Critical Care

It’s been about two months since I volunteered in a hospital in Brooklyn, working in an ICU taking care of patients with COVID-19. I’m back home in California now but with new perspectives, not only on the pandemic, but on those who are affected by it the most.

Courtesy Dr. Arghavan Salles

Everyone seems to have forgotten the early days of the pandemic – the time when the ICUs were overrun, we were using FEMA ventilators, and endocrinologists and psychiatrists were acting as intensivists.

Even though things are opening up and people are taking summer vacations in a seemingly amnestic state, having witnessed multiple daily deaths remains a part of my daily consciousness. As I see the case numbers climbing juxtaposed against people being out and about without masks, my anxiety level is rising.

A virus doesn’t discriminate. It can fly through the air, landing on the next available surface. If that virus is SARS-CoV-2 and that surface is a human mucosal membrane, the virus makes itself at home. It orders furniture, buys a fancy mattress and a large high definition TV, hangs art on the walls, and settles in for the long haul. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Even as an equal opportunity virus, what SARS-CoV-2 has done is to hold a mirror up to the healthcare system. It has shown us what was here all along. When people first started noticing that underrepresented minorities were more likely to contract the virus and get sick from it, I heard musings that this was likely because of their preexisting health conditions. For example, commentators on cable news were quick to point out that black people are more likely than other people to have hypertension or diabetes. So doesn’t that explain why they are more affected by this virus?

That certainly is part of the story, but it doesn’t entirely explain the discrepancies we’ve seen. For example, in New York 14% of the population is black, and 25% of those who had a COVID-related death were black patients. Similarly, 19% of the population is Hispanic or Latino, and they made up 26% of COVID-related deaths. On the other hand, 55% of the population in New York is white, and white people account for only 34% of COVID-related deaths.

Working in Brooklyn, I didn’t need to be a keen observer to notice that, out of our entire unit of about 20-25 patients, there was only one patient in a 2-week period who was neither black nor Hispanic.

As others have written, there are other factors at play. I’m not sure how many of those commentators back in March stopped to think about why black patients are more likely to have hypertension and diabetes, but the chronic stress of facing racism on a daily basis surely contributes. Beyond those medical problems, minorities are more likely to live in multigenerational housing, which means that it is harder for them to isolate from others. In addition, their living quarters tend to be further from health care centers and grocery stores, which makes it harder for them to access medical care and healthy food.

As if that weren’t enough to put their health at risk, people of color are also affected by environmental racism . Factories with toxic waste are more likely to be built in or near neighborhoods filled with people of color than in other communities. On top of that, black and Hispanic people are also more likely to be under- or uninsured, meaning they often delay seeking care in order to avoid astronomic healthcare costs.

Black and Hispanic people are also more likely than others to be working in the service industry or other essential services, which means they are less likely to be able to work from home. Consequently, they have to risk more exposures to other people and the virus than do those who have the privilege of working safely from home. They also are less likely to have available paid leave and, therefore, are more likely to work while sick.

With the deck completely stacked against them, underrepresented minorities also face systemic bias and racism when interacting with the health care system. Physicians mistakenly believe black patients experience less pain than other patients, according to some research. Black mothers have significantly worse health care outcomes than do their non-black counterparts, and the infant mortality rate for Black infants is much higher as well.

Dr. Salles is a bariatric surgeon and is currently a Scholar in Residence at Stanford (Calif.) University. Find her on Twitter @arghavan_salles.

It’s been about two months since I volunteered in a hospital in Brooklyn, working in an ICU taking care of patients with COVID-19. I’m back home in California now but with new perspectives, not only on the pandemic, but on those who are affected by it the most.

Courtesy Dr. Arghavan Salles

Everyone seems to have forgotten the early days of the pandemic – the time when the ICUs were overrun, we were using FEMA ventilators, and endocrinologists and psychiatrists were acting as intensivists.

Even though things are opening up and people are taking summer vacations in a seemingly amnestic state, having witnessed multiple daily deaths remains a part of my daily consciousness. As I see the case numbers climbing juxtaposed against people being out and about without masks, my anxiety level is rising.

A virus doesn’t discriminate. It can fly through the air, landing on the next available surface. If that virus is SARS-CoV-2 and that surface is a human mucosal membrane, the virus makes itself at home. It orders furniture, buys a fancy mattress and a large high definition TV, hangs art on the walls, and settles in for the long haul. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Even as an equal opportunity virus, what SARS-CoV-2 has done is to hold a mirror up to the healthcare system. It has shown us what was here all along. When people first started noticing that underrepresented minorities were more likely to contract the virus and get sick from it, I heard musings that this was likely because of their preexisting health conditions. For example, commentators on cable news were quick to point out that black people are more likely than other people to have hypertension or diabetes. So doesn’t that explain why they are more affected by this virus?

That certainly is part of the story, but it doesn’t entirely explain the discrepancies we’ve seen. For example, in New York 14% of the population is black, and 25% of those who had a COVID-related death were black patients. Similarly, 19% of the population is Hispanic or Latino, and they made up 26% of COVID-related deaths. On the other hand, 55% of the population in New York is white, and white people account for only 34% of COVID-related deaths.

Working in Brooklyn, I didn’t need to be a keen observer to notice that, out of our entire unit of about 20-25 patients, there was only one patient in a 2-week period who was neither black nor Hispanic.

As others have written, there are other factors at play. I’m not sure how many of those commentators back in March stopped to think about why black patients are more likely to have hypertension and diabetes, but the chronic stress of facing racism on a daily basis surely contributes. Beyond those medical problems, minorities are more likely to live in multigenerational housing, which means that it is harder for them to isolate from others. In addition, their living quarters tend to be further from health care centers and grocery stores, which makes it harder for them to access medical care and healthy food.

As if that weren’t enough to put their health at risk, people of color are also affected by environmental racism . Factories with toxic waste are more likely to be built in or near neighborhoods filled with people of color than in other communities. On top of that, black and Hispanic people are also more likely to be under- or uninsured, meaning they often delay seeking care in order to avoid astronomic healthcare costs.

Black and Hispanic people are also more likely than others to be working in the service industry or other essential services, which means they are less likely to be able to work from home. Consequently, they have to risk more exposures to other people and the virus than do those who have the privilege of working safely from home. They also are less likely to have available paid leave and, therefore, are more likely to work while sick.

With the deck completely stacked against them, underrepresented minorities also face systemic bias and racism when interacting with the health care system. Physicians mistakenly believe black patients experience less pain than other patients, according to some research. Black mothers have significantly worse health care outcomes than do their non-black counterparts, and the infant mortality rate for Black infants is much higher as well.

Dr. Salles is a bariatric surgeon and is currently a Scholar in Residence at Stanford (Calif.) University. Find her on Twitter @arghavan_salles.

It’s been about two months since I volunteered in a hospital in Brooklyn, working in an ICU taking care of patients with COVID-19. I’m back home in California now but with new perspectives, not only on the pandemic, but on those who are affected by it the most.

Courtesy Dr. Arghavan Salles

Everyone seems to have forgotten the early days of the pandemic – the time when the ICUs were overrun, we were using FEMA ventilators, and endocrinologists and psychiatrists were acting as intensivists.

Even though things are opening up and people are taking summer vacations in a seemingly amnestic state, having witnessed multiple daily deaths remains a part of my daily consciousness. As I see the case numbers climbing juxtaposed against people being out and about without masks, my anxiety level is rising.

A virus doesn’t discriminate. It can fly through the air, landing on the next available surface. If that virus is SARS-CoV-2 and that surface is a human mucosal membrane, the virus makes itself at home. It orders furniture, buys a fancy mattress and a large high definition TV, hangs art on the walls, and settles in for the long haul. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Even as an equal opportunity virus, what SARS-CoV-2 has done is to hold a mirror up to the healthcare system. It has shown us what was here all along. When people first started noticing that underrepresented minorities were more likely to contract the virus and get sick from it, I heard musings that this was likely because of their preexisting health conditions. For example, commentators on cable news were quick to point out that black people are more likely than other people to have hypertension or diabetes. So doesn’t that explain why they are more affected by this virus?

That certainly is part of the story, but it doesn’t entirely explain the discrepancies we’ve seen. For example, in New York 14% of the population is black, and 25% of those who had a COVID-related death were black patients. Similarly, 19% of the population is Hispanic or Latino, and they made up 26% of COVID-related deaths. On the other hand, 55% of the population in New York is white, and white people account for only 34% of COVID-related deaths.

Working in Brooklyn, I didn’t need to be a keen observer to notice that, out of our entire unit of about 20-25 patients, there was only one patient in a 2-week period who was neither black nor Hispanic.

As others have written, there are other factors at play. I’m not sure how many of those commentators back in March stopped to think about why black patients are more likely to have hypertension and diabetes, but the chronic stress of facing racism on a daily basis surely contributes. Beyond those medical problems, minorities are more likely to live in multigenerational housing, which means that it is harder for them to isolate from others. In addition, their living quarters tend to be further from health care centers and grocery stores, which makes it harder for them to access medical care and healthy food.

As if that weren’t enough to put their health at risk, people of color are also affected by environmental racism . Factories with toxic waste are more likely to be built in or near neighborhoods filled with people of color than in other communities. On top of that, black and Hispanic people are also more likely to be under- or uninsured, meaning they often delay seeking care in order to avoid astronomic healthcare costs.

Black and Hispanic people are also more likely than others to be working in the service industry or other essential services, which means they are less likely to be able to work from home. Consequently, they have to risk more exposures to other people and the virus than do those who have the privilege of working safely from home. They also are less likely to have available paid leave and, therefore, are more likely to work while sick.

With the deck completely stacked against them, underrepresented minorities also face systemic bias and racism when interacting with the health care system. Physicians mistakenly believe black patients experience less pain than other patients, according to some research. Black mothers have significantly worse health care outcomes than do their non-black counterparts, and the infant mortality rate for Black infants is much higher as well.

Dr. Salles is a bariatric surgeon and is currently a Scholar in Residence at Stanford (Calif.) University. Find her on Twitter @arghavan_salles.

Here are the stories our MDedge editors across specialties think you need to know about today:

First reported U.S. case of COVID-19 linked to Guillain-Barré syndrome

The first official U.S. case of Guillain-Barré syndrome (GBS) associated with COVID-19 has been reported by neurologists from Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh, further supporting a link between the virus and neurologic complications, including GBS.

Physicians in China reported the first case that initially presented as acute GBS. Subsequently, physicians in Italy reported five cases of GBS in association with COVID-19.

“This onset is similar to a case report of acute Zika virus infection with concurrent GBS suggesting a parainfectious complication,” first author Sandeep Rana, MD, and colleagues noted. Read more. 

Five healthy lifestyle choices tied to dramatic cut in dementia risk

Combining four of five healthy lifestyle choices has been linked to up to a 60% reduced risk for Alzheimer’s dementia in new research that strengthens ties between healthy behaviors and lower dementia risk. “I hope this study will motivate people to engage in a healthy lifestyle by not smoking, being physically and cognitively active, and having a high-quality diet,” lead investigator Klodian Dhana, MD, PhD, said in an interview. 

They defined a healthy lifestyle score on the basis of the following factors: not smoking; engaging in 150 min/wk or more of physical exercise; light to moderate alcohol consumption; consuming a high-quality Mediterranean-DASH Diet Intervention for Neurodegenerative Delay diet (upper 40%); and engaging in late-life cognitive activities.

“What needs to be determined is how early should we start ‘behaving.’ We should all aim to score four to five factors across our entire lifespan, but this is not always feasible. So, when is the time to behave? Also, what is the relative weight of each of these factors?” said Luca Giliberto, MD, PhD. Read more.

Marijuana for migraine? Some tentative evidence

Medical marijuana may have promise for managing headache pain, according to results from a small study conducted at the Jefferson Headache Center at Thomas Jefferson University. The researchers found general satisfaction with medical marijuana, more frequent use as an abortive medication rather than a preventative, and more than two-thirds using the inhaled form rather than oral.

