User login
Weighing the Benefits of Integrating AI-based Clinical Notes Into Your Practice
Picture a healthcare system where physicians aren’t bogged down by excessive charting but are instead fully present with their patients, offering undivided attention and personalized care. In a recent X post, Stuart Blitz, COO and co-founder of Hone Health, sparked a thought-provoking conversation. “The problem with US healthcare is physicians are burned out since they spend way too much time charting, not enough with patients,” he wrote. “If you created a health system that did zero charting, you’d attract the best physicians and all patients would go there. Who is working on this?”
This resonates with many in the medical community, myself included, because the strain of extensive documentation detracts from patient care. Having worked in both large and small healthcare systems, I know the burden of extensive charting is a palpable challenge, often detracting from the time we can devote to our patients.
The first part of this two-part series examines the overarching benefits of artificial intelligence (AI)–based clinical documentation in modern healthcare, a field witnessing a paradigm shift thanks to advancements in AI.
Transformative Evolution of Clinical Documentation
The transition from manual documentation to AI-driven solutions marks a significant shift in the field, with a number of products in development including Nuance, Abridge, Ambience, ScribeAmerica, 3M, and DeepScribe. These tools use ambient clinical intelligence (ACI) to automate documentation, capturing patient conversations and translating them into structured clinical summaries. This innovation aligns with the vision of reducing charting burdens and enhancing patient-physician interactions.
How does it work? ACI refers to a sophisticated form of AI applied in healthcare settings, particularly focusing on enhancing the clinical documentation process without disrupting the natural flow of the consultation. Here’s a technical yet practical breakdown of ACI and the algorithms it typically employs:
Data capture and processing: ACI systems employ various sensors and processing units, typically integrated into clinical settings. These sensors, like microphones and cameras, gather diverse data such as audio from patient-doctor dialogues and visual cues. This information is then processed in real-time or near–real-time.
Natural language processing (NLP): A core component of ACI is advanced NLP algorithms. These algorithms analyze the captured audio data, transcribing spoken words into text. NLP goes beyond mere transcription; it involves understanding context, extracting relevant medical information (like symptoms, diagnoses, and treatment plans), and interpreting the nuances of human language.
Deep learning: Machine learning, particularly deep-learning techniques, are employed to improve the accuracy of ACI systems continually. These algorithms can learn from vast datasets of clinical interactions, enhancing their ability to transcribe and interpret future conversations accurately. As they learn, they become better at understanding different accents, complex medical terms, and variations in speech patterns.
Integration with electronic health records (EHRs): ACI systems are often designed to integrate seamlessly with existing EHR systems. They can automatically populate patient records with information from patient-clinician interactions, reducing manual entry and potential errors.
Customization and personalization: Many ACI systems offer customizable templates or allow clinicians to tailor documentation workflows. This flexibility ensures that the output aligns with the specific needs and preferences of healthcare providers.
Ethical and privacy considerations: ACI systems must navigate significant ethical and privacy concerns, especially related to patient consent and data security. These systems need to comply with healthcare privacy regulations such as HIPAA. They need to securely manage sensitive patient data and restrict access to authorized personnel only.
Broad-Spectrum Benefits of AI in Documentation
- Reducing clinician burnout: By automating the documentation process, AI tools like DAX Copilot alleviate a significant contributor to physician burnout, enabling clinicians to focus more on patient care.
- Enhanced patient care: With AI handling documentation, clinicians can engage more with their patients, leading to improved care quality and patient satisfaction.
- Data accuracy and quality: AI-driven documentation captures detailed patient encounters accurately, ensuring high-quality and comprehensive medical records.
- Response to the growing need for efficient healthcare: AI-based documentation is a direct response to the growing call for more efficient healthcare practices, where clinicians spend less time on paperwork and more with patients.
The shift toward AI-based clinical documentation represents a critical step in addressing the inefficiencies in healthcare systems. It’s a move towards a more patient-centered approach, where clinicians can focus more on patient care by reducing the time spent on excessive charting. Hopefully, we can integrate these solutions into our clinics at a large enough scale to make such an impact.
In the next column, we will explore in-depth insights from Kenneth Harper at Nuance on the technical implementation of these tools, with DAX as an example.
I would love to read your comments on AI in clinical trials as well as other AI-related topics. Write me at [email protected] or find me on X @DrBonillaOnc.
Dr. Loaiza-Bonilla is the co-founder and chief medical officer at Massive Bio, a company connecting patients to clinical trials using artificial intelligence. His research and professional interests focus on precision medicine, clinical trial design, digital health, entrepreneurship, and patient advocacy. Dr Loaiza-Bonilla serves as medical director of oncology research at Capital Health in New Jersey, where he maintains a connection to patient care by attending to patients 2 days a week. He has served as a consultant for Verify, PSI CRO, Bayer, AstraZeneca, Cardinal Health, BrightInsight, The Lynx Group, Fresenius, Pfizer, Ipsen, and Guardant; served as a speaker or a member of a speakers bureau for Amgen, Guardant, Eisai, Ipsen, Natera, Merck, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and AstraZeneca. He holds a 5% or greater equity interest in Massive Bio.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Picture a healthcare system where physicians aren’t bogged down by excessive charting but are instead fully present with their patients, offering undivided attention and personalized care. In a recent X post, Stuart Blitz, COO and co-founder of Hone Health, sparked a thought-provoking conversation. “The problem with US healthcare is physicians are burned out since they spend way too much time charting, not enough with patients,” he wrote. “If you created a health system that did zero charting, you’d attract the best physicians and all patients would go there. Who is working on this?”
This resonates with many in the medical community, myself included, because the strain of extensive documentation detracts from patient care. Having worked in both large and small healthcare systems, I know the burden of extensive charting is a palpable challenge, often detracting from the time we can devote to our patients.
The first part of this two-part series examines the overarching benefits of artificial intelligence (AI)–based clinical documentation in modern healthcare, a field witnessing a paradigm shift thanks to advancements in AI.
Transformative Evolution of Clinical Documentation
The transition from manual documentation to AI-driven solutions marks a significant shift in the field, with a number of products in development including Nuance, Abridge, Ambience, ScribeAmerica, 3M, and DeepScribe. These tools use ambient clinical intelligence (ACI) to automate documentation, capturing patient conversations and translating them into structured clinical summaries. This innovation aligns with the vision of reducing charting burdens and enhancing patient-physician interactions.
How does it work? ACI refers to a sophisticated form of AI applied in healthcare settings, particularly focusing on enhancing the clinical documentation process without disrupting the natural flow of the consultation. Here’s a technical yet practical breakdown of ACI and the algorithms it typically employs:
Data capture and processing: ACI systems employ various sensors and processing units, typically integrated into clinical settings. These sensors, like microphones and cameras, gather diverse data such as audio from patient-doctor dialogues and visual cues. This information is then processed in real-time or near–real-time.
Natural language processing (NLP): A core component of ACI is advanced NLP algorithms. These algorithms analyze the captured audio data, transcribing spoken words into text. NLP goes beyond mere transcription; it involves understanding context, extracting relevant medical information (like symptoms, diagnoses, and treatment plans), and interpreting the nuances of human language.
Deep learning: Machine learning, particularly deep-learning techniques, are employed to improve the accuracy of ACI systems continually. These algorithms can learn from vast datasets of clinical interactions, enhancing their ability to transcribe and interpret future conversations accurately. As they learn, they become better at understanding different accents, complex medical terms, and variations in speech patterns.
Integration with electronic health records (EHRs): ACI systems are often designed to integrate seamlessly with existing EHR systems. They can automatically populate patient records with information from patient-clinician interactions, reducing manual entry and potential errors.
Customization and personalization: Many ACI systems offer customizable templates or allow clinicians to tailor documentation workflows. This flexibility ensures that the output aligns with the specific needs and preferences of healthcare providers.
Ethical and privacy considerations: ACI systems must navigate significant ethical and privacy concerns, especially related to patient consent and data security. These systems need to comply with healthcare privacy regulations such as HIPAA. They need to securely manage sensitive patient data and restrict access to authorized personnel only.
Broad-Spectrum Benefits of AI in Documentation
- Reducing clinician burnout: By automating the documentation process, AI tools like DAX Copilot alleviate a significant contributor to physician burnout, enabling clinicians to focus more on patient care.
- Enhanced patient care: With AI handling documentation, clinicians can engage more with their patients, leading to improved care quality and patient satisfaction.
- Data accuracy and quality: AI-driven documentation captures detailed patient encounters accurately, ensuring high-quality and comprehensive medical records.
- Response to the growing need for efficient healthcare: AI-based documentation is a direct response to the growing call for more efficient healthcare practices, where clinicians spend less time on paperwork and more with patients.
The shift toward AI-based clinical documentation represents a critical step in addressing the inefficiencies in healthcare systems. It’s a move towards a more patient-centered approach, where clinicians can focus more on patient care by reducing the time spent on excessive charting. Hopefully, we can integrate these solutions into our clinics at a large enough scale to make such an impact.
In the next column, we will explore in-depth insights from Kenneth Harper at Nuance on the technical implementation of these tools, with DAX as an example.
I would love to read your comments on AI in clinical trials as well as other AI-related topics. Write me at [email protected] or find me on X @DrBonillaOnc.
Dr. Loaiza-Bonilla is the co-founder and chief medical officer at Massive Bio, a company connecting patients to clinical trials using artificial intelligence. His research and professional interests focus on precision medicine, clinical trial design, digital health, entrepreneurship, and patient advocacy. Dr Loaiza-Bonilla serves as medical director of oncology research at Capital Health in New Jersey, where he maintains a connection to patient care by attending to patients 2 days a week. He has served as a consultant for Verify, PSI CRO, Bayer, AstraZeneca, Cardinal Health, BrightInsight, The Lynx Group, Fresenius, Pfizer, Ipsen, and Guardant; served as a speaker or a member of a speakers bureau for Amgen, Guardant, Eisai, Ipsen, Natera, Merck, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and AstraZeneca. He holds a 5% or greater equity interest in Massive Bio.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Picture a healthcare system where physicians aren’t bogged down by excessive charting but are instead fully present with their patients, offering undivided attention and personalized care. In a recent X post, Stuart Blitz, COO and co-founder of Hone Health, sparked a thought-provoking conversation. “The problem with US healthcare is physicians are burned out since they spend way too much time charting, not enough with patients,” he wrote. “If you created a health system that did zero charting, you’d attract the best physicians and all patients would go there. Who is working on this?”
This resonates with many in the medical community, myself included, because the strain of extensive documentation detracts from patient care. Having worked in both large and small healthcare systems, I know the burden of extensive charting is a palpable challenge, often detracting from the time we can devote to our patients.
The first part of this two-part series examines the overarching benefits of artificial intelligence (AI)–based clinical documentation in modern healthcare, a field witnessing a paradigm shift thanks to advancements in AI.
Transformative Evolution of Clinical Documentation
The transition from manual documentation to AI-driven solutions marks a significant shift in the field, with a number of products in development including Nuance, Abridge, Ambience, ScribeAmerica, 3M, and DeepScribe. These tools use ambient clinical intelligence (ACI) to automate documentation, capturing patient conversations and translating them into structured clinical summaries. This innovation aligns with the vision of reducing charting burdens and enhancing patient-physician interactions.
How does it work? ACI refers to a sophisticated form of AI applied in healthcare settings, particularly focusing on enhancing the clinical documentation process without disrupting the natural flow of the consultation. Here’s a technical yet practical breakdown of ACI and the algorithms it typically employs:
Data capture and processing: ACI systems employ various sensors and processing units, typically integrated into clinical settings. These sensors, like microphones and cameras, gather diverse data such as audio from patient-doctor dialogues and visual cues. This information is then processed in real-time or near–real-time.
Natural language processing (NLP): A core component of ACI is advanced NLP algorithms. These algorithms analyze the captured audio data, transcribing spoken words into text. NLP goes beyond mere transcription; it involves understanding context, extracting relevant medical information (like symptoms, diagnoses, and treatment plans), and interpreting the nuances of human language.
Deep learning: Machine learning, particularly deep-learning techniques, are employed to improve the accuracy of ACI systems continually. These algorithms can learn from vast datasets of clinical interactions, enhancing their ability to transcribe and interpret future conversations accurately. As they learn, they become better at understanding different accents, complex medical terms, and variations in speech patterns.
Integration with electronic health records (EHRs): ACI systems are often designed to integrate seamlessly with existing EHR systems. They can automatically populate patient records with information from patient-clinician interactions, reducing manual entry and potential errors.
Customization and personalization: Many ACI systems offer customizable templates or allow clinicians to tailor documentation workflows. This flexibility ensures that the output aligns with the specific needs and preferences of healthcare providers.
Ethical and privacy considerations: ACI systems must navigate significant ethical and privacy concerns, especially related to patient consent and data security. These systems need to comply with healthcare privacy regulations such as HIPAA. They need to securely manage sensitive patient data and restrict access to authorized personnel only.
Broad-Spectrum Benefits of AI in Documentation
- Reducing clinician burnout: By automating the documentation process, AI tools like DAX Copilot alleviate a significant contributor to physician burnout, enabling clinicians to focus more on patient care.
- Enhanced patient care: With AI handling documentation, clinicians can engage more with their patients, leading to improved care quality and patient satisfaction.
- Data accuracy and quality: AI-driven documentation captures detailed patient encounters accurately, ensuring high-quality and comprehensive medical records.
- Response to the growing need for efficient healthcare: AI-based documentation is a direct response to the growing call for more efficient healthcare practices, where clinicians spend less time on paperwork and more with patients.
The shift toward AI-based clinical documentation represents a critical step in addressing the inefficiencies in healthcare systems. It’s a move towards a more patient-centered approach, where clinicians can focus more on patient care by reducing the time spent on excessive charting. Hopefully, we can integrate these solutions into our clinics at a large enough scale to make such an impact.
In the next column, we will explore in-depth insights from Kenneth Harper at Nuance on the technical implementation of these tools, with DAX as an example.
I would love to read your comments on AI in clinical trials as well as other AI-related topics. Write me at [email protected] or find me on X @DrBonillaOnc.
Dr. Loaiza-Bonilla is the co-founder and chief medical officer at Massive Bio, a company connecting patients to clinical trials using artificial intelligence. His research and professional interests focus on precision medicine, clinical trial design, digital health, entrepreneurship, and patient advocacy. Dr Loaiza-Bonilla serves as medical director of oncology research at Capital Health in New Jersey, where he maintains a connection to patient care by attending to patients 2 days a week. He has served as a consultant for Verify, PSI CRO, Bayer, AstraZeneca, Cardinal Health, BrightInsight, The Lynx Group, Fresenius, Pfizer, Ipsen, and Guardant; served as a speaker or a member of a speakers bureau for Amgen, Guardant, Eisai, Ipsen, Natera, Merck, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and AstraZeneca. He holds a 5% or greater equity interest in Massive Bio.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
‘Difficult Patient’: Stigmatizing Words and Medical Error
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
When I was doing my nephrology training, I had an attending who would write notes that were, well, kind of funny. I remember one time we were seeing a patient whose first name was “Lucky.” He dryly opened his section of the consult note as follows: “This is a 56-year-old woman with an ironic name who presents with acute renal failure.”
As an exhausted renal fellow, I appreciated the bit of color amid the ongoing series of tragedies that was the consult service. But let’s be clear — writing like this in the medical record is not a good idea. It wasn’t a good idea then, when any record might end up disclosed during a malpractice suit, and it’s really not a good idea now, when patients have ready and automated access to all the notes we write about them.
And yet, worse language than that of my attending appears in hospital notes all the time; there is research about this. Specifically, I’m talking about language that does not have high clinical utility but telegraphs the biases of the person writing the note. This is known as “stigmatizing language” and it can be overt or subtle.
For example, a physician wrote “I listed several fictitious medication names and she reported she was taking them.”
This casts suspicions about the patient’s credibility, as does the more subtle statement, “he claims nicotine patches don’t work for him.” Stigmatizing language may cast the patient in a difficult light, like this note: “she persevered on the fact that ... ‘you wouldn’t understand.’ ”
Stay with me.
We are going to start by defining a very sick patient population: those admitted to the hospital and who, within 48 hours, have either been transferred to the intensive care unit or died. Because of the severity of illness in this population we’ve just defined, figuring out whether a diagnostic or other error was made would be extremely high yield; these can mean the difference between life and death.
In a letter appearing in JAMA Internal Medicine, researchers examined a group of more than 2300 patients just like this from 29 hospitals, scouring the medical records for evidence of these types of errors.
Nearly one in four (23.2%) had at least one diagnostic error, which could include a missed physical exam finding, failure to ask a key question on history taking, inadequate testing, and so on.
