For Residents

The White Coat Ceremony is an enduring memory from my medical school years. Amidst the tumult of memories of seemingly endless sleepless nights spent in libraries and cramming for clerkship examinations between surgical cases, I recall a sunny spring day in 2016 where I gathered with my classmates, family, and friends in the medical school campus courtyard. There were several short, mostly forgotten speeches after which proud fathers and mothers, partners, or siblings slipped the all-important white coat onto the shoulders of the physicians-to-be. At that moment, I felt the weight of tradition centuries in the making resting on my shoulders. Of course, the pomp of the ceremony might have felt a tad overblown had I known that the whole thing had fewer years under its belt than the movie Die Hard.

That’s right, the first White Coat Ceremony was held 5 years after the release of that Bruce Willis classic. Dr. Arnold Gold, a pediatric neurologist on faculty at Columbia University, conceived the ceremony in 1993, and it spread rapidly to medical schools—and later nursing schools—across the United States.¹ Although the values highlighted by the White Coat Ceremony—humanism and compassion in medicine—are timeless, the ceremony itself is a more modern undertaking. What, then, of the white coat itself? Is it the timeless symbol of doctoring—of medicine—that we all presume it to be? Or is it a symbol of modern marketing, just a trend that caught on? And is it encountering its twilight—as trends often do—in the face of changing fashion and, more fundamentally, in changes to who our physicians are and to their roles in our society?

The Cleanliness of the White Coat

Until the end of the 19th century, physicians in the Western world most frequently dressed in black formal wear. The rationale behind this attire seems to have been twofold. First, society as a whole perceived the physician’s work as a serious and formal matter, and any medical encounter had to reflect the gravity of the occasion. Additionally, physicians’ visits often were a portent of impending demise, as physicians in the era prior to antibiotics and antisepsis frequently had little to offer their patients outside of—at best—anecdotal treatments and—at worst—sheer quackery.² Black may have seemed a respectful choice for patients who likely faced dire outcomes regardless of the treatment afforded.³

With the turn of the century came a new understanding of the concepts of antisepsis and disease transmission. While Joseph Lister first published on the use of antisepsis in 1867, his practices did not become commonplace until the early 1900s.⁴ Around the same time came the Flexner report,⁵ the publication of William Osler’s Principles and Practice of Medicine,⁶ and the establishment of the modern medical residency, all of which contributed to the shift from the patient’s own bedside and to the hospital as the house of medicine, with cleanliness and antisepsis as part of its core principles.⁷ The white coat arose as a symbol of purity and freedom from disease. Throughout the 20th century and into the 21st, it has remained the predominant symbol of cleanliness and professionalism for the medical practitioner.

Patient Preference of Physician Attire

Although the white coat may serve as a professional symbol and is well respected medicine, it also plays an important role in the layperson’s perception of their health care providers.⁸ There is little denying that patients prefer their physicians, almost uniformly, to wear a white coat. A systematic review of physician attire that included 30 studies mainly from North America, Europe, and the United Kingdom found that patient preference for formal attire and white coats is near universal.⁹ Patients routinely rate physicians wearing a white coat as more intelligent and trustworthy and feel more confident in the care they will receive.^10-13 They also freely admit that a physician’s appearance influences their satisfaction with their care.¹⁴ The recent adoption of the fleece, or softshell, jacket has not yet pervaded patients’ perceptions of what is considered appropriate physician attire. A 500-respondent survey found that patients were more likely to rate a model wearing a white coat as more professional and experienced compared to the same model wearing a fleece or softshell jacket or other formal attire sans white coat.¹⁵

Closer examination of the same data, however, reveals results reproduced with startling consistency across several studies, which suggest those of us adopting other attire need not dig those white coats out of the closet just yet. First, while many studies point to patient preference for white coats, this preference is uniformly strongest in older patients, beginning around age 40 years and becoming an entrenched preference in those older than 65 years.^9,14,16-18 On the other hand, younger patient populations display little to no such preference, and some studies indicate that younger patients actually prefer scrubs over formal attire in specific settings such as surgical offices, procedural spaces, or the emergency department.^12,14,19 This suggests that bias in favor of traditional physician garb may be more linked to age demographics and may continue to shift as the overall population ages. Additionally, although patients might profess a strong preference for physician attire in theory, it often does not translate into any impact on the patient’s perception of the physician following a clinic visit. The large systematic review on the topic noted that only 25% of studies that surveyed patients about a clinical visit following the encounter reported that physician attire influenced their satisfaction with that visit, suggesting that attire may be less likely to influence patients in the real-world context of receiving care.⁹ In fact, a prospective study of patient perception of medical staff and interactions found that staff style of dress not only had no bearing on the perception of staff or visit satisfaction but that patients often failed to even accurately recall physician attire when surveyed.²⁰ Another survey study echoed these conclusions, finding that physician attire had no effect on the perception of a proposed treatment plan.²¹

What do we know about patient perception of physician attire in the dermatology setting specifically, where visits can be unique in their tendency to transition from medical to procedural in the span of a 15-minute encounter depending on the patient’s chief concern? A survey study of dermatology patients at the general, surgical, and wound care dermatology clinics of an academic medical center (Miami, Florida) found that professional attire with a white coat was strongly preferred across a litany of scenarios assessing many aspects of dermatologic care.²¹ Similarly, a study of patients visiting a single institution’s dermatology and pediatric dermatology clinics surveyed patients and parents regarding attire prior to an appointment and specifically asked if a white coat should be worn.¹³ Fifty-four percent of the adult patients (n=176) surveyed professed a preference for physicians in white coats, with a stronger preference for white coats reported by those 50 years and older (55%; n=113). Parents or guardians presenting to the pediatric dermatology clinic, on the other hand, favored less formal attire.¹³ A recent, real-world study performed at an outpatient dermatology clinic examined the influence of changing physician attire on a patient’s perceptions of care received during clinic encounters. They found no substantial difference in patient satisfaction scores before and following the adoption of a new clinic uniform that transitioned from formal attire to fitted scrubs.²²

With any study of preference, there is the underlying concern over respondent bias. Many of the studies discussed here have found secondarily that a patient’s implicit bias does not end at the clothes their physician is wearing. The survey study of dermatology patients from the academic medical center in Miami, Florida, found that patients preferred that Black physicians of either sex be garbed in professional attire at all times but generally were more accepting of White physicians in less formal attire.²¹ Adamson et al²³ published a response to the study’s findings urging dermatologists to recognize that a physician’s race and gender influence patients’ perceptions in much the same way that physician attire seems to and encouraged the development of a more diverse dermatologic workforce to help combat this prejudice. The issue of bias is not limited to the specialty of dermatology; the recent survey study by Xun et al¹⁵ found that respondents consistently rated female models garbed in physician attire as less professional than male model counterparts. Additionally, female models wearing white coats were mistakenly identified as medical technicians, physician assistants, or nurses with substantially more frequency than males, despite being clothed in the traditional physician garb. Several other publications on the subject have uncovered implicit bias, though it is rarely, if ever, the principle focus of the study.^10,24,25 As is unfortunately true in many professions, female physicians and physicians from ethnic minorities face barriers to being perceived as fully competent physicians.

Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic

Finally, of course, there is the ever-present question of the effect of the pandemic. Although the exact role of the white coat as a fomite for infection—and especially for the spread of viral illness—remains controversial, the perception nonetheless has helped catalyze the movement to alternatives such as short-sleeved white coats, technical jackets, and more recently, fitted scrubs.^26-29 As with much in this realm, facts seem less important than perceptions; Zahrina et al³⁰ found that when patients were presented with information regarding the risk for microbial contamination associated with white coats, preference for physicians in professional garb plummeted from 72% to only 22%. To date no articles have examined patient perceptions of the white coat in the context of microbial transmission in the age of COVID-19, but future articles on this topic are likely and may serve to further the demise of the white coat.

Final Thoughts

From my vantage point, it seems the white coat will be claimed by the outgoing tide. During this most recent residency interview season, I do not recall a single medical student wearing a short white coat. The closest I came was a quick glimpse of a crumpled white jacket slung over an arm or stuffed in a shoulder bag. Rotating interns and residents from other services on rotation in our department present in softshell or fleece jackets. Fitted scrubs in the newest trendy colors speckle a previously all-white canvas. I, for one, have not donned my own white coat in at least a year, and perhaps it is all for the best. Physician attire is one small aspect of the practice of medicine and likely bears little, if any, relation to the wearer’s qualifications. Our focus should be on building rapport with our patients, providing high-quality care, reducing the risk for nosocomial infection, and developing a health care system that is fair and equitable for patients and health care workers alike, not on who is wearing what. Perhaps the introduction of new physician attire is a small part of the disruption we need to help address persistent gender and racial biases in our field and help shepherd our patients and colleagues to a worldview that is more open and accepting of physicians of diverse backgrounds.

The White Coat Ceremony is an enduring memory from my medical school years. Amidst the tumult of memories of seemingly endless sleepless nights spent in libraries and cramming for clerkship examinations between surgical cases, I recall a sunny spring day in 2016 where I gathered with my classmates, family, and friends in the medical school campus courtyard. There were several short, mostly forgotten speeches after which proud fathers and mothers, partners, or siblings slipped the all-important white coat onto the shoulders of the physicians-to-be. At that moment, I felt the weight of tradition centuries in the making resting on my shoulders. Of course, the pomp of the ceremony might have felt a tad overblown had I known that the whole thing had fewer years under its belt than the movie Die Hard.

That’s right, the first White Coat Ceremony was held 5 years after the release of that Bruce Willis classic. Dr. Arnold Gold, a pediatric neurologist on faculty at Columbia University, conceived the ceremony in 1993, and it spread rapidly to medical schools—and later nursing schools—across the United States.¹ Although the values highlighted by the White Coat Ceremony—humanism and compassion in medicine—are timeless, the ceremony itself is a more modern undertaking. What, then, of the white coat itself? Is it the timeless symbol of doctoring—of medicine—that we all presume it to be? Or is it a symbol of modern marketing, just a trend that caught on? And is it encountering its twilight—as trends often do—in the face of changing fashion and, more fundamentally, in changes to who our physicians are and to their roles in our society?

The Cleanliness of the White Coat

Until the end of the 19th century, physicians in the Western world most frequently dressed in black formal wear. The rationale behind this attire seems to have been twofold. First, society as a whole perceived the physician’s work as a serious and formal matter, and any medical encounter had to reflect the gravity of the occasion. Additionally, physicians’ visits often were a portent of impending demise, as physicians in the era prior to antibiotics and antisepsis frequently had little to offer their patients outside of—at best—anecdotal treatments and—at worst—sheer quackery.² Black may have seemed a respectful choice for patients who likely faced dire outcomes regardless of the treatment afforded.³

With the turn of the century came a new understanding of the concepts of antisepsis and disease transmission. While Joseph Lister first published on the use of antisepsis in 1867, his practices did not become commonplace until the early 1900s.⁴ Around the same time came the Flexner report,⁵ the publication of William Osler’s Principles and Practice of Medicine,⁶ and the establishment of the modern medical residency, all of which contributed to the shift from the patient’s own bedside and to the hospital as the house of medicine, with cleanliness and antisepsis as part of its core principles.⁷ The white coat arose as a symbol of purity and freedom from disease. Throughout the 20th century and into the 21st, it has remained the predominant symbol of cleanliness and professionalism for the medical practitioner.

Patient Preference of Physician Attire

Although the white coat may serve as a professional symbol and is well respected medicine, it also plays an important role in the layperson’s perception of their health care providers.⁸ There is little denying that patients prefer their physicians, almost uniformly, to wear a white coat. A systematic review of physician attire that included 30 studies mainly from North America, Europe, and the United Kingdom found that patient preference for formal attire and white coats is near universal.⁹ Patients routinely rate physicians wearing a white coat as more intelligent and trustworthy and feel more confident in the care they will receive.^10-13 They also freely admit that a physician’s appearance influences their satisfaction with their care.¹⁴ The recent adoption of the fleece, or softshell, jacket has not yet pervaded patients’ perceptions of what is considered appropriate physician attire. A 500-respondent survey found that patients were more likely to rate a model wearing a white coat as more professional and experienced compared to the same model wearing a fleece or softshell jacket or other formal attire sans white coat.¹⁵

Closer examination of the same data, however, reveals results reproduced with startling consistency across several studies, which suggest those of us adopting other attire need not dig those white coats out of the closet just yet. First, while many studies point to patient preference for white coats, this preference is uniformly strongest in older patients, beginning around age 40 years and becoming an entrenched preference in those older than 65 years.^9,14,16-18 On the other hand, younger patient populations display little to no such preference, and some studies indicate that younger patients actually prefer scrubs over formal attire in specific settings such as surgical offices, procedural spaces, or the emergency department.^12,14,19 This suggests that bias in favor of traditional physician garb may be more linked to age demographics and may continue to shift as the overall population ages. Additionally, although patients might profess a strong preference for physician attire in theory, it often does not translate into any impact on the patient’s perception of the physician following a clinic visit. The large systematic review on the topic noted that only 25% of studies that surveyed patients about a clinical visit following the encounter reported that physician attire influenced their satisfaction with that visit, suggesting that attire may be less likely to influence patients in the real-world context of receiving care.⁹ In fact, a prospective study of patient perception of medical staff and interactions found that staff style of dress not only had no bearing on the perception of staff or visit satisfaction but that patients often failed to even accurately recall physician attire when surveyed.²⁰ Another survey study echoed these conclusions, finding that physician attire had no effect on the perception of a proposed treatment plan.²¹

What do we know about patient perception of physician attire in the dermatology setting specifically, where visits can be unique in their tendency to transition from medical to procedural in the span of a 15-minute encounter depending on the patient’s chief concern? A survey study of dermatology patients at the general, surgical, and wound care dermatology clinics of an academic medical center (Miami, Florida) found that professional attire with a white coat was strongly preferred across a litany of scenarios assessing many aspects of dermatologic care.²¹ Similarly, a study of patients visiting a single institution’s dermatology and pediatric dermatology clinics surveyed patients and parents regarding attire prior to an appointment and specifically asked if a white coat should be worn.¹³ Fifty-four percent of the adult patients (n=176) surveyed professed a preference for physicians in white coats, with a stronger preference for white coats reported by those 50 years and older (55%; n=113). Parents or guardians presenting to the pediatric dermatology clinic, on the other hand, favored less formal attire.¹³ A recent, real-world study performed at an outpatient dermatology clinic examined the influence of changing physician attire on a patient’s perceptions of care received during clinic encounters. They found no substantial difference in patient satisfaction scores before and following the adoption of a new clinic uniform that transitioned from formal attire to fitted scrubs.²²

With any study of preference, there is the underlying concern over respondent bias. Many of the studies discussed here have found secondarily that a patient’s implicit bias does not end at the clothes their physician is wearing. The survey study of dermatology patients from the academic medical center in Miami, Florida, found that patients preferred that Black physicians of either sex be garbed in professional attire at all times but generally were more accepting of White physicians in less formal attire.²¹ Adamson et al²³ published a response to the study’s findings urging dermatologists to recognize that a physician’s race and gender influence patients’ perceptions in much the same way that physician attire seems to and encouraged the development of a more diverse dermatologic workforce to help combat this prejudice. The issue of bias is not limited to the specialty of dermatology; the recent survey study by Xun et al¹⁵ found that respondents consistently rated female models garbed in physician attire as less professional than male model counterparts. Additionally, female models wearing white coats were mistakenly identified as medical technicians, physician assistants, or nurses with substantially more frequency than males, despite being clothed in the traditional physician garb. Several other publications on the subject have uncovered implicit bias, though it is rarely, if ever, the principle focus of the study.^10,24,25 As is unfortunately true in many professions, female physicians and physicians from ethnic minorities face barriers to being perceived as fully competent physicians.

Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic

Finally, of course, there is the ever-present question of the effect of the pandemic. Although the exact role of the white coat as a fomite for infection—and especially for the spread of viral illness—remains controversial, the perception nonetheless has helped catalyze the movement to alternatives such as short-sleeved white coats, technical jackets, and more recently, fitted scrubs.^26-29 As with much in this realm, facts seem less important than perceptions; Zahrina et al³⁰ found that when patients were presented with information regarding the risk for microbial contamination associated with white coats, preference for physicians in professional garb plummeted from 72% to only 22%. To date no articles have examined patient perceptions of the white coat in the context of microbial transmission in the age of COVID-19, but future articles on this topic are likely and may serve to further the demise of the white coat.

Final Thoughts

From my vantage point, it seems the white coat will be claimed by the outgoing tide. During this most recent residency interview season, I do not recall a single medical student wearing a short white coat. The closest I came was a quick glimpse of a crumpled white jacket slung over an arm or stuffed in a shoulder bag. Rotating interns and residents from other services on rotation in our department present in softshell or fleece jackets. Fitted scrubs in the newest trendy colors speckle a previously all-white canvas. I, for one, have not donned my own white coat in at least a year, and perhaps it is all for the best. Physician attire is one small aspect of the practice of medicine and likely bears little, if any, relation to the wearer’s qualifications. Our focus should be on building rapport with our patients, providing high-quality care, reducing the risk for nosocomial infection, and developing a health care system that is fair and equitable for patients and health care workers alike, not on who is wearing what. Perhaps the introduction of new physician attire is a small part of the disruption we need to help address persistent gender and racial biases in our field and help shepherd our patients and colleagues to a worldview that is more open and accepting of physicians of diverse backgrounds.

The White Coat Ceremony is an enduring memory from my medical school years. Amidst the tumult of memories of seemingly endless sleepless nights spent in libraries and cramming for clerkship examinations between surgical cases, I recall a sunny spring day in 2016 where I gathered with my classmates, family, and friends in the medical school campus courtyard. There were several short, mostly forgotten speeches after which proud fathers and mothers, partners, or siblings slipped the all-important white coat onto the shoulders of the physicians-to-be. At that moment, I felt the weight of tradition centuries in the making resting on my shoulders. Of course, the pomp of the ceremony might have felt a tad overblown had I known that the whole thing had fewer years under its belt than the movie Die Hard.

That’s right, the first White Coat Ceremony was held 5 years after the release of that Bruce Willis classic. Dr. Arnold Gold, a pediatric neurologist on faculty at Columbia University, conceived the ceremony in 1993, and it spread rapidly to medical schools—and later nursing schools—across the United States.¹ Although the values highlighted by the White Coat Ceremony—humanism and compassion in medicine—are timeless, the ceremony itself is a more modern undertaking. What, then, of the white coat itself? Is it the timeless symbol of doctoring—of medicine—that we all presume it to be? Or is it a symbol of modern marketing, just a trend that caught on? And is it encountering its twilight—as trends often do—in the face of changing fashion and, more fundamentally, in changes to who our physicians are and to their roles in our society?

The Cleanliness of the White Coat

Until the end of the 19th century, physicians in the Western world most frequently dressed in black formal wear. The rationale behind this attire seems to have been twofold. First, society as a whole perceived the physician’s work as a serious and formal matter, and any medical encounter had to reflect the gravity of the occasion. Additionally, physicians’ visits often were a portent of impending demise, as physicians in the era prior to antibiotics and antisepsis frequently had little to offer their patients outside of—at best—anecdotal treatments and—at worst—sheer quackery.² Black may have seemed a respectful choice for patients who likely faced dire outcomes regardless of the treatment afforded.³

With the turn of the century came a new understanding of the concepts of antisepsis and disease transmission. While Joseph Lister first published on the use of antisepsis in 1867, his practices did not become commonplace until the early 1900s.⁴ Around the same time came the Flexner report,⁵ the publication of William Osler’s Principles and Practice of Medicine,⁶ and the establishment of the modern medical residency, all of which contributed to the shift from the patient’s own bedside and to the hospital as the house of medicine, with cleanliness and antisepsis as part of its core principles.⁷ The white coat arose as a symbol of purity and freedom from disease. Throughout the 20th century and into the 21st, it has remained the predominant symbol of cleanliness and professionalism for the medical practitioner.

Patient Preference of Physician Attire

Although the white coat may serve as a professional symbol and is well respected medicine, it also plays an important role in the layperson’s perception of their health care providers.⁸ There is little denying that patients prefer their physicians, almost uniformly, to wear a white coat. A systematic review of physician attire that included 30 studies mainly from North America, Europe, and the United Kingdom found that patient preference for formal attire and white coats is near universal.⁹ Patients routinely rate physicians wearing a white coat as more intelligent and trustworthy and feel more confident in the care they will receive.^10-13 They also freely admit that a physician’s appearance influences their satisfaction with their care.¹⁴ The recent adoption of the fleece, or softshell, jacket has not yet pervaded patients’ perceptions of what is considered appropriate physician attire. A 500-respondent survey found that patients were more likely to rate a model wearing a white coat as more professional and experienced compared to the same model wearing a fleece or softshell jacket or other formal attire sans white coat.¹⁵

Closer examination of the same data, however, reveals results reproduced with startling consistency across several studies, which suggest those of us adopting other attire need not dig those white coats out of the closet just yet. First, while many studies point to patient preference for white coats, this preference is uniformly strongest in older patients, beginning around age 40 years and becoming an entrenched preference in those older than 65 years.^9,14,16-18 On the other hand, younger patient populations display little to no such preference, and some studies indicate that younger patients actually prefer scrubs over formal attire in specific settings such as surgical offices, procedural spaces, or the emergency department.^12,14,19 This suggests that bias in favor of traditional physician garb may be more linked to age demographics and may continue to shift as the overall population ages. Additionally, although patients might profess a strong preference for physician attire in theory, it often does not translate into any impact on the patient’s perception of the physician following a clinic visit. The large systematic review on the topic noted that only 25% of studies that surveyed patients about a clinical visit following the encounter reported that physician attire influenced their satisfaction with that visit, suggesting that attire may be less likely to influence patients in the real-world context of receiving care.⁹ In fact, a prospective study of patient perception of medical staff and interactions found that staff style of dress not only had no bearing on the perception of staff or visit satisfaction but that patients often failed to even accurately recall physician attire when surveyed.²⁰ Another survey study echoed these conclusions, finding that physician attire had no effect on the perception of a proposed treatment plan.²¹

What do we know about patient perception of physician attire in the dermatology setting specifically, where visits can be unique in their tendency to transition from medical to procedural in the span of a 15-minute encounter depending on the patient’s chief concern? A survey study of dermatology patients at the general, surgical, and wound care dermatology clinics of an academic medical center (Miami, Florida) found that professional attire with a white coat was strongly preferred across a litany of scenarios assessing many aspects of dermatologic care.²¹ Similarly, a study of patients visiting a single institution’s dermatology and pediatric dermatology clinics surveyed patients and parents regarding attire prior to an appointment and specifically asked if a white coat should be worn.¹³ Fifty-four percent of the adult patients (n=176) surveyed professed a preference for physicians in white coats, with a stronger preference for white coats reported by those 50 years and older (55%; n=113). Parents or guardians presenting to the pediatric dermatology clinic, on the other hand, favored less formal attire.¹³ A recent, real-world study performed at an outpatient dermatology clinic examined the influence of changing physician attire on a patient’s perceptions of care received during clinic encounters. They found no substantial difference in patient satisfaction scores before and following the adoption of a new clinic uniform that transitioned from formal attire to fitted scrubs.²²

With any study of preference, there is the underlying concern over respondent bias. Many of the studies discussed here have found secondarily that a patient’s implicit bias does not end at the clothes their physician is wearing. The survey study of dermatology patients from the academic medical center in Miami, Florida, found that patients preferred that Black physicians of either sex be garbed in professional attire at all times but generally were more accepting of White physicians in less formal attire.²¹ Adamson et al²³ published a response to the study’s findings urging dermatologists to recognize that a physician’s race and gender influence patients’ perceptions in much the same way that physician attire seems to and encouraged the development of a more diverse dermatologic workforce to help combat this prejudice. The issue of bias is not limited to the specialty of dermatology; the recent survey study by Xun et al¹⁵ found that respondents consistently rated female models garbed in physician attire as less professional than male model counterparts. Additionally, female models wearing white coats were mistakenly identified as medical technicians, physician assistants, or nurses with substantially more frequency than males, despite being clothed in the traditional physician garb. Several other publications on the subject have uncovered implicit bias, though it is rarely, if ever, the principle focus of the study.^10,24,25 As is unfortunately true in many professions, female physicians and physicians from ethnic minorities face barriers to being perceived as fully competent physicians.

Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic

Finally, of course, there is the ever-present question of the effect of the pandemic. Although the exact role of the white coat as a fomite for infection—and especially for the spread of viral illness—remains controversial, the perception nonetheless has helped catalyze the movement to alternatives such as short-sleeved white coats, technical jackets, and more recently, fitted scrubs.^26-29 As with much in this realm, facts seem less important than perceptions; Zahrina et al³⁰ found that when patients were presented with information regarding the risk for microbial contamination associated with white coats, preference for physicians in professional garb plummeted from 72% to only 22%. To date no articles have examined patient perceptions of the white coat in the context of microbial transmission in the age of COVID-19, but future articles on this topic are likely and may serve to further the demise of the white coat.

Final Thoughts

From my vantage point, it seems the white coat will be claimed by the outgoing tide. During this most recent residency interview season, I do not recall a single medical student wearing a short white coat. The closest I came was a quick glimpse of a crumpled white jacket slung over an arm or stuffed in a shoulder bag. Rotating interns and residents from other services on rotation in our department present in softshell or fleece jackets. Fitted scrubs in the newest trendy colors speckle a previously all-white canvas. I, for one, have not donned my own white coat in at least a year, and perhaps it is all for the best. Physician attire is one small aspect of the practice of medicine and likely bears little, if any, relation to the wearer’s qualifications. Our focus should be on building rapport with our patients, providing high-quality care, reducing the risk for nosocomial infection, and developing a health care system that is fair and equitable for patients and health care workers alike, not on who is wearing what. Perhaps the introduction of new physician attire is a small part of the disruption we need to help address persistent gender and racial biases in our field and help shepherd our patients and colleagues to a worldview that is more open and accepting of physicians of diverse backgrounds.

To the Editor:

Securing a dermatology residency position is extraordinarily competitive. The match rate for US allopathic seniors for dermatology is 84.7%, among the lowest of all medical specialties. Matched dermatology applicants boast a mean US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) Step 1 score of 248, the second highest of all specialties.¹ To gain an edge, applicants are faced with decisions regarding pursuit of dedicated research time and additional professional degrees.

We conducted a cross-sectional study to determine how many dermatology residency applicants pursue additional years of training and how this decision relates to USMLE scores and other metrics. This study was approved by the University of Michigan institutional review board. Using Electronic Residency Application Service applicant data, all applicants to the University of Michigan Medical School (Ann Arbor, Michigan) dermatology residency program for the 2018-2019 application cycle were included.

Analysis of variance was performed to determine differences in mean USMLE Step 1 scores, Step 2 Clinical Knowledge scores, and number of research experiences (eg, presentations, publications) between groups. A 2-tailed z test of independent samples was performed for individual pairwise subgroup analyses.

There were 608 (377 female, 231 male; mean age, 27.9 years) applicants from 199 different medical schools; 550 graduated with an MD degree, 40 with a DO degree, and 18 were international medical graduates (IMGs)(eg, MBBS, MBBCh, BAO, MBChB). One hundred eighty-four applicants (30.2%) pursued either a second professional degree or a dedicated research period lasting at least 12 months. Twenty-eight applicants (4.6%) obtained a master’s degree, 21 (3.5%) obtained a doctorate, and 135 (22.2%) pursued dedicated research.

Of the 40 DO applicants, 1 (2.5%) pursued dedicated research time; 0 (zero) completed a dual degree. None (zero) of the 18 IMGs pursued a dual degree or dedicated research time. When the scores of applicants who pursued additional training and the scores of applicants who did not were compared, neither mean USMLE Step 1 scores nor mean USMLE Step 2 Clinical Knowledge scores were statistically different (P=.31 and P=.44, respectively). Applicants who completed medical school in 4 years had fewer research experiences (mean [SD] experiences, 13.9 [13.2]) than students with a master’s degree (18.5 [8.4]), doctorate (24.5 [17.5]), or dedicated research time (23.9 [14.9])(P<.001).

Utilizing US News & World Report rankings (2019 Best Medical Schools: Research), we determined that 146 applicants (24.0%) attended a top 25 medical school in 2019.² Of those 146 applicants, 77 (52.7%) pursued additional training through dedicated research or a second professional degree. Only 107 of the 462 applicants (23.2%) from medical schools that were not in the top 25 as determined by the US News & World Report pursued additional training (P<.0001)(Figure).

There is sentiment among applicants that a weaker dermatology residency application can be bolstered through a dedicated research year or a second professional degree. Whether this additional training has an impact on an applicant’s chances of matching is unclear and requires further investigation. Our data showed that applicants from the top 25 medical schools were more likely to pursue additional training than graduates at other institutions. These highly ranked academic institutions might encourage students to pursue a dual degree or research fellowship. In addition, year-long research opportunities might be more available through top medical schools; these schools might be more likely to offer dual-degree programs or provide funding to support student research opportunities.

It is important to comment on the potential importance of funding to support research years; the unpaid nature of many research fellowships in dermatology tends to favor applicants from a higher socioeconomic background. In that respect, the pervasive trend of encouraging research years in dermatology might widen already apparent disparities in our field, likely impacting underrepresented minorities disproportionately.³ Importantly, students with an MD degree represent nearly all applicants who completed a dual degree or dedicated research time. This might be due to fewer opportunities available to IMGs and DO students or secondary to incentivization by MD institutions.

Our data also suggest that students who pursue additional training have academic achievement metrics similar to those who do not. Additional training might increase medical students’ debt burden, thus catering to more affluent applicants, which, in turn, might have an impact on the diversity of the dermatology residency applicant pool.

Our data come from a single institution during a single application cycle, comprising 608 applicants. Nationwide, there were 701 dermatology residency applicants for the 2018-2019 application cycle; our pool therefore represents most (86.7%) but not all applicants.

We decided to use the US News & World Report 2019 rankings to identify top medical schools. Although this ranking system is imperfect and inherently subjective, it is widely utilized by prospective applicants and administrative faculty; we deemed it the best ranking that we could utilize to identify top medical schools. Because the University of Michigan Medical School was in the top 25 of Best Medical Schools: Research, according to the US News & World Report 2019 rankings, our applicant pool might be skewed to applicants interested in a more academic, research-focused residency program.

Our study revealed that 30% (n=184) of dermatology residency applicants pursued a second professional degree or dedicated research time. There was no difference in UMLE Step 1 and Step 2 scores for those who pursued additional training compared to those who did not.

To the Editor:

Securing a dermatology residency position is extraordinarily competitive. The match rate for US allopathic seniors for dermatology is 84.7%, among the lowest of all medical specialties. Matched dermatology applicants boast a mean US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) Step 1 score of 248, the second highest of all specialties.¹ To gain an edge, applicants are faced with decisions regarding pursuit of dedicated research time and additional professional degrees.

We conducted a cross-sectional study to determine how many dermatology residency applicants pursue additional years of training and how this decision relates to USMLE scores and other metrics. This study was approved by the University of Michigan institutional review board. Using Electronic Residency Application Service applicant data, all applicants to the University of Michigan Medical School (Ann Arbor, Michigan) dermatology residency program for the 2018-2019 application cycle were included.

Analysis of variance was performed to determine differences in mean USMLE Step 1 scores, Step 2 Clinical Knowledge scores, and number of research experiences (eg, presentations, publications) between groups. A 2-tailed z test of independent samples was performed for individual pairwise subgroup analyses.

There were 608 (377 female, 231 male; mean age, 27.9 years) applicants from 199 different medical schools; 550 graduated with an MD degree, 40 with a DO degree, and 18 were international medical graduates (IMGs)(eg, MBBS, MBBCh, BAO, MBChB). One hundred eighty-four applicants (30.2%) pursued either a second professional degree or a dedicated research period lasting at least 12 months. Twenty-eight applicants (4.6%) obtained a master’s degree, 21 (3.5%) obtained a doctorate, and 135 (22.2%) pursued dedicated research.

Of the 40 DO applicants, 1 (2.5%) pursued dedicated research time; 0 (zero) completed a dual degree. None (zero) of the 18 IMGs pursued a dual degree or dedicated research time. When the scores of applicants who pursued additional training and the scores of applicants who did not were compared, neither mean USMLE Step 1 scores nor mean USMLE Step 2 Clinical Knowledge scores were statistically different (P=.31 and P=.44, respectively). Applicants who completed medical school in 4 years had fewer research experiences (mean [SD] experiences, 13.9 [13.2]) than students with a master’s degree (18.5 [8.4]), doctorate (24.5 [17.5]), or dedicated research time (23.9 [14.9])(P<.001).

Utilizing US News & World Report rankings (2019 Best Medical Schools: Research), we determined that 146 applicants (24.0%) attended a top 25 medical school in 2019.² Of those 146 applicants, 77 (52.7%) pursued additional training through dedicated research or a second professional degree. Only 107 of the 462 applicants (23.2%) from medical schools that were not in the top 25 as determined by the US News & World Report pursued additional training (P<.0001)(Figure).

There is sentiment among applicants that a weaker dermatology residency application can be bolstered through a dedicated research year or a second professional degree. Whether this additional training has an impact on an applicant’s chances of matching is unclear and requires further investigation. Our data showed that applicants from the top 25 medical schools were more likely to pursue additional training than graduates at other institutions. These highly ranked academic institutions might encourage students to pursue a dual degree or research fellowship. In addition, year-long research opportunities might be more available through top medical schools; these schools might be more likely to offer dual-degree programs or provide funding to support student research opportunities.

It is important to comment on the potential importance of funding to support research years; the unpaid nature of many research fellowships in dermatology tends to favor applicants from a higher socioeconomic background. In that respect, the pervasive trend of encouraging research years in dermatology might widen already apparent disparities in our field, likely impacting underrepresented minorities disproportionately.³ Importantly, students with an MD degree represent nearly all applicants who completed a dual degree or dedicated research time. This might be due to fewer opportunities available to IMGs and DO students or secondary to incentivization by MD institutions.

Our data also suggest that students who pursue additional training have academic achievement metrics similar to those who do not. Additional training might increase medical students’ debt burden, thus catering to more affluent applicants, which, in turn, might have an impact on the diversity of the dermatology residency applicant pool.

Our data come from a single institution during a single application cycle, comprising 608 applicants. Nationwide, there were 701 dermatology residency applicants for the 2018-2019 application cycle; our pool therefore represents most (86.7%) but not all applicants.

We decided to use the US News & World Report 2019 rankings to identify top medical schools. Although this ranking system is imperfect and inherently subjective, it is widely utilized by prospective applicants and administrative faculty; we deemed it the best ranking that we could utilize to identify top medical schools. Because the University of Michigan Medical School was in the top 25 of Best Medical Schools: Research, according to the US News & World Report 2019 rankings, our applicant pool might be skewed to applicants interested in a more academic, research-focused residency program.

Our study revealed that 30% (n=184) of dermatology residency applicants pursued a second professional degree or dedicated research time. There was no difference in UMLE Step 1 and Step 2 scores for those who pursued additional training compared to those who did not.

To the Editor:

Securing a dermatology residency position is extraordinarily competitive. The match rate for US allopathic seniors for dermatology is 84.7%, among the lowest of all medical specialties. Matched dermatology applicants boast a mean US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) Step 1 score of 248, the second highest of all specialties.¹ To gain an edge, applicants are faced with decisions regarding pursuit of dedicated research time and additional professional degrees.

We conducted a cross-sectional study to determine how many dermatology residency applicants pursue additional years of training and how this decision relates to USMLE scores and other metrics. This study was approved by the University of Michigan institutional review board. Using Electronic Residency Application Service applicant data, all applicants to the University of Michigan Medical School (Ann Arbor, Michigan) dermatology residency program for the 2018-2019 application cycle were included.

Analysis of variance was performed to determine differences in mean USMLE Step 1 scores, Step 2 Clinical Knowledge scores, and number of research experiences (eg, presentations, publications) between groups. A 2-tailed z test of independent samples was performed for individual pairwise subgroup analyses.

There were 608 (377 female, 231 male; mean age, 27.9 years) applicants from 199 different medical schools; 550 graduated with an MD degree, 40 with a DO degree, and 18 were international medical graduates (IMGs)(eg, MBBS, MBBCh, BAO, MBChB). One hundred eighty-four applicants (30.2%) pursued either a second professional degree or a dedicated research period lasting at least 12 months. Twenty-eight applicants (4.6%) obtained a master’s degree, 21 (3.5%) obtained a doctorate, and 135 (22.2%) pursued dedicated research.

Of the 40 DO applicants, 1 (2.5%) pursued dedicated research time; 0 (zero) completed a dual degree. None (zero) of the 18 IMGs pursued a dual degree or dedicated research time. When the scores of applicants who pursued additional training and the scores of applicants who did not were compared, neither mean USMLE Step 1 scores nor mean USMLE Step 2 Clinical Knowledge scores were statistically different (P=.31 and P=.44, respectively). Applicants who completed medical school in 4 years had fewer research experiences (mean [SD] experiences, 13.9 [13.2]) than students with a master’s degree (18.5 [8.4]), doctorate (24.5 [17.5]), or dedicated research time (23.9 [14.9])(P<.001).

Utilizing US News & World Report rankings (2019 Best Medical Schools: Research), we determined that 146 applicants (24.0%) attended a top 25 medical school in 2019.² Of those 146 applicants, 77 (52.7%) pursued additional training through dedicated research or a second professional degree. Only 107 of the 462 applicants (23.2%) from medical schools that were not in the top 25 as determined by the US News & World Report pursued additional training (P<.0001)(Figure).

There is sentiment among applicants that a weaker dermatology residency application can be bolstered through a dedicated research year or a second professional degree. Whether this additional training has an impact on an applicant’s chances of matching is unclear and requires further investigation. Our data showed that applicants from the top 25 medical schools were more likely to pursue additional training than graduates at other institutions. These highly ranked academic institutions might encourage students to pursue a dual degree or research fellowship. In addition, year-long research opportunities might be more available through top medical schools; these schools might be more likely to offer dual-degree programs or provide funding to support student research opportunities.

It is important to comment on the potential importance of funding to support research years; the unpaid nature of many research fellowships in dermatology tends to favor applicants from a higher socioeconomic background. In that respect, the pervasive trend of encouraging research years in dermatology might widen already apparent disparities in our field, likely impacting underrepresented minorities disproportionately.³ Importantly, students with an MD degree represent nearly all applicants who completed a dual degree or dedicated research time. This might be due to fewer opportunities available to IMGs and DO students or secondary to incentivization by MD institutions.

Our data also suggest that students who pursue additional training have academic achievement metrics similar to those who do not. Additional training might increase medical students’ debt burden, thus catering to more affluent applicants, which, in turn, might have an impact on the diversity of the dermatology residency applicant pool.

Our data come from a single institution during a single application cycle, comprising 608 applicants. Nationwide, there were 701 dermatology residency applicants for the 2018-2019 application cycle; our pool therefore represents most (86.7%) but not all applicants.

We decided to use the US News & World Report 2019 rankings to identify top medical schools. Although this ranking system is imperfect and inherently subjective, it is widely utilized by prospective applicants and administrative faculty; we deemed it the best ranking that we could utilize to identify top medical schools. Because the University of Michigan Medical School was in the top 25 of Best Medical Schools: Research, according to the US News & World Report 2019 rankings, our applicant pool might be skewed to applicants interested in a more academic, research-focused residency program.

Our study revealed that 30% (n=184) of dermatology residency applicants pursued a second professional degree or dedicated research time. There was no difference in UMLE Step 1 and Step 2 scores for those who pursued additional training compared to those who did not.

As of 2018, the mean dermatologist to population ratio in the United States was 1.10 per 100,000 people, highlighting a shortage of dermatologists that is only predicted to increase in coming years.^1-4 This undersupply is fueled by both an increasing burden of dermatologic disease and population growth.⁴ Without readily available access to dermatologic care, many patients are left waiting for weeks to see a dermatologist, depending on geographic region.^5-7 It is not simply patients who perceive wait times to be prolonged; approximately half of dermatologists surveyed by the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD) reported an undersupply of dermatologists in their communities, a finding that strongly correlated with patient wait times.² Ensuring the dermatologic workforce is sufficient to fulfill patient needs requires innovation of current practice models. To address this unmet demand, many practices have begun incorporating physician extenders, a term that encompasses physicians not board certified in dermatology, physician assistants, and nurse practitioners.⁷ The evolving landscape of the dermatologic workforce raises questions about future practice models and patient outcomes.

Scope of Practice for Physician Extenders

In practice, the role of physician extenders is highly variable. Legislation involving the scope of practice for physician extenders constantly is changing and varies by state. As of November 2021, 24 states and the District of Columbia permit nurse practitioners “full practice” authority to triage patients, interpret diagnostic tests, and prescribe treatments without physician oversight, including controlled substances.^8,9 Even in states with “reduced practice” and “restricted practice” paradigms, which necessitate physician oversight, there remains ambiguity. Across the country, state regulatory bodies differ in statues governing licensing requirements, accessibility of the supervising physician, and ultimately culpability in the case of patient harm. Lack of consensus guidelines that clearly define roles and responsibilities has kindled controversy regarding extent of autonomy and liability for adverse outcomes.^10,11

With respect to procedures, the AAD has explicitly recommended that “only active and properly licensed doctors of medicine and osteopathy shall engage in the practice of medicine” but that “under appropriate circumstances, a physician may delegate certain procedures and services to appropriately trained nonphysician office personnel.”¹² This statement does not refer to or explicitly list the procedures that are appropriate for delegation to nonphysician personnel, and there is wide variability in how this recommendation is applied in daily practice. As it was originally intended, the AAD’s “Ethics in Medical Practice” position statement indicated that dermatologists must directly oversee physician extenders, a responsibility that is defined as being “present on-site, immediately available and able to respond promptly” to issues arising during the provision of health care services.¹²

Adverse Events From Cosmetic Procedures

The American Society for Dermatologic Surgery has documented a steady growth in the demand for cosmetic, medical, and surgical services,¹³ a trend that has heralded an increase in the number of procedures performed by physician extenders.^14,15 One study contrasted the risk for adverse events following minimally invasive cosmetic procedures performed by physicians or nonphysicians. Of 2116 patients surveyed, 50 adverse events were documented.¹⁴ The cohort treated by nonphysicians experienced a higher incidence of laser burns and dyspigmentation, and the use of improper technique was the most frequently implicated cause of developing an adverse event. Approximately 24.6% of American Society for Dermatologic Surgery members reported treating 10 or more complications of cosmetic procedures performed by nonphysicians.¹⁴ Beyond laser burns and dyspigmentation, this wide range of complications included inappropriately placed filler product, facial drooping, and scarring. These studies highlight the need for further investigation into the outcomes of procedures performed by physician extenders.

Training of Physician Extenders

Even with medical management, emphasis on proper training of personnel is key and remains a legitimate concern. The training of physician extenders in dermatology differs greatly by location; while some physician extenders operate under meticulous guidance and thus can expand their skill set, other physician extenders shadow dermatologists for an arbitrary amount of time before being thrust into practice.¹⁰ It would be a disservice to both patients and nonphysician providers alike to conflate the latter regimen with the 4 years of medical school, 1 year of internship, and 3 years of rigorous specialized dermatologic training that physicians undergo.

This stark discrepancy between the training of physicians and physician extenders raises difficult questions about the patient’s right to make an informed decision regarding how they receive health care. Indeed, the casually regulated autonomous practice of some nonphysician providers has ignited public shock and ire.¹¹

Reducing Health Care Expenditures

As legislatures deliberate over expanding scope of practice, policies should be based on evidence that prioritizes patient safety. In the appropriate setting, physician extenders can be instrumental to mitigating health care disparities; the use of physician extenders can diminish wait times for patients with routine visits for stable dermatologic disease.¹⁶ Moreover, reducing health care expenditures often is cited as a major benefit of increased utilization of physician extenders.¹⁴ It stands to reason that compensation of nonphysician providers is less expensive for a practice compared with physicians. Physician extenders participating in the management of stable chronic conditions or mild acute conditions may be cost-efficient in these circumstances; however, evidence suggests that physician extenders may incur greater costs than physicians with respect to the utilization of diagnostic tests or prescribing medications. For example, several studies have documented a substantial difference in the number of biopsies needed per malignant neoplasm by physicians compared to physician extenders.^17-19 Particularly in patients younger than 65 years and in patients without history of skin cancer, physician extenders had to perform a greater number of biopsies to diagnose malignant neoplasms vs physicians.¹⁸ In addition to increased utilization of diagnostic tests, nonphysician providers more frequently prescribe medications of varying classes.^20-22 Whether in outpatient offices, emergency departments, or hospital clinics, physician extenders more frequently prescribe antibiotics, which has concerning implications for antibiotic stewardship.^20,21 In states with independent prescription authority, physician extenders are more than 20 times more likely to overprescribeopioids compared to physician extenders in states requiring physician supervision.²³ These findings warrant additional investigation into how prescription patterns vary by provider type and how these differences impact patient outcomes.

Final Thoughts

Improving patient care is inherently a team endeavor, and the contributions of all members of the health care team are critical to success. Engaging physician extenders may help mitigate disparities in dermatologic care, with respect to surveillance of stable chronic conditions or the diagnosis of mild acute diseases. However, the exact scope of practice of physician extenders remains ambiguous, and their training regimens can vary drastically. Therefore, in the interest of patient safety, new patients or medically complex patients (ie, cutaneous lymphomas, nonstable autoimmune connective tissue disease) should be examined and managed by physicians. In either scenario, the patient should be informed of which providers are available and should be integrated into the decision-making process for their care. Through mutual respect, close collaboration, and candid assessments of patient complexity, different parties within the medical team can unite behind the mission to improve patient outcomes and champion equitable access to health care.

As of 2018, the mean dermatologist to population ratio in the United States was 1.10 per 100,000 people, highlighting a shortage of dermatologists that is only predicted to increase in coming years.^1-4 This undersupply is fueled by both an increasing burden of dermatologic disease and population growth.⁴ Without readily available access to dermatologic care, many patients are left waiting for weeks to see a dermatologist, depending on geographic region.^5-7 It is not simply patients who perceive wait times to be prolonged; approximately half of dermatologists surveyed by the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD) reported an undersupply of dermatologists in their communities, a finding that strongly correlated with patient wait times.² Ensuring the dermatologic workforce is sufficient to fulfill patient needs requires innovation of current practice models. To address this unmet demand, many practices have begun incorporating physician extenders, a term that encompasses physicians not board certified in dermatology, physician assistants, and nurse practitioners.⁷ The evolving landscape of the dermatologic workforce raises questions about future practice models and patient outcomes.

Scope of Practice for Physician Extenders

In practice, the role of physician extenders is highly variable. Legislation involving the scope of practice for physician extenders constantly is changing and varies by state. As of November 2021, 24 states and the District of Columbia permit nurse practitioners “full practice” authority to triage patients, interpret diagnostic tests, and prescribe treatments without physician oversight, including controlled substances.^8,9 Even in states with “reduced practice” and “restricted practice” paradigms, which necessitate physician oversight, there remains ambiguity. Across the country, state regulatory bodies differ in statues governing licensing requirements, accessibility of the supervising physician, and ultimately culpability in the case of patient harm. Lack of consensus guidelines that clearly define roles and responsibilities has kindled controversy regarding extent of autonomy and liability for adverse outcomes.^10,11

With respect to procedures, the AAD has explicitly recommended that “only active and properly licensed doctors of medicine and osteopathy shall engage in the practice of medicine” but that “under appropriate circumstances, a physician may delegate certain procedures and services to appropriately trained nonphysician office personnel.”¹² This statement does not refer to or explicitly list the procedures that are appropriate for delegation to nonphysician personnel, and there is wide variability in how this recommendation is applied in daily practice. As it was originally intended, the AAD’s “Ethics in Medical Practice” position statement indicated that dermatologists must directly oversee physician extenders, a responsibility that is defined as being “present on-site, immediately available and able to respond promptly” to issues arising during the provision of health care services.¹²

Adverse Events From Cosmetic Procedures

The American Society for Dermatologic Surgery has documented a steady growth in the demand for cosmetic, medical, and surgical services,¹³ a trend that has heralded an increase in the number of procedures performed by physician extenders.^14,15 One study contrasted the risk for adverse events following minimally invasive cosmetic procedures performed by physicians or nonphysicians. Of 2116 patients surveyed, 50 adverse events were documented.¹⁴ The cohort treated by nonphysicians experienced a higher incidence of laser burns and dyspigmentation, and the use of improper technique was the most frequently implicated cause of developing an adverse event. Approximately 24.6% of American Society for Dermatologic Surgery members reported treating 10 or more complications of cosmetic procedures performed by nonphysicians.¹⁴ Beyond laser burns and dyspigmentation, this wide range of complications included inappropriately placed filler product, facial drooping, and scarring. These studies highlight the need for further investigation into the outcomes of procedures performed by physician extenders.