“A lot of patients are interested in medical marijuana but don’t know how to integrate it into the therapy plan they already have – whether it should be just to treat bad headaches when they happen, or is it meant to be a preventive medicine they use every day? We have some data out there that it can be helpful, but not a lot of specific information to guide your recommendations,” said Jefferson headache fellow Claire Ceriani, MD, in an interview. Read more.

Inside Mercy’s mission to care for non-COVID patients in Los Angeles

When the hospital ship USNS Mercy departed San Diego’s Naval Station North Island on March 23, 2020, to support the Department of Defense efforts in Los Angeles during the coronavirus outbreak, Commander Erin Blevins remembers the crew’s excitement was palpable. “We normally do partnerships abroad and respond to tsunamis and earthquakes,” said Cdr. Blevins, MD, a pediatric hematologist-oncologist who served as director of medical services for the mission.

Between March 29 and May 15, about 1,071 medical personnel aboard the Mercy cared for 77 patients with an average age of 53 years who were referred from 11 Los Angeles area hospitals. 

Care aboard the ship ranged from basic medical and surgical care to critical care and trauma. The most common procedures were cholecystectomies and orthopedic procedures, and the average length of stay was 4-5 days, according to Cdr. Blevins. Over the course of the mission, the medical professionals conducted 36 surgeries, 77 x-ray exams, 26 CT scans, and administered hundreds of ancillary studies ranging from routine labs to high-end x-rays and blood transfusion support. Special Feature.

For more on COVID-19, visit our Resource Center. All of our latest news is available on MDedge.com.

Here are the stories our MDedge editors across specialties think you need to know about today:

First reported U.S. case of COVID-19 linked to Guillain-Barré syndrome

The first official U.S. case of Guillain-Barré syndrome (GBS) associated with COVID-19 has been reported by neurologists from Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh, further supporting a link between the virus and neurologic complications, including GBS.

Physicians in China reported the first case that initially presented as acute GBS. Subsequently, physicians in Italy reported five cases of GBS in association with COVID-19.

“This onset is similar to a case report of acute Zika virus infection with concurrent GBS suggesting a parainfectious complication,” first author Sandeep Rana, MD, and colleagues noted. Read more. 

Five healthy lifestyle choices tied to dramatic cut in dementia risk

Combining four of five healthy lifestyle choices has been linked to up to a 60% reduced risk for Alzheimer’s dementia in new research that strengthens ties between healthy behaviors and lower dementia risk. “I hope this study will motivate people to engage in a healthy lifestyle by not smoking, being physically and cognitively active, and having a high-quality diet,” lead investigator Klodian Dhana, MD, PhD, said in an interview. 

They defined a healthy lifestyle score on the basis of the following factors: not smoking; engaging in 150 min/wk or more of physical exercise; light to moderate alcohol consumption; consuming a high-quality Mediterranean-DASH Diet Intervention for Neurodegenerative Delay diet (upper 40%); and engaging in late-life cognitive activities.

“What needs to be determined is how early should we start ‘behaving.’ We should all aim to score four to five factors across our entire lifespan, but this is not always feasible. So, when is the time to behave? Also, what is the relative weight of each of these factors?” said Luca Giliberto, MD, PhD. Read more.

Marijuana for migraine? Some tentative evidence

Medical marijuana may have promise for managing headache pain, according to results from a small study conducted at the Jefferson Headache Center at Thomas Jefferson University. The researchers found general satisfaction with medical marijuana, more frequent use as an abortive medication rather than a preventative, and more than two-thirds using the inhaled form rather than oral.

“A lot of patients are interested in medical marijuana but don’t know how to integrate it into the therapy plan they already have – whether it should be just to treat bad headaches when they happen, or is it meant to be a preventive medicine they use every day? We have some data out there that it can be helpful, but not a lot of specific information to guide your recommendations,” said Jefferson headache fellow Claire Ceriani, MD, in an interview. Read more.

Inside Mercy’s mission to care for non-COVID patients in Los Angeles

When the hospital ship USNS Mercy departed San Diego’s Naval Station North Island on March 23, 2020, to support the Department of Defense efforts in Los Angeles during the coronavirus outbreak, Commander Erin Blevins remembers the crew’s excitement was palpable. “We normally do partnerships abroad and respond to tsunamis and earthquakes,” said Cdr. Blevins, MD, a pediatric hematologist-oncologist who served as director of medical services for the mission.

Between March 29 and May 15, about 1,071 medical personnel aboard the Mercy cared for 77 patients with an average age of 53 years who were referred from 11 Los Angeles area hospitals. 

Care aboard the ship ranged from basic medical and surgical care to critical care and trauma. The most common procedures were cholecystectomies and orthopedic procedures, and the average length of stay was 4-5 days, according to Cdr. Blevins. Over the course of the mission, the medical professionals conducted 36 surgeries, 77 x-ray exams, 26 CT scans, and administered hundreds of ancillary studies ranging from routine labs to high-end x-rays and blood transfusion support. Special Feature.

For more on COVID-19, visit our Resource Center. All of our latest news is available on MDedge.com.

Here are the stories our MDedge editors across specialties think you need to know about today:

First reported U.S. case of COVID-19 linked to Guillain-Barré syndrome

The first official U.S. case of Guillain-Barré syndrome (GBS) associated with COVID-19 has been reported by neurologists from Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh, further supporting a link between the virus and neurologic complications, including GBS.

Physicians in China reported the first case that initially presented as acute GBS. Subsequently, physicians in Italy reported five cases of GBS in association with COVID-19.

“This onset is similar to a case report of acute Zika virus infection with concurrent GBS suggesting a parainfectious complication,” first author Sandeep Rana, MD, and colleagues noted. Read more. 

Five healthy lifestyle choices tied to dramatic cut in dementia risk

Combining four of five healthy lifestyle choices has been linked to up to a 60% reduced risk for Alzheimer’s dementia in new research that strengthens ties between healthy behaviors and lower dementia risk. “I hope this study will motivate people to engage in a healthy lifestyle by not smoking, being physically and cognitively active, and having a high-quality diet,” lead investigator Klodian Dhana, MD, PhD, said in an interview. 

They defined a healthy lifestyle score on the basis of the following factors: not smoking; engaging in 150 min/wk or more of physical exercise; light to moderate alcohol consumption; consuming a high-quality Mediterranean-DASH Diet Intervention for Neurodegenerative Delay diet (upper 40%); and engaging in late-life cognitive activities.

“What needs to be determined is how early should we start ‘behaving.’ We should all aim to score four to five factors across our entire lifespan, but this is not always feasible. So, when is the time to behave? Also, what is the relative weight of each of these factors?” said Luca Giliberto, MD, PhD. Read more.

Marijuana for migraine? Some tentative evidence

Medical marijuana may have promise for managing headache pain, according to results from a small study conducted at the Jefferson Headache Center at Thomas Jefferson University. The researchers found general satisfaction with medical marijuana, more frequent use as an abortive medication rather than a preventative, and more than two-thirds using the inhaled form rather than oral.

“A lot of patients are interested in medical marijuana but don’t know how to integrate it into the therapy plan they already have – whether it should be just to treat bad headaches when they happen, or is it meant to be a preventive medicine they use every day? We have some data out there that it can be helpful, but not a lot of specific information to guide your recommendations,” said Jefferson headache fellow Claire Ceriani, MD, in an interview. Read more.

Inside Mercy’s mission to care for non-COVID patients in Los Angeles

When the hospital ship USNS Mercy departed San Diego’s Naval Station North Island on March 23, 2020, to support the Department of Defense efforts in Los Angeles during the coronavirus outbreak, Commander Erin Blevins remembers the crew’s excitement was palpable. “We normally do partnerships abroad and respond to tsunamis and earthquakes,” said Cdr. Blevins, MD, a pediatric hematologist-oncologist who served as director of medical services for the mission.

Between March 29 and May 15, about 1,071 medical personnel aboard the Mercy cared for 77 patients with an average age of 53 years who were referred from 11 Los Angeles area hospitals. 

Care aboard the ship ranged from basic medical and surgical care to critical care and trauma. The most common procedures were cholecystectomies and orthopedic procedures, and the average length of stay was 4-5 days, according to Cdr. Blevins. Over the course of the mission, the medical professionals conducted 36 surgeries, 77 x-ray exams, 26 CT scans, and administered hundreds of ancillary studies ranging from routine labs to high-end x-rays and blood transfusion support. Special Feature.

For more on COVID-19, visit our Resource Center. All of our latest news is available on MDedge.com.

When the hospital ship USNS Mercy departed San Diego’s Naval Station North Island on March 23, 2020, to support the Department of Defense efforts in Los Angeles during the coronavirus outbreak, Commander Erin Blevins remembers the crew’s excitement was palpable.

“We normally do partnerships abroad and respond to tsunamis and earthquakes,” said Cdr. Blevins, MD, a pediatric hematologist-oncologist who served as director of medical services for the mission. “This was a slight change in situation, but still disaster relief in the form of a pandemic. We switched our mindset to putting together the best experts for an infectious disease pandemic versus an earthquake disaster relief.”
 

A new mission

Photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Timothy E. Heaps

The 1,000-bed Mercy ship – a converted San Clemente–class oil tanker that was delivered in 1986 – spent nearly 50 days pier side in Los Angeles as a referral hospital for non–COVID-19 patients, so that clinicians at Los Angeles area hospitals could care for an anticipated surge of COVID-19 patients. “We went into it with expectations of, ‘We’ll treat as many patients as you need us to take,” Cdr. Blevins recalled. “I don’t even think Los Angeles [health officials] knew exactly where they were going to peak and what the need was going to be.”

Between March 29 and May 15, about 1,071 medical personnel aboard the Mercy cared for 77 patients with an average age of 53 years who were referred from 11 Los Angeles area hospitals. The physicians, nurses, and other medical support personnel were drawn from military treatment facilities across the country. “We had additional people join us as we scoped the mission to be more medically heavy and surgically light,” said Captain John Rotruck, MD, an anesthesiologist who is commanding officer of Mercy’s medical treatment facility. “We did adjust to make sure that we had the right staffing mix to meet the parameters that we were assigned. That was the crux of the change: a change in flavors of staffing to ensure that we focused on ICU and ward medical care as opposed to very heavy surgical care in support of a combat operation.”

Courtesy Petty Officer 1st Class David Mora

About 10% of the team consisted of reservists who volunteered for the mission. “There’s no way you could have walked around the ship and known who was active duty and who was reservist,” said Capt. Rotruck, who was formerly chief of staff at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Bethesda, Md. “They worked together so well, and I think that marriage of active duty who are used to working in a military medical treatment facility – in our case, a Navy medical treatment facility – together with our reservist physician colleagues who work in civilian facilities around the country, was beneficial. It was a synergistic relationship. I think both sides walked away learning quite a bit from each other.”
 

Start with screening

All crew members underwent a temperature check and completed a health screening questionnaire: once before departing their home of record and again before boarding Mercy. Based on those results, crew members and medical staff were screened for COVID-19 and tested as needed in order to minimize the risk of an outbreak aboard the ship.

Fewer than 1% of crew members developed COVID-19 or tested positive for the virus during the mission, according to Capt. Rotruck. Affected individuals were isolated and quarantined. “All staff have recovered and are doing well,” he said.

Mercy personnel worked with local health officials to ensure that all patients transferred to the ship tested negative for COVID-19. Physicians aboard the Mercy then worked directly with the patients’ civilian physician to ensure a safe and thorough turnover process before the patients were transferred.
 

From basic medical to trauma care

Courtesy Petty Officer 2nd Class Erwin Jacob Miciano

Care aboard the ship, which consists of open-bay medical wards, ranged from basic medical and surgical care to critical care and trauma. The most common procedures were cholecystectomies and orthopedic procedures, and the average length of stay was 4-5 days, according to Cdr. Blevins. Over the course of the mission, the medical professionals conducted 36 surgeries, 77 x-ray exams, 26 CT scans, and administered hundreds of ancillary studies ranging from routine labs to high-end x-rays and blood transfusion support.

“Within our ICU, we did have some end-of-life patients who ended up dying on our ship in comfort care,” Cdr. Blevins said. “Fortunately, we had a wonderful ICU team who had a great deal of experience with end-of-life care and were able to take care of these patients very comfortably and ensure good communication with family and loved ones during that time. In most instances we tried to make sure that people got to FaceTime or video chat with their loved one before they passed away.”

Photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Jacob L. Greenberg

The Mercy, which includes 12 operating rooms, four x-ray units, and one CAT-scan unit, was not equipped to deliver pediatric or obstetrical care. Other unavailable services included psychiatry, oncology, cardiac and thoracic surgery, nuclear medicine, MRI, mammography, electrophysiology, cardiac catheterization, negative-pressure isolation, speech therapy, and occupational therapy.
 

Not your typical hospital experience

But for patients who did receive medical care aboard the Mercy – which made three 150-day deployments in recent years for the military-led humanitarian response known as Pacific Partnership in 2015, 2016, and 2018 – it was an experience that they are unlikely to forget.

“Every time a patient left the ship, our team on the ground surveyed them to see how their experience was and see what we could do to improve,” Cdr. Blevins said. “Across the board, they were all very appreciative of the medical care. We had a couple of veterans on board. They got [USNS Mercy] hats on their way out and seemed to very much enjoy a slightly different experience than they would get at a regular hospital.”

Capt. Rotruck added that the enthusiasm crew members had for supporting fellow Americans “really energized our team and really saturated that caring aspect of the people who interacted directly with patients,” he said. “It wasn’t just the physicians and nurses, but it was the staff delivering the food and coming to take blood samples and every other interaction that the patients had with our team. I think they really felt that enthusiasm for being there and supporting our neighbors in LA [Los Angeles].”
 

Crew life aboard the Mercy

Just as with any hospital on shore, personnel aboard the Mercy practiced preventive hygiene measures recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to help prevent the spread of COVID-19, such as wearing cloth face masks, spacing out tables in the dining hall, closing indoor gyms, and devising creative ways to stay physically fit. Popular options included jogging around the perimeter of the ship and practicing yoga and calisthenics on the deck, “making sure you were physically distanced appropriately, and when you were done, putting your mask back on,” Cdr. Blevins said. Others supplemented their workouts with a pull-up bar on the deck. “In addition, we have a series of ramps that run on the starboard side of the ship that we can use for patient movement with litters on wheels or patient beds,” Capt. Rotruck said. “The uphill portion of those ramps represents a good workout opportunity as well.”

Downtime in an era of physical distancing also afforded crew members the opportunity to call or FaceTime with loved ones, watch streamed TV shows and movies, and work on their own professional development. Some continued with coursework for online degree programs offered by colleges and universities they were enrolled in, while some enlisted personnel used the time to complete the Navy Enlisted Warfare Qualification Programs Instruction, which issues the basic overarching requirements for the qualification and designation of all enlisted warfare programs.

“As you can imagine, people spend a lot of time learning how the ship works and how it integrates into larger naval forces and so forth,” Capt. Rotruck said. “Not just our ship but also other ships: their weapons systems and defense mechanisms and navigation systems. We had people spending a significant amount of time working on that. We had people complete their Enlisted Surface Warfare qualification while we were on the mission.”
 

End of the mission

Mercy returned to its home base in San Diego on May 15, but about 60 medical personnel stayed behind in Los Angeles to support Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), state, and local health care professionals. Some worked at a site where clinicians provided care for COVID-19–positive patients who had been transferred from area skilled nursing facilities.

In addition, a team consisting of one nurse and five corpsmen “would go out to individual skilled nursing facilities and mainly conduct assessments and training, such as training in donning proper PPE [personal protective equipment] and determining what needs they had,” Capt. Rotruck said. “They met those needs if possible or [communicated with California officials] and let them know what the requirements were and what the needs were in that facility.” The assignment for those who stayed behind ended on May 31.

On the opposite coast, Mercy’s sister ship, USNS Comfort, arrived in New York Harbor from Norfolk, Va., on March 30 and spent 3½ weeks assisting area hospitals in the COVID-19 pandemic fight. A few days into the mission, Comfort’s internal spaces were reconfigured to create separate COVID-negative and COVID-positive sections. Medical teams aboard the ship cared for a total of 182 patients during the assignment.

Looking back on Mercy’s mission, Cdr. Blevins marveled at the sense of teamwork that unfolded. “We have quarterly training exercises with a core set of personnel, [and] we train getting ready for activation in 5 days,” she said. “All of that training kicks in and it comes to fruition in a mission like this. It was terrific to see a group of very disparate subject matter experts from all over the country come together with one purpose: which was to serve our own country during the pandemic.”

Capt. Rotruck pointed out that the experience enabled enlisted and nonenlisted physicians to maintain their skill sets during a time when military and civilian hospitals had stopped doing elective procedures and routine appointments. “The fact that those people were able to come on board the ship and continue to conduct their medical practice and maintain their skills and competencies in an environment that they weren’t quite used to is great,” he said. “Otherwise, some of those medical personnel would have been sitting idle, wherever they were from. This is the power of Navy medicine on behalf of our country.”

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When the hospital ship USNS Mercy departed San Diego’s Naval Station North Island on March 23, 2020, to support the Department of Defense efforts in Los Angeles during the coronavirus outbreak, Commander Erin Blevins remembers the crew’s excitement was palpable.

“We normally do partnerships abroad and respond to tsunamis and earthquakes,” said Cdr. Blevins, MD, a pediatric hematologist-oncologist who served as director of medical services for the mission. “This was a slight change in situation, but still disaster relief in the form of a pandemic. We switched our mindset to putting together the best experts for an infectious disease pandemic versus an earthquake disaster relief.”
 

A new mission

Photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Timothy E. Heaps

The 1,000-bed Mercy ship – a converted San Clemente–class oil tanker that was delivered in 1986 – spent nearly 50 days pier side in Los Angeles as a referral hospital for non–COVID-19 patients, so that clinicians at Los Angeles area hospitals could care for an anticipated surge of COVID-19 patients. “We went into it with expectations of, ‘We’ll treat as many patients as you need us to take,” Cdr. Blevins recalled. “I don’t even think Los Angeles [health officials] knew exactly where they were going to peak and what the need was going to be.”

Between March 29 and May 15, about 1,071 medical personnel aboard the Mercy cared for 77 patients with an average age of 53 years who were referred from 11 Los Angeles area hospitals. The physicians, nurses, and other medical support personnel were drawn from military treatment facilities across the country. “We had additional people join us as we scoped the mission to be more medically heavy and surgically light,” said Captain John Rotruck, MD, an anesthesiologist who is commanding officer of Mercy’s medical treatment facility. “We did adjust to make sure that we had the right staffing mix to meet the parameters that we were assigned. That was the crux of the change: a change in flavors of staffing to ensure that we focused on ICU and ward medical care as opposed to very heavy surgical care in support of a combat operation.”

Courtesy Petty Officer 1st Class David Mora

About 10% of the team consisted of reservists who volunteered for the mission. “There’s no way you could have walked around the ship and known who was active duty and who was reservist,” said Capt. Rotruck, who was formerly chief of staff at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Bethesda, Md. “They worked together so well, and I think that marriage of active duty who are used to working in a military medical treatment facility – in our case, a Navy medical treatment facility – together with our reservist physician colleagues who work in civilian facilities around the country, was beneficial. It was a synergistic relationship. I think both sides walked away learning quite a bit from each other.”
 

Start with screening

All crew members underwent a temperature check and completed a health screening questionnaire: once before departing their home of record and again before boarding Mercy. Based on those results, crew members and medical staff were screened for COVID-19 and tested as needed in order to minimize the risk of an outbreak aboard the ship.

Fewer than 1% of crew members developed COVID-19 or tested positive for the virus during the mission, according to Capt. Rotruck. Affected individuals were isolated and quarantined. “All staff have recovered and are doing well,” he said.

Mercy personnel worked with local health officials to ensure that all patients transferred to the ship tested negative for COVID-19. Physicians aboard the Mercy then worked directly with the patients’ civilian physician to ensure a safe and thorough turnover process before the patients were transferred.
 

From basic medical to trauma care

Courtesy Petty Officer 2nd Class Erwin Jacob Miciano

Care aboard the ship, which consists of open-bay medical wards, ranged from basic medical and surgical care to critical care and trauma. The most common procedures were cholecystectomies and orthopedic procedures, and the average length of stay was 4-5 days, according to Cdr. Blevins. Over the course of the mission, the medical professionals conducted 36 surgeries, 77 x-ray exams, 26 CT scans, and administered hundreds of ancillary studies ranging from routine labs to high-end x-rays and blood transfusion support.

“Within our ICU, we did have some end-of-life patients who ended up dying on our ship in comfort care,” Cdr. Blevins said. “Fortunately, we had a wonderful ICU team who had a great deal of experience with end-of-life care and were able to take care of these patients very comfortably and ensure good communication with family and loved ones during that time. In most instances we tried to make sure that people got to FaceTime or video chat with their loved one before they passed away.”

Photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Jacob L. Greenberg

The Mercy, which includes 12 operating rooms, four x-ray units, and one CAT-scan unit, was not equipped to deliver pediatric or obstetrical care. Other unavailable services included psychiatry, oncology, cardiac and thoracic surgery, nuclear medicine, MRI, mammography, electrophysiology, cardiac catheterization, negative-pressure isolation, speech therapy, and occupational therapy.
 

Not your typical hospital experience

But for patients who did receive medical care aboard the Mercy – which made three 150-day deployments in recent years for the military-led humanitarian response known as Pacific Partnership in 2015, 2016, and 2018 – it was an experience that they are unlikely to forget.

“Every time a patient left the ship, our team on the ground surveyed them to see how their experience was and see what we could do to improve,” Cdr. Blevins said. “Across the board, they were all very appreciative of the medical care. We had a couple of veterans on board. They got [USNS Mercy] hats on their way out and seemed to very much enjoy a slightly different experience than they would get at a regular hospital.”

Capt. Rotruck added that the enthusiasm crew members had for supporting fellow Americans “really energized our team and really saturated that caring aspect of the people who interacted directly with patients,” he said. “It wasn’t just the physicians and nurses, but it was the staff delivering the food and coming to take blood samples and every other interaction that the patients had with our team. I think they really felt that enthusiasm for being there and supporting our neighbors in LA [Los Angeles].”
 

Crew life aboard the Mercy

Just as with any hospital on shore, personnel aboard the Mercy practiced preventive hygiene measures recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to help prevent the spread of COVID-19, such as wearing cloth face masks, spacing out tables in the dining hall, closing indoor gyms, and devising creative ways to stay physically fit. Popular options included jogging around the perimeter of the ship and practicing yoga and calisthenics on the deck, “making sure you were physically distanced appropriately, and when you were done, putting your mask back on,” Cdr. Blevins said. Others supplemented their workouts with a pull-up bar on the deck. “In addition, we have a series of ramps that run on the starboard side of the ship that we can use for patient movement with litters on wheels or patient beds,” Capt. Rotruck said. “The uphill portion of those ramps represents a good workout opportunity as well.”

Downtime in an era of physical distancing also afforded crew members the opportunity to call or FaceTime with loved ones, watch streamed TV shows and movies, and work on their own professional development. Some continued with coursework for online degree programs offered by colleges and universities they were enrolled in, while some enlisted personnel used the time to complete the Navy Enlisted Warfare Qualification Programs Instruction, which issues the basic overarching requirements for the qualification and designation of all enlisted warfare programs.

“As you can imagine, people spend a lot of time learning how the ship works and how it integrates into larger naval forces and so forth,” Capt. Rotruck said. “Not just our ship but also other ships: their weapons systems and defense mechanisms and navigation systems. We had people spending a significant amount of time working on that. We had people complete their Enlisted Surface Warfare qualification while we were on the mission.”
 

End of the mission

Mercy returned to its home base in San Diego on May 15, but about 60 medical personnel stayed behind in Los Angeles to support Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), state, and local health care professionals. Some worked at a site where clinicians provided care for COVID-19–positive patients who had been transferred from area skilled nursing facilities.