Understanding why we make these errors is clearly critical to improving care for these patients. The researchers hypothesized that stigmatizing language might lead to errors like this. For example, by demonstrating that you don’t find a patient credible, you may ignore statements that would help make a better diagnosis.
Just over 5% of these patients had evidence of stigmatizing language in their medical notes. Like earlier studies, this language was more common if the patient was Black or had unstable housing.
Critically, stigmatizing language was more likely to be found among those who had diagnostic errors — a rate of 8.2% vs 4.1%. After adjustment for factors like race, the presence of stigmatizing language was associated with roughly a doubling of the risk for diagnostic errors.
Now, I’m all for eliminating stigmatizing language from our medical notes. And, given the increased transparency of all medical notes these days, I expect that we’ll see less of this over time. But of course, the fact that a physician doesn’t write something that disparages the patient does not necessarily mean that they don’t retain that bias. That said, those comments have an effect on all the other team members who care for that patient as well; it sets a tone and can entrench an individual’s bias more broadly. We should strive to eliminate our biases when it comes to caring for patients. But perhaps the second best thing is to work to keep those biases to ourselves.
Dr. Wilson is associate professor of medicine and public health and director of the Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
When I was doing my nephrology training, I had an attending who would write notes that were, well, kind of funny. I remember one time we were seeing a patient whose first name was “Lucky.” He dryly opened his section of the consult note as follows: “This is a 56-year-old woman with an ironic name who presents with acute renal failure.”
As an exhausted renal fellow, I appreciated the bit of color amid the ongoing series of tragedies that was the consult service. But let’s be clear — writing like this in the medical record is not a good idea. It wasn’t a good idea then, when any record might end up disclosed during a malpractice suit, and it’s really not a good idea now, when patients have ready and automated access to all the notes we write about them.
And yet, worse language than that of my attending appears in hospital notes all the time; there is research about this. Specifically, I’m talking about language that does not have high clinical utility but telegraphs the biases of the person writing the note. This is known as “stigmatizing language” and it can be overt or subtle.
For example, a physician wrote “I listed several fictitious medication names and she reported she was taking them.”
This casts suspicions about the patient’s credibility, as does the more subtle statement, “he claims nicotine patches don’t work for him.” Stigmatizing language may cast the patient in a difficult light, like this note: “she persevered on the fact that ... ‘you wouldn’t understand.’ ”
Stay with me.
We are going to start by defining a very sick patient population: those admitted to the hospital and who, within 48 hours, have either been transferred to the intensive care unit or died. Because of the severity of illness in this population we’ve just defined, figuring out whether a diagnostic or other error was made would be extremely high yield; these can mean the difference between life and death.
In a letter appearing in JAMA Internal Medicine, researchers examined a group of more than 2300 patients just like this from 29 hospitals, scouring the medical records for evidence of these types of errors.
Nearly one in four (23.2%) had at least one diagnostic error, which could include a missed physical exam finding, failure to ask a key question on history taking, inadequate testing, and so on.
Understanding why we make these errors is clearly critical to improving care for these patients. The researchers hypothesized that stigmatizing language might lead to errors like this. For example, by demonstrating that you don’t find a patient credible, you may ignore statements that would help make a better diagnosis.
Just over 5% of these patients had evidence of stigmatizing language in their medical notes. Like earlier studies, this language was more common if the patient was Black or had unstable housing.
Critically, stigmatizing language was more likely to be found among those who had diagnostic errors — a rate of 8.2% vs 4.1%. After adjustment for factors like race, the presence of stigmatizing language was associated with roughly a doubling of the risk for diagnostic errors.
Now, I’m all for eliminating stigmatizing language from our medical notes. And, given the increased transparency of all medical notes these days, I expect that we’ll see less of this over time. But of course, the fact that a physician doesn’t write something that disparages the patient does not necessarily mean that they don’t retain that bias. That said, those comments have an effect on all the other team members who care for that patient as well; it sets a tone and can entrench an individual’s bias more broadly. We should strive to eliminate our biases when it comes to caring for patients. But perhaps the second best thing is to work to keep those biases to ourselves.
Dr. Wilson is associate professor of medicine and public health and director of the Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
When I was doing my nephrology training, I had an attending who would write notes that were, well, kind of funny. I remember one time we were seeing a patient whose first name was “Lucky.” He dryly opened his section of the consult note as follows: “This is a 56-year-old woman with an ironic name who presents with acute renal failure.”
As an exhausted renal fellow, I appreciated the bit of color amid the ongoing series of tragedies that was the consult service. But let’s be clear — writing like this in the medical record is not a good idea. It wasn’t a good idea then, when any record might end up disclosed during a malpractice suit, and it’s really not a good idea now, when patients have ready and automated access to all the notes we write about them.
And yet, worse language than that of my attending appears in hospital notes all the time; there is research about this. Specifically, I’m talking about language that does not have high clinical utility but telegraphs the biases of the person writing the note. This is known as “stigmatizing language” and it can be overt or subtle.
For example, a physician wrote “I listed several fictitious medication names and she reported she was taking them.”
This casts suspicions about the patient’s credibility, as does the more subtle statement, “he claims nicotine patches don’t work for him.” Stigmatizing language may cast the patient in a difficult light, like this note: “she persevered on the fact that ... ‘you wouldn’t understand.’ ”
Stay with me.
We are going to start by defining a very sick patient population: those admitted to the hospital and who, within 48 hours, have either been transferred to the intensive care unit or died. Because of the severity of illness in this population we’ve just defined, figuring out whether a diagnostic or other error was made would be extremely high yield; these can mean the difference between life and death.
In a letter appearing in JAMA Internal Medicine, researchers examined a group of more than 2300 patients just like this from 29 hospitals, scouring the medical records for evidence of these types of errors.
Nearly one in four (23.2%) had at least one diagnostic error, which could include a missed physical exam finding, failure to ask a key question on history taking, inadequate testing, and so on.
Understanding why we make these errors is clearly critical to improving care for these patients. The researchers hypothesized that stigmatizing language might lead to errors like this. For example, by demonstrating that you don’t find a patient credible, you may ignore statements that would help make a better diagnosis.
Just over 5% of these patients had evidence of stigmatizing language in their medical notes. Like earlier studies, this language was more common if the patient was Black or had unstable housing.
Critically, stigmatizing language was more likely to be found among those who had diagnostic errors — a rate of 8.2% vs 4.1%. After adjustment for factors like race, the presence of stigmatizing language was associated with roughly a doubling of the risk for diagnostic errors.
Now, I’m all for eliminating stigmatizing language from our medical notes. And, given the increased transparency of all medical notes these days, I expect that we’ll see less of this over time. But of course, the fact that a physician doesn’t write something that disparages the patient does not necessarily mean that they don’t retain that bias. That said, those comments have an effect on all the other team members who care for that patient as well; it sets a tone and can entrench an individual’s bias more broadly. We should strive to eliminate our biases when it comes to caring for patients. But perhaps the second best thing is to work to keep those biases to ourselves.
Dr. Wilson is associate professor of medicine and public health and director of the Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Time Wasted to Avoid Penalties
Depression is a serious issue. I want to say that off the top, because nothing below is intended to minimize it.
But does everyone need to be tested for it?
A lot of general practices test for it with every patient and every visit. After all, mandates say you have to or you’ll get penalized a few bucks. Since no one wants to leave any money on the table in the razor-thin margins of running a medical practice, they ask these questions (I don’t blame them for that).
I can see where this might be useful, but does it really do much? Or is it just a mandatory waste of time?
Good question.
A recent review by the American College of Physicians found it was mostly a waste of time (which surprises no one). Only one of the eight measures involved in depression screening (suicide risk assessment) turned out to be useful. So, basically, 88% of the time spent on these questions contributed absolutely nothing of clinical relevance.
Of course, this isn’t unique to family medicine. Every time I see a Medicare or Medicare Advantage patient I have to document whether they’ve had flu and pneumonia vaccines. While there are occasional cases where asking about recent vaccines is critical to the history, for most it’s not. But I do it so I don’t get penalized, even though the answer changes nothing. It’s not like I give vaccines in my practice.
A fair number of people come to me for hospital follow-ups, so I go into the system and review the chart. The notes inevitably contain questions of sexual activity, fear of violence, fear of domestic abuse, food security, recent travel patterns, and so on. Some of them are useful in certain situations, but not in all, or even most. All they do is increase the length of the note until anything of relevance is obscured, and allow someone in coding to check the boxes to raise the billing level. Realistically, the ER staff involved probably didn’t ask any of them, and just clicked “no.”
Once this probably seemed like a good idea, but clearly most of it is now a waste of time. These “quality measures” have turned the art of taking a good history into a session of mouse and box clicking.
Does that really improve care?
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
Depression is a serious issue. I want to say that off the top, because nothing below is intended to minimize it.
But does everyone need to be tested for it?
A lot of general practices test for it with every patient and every visit. After all, mandates say you have to or you’ll get penalized a few bucks. Since no one wants to leave any money on the table in the razor-thin margins of running a medical practice, they ask these questions (I don’t blame them for that).
I can see where this might be useful, but does it really do much? Or is it just a mandatory waste of time?
Good question.
A recent review by the American College of Physicians found it was mostly a waste of time (which surprises no one). Only one of the eight measures involved in depression screening (suicide risk assessment) turned out to be useful. So, basically, 88% of the time spent on these questions contributed absolutely nothing of clinical relevance.
Of course, this isn’t unique to family medicine. Every time I see a Medicare or Medicare Advantage patient I have to document whether they’ve had flu and pneumonia vaccines. While there are occasional cases where asking about recent vaccines is critical to the history, for most it’s not. But I do it so I don’t get penalized, even though the answer changes nothing. It’s not like I give vaccines in my practice.
A fair number of people come to me for hospital follow-ups, so I go into the system and review the chart. The notes inevitably contain questions of sexual activity, fear of violence, fear of domestic abuse, food security, recent travel patterns, and so on. Some of them are useful in certain situations, but not in all, or even most. All they do is increase the length of the note until anything of relevance is obscured, and allow someone in coding to check the boxes to raise the billing level. Realistically, the ER staff involved probably didn’t ask any of them, and just clicked “no.”
Once this probably seemed like a good idea, but clearly most of it is now a waste of time. These “quality measures” have turned the art of taking a good history into a session of mouse and box clicking.
Does that really improve care?
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
Depression is a serious issue. I want to say that off the top, because nothing below is intended to minimize it.
But does everyone need to be tested for it?
A lot of general practices test for it with every patient and every visit. After all, mandates say you have to or you’ll get penalized a few bucks. Since no one wants to leave any money on the table in the razor-thin margins of running a medical practice, they ask these questions (I don’t blame them for that).
I can see where this might be useful, but does it really do much? Or is it just a mandatory waste of time?
Good question.
A recent review by the American College of Physicians found it was mostly a waste of time (which surprises no one). Only one of the eight measures involved in depression screening (suicide risk assessment) turned out to be useful. So, basically, 88% of the time spent on these questions contributed absolutely nothing of clinical relevance.
Of course, this isn’t unique to family medicine. Every time I see a Medicare or Medicare Advantage patient I have to document whether they’ve had flu and pneumonia vaccines. While there are occasional cases where asking about recent vaccines is critical to the history, for most it’s not. But I do it so I don’t get penalized, even though the answer changes nothing. It’s not like I give vaccines in my practice.
A fair number of people come to me for hospital follow-ups, so I go into the system and review the chart. The notes inevitably contain questions of sexual activity, fear of violence, fear of domestic abuse, food security, recent travel patterns, and so on. Some of them are useful in certain situations, but not in all, or even most. All they do is increase the length of the note until anything of relevance is obscured, and allow someone in coding to check the boxes to raise the billing level. Realistically, the ER staff involved probably didn’t ask any of them, and just clicked “no.”
Once this probably seemed like a good idea, but clearly most of it is now a waste of time. These “quality measures” have turned the art of taking a good history into a session of mouse and box clicking.
Does that really improve care?
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
Meat Linked to Higher Erectile Dysfunction Risk
Rachel S. Rubin, MD: Welcome to another episode of Sex Matters. I’m Dr. Rachel Rubin. I’m a urologist and sexual medicine specialist based in the Washington, DC area, and I interview amazingly cool people doing research in sexual medicine.
I heard an incredible lecture while I was at the Mayo Clinic urology conference by Dr. Stacy Loeb, who is a wonderful researcher of all things prostate cancer and men’s health, who is now talking more plant-based diets. Her lecture was so good, I begged her to join me for this discussion.
Dr. Loeb, I would love for you to introduce yourself.
Stacy Loeb, MD: I’m Dr. Loeb. I’m a urologist at New York University in the Manhattan VA, and I recently became board certified in lifestyle medicine because it’s so important for sexual health and, really, everything that we do.
Dr. Rubin: You recently became very interested in studying plant-based diets. How did that start, and how has the research evolved over time?
Dr. Loeb: It’s really amazing. For one thing, more of our patients with prostate cancer die of heart disease than of prostate cancer. And erectile dysfunction is really an early warning sign of cardiovascular disease. We felt like it was incumbent upon us, even within urology and sexual medicine, to better understand the basis for lifestyle modification that can help with these issues.
Dr. Rubin: Tell us more about what you found for erectile dysfunction. How much benefit do people get by switching to a plant-based diet?
Dr. Loeb: First we looked at erectile function in men without prostate cancer in the health professionals follow-up study, a very large cohort study out of Harvard University. We found that among omnivorous people, those who ate more plant-based and less animal-based food were less likely to have incident erectile dysfunction. Then, we published a new paper looking at patients with prostate cancer. These men have extra challenges for sexual function because in addition to the standard cardiovascular changes with aging, prostate cancer treatment can affect the nerves that are involved in erections. But amazingly, even in that population, we found that the men who ate more plant-based and less animal-based food had better scores for erectile function.
That was really good news, and it’s a win-win. There is no reason not to counsel our patients to eat more plant-based foods. Meat is not masculine. Meat is associated with a higher risk for erectile dysfunction and is considered carcinogenic. It’s just something that we should try to stay away from.
Dr. Rubin: How do you counsel patients who might not be ready to go fully plant-based? Is a little better than nothing? How do you even start these conversations with people? Do you have any tips for primary care doctors?
Dr. Loeb: Great question. A little bit is very much better than nothing. In fact, in the health professionals follow-up study, we actually looked at quintiles of people who ate the most meat and animal-based foods and the least plant-based foods all the way up to the most plant-based and the least animal-based diets. Along that spectrum, it really does make a big difference. Anywhere that patients can start from is definitely better than nothing.
Simple things such as Meatless Monday or choosing a few days that they will give up animal-based foods will help. For some people, trying new things is easier than cutting things out, for example, trying a milk substitute such as oat, almond, or soy milk instead of dairy milk. That could be a great first step, or trying some dishes that don’t include meat — maybe a tofu stir fry or a taco or burrito without the meat.
There are many great options out there. In terms of resources for doctors, the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine has a great website. They have fact sheets for a lot of the common questions that people ask such as how can I get enough protein or calcium on a plant-based diet? This isn’t a problem at all. In fact, Novak Djokovic and many other elite athletes eat plant-based diets, and they get enough protein with a much higher requirement than most of us who are not elite athletes. These fact sheets explain which plant foods are the best
I also like Nutritionfacts.org. They also have all kinds of great videos and resources. Both of these websites have recipes that were created by doctors and nutritionists.
We can suggest that our patients work with a nutritionist or join a virtual program. For example, Plant Powered here in New York has virtual plant-based jumpstart programs. People around the country can get in on programs that have nutritionists and health coaches — for people who want a boost.
Dr. Rubin: The data are really compelling. When you were speaking, not a person in the room was interested in having a steak that night for dinner, even with a steakhouse in the hotel.
What do you say to men who have prostate cancer or suffer from erectile dysfunction? Do any data show that by going plant-based you may show improvements? We have recent studies that show that regular exercise might be as good as Viagra.
Dr. Loeb: It’s definitely not too late, even if you’ve already been diagnosed with these conditions. In my own practice, I have seen changes in patients. In fact, one of the case scenarios that I submitted for the lifestyle medicine boards was a patient who adopted a whole food, plant-based diet and no longer uses Viagra. This is definitely something that’s possible to do with intensive lifestyle modification.
Dr. Rubin: Maybe vegetables are the new sexual health aide. How can people find out more? I know you have a Sirius XM radio show.
Dr. Loeb: It’s the Men’s Health Show on Sirius XM channel 110. It’s on Wednesdays from 6:00 to 8:00 PM ET, or you can listen to it on demand anytime through the Sirius XM app.
Dr. Rubin: You have done an enormous amount of research in prostate cancer and sexual medicine. You are an all-star in the field. Thank you for sharing all of your knowledge about plant-based diets. You’ve given us all a lot to think about today.