Training of Physician Extenders

Even with medical management, emphasis on proper training of personnel is key and remains a legitimate concern. The training of physician extenders in dermatology differs greatly by location; while some physician extenders operate under meticulous guidance and thus can expand their skill set, other physician extenders shadow dermatologists for an arbitrary amount of time before being thrust into practice.¹⁰ It would be a disservice to both patients and nonphysician providers alike to conflate the latter regimen with the 4 years of medical school, 1 year of internship, and 3 years of rigorous specialized dermatologic training that physicians undergo.

This stark discrepancy between the training of physicians and physician extenders raises difficult questions about the patient’s right to make an informed decision regarding how they receive health care. Indeed, the casually regulated autonomous practice of some nonphysician providers has ignited public shock and ire.¹¹

Reducing Health Care Expenditures

As legislatures deliberate over expanding scope of practice, policies should be based on evidence that prioritizes patient safety. In the appropriate setting, physician extenders can be instrumental to mitigating health care disparities; the use of physician extenders can diminish wait times for patients with routine visits for stable dermatologic disease.¹⁶ Moreover, reducing health care expenditures often is cited as a major benefit of increased utilization of physician extenders.¹⁴ It stands to reason that compensation of nonphysician providers is less expensive for a practice compared with physicians. Physician extenders participating in the management of stable chronic conditions or mild acute conditions may be cost-efficient in these circumstances; however, evidence suggests that physician extenders may incur greater costs than physicians with respect to the utilization of diagnostic tests or prescribing medications. For example, several studies have documented a substantial difference in the number of biopsies needed per malignant neoplasm by physicians compared to physician extenders.^17-19 Particularly in patients younger than 65 years and in patients without history of skin cancer, physician extenders had to perform a greater number of biopsies to diagnose malignant neoplasms vs physicians.¹⁸ In addition to increased utilization of diagnostic tests, nonphysician providers more frequently prescribe medications of varying classes.^20-22 Whether in outpatient offices, emergency departments, or hospital clinics, physician extenders more frequently prescribe antibiotics, which has concerning implications for antibiotic stewardship.^20,21 In states with independent prescription authority, physician extenders are more than 20 times more likely to overprescribeopioids compared to physician extenders in states requiring physician supervision.²³ These findings warrant additional investigation into how prescription patterns vary by provider type and how these differences impact patient outcomes.

Final Thoughts

Improving patient care is inherently a team endeavor, and the contributions of all members of the health care team are critical to success. Engaging physician extenders may help mitigate disparities in dermatologic care, with respect to surveillance of stable chronic conditions or the diagnosis of mild acute diseases. However, the exact scope of practice of physician extenders remains ambiguous, and their training regimens can vary drastically. Therefore, in the interest of patient safety, new patients or medically complex patients (ie, cutaneous lymphomas, nonstable autoimmune connective tissue disease) should be examined and managed by physicians. In either scenario, the patient should be informed of which providers are available and should be integrated into the decision-making process for their care. Through mutual respect, close collaboration, and candid assessments of patient complexity, different parties within the medical team can unite behind the mission to improve patient outcomes and champion equitable access to health care.

As of 2018, the mean dermatologist to population ratio in the United States was 1.10 per 100,000 people, highlighting a shortage of dermatologists that is only predicted to increase in coming years.^1-4 This undersupply is fueled by both an increasing burden of dermatologic disease and population growth.⁴ Without readily available access to dermatologic care, many patients are left waiting for weeks to see a dermatologist, depending on geographic region.^5-7 It is not simply patients who perceive wait times to be prolonged; approximately half of dermatologists surveyed by the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD) reported an undersupply of dermatologists in their communities, a finding that strongly correlated with patient wait times.² Ensuring the dermatologic workforce is sufficient to fulfill patient needs requires innovation of current practice models. To address this unmet demand, many practices have begun incorporating physician extenders, a term that encompasses physicians not board certified in dermatology, physician assistants, and nurse practitioners.⁷ The evolving landscape of the dermatologic workforce raises questions about future practice models and patient outcomes.

Scope of Practice for Physician Extenders

In practice, the role of physician extenders is highly variable. Legislation involving the scope of practice for physician extenders constantly is changing and varies by state. As of November 2021, 24 states and the District of Columbia permit nurse practitioners “full practice” authority to triage patients, interpret diagnostic tests, and prescribe treatments without physician oversight, including controlled substances.^8,9 Even in states with “reduced practice” and “restricted practice” paradigms, which necessitate physician oversight, there remains ambiguity. Across the country, state regulatory bodies differ in statues governing licensing requirements, accessibility of the supervising physician, and ultimately culpability in the case of patient harm. Lack of consensus guidelines that clearly define roles and responsibilities has kindled controversy regarding extent of autonomy and liability for adverse outcomes.^10,11

With respect to procedures, the AAD has explicitly recommended that “only active and properly licensed doctors of medicine and osteopathy shall engage in the practice of medicine” but that “under appropriate circumstances, a physician may delegate certain procedures and services to appropriately trained nonphysician office personnel.”¹² This statement does not refer to or explicitly list the procedures that are appropriate for delegation to nonphysician personnel, and there is wide variability in how this recommendation is applied in daily practice. As it was originally intended, the AAD’s “Ethics in Medical Practice” position statement indicated that dermatologists must directly oversee physician extenders, a responsibility that is defined as being “present on-site, immediately available and able to respond promptly” to issues arising during the provision of health care services.¹²

Adverse Events From Cosmetic Procedures

The American Society for Dermatologic Surgery has documented a steady growth in the demand for cosmetic, medical, and surgical services,¹³ a trend that has heralded an increase in the number of procedures performed by physician extenders.^14,15 One study contrasted the risk for adverse events following minimally invasive cosmetic procedures performed by physicians or nonphysicians. Of 2116 patients surveyed, 50 adverse events were documented.¹⁴ The cohort treated by nonphysicians experienced a higher incidence of laser burns and dyspigmentation, and the use of improper technique was the most frequently implicated cause of developing an adverse event. Approximately 24.6% of American Society for Dermatologic Surgery members reported treating 10 or more complications of cosmetic procedures performed by nonphysicians.¹⁴ Beyond laser burns and dyspigmentation, this wide range of complications included inappropriately placed filler product, facial drooping, and scarring. These studies highlight the need for further investigation into the outcomes of procedures performed by physician extenders.

Training of Physician Extenders

Even with medical management, emphasis on proper training of personnel is key and remains a legitimate concern. The training of physician extenders in dermatology differs greatly by location; while some physician extenders operate under meticulous guidance and thus can expand their skill set, other physician extenders shadow dermatologists for an arbitrary amount of time before being thrust into practice.¹⁰ It would be a disservice to both patients and nonphysician providers alike to conflate the latter regimen with the 4 years of medical school, 1 year of internship, and 3 years of rigorous specialized dermatologic training that physicians undergo.

This stark discrepancy between the training of physicians and physician extenders raises difficult questions about the patient’s right to make an informed decision regarding how they receive health care. Indeed, the casually regulated autonomous practice of some nonphysician providers has ignited public shock and ire.¹¹

Reducing Health Care Expenditures

As legislatures deliberate over expanding scope of practice, policies should be based on evidence that prioritizes patient safety. In the appropriate setting, physician extenders can be instrumental to mitigating health care disparities; the use of physician extenders can diminish wait times for patients with routine visits for stable dermatologic disease.¹⁶ Moreover, reducing health care expenditures often is cited as a major benefit of increased utilization of physician extenders.¹⁴ It stands to reason that compensation of nonphysician providers is less expensive for a practice compared with physicians. Physician extenders participating in the management of stable chronic conditions or mild acute conditions may be cost-efficient in these circumstances; however, evidence suggests that physician extenders may incur greater costs than physicians with respect to the utilization of diagnostic tests or prescribing medications. For example, several studies have documented a substantial difference in the number of biopsies needed per malignant neoplasm by physicians compared to physician extenders.^17-19 Particularly in patients younger than 65 years and in patients without history of skin cancer, physician extenders had to perform a greater number of biopsies to diagnose malignant neoplasms vs physicians.¹⁸ In addition to increased utilization of diagnostic tests, nonphysician providers more frequently prescribe medications of varying classes.^20-22 Whether in outpatient offices, emergency departments, or hospital clinics, physician extenders more frequently prescribe antibiotics, which has concerning implications for antibiotic stewardship.^20,21 In states with independent prescription authority, physician extenders are more than 20 times more likely to overprescribeopioids compared to physician extenders in states requiring physician supervision.²³ These findings warrant additional investigation into how prescription patterns vary by provider type and how these differences impact patient outcomes.

Final Thoughts

Improving patient care is inherently a team endeavor, and the contributions of all members of the health care team are critical to success. Engaging physician extenders may help mitigate disparities in dermatologic care, with respect to surveillance of stable chronic conditions or the diagnosis of mild acute diseases. However, the exact scope of practice of physician extenders remains ambiguous, and their training regimens can vary drastically. Therefore, in the interest of patient safety, new patients or medically complex patients (ie, cutaneous lymphomas, nonstable autoimmune connective tissue disease) should be examined and managed by physicians. In either scenario, the patient should be informed of which providers are available and should be integrated into the decision-making process for their care. Through mutual respect, close collaboration, and candid assessments of patient complexity, different parties within the medical team can unite behind the mission to improve patient outcomes and champion equitable access to health care.

Rheumatologists seeking fellowships continue to show a preference for adult programs. Adult rheumatology programs filled nearly 100% of positions this year, but pediatric rheumatology programs filled only 69% of available slots, echoing trends of previous years.

The National Resident Matching Program (NRMP) issued results for 2021’s Medical Specialties Matching Program (MSMP) and Pediatric Specialties Match (PSM) in December.

“In pediatric rheumatology, like many other pediatric specialties, the limiting factor is the number of interested candidates. The number of available positions has not really changed over the last several years, but multiple positions again remained unfilled this year,” said Beth Marston, MD, chair of the American College of Rheumatology’s Committee on Rheumatology Training and Workforce Issues, in a statement.

Rheumatology was one of seven medical specialties that filled at least 95% of fellowship positions this year.

The specialty filled 120 of 125 enrolled programs (96%) and 266 of 272 certified positions (97.8%) in 2021. A total of 42.1% of the matched applicants comprised MD graduates, followed by foreign (27.1%), U.S. foreign (16.5%), and DO graduates (14.3%).

Among 357 applicants preferring this specialty in 2021, 73.9% (n = 264) matched to rheumatology. This meant that 22.1% did not match to any program. This scenario has played out over the last several years, Dr. Marston noted. Additional support for funding and the creation of more fellowship positions would translate to an increase in rheumatology graduates entering the workforce.

This could help mitigate workforce shortages that the ACR projected in 2015, she added.

Pediatric program applicants remain stagnant

For pediatric fellowships, the numbers weren’t as robust. Just 60% of 32 enrolled programs and 69.2% positions filled in 2021. MD graduates comprised most of the matched applicants (77.8%), followed by U.S. foreign (14.8%) and foreign and DO graduates (3.7% each). Overall, 27 out of 28 applicants or 96.4% matched to this specialty, a metric that’s remained steady but has not grown in recent years, Dr. Marston said.

This “suggests the need for additional efforts to understand and address barriers to choosing rheumatology fellowship training as a career path for pediatricians,” she said. The ACR’s Committee on Training and Workforce recently initiated a survey of combined medicine-pediatrics graduates in rheumatology to gain insights on why these graduates chose this career path.

The ACR is also looking into increasing access to rheumatology specialty care in underserved areas and finding creative solutions for increasing and filling rheumatology fellowship positions.
 

Largest match on record

Overall, 7,435 applicants participated in the 2021 MSMP, the largest on record. NRMP reported that 2,277 programs submitted rank order lists and offered 6,368 positions, an increase of more than 11% from 2020, respectively. A total of 90.4% positions (n = 5,759) were filled.

“The 2021 MSMP matched a record number of applicants to subspecialty training programs for positions set to begin July 2022,” NRMP President and CEO Donna L. Lamb, DHSc, MBA, said in a statement. “It’s rewarding to watch the MSMP grow, not only in terms of applicant interest and available training positions, but also from its launch 20 years ago with only three internal medicine subspecialties.”

NRMP largely attributed the increase in positions to the addition of critical care medicine, the latest subspecialty to join the MSMP. All fellows begin their training in July 2022.

The PSM also saw notable increases this year in several metrics. It offered 1,735 positions this year, a 5.9% increase from 2020. Overall, 1,507 positions (86.9%) were filled, a 6.6% increase from last year. 854 programs participated.

Rheumatologists seeking fellowships continue to show a preference for adult programs. Adult rheumatology programs filled nearly 100% of positions this year, but pediatric rheumatology programs filled only 69% of available slots, echoing trends of previous years.

The National Resident Matching Program (NRMP) issued results for 2021’s Medical Specialties Matching Program (MSMP) and Pediatric Specialties Match (PSM) in December.

“In pediatric rheumatology, like many other pediatric specialties, the limiting factor is the number of interested candidates. The number of available positions has not really changed over the last several years, but multiple positions again remained unfilled this year,” said Beth Marston, MD, chair of the American College of Rheumatology’s Committee on Rheumatology Training and Workforce Issues, in a statement.

Rheumatology was one of seven medical specialties that filled at least 95% of fellowship positions this year.

The specialty filled 120 of 125 enrolled programs (96%) and 266 of 272 certified positions (97.8%) in 2021. A total of 42.1% of the matched applicants comprised MD graduates, followed by foreign (27.1%), U.S. foreign (16.5%), and DO graduates (14.3%).

Among 357 applicants preferring this specialty in 2021, 73.9% (n = 264) matched to rheumatology. This meant that 22.1% did not match to any program. This scenario has played out over the last several years, Dr. Marston noted. Additional support for funding and the creation of more fellowship positions would translate to an increase in rheumatology graduates entering the workforce.

This could help mitigate workforce shortages that the ACR projected in 2015, she added.

Pediatric program applicants remain stagnant

For pediatric fellowships, the numbers weren’t as robust. Just 60% of 32 enrolled programs and 69.2% positions filled in 2021. MD graduates comprised most of the matched applicants (77.8%), followed by U.S. foreign (14.8%) and foreign and DO graduates (3.7% each). Overall, 27 out of 28 applicants or 96.4% matched to this specialty, a metric that’s remained steady but has not grown in recent years, Dr. Marston said.

This “suggests the need for additional efforts to understand and address barriers to choosing rheumatology fellowship training as a career path for pediatricians,” she said. The ACR’s Committee on Training and Workforce recently initiated a survey of combined medicine-pediatrics graduates in rheumatology to gain insights on why these graduates chose this career path.

The ACR is also looking into increasing access to rheumatology specialty care in underserved areas and finding creative solutions for increasing and filling rheumatology fellowship positions.
 

Largest match on record

Overall, 7,435 applicants participated in the 2021 MSMP, the largest on record. NRMP reported that 2,277 programs submitted rank order lists and offered 6,368 positions, an increase of more than 11% from 2020, respectively. A total of 90.4% positions (n = 5,759) were filled.

“The 2021 MSMP matched a record number of applicants to subspecialty training programs for positions set to begin July 2022,” NRMP President and CEO Donna L. Lamb, DHSc, MBA, said in a statement. “It’s rewarding to watch the MSMP grow, not only in terms of applicant interest and available training positions, but also from its launch 20 years ago with only three internal medicine subspecialties.”

NRMP largely attributed the increase in positions to the addition of critical care medicine, the latest subspecialty to join the MSMP. All fellows begin their training in July 2022.

The PSM also saw notable increases this year in several metrics. It offered 1,735 positions this year, a 5.9% increase from 2020. Overall, 1,507 positions (86.9%) were filled, a 6.6% increase from last year. 854 programs participated.

Rheumatologists seeking fellowships continue to show a preference for adult programs. Adult rheumatology programs filled nearly 100% of positions this year, but pediatric rheumatology programs filled only 69% of available slots, echoing trends of previous years.

The National Resident Matching Program (NRMP) issued results for 2021’s Medical Specialties Matching Program (MSMP) and Pediatric Specialties Match (PSM) in December.

“In pediatric rheumatology, like many other pediatric specialties, the limiting factor is the number of interested candidates. The number of available positions has not really changed over the last several years, but multiple positions again remained unfilled this year,” said Beth Marston, MD, chair of the American College of Rheumatology’s Committee on Rheumatology Training and Workforce Issues, in a statement.

Rheumatology was one of seven medical specialties that filled at least 95% of fellowship positions this year.

The specialty filled 120 of 125 enrolled programs (96%) and 266 of 272 certified positions (97.8%) in 2021. A total of 42.1% of the matched applicants comprised MD graduates, followed by foreign (27.1%), U.S. foreign (16.5%), and DO graduates (14.3%).

Among 357 applicants preferring this specialty in 2021, 73.9% (n = 264) matched to rheumatology. This meant that 22.1% did not match to any program. This scenario has played out over the last several years, Dr. Marston noted. Additional support for funding and the creation of more fellowship positions would translate to an increase in rheumatology graduates entering the workforce.

This could help mitigate workforce shortages that the ACR projected in 2015, she added.

Pediatric program applicants remain stagnant

For pediatric fellowships, the numbers weren’t as robust. Just 60% of 32 enrolled programs and 69.2% positions filled in 2021. MD graduates comprised most of the matched applicants (77.8%), followed by U.S. foreign (14.8%) and foreign and DO graduates (3.7% each). Overall, 27 out of 28 applicants or 96.4% matched to this specialty, a metric that’s remained steady but has not grown in recent years, Dr. Marston said.

This “suggests the need for additional efforts to understand and address barriers to choosing rheumatology fellowship training as a career path for pediatricians,” she said. The ACR’s Committee on Training and Workforce recently initiated a survey of combined medicine-pediatrics graduates in rheumatology to gain insights on why these graduates chose this career path.

The ACR is also looking into increasing access to rheumatology specialty care in underserved areas and finding creative solutions for increasing and filling rheumatology fellowship positions.
 

Largest match on record

Overall, 7,435 applicants participated in the 2021 MSMP, the largest on record. NRMP reported that 2,277 programs submitted rank order lists and offered 6,368 positions, an increase of more than 11% from 2020, respectively. A total of 90.4% positions (n = 5,759) were filled.

“The 2021 MSMP matched a record number of applicants to subspecialty training programs for positions set to begin July 2022,” NRMP President and CEO Donna L. Lamb, DHSc, MBA, said in a statement. “It’s rewarding to watch the MSMP grow, not only in terms of applicant interest and available training positions, but also from its launch 20 years ago with only three internal medicine subspecialties.”

NRMP largely attributed the increase in positions to the addition of critical care medicine, the latest subspecialty to join the MSMP. All fellows begin their training in July 2022.

The PSM also saw notable increases this year in several metrics. It offered 1,735 positions this year, a 5.9% increase from 2020. Overall, 1,507 positions (86.9%) were filled, a 6.6% increase from last year. 854 programs participated.

I had seen many new and exciting presentations of psychopathology during my intern year, yet one patient was uniquely memorable. When stable, he worked as a counselor, though for any number of reasons (eg, missing a dose of medication, smoking marijuana) his manic symptoms would emerge quickly, the disease rearing its ugly head within hours. He would become extremely hyperactive, elated, disinhibited (running naked in the streets), and grandiose (believing he was working for the president). He would be escorted to our psychiatric emergency department (ED) by police, who would have to resort to handcuffing him. His symptoms were described by ED and inpatient nursing staff and residents as “disorganized,” “psychotic,” “agitated,”’ or “combative.” He would receive large doses of intramuscular (IM) haloperidol, chlorpromazine, and diphenhydramine in desperate attempts to rein in his mania. Frustratingly—and paradoxically— this would make him more confused, disoriented, restless, and hyperactive, and often led to the need for restraints.

This behavior persisted for days until an attending I was working with assessed him. The attending observed that the patient did not know his current location, day of the week or month, or how he ended up in the hospital. He observed this patient intermittently staring, making abnormal repetitive movements with his arms and hands, occasionally freezing, making impulsive movements, and becoming combative without provocation. His heart rate and temperature were elevated; he was diaphoretic, especially after receiving parenteral antipsychotics. The attending, a pupil of Max Fink, made the diagnosis: delirious mania, a form of catatonia.^1,2 Resolution was quick and complete after 6 bilateral electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) sessions.

Catatonia, a neuropsychiatric phenomenon characterized by abnormal speech, movement, and affect, has undergone numerous paradigm shifts since it was recognized by Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum in 1874.³ Shortly after Kahlbaum, Emil Kraepelin held the belief that catatonia was a subtype of dementia praecox, or what is now known as schizophrenia.⁴ Due to this, patients were likely receiving less-than-optimal treatments, because their catatonia was being diagnosed as acute psychosis. Finally, in DSM-5, catatonia was unshackled from the constraints of schizophrenia and is now an entity of its own.⁵ However, catatonia is often met with incertitude (despite being present in up to 15% of inpatients),¹ with its treatment typically delayed or not even pursued. This is amplified because many forms of catatonia are often misdiagnosed as disorders that are more common or better understood.

Potential catatonia presentations

Delirious mania. Patients with delirious mania typically present with acute delirium, severe paranoia, hyperactivity, and visual/auditory hallucinations.^2,6,7 They usually have excited catatonic signs, such as excessive movement, combativeness, impulsivity, stereotypy, and echophenomena. Unfortunately, the catatonia is overshadowed by extreme psychotic and manic symptoms, or delirium (for which an underlying medical cause is usually not found). As was the case for the patient I described earlier, large doses of IM antipsychotics usually are administered, which can cause neuroleptic malignant syndrome (NMS) or precipitate seizures.⁸

Neuroleptic malignant syndrome. NMS is marked by fever, elevated blood pressure and heart rate, lead-pipe rigidity, parkinsonian features, altered mental status, and lab abnormalities (elevated liver enzymes or creatinine phosphokinase). This syndrome is preceded by the administration of an antipsychotic. It has features of catatonia that include mutism, negativism, and posturing.⁹ NMS is commonly interpreted as a subtype of malignant catatonia. Some argue that the diagnosis of malignant catatonia yields a more favorable outcome because it leads to more effective treatments (ie, benzodiazepines and ECT as opposed to dopamine agonists and dantrolene).¹⁰ Because NMS has much overlap with serotonin syndrome and drug-induced parkinsonism, initiation of benzodiazepines and ECT often is delayed.¹¹

Retarded catatonia. This version of catatonia usually is well recognized. The typical presentation is a patient who does not speak (mutism) or move (stupor), stares, becomes withdrawn (does not eat or drink), or maintains abnormal posturing. Retarded catatonia can be confused with a major depressive episode or hypoactive delirium.

Catatonia in autism spectrum disorder. Historically, co-occurring catatonia and autism spectrum disorder (ASD) was believed to be extremely rare. However, recent retrospective studies have found that up to 17% of patients with ASD older than age 15 have catatonia.¹² Many pediatric psychiatrists fail to recognize catatonia; in 1 study, only 2 patients (of 18) were correctly identified as having catatonia.¹³ The catatonic signs may vary, but the core features include withdrawal (children may need a feeding tube), decreased communication and/or worsening psychomotor slowing, agitation, or stereotypical movements, which can manifest as worsening self-injurious behavior.^14,15

An approach to treatment

Regardless of the etiology or presentation, first-line treatment for catatonia is benzodiazepines and/or ECT. A lorazepam challenge is used for diagnostic clarification; if effective, lorazepam can be titrated until symptoms fully resolve.^16,17 Doses >20 mg have been reported as effective and well-tolerated, without the feared sedation and respiratory depression.⁶ An unsuccessful lorazepam challenge does not rule out catatonia. If benzodiazepine therapy fails or the patient requires immediate symptom relief, ECT is the most effective treatment. Many clinicians use a bilateral electrode placement with high-energy dosing and frequent sessions until the catatonia resolves.^1,18

In my experience, catatonia in all its forms remains poorly recognized, with its treatment questioned. Residents—especially those in psychiatry—must understand that catatonia can result in systemic illness or death.

I had seen many new and exciting presentations of psychopathology during my intern year, yet one patient was uniquely memorable. When stable, he worked as a counselor, though for any number of reasons (eg, missing a dose of medication, smoking marijuana) his manic symptoms would emerge quickly, the disease rearing its ugly head within hours. He would become extremely hyperactive, elated, disinhibited (running naked in the streets), and grandiose (believing he was working for the president). He would be escorted to our psychiatric emergency department (ED) by police, who would have to resort to handcuffing him. His symptoms were described by ED and inpatient nursing staff and residents as “disorganized,” “psychotic,” “agitated,”’ or “combative.” He would receive large doses of intramuscular (IM) haloperidol, chlorpromazine, and diphenhydramine in desperate attempts to rein in his mania. Frustratingly—and paradoxically— this would make him more confused, disoriented, restless, and hyperactive, and often led to the need for restraints.