In addition, a team consisting of one nurse and five corpsmen “would go out to individual skilled nursing facilities and mainly conduct assessments and training, such as training in donning proper PPE [personal protective equipment] and determining what needs they had,” Capt. Rotruck said. “They met those needs if possible or [communicated with California officials] and let them know what the requirements were and what the needs were in that facility.” The assignment for those who stayed behind ended on May 31.

On the opposite coast, Mercy’s sister ship, USNS Comfort, arrived in New York Harbor from Norfolk, Va., on March 30 and spent 3½ weeks assisting area hospitals in the COVID-19 pandemic fight. A few days into the mission, Comfort’s internal spaces were reconfigured to create separate COVID-negative and COVID-positive sections. Medical teams aboard the ship cared for a total of 182 patients during the assignment.

Looking back on Mercy’s mission, Cdr. Blevins marveled at the sense of teamwork that unfolded. “We have quarterly training exercises with a core set of personnel, [and] we train getting ready for activation in 5 days,” she said. “All of that training kicks in and it comes to fruition in a mission like this. It was terrific to see a group of very disparate subject matter experts from all over the country come together with one purpose: which was to serve our own country during the pandemic.”

Capt. Rotruck pointed out that the experience enabled enlisted and nonenlisted physicians to maintain their skill sets during a time when military and civilian hospitals had stopped doing elective procedures and routine appointments. “The fact that those people were able to come on board the ship and continue to conduct their medical practice and maintain their skills and competencies in an environment that they weren’t quite used to is great,” he said. “Otherwise, some of those medical personnel would have been sitting idle, wherever they were from. This is the power of Navy medicine on behalf of our country.”

[email protected]

When the hospital ship USNS Mercy departed San Diego’s Naval Station North Island on March 23, 2020, to support the Department of Defense efforts in Los Angeles during the coronavirus outbreak, Commander Erin Blevins remembers the crew’s excitement was palpable.

“We normally do partnerships abroad and respond to tsunamis and earthquakes,” said Cdr. Blevins, MD, a pediatric hematologist-oncologist who served as director of medical services for the mission. “This was a slight change in situation, but still disaster relief in the form of a pandemic. We switched our mindset to putting together the best experts for an infectious disease pandemic versus an earthquake disaster relief.”
 

A new mission

Photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Timothy E. Heaps

The 1,000-bed Mercy ship – a converted San Clemente–class oil tanker that was delivered in 1986 – spent nearly 50 days pier side in Los Angeles as a referral hospital for non–COVID-19 patients, so that clinicians at Los Angeles area hospitals could care for an anticipated surge of COVID-19 patients. “We went into it with expectations of, ‘We’ll treat as many patients as you need us to take,” Cdr. Blevins recalled. “I don’t even think Los Angeles [health officials] knew exactly where they were going to peak and what the need was going to be.”

Between March 29 and May 15, about 1,071 medical personnel aboard the Mercy cared for 77 patients with an average age of 53 years who were referred from 11 Los Angeles area hospitals. The physicians, nurses, and other medical support personnel were drawn from military treatment facilities across the country. “We had additional people join us as we scoped the mission to be more medically heavy and surgically light,” said Captain John Rotruck, MD, an anesthesiologist who is commanding officer of Mercy’s medical treatment facility. “We did adjust to make sure that we had the right staffing mix to meet the parameters that we were assigned. That was the crux of the change: a change in flavors of staffing to ensure that we focused on ICU and ward medical care as opposed to very heavy surgical care in support of a combat operation.”

Courtesy Petty Officer 1st Class David Mora

About 10% of the team consisted of reservists who volunteered for the mission. “There’s no way you could have walked around the ship and known who was active duty and who was reservist,” said Capt. Rotruck, who was formerly chief of staff at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Bethesda, Md. “They worked together so well, and I think that marriage of active duty who are used to working in a military medical treatment facility – in our case, a Navy medical treatment facility – together with our reservist physician colleagues who work in civilian facilities around the country, was beneficial. It was a synergistic relationship. I think both sides walked away learning quite a bit from each other.”
 

Start with screening

All crew members underwent a temperature check and completed a health screening questionnaire: once before departing their home of record and again before boarding Mercy. Based on those results, crew members and medical staff were screened for COVID-19 and tested as needed in order to minimize the risk of an outbreak aboard the ship.

Fewer than 1% of crew members developed COVID-19 or tested positive for the virus during the mission, according to Capt. Rotruck. Affected individuals were isolated and quarantined. “All staff have recovered and are doing well,” he said.

Mercy personnel worked with local health officials to ensure that all patients transferred to the ship tested negative for COVID-19. Physicians aboard the Mercy then worked directly with the patients’ civilian physician to ensure a safe and thorough turnover process before the patients were transferred.
 

From basic medical to trauma care

Courtesy Petty Officer 2nd Class Erwin Jacob Miciano

Care aboard the ship, which consists of open-bay medical wards, ranged from basic medical and surgical care to critical care and trauma. The most common procedures were cholecystectomies and orthopedic procedures, and the average length of stay was 4-5 days, according to Cdr. Blevins. Over the course of the mission, the medical professionals conducted 36 surgeries, 77 x-ray exams, 26 CT scans, and administered hundreds of ancillary studies ranging from routine labs to high-end x-rays and blood transfusion support.

“Within our ICU, we did have some end-of-life patients who ended up dying on our ship in comfort care,” Cdr. Blevins said. “Fortunately, we had a wonderful ICU team who had a great deal of experience with end-of-life care and were able to take care of these patients very comfortably and ensure good communication with family and loved ones during that time. In most instances we tried to make sure that people got to FaceTime or video chat with their loved one before they passed away.”

Photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Jacob L. Greenberg

The Mercy, which includes 12 operating rooms, four x-ray units, and one CAT-scan unit, was not equipped to deliver pediatric or obstetrical care. Other unavailable services included psychiatry, oncology, cardiac and thoracic surgery, nuclear medicine, MRI, mammography, electrophysiology, cardiac catheterization, negative-pressure isolation, speech therapy, and occupational therapy.
 

Not your typical hospital experience

But for patients who did receive medical care aboard the Mercy – which made three 150-day deployments in recent years for the military-led humanitarian response known as Pacific Partnership in 2015, 2016, and 2018 – it was an experience that they are unlikely to forget.

“Every time a patient left the ship, our team on the ground surveyed them to see how their experience was and see what we could do to improve,” Cdr. Blevins said. “Across the board, they were all very appreciative of the medical care. We had a couple of veterans on board. They got [USNS Mercy] hats on their way out and seemed to very much enjoy a slightly different experience than they would get at a regular hospital.”

Capt. Rotruck added that the enthusiasm crew members had for supporting fellow Americans “really energized our team and really saturated that caring aspect of the people who interacted directly with patients,” he said. “It wasn’t just the physicians and nurses, but it was the staff delivering the food and coming to take blood samples and every other interaction that the patients had with our team. I think they really felt that enthusiasm for being there and supporting our neighbors in LA [Los Angeles].”
 

Crew life aboard the Mercy

Just as with any hospital on shore, personnel aboard the Mercy practiced preventive hygiene measures recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to help prevent the spread of COVID-19, such as wearing cloth face masks, spacing out tables in the dining hall, closing indoor gyms, and devising creative ways to stay physically fit. Popular options included jogging around the perimeter of the ship and practicing yoga and calisthenics on the deck, “making sure you were physically distanced appropriately, and when you were done, putting your mask back on,” Cdr. Blevins said. Others supplemented their workouts with a pull-up bar on the deck. “In addition, we have a series of ramps that run on the starboard side of the ship that we can use for patient movement with litters on wheels or patient beds,” Capt. Rotruck said. “The uphill portion of those ramps represents a good workout opportunity as well.”

Downtime in an era of physical distancing also afforded crew members the opportunity to call or FaceTime with loved ones, watch streamed TV shows and movies, and work on their own professional development. Some continued with coursework for online degree programs offered by colleges and universities they were enrolled in, while some enlisted personnel used the time to complete the Navy Enlisted Warfare Qualification Programs Instruction, which issues the basic overarching requirements for the qualification and designation of all enlisted warfare programs.

“As you can imagine, people spend a lot of time learning how the ship works and how it integrates into larger naval forces and so forth,” Capt. Rotruck said. “Not just our ship but also other ships: their weapons systems and defense mechanisms and navigation systems. We had people spending a significant amount of time working on that. We had people complete their Enlisted Surface Warfare qualification while we were on the mission.”
 

End of the mission

Mercy returned to its home base in San Diego on May 15, but about 60 medical personnel stayed behind in Los Angeles to support Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), state, and local health care professionals. Some worked at a site where clinicians provided care for COVID-19–positive patients who had been transferred from area skilled nursing facilities.

In addition, a team consisting of one nurse and five corpsmen “would go out to individual skilled nursing facilities and mainly conduct assessments and training, such as training in donning proper PPE [personal protective equipment] and determining what needs they had,” Capt. Rotruck said. “They met those needs if possible or [communicated with California officials] and let them know what the requirements were and what the needs were in that facility.” The assignment for those who stayed behind ended on May 31.

On the opposite coast, Mercy’s sister ship, USNS Comfort, arrived in New York Harbor from Norfolk, Va., on March 30 and spent 3½ weeks assisting area hospitals in the COVID-19 pandemic fight. A few days into the mission, Comfort’s internal spaces were reconfigured to create separate COVID-negative and COVID-positive sections. Medical teams aboard the ship cared for a total of 182 patients during the assignment.

Looking back on Mercy’s mission, Cdr. Blevins marveled at the sense of teamwork that unfolded. “We have quarterly training exercises with a core set of personnel, [and] we train getting ready for activation in 5 days,” she said. “All of that training kicks in and it comes to fruition in a mission like this. It was terrific to see a group of very disparate subject matter experts from all over the country come together with one purpose: which was to serve our own country during the pandemic.”

Capt. Rotruck pointed out that the experience enabled enlisted and nonenlisted physicians to maintain their skill sets during a time when military and civilian hospitals had stopped doing elective procedures and routine appointments. “The fact that those people were able to come on board the ship and continue to conduct their medical practice and maintain their skills and competencies in an environment that they weren’t quite used to is great,” he said. “Otherwise, some of those medical personnel would have been sitting idle, wherever they were from. This is the power of Navy medicine on behalf of our country.”

[email protected]

By the time she was discharged from a suburban New Jersey hospital on April 10, Kathleen Ronan thought the worst was behind her. For a week before her husband rushed her to the emergency department (ED), incoherent and struggling to breathe, the novel coronavirus had ravaged her body. She tried to treat her fevers with acetaminophen and ice packs. Despite taking enough Tylenol to risk liver damage and packing herself on ice like the catch of the day, Ronan’s fever continued to rise. By the time her temperature reached 104.5° F, Ronan knew the time had come for more drastic measures.

A team of masked and gowned nurses greeted her at a triage tent outside the ED, and from there, everything becomes hazy for Ronan. She was immediately rushed to the hospital’s special COVID-19 intensive care unit (ICU), where she spent 5 days. But she has few distinct memories from this time. What she does remember is the exhaustion, the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. Her family couldn’t visit, and though Ronan works as a home health nurse, her brain was so addled with fever that she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. After a week in the hospital, 5 days of which were spent in the ICU, 51-year-old Ronan was discharged.

Her years of working as a home health nurse told her that the return home wouldn’t be easy, but nothing prepared her for just how much she would struggle. The once-active Ronan, who had supplemented long days on her feet caring for others as a nurse with regular trips to the gym, now needed a walker to traverse the few steps from her bed to the toilet, an effort that left her gasping for air. Her brain couldn’t even focus on an audiobook, let alone a short magazine article.

“It just completely knocked the stuffing out of me,” Ronan said.

Ronan’s lingering symptoms aren’t unique to COVID-19 patients. In as many as 80% of patients leaving the ICU, researchers have documented what they call post–intensive care syndrome (PICS) — a constellation of physical, cognitive, and psychiatric symptoms that result from an ICU stay. Although underlying illness plays a role in these symptoms, the amount of time spent in critical care is a major factor.

Nor is PICS simply a set of side effects that will go away on their own. It includes ongoing cognitive difficulties and physical weakness, both of which can lead to employment problems. Beyond that, depression and anxiety can exacerbate – and be exacerbated by – these challenges. Psychologist Jim Jackson, PsyD, assistant director of the ICU Recovery Center at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville, Tennessee, recently spoke with a former ICU patient who has struggled since her discharge 30 years ago.