Dr. Rubin has disclosed the following relevant financial relationships: Serve(d) as a speaker for Sprout; received research grant from Maternal Medical; received income in an amount equal to or greater than $250 from Absorption Pharmaceuticals, GSK, and Endo.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Rachel S. Rubin, MD: Welcome to another episode of Sex Matters. I’m Dr. Rachel Rubin. I’m a urologist and sexual medicine specialist based in the Washington, DC area, and I interview amazingly cool people doing research in sexual medicine.
I heard an incredible lecture while I was at the Mayo Clinic urology conference by Dr. Stacy Loeb, who is a wonderful researcher of all things prostate cancer and men’s health, who is now talking more plant-based diets. Her lecture was so good, I begged her to join me for this discussion.
Dr. Loeb, I would love for you to introduce yourself.
Stacy Loeb, MD: I’m Dr. Loeb. I’m a urologist at New York University in the Manhattan VA, and I recently became board certified in lifestyle medicine because it’s so important for sexual health and, really, everything that we do.
Dr. Rubin: You recently became very interested in studying plant-based diets. How did that start, and how has the research evolved over time?
Dr. Loeb: It’s really amazing. For one thing, more of our patients with prostate cancer die of heart disease than of prostate cancer. And erectile dysfunction is really an early warning sign of cardiovascular disease. We felt like it was incumbent upon us, even within urology and sexual medicine, to better understand the basis for lifestyle modification that can help with these issues.
Dr. Rubin: Tell us more about what you found for erectile dysfunction. How much benefit do people get by switching to a plant-based diet?
Dr. Loeb: First we looked at erectile function in men without prostate cancer in the health professionals follow-up study, a very large cohort study out of Harvard University. We found that among omnivorous people, those who ate more plant-based and less animal-based food were less likely to have incident erectile dysfunction. Then, we published a new paper looking at patients with prostate cancer. These men have extra challenges for sexual function because in addition to the standard cardiovascular changes with aging, prostate cancer treatment can affect the nerves that are involved in erections. But amazingly, even in that population, we found that the men who ate more plant-based and less animal-based food had better scores for erectile function.
That was really good news, and it’s a win-win. There is no reason not to counsel our patients to eat more plant-based foods. Meat is not masculine. Meat is associated with a higher risk for erectile dysfunction and is considered carcinogenic. It’s just something that we should try to stay away from.
Dr. Rubin: How do you counsel patients who might not be ready to go fully plant-based? Is a little better than nothing? How do you even start these conversations with people? Do you have any tips for primary care doctors?
Dr. Loeb: Great question. A little bit is very much better than nothing. In fact, in the health professionals follow-up study, we actually looked at quintiles of people who ate the most meat and animal-based foods and the least plant-based foods all the way up to the most plant-based and the least animal-based diets. Along that spectrum, it really does make a big difference. Anywhere that patients can start from is definitely better than nothing.
Simple things such as Meatless Monday or choosing a few days that they will give up animal-based foods will help. For some people, trying new things is easier than cutting things out, for example, trying a milk substitute such as oat, almond, or soy milk instead of dairy milk. That could be a great first step, or trying some dishes that don’t include meat — maybe a tofu stir fry or a taco or burrito without the meat.
There are many great options out there. In terms of resources for doctors, the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine has a great website. They have fact sheets for a lot of the common questions that people ask such as how can I get enough protein or calcium on a plant-based diet? This isn’t a problem at all. In fact, Novak Djokovic and many other elite athletes eat plant-based diets, and they get enough protein with a much higher requirement than most of us who are not elite athletes. These fact sheets explain which plant foods are the best
I also like Nutritionfacts.org. They also have all kinds of great videos and resources. Both of these websites have recipes that were created by doctors and nutritionists.
We can suggest that our patients work with a nutritionist or join a virtual program. For example, Plant Powered here in New York has virtual plant-based jumpstart programs. People around the country can get in on programs that have nutritionists and health coaches — for people who want a boost.
Dr. Rubin: The data are really compelling. When you were speaking, not a person in the room was interested in having a steak that night for dinner, even with a steakhouse in the hotel.
What do you say to men who have prostate cancer or suffer from erectile dysfunction? Do any data show that by going plant-based you may show improvements? We have recent studies that show that regular exercise might be as good as Viagra.
Dr. Loeb: It’s definitely not too late, even if you’ve already been diagnosed with these conditions. In my own practice, I have seen changes in patients. In fact, one of the case scenarios that I submitted for the lifestyle medicine boards was a patient who adopted a whole food, plant-based diet and no longer uses Viagra. This is definitely something that’s possible to do with intensive lifestyle modification.
Dr. Rubin: Maybe vegetables are the new sexual health aide. How can people find out more? I know you have a Sirius XM radio show.
Dr. Loeb: It’s the Men’s Health Show on Sirius XM channel 110. It’s on Wednesdays from 6:00 to 8:00 PM ET, or you can listen to it on demand anytime through the Sirius XM app.
Dr. Rubin: You have done an enormous amount of research in prostate cancer and sexual medicine. You are an all-star in the field. Thank you for sharing all of your knowledge about plant-based diets. You’ve given us all a lot to think about today.
Dr. Rubin has disclosed the following relevant financial relationships: Serve(d) as a speaker for Sprout; received research grant from Maternal Medical; received income in an amount equal to or greater than $250 from Absorption Pharmaceuticals, GSK, and Endo.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Rachel S. Rubin, MD: Welcome to another episode of Sex Matters. I’m Dr. Rachel Rubin. I’m a urologist and sexual medicine specialist based in the Washington, DC area, and I interview amazingly cool people doing research in sexual medicine.
I heard an incredible lecture while I was at the Mayo Clinic urology conference by Dr. Stacy Loeb, who is a wonderful researcher of all things prostate cancer and men’s health, who is now talking more plant-based diets. Her lecture was so good, I begged her to join me for this discussion.
Dr. Loeb, I would love for you to introduce yourself.
Stacy Loeb, MD: I’m Dr. Loeb. I’m a urologist at New York University in the Manhattan VA, and I recently became board certified in lifestyle medicine because it’s so important for sexual health and, really, everything that we do.
Dr. Rubin: You recently became very interested in studying plant-based diets. How did that start, and how has the research evolved over time?
Dr. Loeb: It’s really amazing. For one thing, more of our patients with prostate cancer die of heart disease than of prostate cancer. And erectile dysfunction is really an early warning sign of cardiovascular disease. We felt like it was incumbent upon us, even within urology and sexual medicine, to better understand the basis for lifestyle modification that can help with these issues.
Dr. Rubin: Tell us more about what you found for erectile dysfunction. How much benefit do people get by switching to a plant-based diet?
Dr. Loeb: First we looked at erectile function in men without prostate cancer in the health professionals follow-up study, a very large cohort study out of Harvard University. We found that among omnivorous people, those who ate more plant-based and less animal-based food were less likely to have incident erectile dysfunction. Then, we published a new paper looking at patients with prostate cancer. These men have extra challenges for sexual function because in addition to the standard cardiovascular changes with aging, prostate cancer treatment can affect the nerves that are involved in erections. But amazingly, even in that population, we found that the men who ate more plant-based and less animal-based food had better scores for erectile function.
That was really good news, and it’s a win-win. There is no reason not to counsel our patients to eat more plant-based foods. Meat is not masculine. Meat is associated with a higher risk for erectile dysfunction and is considered carcinogenic. It’s just something that we should try to stay away from.
Dr. Rubin: How do you counsel patients who might not be ready to go fully plant-based? Is a little better than nothing? How do you even start these conversations with people? Do you have any tips for primary care doctors?
Dr. Loeb: Great question. A little bit is very much better than nothing. In fact, in the health professionals follow-up study, we actually looked at quintiles of people who ate the most meat and animal-based foods and the least plant-based foods all the way up to the most plant-based and the least animal-based diets. Along that spectrum, it really does make a big difference. Anywhere that patients can start from is definitely better than nothing.
Simple things such as Meatless Monday or choosing a few days that they will give up animal-based foods will help. For some people, trying new things is easier than cutting things out, for example, trying a milk substitute such as oat, almond, or soy milk instead of dairy milk. That could be a great first step, or trying some dishes that don’t include meat — maybe a tofu stir fry or a taco or burrito without the meat.
There are many great options out there. In terms of resources for doctors, the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine has a great website. They have fact sheets for a lot of the common questions that people ask such as how can I get enough protein or calcium on a plant-based diet? This isn’t a problem at all. In fact, Novak Djokovic and many other elite athletes eat plant-based diets, and they get enough protein with a much higher requirement than most of us who are not elite athletes. These fact sheets explain which plant foods are the best
I also like Nutritionfacts.org. They also have all kinds of great videos and resources. Both of these websites have recipes that were created by doctors and nutritionists.
We can suggest that our patients work with a nutritionist or join a virtual program. For example, Plant Powered here in New York has virtual plant-based jumpstart programs. People around the country can get in on programs that have nutritionists and health coaches — for people who want a boost.
Dr. Rubin: The data are really compelling. When you were speaking, not a person in the room was interested in having a steak that night for dinner, even with a steakhouse in the hotel.
What do you say to men who have prostate cancer or suffer from erectile dysfunction? Do any data show that by going plant-based you may show improvements? We have recent studies that show that regular exercise might be as good as Viagra.
Dr. Loeb: It’s definitely not too late, even if you’ve already been diagnosed with these conditions. In my own practice, I have seen changes in patients. In fact, one of the case scenarios that I submitted for the lifestyle medicine boards was a patient who adopted a whole food, plant-based diet and no longer uses Viagra. This is definitely something that’s possible to do with intensive lifestyle modification.
Dr. Rubin: Maybe vegetables are the new sexual health aide. How can people find out more? I know you have a Sirius XM radio show.
Dr. Loeb: It’s the Men’s Health Show on Sirius XM channel 110. It’s on Wednesdays from 6:00 to 8:00 PM ET, or you can listen to it on demand anytime through the Sirius XM app.
Dr. Rubin: You have done an enormous amount of research in prostate cancer and sexual medicine. You are an all-star in the field. Thank you for sharing all of your knowledge about plant-based diets. You’ve given us all a lot to think about today.
Dr. Rubin has disclosed the following relevant financial relationships: Serve(d) as a speaker for Sprout; received research grant from Maternal Medical; received income in an amount equal to or greater than $250 from Absorption Pharmaceuticals, GSK, and Endo.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
‘No Pulse’: An MD’s First Night Off in 2 Weeks Turns Grave
Emergencies happen anywhere, anytime, and sometimes, medical professionals find themselves in situations where they are the only ones who can help. Is There a Doctor in the House? is a series by this news organization that tells these stories.
It was my first night off after 12 days. It was a Friday night, and I went to a bar in Naples to get a beer with some friends. As it turned out, it wasn’t a night off after all.
As soon as we got inside, we heard over the speaker that they needed medical personnel and to please go to the left side of the bar. I thought it would be syncope or something like that.
I went over there and saw a woman holding up a man. He was basically leaning all over her. The light was low, and the music was pounding. I started to assess him and tried to get him to answer me. No response. I checked for pulses — nothing.
The woman helped me lower him to the floor. I checked again for a pulse. Still nothing. I said, “Call 911,” and started compressions.
The difficult part was the place was completely dark. I knew where his body was on the floor. I could see his chest. But I couldn’t see his face at all.
It was also extremely loud with the music thumping. After a while, they finally shut it off.
Pretty soon, the security personnel from the bar brought me an automated external defibrillator, and it showed the man was having V-fib arrest. I shocked him. Still no pulse. I continued with cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR).
I hadn’t noticed, but lots of people were crowding around us. Somebody came up and said, “He’s my friend. He has a 9-year-old daughter. He can’t die. Let me help with the compressions.” I was like, “Go for it.”
The guy started kind of pushing on the man’s abdomen. He had no idea how to do compressions. I said, “Okay, let me take over again.”
Out of the crowd, nobody else volunteered to help. No one asked me, “Hey, what can I do?” Meanwhile, I found out later that someone was filming the whole thing on their phone.
But what the guy said about the man’s young daughter stayed in my brain. I thought, we need to keep going.
I did more compressions and shocked him again. Still no pulse. At that point, the police and emergency medical services showed up. They checked, nothing had changed, so they got him into the ambulance.
I asked one of the paramedics, “Where are you taking him? I can call ahead.”
But he said, “That’s HIPAA. We can’t tell you.” They also wouldn’t let me go with him in the ambulance.
“I have an active Florida license, and I work in the ICU [intensive care unit],” I said.
“No, we need to follow our protocol,” he replied.
I understood that, but I just wanted to help.
It was around 10:30 PM by then, and I was drenched in sweat. I had to go home. The first thing I did after taking a shower was open the computer and check my system. I needed to find out what happened to the guy.
I was looking for admissions, and I didn’t see him. I called the main hospital downtown and the one in North Naples. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I stayed up until almost 1:00 AM checking for his name. At that point I thought, okay, maybe he died.
The next night, Saturday, I was home and got a call from one of my colleagues. “Hey, were you in a bar yesterday? Did you do CPR on somebody?”
“How did you know?” I said.
He said the paramedics had described me — “a tall doctor with glasses who was a nice guy.” It was funny that he knew that was me.
He told me, “The guy’s alive. He’s sick and needs to be put on dialysis, but he’s alive.”
Apparently, the guy had gone to the emergency department at North Naples, and the doctors in the emergency room (ER) worked on him for over an hour. They did continuous CPR and shocked him for close to 40 minutes. They finally got his pulse back, and after that, he was transferred to the main hospital ICU. They didn’t admit him at the ER, which was why I couldn’t find his name.
On Sunday, I was checking my patients’ charts for the ICU that coming week. And there he was. I saw his name and the documentation by the ED that CPR was provided by a critical care doctor in the field. He was still alive. That gave me so much joy.
So, the man I had helped became my patient. When I saw him on Monday, he was intubated and needed dialysis. I finally saw his face and thought, Oh, so that’s what you look like. I hadn’t realized he was only 39 years old.
When he was awake, I explained to him I was the doctor that provided CPR at the bar. He was very grateful, but of course, he didn’t remember anything.
Eventually, I met his daughter, and she just said, “Thank you for allowing me to have my dad.”
The funny part is that he broke his leg. Well, that’s not funny, but no one had any idea how it happened. That was his only complaint. He was asking me, “Doctor, how did you break my leg?”
“Hey, I have no idea how you broke your leg,” I replied. “I was trying to save your life.”
He was in the hospital for almost a month but made a full recovery. The amazing part: After all the evaluations, he has no neurological deficits. He’s back to a normal life now.
They never found a cause for the cardiac arrest. I mean, he had an ejection fraction of 10%. All my money was on something drug related, but that wasn’t the case. They’d done a cardiac cut, and there was no obstruction. They couldn’t find a reason.
We’ve become friends. He still works as a DJ at the bar. He changed his name to “DJ the Survivor” or something like that.
Sometimes, he’ll text me: “Doctor, what are you doing? You want to come down to the bar?”
I’m like, “No. I don’t.”
It’s been more than a year, but I remember every detail. When you go into medicine, you dream that one day you’ll be able to say, “I saved somebody.”
He texted me a year later and told me he’s celebrating two birthdays now. He said, “I’m turning 1 year old today!”
I think about the value of life. How we can take it for granted. We think, I’m young, nothing is going to happen to me. But this guy was 39. He went to work and died that night.
I was able to help bring him back. That makes me thankful for every day.
Jose Valle Giler, MD, is a pulmonary, critical care, and sleep medicine physician at NCH Healthcare System in Naples, Florida.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com .
Emergencies happen anywhere, anytime, and sometimes, medical professionals find themselves in situations where they are the only ones who can help. Is There a Doctor in the House? is a series by this news organization that tells these stories.
It was my first night off after 12 days. It was a Friday night, and I went to a bar in Naples to get a beer with some friends. As it turned out, it wasn’t a night off after all.
As soon as we got inside, we heard over the speaker that they needed medical personnel and to please go to the left side of the bar. I thought it would be syncope or something like that.
I went over there and saw a woman holding up a man. He was basically leaning all over her. The light was low, and the music was pounding. I started to assess him and tried to get him to answer me. No response. I checked for pulses — nothing.
The woman helped me lower him to the floor. I checked again for a pulse. Still nothing. I said, “Call 911,” and started compressions.
The difficult part was the place was completely dark. I knew where his body was on the floor. I could see his chest. But I couldn’t see his face at all.
It was also extremely loud with the music thumping. After a while, they finally shut it off.
Pretty soon, the security personnel from the bar brought me an automated external defibrillator, and it showed the man was having V-fib arrest. I shocked him. Still no pulse. I continued with cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR).
I hadn’t noticed, but lots of people were crowding around us. Somebody came up and said, “He’s my friend. He has a 9-year-old daughter. He can’t die. Let me help with the compressions.” I was like, “Go for it.”