This behavior persisted for days until an attending I was working with assessed him. The attending observed that the patient did not know his current location, day of the week or month, or how he ended up in the hospital. He observed this patient intermittently staring, making abnormal repetitive movements with his arms and hands, occasionally freezing, making impulsive movements, and becoming combative without provocation. His heart rate and temperature were elevated; he was diaphoretic, especially after receiving parenteral antipsychotics. The attending, a pupil of Max Fink, made the diagnosis: delirious mania, a form of catatonia.^1,2 Resolution was quick and complete after 6 bilateral electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) sessions.

Catatonia, a neuropsychiatric phenomenon characterized by abnormal speech, movement, and affect, has undergone numerous paradigm shifts since it was recognized by Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum in 1874.³ Shortly after Kahlbaum, Emil Kraepelin held the belief that catatonia was a subtype of dementia praecox, or what is now known as schizophrenia.⁴ Due to this, patients were likely receiving less-than-optimal treatments, because their catatonia was being diagnosed as acute psychosis. Finally, in DSM-5, catatonia was unshackled from the constraints of schizophrenia and is now an entity of its own.⁵ However, catatonia is often met with incertitude (despite being present in up to 15% of inpatients),¹ with its treatment typically delayed or not even pursued. This is amplified because many forms of catatonia are often misdiagnosed as disorders that are more common or better understood.

Potential catatonia presentations

Delirious mania. Patients with delirious mania typically present with acute delirium, severe paranoia, hyperactivity, and visual/auditory hallucinations.^2,6,7 They usually have excited catatonic signs, such as excessive movement, combativeness, impulsivity, stereotypy, and echophenomena. Unfortunately, the catatonia is overshadowed by extreme psychotic and manic symptoms, or delirium (for which an underlying medical cause is usually not found). As was the case for the patient I described earlier, large doses of IM antipsychotics usually are administered, which can cause neuroleptic malignant syndrome (NMS) or precipitate seizures.⁸

Neuroleptic malignant syndrome. NMS is marked by fever, elevated blood pressure and heart rate, lead-pipe rigidity, parkinsonian features, altered mental status, and lab abnormalities (elevated liver enzymes or creatinine phosphokinase). This syndrome is preceded by the administration of an antipsychotic. It has features of catatonia that include mutism, negativism, and posturing.⁹ NMS is commonly interpreted as a subtype of malignant catatonia. Some argue that the diagnosis of malignant catatonia yields a more favorable outcome because it leads to more effective treatments (ie, benzodiazepines and ECT as opposed to dopamine agonists and dantrolene).¹⁰ Because NMS has much overlap with serotonin syndrome and drug-induced parkinsonism, initiation of benzodiazepines and ECT often is delayed.¹¹

Retarded catatonia. This version of catatonia usually is well recognized. The typical presentation is a patient who does not speak (mutism) or move (stupor), stares, becomes withdrawn (does not eat or drink), or maintains abnormal posturing. Retarded catatonia can be confused with a major depressive episode or hypoactive delirium.

Catatonia in autism spectrum disorder. Historically, co-occurring catatonia and autism spectrum disorder (ASD) was believed to be extremely rare. However, recent retrospective studies have found that up to 17% of patients with ASD older than age 15 have catatonia.¹² Many pediatric psychiatrists fail to recognize catatonia; in 1 study, only 2 patients (of 18) were correctly identified as having catatonia.¹³ The catatonic signs may vary, but the core features include withdrawal (children may need a feeding tube), decreased communication and/or worsening psychomotor slowing, agitation, or stereotypical movements, which can manifest as worsening self-injurious behavior.^14,15

An approach to treatment

Regardless of the etiology or presentation, first-line treatment for catatonia is benzodiazepines and/or ECT. A lorazepam challenge is used for diagnostic clarification; if effective, lorazepam can be titrated until symptoms fully resolve.^16,17 Doses >20 mg have been reported as effective and well-tolerated, without the feared sedation and respiratory depression.⁶ An unsuccessful lorazepam challenge does not rule out catatonia. If benzodiazepine therapy fails or the patient requires immediate symptom relief, ECT is the most effective treatment. Many clinicians use a bilateral electrode placement with high-energy dosing and frequent sessions until the catatonia resolves.^1,18

In my experience, catatonia in all its forms remains poorly recognized, with its treatment questioned. Residents—especially those in psychiatry—must understand that catatonia can result in systemic illness or death.

I had seen many new and exciting presentations of psychopathology during my intern year, yet one patient was uniquely memorable. When stable, he worked as a counselor, though for any number of reasons (eg, missing a dose of medication, smoking marijuana) his manic symptoms would emerge quickly, the disease rearing its ugly head within hours. He would become extremely hyperactive, elated, disinhibited (running naked in the streets), and grandiose (believing he was working for the president). He would be escorted to our psychiatric emergency department (ED) by police, who would have to resort to handcuffing him. His symptoms were described by ED and inpatient nursing staff and residents as “disorganized,” “psychotic,” “agitated,”’ or “combative.” He would receive large doses of intramuscular (IM) haloperidol, chlorpromazine, and diphenhydramine in desperate attempts to rein in his mania. Frustratingly—and paradoxically— this would make him more confused, disoriented, restless, and hyperactive, and often led to the need for restraints.

This behavior persisted for days until an attending I was working with assessed him. The attending observed that the patient did not know his current location, day of the week or month, or how he ended up in the hospital. He observed this patient intermittently staring, making abnormal repetitive movements with his arms and hands, occasionally freezing, making impulsive movements, and becoming combative without provocation. His heart rate and temperature were elevated; he was diaphoretic, especially after receiving parenteral antipsychotics. The attending, a pupil of Max Fink, made the diagnosis: delirious mania, a form of catatonia.^1,2 Resolution was quick and complete after 6 bilateral electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) sessions.

Catatonia, a neuropsychiatric phenomenon characterized by abnormal speech, movement, and affect, has undergone numerous paradigm shifts since it was recognized by Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum in 1874.³ Shortly after Kahlbaum, Emil Kraepelin held the belief that catatonia was a subtype of dementia praecox, or what is now known as schizophrenia.⁴ Due to this, patients were likely receiving less-than-optimal treatments, because their catatonia was being diagnosed as acute psychosis. Finally, in DSM-5, catatonia was unshackled from the constraints of schizophrenia and is now an entity of its own.⁵ However, catatonia is often met with incertitude (despite being present in up to 15% of inpatients),¹ with its treatment typically delayed or not even pursued. This is amplified because many forms of catatonia are often misdiagnosed as disorders that are more common or better understood.

Potential catatonia presentations

Delirious mania. Patients with delirious mania typically present with acute delirium, severe paranoia, hyperactivity, and visual/auditory hallucinations.^2,6,7 They usually have excited catatonic signs, such as excessive movement, combativeness, impulsivity, stereotypy, and echophenomena. Unfortunately, the catatonia is overshadowed by extreme psychotic and manic symptoms, or delirium (for which an underlying medical cause is usually not found). As was the case for the patient I described earlier, large doses of IM antipsychotics usually are administered, which can cause neuroleptic malignant syndrome (NMS) or precipitate seizures.⁸

Neuroleptic malignant syndrome. NMS is marked by fever, elevated blood pressure and heart rate, lead-pipe rigidity, parkinsonian features, altered mental status, and lab abnormalities (elevated liver enzymes or creatinine phosphokinase). This syndrome is preceded by the administration of an antipsychotic. It has features of catatonia that include mutism, negativism, and posturing.⁹ NMS is commonly interpreted as a subtype of malignant catatonia. Some argue that the diagnosis of malignant catatonia yields a more favorable outcome because it leads to more effective treatments (ie, benzodiazepines and ECT as opposed to dopamine agonists and dantrolene).¹⁰ Because NMS has much overlap with serotonin syndrome and drug-induced parkinsonism, initiation of benzodiazepines and ECT often is delayed.¹¹

Retarded catatonia. This version of catatonia usually is well recognized. The typical presentation is a patient who does not speak (mutism) or move (stupor), stares, becomes withdrawn (does not eat or drink), or maintains abnormal posturing. Retarded catatonia can be confused with a major depressive episode or hypoactive delirium.

Catatonia in autism spectrum disorder. Historically, co-occurring catatonia and autism spectrum disorder (ASD) was believed to be extremely rare. However, recent retrospective studies have found that up to 17% of patients with ASD older than age 15 have catatonia.¹² Many pediatric psychiatrists fail to recognize catatonia; in 1 study, only 2 patients (of 18) were correctly identified as having catatonia.¹³ The catatonic signs may vary, but the core features include withdrawal (children may need a feeding tube), decreased communication and/or worsening psychomotor slowing, agitation, or stereotypical movements, which can manifest as worsening self-injurious behavior.^14,15

An approach to treatment

Regardless of the etiology or presentation, first-line treatment for catatonia is benzodiazepines and/or ECT. A lorazepam challenge is used for diagnostic clarification; if effective, lorazepam can be titrated until symptoms fully resolve.^16,17 Doses >20 mg have been reported as effective and well-tolerated, without the feared sedation and respiratory depression.⁶ An unsuccessful lorazepam challenge does not rule out catatonia. If benzodiazepine therapy fails or the patient requires immediate symptom relief, ECT is the most effective treatment. Many clinicians use a bilateral electrode placement with high-energy dosing and frequent sessions until the catatonia resolves.^1,18

In my experience, catatonia in all its forms remains poorly recognized, with its treatment questioned. Residents—especially those in psychiatry—must understand that catatonia can result in systemic illness or death.

Direct immunofluorescence (DIF) is the go-to diagnostic test when evaluating vesiculobullous eruptions, connective tissue disease, and vasculitis. This specialized test allows visualization of autoantibodies and their reaction products in the epidermis and dermis (skin) and epithelium and subepithelium (mucosa). Indirect immunofluorescence (IIF) and enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay (ELISA) are additional tests that can help in the diagnosis of autoimmune blistering disease. In the blistering autoimmune diseases, the autoantibodies target components in skin and mucous membranes that are essential for cell-cell and cell-matrix adhesion causing separation within or beneath the epidermis, depending on where the target components are located. This article is intended to serve as a helpful primer for immunofluorescence testing in dermatology, with an overview of the tests available as well as pragmatic tips for optimal biopsy sites and specimen transport.

Direct Immunofluorescence

Immunofluorescence techniques date back to 1941 when Albert Coons, an American physician, pathologist, and immunologist, fluorescently labelled antibodies to visualize pneumococcal antigens in infected tissues.^1-3 In dermatology, similar methodology was used to visualize the deposition of immunoglobulins and complement in the skin of patients with systemic lupus erythematosus in 1963.⁴ Basement membrane zone antibodies were first visualized via DIF in bullous pemphigoid in 1967.⁵ This elegant test utilizes specific antibodies labeled with fluorophores that are then incubated with the patient’s tissue, ultimately forming antibody-antigen conjugates that can be visualized with a fluorescent microscope. Antibodies usually include IgG, IgM, IgA, fibrinogen, and C3. Some institutions also evaluate for IgG4.

Transport medium is critical for proper evaluation of tissues using DIF. Inappropriate storage of tissue can degrade the antigen and confuse the interpretation of specimens. An acceptable medium for DIF includes Michel transport medium, which allows tissue to be stored for days while being transported at ambient temperature without loss of signal.^6,7 Zeus medium also can be used and is more readily available. Alternatively, biopsy tissue can be snap frozen using liquid nitrogen. Specimens also may be stored on saline gauze but should be analyzed within 24 to 48 hours.⁸ Most importantly, do not place the specimen in formalin; even a brief soak in formalin can greatly alter results, especially when trying to diagnose pemphigus.⁹ Proper transport conditions are critical to prevent autolysis, mitigate putrefaction, and preserve morphology while maintaining antigenicity.¹⁰

Indirect Immunofluorescence

Indirect immunofluorescence can be helpful for detecting antibodies circulating in patient serum. Indirect immunofluorescence can be used to help diagnose pemphigoid, pemphigus, epidermolysis bullosa acquisita, bullous lupus erythematosus, and dermatitis herpetiformis. Serum testing also can be a helpful alternative when obtaining tissue is difficult, such as in children.

Indirect immunofluorescence is a 2-part technique that takes a bit longer to assay than DIF.¹¹ The first step involves incubating prepared tissue substrates with patient serum. Unlabeled antibodies in the patient serum are allowed to bind to antigens in the substrate tissue for about 30 minutes. Doubling dilutions of patient serum can be performed to titer antibody levels. The second step uses fluorescein-labeled antihuman antibodies to recognize the antigen-antibody conjugates. Normal whole tissues (eg, monkey esophagus for pemphigus vulgaris, rat bladder for paraneoplastic pemphigus, salt-split normal human skin substrate for pemphigoid and epidermolysis bullosa) are the usual substrates for testing.^11,12 Again, this test requires serum and should be collected in a red-top tube or serum-separator tube. Usually, a minimum of 0.5 mL is required for testing, but check with your preferred immunodermatology send-out laboratory before collecting.¹³

Indirect immunofluorescence usually involves an initial screening panel using 1 or 2 tissue substrates followed by individual antigen-specific assays that correspond to the clinical suspicion and IIF screening results.¹¹ Salt-split skin is used to localize basement membrane zone autoantibodies to either the epidermal (roof) or dermal (floor) side. Although many dermatopathology laboratories offer DIF testing, IIF is more specialized and may be a send-out test at your institution.

Enzyme-linked Immunosorbent Assays

Another tool in the immunodermatology armamentarium is ELISA. Commercial ELISA systems are available for the detection of autoantibodies against bullous pemphigoid (BP) antigen 180, BP230, type VII collagen, desmoglein (Dsg) 1, Dsg3, and envoplakin.¹¹ This test allows semiquantitative measurement of antibody levels and thus can be used to monitor response to treatment or identify relapse and treatment failure.¹¹ For example, in BP, significantly increased baseline anti-BP180 IgG levels correlate with 1-year mortality rates (P=.001) and relapse rates (P=.041).^14,15 Numerous additional studies support the observation that monitoring anti-BP180 as a potential marker of disease relapse can be helpful.^16,17 In pemphigus, the presence or increase of autoantibodies at remission, either anti-Dsg3 or anti-Dsg1, may be a useful tool in predicting disease relapse.¹⁸ It is important for physicians to be aware of this to be able to offer guidance on prognosis.

Knowing where to biopsy can be confusing when beginning residency. But the short answer is, it depends. Let your clinical suspicion guide your specimen site. The Figure provides a quick reference for which location will give you the highest yield for a specific diagnosis.

A few cardinal rules should guide which site is biopsied. Avoid obtaining specimens from the lower extremities as much as possible, as this site has been linked with false-negative results, especially in bullous pemphigoid.^19,20 As a dependent area prone to stasis, this site gets a lot of abuse and inflammatory changes secondary to everyday insults that can theoretically alter DIF findings, especially fibrinogen deposition.

Although tissue sent for hematoxylin and eosin staining should be lesional, biopsy for DIF ideally should not contain a new or active blister, ulcer, erosion, or bulla. Immunoreactants are more likely to be degraded in these areas, and DIF may be falsely negative.²¹

It is worthwhile to briefly discuss the definitions of the terms perilesional and nonlesional. Perilesional skin most frequently refers to skin adjacent to a bulla or vesicle. This skin can be erythematous/inflamed or appear normal. When obtaining tissue for a diagnosis of blistering disease, the general recommendation is to obtain the biopsy from lesional nonbullous skin or perilesional uninvolved skin within 1 cm of the bulla.^22-24 The only exception to this is dermatitis herpetiformis, which is best diagnosed on tissue obtained from normal-appearing perilesional skin within 1 cm of an active lesion.²⁵ Additionally, if your patient has oral disease, the recommendation is to obtain the biopsy from nonlesional buccal mucosa, especially if there is desquamative gingivitis.^26,27

The ideal biopsy size is 4 or 5 mm. If considering both DIF and histopathology, it is best to procure 2 separate specimens. One larger biopsy can be carefully bisected in 2 but often is subject to more handling artifacts, which can affect findings. In the case of 1 biopsy bisected into 2 specimens, the punch should be at least 6 mm. Shave biopsies also can be performed as long as they extend into the reticular dermis.²³

For vasculitis, biopsies for DIF should be taken from lesions that are less than 24 hours old for highest yield, as the level of tissue immunoreactants tends to decline over time.²⁸ This guideline does differ from hematoxylin and eosin specimens sent for evaluation of vasculitis, which ideally should be lesional tissue over 72 hours old. When evaluating for lupus (including subacute cutaneous lupus, discoid lupus, and systemic lupus), DIF is more likely to be positive in well-established, active lesions.

Which Test Should I Order?

The answer to this question depends, but the use of all 3 tests has a specificity close to 100% when evaluating for autoantibody-associated diseases.²³ For autoimmune blistering disease, DIF is considered the diagnostic standard. The sensitivity of DIF for diagnosing BP is in the range of 82% to 90.5%, while specificity is 98%.^29-31 Other autoimmune blistering diseases, such as pemphigus or dermatitis herpetiformis, have even higher sensitivities and specificities. Direct immunofluorescence often is used as a screening test, but false negatives do occur.^32,33 Although rare, false positives also can occur, especially in cases of infection, and should be suspected when there is a lack of clinicopathologic correlation.³⁴ If DIF is negative but clinical suspicion remains high, IIF should be ordered to directly evaluate a patient’s serum for autoantibodies.

In acute cutaneous lupus, subacute cutaneous lupus, and discoid lupus, DIF of active lesions may be helpful if histopathologic examination of a cutaneous lupus erythematosus lesion is nondiagnostic. However, histopathologic examination of formalin-fixed tissue remains the standard for these diagnoses. In vasculitis, while DIF is not used for diagnosis, it is useful to evaluate for IgA deposition. This is important in adults, as IgA deposition has been associated with a greater risk for developing end-stage renal disease.³⁵

Final Thoughts

This is an overview of the tests available for diagnosing autoimmune blistering diseases. Residents should keep in mind that these tests are just one part of the puzzle when it comes to diagnosing these diseases. Results of DIF, IIF, and ELISA testing should be considered in conjunction with patient history and physical examination as well as histopathologic examination of lesional tissue when evaluating for dermatologic diseases with autoantibodies.

Direct immunofluorescence (DIF) is the go-to diagnostic test when evaluating vesiculobullous eruptions, connective tissue disease, and vasculitis. This specialized test allows visualization of autoantibodies and their reaction products in the epidermis and dermis (skin) and epithelium and subepithelium (mucosa). Indirect immunofluorescence (IIF) and enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay (ELISA) are additional tests that can help in the diagnosis of autoimmune blistering disease. In the blistering autoimmune diseases, the autoantibodies target components in skin and mucous membranes that are essential for cell-cell and cell-matrix adhesion causing separation within or beneath the epidermis, depending on where the target components are located. This article is intended to serve as a helpful primer for immunofluorescence testing in dermatology, with an overview of the tests available as well as pragmatic tips for optimal biopsy sites and specimen transport.

Direct Immunofluorescence

Immunofluorescence techniques date back to 1941 when Albert Coons, an American physician, pathologist, and immunologist, fluorescently labelled antibodies to visualize pneumococcal antigens in infected tissues.^1-3 In dermatology, similar methodology was used to visualize the deposition of immunoglobulins and complement in the skin of patients with systemic lupus erythematosus in 1963.⁴ Basement membrane zone antibodies were first visualized via DIF in bullous pemphigoid in 1967.⁵ This elegant test utilizes specific antibodies labeled with fluorophores that are then incubated with the patient’s tissue, ultimately forming antibody-antigen conjugates that can be visualized with a fluorescent microscope. Antibodies usually include IgG, IgM, IgA, fibrinogen, and C3. Some institutions also evaluate for IgG4.

Transport medium is critical for proper evaluation of tissues using DIF. Inappropriate storage of tissue can degrade the antigen and confuse the interpretation of specimens. An acceptable medium for DIF includes Michel transport medium, which allows tissue to be stored for days while being transported at ambient temperature without loss of signal.^6,7 Zeus medium also can be used and is more readily available. Alternatively, biopsy tissue can be snap frozen using liquid nitrogen. Specimens also may be stored on saline gauze but should be analyzed within 24 to 48 hours.⁸ Most importantly, do not place the specimen in formalin; even a brief soak in formalin can greatly alter results, especially when trying to diagnose pemphigus.⁹ Proper transport conditions are critical to prevent autolysis, mitigate putrefaction, and preserve morphology while maintaining antigenicity.¹⁰

Indirect Immunofluorescence

Indirect immunofluorescence can be helpful for detecting antibodies circulating in patient serum. Indirect immunofluorescence can be used to help diagnose pemphigoid, pemphigus, epidermolysis bullosa acquisita, bullous lupus erythematosus, and dermatitis herpetiformis. Serum testing also can be a helpful alternative when obtaining tissue is difficult, such as in children.

Indirect immunofluorescence is a 2-part technique that takes a bit longer to assay than DIF.¹¹ The first step involves incubating prepared tissue substrates with patient serum. Unlabeled antibodies in the patient serum are allowed to bind to antigens in the substrate tissue for about 30 minutes. Doubling dilutions of patient serum can be performed to titer antibody levels. The second step uses fluorescein-labeled antihuman antibodies to recognize the antigen-antibody conjugates. Normal whole tissues (eg, monkey esophagus for pemphigus vulgaris, rat bladder for paraneoplastic pemphigus, salt-split normal human skin substrate for pemphigoid and epidermolysis bullosa) are the usual substrates for testing.^11,12 Again, this test requires serum and should be collected in a red-top tube or serum-separator tube. Usually, a minimum of 0.5 mL is required for testing, but check with your preferred immunodermatology send-out laboratory before collecting.¹³

Indirect immunofluorescence usually involves an initial screening panel using 1 or 2 tissue substrates followed by individual antigen-specific assays that correspond to the clinical suspicion and IIF screening results.¹¹ Salt-split skin is used to localize basement membrane zone autoantibodies to either the epidermal (roof) or dermal (floor) side. Although many dermatopathology laboratories offer DIF testing, IIF is more specialized and may be a send-out test at your institution.

Enzyme-linked Immunosorbent Assays

Another tool in the immunodermatology armamentarium is ELISA. Commercial ELISA systems are available for the detection of autoantibodies against bullous pemphigoid (BP) antigen 180, BP230, type VII collagen, desmoglein (Dsg) 1, Dsg3, and envoplakin.¹¹ This test allows semiquantitative measurement of antibody levels and thus can be used to monitor response to treatment or identify relapse and treatment failure.¹¹ For example, in BP, significantly increased baseline anti-BP180 IgG levels correlate with 1-year mortality rates (P=.001) and relapse rates (P=.041).^14,15 Numerous additional studies support the observation that monitoring anti-BP180 as a potential marker of disease relapse can be helpful.^16,17 In pemphigus, the presence or increase of autoantibodies at remission, either anti-Dsg3 or anti-Dsg1, may be a useful tool in predicting disease relapse.¹⁸ It is important for physicians to be aware of this to be able to offer guidance on prognosis.

Knowing where to biopsy can be confusing when beginning residency. But the short answer is, it depends. Let your clinical suspicion guide your specimen site. The Figure provides a quick reference for which location will give you the highest yield for a specific diagnosis.

A few cardinal rules should guide which site is biopsied. Avoid obtaining specimens from the lower extremities as much as possible, as this site has been linked with false-negative results, especially in bullous pemphigoid.^19,20 As a dependent area prone to stasis, this site gets a lot of abuse and inflammatory changes secondary to everyday insults that can theoretically alter DIF findings, especially fibrinogen deposition.

Although tissue sent for hematoxylin and eosin staining should be lesional, biopsy for DIF ideally should not contain a new or active blister, ulcer, erosion, or bulla. Immunoreactants are more likely to be degraded in these areas, and DIF may be falsely negative.²¹

It is worthwhile to briefly discuss the definitions of the terms perilesional and nonlesional. Perilesional skin most frequently refers to skin adjacent to a bulla or vesicle. This skin can be erythematous/inflamed or appear normal. When obtaining tissue for a diagnosis of blistering disease, the general recommendation is to obtain the biopsy from lesional nonbullous skin or perilesional uninvolved skin within 1 cm of the bulla.^22-24 The only exception to this is dermatitis herpetiformis, which is best diagnosed on tissue obtained from normal-appearing perilesional skin within 1 cm of an active lesion.²⁵ Additionally, if your patient has oral disease, the recommendation is to obtain the biopsy from nonlesional buccal mucosa, especially if there is desquamative gingivitis.^26,27

The ideal biopsy size is 4 or 5 mm. If considering both DIF and histopathology, it is best to procure 2 separate specimens. One larger biopsy can be carefully bisected in 2 but often is subject to more handling artifacts, which can affect findings. In the case of 1 biopsy bisected into 2 specimens, the punch should be at least 6 mm. Shave biopsies also can be performed as long as they extend into the reticular dermis.²³

For vasculitis, biopsies for DIF should be taken from lesions that are less than 24 hours old for highest yield, as the level of tissue immunoreactants tends to decline over time.²⁸ This guideline does differ from hematoxylin and eosin specimens sent for evaluation of vasculitis, which ideally should be lesional tissue over 72 hours old. When evaluating for lupus (including subacute cutaneous lupus, discoid lupus, and systemic lupus), DIF is more likely to be positive in well-established, active lesions.