“Her life essentially stopped with her critical care stay. She hasn’t been able to move forward,” he said. “She’s part of a whole fraternity of people who are struggling.”

The good news is that over the past decade, researchers have made important strides in understanding what makes PICS symptoms worse and how critical care physicians can tweak ICU protocols to reduce PICS severity. Practitioners will need to draw on this knowledge to help Ronan and the thousands of COVID-19 ICU patients like her.
 

Surviving the ICU

Although the new coronavirus has pushed the world’s critical care system to its limits, it was an outbreak in 1952 that inspired the creation of intensive care units. That summer, a wave of paralytic polio swept over Copenhagen, Denmark, and anesthesiologist Bjørn Ibsen, MD, PhD, used mechanical ventilation — physically operated by medical and dental students – to help 316 children breathe for weeks at a time while their small bodies worked to fight off the virus. The effort halved the mortality rate from polio that affected breathing, from 80% to 40%.

In these wards, dedicated to the very sickest, each patient was assigned his or her own nurse. Over the next decade, hospitals in the United Kingdom and the United States established their own ICUs to treat patients with a variety of conditions. Although it helped improve survival, mortality rates in critical care units remained stubbornly high, owing to the patients’ severe underlying illnesses.

“We thought we were doing a good job if the patient survived, but we had no idea what happened after discharge,” said Carla Sevin, MD, medical director of Vanderbilt’s ICU Recovery Center. Nor did their efforts to find out always bring answers. “We struggled to get people to come in for support — they were debilitated, physically burdened, and weak.”

Through further advances in life support, by the early 2000s, the average mortality rates in American ICUs had dropped to 8% to 19%. As the number of critical care survivors began to climb, clinical researchers noticed that the lives of these patients and their families were profoundly altered by their severe illness.

As Dale Needham, MD, PhD, began his pulmonology and critical care residency in Toronto, Canada, in 2005, a group of physicians there began a 5-year longitudinal study to assess long-term outcomes of patients who developed acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Although ARDS is an acute condition, the investigators found that patients felt effects for years. Younger patients recovered better than older ones, but none of the patients› physical functioning was equivalent to that of age-matched control persons. Even 5 years later, former ICU patients only reached 76% of expected physical functioning, according to results published in the New England Journal of Medicine. The study was a wake-up call.

At a meeting in Chicago in 2010, Needham, now an intensivist at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, gathered an interdisciplinary group of colleagues, including patients and caregivers, to clarify the phenomena they were seeing. What emerged from that meeting, published in 2012 in Critical Care Medicine, were the diagnostic criteria for PICS: According to the new definition, PICS is characterized by new or worsening physical and neuropsychiatric deficits that range from forgetfulness and loss of motivation to physical weakness and insomnia.

The issue, Needham says, is that although the trouble starts in the ICU, it only becomes clear once patients leave. “ICU doctors aren’t the ones dealing with this,” Needham said. “We need to build stronger bridges between critical care and other professions.” That’s where PICS comes in, a definition that exists explicitly to alert healthcare providers about the constellation of challenges many of these individuals face as they try to reenter “normal” life.
 

Defining the problem

As an ICU nurse at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, Annie Johnson, ACNP-BC, knew lots about helping hospitalized patients, but she says she didn’t know anything about what to do after discharge – at least not until her own mother became a patient.

On the first day of retirement in October 2014, Johnson’s mother flatlined. Quick-thinking paramedics resuscitated her, and after several days in critical care, she was discharged. Since then, her heart has remained healthy. Johnson’s sister, who spent time worrying over her mother at the hospital, also had lingering effects. Both have since struggled, plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia.

Johnson initially believed her mom’s and sister’s neuropsychiatric, post-ICU struggles were unique to her family. It was only a year later, at a seminar she was attending, that she first heard the words “post–intensive care syndrome.” Suddenly, Johnson had a name for her family’s experiences, and she began to create support groups and resources to help other families like hers.

“I thought of all the patients I had treated over the years who had been on ventilators for days and days and days. And if this happened to my mom after 48 hours, what must they be going through?” she asked.

Once physicians formally defined PICS, the Society for Critical Care Medicine helped create programs to educate ICU staff, patients, and families about potential post-discharge challenges. Researchers also began to investigate factors affecting post-ICU functioning. Follow-up studies of patients with delirium (ranging from general confusion about time and place to extreme agitation and violence) showed they had striking cognitive deficits. Problems with short-term memory, flexible thinking, and motivation plagued patients for years after their critical illness, similar to the physical deficiencies seen after ARDS. Delirium was one of the strongest risk factors for neuropsychiatric problems.

“Delirium is basically a stress test for the brain,” said Babar Khan, MD, a critical care specialist at Indiana University’s Regenstrief Institute, in Bloomington. But whether delirium accentuates preexisting cognitive difficulties or creates them afresh isn’t yet clear.

Sophia Wang, MD, a geriatric psychiatrist at Indiana University who works with many critical care patients, says patients who had experienced delirium in the ICU showed significant defects in memory and executive functioning long after their hospital stay. She points to a 2015 study that followed 47 ICU patients for a year post discharge. Among those who experienced delirium, brain volumes, as measured by MRI, were smaller at 3 months, something associated with cognitive problems at 1 year. Many struggled at work, and unemployment was common. Depression and posttraumatic stress compounded these difficulties. Among those with acute respiratory distress, ICU patients who are young, female, and unemployed are most likely to suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder after they are discharge.

Critical care medicine may have given these patients a second chance at life, Wang says, but the life they return to often looks nothing like the one they had before their illness.

Prolonged mechanical ventilation and the heavy sedation that often accompanies it are predictors of PICS severity. Some of these links could be explained by the gravity of the illness that landed someone in critical care, but others are more likely to be iatrogenic, says Gerald Weinhouse, MD, a pulmonology and critical care physician and co-director of the Critical Illness Recovery Program at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. The involvement of loved ones at the patient’s bedside, however, improved the entire family’s outcome.

When Weinhouse saw those data, he and his colleagues founded a peer support program for ICU survivors. In a study published in 2019 in Critical Care Medicine, they identified six different models for peer support for those with PICS and their families, including both online and in-person approaches. An ongoing challenge for physicians, Weinhouse says, is getting patients to engage with these programs, given that their calendars are crowded with medical appointments and that they suffer from increased physical and mental disability.

Studies such as these led critical care physicians to form the ICU Liberation Collaborative to rethink critical care medicine. At Vanderbilt, Sevin and Jackson headed up one of the world’s first post-ICU clinics, which uses an interdisciplinary team to help patients maximize their functioning. They redesigned their critical care unit in a way that allows families to spend the night and that encourages patient mobility. Both Needham and Weinhouse continue tracking patient outcomes.

Even before the novel coronavirus struck, the United States — and the world — had begun to realize that graduating from the ICU was only the start of what was often an extensive recovery.
 

The long road back

When COVID-19 patients began flooding intensive care wards around the world, physicians scrambled to meet their complex and desperate acute medical needs. Over the past few months, physicians have focused on keeping these patients alive. “We’ve never seen anything like it ― not even during polio — with the sheer number of patients, all with respiratory distress,” Needham said.

But he and his colleagues know this is only the beginning.

“We’re aware that survivorship issues are coming. There’s going to be a wave of sick people who survived the coronavirus but are going to need more help,” Weinhouse said.

Intensivists have been drawing on PICS research in their fight to help COVID-19 patients. Work from the past few years has shown that although sedation is required during intubation itself, not everyone needs it while on a ventilator. Titrating down sedating medication helps reduce delirium, Wang says. Such medication has been shown to contribute to later cognitive problems. Needham’s studies showing that prolonged bedrest by ICU patients causes muscular atrophy has led him to encourage patients to move as much as possible. With the help of physical therapists, many patients on ventilators can be awake, alert, and moving around the ward.

One of the biggest challenges critical-care coronavirus patients face is prolonged isolation. The constant presence of a familiar face helps orient confused and delirious patients and provides emotional support during a frightening time. But because the immediate need for infection control outweighs these benefits, few hospitals allow visitors, especially for COVID-19 patients.

To address this, some units have been using video technology to allow loved ones to call in. At Johns Hopkins, physicians have also been relying on the expertise of occupational therapists (OTs). Needham says that one OT found that rubbing the hand and back of an agitated, delirious patient helped soothe and calm him better than many medications.

Ronan, who spent 5 days in intensive care, echoes that problem. She says she found the relative lack of human contact to be one of the most challenging parts of being in a bed on a COVID-19 ward. Separated from her husband and daughter, suffering from high fever and severe illness, she lost all track of time.

Her return home was difficult, too. Although her job as a home health nurse had prepared her on some level for the challenges she would face after discharge, Ronan says the hospital provided little practical help.

“Everything is so much harder at home, even little things like going to the bathroom,” she said. “I feel like I’m trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teacup.”

Khan and other physicians, aware of the challenges Ronan and others face once home, aim to create post-ICU clinics specifically for COVID-19 patients. They want to build what Khan calls a “one-stop shop” for all the support patients need to recover. Some of that can be provided via telehealth, which may also help ease the physical burden.

Because there’s so much physicians don’t know about the coronavirus, Johnson says, such clinics are not only a chance to help the sickest COVID-19 patients, they will also help researchers learn more about the virus and improve critical care for other illnesses.

Today, nearly 2 months after discharge, Ronan is back on the job but struggles with a persistent cough — likely due to the lung damage she sustained while ill. She has constant fatigue, as well as ongoing upset stomach from all the medications she took to reduce fever and body aches. When she dons a mask for work, the tangible reminder of her hospital stay sends her into a panic attack. Physically, she’s weaker than before.

Researchers are still trying to understand everything that Ronan and other COVID-19 patients need to move on with their lives after being in the ICU. Mysteries abound, but the ground laid by Sevin, Needham, Weinhouse, and others has provided a solid foundation on which to build.
 

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

By the time she was discharged from a suburban New Jersey hospital on April 10, Kathleen Ronan thought the worst was behind her. For a week before her husband rushed her to the emergency department (ED), incoherent and struggling to breathe, the novel coronavirus had ravaged her body. She tried to treat her fevers with acetaminophen and ice packs. Despite taking enough Tylenol to risk liver damage and packing herself on ice like the catch of the day, Ronan’s fever continued to rise. By the time her temperature reached 104.5° F, Ronan knew the time had come for more drastic measures.

A team of masked and gowned nurses greeted her at a triage tent outside the ED, and from there, everything becomes hazy for Ronan. She was immediately rushed to the hospital’s special COVID-19 intensive care unit (ICU), where she spent 5 days. But she has few distinct memories from this time. What she does remember is the exhaustion, the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. Her family couldn’t visit, and though Ronan works as a home health nurse, her brain was so addled with fever that she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. After a week in the hospital, 5 days of which were spent in the ICU, 51-year-old Ronan was discharged.

Her years of working as a home health nurse told her that the return home wouldn’t be easy, but nothing prepared her for just how much she would struggle. The once-active Ronan, who had supplemented long days on her feet caring for others as a nurse with regular trips to the gym, now needed a walker to traverse the few steps from her bed to the toilet, an effort that left her gasping for air. Her brain couldn’t even focus on an audiobook, let alone a short magazine article.

“It just completely knocked the stuffing out of me,” Ronan said.

Ronan’s lingering symptoms aren’t unique to COVID-19 patients. In as many as 80% of patients leaving the ICU, researchers have documented what they call post–intensive care syndrome (PICS) — a constellation of physical, cognitive, and psychiatric symptoms that result from an ICU stay. Although underlying illness plays a role in these symptoms, the amount of time spent in critical care is a major factor.

Nor is PICS simply a set of side effects that will go away on their own. It includes ongoing cognitive difficulties and physical weakness, both of which can lead to employment problems. Beyond that, depression and anxiety can exacerbate – and be exacerbated by – these challenges. Psychologist Jim Jackson, PsyD, assistant director of the ICU Recovery Center at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville, Tennessee, recently spoke with a former ICU patient who has struggled since her discharge 30 years ago.