The guy started kind of pushing on the man’s abdomen. He had no idea how to do compressions. I said, “Okay, let me take over again.”
Out of the crowd, nobody else volunteered to help. No one asked me, “Hey, what can I do?” Meanwhile, I found out later that someone was filming the whole thing on their phone.
But what the guy said about the man’s young daughter stayed in my brain. I thought, we need to keep going.
I did more compressions and shocked him again. Still no pulse. At that point, the police and emergency medical services showed up. They checked, nothing had changed, so they got him into the ambulance.
I asked one of the paramedics, “Where are you taking him? I can call ahead.”
But he said, “That’s HIPAA. We can’t tell you.” They also wouldn’t let me go with him in the ambulance.
“I have an active Florida license, and I work in the ICU [intensive care unit],” I said.
“No, we need to follow our protocol,” he replied.
I understood that, but I just wanted to help.
It was around 10:30 PM by then, and I was drenched in sweat. I had to go home. The first thing I did after taking a shower was open the computer and check my system. I needed to find out what happened to the guy.
I was looking for admissions, and I didn’t see him. I called the main hospital downtown and the one in North Naples. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I stayed up until almost 1:00 AM checking for his name. At that point I thought, okay, maybe he died.
The next night, Saturday, I was home and got a call from one of my colleagues. “Hey, were you in a bar yesterday? Did you do CPR on somebody?”
“How did you know?” I said.
He said the paramedics had described me — “a tall doctor with glasses who was a nice guy.” It was funny that he knew that was me.
He told me, “The guy’s alive. He’s sick and needs to be put on dialysis, but he’s alive.”
Apparently, the guy had gone to the emergency department at North Naples, and the doctors in the emergency room (ER) worked on him for over an hour. They did continuous CPR and shocked him for close to 40 minutes. They finally got his pulse back, and after that, he was transferred to the main hospital ICU. They didn’t admit him at the ER, which was why I couldn’t find his name.
On Sunday, I was checking my patients’ charts for the ICU that coming week. And there he was. I saw his name and the documentation by the ED that CPR was provided by a critical care doctor in the field. He was still alive. That gave me so much joy.
So, the man I had helped became my patient. When I saw him on Monday, he was intubated and needed dialysis. I finally saw his face and thought, Oh, so that’s what you look like. I hadn’t realized he was only 39 years old.
When he was awake, I explained to him I was the doctor that provided CPR at the bar. He was very grateful, but of course, he didn’t remember anything.
Eventually, I met his daughter, and she just said, “Thank you for allowing me to have my dad.”
The funny part is that he broke his leg. Well, that’s not funny, but no one had any idea how it happened. That was his only complaint. He was asking me, “Doctor, how did you break my leg?”
“Hey, I have no idea how you broke your leg,” I replied. “I was trying to save your life.”
He was in the hospital for almost a month but made a full recovery. The amazing part: After all the evaluations, he has no neurological deficits. He’s back to a normal life now.
They never found a cause for the cardiac arrest. I mean, he had an ejection fraction of 10%. All my money was on something drug related, but that wasn’t the case. They’d done a cardiac cut, and there was no obstruction. They couldn’t find a reason.
We’ve become friends. He still works as a DJ at the bar. He changed his name to “DJ the Survivor” or something like that.
Sometimes, he’ll text me: “Doctor, what are you doing? You want to come down to the bar?”
I’m like, “No. I don’t.”
It’s been more than a year, but I remember every detail. When you go into medicine, you dream that one day you’ll be able to say, “I saved somebody.”
He texted me a year later and told me he’s celebrating two birthdays now. He said, “I’m turning 1 year old today!”
I think about the value of life. How we can take it for granted. We think, I’m young, nothing is going to happen to me. But this guy was 39. He went to work and died that night.
I was able to help bring him back. That makes me thankful for every day.
Jose Valle Giler, MD, is a pulmonary, critical care, and sleep medicine physician at NCH Healthcare System in Naples, Florida.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com .
Emergencies happen anywhere, anytime, and sometimes, medical professionals find themselves in situations where they are the only ones who can help. Is There a Doctor in the House? is a series by this news organization that tells these stories.
It was my first night off after 12 days. It was a Friday night, and I went to a bar in Naples to get a beer with some friends. As it turned out, it wasn’t a night off after all.
As soon as we got inside, we heard over the speaker that they needed medical personnel and to please go to the left side of the bar. I thought it would be syncope or something like that.
I went over there and saw a woman holding up a man. He was basically leaning all over her. The light was low, and the music was pounding. I started to assess him and tried to get him to answer me. No response. I checked for pulses — nothing.
The woman helped me lower him to the floor. I checked again for a pulse. Still nothing. I said, “Call 911,” and started compressions.
The difficult part was the place was completely dark. I knew where his body was on the floor. I could see his chest. But I couldn’t see his face at all.
It was also extremely loud with the music thumping. After a while, they finally shut it off.
Pretty soon, the security personnel from the bar brought me an automated external defibrillator, and it showed the man was having V-fib arrest. I shocked him. Still no pulse. I continued with cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR).
I hadn’t noticed, but lots of people were crowding around us. Somebody came up and said, “He’s my friend. He has a 9-year-old daughter. He can’t die. Let me help with the compressions.” I was like, “Go for it.”
The guy started kind of pushing on the man’s abdomen. He had no idea how to do compressions. I said, “Okay, let me take over again.”
Out of the crowd, nobody else volunteered to help. No one asked me, “Hey, what can I do?” Meanwhile, I found out later that someone was filming the whole thing on their phone.
But what the guy said about the man’s young daughter stayed in my brain. I thought, we need to keep going.
I did more compressions and shocked him again. Still no pulse. At that point, the police and emergency medical services showed up. They checked, nothing had changed, so they got him into the ambulance.
I asked one of the paramedics, “Where are you taking him? I can call ahead.”
But he said, “That’s HIPAA. We can’t tell you.” They also wouldn’t let me go with him in the ambulance.
“I have an active Florida license, and I work in the ICU [intensive care unit],” I said.
“No, we need to follow our protocol,” he replied.
I understood that, but I just wanted to help.
It was around 10:30 PM by then, and I was drenched in sweat. I had to go home. The first thing I did after taking a shower was open the computer and check my system. I needed to find out what happened to the guy.
I was looking for admissions, and I didn’t see him. I called the main hospital downtown and the one in North Naples. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I stayed up until almost 1:00 AM checking for his name. At that point I thought, okay, maybe he died.
The next night, Saturday, I was home and got a call from one of my colleagues. “Hey, were you in a bar yesterday? Did you do CPR on somebody?”
“How did you know?” I said.
He said the paramedics had described me — “a tall doctor with glasses who was a nice guy.” It was funny that he knew that was me.
He told me, “The guy’s alive. He’s sick and needs to be put on dialysis, but he’s alive.”
Apparently, the guy had gone to the emergency department at North Naples, and the doctors in the emergency room (ER) worked on him for over an hour. They did continuous CPR and shocked him for close to 40 minutes. They finally got his pulse back, and after that, he was transferred to the main hospital ICU. They didn’t admit him at the ER, which was why I couldn’t find his name.
On Sunday, I was checking my patients’ charts for the ICU that coming week. And there he was. I saw his name and the documentation by the ED that CPR was provided by a critical care doctor in the field. He was still alive. That gave me so much joy.
So, the man I had helped became my patient. When I saw him on Monday, he was intubated and needed dialysis. I finally saw his face and thought, Oh, so that’s what you look like. I hadn’t realized he was only 39 years old.
When he was awake, I explained to him I was the doctor that provided CPR at the bar. He was very grateful, but of course, he didn’t remember anything.
Eventually, I met his daughter, and she just said, “Thank you for allowing me to have my dad.”
The funny part is that he broke his leg. Well, that’s not funny, but no one had any idea how it happened. That was his only complaint. He was asking me, “Doctor, how did you break my leg?”
“Hey, I have no idea how you broke your leg,” I replied. “I was trying to save your life.”
He was in the hospital for almost a month but made a full recovery. The amazing part: After all the evaluations, he has no neurological deficits. He’s back to a normal life now.
They never found a cause for the cardiac arrest. I mean, he had an ejection fraction of 10%. All my money was on something drug related, but that wasn’t the case. They’d done a cardiac cut, and there was no obstruction. They couldn’t find a reason.
We’ve become friends. He still works as a DJ at the bar. He changed his name to “DJ the Survivor” or something like that.
Sometimes, he’ll text me: “Doctor, what are you doing? You want to come down to the bar?”
I’m like, “No. I don’t.”
It’s been more than a year, but I remember every detail. When you go into medicine, you dream that one day you’ll be able to say, “I saved somebody.”
He texted me a year later and told me he’s celebrating two birthdays now. He said, “I’m turning 1 year old today!”
I think about the value of life. How we can take it for granted. We think, I’m young, nothing is going to happen to me. But this guy was 39. He went to work and died that night.
I was able to help bring him back. That makes me thankful for every day.
Jose Valle Giler, MD, is a pulmonary, critical care, and sleep medicine physician at NCH Healthcare System in Naples, Florida.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com .
Moral Injury in Health Care: A Unified Definition and its Relationship to Burnout
Moral injury was identified by health care professionals (HCPs) as a driver of occupational distress prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, but the crisis expanded the appeal and investigation of the term.1 HCPs now consider moral injury an essential component of the framework to describe their distress, because using the term burnout alone fails to capture their full experience and has proven resistant to interventions.2 Moral injury goes beyond the transdiagnostic symptoms of exhaustion and cynicism and beyond operational, demand-resource mismatches that characterize burnout. It describes the frustration, anger, and helplessness associated with relational ruptures and the existential threats to a clinician’s professional identity as business interests erode their ability to put their patients’ needs ahead of corporate and health care system obligations.3
Proper characterization of moral injury in health care—separate from the military environments where it originated—is stymied by an ill-defined relationship between 2 definitions of the term and by an unclear relationship between moral injury and the long-standing body of scholarship in burnout. To clarify the concept, inform research agendas, and open avenues for more effective solutions to the crisis of HCP distress, we propose a unified conceptualization of moral injury and its association with burnout in health care.
CONTEXTUAL DISTINCTIONS
It is important to properly distinguish between the original use of moral injury in the military and its expanded use in civilian circumstances. Health care and the military are both professions whereupon donning the “uniform” of a physician—or soldier, sailor, airman, or marine—members must comport with strict expectations of behavior, including the refusal to engage in illegal actions or those contrary to professional ethics. Individuals in both professions acquire a highly specialized body of knowledge and enter an implied contract to provide critical services to society, specifically healing and protection, respectively. Members of both professions are trained to make complex judgments with integrity under conditions of technical and ethical uncertainty, upon which they take highly skilled action. Medical and military professionals must be free to act on their ethical principles, without confounding demands.4 However, the context of each profession’s commitment to society carries different moral implications.
The risk of moral injury is inherent in military service. The military promises protection with an implicit acknowledgment of the need to use lethal force to uphold the agreement. In contrast, HCPs promise healing and care. The military promises to protect our society, with an implicit acknowledgment of the need to use lethal force to uphold the agreement. Some military actions may inflict harm without the hope of benefitting an individual, and are therefore potentially morally injurious. The health care contract with society, promising healing and care, is devoid of inherent moral injury due to harm without potential individual benefit. Therefore, the presence of moral injury in health care settings are warning signs of a dysfunctional environment.
One complex example of the dysfunctional environments is illustrative. The military and health care are among the few industries where supply creates demand. For example, the more bad state actors there are, the more demand for the military. As we have seen since the 1950s, the more technology and therapeutics we create in health care, coupled with a larger share paid for by third parties, the greater the demand for and use of them.5 In a fee for service environment, corporate greed feeds on this reality. In most other environments, more technological and therapeutic options inevitably pit clinicians against multiple other factions: payers, who do not want to underwrite them; patients, who sometimes demand them without justification or later rail against spiraling health care costs; and administrators, especially in capitated systems, who watch their bottom lines erode. The moral injury risk in this instance demands a collective conversation among stakeholders regarding the structural determinants of health—how we choose to distribute limited resources. The intermediary of moral injury is a useful measure of the harm that results from ignoring or avoiding such challenges.
HARMONIZING DEFINITIONS
Moral injury is inherently nuanced. The 2 dominant definitions arise from work with combat veterans and create additional and perhaps unnecessary complexity. Unifying these 2 definitions eliminates inadvertent confusion, preventing the risk of unbridled interdisciplinary investigation which leads to a lack of precision in the meaning of moral injury and other related concepts, such as burnout.6
The first definition was developed by Jonathan Shay in 1994 and outlines 3 necessarycomponents, viewing the violator as a powerholder: (1) betrayal of what is right, (2) by someone who holds legitimate authority, (3) in a high stakes situation.7 Litz and colleagues describe moral injury another way: “Perpetrating, failing to prevent, bearing witness to, or learning about acts that transgress deeply held moral beliefs and expectations.”8 The violator is posited to be either the self or others.
Rather than representing “self” or “other” imposed moral injury, we propose the 2 definitions are related as exposure (ie, the perceived betrayal) and response (ie, the resulting transgression). An individual who experiences a betrayal by a legitimate authority has an opportunity to choose their response. They may acquiesce and transgress their moral beliefs (eg, their oath to provide ethical health care), or they could refuse, by speaking out, or in some way resisting the authority’s betrayal. The case of Ray Brovont is a useful illustration of reconciling the definitions (Box).9
Myriad factors—known as potentially morally injurious events—drive moral injury, such as resource-constrained decision making, witnessing the behaviors of colleagues that violate deeply held moral beliefs, questionable billing practices, and more. Each begins with a betrayal. Spotlighting the betrayal, refusing to perpetuate it, or taking actions toward change, may reduce the risk of experiencing moral injury.9 Conversely, acquiescing and transgressing one’s oath, the profession’s covenant with society, increases the risk of experiencing moral injury.8
Many HCPs believe they are not always free to resist betrayal, fearing retaliation, job loss, blacklisting, or worse. They feel constrained by debt accrued while receiving their education, being their household’s primary earner, community ties, practicing a niche specialty that requires working for a tertiary referral center, or perhaps believing the situation will be the same elsewhere. To not stand up or speak out is to choose complicity with corporate greed that uses HCPs to undermine their professional duties, which significantly increases the risk of experiencing moral injury.
MORAL INJURY AND BURNOUT
In addition to reconciling the definitions of moral injury, the relationship between moral injury and burnout are still being elucidated. We suggest that moral injury and burnout represent independent and potentially interrelated pathways to distress (Figure). Exposure to chronic, inconsonant, and transactional demands, which things like shorter work hours, better self-care, or improved health system operations might mitigate, manifests as burnout. In contrast, moral injury arises when a superior’s actions or a system’s policies and practices—such as justifiable but unnecessary testing, or referral restrictions to prevent revenue leakage—undermine one’s professional obligations to prioritize the patient’s best interest.
If concerns from HCPs about transactional demands are persistently dismissed, such inaction may be perceived as a betrayal, raising the risk of moral injury. Additionally, the resignation or helplessness of moral injury perceived as inescapable may present with emotional exhaustion, ineffectiveness, and depersonalization, all hallmarks of burnout. Both conditions can mediate and moderate the relationship between triggers for workplace distress and resulting psychological, physical, and existential harm.
CONCLUSIONS
Moral injury is increasingly recognized as a source of distress among HCPs, resulting from structural constraints on their ability to deliver optimal care and their own unwillingness to stand up for their patients, their oaths, and their professions.1 Unlike the military, where moral injury is inherent in the contract with society, moral injury in health care (and the relational rupture it connotes) is a signal of systemic dysfunction, fractured trust, and the need for relational repair.
Health care is at a crossroads, experiencing a workforce retention crisis while simultaneously predicting a significant increase in care needs by Baby Boomers over the next 3 decades.
Health care does not have the luxury of experimenting another 30 years with interventions that have limited impact. We must design a new generation of approaches, shaped by lessons learned from the pandemic while acknowledging that prepandemic standards were already failing the workforce. A unified definition of moral injury must be integrated to frame clinician distress alongside burnout, recentering ethical decision making, rather than profit, at the heart of health care. Harmonizing the definitions of moral injury and clarifying the relationship of moral injury with burnout reduces the need for further reinterpretations, allowing for more robust, easily comparable studies focused on identifying risk factors, as well as rapidly implementing effective mitigation strategies.