Which Test Should I Order?

The answer to this question depends, but the use of all 3 tests has a specificity close to 100% when evaluating for autoantibody-associated diseases.²³ For autoimmune blistering disease, DIF is considered the diagnostic standard. The sensitivity of DIF for diagnosing BP is in the range of 82% to 90.5%, while specificity is 98%.^29-31 Other autoimmune blistering diseases, such as pemphigus or dermatitis herpetiformis, have even higher sensitivities and specificities. Direct immunofluorescence often is used as a screening test, but false negatives do occur.^32,33 Although rare, false positives also can occur, especially in cases of infection, and should be suspected when there is a lack of clinicopathologic correlation.³⁴ If DIF is negative but clinical suspicion remains high, IIF should be ordered to directly evaluate a patient’s serum for autoantibodies.

In acute cutaneous lupus, subacute cutaneous lupus, and discoid lupus, DIF of active lesions may be helpful if histopathologic examination of a cutaneous lupus erythematosus lesion is nondiagnostic. However, histopathologic examination of formalin-fixed tissue remains the standard for these diagnoses. In vasculitis, while DIF is not used for diagnosis, it is useful to evaluate for IgA deposition. This is important in adults, as IgA deposition has been associated with a greater risk for developing end-stage renal disease.³⁵

Final Thoughts

This is an overview of the tests available for diagnosing autoimmune blistering diseases. Residents should keep in mind that these tests are just one part of the puzzle when it comes to diagnosing these diseases. Results of DIF, IIF, and ELISA testing should be considered in conjunction with patient history and physical examination as well as histopathologic examination of lesional tissue when evaluating for dermatologic diseases with autoantibodies.

Direct immunofluorescence (DIF) is the go-to diagnostic test when evaluating vesiculobullous eruptions, connective tissue disease, and vasculitis. This specialized test allows visualization of autoantibodies and their reaction products in the epidermis and dermis (skin) and epithelium and subepithelium (mucosa). Indirect immunofluorescence (IIF) and enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay (ELISA) are additional tests that can help in the diagnosis of autoimmune blistering disease. In the blistering autoimmune diseases, the autoantibodies target components in skin and mucous membranes that are essential for cell-cell and cell-matrix adhesion causing separation within or beneath the epidermis, depending on where the target components are located. This article is intended to serve as a helpful primer for immunofluorescence testing in dermatology, with an overview of the tests available as well as pragmatic tips for optimal biopsy sites and specimen transport.

Direct Immunofluorescence

Immunofluorescence techniques date back to 1941 when Albert Coons, an American physician, pathologist, and immunologist, fluorescently labelled antibodies to visualize pneumococcal antigens in infected tissues.^1-3 In dermatology, similar methodology was used to visualize the deposition of immunoglobulins and complement in the skin of patients with systemic lupus erythematosus in 1963.⁴ Basement membrane zone antibodies were first visualized via DIF in bullous pemphigoid in 1967.⁵ This elegant test utilizes specific antibodies labeled with fluorophores that are then incubated with the patient’s tissue, ultimately forming antibody-antigen conjugates that can be visualized with a fluorescent microscope. Antibodies usually include IgG, IgM, IgA, fibrinogen, and C3. Some institutions also evaluate for IgG4.

Transport medium is critical for proper evaluation of tissues using DIF. Inappropriate storage of tissue can degrade the antigen and confuse the interpretation of specimens. An acceptable medium for DIF includes Michel transport medium, which allows tissue to be stored for days while being transported at ambient temperature without loss of signal.^6,7 Zeus medium also can be used and is more readily available. Alternatively, biopsy tissue can be snap frozen using liquid nitrogen. Specimens also may be stored on saline gauze but should be analyzed within 24 to 48 hours.⁸ Most importantly, do not place the specimen in formalin; even a brief soak in formalin can greatly alter results, especially when trying to diagnose pemphigus.⁹ Proper transport conditions are critical to prevent autolysis, mitigate putrefaction, and preserve morphology while maintaining antigenicity.¹⁰

Indirect Immunofluorescence

Indirect immunofluorescence can be helpful for detecting antibodies circulating in patient serum. Indirect immunofluorescence can be used to help diagnose pemphigoid, pemphigus, epidermolysis bullosa acquisita, bullous lupus erythematosus, and dermatitis herpetiformis. Serum testing also can be a helpful alternative when obtaining tissue is difficult, such as in children.

Indirect immunofluorescence is a 2-part technique that takes a bit longer to assay than DIF.¹¹ The first step involves incubating prepared tissue substrates with patient serum. Unlabeled antibodies in the patient serum are allowed to bind to antigens in the substrate tissue for about 30 minutes. Doubling dilutions of patient serum can be performed to titer antibody levels. The second step uses fluorescein-labeled antihuman antibodies to recognize the antigen-antibody conjugates. Normal whole tissues (eg, monkey esophagus for pemphigus vulgaris, rat bladder for paraneoplastic pemphigus, salt-split normal human skin substrate for pemphigoid and epidermolysis bullosa) are the usual substrates for testing.^11,12 Again, this test requires serum and should be collected in a red-top tube or serum-separator tube. Usually, a minimum of 0.5 mL is required for testing, but check with your preferred immunodermatology send-out laboratory before collecting.¹³

Indirect immunofluorescence usually involves an initial screening panel using 1 or 2 tissue substrates followed by individual antigen-specific assays that correspond to the clinical suspicion and IIF screening results.¹¹ Salt-split skin is used to localize basement membrane zone autoantibodies to either the epidermal (roof) or dermal (floor) side. Although many dermatopathology laboratories offer DIF testing, IIF is more specialized and may be a send-out test at your institution.

Enzyme-linked Immunosorbent Assays

Another tool in the immunodermatology armamentarium is ELISA. Commercial ELISA systems are available for the detection of autoantibodies against bullous pemphigoid (BP) antigen 180, BP230, type VII collagen, desmoglein (Dsg) 1, Dsg3, and envoplakin.¹¹ This test allows semiquantitative measurement of antibody levels and thus can be used to monitor response to treatment or identify relapse and treatment failure.¹¹ For example, in BP, significantly increased baseline anti-BP180 IgG levels correlate with 1-year mortality rates (P=.001) and relapse rates (P=.041).^14,15 Numerous additional studies support the observation that monitoring anti-BP180 as a potential marker of disease relapse can be helpful.^16,17 In pemphigus, the presence or increase of autoantibodies at remission, either anti-Dsg3 or anti-Dsg1, may be a useful tool in predicting disease relapse.¹⁸ It is important for physicians to be aware of this to be able to offer guidance on prognosis.

Knowing where to biopsy can be confusing when beginning residency. But the short answer is, it depends. Let your clinical suspicion guide your specimen site. The Figure provides a quick reference for which location will give you the highest yield for a specific diagnosis.

A few cardinal rules should guide which site is biopsied. Avoid obtaining specimens from the lower extremities as much as possible, as this site has been linked with false-negative results, especially in bullous pemphigoid.^19,20 As a dependent area prone to stasis, this site gets a lot of abuse and inflammatory changes secondary to everyday insults that can theoretically alter DIF findings, especially fibrinogen deposition.

Although tissue sent for hematoxylin and eosin staining should be lesional, biopsy for DIF ideally should not contain a new or active blister, ulcer, erosion, or bulla. Immunoreactants are more likely to be degraded in these areas, and DIF may be falsely negative.²¹

It is worthwhile to briefly discuss the definitions of the terms perilesional and nonlesional. Perilesional skin most frequently refers to skin adjacent to a bulla or vesicle. This skin can be erythematous/inflamed or appear normal. When obtaining tissue for a diagnosis of blistering disease, the general recommendation is to obtain the biopsy from lesional nonbullous skin or perilesional uninvolved skin within 1 cm of the bulla.^22-24 The only exception to this is dermatitis herpetiformis, which is best diagnosed on tissue obtained from normal-appearing perilesional skin within 1 cm of an active lesion.²⁵ Additionally, if your patient has oral disease, the recommendation is to obtain the biopsy from nonlesional buccal mucosa, especially if there is desquamative gingivitis.^26,27

The ideal biopsy size is 4 or 5 mm. If considering both DIF and histopathology, it is best to procure 2 separate specimens. One larger biopsy can be carefully bisected in 2 but often is subject to more handling artifacts, which can affect findings. In the case of 1 biopsy bisected into 2 specimens, the punch should be at least 6 mm. Shave biopsies also can be performed as long as they extend into the reticular dermis.²³

For vasculitis, biopsies for DIF should be taken from lesions that are less than 24 hours old for highest yield, as the level of tissue immunoreactants tends to decline over time.²⁸ This guideline does differ from hematoxylin and eosin specimens sent for evaluation of vasculitis, which ideally should be lesional tissue over 72 hours old. When evaluating for lupus (including subacute cutaneous lupus, discoid lupus, and systemic lupus), DIF is more likely to be positive in well-established, active lesions.

Which Test Should I Order?

The answer to this question depends, but the use of all 3 tests has a specificity close to 100% when evaluating for autoantibody-associated diseases.²³ For autoimmune blistering disease, DIF is considered the diagnostic standard. The sensitivity of DIF for diagnosing BP is in the range of 82% to 90.5%, while specificity is 98%.^29-31 Other autoimmune blistering diseases, such as pemphigus or dermatitis herpetiformis, have even higher sensitivities and specificities. Direct immunofluorescence often is used as a screening test, but false negatives do occur.^32,33 Although rare, false positives also can occur, especially in cases of infection, and should be suspected when there is a lack of clinicopathologic correlation.³⁴ If DIF is negative but clinical suspicion remains high, IIF should be ordered to directly evaluate a patient’s serum for autoantibodies.

In acute cutaneous lupus, subacute cutaneous lupus, and discoid lupus, DIF of active lesions may be helpful if histopathologic examination of a cutaneous lupus erythematosus lesion is nondiagnostic. However, histopathologic examination of formalin-fixed tissue remains the standard for these diagnoses. In vasculitis, while DIF is not used for diagnosis, it is useful to evaluate for IgA deposition. This is important in adults, as IgA deposition has been associated with a greater risk for developing end-stage renal disease.³⁵

Final Thoughts

This is an overview of the tests available for diagnosing autoimmune blistering diseases. Residents should keep in mind that these tests are just one part of the puzzle when it comes to diagnosing these diseases. Results of DIF, IIF, and ELISA testing should be considered in conjunction with patient history and physical examination as well as histopathologic examination of lesional tissue when evaluating for dermatologic diseases with autoantibodies.

"Effortless.” “Weightless.” “Limitless.” “Carefree.” In most cases, these are words one would not commonly associate with running. In fact, many people might experience an uptick in anxiety when fathoming the idea of going out for a run. Believe it or not, these words are direct quotes from runners describing the feeling of a “runner’s high”—a well-documented organic euphoria that cannot be purchased or abused. But how is the innately basic and monotonous act of running able to reliably transform something as complex as human emotion? This answer lies in the endocannabinoid system.

For decades, scientists and the public believed the runner’s high was associated with an exercise-induced increase in levels of opioid peptides called beta-endorphins. The problem with this theory is that beta-endorphin, released into the blood by the pituitary gland in response to exercise and stress, has difficulty passing through the blood-brain barrier, rendering central effects of this peripheral opioid unlikely.¹ Only recently have researchers been examining the effects of exercise as it pertains to the endocannabinoid system.² Interest in the study of this system is peaking as use of cannabis and hemp-based products reaches an all-time high.

Exploring the endocannabinoid system

Within the last 25 years, the endocannabinoid system has emerged as a highly relevant and unique neuromodulatory system. As with other neurotransmitter systems, the endocannabinoid system is comprised of the endogenous cannabinoids, their receptors, and an array of enzymes responsible for both synthesis and degradation. Endocannabinoid receptors are ubiquitous in the brain and take effect primarily in the cortex, amygdala, basal ganglia, hippocampus, hypothalamus, and cerebellum. One fascinating feature of endocannabinoids is that their precursors lie embedded within lipid membranes. Nearly on demand, endocannabinoids can be rapidly synthesized and released. This grants them almost immediate availability to get into the action at the synapse.²

One study of mice found that those who were exercised experienced improvements in anxiety behaviors and better tolerance to pain. Further, when the exercised mice were treated with endocannabinoid receptor antagonists, they remained anxious and were more sensitive to pain. Endorphin antagonists had no effect on the outcome of these tests.¹ A similar study conducted in humans found improvement in subjective anxiety scores after 45 minutes of moderate-intensity exercise. This study also showed no change with naltrexone administration vs placebo, again supporting the hypothesis that endorphins play little role in this phenomenon. Interestingly, levels of endogenous cannabinoids were elevated following exercise.³ These findings suggest a possible link between activation of the endogenous endocannabinoid system and the anxiolytic properties of exercise.

For good reason, the endocannabinoid system has attracted substantial interest as a focus for a new class of drugs to treat anxiety and stress-related disorders. It remains unknown how we can best harness its many beneficial effects in a safe and effective manner. With that said, activities such as physical exercise, mindfulness meditation, yoga, and other forms of complementary medicine are immediately available and cost-effective methods that have at least preliminary data revealing their multiple health benefits, including improvement in the symptoms of anxiety and activation of endogenous cannabinoids.^1,3-6

As we are all aware, medical training and practice is full of a variety of stresses and demands. Given these demands, finding a balance between mind, body, and spirit can seem like an impossible task. Besides the obvious physical benefits of regular exercise, running can serve to employ the stress-modifying effects of our endogenous cannabinoid system to reduce perceived anxiety and improve wellness. Indeed, at the start of any bout of exercise—especially running—the transition from rest can be startling. Rest assured that there is good news waiting beyond the first few miles. Your reward for patience and perseverance is a beautiful freedom experienced only by those who have earned it. The best part of it all? It is waiting for you right outside your door.

"Effortless.” “Weightless.” “Limitless.” “Carefree.” In most cases, these are words one would not commonly associate with running. In fact, many people might experience an uptick in anxiety when fathoming the idea of going out for a run. Believe it or not, these words are direct quotes from runners describing the feeling of a “runner’s high”—a well-documented organic euphoria that cannot be purchased or abused. But how is the innately basic and monotonous act of running able to reliably transform something as complex as human emotion? This answer lies in the endocannabinoid system.

For decades, scientists and the public believed the runner’s high was associated with an exercise-induced increase in levels of opioid peptides called beta-endorphins. The problem with this theory is that beta-endorphin, released into the blood by the pituitary gland in response to exercise and stress, has difficulty passing through the blood-brain barrier, rendering central effects of this peripheral opioid unlikely.¹ Only recently have researchers been examining the effects of exercise as it pertains to the endocannabinoid system.² Interest in the study of this system is peaking as use of cannabis and hemp-based products reaches an all-time high.

Exploring the endocannabinoid system

Within the last 25 years, the endocannabinoid system has emerged as a highly relevant and unique neuromodulatory system. As with other neurotransmitter systems, the endocannabinoid system is comprised of the endogenous cannabinoids, their receptors, and an array of enzymes responsible for both synthesis and degradation. Endocannabinoid receptors are ubiquitous in the brain and take effect primarily in the cortex, amygdala, basal ganglia, hippocampus, hypothalamus, and cerebellum. One fascinating feature of endocannabinoids is that their precursors lie embedded within lipid membranes. Nearly on demand, endocannabinoids can be rapidly synthesized and released. This grants them almost immediate availability to get into the action at the synapse.²

One study of mice found that those who were exercised experienced improvements in anxiety behaviors and better tolerance to pain. Further, when the exercised mice were treated with endocannabinoid receptor antagonists, they remained anxious and were more sensitive to pain. Endorphin antagonists had no effect on the outcome of these tests.¹ A similar study conducted in humans found improvement in subjective anxiety scores after 45 minutes of moderate-intensity exercise. This study also showed no change with naltrexone administration vs placebo, again supporting the hypothesis that endorphins play little role in this phenomenon. Interestingly, levels of endogenous cannabinoids were elevated following exercise.³ These findings suggest a possible link between activation of the endogenous endocannabinoid system and the anxiolytic properties of exercise.

For good reason, the endocannabinoid system has attracted substantial interest as a focus for a new class of drugs to treat anxiety and stress-related disorders. It remains unknown how we can best harness its many beneficial effects in a safe and effective manner. With that said, activities such as physical exercise, mindfulness meditation, yoga, and other forms of complementary medicine are immediately available and cost-effective methods that have at least preliminary data revealing their multiple health benefits, including improvement in the symptoms of anxiety and activation of endogenous cannabinoids.^1,3-6

As we are all aware, medical training and practice is full of a variety of stresses and demands. Given these demands, finding a balance between mind, body, and spirit can seem like an impossible task. Besides the obvious physical benefits of regular exercise, running can serve to employ the stress-modifying effects of our endogenous cannabinoid system to reduce perceived anxiety and improve wellness. Indeed, at the start of any bout of exercise—especially running—the transition from rest can be startling. Rest assured that there is good news waiting beyond the first few miles. Your reward for patience and perseverance is a beautiful freedom experienced only by those who have earned it. The best part of it all? It is waiting for you right outside your door.

"Effortless.” “Weightless.” “Limitless.” “Carefree.” In most cases, these are words one would not commonly associate with running. In fact, many people might experience an uptick in anxiety when fathoming the idea of going out for a run. Believe it or not, these words are direct quotes from runners describing the feeling of a “runner’s high”—a well-documented organic euphoria that cannot be purchased or abused. But how is the innately basic and monotonous act of running able to reliably transform something as complex as human emotion? This answer lies in the endocannabinoid system.

For decades, scientists and the public believed the runner’s high was associated with an exercise-induced increase in levels of opioid peptides called beta-endorphins. The problem with this theory is that beta-endorphin, released into the blood by the pituitary gland in response to exercise and stress, has difficulty passing through the blood-brain barrier, rendering central effects of this peripheral opioid unlikely.¹ Only recently have researchers been examining the effects of exercise as it pertains to the endocannabinoid system.² Interest in the study of this system is peaking as use of cannabis and hemp-based products reaches an all-time high.

Exploring the endocannabinoid system

Within the last 25 years, the endocannabinoid system has emerged as a highly relevant and unique neuromodulatory system. As with other neurotransmitter systems, the endocannabinoid system is comprised of the endogenous cannabinoids, their receptors, and an array of enzymes responsible for both synthesis and degradation. Endocannabinoid receptors are ubiquitous in the brain and take effect primarily in the cortex, amygdala, basal ganglia, hippocampus, hypothalamus, and cerebellum. One fascinating feature of endocannabinoids is that their precursors lie embedded within lipid membranes. Nearly on demand, endocannabinoids can be rapidly synthesized and released. This grants them almost immediate availability to get into the action at the synapse.²

One study of mice found that those who were exercised experienced improvements in anxiety behaviors and better tolerance to pain. Further, when the exercised mice were treated with endocannabinoid receptor antagonists, they remained anxious and were more sensitive to pain. Endorphin antagonists had no effect on the outcome of these tests.¹ A similar study conducted in humans found improvement in subjective anxiety scores after 45 minutes of moderate-intensity exercise. This study also showed no change with naltrexone administration vs placebo, again supporting the hypothesis that endorphins play little role in this phenomenon. Interestingly, levels of endogenous cannabinoids were elevated following exercise.³ These findings suggest a possible link between activation of the endogenous endocannabinoid system and the anxiolytic properties of exercise.

For good reason, the endocannabinoid system has attracted substantial interest as a focus for a new class of drugs to treat anxiety and stress-related disorders. It remains unknown how we can best harness its many beneficial effects in a safe and effective manner. With that said, activities such as physical exercise, mindfulness meditation, yoga, and other forms of complementary medicine are immediately available and cost-effective methods that have at least preliminary data revealing their multiple health benefits, including improvement in the symptoms of anxiety and activation of endogenous cannabinoids.^1,3-6

As we are all aware, medical training and practice is full of a variety of stresses and demands. Given these demands, finding a balance between mind, body, and spirit can seem like an impossible task. Besides the obvious physical benefits of regular exercise, running can serve to employ the stress-modifying effects of our endogenous cannabinoid system to reduce perceived anxiety and improve wellness. Indeed, at the start of any bout of exercise—especially running—the transition from rest can be startling. Rest assured that there is good news waiting beyond the first few miles. Your reward for patience and perseverance is a beautiful freedom experienced only by those who have earned it. The best part of it all? It is waiting for you right outside your door.

The COVID-19 pandemic has markedly changed the dermatology residency application process. As medical students head into this application cycle, the impacts of systemic racism and deeply rooted structural barriers continue to be exacerbated for students who identify as an underrepresented minority (URM) in medicine—historically defined as those who self-identify as Hispanic or Latinx; Black or African American; American Indian or Alaska Native; or Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. The Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC) defines URMs as racial and ethnic populations that are underrepresented in medicine relative to their numbers in the general population.¹ Although these groups account for approximately 34% of the population of the United States, they constitute only 11% of the country’s physician workforce.^2,3

Of the total physician workforce in the United States, Black and African American physicians account for 5% of practicing physicians; Hispanic physicians, 5.8%; American Indian and Alaska Native physicians, 0.3%; and Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander physicians, 0.1%.² In competitive medical specialties, the disproportionality of these numbers compared to our current demographics in the United States as shown above is even more staggering. In 2018, for example, 10% of practicing dermatologists identified as female URM physicians; 6%, as male URM physicians.² In this article, we discuss some of the challenges and considerations for URM students applying to dermatology residency in the era of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Barriers for URM Students in Dermatology

Multiple studies have attempted to identify some of the barriers faced by URM students in medicine that might explain the lack of diversity in competitive specialties. Vasquez and colleagues⁴ identified 4 major factors that play a role in dermatology: lack of equitable resources, lack of support, financial limitations, and the lack of group identity. More than half of URM students surveyed (1) identified lack of support as a barrier and (2) reported having been encouraged to seek a specialty more reflective of their community.⁴

Soliman et al⁵ reported that URM barriers in dermatology extend to include lack of diversity in the field, socioeconomic factors, lack of mentorship, and a negative perception of minority students by residency programs. Dermatology is the second least diverse specialty in medicine after orthopedic surgery, which, in and of itself, might further discourage URM students from applying to dermatology.⁵

With the minimal exposure that URM students have to the field of dermatology, the lack of pipeline programs, and reports that URMs often are encouraged to pursue primary care, the current diversity deficiency in dermatology comes as no surprise. In addition, the substantial disadvantage for URM students is perpetuated by the traditional highly selective process that favors grades, board scores, and honor society status over holistic assessment of the individual student and their unique experiences and potential for contribution.

Looking Beyond Test Scores

The US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) traditionally has been used to select dermatology residency applicants, with high cutoff scores often excluding outstanding URM students. Research has suggested that the use of USMLE examination test scores for residency recruitment lacks validity because it has poor predictability of residency performance.⁶ Although the USMLE Step 1 examination is transitioning to pass/fail scoring, applicants for the next cycle will still have a 3-digit numerical score.

We strongly recommend that dermatology programs transition from emphasizing scores of residency candidates to reviewing each candidate holistically. The AAMC defines “holistic review” as a “flexible, individualized way of assessing an applicant’s capabilities, by which balanced consideration is given to experiences, attributes, competencies, and academic or scholarly metrics and, when considered in combination, how the individual might contribute value to the institution’s mission.”⁷ Furthermore, we recommend that dermatology residency programs have multiple faculty members review each application, including a representative of the diversity, inclusion, and equity committee.