“Her life essentially stopped with her critical care stay. She hasn’t been able to move forward,” he said. “She’s part of a whole fraternity of people who are struggling.”

The good news is that over the past decade, researchers have made important strides in understanding what makes PICS symptoms worse and how critical care physicians can tweak ICU protocols to reduce PICS severity. Practitioners will need to draw on this knowledge to help Ronan and the thousands of COVID-19 ICU patients like her.
 

Surviving the ICU

Although the new coronavirus has pushed the world’s critical care system to its limits, it was an outbreak in 1952 that inspired the creation of intensive care units. That summer, a wave of paralytic polio swept over Copenhagen, Denmark, and anesthesiologist Bjørn Ibsen, MD, PhD, used mechanical ventilation — physically operated by medical and dental students – to help 316 children breathe for weeks at a time while their small bodies worked to fight off the virus. The effort halved the mortality rate from polio that affected breathing, from 80% to 40%.

In these wards, dedicated to the very sickest, each patient was assigned his or her own nurse. Over the next decade, hospitals in the United Kingdom and the United States established their own ICUs to treat patients with a variety of conditions. Although it helped improve survival, mortality rates in critical care units remained stubbornly high, owing to the patients’ severe underlying illnesses.

“We thought we were doing a good job if the patient survived, but we had no idea what happened after discharge,” said Carla Sevin, MD, medical director of Vanderbilt’s ICU Recovery Center. Nor did their efforts to find out always bring answers. “We struggled to get people to come in for support — they were debilitated, physically burdened, and weak.”

Through further advances in life support, by the early 2000s, the average mortality rates in American ICUs had dropped to 8% to 19%. As the number of critical care survivors began to climb, clinical researchers noticed that the lives of these patients and their families were profoundly altered by their severe illness.

As Dale Needham, MD, PhD, began his pulmonology and critical care residency in Toronto, Canada, in 2005, a group of physicians there began a 5-year longitudinal study to assess long-term outcomes of patients who developed acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Although ARDS is an acute condition, the investigators found that patients felt effects for years. Younger patients recovered better than older ones, but none of the patients› physical functioning was equivalent to that of age-matched control persons. Even 5 years later, former ICU patients only reached 76% of expected physical functioning, according to results published in the New England Journal of Medicine. The study was a wake-up call.

At a meeting in Chicago in 2010, Needham, now an intensivist at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, gathered an interdisciplinary group of colleagues, including patients and caregivers, to clarify the phenomena they were seeing. What emerged from that meeting, published in 2012 in Critical Care Medicine, were the diagnostic criteria for PICS: According to the new definition, PICS is characterized by new or worsening physical and neuropsychiatric deficits that range from forgetfulness and loss of motivation to physical weakness and insomnia.

The issue, Needham says, is that although the trouble starts in the ICU, it only becomes clear once patients leave. “ICU doctors aren’t the ones dealing with this,” Needham said. “We need to build stronger bridges between critical care and other professions.” That’s where PICS comes in, a definition that exists explicitly to alert healthcare providers about the constellation of challenges many of these individuals face as they try to reenter “normal” life.
 

Defining the problem

As an ICU nurse at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, Annie Johnson, ACNP-BC, knew lots about helping hospitalized patients, but she says she didn’t know anything about what to do after discharge – at least not until her own mother became a patient.

On the first day of retirement in October 2014, Johnson’s mother flatlined. Quick-thinking paramedics resuscitated her, and after several days in critical care, she was discharged. Since then, her heart has remained healthy. Johnson’s sister, who spent time worrying over her mother at the hospital, also had lingering effects. Both have since struggled, plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia.

Johnson initially believed her mom’s and sister’s neuropsychiatric, post-ICU struggles were unique to her family. It was only a year later, at a seminar she was attending, that she first heard the words “post–intensive care syndrome.” Suddenly, Johnson had a name for her family’s experiences, and she began to create support groups and resources to help other families like hers.

“I thought of all the patients I had treated over the years who had been on ventilators for days and days and days. And if this happened to my mom after 48 hours, what must they be going through?” she asked.

Once physicians formally defined PICS, the Society for Critical Care Medicine helped create programs to educate ICU staff, patients, and families about potential post-discharge challenges. Researchers also began to investigate factors affecting post-ICU functioning. Follow-up studies of patients with delirium (ranging from general confusion about time and place to extreme agitation and violence) showed they had striking cognitive deficits. Problems with short-term memory, flexible thinking, and motivation plagued patients for years after their critical illness, similar to the physical deficiencies seen after ARDS. Delirium was one of the strongest risk factors for neuropsychiatric problems.

“Delirium is basically a stress test for the brain,” said Babar Khan, MD, a critical care specialist at Indiana University’s Regenstrief Institute, in Bloomington. But whether delirium accentuates preexisting cognitive difficulties or creates them afresh isn’t yet clear.

Sophia Wang, MD, a geriatric psychiatrist at Indiana University who works with many critical care patients, says patients who had experienced delirium in the ICU showed significant defects in memory and executive functioning long after their hospital stay. She points to a 2015 study that followed 47 ICU patients for a year post discharge. Among those who experienced delirium, brain volumes, as measured by MRI, were smaller at 3 months, something associated with cognitive problems at 1 year. Many struggled at work, and unemployment was common. Depression and posttraumatic stress compounded these difficulties. Among those with acute respiratory distress, ICU patients who are young, female, and unemployed are most likely to suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder after they are discharge.

Critical care medicine may have given these patients a second chance at life, Wang says, but the life they return to often looks nothing like the one they had before their illness.

Prolonged mechanical ventilation and the heavy sedation that often accompanies it are predictors of PICS severity. Some of these links could be explained by the gravity of the illness that landed someone in critical care, but others are more likely to be iatrogenic, says Gerald Weinhouse, MD, a pulmonology and critical care physician and co-director of the Critical Illness Recovery Program at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. The involvement of loved ones at the patient’s bedside, however, improved the entire family’s outcome.

When Weinhouse saw those data, he and his colleagues founded a peer support program for ICU survivors. In a study published in 2019 in Critical Care Medicine, they identified six different models for peer support for those with PICS and their families, including both online and in-person approaches. An ongoing challenge for physicians, Weinhouse says, is getting patients to engage with these programs, given that their calendars are crowded with medical appointments and that they suffer from increased physical and mental disability.

Studies such as these led critical care physicians to form the ICU Liberation Collaborative to rethink critical care medicine. At Vanderbilt, Sevin and Jackson headed up one of the world’s first post-ICU clinics, which uses an interdisciplinary team to help patients maximize their functioning. They redesigned their critical care unit in a way that allows families to spend the night and that encourages patient mobility. Both Needham and Weinhouse continue tracking patient outcomes.

Even before the novel coronavirus struck, the United States — and the world — had begun to realize that graduating from the ICU was only the start of what was often an extensive recovery.
 

The long road back

When COVID-19 patients began flooding intensive care wards around the world, physicians scrambled to meet their complex and desperate acute medical needs. Over the past few months, physicians have focused on keeping these patients alive. “We’ve never seen anything like it ― not even during polio — with the sheer number of patients, all with respiratory distress,” Needham said.

But he and his colleagues know this is only the beginning.

“We’re aware that survivorship issues are coming. There’s going to be a wave of sick people who survived the coronavirus but are going to need more help,” Weinhouse said.

Intensivists have been drawing on PICS research in their fight to help COVID-19 patients. Work from the past few years has shown that although sedation is required during intubation itself, not everyone needs it while on a ventilator. Titrating down sedating medication helps reduce delirium, Wang says. Such medication has been shown to contribute to later cognitive problems. Needham’s studies showing that prolonged bedrest by ICU patients causes muscular atrophy has led him to encourage patients to move as much as possible. With the help of physical therapists, many patients on ventilators can be awake, alert, and moving around the ward.

One of the biggest challenges critical-care coronavirus patients face is prolonged isolation. The constant presence of a familiar face helps orient confused and delirious patients and provides emotional support during a frightening time. But because the immediate need for infection control outweighs these benefits, few hospitals allow visitors, especially for COVID-19 patients.

To address this, some units have been using video technology to allow loved ones to call in. At Johns Hopkins, physicians have also been relying on the expertise of occupational therapists (OTs). Needham says that one OT found that rubbing the hand and back of an agitated, delirious patient helped soothe and calm him better than many medications.

Ronan, who spent 5 days in intensive care, echoes that problem. She says she found the relative lack of human contact to be one of the most challenging parts of being in a bed on a COVID-19 ward. Separated from her husband and daughter, suffering from high fever and severe illness, she lost all track of time.

Her return home was difficult, too. Although her job as a home health nurse had prepared her on some level for the challenges she would face after discharge, Ronan says the hospital provided little practical help.

“Everything is so much harder at home, even little things like going to the bathroom,” she said. “I feel like I’m trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teacup.”

Khan and other physicians, aware of the challenges Ronan and others face once home, aim to create post-ICU clinics specifically for COVID-19 patients. They want to build what Khan calls a “one-stop shop” for all the support patients need to recover. Some of that can be provided via telehealth, which may also help ease the physical burden.

Because there’s so much physicians don’t know about the coronavirus, Johnson says, such clinics are not only a chance to help the sickest COVID-19 patients, they will also help researchers learn more about the virus and improve critical care for other illnesses.

Today, nearly 2 months after discharge, Ronan is back on the job but struggles with a persistent cough — likely due to the lung damage she sustained while ill. She has constant fatigue, as well as ongoing upset stomach from all the medications she took to reduce fever and body aches. When she dons a mask for work, the tangible reminder of her hospital stay sends her into a panic attack. Physically, she’s weaker than before.

Researchers are still trying to understand everything that Ronan and other COVID-19 patients need to move on with their lives after being in the ICU. Mysteries abound, but the ground laid by Sevin, Needham, Weinhouse, and others has provided a solid foundation on which to build.
 

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

By the time she was discharged from a suburban New Jersey hospital on April 10, Kathleen Ronan thought the worst was behind her. For a week before her husband rushed her to the emergency department (ED), incoherent and struggling to breathe, the novel coronavirus had ravaged her body. She tried to treat her fevers with acetaminophen and ice packs. Despite taking enough Tylenol to risk liver damage and packing herself on ice like the catch of the day, Ronan’s fever continued to rise. By the time her temperature reached 104.5° F, Ronan knew the time had come for more drastic measures.

A team of masked and gowned nurses greeted her at a triage tent outside the ED, and from there, everything becomes hazy for Ronan. She was immediately rushed to the hospital’s special COVID-19 intensive care unit (ICU), where she spent 5 days. But she has few distinct memories from this time. What she does remember is the exhaustion, the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. Her family couldn’t visit, and though Ronan works as a home health nurse, her brain was so addled with fever that she couldn’t make sense of what was happening. After a week in the hospital, 5 days of which were spent in the ICU, 51-year-old Ronan was discharged.

Her years of working as a home health nurse told her that the return home wouldn’t be easy, but nothing prepared her for just how much she would struggle. The once-active Ronan, who had supplemented long days on her feet caring for others as a nurse with regular trips to the gym, now needed a walker to traverse the few steps from her bed to the toilet, an effort that left her gasping for air. Her brain couldn’t even focus on an audiobook, let alone a short magazine article.

“It just completely knocked the stuffing out of me,” Ronan said.

Ronan’s lingering symptoms aren’t unique to COVID-19 patients. In as many as 80% of patients leaving the ICU, researchers have documented what they call post–intensive care syndrome (PICS) — a constellation of physical, cognitive, and psychiatric symptoms that result from an ICU stay. Although underlying illness plays a role in these symptoms, the amount of time spent in critical care is a major factor.

Nor is PICS simply a set of side effects that will go away on their own. It includes ongoing cognitive difficulties and physical weakness, both of which can lead to employment problems. Beyond that, depression and anxiety can exacerbate – and be exacerbated by – these challenges. Psychologist Jim Jackson, PsyD, assistant director of the ICU Recovery Center at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville, Tennessee, recently spoke with a former ICU patient who has struggled since her discharge 30 years ago.