1. Griffin BJ, Weber MC, Hinkson KD, et al. Toward a dimensional contextual model of moral injury: a scoping review on healthcare workers. Curr Treat Options Psych. 2023;10:199-216. doi:10.1007/s40501-023-00296-4
2. National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine; National Academy of Medicine; Committee on Systems Approaches to Improve Patient Care by Supporting Clinician Well-Being. Taking Action Against Clinician Burnout: A Systems Approach to Professional Well-Being. The National Academies Press; 2019. doi:10.17226/25521
3. Dean W, Talbot S, Dean A. Reframing clinician distress: moral injury not burnout. Fed Pract. 2019;36(9):400-402.
4. Gardner HE, Schulman LS. The professions in America today: crucial but fragile. Daedalus. 2005;134(3):13-18. doi:10.1162/0011526054622132
5. Fuchs VR. Major trends in the U.S. health economy since 1950. N Engl J Med. 2012;366(11):973-977. doi:10.1056/NEJMp1200478
6. Molendijk T. Warnings against romanticising moral injury. Br J Psychiatry. 2022;220(1):1-3. doi:10.1192/bjp.2021.114
7. Shay J. Moral injury. Psychoanalytic Psychol. 2014;31(2):182-191. doi:10.1037/a0036090
8. Litz BT, Stein N, Delaney E, et al. Moral injury and moral repair in war veterans: a preliminary model and intervention strategy. Clin Psychol Rev. 2009;29(8):695-706. doi:10.1016/j.cpr.2009.07.003
9. Brovont v KS-I Med. Servs., P.A., 622 SW3d 671 (Mo Ct App 2020).
Wendy Dean, MDa; Deborah Morris, DClinPsychb,c; Mustfa K. Manzur, MD, MPH, MSd,e,f; Simon Talbot, MDg.h
Correspondence: Wendy Dean (wdean@moralinjury. healthcare)
aMoral Injury of Healthcare, Carlisle, Pennsylvania
bCentre for Developmental and Complex Trauma, St. Andrew’s Healthcare, Northampton, United Kingdom
cThe University of Buckingham, United Kingdom
dAlbert Einstein College of Medicine, Bronx, New York
eMontefiore Medical Center, Bronx, New York
fJacobi Medical Center, Bronx, New York
gBrigham and Women’s Hospital, Boston, Massachusetts
hHarvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts
Author disclosures
Wendy Dean and Simon Talbot are cofounders of Moral Injury of Healthcare, a nonprofit organization. Dean is a speaker for LeighHealth Speakers Bureau. The University of Florida and Rothman Orthopedic Institute have made payments to Moral Injury of Healthcare.
Disclaimer
The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of Federal Practitioner, Frontline Medical Communications Inc., the US Government, or any of its agencies.
Ethics and consent
The Veterans Affairs Greater Los Angeles Healthcare System institutional review board determined that this study was exempt. The datasets generated and/or analyzed during the current study are not publicly available but may be available from the corresponding author on reasonable request.
Wendy Dean, MDa; Deborah Morris, DClinPsychb,c; Mustfa K. Manzur, MD, MPH, MSd,e,f; Simon Talbot, MDg.h
Correspondence: Wendy Dean (wdean@moralinjury. healthcare)
aMoral Injury of Healthcare, Carlisle, Pennsylvania
bCentre for Developmental and Complex Trauma, St. Andrew’s Healthcare, Northampton, United Kingdom
cThe University of Buckingham, United Kingdom
dAlbert Einstein College of Medicine, Bronx, New York
eMontefiore Medical Center, Bronx, New York
fJacobi Medical Center, Bronx, New York
gBrigham and Women’s Hospital, Boston, Massachusetts
hHarvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts
Author disclosures
Wendy Dean and Simon Talbot are cofounders of Moral Injury of Healthcare, a nonprofit organization. Dean is a speaker for LeighHealth Speakers Bureau. The University of Florida and Rothman Orthopedic Institute have made payments to Moral Injury of Healthcare.
Disclaimer
The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of Federal Practitioner, Frontline Medical Communications Inc., the US Government, or any of its agencies.
Ethics and consent
The Veterans Affairs Greater Los Angeles Healthcare System institutional review board determined that this study was exempt. The datasets generated and/or analyzed during the current study are not publicly available but may be available from the corresponding author on reasonable request.
Wendy Dean, MDa; Deborah Morris, DClinPsychb,c; Mustfa K. Manzur, MD, MPH, MSd,e,f; Simon Talbot, MDg.h
Correspondence: Wendy Dean (wdean@moralinjury. healthcare)
aMoral Injury of Healthcare, Carlisle, Pennsylvania
bCentre for Developmental and Complex Trauma, St. Andrew’s Healthcare, Northampton, United Kingdom
cThe University of Buckingham, United Kingdom
dAlbert Einstein College of Medicine, Bronx, New York
eMontefiore Medical Center, Bronx, New York
fJacobi Medical Center, Bronx, New York
gBrigham and Women’s Hospital, Boston, Massachusetts
hHarvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts
Author disclosures
Wendy Dean and Simon Talbot are cofounders of Moral Injury of Healthcare, a nonprofit organization. Dean is a speaker for LeighHealth Speakers Bureau. The University of Florida and Rothman Orthopedic Institute have made payments to Moral Injury of Healthcare.
Disclaimer
The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of Federal Practitioner, Frontline Medical Communications Inc., the US Government, or any of its agencies.
Ethics and consent
The Veterans Affairs Greater Los Angeles Healthcare System institutional review board determined that this study was exempt. The datasets generated and/or analyzed during the current study are not publicly available but may be available from the corresponding author on reasonable request.
Moral injury was identified by health care professionals (HCPs) as a driver of occupational distress prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, but the crisis expanded the appeal and investigation of the term.1 HCPs now consider moral injury an essential component of the framework to describe their distress, because using the term burnout alone fails to capture their full experience and has proven resistant to interventions.2 Moral injury goes beyond the transdiagnostic symptoms of exhaustion and cynicism and beyond operational, demand-resource mismatches that characterize burnout. It describes the frustration, anger, and helplessness associated with relational ruptures and the existential threats to a clinician’s professional identity as business interests erode their ability to put their patients’ needs ahead of corporate and health care system obligations.3
Proper characterization of moral injury in health care—separate from the military environments where it originated—is stymied by an ill-defined relationship between 2 definitions of the term and by an unclear relationship between moral injury and the long-standing body of scholarship in burnout. To clarify the concept, inform research agendas, and open avenues for more effective solutions to the crisis of HCP distress, we propose a unified conceptualization of moral injury and its association with burnout in health care.
CONTEXTUAL DISTINCTIONS
It is important to properly distinguish between the original use of moral injury in the military and its expanded use in civilian circumstances. Health care and the military are both professions whereupon donning the “uniform” of a physician—or soldier, sailor, airman, or marine—members must comport with strict expectations of behavior, including the refusal to engage in illegal actions or those contrary to professional ethics. Individuals in both professions acquire a highly specialized body of knowledge and enter an implied contract to provide critical services to society, specifically healing and protection, respectively. Members of both professions are trained to make complex judgments with integrity under conditions of technical and ethical uncertainty, upon which they take highly skilled action. Medical and military professionals must be free to act on their ethical principles, without confounding demands.4 However, the context of each profession’s commitment to society carries different moral implications.
The risk of moral injury is inherent in military service. The military promises protection with an implicit acknowledgment of the need to use lethal force to uphold the agreement. In contrast, HCPs promise healing and care. The military promises to protect our society, with an implicit acknowledgment of the need to use lethal force to uphold the agreement. Some military actions may inflict harm without the hope of benefitting an individual, and are therefore potentially morally injurious. The health care contract with society, promising healing and care, is devoid of inherent moral injury due to harm without potential individual benefit. Therefore, the presence of moral injury in health care settings are warning signs of a dysfunctional environment.
One complex example of the dysfunctional environments is illustrative. The military and health care are among the few industries where supply creates demand. For example, the more bad state actors there are, the more demand for the military. As we have seen since the 1950s, the more technology and therapeutics we create in health care, coupled with a larger share paid for by third parties, the greater the demand for and use of them.5 In a fee for service environment, corporate greed feeds on this reality. In most other environments, more technological and therapeutic options inevitably pit clinicians against multiple other factions: payers, who do not want to underwrite them; patients, who sometimes demand them without justification or later rail against spiraling health care costs; and administrators, especially in capitated systems, who watch their bottom lines erode. The moral injury risk in this instance demands a collective conversation among stakeholders regarding the structural determinants of health—how we choose to distribute limited resources. The intermediary of moral injury is a useful measure of the harm that results from ignoring or avoiding such challenges.
HARMONIZING DEFINITIONS
Moral injury is inherently nuanced. The 2 dominant definitions arise from work with combat veterans and create additional and perhaps unnecessary complexity. Unifying these 2 definitions eliminates inadvertent confusion, preventing the risk of unbridled interdisciplinary investigation which leads to a lack of precision in the meaning of moral injury and other related concepts, such as burnout.6
The first definition was developed by Jonathan Shay in 1994 and outlines 3 necessarycomponents, viewing the violator as a powerholder: (1) betrayal of what is right, (2) by someone who holds legitimate authority, (3) in a high stakes situation.7 Litz and colleagues describe moral injury another way: “Perpetrating, failing to prevent, bearing witness to, or learning about acts that transgress deeply held moral beliefs and expectations.”8 The violator is posited to be either the self or others.
Rather than representing “self” or “other” imposed moral injury, we propose the 2 definitions are related as exposure (ie, the perceived betrayal) and response (ie, the resulting transgression). An individual who experiences a betrayal by a legitimate authority has an opportunity to choose their response. They may acquiesce and transgress their moral beliefs (eg, their oath to provide ethical health care), or they could refuse, by speaking out, or in some way resisting the authority’s betrayal. The case of Ray Brovont is a useful illustration of reconciling the definitions (Box).9
Myriad factors—known as potentially morally injurious events—drive moral injury, such as resource-constrained decision making, witnessing the behaviors of colleagues that violate deeply held moral beliefs, questionable billing practices, and more. Each begins with a betrayal. Spotlighting the betrayal, refusing to perpetuate it, or taking actions toward change, may reduce the risk of experiencing moral injury.9 Conversely, acquiescing and transgressing one’s oath, the profession’s covenant with society, increases the risk of experiencing moral injury.8
Many HCPs believe they are not always free to resist betrayal, fearing retaliation, job loss, blacklisting, or worse. They feel constrained by debt accrued while receiving their education, being their household’s primary earner, community ties, practicing a niche specialty that requires working for a tertiary referral center, or perhaps believing the situation will be the same elsewhere. To not stand up or speak out is to choose complicity with corporate greed that uses HCPs to undermine their professional duties, which significantly increases the risk of experiencing moral injury.
MORAL INJURY AND BURNOUT
In addition to reconciling the definitions of moral injury, the relationship between moral injury and burnout are still being elucidated. We suggest that moral injury and burnout represent independent and potentially interrelated pathways to distress (Figure). Exposure to chronic, inconsonant, and transactional demands, which things like shorter work hours, better self-care, or improved health system operations might mitigate, manifests as burnout. In contrast, moral injury arises when a superior’s actions or a system’s policies and practices—such as justifiable but unnecessary testing, or referral restrictions to prevent revenue leakage—undermine one’s professional obligations to prioritize the patient’s best interest.
If concerns from HCPs about transactional demands are persistently dismissed, such inaction may be perceived as a betrayal, raising the risk of moral injury. Additionally, the resignation or helplessness of moral injury perceived as inescapable may present with emotional exhaustion, ineffectiveness, and depersonalization, all hallmarks of burnout. Both conditions can mediate and moderate the relationship between triggers for workplace distress and resulting psychological, physical, and existential harm.
CONCLUSIONS
Moral injury is increasingly recognized as a source of distress among HCPs, resulting from structural constraints on their ability to deliver optimal care and their own unwillingness to stand up for their patients, their oaths, and their professions.1 Unlike the military, where moral injury is inherent in the contract with society, moral injury in health care (and the relational rupture it connotes) is a signal of systemic dysfunction, fractured trust, and the need for relational repair.
Health care is at a crossroads, experiencing a workforce retention crisis while simultaneously predicting a significant increase in care needs by Baby Boomers over the next 3 decades.
Health care does not have the luxury of experimenting another 30 years with interventions that have limited impact. We must design a new generation of approaches, shaped by lessons learned from the pandemic while acknowledging that prepandemic standards were already failing the workforce. A unified definition of moral injury must be integrated to frame clinician distress alongside burnout, recentering ethical decision making, rather than profit, at the heart of health care. Harmonizing the definitions of moral injury and clarifying the relationship of moral injury with burnout reduces the need for further reinterpretations, allowing for more robust, easily comparable studies focused on identifying risk factors, as well as rapidly implementing effective mitigation strategies.
Moral injury was identified by health care professionals (HCPs) as a driver of occupational distress prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, but the crisis expanded the appeal and investigation of the term.1 HCPs now consider moral injury an essential component of the framework to describe their distress, because using the term burnout alone fails to capture their full experience and has proven resistant to interventions.2 Moral injury goes beyond the transdiagnostic symptoms of exhaustion and cynicism and beyond operational, demand-resource mismatches that characterize burnout. It describes the frustration, anger, and helplessness associated with relational ruptures and the existential threats to a clinician’s professional identity as business interests erode their ability to put their patients’ needs ahead of corporate and health care system obligations.3
Proper characterization of moral injury in health care—separate from the military environments where it originated—is stymied by an ill-defined relationship between 2 definitions of the term and by an unclear relationship between moral injury and the long-standing body of scholarship in burnout. To clarify the concept, inform research agendas, and open avenues for more effective solutions to the crisis of HCP distress, we propose a unified conceptualization of moral injury and its association with burnout in health care.
CONTEXTUAL DISTINCTIONS
It is important to properly distinguish between the original use of moral injury in the military and its expanded use in civilian circumstances. Health care and the military are both professions whereupon donning the “uniform” of a physician—or soldier, sailor, airman, or marine—members must comport with strict expectations of behavior, including the refusal to engage in illegal actions or those contrary to professional ethics. Individuals in both professions acquire a highly specialized body of knowledge and enter an implied contract to provide critical services to society, specifically healing and protection, respectively. Members of both professions are trained to make complex judgments with integrity under conditions of technical and ethical uncertainty, upon which they take highly skilled action. Medical and military professionals must be free to act on their ethical principles, without confounding demands.4 However, the context of each profession’s commitment to society carries different moral implications.
The risk of moral injury is inherent in military service. The military promises protection with an implicit acknowledgment of the need to use lethal force to uphold the agreement. In contrast, HCPs promise healing and care. The military promises to protect our society, with an implicit acknowledgment of the need to use lethal force to uphold the agreement. Some military actions may inflict harm without the hope of benefitting an individual, and are therefore potentially morally injurious. The health care contract with society, promising healing and care, is devoid of inherent moral injury due to harm without potential individual benefit. Therefore, the presence of moral injury in health care settings are warning signs of a dysfunctional environment.
One complex example of the dysfunctional environments is illustrative. The military and health care are among the few industries where supply creates demand. For example, the more bad state actors there are, the more demand for the military. As we have seen since the 1950s, the more technology and therapeutics we create in health care, coupled with a larger share paid for by third parties, the greater the demand for and use of them.5 In a fee for service environment, corporate greed feeds on this reality. In most other environments, more technological and therapeutic options inevitably pit clinicians against multiple other factions: payers, who do not want to underwrite them; patients, who sometimes demand them without justification or later rail against spiraling health care costs; and administrators, especially in capitated systems, who watch their bottom lines erode. The moral injury risk in this instance demands a collective conversation among stakeholders regarding the structural determinants of health—how we choose to distribute limited resources. The intermediary of moral injury is a useful measure of the harm that results from ignoring or avoiding such challenges.
HARMONIZING DEFINITIONS
Moral injury is inherently nuanced. The 2 dominant definitions arise from work with combat veterans and create additional and perhaps unnecessary complexity. Unifying these 2 definitions eliminates inadvertent confusion, preventing the risk of unbridled interdisciplinary investigation which leads to a lack of precision in the meaning of moral injury and other related concepts, such as burnout.6
The first definition was developed by Jonathan Shay in 1994 and outlines 3 necessarycomponents, viewing the violator as a powerholder: (1) betrayal of what is right, (2) by someone who holds legitimate authority, (3) in a high stakes situation.7 Litz and colleagues describe moral injury another way: “Perpetrating, failing to prevent, bearing witness to, or learning about acts that transgress deeply held moral beliefs and expectations.”8 The violator is posited to be either the self or others.