In the COVID-19 era, dermatology externship opportunities that would have allowed URM students to work directly with potential residency programs, showcase their abilities, and network have been limited. Virtual residency interviews could make it more challenging to evaluate candidates, especially URM students from less prestigious programs or unusual socioeconomic backgrounds, or with lower board scores. In addition, virtual interviews can more easily become one-dimensional, depriving URM students of the opportunity to gauge their personal fit in a specific dermatology residency program and its community. Questions and concerns of URM students might include: Will I be appropriately supported and mentored? Will my cultural preferences, religion, sexual preference, hairstyle, and beliefs be accepted? Can I advocate for minorities and support antiracism and diversity and inclusion initiatives? To that end, we recommend that dermatology programs continue to host virtual meet-and-greet events for potential students to meet faculty and learn more about the program. In addition, programs should consider having current residents interact virtually with candidates to allow students to better understand the culture of the department and residents’ experiences as trainees in such an environment. For URM students, this is highly important because diversity, inclusion, and antiracism policies and initiatives might not be explicitly available on the institution’s website or residency information page.

Organizations Championing Diversity

Recently, multiple dermatology societies and organizations have been emphasizing the need for diversity and inclusion as well as promoting holistic application review. The American Academy of Dermatology pioneered the Diversity Champion Workshop in 2019 and continues to offer the Diversity Mentorship program, connecting URM students to mentors nationally. The Skin of Color Society offers yearly grants and awards to medical students to develop mentorship and research, and recently hosted webinars to guide medical students and residency programs on diversity and inclusion, residency application and review, and COVID-19 virtual interviews. Other national societies, such as the Student National Medical Association and Latino Medical Student Association, have been promoting workshops and interview mentoring for URM students, including dermatology-specific events. Although it is estimated that more than 90% of medical schools in the United States already perform holistic application review and that such review has been adopted by many dermatology programs nationwide, data regarding dermatology residency programs’ implementation of holistic application review are lacking.⁸

In addition, we encourage continuation of the proposed coordinated interview invite release from the Association of Professors of Dermatology, which was implemented in the 2020-2021 cycle. In light of the recent AAMC letter⁹ on the maldistribution of interview invitations to highest-tier applicants, coordination of interview release dates and other similar initiatives to prevent programs from offering more invites than their available slots and improve transparency about interview days are needed. Furthermore, continuing to offer optional virtual interviews for applicants in future cycles could make the process less cost-prohibitive for many URM students.^4,5

Final Thoughts

Dermatology residency programs must intentionally guard against falling back to traditional standards of assessment as the only means of student evaluation, especially in this virtual era. It is our responsibility to remove artificial barriers that continue to stall progress in diversity, inclusion, equity, and belonging in dermatology.

The COVID-19 pandemic has markedly changed the dermatology residency application process. As medical students head into this application cycle, the impacts of systemic racism and deeply rooted structural barriers continue to be exacerbated for students who identify as an underrepresented minority (URM) in medicine—historically defined as those who self-identify as Hispanic or Latinx; Black or African American; American Indian or Alaska Native; or Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. The Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC) defines URMs as racial and ethnic populations that are underrepresented in medicine relative to their numbers in the general population.¹ Although these groups account for approximately 34% of the population of the United States, they constitute only 11% of the country’s physician workforce.^2,3

Of the total physician workforce in the United States, Black and African American physicians account for 5% of practicing physicians; Hispanic physicians, 5.8%; American Indian and Alaska Native physicians, 0.3%; and Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander physicians, 0.1%.² In competitive medical specialties, the disproportionality of these numbers compared to our current demographics in the United States as shown above is even more staggering. In 2018, for example, 10% of practicing dermatologists identified as female URM physicians; 6%, as male URM physicians.² In this article, we discuss some of the challenges and considerations for URM students applying to dermatology residency in the era of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Barriers for URM Students in Dermatology

Multiple studies have attempted to identify some of the barriers faced by URM students in medicine that might explain the lack of diversity in competitive specialties. Vasquez and colleagues⁴ identified 4 major factors that play a role in dermatology: lack of equitable resources, lack of support, financial limitations, and the lack of group identity. More than half of URM students surveyed (1) identified lack of support as a barrier and (2) reported having been encouraged to seek a specialty more reflective of their community.⁴

Soliman et al⁵ reported that URM barriers in dermatology extend to include lack of diversity in the field, socioeconomic factors, lack of mentorship, and a negative perception of minority students by residency programs. Dermatology is the second least diverse specialty in medicine after orthopedic surgery, which, in and of itself, might further discourage URM students from applying to dermatology.⁵

With the minimal exposure that URM students have to the field of dermatology, the lack of pipeline programs, and reports that URMs often are encouraged to pursue primary care, the current diversity deficiency in dermatology comes as no surprise. In addition, the substantial disadvantage for URM students is perpetuated by the traditional highly selective process that favors grades, board scores, and honor society status over holistic assessment of the individual student and their unique experiences and potential for contribution.

Looking Beyond Test Scores

The US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) traditionally has been used to select dermatology residency applicants, with high cutoff scores often excluding outstanding URM students. Research has suggested that the use of USMLE examination test scores for residency recruitment lacks validity because it has poor predictability of residency performance.⁶ Although the USMLE Step 1 examination is transitioning to pass/fail scoring, applicants for the next cycle will still have a 3-digit numerical score.

We strongly recommend that dermatology programs transition from emphasizing scores of residency candidates to reviewing each candidate holistically. The AAMC defines “holistic review” as a “flexible, individualized way of assessing an applicant’s capabilities, by which balanced consideration is given to experiences, attributes, competencies, and academic or scholarly metrics and, when considered in combination, how the individual might contribute value to the institution’s mission.”⁷ Furthermore, we recommend that dermatology residency programs have multiple faculty members review each application, including a representative of the diversity, inclusion, and equity committee.

In the COVID-19 era, dermatology externship opportunities that would have allowed URM students to work directly with potential residency programs, showcase their abilities, and network have been limited. Virtual residency interviews could make it more challenging to evaluate candidates, especially URM students from less prestigious programs or unusual socioeconomic backgrounds, or with lower board scores. In addition, virtual interviews can more easily become one-dimensional, depriving URM students of the opportunity to gauge their personal fit in a specific dermatology residency program and its community. Questions and concerns of URM students might include: Will I be appropriately supported and mentored? Will my cultural preferences, religion, sexual preference, hairstyle, and beliefs be accepted? Can I advocate for minorities and support antiracism and diversity and inclusion initiatives? To that end, we recommend that dermatology programs continue to host virtual meet-and-greet events for potential students to meet faculty and learn more about the program. In addition, programs should consider having current residents interact virtually with candidates to allow students to better understand the culture of the department and residents’ experiences as trainees in such an environment. For URM students, this is highly important because diversity, inclusion, and antiracism policies and initiatives might not be explicitly available on the institution’s website or residency information page.

Organizations Championing Diversity

Recently, multiple dermatology societies and organizations have been emphasizing the need for diversity and inclusion as well as promoting holistic application review. The American Academy of Dermatology pioneered the Diversity Champion Workshop in 2019 and continues to offer the Diversity Mentorship program, connecting URM students to mentors nationally. The Skin of Color Society offers yearly grants and awards to medical students to develop mentorship and research, and recently hosted webinars to guide medical students and residency programs on diversity and inclusion, residency application and review, and COVID-19 virtual interviews. Other national societies, such as the Student National Medical Association and Latino Medical Student Association, have been promoting workshops and interview mentoring for URM students, including dermatology-specific events. Although it is estimated that more than 90% of medical schools in the United States already perform holistic application review and that such review has been adopted by many dermatology programs nationwide, data regarding dermatology residency programs’ implementation of holistic application review are lacking.⁸

In addition, we encourage continuation of the proposed coordinated interview invite release from the Association of Professors of Dermatology, which was implemented in the 2020-2021 cycle. In light of the recent AAMC letter⁹ on the maldistribution of interview invitations to highest-tier applicants, coordination of interview release dates and other similar initiatives to prevent programs from offering more invites than their available slots and improve transparency about interview days are needed. Furthermore, continuing to offer optional virtual interviews for applicants in future cycles could make the process less cost-prohibitive for many URM students.^4,5

Final Thoughts

Dermatology residency programs must intentionally guard against falling back to traditional standards of assessment as the only means of student evaluation, especially in this virtual era. It is our responsibility to remove artificial barriers that continue to stall progress in diversity, inclusion, equity, and belonging in dermatology.

The COVID-19 pandemic has markedly changed the dermatology residency application process. As medical students head into this application cycle, the impacts of systemic racism and deeply rooted structural barriers continue to be exacerbated for students who identify as an underrepresented minority (URM) in medicine—historically defined as those who self-identify as Hispanic or Latinx; Black or African American; American Indian or Alaska Native; or Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. The Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC) defines URMs as racial and ethnic populations that are underrepresented in medicine relative to their numbers in the general population.¹ Although these groups account for approximately 34% of the population of the United States, they constitute only 11% of the country’s physician workforce.^2,3

Of the total physician workforce in the United States, Black and African American physicians account for 5% of practicing physicians; Hispanic physicians, 5.8%; American Indian and Alaska Native physicians, 0.3%; and Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander physicians, 0.1%.² In competitive medical specialties, the disproportionality of these numbers compared to our current demographics in the United States as shown above is even more staggering. In 2018, for example, 10% of practicing dermatologists identified as female URM physicians; 6%, as male URM physicians.² In this article, we discuss some of the challenges and considerations for URM students applying to dermatology residency in the era of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Barriers for URM Students in Dermatology

Multiple studies have attempted to identify some of the barriers faced by URM students in medicine that might explain the lack of diversity in competitive specialties. Vasquez and colleagues⁴ identified 4 major factors that play a role in dermatology: lack of equitable resources, lack of support, financial limitations, and the lack of group identity. More than half of URM students surveyed (1) identified lack of support as a barrier and (2) reported having been encouraged to seek a specialty more reflective of their community.⁴

Soliman et al⁵ reported that URM barriers in dermatology extend to include lack of diversity in the field, socioeconomic factors, lack of mentorship, and a negative perception of minority students by residency programs. Dermatology is the second least diverse specialty in medicine after orthopedic surgery, which, in and of itself, might further discourage URM students from applying to dermatology.⁵

With the minimal exposure that URM students have to the field of dermatology, the lack of pipeline programs, and reports that URMs often are encouraged to pursue primary care, the current diversity deficiency in dermatology comes as no surprise. In addition, the substantial disadvantage for URM students is perpetuated by the traditional highly selective process that favors grades, board scores, and honor society status over holistic assessment of the individual student and their unique experiences and potential for contribution.

Looking Beyond Test Scores

The US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) traditionally has been used to select dermatology residency applicants, with high cutoff scores often excluding outstanding URM students. Research has suggested that the use of USMLE examination test scores for residency recruitment lacks validity because it has poor predictability of residency performance.⁶ Although the USMLE Step 1 examination is transitioning to pass/fail scoring, applicants for the next cycle will still have a 3-digit numerical score.

We strongly recommend that dermatology programs transition from emphasizing scores of residency candidates to reviewing each candidate holistically. The AAMC defines “holistic review” as a “flexible, individualized way of assessing an applicant’s capabilities, by which balanced consideration is given to experiences, attributes, competencies, and academic or scholarly metrics and, when considered in combination, how the individual might contribute value to the institution’s mission.”⁷ Furthermore, we recommend that dermatology residency programs have multiple faculty members review each application, including a representative of the diversity, inclusion, and equity committee.

In the COVID-19 era, dermatology externship opportunities that would have allowed URM students to work directly with potential residency programs, showcase their abilities, and network have been limited. Virtual residency interviews could make it more challenging to evaluate candidates, especially URM students from less prestigious programs or unusual socioeconomic backgrounds, or with lower board scores. In addition, virtual interviews can more easily become one-dimensional, depriving URM students of the opportunity to gauge their personal fit in a specific dermatology residency program and its community. Questions and concerns of URM students might include: Will I be appropriately supported and mentored? Will my cultural preferences, religion, sexual preference, hairstyle, and beliefs be accepted? Can I advocate for minorities and support antiracism and diversity and inclusion initiatives? To that end, we recommend that dermatology programs continue to host virtual meet-and-greet events for potential students to meet faculty and learn more about the program. In addition, programs should consider having current residents interact virtually with candidates to allow students to better understand the culture of the department and residents’ experiences as trainees in such an environment. For URM students, this is highly important because diversity, inclusion, and antiracism policies and initiatives might not be explicitly available on the institution’s website or residency information page.

Organizations Championing Diversity

Recently, multiple dermatology societies and organizations have been emphasizing the need for diversity and inclusion as well as promoting holistic application review. The American Academy of Dermatology pioneered the Diversity Champion Workshop in 2019 and continues to offer the Diversity Mentorship program, connecting URM students to mentors nationally. The Skin of Color Society offers yearly grants and awards to medical students to develop mentorship and research, and recently hosted webinars to guide medical students and residency programs on diversity and inclusion, residency application and review, and COVID-19 virtual interviews. Other national societies, such as the Student National Medical Association and Latino Medical Student Association, have been promoting workshops and interview mentoring for URM students, including dermatology-specific events. Although it is estimated that more than 90% of medical schools in the United States already perform holistic application review and that such review has been adopted by many dermatology programs nationwide, data regarding dermatology residency programs’ implementation of holistic application review are lacking.⁸

In addition, we encourage continuation of the proposed coordinated interview invite release from the Association of Professors of Dermatology, which was implemented in the 2020-2021 cycle. In light of the recent AAMC letter⁹ on the maldistribution of interview invitations to highest-tier applicants, coordination of interview release dates and other similar initiatives to prevent programs from offering more invites than their available slots and improve transparency about interview days are needed. Furthermore, continuing to offer optional virtual interviews for applicants in future cycles could make the process less cost-prohibitive for many URM students.^4,5

Final Thoughts

Dermatology residency programs must intentionally guard against falling back to traditional standards of assessment as the only means of student evaluation, especially in this virtual era. It is our responsibility to remove artificial barriers that continue to stall progress in diversity, inclusion, equity, and belonging in dermatology.

A ccording to the US Census Bureau, more than half of all Americans are projected to belong to a minority group, defined as any group other than non-Hispanic White alone, by 2044. ¹ Consequently, the United States rapidly is becoming a country in which the majority of citizens will have skin of color. Individuals with skin of color are of diverse ethnic backgrounds and include people of African, Latin American, Native American, Pacific Islander, and Asian descent, as well as interethnic backgrounds. ² Throughout the country, dermatologists along with primary care practitioners may be confronted with certain cutaneous conditions that have varying disease presentations or processes in patients with skin of color. It also is important to note that racial categories are socially rather than biologically constructed, and the term skin of color includes a wide variety of diverse skin types. Nevertheless, the current literature thoroughly supports unique pathophysiologic differences in skin of color as well as variations in disease manifestation compared to White patients. ^3-5 For example, the increased lability of melanosomes in skin of color patients, which increases their risk for postinflammatory hyperpigmentation, has been well documented. ^5-7 There are various dermatologic conditions that also occur with higher frequency and manifest uniquely in people with darker, more pigmented skin, ^7-9 and dermatologists, along with primary care physicians, should feel prepared to recognize and address them.

Extensive evidence also indicates that there are unique aspects to consider while managing certain skin diseases in patients with skin of color.^8,10,11 Consequently, as noted on the Skin of Color Society (SOCS) website, “[a]n increase in the body of dermatological literature concerning skin of color as well as the advancement of both basic science and clinical investigational research is necessary to meet the needs of the expanding skin of color population.”² In the meantime, current knowledge regarding cutaneous conditions that diversely or disproportionately affect skin of color should be actively disseminated to physicians in training. Although patients with skin of color should always have access to comprehensive care and knowledgeable practitioners, the current changes in national and regional demographics further underscore the need for a more thorough understanding of skin of color with regard to disease pathogenesis, diagnosis, and treatment.

Several studies have found that medical students in the United States are minimally exposed to dermatology in general compared to other clinical specialties,^12-14 which can easily lead to the underrecognition of disorders that may uniquely or disproportionately affect individuals with pigmented skin. Recent data showed that medical schools typically required fewer than 10 hours of dermatology instruction,¹² and on average, dermatologic training made up less than 1% of a medical student’s undergraduate medical education.^13,15,16 Consequently, less than 40% of primary care residents felt that their medical school curriculum adequately prepared them to manage common skin conditions.¹⁴ Although not all physicians should be expected to fully grasp the complexities of skin of color and its diagnostic and therapeutic implications, both practicing and training dermatologists have acknowledged a lack of exposure to skin of color. In one study, approximately 47% of dermatologists and dermatology residents reported that their medical training (medical school and/or residency) was inadequate in training them on skin conditions in Black patients. Furthermore, many who felt their training was lacking in skin of color identified the need for greater exposure to Black patients and training materials.¹⁵ The absence of comprehensive medical education regarding skin of color ultimately can be a disadvantage for both practitioners and patients, resulting in poorer outcomes. Furthermore, underrepresentation of skin of color may persist beyond undergraduate and graduate medical education. There also is evidence to suggest that noninclusion of skin of color pervades foundational dermatologic educational resources, including commonly used textbooks as well as continuing medical education disseminated at national conferences and meetings.¹⁷ Taken together, these findings highlight the need for more diverse and representative exposure to skin of color throughout medical training, which begins with a diverse inclusive undergraduate medical education in dermatology.

The objective of this study was to determine if the preclinical dermatology curriculum at 3 US medical schools provided adequate representation of skin of color patients in their didactic presentation slides.

Methods

Participants—Three US medical schools, a blend of private and public medical schools located across different geographic boundaries, agreed to participate in the study. All 3 institutions were current members of the American Medical Association (AMA) Accelerating Change in Medical Education consortium, whose primary goal is to create the medical school of the future and transform physician training.¹⁸ All 32 member institutions of the AMA consortium were contacted to request their participation in the study. As part of the consortium, these institutions have vowed to collectively work to develop and share the best models for educational advancement to improve care for patients, populations, and communities¹⁸ and would expectedly provide a more racially and ethnically inclusive curriculum than an institution not accountable to a group dedicated to identifying the best ways to deliver care for increasingly diverse communities.

Data Collection—Lectures were included if they were presented during dermatology preclinical courses in the 2015 to 2016 academic year. An uninvolved third party removed the names and identities of instructors to preserve anonymity. Two independent coders from different institutions extracted the data—lecture title, total number of clinical and histologic images, and number of skin of color images—from each of the anonymized lectures using a standardized coding form. We documented differences in skin of color noted in lectures and the disease context for the discussed differences, such as variations in clinical presentation, disease process, epidemiology/risk, and treatment between different skin phenotypes or ethnic groups. Photographs in which the coders were unable to differentiate whether the patient had skin of color were designated as indeterminate or unclear. Photographs appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin types IV, V, and VI¹⁹ were categorically designated as skin of color, and those appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin types I and II were described as not skin of color; however, images appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin type III often were classified as not skin of color or indeterminate and occasionally skin of color. The Figure shows examples of images classified as skin of color, indeterminate, and not skin of color. Photographs often were classified as indeterminate due to poor lighting, close-up view photographs, or highlighted pathology obscuring the surrounding skin. We excluded duplicate photographs and histologic images from the analyses.

We also reviewed 19 conditions previously highlighted by the SOCS as areas of importance to skin of color patients.²⁰ The coders tracked how many of these conditions were noted in each lecture. Duplicate discussion of these conditions was not included in the analyses. Any discrepancies between coders were resolved through additional slide review and discussion. The final coded data with the agreed upon changes were used for statistical analyses. Recent national demographic data from the US Census Bureau in 2019 describe approximately 39.9% of the population as belonging to racial/ethnic groups other than non-Hispanic/Latinx White.²¹ Consequently, the standard for adequate representation for skin of color photographs was set at 35% for the purpose of this study.

Across all 3 institutions included in the study, the proportion of the total number of clinical photographs showing skin of color was 16% (290/1812). Eight percent of the total photographs (145/1812) were noted to be indeterminate (Table). For institution 1, 23.6% of photographs (155/658) showed skin of color, and 12.6% (83/658) were indeterminate. For institution 2, 13.1% (76/578) showed skin of color and 7.8% (45/578) were indeterminate. For institution 3, 10.2% (59/576) showed skin of color and 3% (17/576) were indeterminate.

Institutions 1, 2, and 3 had 18, 8, and 17 total dermatology lectures, respectively. Of the 19 conditions designated as areas of importance to skin of color patients by the SOCS, 16 (84.2%) were discussed by institution 1, 11 (57.9%) by institution 2, and 9 (47.4%) by institution 3 (eTable 1). Institution 3 did not include photographs of skin of color patients in its acne, psoriasis, or cutaneous malignancy lectures. Institution 1 also did not include any skin of color patients in its malignancy lecture. Lectures that focused on pigmentary disorders, atopic dermatitis, infectious conditions, and benign cutaneous neoplasms were more likely to display photographs of skin of color patients; for example, lectures that discussed infectious conditions, such as superficial mycoses, herpes viruses, human papillomavirus, syphilis, and atypical mycobacterial infections, were consistently among those with higher proportions of photographs of skin of color patients.

Throughout the entire preclinical dermatology course at all 3 institutions, of 2945 lecture slides, only 24 (0.8%) unique differences were noted between skin color and non–skin of color patients, with 10 total differences noted by institution 1, 6 by institution 2, and 8 by institution 3 (Table). The majority of these differences (19/24) were related to epidemiologic differences in prevalence among varying racial/ethnic groups, with only 5 instances highlighting differences in clinical presentation. There was only a single instance that elaborated on the underlying pathophysiologic mechanisms of the discussed difference. Of all 24 unique differences discussed, 8 were related to skin cancer, 3 were related to dermatitis, and 2 were related to the difference in manifestation of erythema in patients with darker skin (eTable 2).

Comment

The results of this study demonstrated that skin of color is underrepresented in the preclinical dermatology curriculum at these 3 institutions. Although only 16% of all included clinical photographs were of skin of color, individuals with skin of color will soon represent more than half of the total US population within the next 2 decades.¹ To increase representation of skin of color patients, teaching faculty should consciously and deliberately include more photographs of skin of color patients for a wider variety of common conditions, including atopic dermatitis and psoriasis, in addition to those that tend to disparately affect skin of color patients, such as pseudofolliculitis barbae or melasma. Furthermore, they also can incorporate more detailed discussions about important differences seen in skin of color patients.

More Skin of Color Photographs in Psoriasis Lectures—At institution 3, there were no skin of color patients included in the psoriasis lecture, even though there is considerable data in the literature indicating notable differences in the clinical presentation, quality-of-life impact, and treatment of psoriasis in skin of color patients.^11,22 There are multiple nuances in psoriasis manifestation in patients with skin of color, including less-conspicuous erythema in darker skin, higher degrees of dyspigmentation, and greater body surface area involvement. For Black patients with scalp psoriasis, the impact of hair texture, styling practices, and washing frequency are additional considerations that may impact disease severity and selection of topical therapy.¹¹ The lack of inclusion of any skin of color patients in the psoriasis lecture at one institution further underscores the pressing need to prioritize communities of color in medical education.

More Skin of Color Photographs in Cutaneous Malignancy Lectures—Similarly, while a lecturer at institution 2 noted that acral lentiginous melanoma accounts for a considerable proportion of melanoma among skin of color patients,²³ there was no mention of how melanoma generally is substantially more deadly in this population, potentially due to decreased awareness and inconsistent screening.²⁴ Furthermore, at institutions 1 and 3, there were no photographs or discussion of skin of color patients during the cutaneous malignancy lectures. Evidence shows that more emphasis is needed for melanoma screening and awareness in skin of color populations to improve survival outcomes,²⁴ and this begins with educating not only future dermatologists but all future physicians as well. The failure to include photographs of skin of color patients in discussions or lectures regarding cutaneous malignancies may serve to further perpetuate the harmful misperception that individuals with skin of color are unaffected by skin cancer.^25,26

Analysis of Skin of Color Photographs in Infectious Disease Lectures—In addition, lectures discussing infectious etiologies were among those with the highest proportion of skin of color photographs. This relatively disproportionate representation of skin of color compared to the other lectures may contribute to the development of harmful stereotypes or the stigmatization of skin of color patients. Although skin of color should continue to be represented in similar lectures, teaching faculty should remain mindful of the potential unintended impact from lectures including relatively disproportionate amounts of skin of color, particularly when other lectures may have sparse to absent representation of skin of color.

More Photographs Available for Education—Overall, our findings may help to inform changes to preclinical dermatology medical education at other institutions to create more inclusive and representative curricula for skin of color patients. The ability of instructors to provide visual representation of various dermatologic conditions may be limited by the photographs available in certain textbooks with few examples of patients with skin of color; however, concerns regarding the lack of skin of color representation in dermatology training is not a novel discussion.¹⁷ Although it is the responsibility of all dermatologists to advocate for the inclusion of skin of color, many dermatologists of color have been leading the way in this movement for decades, publishing several textbooks to document various skin conditions in those with darker skin types and discuss unique considerations for patients with skin of color.^27-29 Images from these textbooks can be utilized by programs to increase representation of skin of color in dermatology training. There also are multiple expanding online dermatologic databases, such as VisualDx, with an increasing focus on skin of color patients, some of which allow users to filter images by degree of skin pigmentation.³⁰ Moreover, instructors also can work to diversify their curricula by highlighting more of the SOCS conditions of importance to skin of color patients, which have since been renamed and highlighted on the Patient Dermatology Education section of the SOCS website.²⁰ These conditions, while not completely comprehensive, provide a useful starting point for medical educators to reevaluate for potential areas of improvement and inclusion.