“Her life essentially stopped with her critical care stay. She hasn’t been able to move forward,” he said. “She’s part of a whole fraternity of people who are struggling.”

The good news is that over the past decade, researchers have made important strides in understanding what makes PICS symptoms worse and how critical care physicians can tweak ICU protocols to reduce PICS severity. Practitioners will need to draw on this knowledge to help Ronan and the thousands of COVID-19 ICU patients like her.
 

Surviving the ICU

Although the new coronavirus has pushed the world’s critical care system to its limits, it was an outbreak in 1952 that inspired the creation of intensive care units. That summer, a wave of paralytic polio swept over Copenhagen, Denmark, and anesthesiologist Bjørn Ibsen, MD, PhD, used mechanical ventilation — physically operated by medical and dental students – to help 316 children breathe for weeks at a time while their small bodies worked to fight off the virus. The effort halved the mortality rate from polio that affected breathing, from 80% to 40%.

In these wards, dedicated to the very sickest, each patient was assigned his or her own nurse. Over the next decade, hospitals in the United Kingdom and the United States established their own ICUs to treat patients with a variety of conditions. Although it helped improve survival, mortality rates in critical care units remained stubbornly high, owing to the patients’ severe underlying illnesses.

“We thought we were doing a good job if the patient survived, but we had no idea what happened after discharge,” said Carla Sevin, MD, medical director of Vanderbilt’s ICU Recovery Center. Nor did their efforts to find out always bring answers. “We struggled to get people to come in for support — they were debilitated, physically burdened, and weak.”

Through further advances in life support, by the early 2000s, the average mortality rates in American ICUs had dropped to 8% to 19%. As the number of critical care survivors began to climb, clinical researchers noticed that the lives of these patients and their families were profoundly altered by their severe illness.

As Dale Needham, MD, PhD, began his pulmonology and critical care residency in Toronto, Canada, in 2005, a group of physicians there began a 5-year longitudinal study to assess long-term outcomes of patients who developed acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Although ARDS is an acute condition, the investigators found that patients felt effects for years. Younger patients recovered better than older ones, but none of the patients› physical functioning was equivalent to that of age-matched control persons. Even 5 years later, former ICU patients only reached 76% of expected physical functioning, according to results published in the New England Journal of Medicine. The study was a wake-up call.

At a meeting in Chicago in 2010, Needham, now an intensivist at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, gathered an interdisciplinary group of colleagues, including patients and caregivers, to clarify the phenomena they were seeing. What emerged from that meeting, published in 2012 in Critical Care Medicine, were the diagnostic criteria for PICS: According to the new definition, PICS is characterized by new or worsening physical and neuropsychiatric deficits that range from forgetfulness and loss of motivation to physical weakness and insomnia.

The issue, Needham says, is that although the trouble starts in the ICU, it only becomes clear once patients leave. “ICU doctors aren’t the ones dealing with this,” Needham said. “We need to build stronger bridges between critical care and other professions.” That’s where PICS comes in, a definition that exists explicitly to alert healthcare providers about the constellation of challenges many of these individuals face as they try to reenter “normal” life.
 

Defining the problem

As an ICU nurse at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, Annie Johnson, ACNP-BC, knew lots about helping hospitalized patients, but she says she didn’t know anything about what to do after discharge – at least not until her own mother became a patient.

On the first day of retirement in October 2014, Johnson’s mother flatlined. Quick-thinking paramedics resuscitated her, and after several days in critical care, she was discharged. Since then, her heart has remained healthy. Johnson’s sister, who spent time worrying over her mother at the hospital, also had lingering effects. Both have since struggled, plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia.

Johnson initially believed her mom’s and sister’s neuropsychiatric, post-ICU struggles were unique to her family. It was only a year later, at a seminar she was attending, that she first heard the words “post–intensive care syndrome.” Suddenly, Johnson had a name for her family’s experiences, and she began to create support groups and resources to help other families like hers.

“I thought of all the patients I had treated over the years who had been on ventilators for days and days and days. And if this happened to my mom after 48 hours, what must they be going through?” she asked.

Once physicians formally defined PICS, the Society for Critical Care Medicine helped create programs to educate ICU staff, patients, and families about potential post-discharge challenges. Researchers also began to investigate factors affecting post-ICU functioning. Follow-up studies of patients with delirium (ranging from general confusion about time and place to extreme agitation and violence) showed they had striking cognitive deficits. Problems with short-term memory, flexible thinking, and motivation plagued patients for years after their critical illness, similar to the physical deficiencies seen after ARDS. Delirium was one of the strongest risk factors for neuropsychiatric problems.

“Delirium is basically a stress test for the brain,” said Babar Khan, MD, a critical care specialist at Indiana University’s Regenstrief Institute, in Bloomington. But whether delirium accentuates preexisting cognitive difficulties or creates them afresh isn’t yet clear.

Sophia Wang, MD, a geriatric psychiatrist at Indiana University who works with many critical care patients, says patients who had experienced delirium in the ICU showed significant defects in memory and executive functioning long after their hospital stay. She points to a 2015 study that followed 47 ICU patients for a year post discharge. Among those who experienced delirium, brain volumes, as measured by MRI, were smaller at 3 months, something associated with cognitive problems at 1 year. Many struggled at work, and unemployment was common. Depression and posttraumatic stress compounded these difficulties. Among those with acute respiratory distress, ICU patients who are young, female, and unemployed are most likely to suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder after they are discharge.

Critical care medicine may have given these patients a second chance at life, Wang says, but the life they return to often looks nothing like the one they had before their illness.

Prolonged mechanical ventilation and the heavy sedation that often accompanies it are predictors of PICS severity. Some of these links could be explained by the gravity of the illness that landed someone in critical care, but others are more likely to be iatrogenic, says Gerald Weinhouse, MD, a pulmonology and critical care physician and co-director of the Critical Illness Recovery Program at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. The involvement of loved ones at the patient’s bedside, however, improved the entire family’s outcome.

When Weinhouse saw those data, he and his colleagues founded a peer support program for ICU survivors. In a study published in 2019 in Critical Care Medicine, they identified six different models for peer support for those with PICS and their families, including both online and in-person approaches. An ongoing challenge for physicians, Weinhouse says, is getting patients to engage with these programs, given that their calendars are crowded with medical appointments and that they suffer from increased physical and mental disability.

Studies such as these led critical care physicians to form the ICU Liberation Collaborative to rethink critical care medicine. At Vanderbilt, Sevin and Jackson headed up one of the world’s first post-ICU clinics, which uses an interdisciplinary team to help patients maximize their functioning. They redesigned their critical care unit in a way that allows families to spend the night and that encourages patient mobility. Both Needham and Weinhouse continue tracking patient outcomes.

Even before the novel coronavirus struck, the United States — and the world — had begun to realize that graduating from the ICU was only the start of what was often an extensive recovery.
 

The long road back

When COVID-19 patients began flooding intensive care wards around the world, physicians scrambled to meet their complex and desperate acute medical needs. Over the past few months, physicians have focused on keeping these patients alive. “We’ve never seen anything like it ― not even during polio — with the sheer number of patients, all with respiratory distress,” Needham said.

But he and his colleagues know this is only the beginning.

“We’re aware that survivorship issues are coming. There’s going to be a wave of sick people who survived the coronavirus but are going to need more help,” Weinhouse said.

Intensivists have been drawing on PICS research in their fight to help COVID-19 patients. Work from the past few years has shown that although sedation is required during intubation itself, not everyone needs it while on a ventilator. Titrating down sedating medication helps reduce delirium, Wang says. Such medication has been shown to contribute to later cognitive problems. Needham’s studies showing that prolonged bedrest by ICU patients causes muscular atrophy has led him to encourage patients to move as much as possible. With the help of physical therapists, many patients on ventilators can be awake, alert, and moving around the ward.

One of the biggest challenges critical-care coronavirus patients face is prolonged isolation. The constant presence of a familiar face helps orient confused and delirious patients and provides emotional support during a frightening time. But because the immediate need for infection control outweighs these benefits, few hospitals allow visitors, especially for COVID-19 patients.

To address this, some units have been using video technology to allow loved ones to call in. At Johns Hopkins, physicians have also been relying on the expertise of occupational therapists (OTs). Needham says that one OT found that rubbing the hand and back of an agitated, delirious patient helped soothe and calm him better than many medications.

Ronan, who spent 5 days in intensive care, echoes that problem. She says she found the relative lack of human contact to be one of the most challenging parts of being in a bed on a COVID-19 ward. Separated from her husband and daughter, suffering from high fever and severe illness, she lost all track of time.

Her return home was difficult, too. Although her job as a home health nurse had prepared her on some level for the challenges she would face after discharge, Ronan says the hospital provided little practical help.

“Everything is so much harder at home, even little things like going to the bathroom,” she said. “I feel like I’m trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teacup.”

Khan and other physicians, aware of the challenges Ronan and others face once home, aim to create post-ICU clinics specifically for COVID-19 patients. They want to build what Khan calls a “one-stop shop” for all the support patients need to recover. Some of that can be provided via telehealth, which may also help ease the physical burden.

Because there’s so much physicians don’t know about the coronavirus, Johnson says, such clinics are not only a chance to help the sickest COVID-19 patients, they will also help researchers learn more about the virus and improve critical care for other illnesses.

Today, nearly 2 months after discharge, Ronan is back on the job but struggles with a persistent cough — likely due to the lung damage she sustained while ill. She has constant fatigue, as well as ongoing upset stomach from all the medications she took to reduce fever and body aches. When she dons a mask for work, the tangible reminder of her hospital stay sends her into a panic attack. Physically, she’s weaker than before.

Researchers are still trying to understand everything that Ronan and other COVID-19 patients need to move on with their lives after being in the ICU. Mysteries abound, but the ground laid by Sevin, Needham, Weinhouse, and others has provided a solid foundation on which to build.
 

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

The challenges posed by COVID-19 have crippled health care systems around the globe. By February 2020, the first outbreak in the United States had been set off in Washington State. We quickly became the world’s epicenter of the epidemic, with over 1.8 million patients and over 110,000 deaths.¹ The rapidity of spread and the severity of the disease created a tremendous strain on resources. It blindsided policymakers and hospital administrators, which left little time to react to the challenges placed on hospital operations all over the country.

The necessity of a new care model

Although health systems in the United States are adept in managing complications of common seasonal viral respiratory illnesses, COVID-19 presented an entirely different challenge with its significantly higher mortality rate. A respiratory disease turning into a multiorgan disease that causes debilitating cardiac, renal, neurological, hematological, and psychosocial complications² was not something we had experience managing effectively. Additional challenges included a massive surge of COVID-19 patients, a limited supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), an inadequate number of intensivists for managing the anticipated ventilated patients, and most importantly, the potential of losing some of our workforce if they became infected.

Based on the experiences in China and Italy, and various predictive models, the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health quickly realized the necessity of a new model of care for COVID-19 patients. We came up with an elaborate plan to manage the disease burden and the strain on resources effectively. The measures we put in place could be broadly divided into three categories following the timeline of the disease: the preparatory phase, the execution phase, and the maintenance phase.
 

The preparatory phase: From “Hospitalists” to “COVIDists”

As in most hospitals around the country, hospitalists are the backbone of inpatient clinical operations at our health system. A focused group of 10 hospitalists who volunteered to take care of COVID-19 patients with a particular interest in the pandemic and experience in critical care were selected, and the term “COVIDists” was coined to refer to them.

COVIDists were trained in various treatment protocols and ongoing clinical trials. They were given refresher training in Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS) and Fundamental Critical Care Support (FCCS) courses and were taught in critical care/ventilator management by the intensivists through rapid indoctrination in the ICU. All of them had their N-95 mask fitting updated and were trained in the safe donning and doffing of all kinds of PPE by PPE coaches. The palliative care team trained them in conducting end-of-life/code status discussions with a focus on being unable to speak with family members at the bedside. COVIDists were also assigned as Code Blue leaders for any “COVID code blue” in the hospital.