Rather than representing “self” or “other” imposed moral injury, we propose the 2 definitions are related as exposure (ie, the perceived betrayal) and response (ie, the resulting transgression). An individual who experiences a betrayal by a legitimate authority has an opportunity to choose their response. They may acquiesce and transgress their moral beliefs (eg, their oath to provide ethical health care), or they could refuse, by speaking out, or in some way resisting the authority’s betrayal. The case of Ray Brovont is a useful illustration of reconciling the definitions (Box).9
Myriad factors—known as potentially morally injurious events—drive moral injury, such as resource-constrained decision making, witnessing the behaviors of colleagues that violate deeply held moral beliefs, questionable billing practices, and more. Each begins with a betrayal. Spotlighting the betrayal, refusing to perpetuate it, or taking actions toward change, may reduce the risk of experiencing moral injury.9 Conversely, acquiescing and transgressing one’s oath, the profession’s covenant with society, increases the risk of experiencing moral injury.8
Many HCPs believe they are not always free to resist betrayal, fearing retaliation, job loss, blacklisting, or worse. They feel constrained by debt accrued while receiving their education, being their household’s primary earner, community ties, practicing a niche specialty that requires working for a tertiary referral center, or perhaps believing the situation will be the same elsewhere. To not stand up or speak out is to choose complicity with corporate greed that uses HCPs to undermine their professional duties, which significantly increases the risk of experiencing moral injury.
MORAL INJURY AND BURNOUT
In addition to reconciling the definitions of moral injury, the relationship between moral injury and burnout are still being elucidated. We suggest that moral injury and burnout represent independent and potentially interrelated pathways to distress (Figure). Exposure to chronic, inconsonant, and transactional demands, which things like shorter work hours, better self-care, or improved health system operations might mitigate, manifests as burnout. In contrast, moral injury arises when a superior’s actions or a system’s policies and practices—such as justifiable but unnecessary testing, or referral restrictions to prevent revenue leakage—undermine one’s professional obligations to prioritize the patient’s best interest.
If concerns from HCPs about transactional demands are persistently dismissed, such inaction may be perceived as a betrayal, raising the risk of moral injury. Additionally, the resignation or helplessness of moral injury perceived as inescapable may present with emotional exhaustion, ineffectiveness, and depersonalization, all hallmarks of burnout. Both conditions can mediate and moderate the relationship between triggers for workplace distress and resulting psychological, physical, and existential harm.
CONCLUSIONS
Moral injury is increasingly recognized as a source of distress among HCPs, resulting from structural constraints on their ability to deliver optimal care and their own unwillingness to stand up for their patients, their oaths, and their professions.1 Unlike the military, where moral injury is inherent in the contract with society, moral injury in health care (and the relational rupture it connotes) is a signal of systemic dysfunction, fractured trust, and the need for relational repair.
Health care is at a crossroads, experiencing a workforce retention crisis while simultaneously predicting a significant increase in care needs by Baby Boomers over the next 3 decades.
Health care does not have the luxury of experimenting another 30 years with interventions that have limited impact. We must design a new generation of approaches, shaped by lessons learned from the pandemic while acknowledging that prepandemic standards were already failing the workforce. A unified definition of moral injury must be integrated to frame clinician distress alongside burnout, recentering ethical decision making, rather than profit, at the heart of health care. Harmonizing the definitions of moral injury and clarifying the relationship of moral injury with burnout reduces the need for further reinterpretations, allowing for more robust, easily comparable studies focused on identifying risk factors, as well as rapidly implementing effective mitigation strategies.
1. Griffin BJ, Weber MC, Hinkson KD, et al. Toward a dimensional contextual model of moral injury: a scoping review on healthcare workers. Curr Treat Options Psych. 2023;10:199-216. doi:10.1007/s40501-023-00296-4
2. National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine; National Academy of Medicine; Committee on Systems Approaches to Improve Patient Care by Supporting Clinician Well-Being. Taking Action Against Clinician Burnout: A Systems Approach to Professional Well-Being. The National Academies Press; 2019. doi:10.17226/25521
3. Dean W, Talbot S, Dean A. Reframing clinician distress: moral injury not burnout. Fed Pract. 2019;36(9):400-402.
4. Gardner HE, Schulman LS. The professions in America today: crucial but fragile. Daedalus. 2005;134(3):13-18. doi:10.1162/0011526054622132
5. Fuchs VR. Major trends in the U.S. health economy since 1950. N Engl J Med. 2012;366(11):973-977. doi:10.1056/NEJMp1200478
6. Molendijk T. Warnings against romanticising moral injury. Br J Psychiatry. 2022;220(1):1-3. doi:10.1192/bjp.2021.114
7. Shay J. Moral injury. Psychoanalytic Psychol. 2014;31(2):182-191. doi:10.1037/a0036090
8. Litz BT, Stein N, Delaney E, et al. Moral injury and moral repair in war veterans: a preliminary model and intervention strategy. Clin Psychol Rev. 2009;29(8):695-706. doi:10.1016/j.cpr.2009.07.003
9. Brovont v KS-I Med. Servs., P.A., 622 SW3d 671 (Mo Ct App 2020).
1. Griffin BJ, Weber MC, Hinkson KD, et al. Toward a dimensional contextual model of moral injury: a scoping review on healthcare workers. Curr Treat Options Psych. 2023;10:199-216. doi:10.1007/s40501-023-00296-4
2. National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine; National Academy of Medicine; Committee on Systems Approaches to Improve Patient Care by Supporting Clinician Well-Being. Taking Action Against Clinician Burnout: A Systems Approach to Professional Well-Being. The National Academies Press; 2019. doi:10.17226/25521
3. Dean W, Talbot S, Dean A. Reframing clinician distress: moral injury not burnout. Fed Pract. 2019;36(9):400-402.
4. Gardner HE, Schulman LS. The professions in America today: crucial but fragile. Daedalus. 2005;134(3):13-18. doi:10.1162/0011526054622132
5. Fuchs VR. Major trends in the U.S. health economy since 1950. N Engl J Med. 2012;366(11):973-977. doi:10.1056/NEJMp1200478
6. Molendijk T. Warnings against romanticising moral injury. Br J Psychiatry. 2022;220(1):1-3. doi:10.1192/bjp.2021.114
7. Shay J. Moral injury. Psychoanalytic Psychol. 2014;31(2):182-191. doi:10.1037/a0036090
8. Litz BT, Stein N, Delaney E, et al. Moral injury and moral repair in war veterans: a preliminary model and intervention strategy. Clin Psychol Rev. 2009;29(8):695-706. doi:10.1016/j.cpr.2009.07.003
9. Brovont v KS-I Med. Servs., P.A., 622 SW3d 671 (Mo Ct App 2020).
How to Cure Hedonic Eating?
Logan is a 62-year-old woman who has reached the pinnacle of professional success. She started a $50 million consumer products company and, after selling it, managed to develop another successful brand. She is healthy and happily married, with four adult children. And yet, despite all her achievements and stable family life, Logan was always bothered by her inability to lose weight.
Despite peddling in beauty, she felt perpetually overweight and, frankly, unattractive. She has no family history of obesity, drinks minimal alcohol, and follows an (allegedly) healthy diet. Logan had tried “everything” to lose weight — human growth hormone injections (not prescribed by me), Ozempic-like medications, Belviq, etc. — all to no avail.
Here’s the catch: After she finished with her busy days of meetings and spreadsheets, Logan sat down to read through countless emails and rewarded herself with all her favorite foods. Without realizing it, she often doubled her daily caloric intake in one sitting. She wasn’t hungry in these moments, rather just a little worn out and perhaps a little careless. She then proceeded to email her doctor (me) to report on this endless cycle of unwanted behavior.
In January 2024, a novel study from Turkey examined the relationship between hedonic eating, self-condemnation, and self-esteem. Surprising to no one, the study determined that higher hedonic hunger scores were associated with lower self-esteem and an increased propensity to self-stigmatize.
Oprah could have handily predicted this conclusion. Many years ago, she described food as a fake friend: Perhaps you’ve had a long and difficult day. While you’re busy eating your feelings, the heaping plate of pasta feels like your best buddy in the world. However, the moment the plate is empty, you realize that you feel worse than before. Not only do you have to unbutton your new jeans, but you also realize that you have just lost your ability to self-regulate.
While the positive association between hedonic eating and low self-esteem may seem self-evident, the solution is less obvious. Mindfulness is one possible approach to this issue. Mindfulness has been described as “paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and nonjudgmentally” and has existed for thousands of years. Mindful eating, in particular, involves paying close attention to our food choices and how they affect our emotions, and typically includes some combination of:
- Slowing down eating/chewing thoroughly
- Eliminating distractions such as TV, computers, and phones — perhaps even eating in silence
- Eating only until physically satiated
- Distinguishing between true hunger and cravings
- Noticing the texture, flavors, and smell of food
- Paying attention to the effect of food on your mood
- Appreciating food
In our society, where processed food is so readily available and stress is so ubiquitous, eating can become a hedonic and fast-paced activity. Our brains don’t have time to process our bodies’ signals of fullness and, as a result, we often ingest many more calories than we need for a healthy lifestyle.
If mindless eating is part of the problem, mindful eating is part of the solution. Indeed, a meta-review of 10 scientific studies showed that mindful eating is as effective as conventional weight loss programs in regard to body mass index and waist circumference. On the basis of these studies — as well as some good old-fashioned common sense — intuitive eating is an important component of sustainable weight reduction.
Eventually, I convinced Logan to meet up with the psychologist in our group who specializes in emotional eating. Through weekly cognitive-behavioral therapy sessions, Logan was able to understand the impetus behind her self-defeating behavior and has finally been able to reverse some of her lifelong habits. Once she started practicing mindful eating, I was able to introduce Ozempic, and now Logan is happily shedding several pounds a week.
Dr. Messer has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
Dr. Messer is clinical assistant professor, Mount Sinai School of Medicine and associate professor, Hofstra School of Medicine, both in New York City.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Logan is a 62-year-old woman who has reached the pinnacle of professional success. She started a $50 million consumer products company and, after selling it, managed to develop another successful brand. She is healthy and happily married, with four adult children. And yet, despite all her achievements and stable family life, Logan was always bothered by her inability to lose weight.
Despite peddling in beauty, she felt perpetually overweight and, frankly, unattractive. She has no family history of obesity, drinks minimal alcohol, and follows an (allegedly) healthy diet. Logan had tried “everything” to lose weight — human growth hormone injections (not prescribed by me), Ozempic-like medications, Belviq, etc. — all to no avail.
Here’s the catch: After she finished with her busy days of meetings and spreadsheets, Logan sat down to read through countless emails and rewarded herself with all her favorite foods. Without realizing it, she often doubled her daily caloric intake in one sitting. She wasn’t hungry in these moments, rather just a little worn out and perhaps a little careless. She then proceeded to email her doctor (me) to report on this endless cycle of unwanted behavior.
In January 2024, a novel study from Turkey examined the relationship between hedonic eating, self-condemnation, and self-esteem. Surprising to no one, the study determined that higher hedonic hunger scores were associated with lower self-esteem and an increased propensity to self-stigmatize.
Oprah could have handily predicted this conclusion. Many years ago, she described food as a fake friend: Perhaps you’ve had a long and difficult day. While you’re busy eating your feelings, the heaping plate of pasta feels like your best buddy in the world. However, the moment the plate is empty, you realize that you feel worse than before. Not only do you have to unbutton your new jeans, but you also realize that you have just lost your ability to self-regulate.
While the positive association between hedonic eating and low self-esteem may seem self-evident, the solution is less obvious. Mindfulness is one possible approach to this issue. Mindfulness has been described as “paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and nonjudgmentally” and has existed for thousands of years. Mindful eating, in particular, involves paying close attention to our food choices and how they affect our emotions, and typically includes some combination of:
- Slowing down eating/chewing thoroughly
- Eliminating distractions such as TV, computers, and phones — perhaps even eating in silence
- Eating only until physically satiated
- Distinguishing between true hunger and cravings
- Noticing the texture, flavors, and smell of food
- Paying attention to the effect of food on your mood
- Appreciating food
In our society, where processed food is so readily available and stress is so ubiquitous, eating can become a hedonic and fast-paced activity. Our brains don’t have time to process our bodies’ signals of fullness and, as a result, we often ingest many more calories than we need for a healthy lifestyle.
If mindless eating is part of the problem, mindful eating is part of the solution. Indeed, a meta-review of 10 scientific studies showed that mindful eating is as effective as conventional weight loss programs in regard to body mass index and waist circumference. On the basis of these studies — as well as some good old-fashioned common sense — intuitive eating is an important component of sustainable weight reduction.
Eventually, I convinced Logan to meet up with the psychologist in our group who specializes in emotional eating. Through weekly cognitive-behavioral therapy sessions, Logan was able to understand the impetus behind her self-defeating behavior and has finally been able to reverse some of her lifelong habits. Once she started practicing mindful eating, I was able to introduce Ozempic, and now Logan is happily shedding several pounds a week.
Dr. Messer has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
Dr. Messer is clinical assistant professor, Mount Sinai School of Medicine and associate professor, Hofstra School of Medicine, both in New York City.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Logan is a 62-year-old woman who has reached the pinnacle of professional success. She started a $50 million consumer products company and, after selling it, managed to develop another successful brand. She is healthy and happily married, with four adult children. And yet, despite all her achievements and stable family life, Logan was always bothered by her inability to lose weight.
Despite peddling in beauty, she felt perpetually overweight and, frankly, unattractive. She has no family history of obesity, drinks minimal alcohol, and follows an (allegedly) healthy diet. Logan had tried “everything” to lose weight — human growth hormone injections (not prescribed by me), Ozempic-like medications, Belviq, etc. — all to no avail.
Here’s the catch: After she finished with her busy days of meetings and spreadsheets, Logan sat down to read through countless emails and rewarded herself with all her favorite foods. Without realizing it, she often doubled her daily caloric intake in one sitting. She wasn’t hungry in these moments, rather just a little worn out and perhaps a little careless. She then proceeded to email her doctor (me) to report on this endless cycle of unwanted behavior.
In January 2024, a novel study from Turkey examined the relationship between hedonic eating, self-condemnation, and self-esteem. Surprising to no one, the study determined that higher hedonic hunger scores were associated with lower self-esteem and an increased propensity to self-stigmatize.
Oprah could have handily predicted this conclusion. Many years ago, she described food as a fake friend: Perhaps you’ve had a long and difficult day. While you’re busy eating your feelings, the heaping plate of pasta feels like your best buddy in the world. However, the moment the plate is empty, you realize that you feel worse than before. Not only do you have to unbutton your new jeans, but you also realize that you have just lost your ability to self-regulate.
While the positive association between hedonic eating and low self-esteem may seem self-evident, the solution is less obvious. Mindfulness is one possible approach to this issue. Mindfulness has been described as “paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and nonjudgmentally” and has existed for thousands of years. Mindful eating, in particular, involves paying close attention to our food choices and how they affect our emotions, and typically includes some combination of:
- Slowing down eating/chewing thoroughly
- Eliminating distractions such as TV, computers, and phones — perhaps even eating in silence
- Eating only until physically satiated
- Distinguishing between true hunger and cravings
- Noticing the texture, flavors, and smell of food
- Paying attention to the effect of food on your mood
- Appreciating food
In our society, where processed food is so readily available and stress is so ubiquitous, eating can become a hedonic and fast-paced activity. Our brains don’t have time to process our bodies’ signals of fullness and, as a result, we often ingest many more calories than we need for a healthy lifestyle.
If mindless eating is part of the problem, mindful eating is part of the solution. Indeed, a meta-review of 10 scientific studies showed that mindful eating is as effective as conventional weight loss programs in regard to body mass index and waist circumference. On the basis of these studies — as well as some good old-fashioned common sense — intuitive eating is an important component of sustainable weight reduction.
Eventually, I convinced Logan to meet up with the psychologist in our group who specializes in emotional eating. Through weekly cognitive-behavioral therapy sessions, Logan was able to understand the impetus behind her self-defeating behavior and has finally been able to reverse some of her lifelong habits. Once she started practicing mindful eating, I was able to introduce Ozempic, and now Logan is happily shedding several pounds a week.
Dr. Messer has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
Dr. Messer is clinical assistant professor, Mount Sinai School of Medicine and associate professor, Hofstra School of Medicine, both in New York City.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Why We Need to Know About Our Patients’ History of Trauma
This case is a little out of the ordinary, but we would love to find out how readers would handle it.
Diana is a 51-year-old woman with a history of depression, obesity, hypertension, type 2 diabetes, and coronary artery disease. She has come in for a routine visit for her chronic illnesses. She seems very distant and has a flat affect during the initial interview. When you ask about any recent stressful events, she begins crying and explains that her daughter was just deported, leaving behind a child and boyfriend.
Their country of origin suffers from chronic instability and violence. Diana’s father was murdered there, and Diana was the victim of sexual assault. “I escaped when I was 18, and I tried to never look back. Until now.” Diana is very worried about her daughter’s return to that country. “I don’t want her to have to endure what I have endured.”
You spend some time discussing the patient’s mental health burden and identify a counselor and online resources that might help. You wonder if Diana’s adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) might have contributed to some of her physical illnesses.