There are several potential strategies that can be used to better represent skin of color in dermatologic preclinical medical education, including increasing awareness, especially among dermatology teaching faculty, of existing disparities in the representation of skin of color in the preclinical curricula. Additionally, all dermatology teaching materials could be reviewed at the department level prior to being disseminated to medical students to assess for instances in which skin of color could be prioritized for discussion or varying disease presentations in skin of color could be demonstrated. Finally, teaching faculty may consider photographing more clinical images of their skin of color patients to further develop a catalog of diverse images that can be used to teach students.

Study Limitations—Our study was unable to account for verbal discussion of skin of color not otherwise denoted or captured in lecture slides. Additional limitations include the utilization of Fitzpatrick skin types to describe and differentiate varying skin tones, as the Fitzpatrick scale originally was developed as a method to describe an individual’s response to UV exposure.¹⁹ The inability to further delineate the representation of darker skin types, such as those that may be classified as Fitzpatrick skin types V or VI,¹⁹ compared to those with lighter skin of color also was a limiting factor. This study was unable to assess for discussion of other common conditions affecting skin of color patients that were not listed as one of the priority conditions by SOCS. Photographs that were designated as indeterminate were difficult to elucidate as skin of color; however, it is possible that instructors may have verbally described these images as skin of color during lectures. Nonetheless, it may be beneficial for learners if teaching faculty were to clearly label instances where skin of color patients are shown or when notable differences are present.

Future studies would benefit from the inclusion of audio data from lectures, syllabi, and small group teaching materials from preclinical courses to more accurately assess representation of skin of color in dermatology training. Additionally, future studies also may expand to include images from lectures of overlapping clinical specialties, particularly infectious disease and rheumatology, to provide a broader assessment of skin of color exposure. Furthermore, repeat assessment may be beneficial to assess the longitudinal effectiveness of curricular changes at the institutions included in this study, comparing older lectures to more recent, updated lectures. This study also may be replicated at other medical schools to allow for wider comparison of curricula.

Acknowledgment—The authors wish to thank the institutions that offered and agreed to participate in this study with the hopes of improving medical education.

A ccording to the US Census Bureau, more than half of all Americans are projected to belong to a minority group, defined as any group other than non-Hispanic White alone, by 2044. ¹ Consequently, the United States rapidly is becoming a country in which the majority of citizens will have skin of color. Individuals with skin of color are of diverse ethnic backgrounds and include people of African, Latin American, Native American, Pacific Islander, and Asian descent, as well as interethnic backgrounds. ² Throughout the country, dermatologists along with primary care practitioners may be confronted with certain cutaneous conditions that have varying disease presentations or processes in patients with skin of color. It also is important to note that racial categories are socially rather than biologically constructed, and the term skin of color includes a wide variety of diverse skin types. Nevertheless, the current literature thoroughly supports unique pathophysiologic differences in skin of color as well as variations in disease manifestation compared to White patients. ^3-5 For example, the increased lability of melanosomes in skin of color patients, which increases their risk for postinflammatory hyperpigmentation, has been well documented. ^5-7 There are various dermatologic conditions that also occur with higher frequency and manifest uniquely in people with darker, more pigmented skin, ^7-9 and dermatologists, along with primary care physicians, should feel prepared to recognize and address them.

Extensive evidence also indicates that there are unique aspects to consider while managing certain skin diseases in patients with skin of color.^8,10,11 Consequently, as noted on the Skin of Color Society (SOCS) website, “[a]n increase in the body of dermatological literature concerning skin of color as well as the advancement of both basic science and clinical investigational research is necessary to meet the needs of the expanding skin of color population.”² In the meantime, current knowledge regarding cutaneous conditions that diversely or disproportionately affect skin of color should be actively disseminated to physicians in training. Although patients with skin of color should always have access to comprehensive care and knowledgeable practitioners, the current changes in national and regional demographics further underscore the need for a more thorough understanding of skin of color with regard to disease pathogenesis, diagnosis, and treatment.

Several studies have found that medical students in the United States are minimally exposed to dermatology in general compared to other clinical specialties,^12-14 which can easily lead to the underrecognition of disorders that may uniquely or disproportionately affect individuals with pigmented skin. Recent data showed that medical schools typically required fewer than 10 hours of dermatology instruction,¹² and on average, dermatologic training made up less than 1% of a medical student’s undergraduate medical education.^13,15,16 Consequently, less than 40% of primary care residents felt that their medical school curriculum adequately prepared them to manage common skin conditions.¹⁴ Although not all physicians should be expected to fully grasp the complexities of skin of color and its diagnostic and therapeutic implications, both practicing and training dermatologists have acknowledged a lack of exposure to skin of color. In one study, approximately 47% of dermatologists and dermatology residents reported that their medical training (medical school and/or residency) was inadequate in training them on skin conditions in Black patients. Furthermore, many who felt their training was lacking in skin of color identified the need for greater exposure to Black patients and training materials.¹⁵ The absence of comprehensive medical education regarding skin of color ultimately can be a disadvantage for both practitioners and patients, resulting in poorer outcomes. Furthermore, underrepresentation of skin of color may persist beyond undergraduate and graduate medical education. There also is evidence to suggest that noninclusion of skin of color pervades foundational dermatologic educational resources, including commonly used textbooks as well as continuing medical education disseminated at national conferences and meetings.¹⁷ Taken together, these findings highlight the need for more diverse and representative exposure to skin of color throughout medical training, which begins with a diverse inclusive undergraduate medical education in dermatology.

The objective of this study was to determine if the preclinical dermatology curriculum at 3 US medical schools provided adequate representation of skin of color patients in their didactic presentation slides.

Methods

Participants—Three US medical schools, a blend of private and public medical schools located across different geographic boundaries, agreed to participate in the study. All 3 institutions were current members of the American Medical Association (AMA) Accelerating Change in Medical Education consortium, whose primary goal is to create the medical school of the future and transform physician training.¹⁸ All 32 member institutions of the AMA consortium were contacted to request their participation in the study. As part of the consortium, these institutions have vowed to collectively work to develop and share the best models for educational advancement to improve care for patients, populations, and communities¹⁸ and would expectedly provide a more racially and ethnically inclusive curriculum than an institution not accountable to a group dedicated to identifying the best ways to deliver care for increasingly diverse communities.

Data Collection—Lectures were included if they were presented during dermatology preclinical courses in the 2015 to 2016 academic year. An uninvolved third party removed the names and identities of instructors to preserve anonymity. Two independent coders from different institutions extracted the data—lecture title, total number of clinical and histologic images, and number of skin of color images—from each of the anonymized lectures using a standardized coding form. We documented differences in skin of color noted in lectures and the disease context for the discussed differences, such as variations in clinical presentation, disease process, epidemiology/risk, and treatment between different skin phenotypes or ethnic groups. Photographs in which the coders were unable to differentiate whether the patient had skin of color were designated as indeterminate or unclear. Photographs appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin types IV, V, and VI¹⁹ were categorically designated as skin of color, and those appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin types I and II were described as not skin of color; however, images appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin type III often were classified as not skin of color or indeterminate and occasionally skin of color. The Figure shows examples of images classified as skin of color, indeterminate, and not skin of color. Photographs often were classified as indeterminate due to poor lighting, close-up view photographs, or highlighted pathology obscuring the surrounding skin. We excluded duplicate photographs and histologic images from the analyses.

We also reviewed 19 conditions previously highlighted by the SOCS as areas of importance to skin of color patients.²⁰ The coders tracked how many of these conditions were noted in each lecture. Duplicate discussion of these conditions was not included in the analyses. Any discrepancies between coders were resolved through additional slide review and discussion. The final coded data with the agreed upon changes were used for statistical analyses. Recent national demographic data from the US Census Bureau in 2019 describe approximately 39.9% of the population as belonging to racial/ethnic groups other than non-Hispanic/Latinx White.²¹ Consequently, the standard for adequate representation for skin of color photographs was set at 35% for the purpose of this study.

Across all 3 institutions included in the study, the proportion of the total number of clinical photographs showing skin of color was 16% (290/1812). Eight percent of the total photographs (145/1812) were noted to be indeterminate (Table). For institution 1, 23.6% of photographs (155/658) showed skin of color, and 12.6% (83/658) were indeterminate. For institution 2, 13.1% (76/578) showed skin of color and 7.8% (45/578) were indeterminate. For institution 3, 10.2% (59/576) showed skin of color and 3% (17/576) were indeterminate.

Institutions 1, 2, and 3 had 18, 8, and 17 total dermatology lectures, respectively. Of the 19 conditions designated as areas of importance to skin of color patients by the SOCS, 16 (84.2%) were discussed by institution 1, 11 (57.9%) by institution 2, and 9 (47.4%) by institution 3 (eTable 1). Institution 3 did not include photographs of skin of color patients in its acne, psoriasis, or cutaneous malignancy lectures. Institution 1 also did not include any skin of color patients in its malignancy lecture. Lectures that focused on pigmentary disorders, atopic dermatitis, infectious conditions, and benign cutaneous neoplasms were more likely to display photographs of skin of color patients; for example, lectures that discussed infectious conditions, such as superficial mycoses, herpes viruses, human papillomavirus, syphilis, and atypical mycobacterial infections, were consistently among those with higher proportions of photographs of skin of color patients.

Throughout the entire preclinical dermatology course at all 3 institutions, of 2945 lecture slides, only 24 (0.8%) unique differences were noted between skin color and non–skin of color patients, with 10 total differences noted by institution 1, 6 by institution 2, and 8 by institution 3 (Table). The majority of these differences (19/24) were related to epidemiologic differences in prevalence among varying racial/ethnic groups, with only 5 instances highlighting differences in clinical presentation. There was only a single instance that elaborated on the underlying pathophysiologic mechanisms of the discussed difference. Of all 24 unique differences discussed, 8 were related to skin cancer, 3 were related to dermatitis, and 2 were related to the difference in manifestation of erythema in patients with darker skin (eTable 2).

Comment

The results of this study demonstrated that skin of color is underrepresented in the preclinical dermatology curriculum at these 3 institutions. Although only 16% of all included clinical photographs were of skin of color, individuals with skin of color will soon represent more than half of the total US population within the next 2 decades.¹ To increase representation of skin of color patients, teaching faculty should consciously and deliberately include more photographs of skin of color patients for a wider variety of common conditions, including atopic dermatitis and psoriasis, in addition to those that tend to disparately affect skin of color patients, such as pseudofolliculitis barbae or melasma. Furthermore, they also can incorporate more detailed discussions about important differences seen in skin of color patients.

More Skin of Color Photographs in Psoriasis Lectures—At institution 3, there were no skin of color patients included in the psoriasis lecture, even though there is considerable data in the literature indicating notable differences in the clinical presentation, quality-of-life impact, and treatment of psoriasis in skin of color patients.^11,22 There are multiple nuances in psoriasis manifestation in patients with skin of color, including less-conspicuous erythema in darker skin, higher degrees of dyspigmentation, and greater body surface area involvement. For Black patients with scalp psoriasis, the impact of hair texture, styling practices, and washing frequency are additional considerations that may impact disease severity and selection of topical therapy.¹¹ The lack of inclusion of any skin of color patients in the psoriasis lecture at one institution further underscores the pressing need to prioritize communities of color in medical education.

More Skin of Color Photographs in Cutaneous Malignancy Lectures—Similarly, while a lecturer at institution 2 noted that acral lentiginous melanoma accounts for a considerable proportion of melanoma among skin of color patients,²³ there was no mention of how melanoma generally is substantially more deadly in this population, potentially due to decreased awareness and inconsistent screening.²⁴ Furthermore, at institutions 1 and 3, there were no photographs or discussion of skin of color patients during the cutaneous malignancy lectures. Evidence shows that more emphasis is needed for melanoma screening and awareness in skin of color populations to improve survival outcomes,²⁴ and this begins with educating not only future dermatologists but all future physicians as well. The failure to include photographs of skin of color patients in discussions or lectures regarding cutaneous malignancies may serve to further perpetuate the harmful misperception that individuals with skin of color are unaffected by skin cancer.^25,26

Analysis of Skin of Color Photographs in Infectious Disease Lectures—In addition, lectures discussing infectious etiologies were among those with the highest proportion of skin of color photographs. This relatively disproportionate representation of skin of color compared to the other lectures may contribute to the development of harmful stereotypes or the stigmatization of skin of color patients. Although skin of color should continue to be represented in similar lectures, teaching faculty should remain mindful of the potential unintended impact from lectures including relatively disproportionate amounts of skin of color, particularly when other lectures may have sparse to absent representation of skin of color.

More Photographs Available for Education—Overall, our findings may help to inform changes to preclinical dermatology medical education at other institutions to create more inclusive and representative curricula for skin of color patients. The ability of instructors to provide visual representation of various dermatologic conditions may be limited by the photographs available in certain textbooks with few examples of patients with skin of color; however, concerns regarding the lack of skin of color representation in dermatology training is not a novel discussion.¹⁷ Although it is the responsibility of all dermatologists to advocate for the inclusion of skin of color, many dermatologists of color have been leading the way in this movement for decades, publishing several textbooks to document various skin conditions in those with darker skin types and discuss unique considerations for patients with skin of color.^27-29 Images from these textbooks can be utilized by programs to increase representation of skin of color in dermatology training. There also are multiple expanding online dermatologic databases, such as VisualDx, with an increasing focus on skin of color patients, some of which allow users to filter images by degree of skin pigmentation.³⁰ Moreover, instructors also can work to diversify their curricula by highlighting more of the SOCS conditions of importance to skin of color patients, which have since been renamed and highlighted on the Patient Dermatology Education section of the SOCS website.²⁰ These conditions, while not completely comprehensive, provide a useful starting point for medical educators to reevaluate for potential areas of improvement and inclusion.

There are several potential strategies that can be used to better represent skin of color in dermatologic preclinical medical education, including increasing awareness, especially among dermatology teaching faculty, of existing disparities in the representation of skin of color in the preclinical curricula. Additionally, all dermatology teaching materials could be reviewed at the department level prior to being disseminated to medical students to assess for instances in which skin of color could be prioritized for discussion or varying disease presentations in skin of color could be demonstrated. Finally, teaching faculty may consider photographing more clinical images of their skin of color patients to further develop a catalog of diverse images that can be used to teach students.

Study Limitations—Our study was unable to account for verbal discussion of skin of color not otherwise denoted or captured in lecture slides. Additional limitations include the utilization of Fitzpatrick skin types to describe and differentiate varying skin tones, as the Fitzpatrick scale originally was developed as a method to describe an individual’s response to UV exposure.¹⁹ The inability to further delineate the representation of darker skin types, such as those that may be classified as Fitzpatrick skin types V or VI,¹⁹ compared to those with lighter skin of color also was a limiting factor. This study was unable to assess for discussion of other common conditions affecting skin of color patients that were not listed as one of the priority conditions by SOCS. Photographs that were designated as indeterminate were difficult to elucidate as skin of color; however, it is possible that instructors may have verbally described these images as skin of color during lectures. Nonetheless, it may be beneficial for learners if teaching faculty were to clearly label instances where skin of color patients are shown or when notable differences are present.

Future studies would benefit from the inclusion of audio data from lectures, syllabi, and small group teaching materials from preclinical courses to more accurately assess representation of skin of color in dermatology training. Additionally, future studies also may expand to include images from lectures of overlapping clinical specialties, particularly infectious disease and rheumatology, to provide a broader assessment of skin of color exposure. Furthermore, repeat assessment may be beneficial to assess the longitudinal effectiveness of curricular changes at the institutions included in this study, comparing older lectures to more recent, updated lectures. This study also may be replicated at other medical schools to allow for wider comparison of curricula.

Acknowledgment—The authors wish to thank the institutions that offered and agreed to participate in this study with the hopes of improving medical education.

A ccording to the US Census Bureau, more than half of all Americans are projected to belong to a minority group, defined as any group other than non-Hispanic White alone, by 2044. ¹ Consequently, the United States rapidly is becoming a country in which the majority of citizens will have skin of color. Individuals with skin of color are of diverse ethnic backgrounds and include people of African, Latin American, Native American, Pacific Islander, and Asian descent, as well as interethnic backgrounds. ² Throughout the country, dermatologists along with primary care practitioners may be confronted with certain cutaneous conditions that have varying disease presentations or processes in patients with skin of color. It also is important to note that racial categories are socially rather than biologically constructed, and the term skin of color includes a wide variety of diverse skin types. Nevertheless, the current literature thoroughly supports unique pathophysiologic differences in skin of color as well as variations in disease manifestation compared to White patients. ^3-5 For example, the increased lability of melanosomes in skin of color patients, which increases their risk for postinflammatory hyperpigmentation, has been well documented. ^5-7 There are various dermatologic conditions that also occur with higher frequency and manifest uniquely in people with darker, more pigmented skin, ^7-9 and dermatologists, along with primary care physicians, should feel prepared to recognize and address them.

Extensive evidence also indicates that there are unique aspects to consider while managing certain skin diseases in patients with skin of color.^8,10,11 Consequently, as noted on the Skin of Color Society (SOCS) website, “[a]n increase in the body of dermatological literature concerning skin of color as well as the advancement of both basic science and clinical investigational research is necessary to meet the needs of the expanding skin of color population.”² In the meantime, current knowledge regarding cutaneous conditions that diversely or disproportionately affect skin of color should be actively disseminated to physicians in training. Although patients with skin of color should always have access to comprehensive care and knowledgeable practitioners, the current changes in national and regional demographics further underscore the need for a more thorough understanding of skin of color with regard to disease pathogenesis, diagnosis, and treatment.

Several studies have found that medical students in the United States are minimally exposed to dermatology in general compared to other clinical specialties,^12-14 which can easily lead to the underrecognition of disorders that may uniquely or disproportionately affect individuals with pigmented skin. Recent data showed that medical schools typically required fewer than 10 hours of dermatology instruction,¹² and on average, dermatologic training made up less than 1% of a medical student’s undergraduate medical education.^13,15,16 Consequently, less than 40% of primary care residents felt that their medical school curriculum adequately prepared them to manage common skin conditions.¹⁴ Although not all physicians should be expected to fully grasp the complexities of skin of color and its diagnostic and therapeutic implications, both practicing and training dermatologists have acknowledged a lack of exposure to skin of color. In one study, approximately 47% of dermatologists and dermatology residents reported that their medical training (medical school and/or residency) was inadequate in training them on skin conditions in Black patients. Furthermore, many who felt their training was lacking in skin of color identified the need for greater exposure to Black patients and training materials.¹⁵ The absence of comprehensive medical education regarding skin of color ultimately can be a disadvantage for both practitioners and patients, resulting in poorer outcomes. Furthermore, underrepresentation of skin of color may persist beyond undergraduate and graduate medical education. There also is evidence to suggest that noninclusion of skin of color pervades foundational dermatologic educational resources, including commonly used textbooks as well as continuing medical education disseminated at national conferences and meetings.¹⁷ Taken together, these findings highlight the need for more diverse and representative exposure to skin of color throughout medical training, which begins with a diverse inclusive undergraduate medical education in dermatology.

The objective of this study was to determine if the preclinical dermatology curriculum at 3 US medical schools provided adequate representation of skin of color patients in their didactic presentation slides.

Methods

Participants—Three US medical schools, a blend of private and public medical schools located across different geographic boundaries, agreed to participate in the study. All 3 institutions were current members of the American Medical Association (AMA) Accelerating Change in Medical Education consortium, whose primary goal is to create the medical school of the future and transform physician training.¹⁸ All 32 member institutions of the AMA consortium were contacted to request their participation in the study. As part of the consortium, these institutions have vowed to collectively work to develop and share the best models for educational advancement to improve care for patients, populations, and communities¹⁸ and would expectedly provide a more racially and ethnically inclusive curriculum than an institution not accountable to a group dedicated to identifying the best ways to deliver care for increasingly diverse communities.

Data Collection—Lectures were included if they were presented during dermatology preclinical courses in the 2015 to 2016 academic year. An uninvolved third party removed the names and identities of instructors to preserve anonymity. Two independent coders from different institutions extracted the data—lecture title, total number of clinical and histologic images, and number of skin of color images—from each of the anonymized lectures using a standardized coding form. We documented differences in skin of color noted in lectures and the disease context for the discussed differences, such as variations in clinical presentation, disease process, epidemiology/risk, and treatment between different skin phenotypes or ethnic groups. Photographs in which the coders were unable to differentiate whether the patient had skin of color were designated as indeterminate or unclear. Photographs appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin types IV, V, and VI¹⁹ were categorically designated as skin of color, and those appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin types I and II were described as not skin of color; however, images appearing to represent Fitzpatrick skin type III often were classified as not skin of color or indeterminate and occasionally skin of color. The Figure shows examples of images classified as skin of color, indeterminate, and not skin of color. Photographs often were classified as indeterminate due to poor lighting, close-up view photographs, or highlighted pathology obscuring the surrounding skin. We excluded duplicate photographs and histologic images from the analyses.

We also reviewed 19 conditions previously highlighted by the SOCS as areas of importance to skin of color patients.²⁰ The coders tracked how many of these conditions were noted in each lecture. Duplicate discussion of these conditions was not included in the analyses. Any discrepancies between coders were resolved through additional slide review and discussion. The final coded data with the agreed upon changes were used for statistical analyses. Recent national demographic data from the US Census Bureau in 2019 describe approximately 39.9% of the population as belonging to racial/ethnic groups other than non-Hispanic/Latinx White.²¹ Consequently, the standard for adequate representation for skin of color photographs was set at 35% for the purpose of this study.

Across all 3 institutions included in the study, the proportion of the total number of clinical photographs showing skin of color was 16% (290/1812). Eight percent of the total photographs (145/1812) were noted to be indeterminate (Table). For institution 1, 23.6% of photographs (155/658) showed skin of color, and 12.6% (83/658) were indeterminate. For institution 2, 13.1% (76/578) showed skin of color and 7.8% (45/578) were indeterminate. For institution 3, 10.2% (59/576) showed skin of color and 3% (17/576) were indeterminate.

Institutions 1, 2, and 3 had 18, 8, and 17 total dermatology lectures, respectively. Of the 19 conditions designated as areas of importance to skin of color patients by the SOCS, 16 (84.2%) were discussed by institution 1, 11 (57.9%) by institution 2, and 9 (47.4%) by institution 3 (eTable 1). Institution 3 did not include photographs of skin of color patients in its acne, psoriasis, or cutaneous malignancy lectures. Institution 1 also did not include any skin of color patients in its malignancy lecture. Lectures that focused on pigmentary disorders, atopic dermatitis, infectious conditions, and benign cutaneous neoplasms were more likely to display photographs of skin of color patients; for example, lectures that discussed infectious conditions, such as superficial mycoses, herpes viruses, human papillomavirus, syphilis, and atypical mycobacterial infections, were consistently among those with higher proportions of photographs of skin of color patients.

Throughout the entire preclinical dermatology course at all 3 institutions, of 2945 lecture slides, only 24 (0.8%) unique differences were noted between skin color and non–skin of color patients, with 10 total differences noted by institution 1, 6 by institution 2, and 8 by institution 3 (Table). The majority of these differences (19/24) were related to epidemiologic differences in prevalence among varying racial/ethnic groups, with only 5 instances highlighting differences in clinical presentation. There was only a single instance that elaborated on the underlying pathophysiologic mechanisms of the discussed difference. Of all 24 unique differences discussed, 8 were related to skin cancer, 3 were related to dermatitis, and 2 were related to the difference in manifestation of erythema in patients with darker skin (eTable 2).

Comment

The results of this study demonstrated that skin of color is underrepresented in the preclinical dermatology curriculum at these 3 institutions. Although only 16% of all included clinical photographs were of skin of color, individuals with skin of color will soon represent more than half of the total US population within the next 2 decades.¹ To increase representation of skin of color patients, teaching faculty should consciously and deliberately include more photographs of skin of color patients for a wider variety of common conditions, including atopic dermatitis and psoriasis, in addition to those that tend to disparately affect skin of color patients, such as pseudofolliculitis barbae or melasma. Furthermore, they also can incorporate more detailed discussions about important differences seen in skin of color patients.