ACEs and Adult Health
One of the most pronounced and straightforward links is that between ACEs and depression. In the Southern Community Cohort Study of more than 38,200 US adults, the highest odds ratio between ACEs and chronic disease was for depression. Persons who reported more than three ACEs had about a twofold increase in the risk for depression compared with persons without ACEs. There was a monotonic increase in the risk for depression and other chronic illnesses as the burden of ACEs increased.
In another study from the United Kingdom, each additional ACE was associated with a significant 11% increase in the risk for incident diabetes during adulthood. Researchers found that both depression symptoms and cardiometabolic dysfunction mediated the effects of ACEs in promoting higher rates of diabetes.
Depression and diabetes are significant risk factors for coronary artery disease, so it is not surprising that ACEs are also associated with a higher risk for coronary events. A review by Godoy and colleagues described how ACEs promote neuroendocrine, autonomic, and inflammatory dysfunction, which in turn leads to higher rates of traditional cardiovascular risk factors such as diabetes and obesity. Ultimately, the presence of four or more ACEs is associated with more than a twofold higher risk for cardiovascular disease compared with no ACEs.
Many of the pathologic processes that promote cardiovascular disease also increase the risk for dementia. Could the reach of ACEs span decades to promote a higher risk for dementia among older adults? A study by Yuan and colleagues of 7222 Chinese adults suggests that the answer is yes. This study divided the cohort into persons with a history of no ACEs, household dysfunction during childhood, or mistreatment during childhood. Child mistreatment was associated with higher rates of diabetes, depression, and cardiovascular disease, as well as an odds ratio of 1.37 (95% CI, 1.12 to 1.68) for cognitive impairment.
The magnitude of the effects ACEs can have on well-being is reinforced by epidemiologic data surrounding ACEs. According to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 64% of US adults report at least one ACE and 17% experienced at least four ACEs. Risk factors for ACEs include being female, American Indian or Alaska Native, or unemployed.
How do we reduce the impact of ACEs? Prevention is key. The CDC estimates that nearly 2 million cases of adult heart disease and more than 20 million cases of adult depression could be avoided if ACEs were eliminated.
But what is the best means to pragmatically reduce ACEs in our current practice models? How do we discover a history of ACEs in patients, and what are the best practices in managing persons with a positive history? We will cover these critical subjects in a future article, but for now, please provide your own comments and pearls regarding the prevention and management of ACEs.
Dr. Vega, health sciences clinical professor, family medicine, University of California, Irvine, disclosed ties with GlaxoSmithKline and Johnson and Johnson. Ms. Hurtado, MD candidate, University of California, Irvine School of Medicine, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This case is a little out of the ordinary, but we would love to find out how readers would handle it.
Diana is a 51-year-old woman with a history of depression, obesity, hypertension, type 2 diabetes, and coronary artery disease. She has come in for a routine visit for her chronic illnesses. She seems very distant and has a flat affect during the initial interview. When you ask about any recent stressful events, she begins crying and explains that her daughter was just deported, leaving behind a child and boyfriend.
Their country of origin suffers from chronic instability and violence. Diana’s father was murdered there, and Diana was the victim of sexual assault. “I escaped when I was 18, and I tried to never look back. Until now.” Diana is very worried about her daughter’s return to that country. “I don’t want her to have to endure what I have endured.”
You spend some time discussing the patient’s mental health burden and identify a counselor and online resources that might help. You wonder if Diana’s adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) might have contributed to some of her physical illnesses.
ACEs and Adult Health
One of the most pronounced and straightforward links is that between ACEs and depression. In the Southern Community Cohort Study of more than 38,200 US adults, the highest odds ratio between ACEs and chronic disease was for depression. Persons who reported more than three ACEs had about a twofold increase in the risk for depression compared with persons without ACEs. There was a monotonic increase in the risk for depression and other chronic illnesses as the burden of ACEs increased.
In another study from the United Kingdom, each additional ACE was associated with a significant 11% increase in the risk for incident diabetes during adulthood. Researchers found that both depression symptoms and cardiometabolic dysfunction mediated the effects of ACEs in promoting higher rates of diabetes.
Depression and diabetes are significant risk factors for coronary artery disease, so it is not surprising that ACEs are also associated with a higher risk for coronary events. A review by Godoy and colleagues described how ACEs promote neuroendocrine, autonomic, and inflammatory dysfunction, which in turn leads to higher rates of traditional cardiovascular risk factors such as diabetes and obesity. Ultimately, the presence of four or more ACEs is associated with more than a twofold higher risk for cardiovascular disease compared with no ACEs.
Many of the pathologic processes that promote cardiovascular disease also increase the risk for dementia. Could the reach of ACEs span decades to promote a higher risk for dementia among older adults? A study by Yuan and colleagues of 7222 Chinese adults suggests that the answer is yes. This study divided the cohort into persons with a history of no ACEs, household dysfunction during childhood, or mistreatment during childhood. Child mistreatment was associated with higher rates of diabetes, depression, and cardiovascular disease, as well as an odds ratio of 1.37 (95% CI, 1.12 to 1.68) for cognitive impairment.
The magnitude of the effects ACEs can have on well-being is reinforced by epidemiologic data surrounding ACEs. According to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 64% of US adults report at least one ACE and 17% experienced at least four ACEs. Risk factors for ACEs include being female, American Indian or Alaska Native, or unemployed.
How do we reduce the impact of ACEs? Prevention is key. The CDC estimates that nearly 2 million cases of adult heart disease and more than 20 million cases of adult depression could be avoided if ACEs were eliminated.
But what is the best means to pragmatically reduce ACEs in our current practice models? How do we discover a history of ACEs in patients, and what are the best practices in managing persons with a positive history? We will cover these critical subjects in a future article, but for now, please provide your own comments and pearls regarding the prevention and management of ACEs.
Dr. Vega, health sciences clinical professor, family medicine, University of California, Irvine, disclosed ties with GlaxoSmithKline and Johnson and Johnson. Ms. Hurtado, MD candidate, University of California, Irvine School of Medicine, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This case is a little out of the ordinary, but we would love to find out how readers would handle it.
Diana is a 51-year-old woman with a history of depression, obesity, hypertension, type 2 diabetes, and coronary artery disease. She has come in for a routine visit for her chronic illnesses. She seems very distant and has a flat affect during the initial interview. When you ask about any recent stressful events, she begins crying and explains that her daughter was just deported, leaving behind a child and boyfriend.
Their country of origin suffers from chronic instability and violence. Diana’s father was murdered there, and Diana was the victim of sexual assault. “I escaped when I was 18, and I tried to never look back. Until now.” Diana is very worried about her daughter’s return to that country. “I don’t want her to have to endure what I have endured.”
You spend some time discussing the patient’s mental health burden and identify a counselor and online resources that might help. You wonder if Diana’s adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) might have contributed to some of her physical illnesses.
ACEs and Adult Health
One of the most pronounced and straightforward links is that between ACEs and depression. In the Southern Community Cohort Study of more than 38,200 US adults, the highest odds ratio between ACEs and chronic disease was for depression. Persons who reported more than three ACEs had about a twofold increase in the risk for depression compared with persons without ACEs. There was a monotonic increase in the risk for depression and other chronic illnesses as the burden of ACEs increased.
In another study from the United Kingdom, each additional ACE was associated with a significant 11% increase in the risk for incident diabetes during adulthood. Researchers found that both depression symptoms and cardiometabolic dysfunction mediated the effects of ACEs in promoting higher rates of diabetes.
Depression and diabetes are significant risk factors for coronary artery disease, so it is not surprising that ACEs are also associated with a higher risk for coronary events. A review by Godoy and colleagues described how ACEs promote neuroendocrine, autonomic, and inflammatory dysfunction, which in turn leads to higher rates of traditional cardiovascular risk factors such as diabetes and obesity. Ultimately, the presence of four or more ACEs is associated with more than a twofold higher risk for cardiovascular disease compared with no ACEs.
Many of the pathologic processes that promote cardiovascular disease also increase the risk for dementia. Could the reach of ACEs span decades to promote a higher risk for dementia among older adults? A study by Yuan and colleagues of 7222 Chinese adults suggests that the answer is yes. This study divided the cohort into persons with a history of no ACEs, household dysfunction during childhood, or mistreatment during childhood. Child mistreatment was associated with higher rates of diabetes, depression, and cardiovascular disease, as well as an odds ratio of 1.37 (95% CI, 1.12 to 1.68) for cognitive impairment.
The magnitude of the effects ACEs can have on well-being is reinforced by epidemiologic data surrounding ACEs. According to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 64% of US adults report at least one ACE and 17% experienced at least four ACEs. Risk factors for ACEs include being female, American Indian or Alaska Native, or unemployed.
How do we reduce the impact of ACEs? Prevention is key. The CDC estimates that nearly 2 million cases of adult heart disease and more than 20 million cases of adult depression could be avoided if ACEs were eliminated.
But what is the best means to pragmatically reduce ACEs in our current practice models? How do we discover a history of ACEs in patients, and what are the best practices in managing persons with a positive history? We will cover these critical subjects in a future article, but for now, please provide your own comments and pearls regarding the prevention and management of ACEs.
Dr. Vega, health sciences clinical professor, family medicine, University of California, Irvine, disclosed ties with GlaxoSmithKline and Johnson and Johnson. Ms. Hurtado, MD candidate, University of California, Irvine School of Medicine, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
A Banned Chemical That Is Still Causing Cancer
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
These types of stories usually end with a call for regulation — to ban said chemical or substance, or to regulate it — but in this case, that has already happened. This new carcinogen I’m telling you about is actually an old chemical. And it has not been manufactured or legally imported in the US since 2013.
So, why bother? Because in this case, the chemical — or, really, a group of chemicals called polybrominated diphenyl ethers (PBDEs) — are still around: in our soil, in our food, and in our blood.
PBDEs are a group of compounds that confer flame-retardant properties to plastics, and they were used extensively in the latter part of the 20th century in electronic enclosures, business equipment, and foam cushioning in upholstery.
But there was a problem. They don’t chemically bond to plastics; they are just sort of mixed in, which means they can leach out. They are hydrophobic, meaning they don’t get washed out of soil, and, when ingested or inhaled by humans, they dissolve in our fat stores, making it difficult for our normal excretory systems to excrete them.
PBDEs biomagnify. Small animals can take them up from contaminated soil or water, and those animals are eaten by larger animals, which accumulate higher concentrations of the chemicals. This bioaccumulation increases as you move up the food web until you get to an apex predator — like you and me.
This is true of lots of chemicals, of course. The concern arises when these chemicals are toxic. To date, the toxicity data for PBDEs were pretty limited. There were some animal studies where rats were exposed to extremely high doses and they developed liver lesions — but I am always very wary of extrapolating high-dose rat toxicity studies to humans. There was also some suggestion that the chemicals could be endocrine disruptors, affecting breast and thyroid tissue.
What about cancer? In 2016, the International Agency for Research on Cancer concluded there was “inadequate evidence in humans for the carcinogencity of” PBDEs.
In the same report, though, they suggested PBDEs are “probably carcinogenic to humans” based on mechanistic studies.
In other words, we can’t prove they’re cancerous — but come on, they probably are.
Finally, we have some evidence that really pushes us toward the carcinogenic conclusion, in the form of this study, appearing in JAMA Network Open. It’s a nice bit of epidemiology leveraging the population-based National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey (NHANES).
Researchers measured PBDE levels in blood samples from 1100 people enrolled in NHANES in 2003 and 2004 and linked them to death records collected over the next 20 years or so.
The first thing to note is that the researchers were able to measure PBDEs in the blood samples. They were in there. They were detectable. And they were variable. Dividing the 1100 participants into low, medium, and high PBDE tertiles, you can see a nearly 10-fold difference across the population.
Importantly, not many baseline variables correlated with PBDE levels. People in the highest group were a bit younger but had a fairly similar sex distribution, race, ethnicity, education, income, physical activity, smoking status, and body mass index.
This is not a randomized trial, of course — but at least based on these data, exposure levels do seem fairly random, which is what you would expect from an environmental toxin that percolates up through the food chain. They are often somewhat indiscriminate.
This similarity in baseline characteristics between people with low or high blood levels of PBDE also allows us to make some stronger inferences about the observed outcomes. Let’s take a look at them.
After adjustment for baseline factors, individuals in the highest PBDE group had a 43% higher rate of death from any cause over the follow-up period. This was not enough to achieve statistical significance, but it was close.
But the key finding is deaths due to cancer. After adjustment, cancer deaths occurred four times as frequently among those in the high PBDE group, and that is a statistically significant difference.
To be fair, cancer deaths were rare in this cohort. The vast majority of people did not die of anything during the follow-up period regardless of PBDE level. But the data are strongly suggestive of the carcinogenicity of these chemicals.
I should also point out that the researchers are linking the PBDE level at a single time point to all these future events. If PBDE levels remain relatively stable within an individual over time, that’s fine, but if they tend to vary with intake of different foods for example, this would not be captured and would actually lead to an underestimation of the cancer risk.
The researchers also didn’t have granular enough data to determine the type of cancer, but they do show that rates are similar between men and women, which might point away from the more sex-specific cancer etiologies. Clearly, some more work is needed.
Of course, I started this piece by telling you that these chemicals are already pretty much banned in the United States. What are we supposed to do about these findings? Studies have examined the primary ongoing sources of PBDE in our environment and it seems like most of our exposure will be coming from the food we eat due to that biomagnification thing: high-fat fish, meat and dairy products, and fish oil supplements. It may be worth some investigation into the relative adulteration of these products with this new old carcinogen.
Dr. F. Perry Wilson is associate professor of medicine and public health and director of the Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
These types of stories usually end with a call for regulation — to ban said chemical or substance, or to regulate it — but in this case, that has already happened. This new carcinogen I’m telling you about is actually an old chemical. And it has not been manufactured or legally imported in the US since 2013.
So, why bother? Because in this case, the chemical — or, really, a group of chemicals called polybrominated diphenyl ethers (PBDEs) — are still around: in our soil, in our food, and in our blood.
PBDEs are a group of compounds that confer flame-retardant properties to plastics, and they were used extensively in the latter part of the 20th century in electronic enclosures, business equipment, and foam cushioning in upholstery.
But there was a problem. They don’t chemically bond to plastics; they are just sort of mixed in, which means they can leach out. They are hydrophobic, meaning they don’t get washed out of soil, and, when ingested or inhaled by humans, they dissolve in our fat stores, making it difficult for our normal excretory systems to excrete them.
PBDEs biomagnify. Small animals can take them up from contaminated soil or water, and those animals are eaten by larger animals, which accumulate higher concentrations of the chemicals. This bioaccumulation increases as you move up the food web until you get to an apex predator — like you and me.
This is true of lots of chemicals, of course. The concern arises when these chemicals are toxic. To date, the toxicity data for PBDEs were pretty limited. There were some animal studies where rats were exposed to extremely high doses and they developed liver lesions — but I am always very wary of extrapolating high-dose rat toxicity studies to humans. There was also some suggestion that the chemicals could be endocrine disruptors, affecting breast and thyroid tissue.
What about cancer? In 2016, the International Agency for Research on Cancer concluded there was “inadequate evidence in humans for the carcinogencity of” PBDEs.
In the same report, though, they suggested PBDEs are “probably carcinogenic to humans” based on mechanistic studies.
In other words, we can’t prove they’re cancerous — but come on, they probably are.
Finally, we have some evidence that really pushes us toward the carcinogenic conclusion, in the form of this study, appearing in JAMA Network Open. It’s a nice bit of epidemiology leveraging the population-based National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey (NHANES).
Researchers measured PBDE levels in blood samples from 1100 people enrolled in NHANES in 2003 and 2004 and linked them to death records collected over the next 20 years or so.
The first thing to note is that the researchers were able to measure PBDEs in the blood samples. They were in there. They were detectable. And they were variable. Dividing the 1100 participants into low, medium, and high PBDE tertiles, you can see a nearly 10-fold difference across the population.
Importantly, not many baseline variables correlated with PBDE levels. People in the highest group were a bit younger but had a fairly similar sex distribution, race, ethnicity, education, income, physical activity, smoking status, and body mass index.
This is not a randomized trial, of course — but at least based on these data, exposure levels do seem fairly random, which is what you would expect from an environmental toxin that percolates up through the food chain. They are often somewhat indiscriminate.
This similarity in baseline characteristics between people with low or high blood levels of PBDE also allows us to make some stronger inferences about the observed outcomes. Let’s take a look at them.
After adjustment for baseline factors, individuals in the highest PBDE group had a 43% higher rate of death from any cause over the follow-up period. This was not enough to achieve statistical significance, but it was close.
But the key finding is deaths due to cancer. After adjustment, cancer deaths occurred four times as frequently among those in the high PBDE group, and that is a statistically significant difference.
To be fair, cancer deaths were rare in this cohort. The vast majority of people did not die of anything during the follow-up period regardless of PBDE level. But the data are strongly suggestive of the carcinogenicity of these chemicals.
I should also point out that the researchers are linking the PBDE level at a single time point to all these future events. If PBDE levels remain relatively stable within an individual over time, that’s fine, but if they tend to vary with intake of different foods for example, this would not be captured and would actually lead to an underestimation of the cancer risk.
The researchers also didn’t have granular enough data to determine the type of cancer, but they do show that rates are similar between men and women, which might point away from the more sex-specific cancer etiologies. Clearly, some more work is needed.
Of course, I started this piece by telling you that these chemicals are already pretty much banned in the United States. What are we supposed to do about these findings? Studies have examined the primary ongoing sources of PBDE in our environment and it seems like most of our exposure will be coming from the food we eat due to that biomagnification thing: high-fat fish, meat and dairy products, and fish oil supplements. It may be worth some investigation into the relative adulteration of these products with this new old carcinogen.
Dr. F. Perry Wilson is associate professor of medicine and public health and director of the Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
These types of stories usually end with a call for regulation — to ban said chemical or substance, or to regulate it — but in this case, that has already happened. This new carcinogen I’m telling you about is actually an old chemical. And it has not been manufactured or legally imported in the US since 2013.
So, why bother? Because in this case, the chemical — or, really, a group of chemicals called polybrominated diphenyl ethers (PBDEs) — are still around: in our soil, in our food, and in our blood.
PBDEs are a group of compounds that confer flame-retardant properties to plastics, and they were used extensively in the latter part of the 20th century in electronic enclosures, business equipment, and foam cushioning in upholstery.
But there was a problem. They don’t chemically bond to plastics; they are just sort of mixed in, which means they can leach out. They are hydrophobic, meaning they don’t get washed out of soil, and, when ingested or inhaled by humans, they dissolve in our fat stores, making it difficult for our normal excretory systems to excrete them.
PBDEs biomagnify. Small animals can take them up from contaminated soil or water, and those animals are eaten by larger animals, which accumulate higher concentrations of the chemicals. This bioaccumulation increases as you move up the food web until you get to an apex predator — like you and me.
This is true of lots of chemicals, of course. The concern arises when these chemicals are toxic. To date, the toxicity data for PBDEs were pretty limited. There were some animal studies where rats were exposed to extremely high doses and they developed liver lesions — but I am always very wary of extrapolating high-dose rat toxicity studies to humans. There was also some suggestion that the chemicals could be endocrine disruptors, affecting breast and thyroid tissue.
What about cancer? In 2016, the International Agency for Research on Cancer concluded there was “inadequate evidence in humans for the carcinogencity of” PBDEs.
In the same report, though, they suggested PBDEs are “probably carcinogenic to humans” based on mechanistic studies.
In other words, we can’t prove they’re cancerous — but come on, they probably are.
Finally, we have some evidence that really pushes us toward the carcinogenic conclusion, in the form of this study, appearing in JAMA Network Open. It’s a nice bit of epidemiology leveraging the population-based National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey (NHANES).
Researchers measured PBDE levels in blood samples from 1100 people enrolled in NHANES in 2003 and 2004 and linked them to death records collected over the next 20 years or so.
The first thing to note is that the researchers were able to measure PBDEs in the blood samples. They were in there. They were detectable. And they were variable. Dividing the 1100 participants into low, medium, and high PBDE tertiles, you can see a nearly 10-fold difference across the population.
Importantly, not many baseline variables correlated with PBDE levels. People in the highest group were a bit younger but had a fairly similar sex distribution, race, ethnicity, education, income, physical activity, smoking status, and body mass index.
This is not a randomized trial, of course — but at least based on these data, exposure levels do seem fairly random, which is what you would expect from an environmental toxin that percolates up through the food chain. They are often somewhat indiscriminate.
This similarity in baseline characteristics between people with low or high blood levels of PBDE also allows us to make some stronger inferences about the observed outcomes. Let’s take a look at them.
After adjustment for baseline factors, individuals in the highest PBDE group had a 43% higher rate of death from any cause over the follow-up period. This was not enough to achieve statistical significance, but it was close.
But the key finding is deaths due to cancer. After adjustment, cancer deaths occurred four times as frequently among those in the high PBDE group, and that is a statistically significant difference.
To be fair, cancer deaths were rare in this cohort. The vast majority of people did not die of anything during the follow-up period regardless of PBDE level. But the data are strongly suggestive of the carcinogenicity of these chemicals.
I should also point out that the researchers are linking the PBDE level at a single time point to all these future events. If PBDE levels remain relatively stable within an individual over time, that’s fine, but if they tend to vary with intake of different foods for example, this would not be captured and would actually lead to an underestimation of the cancer risk.
The researchers also didn’t have granular enough data to determine the type of cancer, but they do show that rates are similar between men and women, which might point away from the more sex-specific cancer etiologies. Clearly, some more work is needed.
Of course, I started this piece by telling you that these chemicals are already pretty much banned in the United States. What are we supposed to do about these findings? Studies have examined the primary ongoing sources of PBDE in our environment and it seems like most of our exposure will be coming from the food we eat due to that biomagnification thing: high-fat fish, meat and dairy products, and fish oil supplements. It may be worth some investigation into the relative adulteration of these products with this new old carcinogen.
Dr. F. Perry Wilson is associate professor of medicine and public health and director of the Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
What We’ve Learned About Remote Learning
I would have preferred to start this Letter reporting to you that the pandemic is fading out of sight in our rear view mirror. However, I think it is more accurate to say the pandemic is sitting in that blind spot off our passenger side rear fender. Unless you’re like one of those cars with “blind spot detection” blinking a warning, you probably aren’t giving the pandemic much thought. However, three journalists at The New York Times have taken this lull in the pandemic’s newsworthiness to consider the consequences of school closure and remote learning.
From what you may have read and heard, and possibly experienced firsthand, you have a sense that keeping children out of school has been awash in negatives. These journalists looked at all the data they could find and their article is replete with graphs and references. I will just summarize some of what they discovered.
“While poverty and other factors played a role, remote learning was a key driver in academic declines ...” They found there was a direct relationship between the length of school closure and the severity of academic skill loss. The journalists noted that “some time in school was better than no time.” And sadly, “most students have not caught up.”
Poverty played a significant role, with students in economically challenged communities experiencing steeper losses in academics. The reporters quoted Stanford Professor Sean F. Reardon, EdD, who has said “A community’s poverty rate and length of school closures had a ‘roughly equal’ effect.” Poorer school districts tended to continue remote learning longer than those in more well off communities.
At the very beginning of the pandemic, when we were floating in a sea of unknowns, the decision to close schools and take advantage of the new technology that made remote learning possible sounded like the best and maybe only option. However, looking back, Dr. Sean O’Leary, who helped craft AAP guidelines, admits “we probably kept schools closed longer than we should have.”
Early signs that children were not as likely as adults to get sick, and that students posed little threat to others in the school environment, were not taken seriously enough. Too much time and energy was wasted in deep cleaning even after it was clear the virus was airborne. Opening windows that had been painted shut would have been a much better investment.
As it became more apparent that school closures were not having the deterrent effect we had hoped for, there were still communities that resisted. The Times’ reporters noted that teachers’ unions and Democratic cities tended to be more cautious about reopening. And clearly there was political flavor to how communities responded. Masking is probably one of the best examples where emotions and politics colored our responses.
Are there things we could have done differently? One can certainly understand why teachers might have been cautious about returning to in-school learning. With more than a quarter of teachers in this country being older than 50 (16% over 55) and nearly 80% of elementary and middle school teachers self-reporting that they are obese or overweight, educators represent a group that we know now is more vulnerable to complications from COVID. In retrospect, had we understood more about the virus and the downsides of remote learning, the government could have offered paid leave to teachers who felt vulnerable. Then, by expediting the transition of the younger, less vulnerable college students in their final years of training into the workforce earlier could have kept schools open until we were up to speed with vaccines and treatment. But the water has spilled over the dam. We can hope that we as a nation have learned that making frequent evaluations of our strategies and being flexible enough to make changes will help in future pandemics. Unfortunately, those RNA viruses are fast mutators and clever adapters. Strategies we thought were working the first time may not succeed with new variants.
We have now learned that, in general, remote learning was a bust. My grandkids knew it at the time. It’s not just the learning piece. It’s about the social contact with peers that can provide comfort and support when the adults around at home may be anxious and depressed. School is a place you can be physically active away from 24/7 television at home. Adapting to going to school can be difficult for some young children in the beginning because of separation anxiety, but for the vast majority of children doing the school thing is a habit that is quickly rewarded and reinforced daily.
Children learn in school because they are rubbing elbows with other kids who are learning. While some peers may be distracting, the data suggest the distractions of home are far more of a problem. Most children I know were eager to get back in school because that’s where their friends were. But, getting back in the habit of going to school can be difficult for some, especially those who have been less successful in the past. Not surprisingly, the longer the hiatus the more difficult the reentry becomes.
The big lesson we mustn’t forget is that being in school is far more valuable than we ever imagined. And, when we are considering our options in future pandemics and natural disasters, we should be giving much more weight to in-school learning than we have in the past.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
I would have preferred to start this Letter reporting to you that the pandemic is fading out of sight in our rear view mirror. However, I think it is more accurate to say the pandemic is sitting in that blind spot off our passenger side rear fender. Unless you’re like one of those cars with “blind spot detection” blinking a warning, you probably aren’t giving the pandemic much thought. However, three journalists at The New York Times have taken this lull in the pandemic’s newsworthiness to consider the consequences of school closure and remote learning.
From what you may have read and heard, and possibly experienced firsthand, you have a sense that keeping children out of school has been awash in negatives. These journalists looked at all the data they could find and their article is replete with graphs and references. I will just summarize some of what they discovered.
“While poverty and other factors played a role, remote learning was a key driver in academic declines ...” They found there was a direct relationship between the length of school closure and the severity of academic skill loss. The journalists noted that “some time in school was better than no time.” And sadly, “most students have not caught up.”
Poverty played a significant role, with students in economically challenged communities experiencing steeper losses in academics. The reporters quoted Stanford Professor Sean F. Reardon, EdD, who has said “A community’s poverty rate and length of school closures had a ‘roughly equal’ effect.” Poorer school districts tended to continue remote learning longer than those in more well off communities.
At the very beginning of the pandemic, when we were floating in a sea of unknowns, the decision to close schools and take advantage of the new technology that made remote learning possible sounded like the best and maybe only option. However, looking back, Dr. Sean O’Leary, who helped craft AAP guidelines, admits “we probably kept schools closed longer than we should have.”
Early signs that children were not as likely as adults to get sick, and that students posed little threat to others in the school environment, were not taken seriously enough. Too much time and energy was wasted in deep cleaning even after it was clear the virus was airborne. Opening windows that had been painted shut would have been a much better investment.
As it became more apparent that school closures were not having the deterrent effect we had hoped for, there were still communities that resisted. The Times’ reporters noted that teachers’ unions and Democratic cities tended to be more cautious about reopening. And clearly there was political flavor to how communities responded. Masking is probably one of the best examples where emotions and politics colored our responses.
Are there things we could have done differently? One can certainly understand why teachers might have been cautious about returning to in-school learning. With more than a quarter of teachers in this country being older than 50 (16% over 55) and nearly 80% of elementary and middle school teachers self-reporting that they are obese or overweight, educators represent a group that we know now is more vulnerable to complications from COVID. In retrospect, had we understood more about the virus and the downsides of remote learning, the government could have offered paid leave to teachers who felt vulnerable. Then, by expediting the transition of the younger, less vulnerable college students in their final years of training into the workforce earlier could have kept schools open until we were up to speed with vaccines and treatment. But the water has spilled over the dam. We can hope that we as a nation have learned that making frequent evaluations of our strategies and being flexible enough to make changes will help in future pandemics. Unfortunately, those RNA viruses are fast mutators and clever adapters. Strategies we thought were working the first time may not succeed with new variants.
We have now learned that, in general, remote learning was a bust. My grandkids knew it at the time. It’s not just the learning piece. It’s about the social contact with peers that can provide comfort and support when the adults around at home may be anxious and depressed. School is a place you can be physically active away from 24/7 television at home. Adapting to going to school can be difficult for some young children in the beginning because of separation anxiety, but for the vast majority of children doing the school thing is a habit that is quickly rewarded and reinforced daily.
Children learn in school because they are rubbing elbows with other kids who are learning. While some peers may be distracting, the data suggest the distractions of home are far more of a problem. Most children I know were eager to get back in school because that’s where their friends were. But, getting back in the habit of going to school can be difficult for some, especially those who have been less successful in the past. Not surprisingly, the longer the hiatus the more difficult the reentry becomes.
The big lesson we mustn’t forget is that being in school is far more valuable than we ever imagined. And, when we are considering our options in future pandemics and natural disasters, we should be giving much more weight to in-school learning than we have in the past.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
I would have preferred to start this Letter reporting to you that the pandemic is fading out of sight in our rear view mirror. However, I think it is more accurate to say the pandemic is sitting in that blind spot off our passenger side rear fender. Unless you’re like one of those cars with “blind spot detection” blinking a warning, you probably aren’t giving the pandemic much thought. However, three journalists at The New York Times have taken this lull in the pandemic’s newsworthiness to consider the consequences of school closure and remote learning.
From what you may have read and heard, and possibly experienced firsthand, you have a sense that keeping children out of school has been awash in negatives. These journalists looked at all the data they could find and their article is replete with graphs and references. I will just summarize some of what they discovered.
“While poverty and other factors played a role, remote learning was a key driver in academic declines ...” They found there was a direct relationship between the length of school closure and the severity of academic skill loss. The journalists noted that “some time in school was better than no time.” And sadly, “most students have not caught up.”
Poverty played a significant role, with students in economically challenged communities experiencing steeper losses in academics. The reporters quoted Stanford Professor Sean F. Reardon, EdD, who has said “A community’s poverty rate and length of school closures had a ‘roughly equal’ effect.” Poorer school districts tended to continue remote learning longer than those in more well off communities.
At the very beginning of the pandemic, when we were floating in a sea of unknowns, the decision to close schools and take advantage of the new technology that made remote learning possible sounded like the best and maybe only option. However, looking back, Dr. Sean O’Leary, who helped craft AAP guidelines, admits “we probably kept schools closed longer than we should have.”
Early signs that children were not as likely as adults to get sick, and that students posed little threat to others in the school environment, were not taken seriously enough. Too much time and energy was wasted in deep cleaning even after it was clear the virus was airborne. Opening windows that had been painted shut would have been a much better investment.
As it became more apparent that school closures were not having the deterrent effect we had hoped for, there were still communities that resisted. The Times’ reporters noted that teachers’ unions and Democratic cities tended to be more cautious about reopening. And clearly there was political flavor to how communities responded. Masking is probably one of the best examples where emotions and politics colored our responses.
Are there things we could have done differently? One can certainly understand why teachers might have been cautious about returning to in-school learning. With more than a quarter of teachers in this country being older than 50 (16% over 55) and nearly 80% of elementary and middle school teachers self-reporting that they are obese or overweight, educators represent a group that we know now is more vulnerable to complications from COVID. In retrospect, had we understood more about the virus and the downsides of remote learning, the government could have offered paid leave to teachers who felt vulnerable. Then, by expediting the transition of the younger, less vulnerable college students in their final years of training into the workforce earlier could have kept schools open until we were up to speed with vaccines and treatment. But the water has spilled over the dam. We can hope that we as a nation have learned that making frequent evaluations of our strategies and being flexible enough to make changes will help in future pandemics. Unfortunately, those RNA viruses are fast mutators and clever adapters. Strategies we thought were working the first time may not succeed with new variants.
We have now learned that, in general, remote learning was a bust. My grandkids knew it at the time. It’s not just the learning piece. It’s about the social contact with peers that can provide comfort and support when the adults around at home may be anxious and depressed. School is a place you can be physically active away from 24/7 television at home. Adapting to going to school can be difficult for some young children in the beginning because of separation anxiety, but for the vast majority of children doing the school thing is a habit that is quickly rewarded and reinforced daily.
Children learn in school because they are rubbing elbows with other kids who are learning. While some peers may be distracting, the data suggest the distractions of home are far more of a problem. Most children I know were eager to get back in school because that’s where their friends were. But, getting back in the habit of going to school can be difficult for some, especially those who have been less successful in the past. Not surprisingly, the longer the hiatus the more difficult the reentry becomes.
The big lesson we mustn’t forget is that being in school is far more valuable than we ever imagined. And, when we are considering our options in future pandemics and natural disasters, we should be giving much more weight to in-school learning than we have in the past.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].