More Skin of Color Photographs in Psoriasis Lectures—At institution 3, there were no skin of color patients included in the psoriasis lecture, even though there is considerable data in the literature indicating notable differences in the clinical presentation, quality-of-life impact, and treatment of psoriasis in skin of color patients.^11,22 There are multiple nuances in psoriasis manifestation in patients with skin of color, including less-conspicuous erythema in darker skin, higher degrees of dyspigmentation, and greater body surface area involvement. For Black patients with scalp psoriasis, the impact of hair texture, styling practices, and washing frequency are additional considerations that may impact disease severity and selection of topical therapy.¹¹ The lack of inclusion of any skin of color patients in the psoriasis lecture at one institution further underscores the pressing need to prioritize communities of color in medical education.

More Skin of Color Photographs in Cutaneous Malignancy Lectures—Similarly, while a lecturer at institution 2 noted that acral lentiginous melanoma accounts for a considerable proportion of melanoma among skin of color patients,²³ there was no mention of how melanoma generally is substantially more deadly in this population, potentially due to decreased awareness and inconsistent screening.²⁴ Furthermore, at institutions 1 and 3, there were no photographs or discussion of skin of color patients during the cutaneous malignancy lectures. Evidence shows that more emphasis is needed for melanoma screening and awareness in skin of color populations to improve survival outcomes,²⁴ and this begins with educating not only future dermatologists but all future physicians as well. The failure to include photographs of skin of color patients in discussions or lectures regarding cutaneous malignancies may serve to further perpetuate the harmful misperception that individuals with skin of color are unaffected by skin cancer.^25,26

Analysis of Skin of Color Photographs in Infectious Disease Lectures—In addition, lectures discussing infectious etiologies were among those with the highest proportion of skin of color photographs. This relatively disproportionate representation of skin of color compared to the other lectures may contribute to the development of harmful stereotypes or the stigmatization of skin of color patients. Although skin of color should continue to be represented in similar lectures, teaching faculty should remain mindful of the potential unintended impact from lectures including relatively disproportionate amounts of skin of color, particularly when other lectures may have sparse to absent representation of skin of color.

More Photographs Available for Education—Overall, our findings may help to inform changes to preclinical dermatology medical education at other institutions to create more inclusive and representative curricula for skin of color patients. The ability of instructors to provide visual representation of various dermatologic conditions may be limited by the photographs available in certain textbooks with few examples of patients with skin of color; however, concerns regarding the lack of skin of color representation in dermatology training is not a novel discussion.¹⁷ Although it is the responsibility of all dermatologists to advocate for the inclusion of skin of color, many dermatologists of color have been leading the way in this movement for decades, publishing several textbooks to document various skin conditions in those with darker skin types and discuss unique considerations for patients with skin of color.^27-29 Images from these textbooks can be utilized by programs to increase representation of skin of color in dermatology training. There also are multiple expanding online dermatologic databases, such as VisualDx, with an increasing focus on skin of color patients, some of which allow users to filter images by degree of skin pigmentation.³⁰ Moreover, instructors also can work to diversify their curricula by highlighting more of the SOCS conditions of importance to skin of color patients, which have since been renamed and highlighted on the Patient Dermatology Education section of the SOCS website.²⁰ These conditions, while not completely comprehensive, provide a useful starting point for medical educators to reevaluate for potential areas of improvement and inclusion.

There are several potential strategies that can be used to better represent skin of color in dermatologic preclinical medical education, including increasing awareness, especially among dermatology teaching faculty, of existing disparities in the representation of skin of color in the preclinical curricula. Additionally, all dermatology teaching materials could be reviewed at the department level prior to being disseminated to medical students to assess for instances in which skin of color could be prioritized for discussion or varying disease presentations in skin of color could be demonstrated. Finally, teaching faculty may consider photographing more clinical images of their skin of color patients to further develop a catalog of diverse images that can be used to teach students.

Study Limitations—Our study was unable to account for verbal discussion of skin of color not otherwise denoted or captured in lecture slides. Additional limitations include the utilization of Fitzpatrick skin types to describe and differentiate varying skin tones, as the Fitzpatrick scale originally was developed as a method to describe an individual’s response to UV exposure.¹⁹ The inability to further delineate the representation of darker skin types, such as those that may be classified as Fitzpatrick skin types V or VI,¹⁹ compared to those with lighter skin of color also was a limiting factor. This study was unable to assess for discussion of other common conditions affecting skin of color patients that were not listed as one of the priority conditions by SOCS. Photographs that were designated as indeterminate were difficult to elucidate as skin of color; however, it is possible that instructors may have verbally described these images as skin of color during lectures. Nonetheless, it may be beneficial for learners if teaching faculty were to clearly label instances where skin of color patients are shown or when notable differences are present.

Future studies would benefit from the inclusion of audio data from lectures, syllabi, and small group teaching materials from preclinical courses to more accurately assess representation of skin of color in dermatology training. Additionally, future studies also may expand to include images from lectures of overlapping clinical specialties, particularly infectious disease and rheumatology, to provide a broader assessment of skin of color exposure. Furthermore, repeat assessment may be beneficial to assess the longitudinal effectiveness of curricular changes at the institutions included in this study, comparing older lectures to more recent, updated lectures. This study also may be replicated at other medical schools to allow for wider comparison of curricula.

Acknowledgment—The authors wish to thank the institutions that offered and agreed to participate in this study with the hopes of improving medical education.

This fall, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) will announce when they will hear oral arguments for Dobbs v Jackson Women’s Health Organization. The court will examine a Mississippi law, known as the “Gestational Age Act,” originally passed in 2018, that sought to “limit abortions to fifteen weeks’ gestation except in a medical emergency or in cases of severe fetal abnormality.”¹ This sets the stage for SCOTUS to make a major ruling on abortion, one which could affirm or upend landmark decisions and nearly 50 years of abortion legislative precedent. Additionally, SCOTUS’ recent decision to not intervene on Texas’ Senate Bill 8 (SB8), which essentially bans all abortions after 6 weeks’ gestational age, may foreshadow how this case will be decided. The current abortion restrictions in Texas and the implications of SB8 will be discussed in a forthcoming column.

SCOTUS and abortion rights

The decision to hear this case comes on the heels of another recent decision regarding a Louisiana law in June Medical Services v Russo. This case examined Louisiana Act 620, which would have required physicians to have hospital admitting privileges within 30 miles of where they provide abortion services.² The law was deemed constitutionally invalid, with the majority noting the law would have drastically burdened a woman’s right to access abortion services. The Court ruled similarly in 2016 in Whole Women’s Health (WWH) v Hellerstedt, in which WWH challenged Texas House Bill 2, a nearly identical law requiring admitting privileges for abortion care providers. In both of these cases, SCOTUS pointed to precedent set by Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, which established that it is unconstitutional for a state to create an “undue burden” on a woman’s right to abortion prior to fetal viability.³ The precedent to this, Roe v Wade, and 5 decades of abortion legislation set may be upended by a SCOTUS decision this next term.

Dobbs v Jackson

On March 19, 2018, Mississippi enacted the “Gestational Age Act” into law. The newly enacted law would limit abortions to 15 weeks’ gestation except in a medical emergency or in cases of severe fetal anomalies. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the only licensed abortion provider in the state, challenged the constitutionality of the law with legal support from Center for Reproductive Rights (CRR). The US District Court for the Southern District of Mississippi granted summary judgement in favor of the clinic and placed an injunction on the law’s enforcement. The state appealed to the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, which upheld the district court decision in a 3-0 decision in November 2019. Mississippi appealed to the Supreme Court, with their petition focusing on multiple questions from the appeals process. After repeatedly rescheduling the case, and multiple reviews in conference, SCOTUS agreed to hear the case. Most recently, the state has narrowed its argument, changing course, and attacking Roe v Wade directly. In a brief submitted in July 2021, the state argues the court should hold that all pre-viability prohibitions on elective abortions are constitutional.

Interestingly, during this time the Mississippi legislature also passed a law, House Bill 2116, also known as the “fetal heartbeat bill,” banning abortion with gestational ages after detection of a fetal heartbeat. This was also challenged, deemed unconstitutional, and affirmed on appeal by the Fifth US Circuit Court.

While recent challenges have focused on the “undue burden” state laws placed on those trying to access abortion care, this case will bring the issue of “viability” and gestational age limits to the forefront.^4,5 In addition to Roe v Wade, the Court will have the opportunity to reexamine other relevant precedent, such as Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, in considering the most recent arguments of the state. In this most recent brief, the state argues that the Court should, “reject viability as a barrier to prohibiting elective abortions” and that a “viability rule has no constitutional basis.” The state goes on to argue the “Constitution does not protect a right to abortion or limit States’ authority to restrict it.”⁶ The language and tone in this brief are more direct and aggressive than the states’ petition submitted last June.

However, the composition of the Court is different than in the past. This case will be argued with Justice Amy Coney Barrett seated in place of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who was a strong advocate for women’s rights.⁷ She joins Justices Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh, also appointed by President Donald Trump and widely viewed as conservative judges, tipping the scales to a more conservative Supreme Court. This case will also be argued in a polarized political environment.^8,9 Given the conservative Supreme Court in the setting of an increasingly politically charged environment, reproductive right advocates are understandably worried that members of the anti-abortion movement view this as an opportunity to weaken or remove federal constitutional protections for abortion.

Continue to: Potential outcome of Dobbs v Jackson...

Should SCOTUS choose to rule in favor of Mississippi, it could severely weaken, or even overturn Roe v Wade. This would leave a legal path for states with pre-Roe abortion bans and currently unenforced post-Roe bans to take effect. These “trigger” laws are bans or severe restrictions on abortion providers and patients intended to take effect if Roe were to be overturned. Alternatively, the Court may overturn Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, but maintain Roe v Wade, essentially leaving the regulation of pre-viability abortion care to individual states. Currently 21 states have laws that would restrict the legal status of abortion.¹⁰ In addition, state legislatures are aggressively introducing abortion restrictions. As of June 2021, there have been 561 abortion restrictions, including 165 abortion bans, introduced across 47 states, putting 2021 on course to be the most devastating anti-abortion state legislative session in decades.¹¹

The damage caused by such restriction on abortion care would be significant. It would block or push access out of reach for many. The negative effects of such legislative action would most heavily burden those already marginalized by systemic, structural inequalities including those of low socioeconomic status, people of color, young people, those in rural communities, and members of the LGBTQ community. The medical community has long recognized the harm caused by restricting access to abortion care. Restriction of access to safe abortion care paradoxically has been shown not to decrease the incidence of abortion, but rather increases the number of unsafe abortions.¹² The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) acknowledge “individuals require access to safe, legal abortion” and that this represents “a necessary component for comprehensive health care.”^13,14 They joined the American Medical Association and other professional groups in a 2019 amicus brief to SCOTUS opposing restrictions on abortion access.¹⁵ In addition, government laws restricting access to abortion care undermine the fundamental relationship between a person and their physician, limiting a physician’s obligation to honor patient autonomy and provide appropriate medical care.

By taking up the question whether all pre-viability bans on elective abortions violate the Constitution, SCOTUS is indicating a possible willingness to revisit the central holding of abortion jurisprudence. Their decision regarding this case will likely be the most significant ruling regarding the legal status of abortion care in decades, and will significantly affect the delivery of abortion care in the future.

Action items

• Reach out to your representatives to support the Women’s Health Protection Act, an initiative introduced to Congress to protect access to abortion care. If you reside in a state where your federal representatives support the Women’s Health Protection Act, reach out to friends and colleagues in states without supportive elected officials and ask them to call their representatives and ask them to support the bill.
• Get involved with local grassroots groups fighting to protect abortion access.
• Continue to speak out against laws and policies designed to limit access to safe abortion care.
• Connect with your local ACOG chapter for more ways to become involved.
• As always, make sure you are registered to vote, and exercise your right whenever you can.

This fall, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) will announce when they will hear oral arguments for Dobbs v Jackson Women’s Health Organization. The court will examine a Mississippi law, known as the “Gestational Age Act,” originally passed in 2018, that sought to “limit abortions to fifteen weeks’ gestation except in a medical emergency or in cases of severe fetal abnormality.”¹ This sets the stage for SCOTUS to make a major ruling on abortion, one which could affirm or upend landmark decisions and nearly 50 years of abortion legislative precedent. Additionally, SCOTUS’ recent decision to not intervene on Texas’ Senate Bill 8 (SB8), which essentially bans all abortions after 6 weeks’ gestational age, may foreshadow how this case will be decided. The current abortion restrictions in Texas and the implications of SB8 will be discussed in a forthcoming column.

SCOTUS and abortion rights

The decision to hear this case comes on the heels of another recent decision regarding a Louisiana law in June Medical Services v Russo. This case examined Louisiana Act 620, which would have required physicians to have hospital admitting privileges within 30 miles of where they provide abortion services.² The law was deemed constitutionally invalid, with the majority noting the law would have drastically burdened a woman’s right to access abortion services. The Court ruled similarly in 2016 in Whole Women’s Health (WWH) v Hellerstedt, in which WWH challenged Texas House Bill 2, a nearly identical law requiring admitting privileges for abortion care providers. In both of these cases, SCOTUS pointed to precedent set by Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, which established that it is unconstitutional for a state to create an “undue burden” on a woman’s right to abortion prior to fetal viability.³ The precedent to this, Roe v Wade, and 5 decades of abortion legislation set may be upended by a SCOTUS decision this next term.

Dobbs v Jackson

On March 19, 2018, Mississippi enacted the “Gestational Age Act” into law. The newly enacted law would limit abortions to 15 weeks’ gestation except in a medical emergency or in cases of severe fetal anomalies. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the only licensed abortion provider in the state, challenged the constitutionality of the law with legal support from Center for Reproductive Rights (CRR). The US District Court for the Southern District of Mississippi granted summary judgement in favor of the clinic and placed an injunction on the law’s enforcement. The state appealed to the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, which upheld the district court decision in a 3-0 decision in November 2019. Mississippi appealed to the Supreme Court, with their petition focusing on multiple questions from the appeals process. After repeatedly rescheduling the case, and multiple reviews in conference, SCOTUS agreed to hear the case. Most recently, the state has narrowed its argument, changing course, and attacking Roe v Wade directly. In a brief submitted in July 2021, the state argues the court should hold that all pre-viability prohibitions on elective abortions are constitutional.

Interestingly, during this time the Mississippi legislature also passed a law, House Bill 2116, also known as the “fetal heartbeat bill,” banning abortion with gestational ages after detection of a fetal heartbeat. This was also challenged, deemed unconstitutional, and affirmed on appeal by the Fifth US Circuit Court.

While recent challenges have focused on the “undue burden” state laws placed on those trying to access abortion care, this case will bring the issue of “viability” and gestational age limits to the forefront.^4,5 In addition to Roe v Wade, the Court will have the opportunity to reexamine other relevant precedent, such as Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, in considering the most recent arguments of the state. In this most recent brief, the state argues that the Court should, “reject viability as a barrier to prohibiting elective abortions” and that a “viability rule has no constitutional basis.” The state goes on to argue the “Constitution does not protect a right to abortion or limit States’ authority to restrict it.”⁶ The language and tone in this brief are more direct and aggressive than the states’ petition submitted last June.

However, the composition of the Court is different than in the past. This case will be argued with Justice Amy Coney Barrett seated in place of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who was a strong advocate for women’s rights.⁷ She joins Justices Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh, also appointed by President Donald Trump and widely viewed as conservative judges, tipping the scales to a more conservative Supreme Court. This case will also be argued in a polarized political environment.^8,9 Given the conservative Supreme Court in the setting of an increasingly politically charged environment, reproductive right advocates are understandably worried that members of the anti-abortion movement view this as an opportunity to weaken or remove federal constitutional protections for abortion.

Continue to: Potential outcome of Dobbs v Jackson...

Should SCOTUS choose to rule in favor of Mississippi, it could severely weaken, or even overturn Roe v Wade. This would leave a legal path for states with pre-Roe abortion bans and currently unenforced post-Roe bans to take effect. These “trigger” laws are bans or severe restrictions on abortion providers and patients intended to take effect if Roe were to be overturned. Alternatively, the Court may overturn Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, but maintain Roe v Wade, essentially leaving the regulation of pre-viability abortion care to individual states. Currently 21 states have laws that would restrict the legal status of abortion.¹⁰ In addition, state legislatures are aggressively introducing abortion restrictions. As of June 2021, there have been 561 abortion restrictions, including 165 abortion bans, introduced across 47 states, putting 2021 on course to be the most devastating anti-abortion state legislative session in decades.¹¹

The damage caused by such restriction on abortion care would be significant. It would block or push access out of reach for many. The negative effects of such legislative action would most heavily burden those already marginalized by systemic, structural inequalities including those of low socioeconomic status, people of color, young people, those in rural communities, and members of the LGBTQ community. The medical community has long recognized the harm caused by restricting access to abortion care. Restriction of access to safe abortion care paradoxically has been shown not to decrease the incidence of abortion, but rather increases the number of unsafe abortions.¹² The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) acknowledge “individuals require access to safe, legal abortion” and that this represents “a necessary component for comprehensive health care.”^13,14 They joined the American Medical Association and other professional groups in a 2019 amicus brief to SCOTUS opposing restrictions on abortion access.¹⁵ In addition, government laws restricting access to abortion care undermine the fundamental relationship between a person and their physician, limiting a physician’s obligation to honor patient autonomy and provide appropriate medical care.

By taking up the question whether all pre-viability bans on elective abortions violate the Constitution, SCOTUS is indicating a possible willingness to revisit the central holding of abortion jurisprudence. Their decision regarding this case will likely be the most significant ruling regarding the legal status of abortion care in decades, and will significantly affect the delivery of abortion care in the future.

Action items

• Reach out to your representatives to support the Women’s Health Protection Act, an initiative introduced to Congress to protect access to abortion care. If you reside in a state where your federal representatives support the Women’s Health Protection Act, reach out to friends and colleagues in states without supportive elected officials and ask them to call their representatives and ask them to support the bill.
• Get involved with local grassroots groups fighting to protect abortion access.
• Continue to speak out against laws and policies designed to limit access to safe abortion care.
• Connect with your local ACOG chapter for more ways to become involved.
• As always, make sure you are registered to vote, and exercise your right whenever you can.

This fall, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) will announce when they will hear oral arguments for Dobbs v Jackson Women’s Health Organization. The court will examine a Mississippi law, known as the “Gestational Age Act,” originally passed in 2018, that sought to “limit abortions to fifteen weeks’ gestation except in a medical emergency or in cases of severe fetal abnormality.”¹ This sets the stage for SCOTUS to make a major ruling on abortion, one which could affirm or upend landmark decisions and nearly 50 years of abortion legislative precedent. Additionally, SCOTUS’ recent decision to not intervene on Texas’ Senate Bill 8 (SB8), which essentially bans all abortions after 6 weeks’ gestational age, may foreshadow how this case will be decided. The current abortion restrictions in Texas and the implications of SB8 will be discussed in a forthcoming column.

SCOTUS and abortion rights

The decision to hear this case comes on the heels of another recent decision regarding a Louisiana law in June Medical Services v Russo. This case examined Louisiana Act 620, which would have required physicians to have hospital admitting privileges within 30 miles of where they provide abortion services.² The law was deemed constitutionally invalid, with the majority noting the law would have drastically burdened a woman’s right to access abortion services. The Court ruled similarly in 2016 in Whole Women’s Health (WWH) v Hellerstedt, in which WWH challenged Texas House Bill 2, a nearly identical law requiring admitting privileges for abortion care providers. In both of these cases, SCOTUS pointed to precedent set by Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, which established that it is unconstitutional for a state to create an “undue burden” on a woman’s right to abortion prior to fetal viability.³ The precedent to this, Roe v Wade, and 5 decades of abortion legislation set may be upended by a SCOTUS decision this next term.

Dobbs v Jackson

On March 19, 2018, Mississippi enacted the “Gestational Age Act” into law. The newly enacted law would limit abortions to 15 weeks’ gestation except in a medical emergency or in cases of severe fetal anomalies. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the only licensed abortion provider in the state, challenged the constitutionality of the law with legal support from Center for Reproductive Rights (CRR). The US District Court for the Southern District of Mississippi granted summary judgement in favor of the clinic and placed an injunction on the law’s enforcement. The state appealed to the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, which upheld the district court decision in a 3-0 decision in November 2019. Mississippi appealed to the Supreme Court, with their petition focusing on multiple questions from the appeals process. After repeatedly rescheduling the case, and multiple reviews in conference, SCOTUS agreed to hear the case. Most recently, the state has narrowed its argument, changing course, and attacking Roe v Wade directly. In a brief submitted in July 2021, the state argues the court should hold that all pre-viability prohibitions on elective abortions are constitutional.

Interestingly, during this time the Mississippi legislature also passed a law, House Bill 2116, also known as the “fetal heartbeat bill,” banning abortion with gestational ages after detection of a fetal heartbeat. This was also challenged, deemed unconstitutional, and affirmed on appeal by the Fifth US Circuit Court.

While recent challenges have focused on the “undue burden” state laws placed on those trying to access abortion care, this case will bring the issue of “viability” and gestational age limits to the forefront.^4,5 In addition to Roe v Wade, the Court will have the opportunity to reexamine other relevant precedent, such as Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, in considering the most recent arguments of the state. In this most recent brief, the state argues that the Court should, “reject viability as a barrier to prohibiting elective abortions” and that a “viability rule has no constitutional basis.” The state goes on to argue the “Constitution does not protect a right to abortion or limit States’ authority to restrict it.”⁶ The language and tone in this brief are more direct and aggressive than the states’ petition submitted last June.

However, the composition of the Court is different than in the past. This case will be argued with Justice Amy Coney Barrett seated in place of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who was a strong advocate for women’s rights.⁷ She joins Justices Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh, also appointed by President Donald Trump and widely viewed as conservative judges, tipping the scales to a more conservative Supreme Court. This case will also be argued in a polarized political environment.^8,9 Given the conservative Supreme Court in the setting of an increasingly politically charged environment, reproductive right advocates are understandably worried that members of the anti-abortion movement view this as an opportunity to weaken or remove federal constitutional protections for abortion.

Continue to: Potential outcome of Dobbs v Jackson...

Should SCOTUS choose to rule in favor of Mississippi, it could severely weaken, or even overturn Roe v Wade. This would leave a legal path for states with pre-Roe abortion bans and currently unenforced post-Roe bans to take effect. These “trigger” laws are bans or severe restrictions on abortion providers and patients intended to take effect if Roe were to be overturned. Alternatively, the Court may overturn Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey, but maintain Roe v Wade, essentially leaving the regulation of pre-viability abortion care to individual states. Currently 21 states have laws that would restrict the legal status of abortion.¹⁰ In addition, state legislatures are aggressively introducing abortion restrictions. As of June 2021, there have been 561 abortion restrictions, including 165 abortion bans, introduced across 47 states, putting 2021 on course to be the most devastating anti-abortion state legislative session in decades.¹¹

The damage caused by such restriction on abortion care would be significant. It would block or push access out of reach for many. The negative effects of such legislative action would most heavily burden those already marginalized by systemic, structural inequalities including those of low socioeconomic status, people of color, young people, those in rural communities, and members of the LGBTQ community. The medical community has long recognized the harm caused by restricting access to abortion care. Restriction of access to safe abortion care paradoxically has been shown not to decrease the incidence of abortion, but rather increases the number of unsafe abortions.¹² The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) acknowledge “individuals require access to safe, legal abortion” and that this represents “a necessary component for comprehensive health care.”^13,14 They joined the American Medical Association and other professional groups in a 2019 amicus brief to SCOTUS opposing restrictions on abortion access.¹⁵ In addition, government laws restricting access to abortion care undermine the fundamental relationship between a person and their physician, limiting a physician’s obligation to honor patient autonomy and provide appropriate medical care.

By taking up the question whether all pre-viability bans on elective abortions violate the Constitution, SCOTUS is indicating a possible willingness to revisit the central holding of abortion jurisprudence. Their decision regarding this case will likely be the most significant ruling regarding the legal status of abortion care in decades, and will significantly affect the delivery of abortion care in the future.

Action items

• Reach out to your representatives to support the Women’s Health Protection Act, an initiative introduced to Congress to protect access to abortion care. If you reside in a state where your federal representatives support the Women’s Health Protection Act, reach out to friends and colleagues in states without supportive elected officials and ask them to call their representatives and ask them to support the bill.
• Get involved with local grassroots groups fighting to protect abortion access.
• Continue to speak out against laws and policies designed to limit access to safe abortion care.
• Connect with your local ACOG chapter for more ways to become involved.
• As always, make sure you are registered to vote, and exercise your right whenever you can.