In addition to the rapid training course, COVID-related updates were disseminated daily using three different modalities: brief huddles at the start of the day with the COVIDists; a COVID-19 newsletter summarizing daily updates, new treatments, strategies, and policies; and a WhatsApp group for instantly broadcasting information to the COVIDists (Table 1).

The execution phase

All the hospitalized COVID-19 patients were grouped together to COVID units, and the COVIDists were deployed to those units geographically. COVIDists were given lighter than usual patient loads to deal with the extra time needed for donning and doffing of PPE and for coordination with specialists. COVIDists were almost the only clinicians physically visiting the patients in most cases, and they became the “eyes and ears” of specialists since the specialists were advised to minimize exposure and pursue telemedicine consults. The COVIDists were also undertaking the most challenging part of the care – talking to families about end-of-life issues and the futility of aggressive care in certain patients with preexisting conditions.

Some COVIDists were deployed to the ICU to work alongside the intensivists and became an invaluable resource in ICU management when the ICU census skyrocketed during the initial phase of the outbreak. This helped in tiding the health system over during the initial crisis. Within a short time, we shifted away from an early intubation strategy, and most of the ICU patients were managed in the intermediate care units on high flow oxygen along with the awake-proning protocol. The COVIDists exclusively managed these units. They led multidisciplinary rounds two times a day with the ICU, rapid response team (RRT), the palliative care team, and the nursing team. This step drastically decreased the number of intubations, RRT activations, reduced ICU census,³ and helped with hospital capacity and patient flow (Tables 2 and 3).

The maintenance phase

It is already 2 months since the first devising COVIDists. There is no difference in sick callouts between COVIDists and non-COVIDists. One COVIDist and one non-COVIDist contracted the disease, but none of them required hospitalization. Although we initially thought that COVIDists would be needed for only a short period of time, the evolution of the disease is showing signs that it might be prolonged over the next several months. Hence, we are planning to continue COVIDist service for at least the next 6 months and reevaluate the need.

Hospital medicine leadership checked on COVIDists daily in regard to their physical health and, more importantly, their mental well-being. They were offered the chance to be taken off the schedule if they felt burned out, but no one wanted to come off their scheduled service before finishing their shifts. BlueCross MA recognized one of the COVIDists, Raghuveer Rakasi, MD, as a “hero on the front line.”⁴ In Dr. Rakasi’s words, “We took a nosedive into something without knowing its depth, and aware that we could have fatalities among ourselves. We took up new roles, faced new challenges, learned new things every day, evolving every step of the way. We had to change the way we practice medicine, finding new ways to treat patients, and protecting the workforce by limiting patient exposure, prioritizing investigations.” He added that “we have to adapt to a new normal; we should be prepared for this to come in waves. Putting aside our political views, we should stand united 6 feet apart, with a mask covering our brave faces, frequently washing our helping hands to overcome these uncertain times.”
 

Conclusion

The creation of a focused group of hospitalists called COVIDists and providing them with structured and rapid training (in various aspects of clinical care of COVID-19 patients, critical care/ventilator management, efficient and safe use of PPE) and daily information dissemination allowed our health system to prepare for the large volume of COVID-19 patients. It also helped in preserving the larger hospital workforce for a possible future surge.

The rapid development and implementation of the COVIDist strategy succeeded because of the intrinsic motivation of the providers to improve the outcomes of this high-risk patient population and the close collaboration of the stakeholders. Our institution remains successful in managing the pandemic in Western Massachusetts, with reserve capacity remaining even during the peak of the epidemic. A large part of this was because of creating and training a pool of COVIDists.
 

Dr. Medarametla is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health, and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts, Worcester. Readers can contact him at [email protected]. Dr. Prabhakaran is unit medical director, geriatrics unit, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Bryson is associate program director of the Internal Medicine Residency at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Umar is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health. Dr. Natanasabapathy is division chief of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19). Updated Jun 10, 2020. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/cases-in-us.html.

2. Zhou F et al. Clinical course and risk factors for mortality of adult inpatients with COVID-19 in Wuhan, China: A retrospective cohort study. Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395(10229):1054-62.

3. Westafer LM et al. A transdisciplinary COVID-19 early respiratory intervention protocol: An implementation story. J Hosp Med. 2020 May 21;15(6):372-374.

4. Miller J. “Heroes on the front line: Dr. Raghuveer Rakasi.” Coverage. May 18, 2020. https://coverage.bluecrossma.com/article/heroes-front-line-dr-raghuveer-rakasi

The challenges posed by COVID-19 have crippled health care systems around the globe. By February 2020, the first outbreak in the United States had been set off in Washington State. We quickly became the world’s epicenter of the epidemic, with over 1.8 million patients and over 110,000 deaths.¹ The rapidity of spread and the severity of the disease created a tremendous strain on resources. It blindsided policymakers and hospital administrators, which left little time to react to the challenges placed on hospital operations all over the country.

The necessity of a new care model

Although health systems in the United States are adept in managing complications of common seasonal viral respiratory illnesses, COVID-19 presented an entirely different challenge with its significantly higher mortality rate. A respiratory disease turning into a multiorgan disease that causes debilitating cardiac, renal, neurological, hematological, and psychosocial complications² was not something we had experience managing effectively. Additional challenges included a massive surge of COVID-19 patients, a limited supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), an inadequate number of intensivists for managing the anticipated ventilated patients, and most importantly, the potential of losing some of our workforce if they became infected.

Based on the experiences in China and Italy, and various predictive models, the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health quickly realized the necessity of a new model of care for COVID-19 patients. We came up with an elaborate plan to manage the disease burden and the strain on resources effectively. The measures we put in place could be broadly divided into three categories following the timeline of the disease: the preparatory phase, the execution phase, and the maintenance phase.
 

The preparatory phase: From “Hospitalists” to “COVIDists”

As in most hospitals around the country, hospitalists are the backbone of inpatient clinical operations at our health system. A focused group of 10 hospitalists who volunteered to take care of COVID-19 patients with a particular interest in the pandemic and experience in critical care were selected, and the term “COVIDists” was coined to refer to them.

COVIDists were trained in various treatment protocols and ongoing clinical trials. They were given refresher training in Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS) and Fundamental Critical Care Support (FCCS) courses and were taught in critical care/ventilator management by the intensivists through rapid indoctrination in the ICU. All of them had their N-95 mask fitting updated and were trained in the safe donning and doffing of all kinds of PPE by PPE coaches. The palliative care team trained them in conducting end-of-life/code status discussions with a focus on being unable to speak with family members at the bedside. COVIDists were also assigned as Code Blue leaders for any “COVID code blue” in the hospital.

In addition to the rapid training course, COVID-related updates were disseminated daily using three different modalities: brief huddles at the start of the day with the COVIDists; a COVID-19 newsletter summarizing daily updates, new treatments, strategies, and policies; and a WhatsApp group for instantly broadcasting information to the COVIDists (Table 1).

The execution phase

All the hospitalized COVID-19 patients were grouped together to COVID units, and the COVIDists were deployed to those units geographically. COVIDists were given lighter than usual patient loads to deal with the extra time needed for donning and doffing of PPE and for coordination with specialists. COVIDists were almost the only clinicians physically visiting the patients in most cases, and they became the “eyes and ears” of specialists since the specialists were advised to minimize exposure and pursue telemedicine consults. The COVIDists were also undertaking the most challenging part of the care – talking to families about end-of-life issues and the futility of aggressive care in certain patients with preexisting conditions.

Some COVIDists were deployed to the ICU to work alongside the intensivists and became an invaluable resource in ICU management when the ICU census skyrocketed during the initial phase of the outbreak. This helped in tiding the health system over during the initial crisis. Within a short time, we shifted away from an early intubation strategy, and most of the ICU patients were managed in the intermediate care units on high flow oxygen along with the awake-proning protocol. The COVIDists exclusively managed these units. They led multidisciplinary rounds two times a day with the ICU, rapid response team (RRT), the palliative care team, and the nursing team. This step drastically decreased the number of intubations, RRT activations, reduced ICU census,³ and helped with hospital capacity and patient flow (Tables 2 and 3).

The maintenance phase

It is already 2 months since the first devising COVIDists. There is no difference in sick callouts between COVIDists and non-COVIDists. One COVIDist and one non-COVIDist contracted the disease, but none of them required hospitalization. Although we initially thought that COVIDists would be needed for only a short period of time, the evolution of the disease is showing signs that it might be prolonged over the next several months. Hence, we are planning to continue COVIDist service for at least the next 6 months and reevaluate the need.

Hospital medicine leadership checked on COVIDists daily in regard to their physical health and, more importantly, their mental well-being. They were offered the chance to be taken off the schedule if they felt burned out, but no one wanted to come off their scheduled service before finishing their shifts. BlueCross MA recognized one of the COVIDists, Raghuveer Rakasi, MD, as a “hero on the front line.”⁴ In Dr. Rakasi’s words, “We took a nosedive into something without knowing its depth, and aware that we could have fatalities among ourselves. We took up new roles, faced new challenges, learned new things every day, evolving every step of the way. We had to change the way we practice medicine, finding new ways to treat patients, and protecting the workforce by limiting patient exposure, prioritizing investigations.” He added that “we have to adapt to a new normal; we should be prepared for this to come in waves. Putting aside our political views, we should stand united 6 feet apart, with a mask covering our brave faces, frequently washing our helping hands to overcome these uncertain times.”
 

Conclusion

The creation of a focused group of hospitalists called COVIDists and providing them with structured and rapid training (in various aspects of clinical care of COVID-19 patients, critical care/ventilator management, efficient and safe use of PPE) and daily information dissemination allowed our health system to prepare for the large volume of COVID-19 patients. It also helped in preserving the larger hospital workforce for a possible future surge.

The rapid development and implementation of the COVIDist strategy succeeded because of the intrinsic motivation of the providers to improve the outcomes of this high-risk patient population and the close collaboration of the stakeholders. Our institution remains successful in managing the pandemic in Western Massachusetts, with reserve capacity remaining even during the peak of the epidemic. A large part of this was because of creating and training a pool of COVIDists.
 

Dr. Medarametla is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health, and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts, Worcester. Readers can contact him at [email protected]. Dr. Prabhakaran is unit medical director, geriatrics unit, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Bryson is associate program director of the Internal Medicine Residency at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Umar is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health. Dr. Natanasabapathy is division chief of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19). Updated Jun 10, 2020. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/cases-in-us.html.

2. Zhou F et al. Clinical course and risk factors for mortality of adult inpatients with COVID-19 in Wuhan, China: A retrospective cohort study. Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395(10229):1054-62.

3. Westafer LM et al. A transdisciplinary COVID-19 early respiratory intervention protocol: An implementation story. J Hosp Med. 2020 May 21;15(6):372-374.

4. Miller J. “Heroes on the front line: Dr. Raghuveer Rakasi.” Coverage. May 18, 2020. https://coverage.bluecrossma.com/article/heroes-front-line-dr-raghuveer-rakasi

The challenges posed by COVID-19 have crippled health care systems around the globe. By February 2020, the first outbreak in the United States had been set off in Washington State. We quickly became the world’s epicenter of the epidemic, with over 1.8 million patients and over 110,000 deaths.¹ The rapidity of spread and the severity of the disease created a tremendous strain on resources. It blindsided policymakers and hospital administrators, which left little time to react to the challenges placed on hospital operations all over the country.

The necessity of a new care model

Although health systems in the United States are adept in managing complications of common seasonal viral respiratory illnesses, COVID-19 presented an entirely different challenge with its significantly higher mortality rate. A respiratory disease turning into a multiorgan disease that causes debilitating cardiac, renal, neurological, hematological, and psychosocial complications² was not something we had experience managing effectively. Additional challenges included a massive surge of COVID-19 patients, a limited supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), an inadequate number of intensivists for managing the anticipated ventilated patients, and most importantly, the potential of losing some of our workforce if they became infected.

Based on the experiences in China and Italy, and various predictive models, the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health quickly realized the necessity of a new model of care for COVID-19 patients. We came up with an elaborate plan to manage the disease burden and the strain on resources effectively. The measures we put in place could be broadly divided into three categories following the timeline of the disease: the preparatory phase, the execution phase, and the maintenance phase.
 

The preparatory phase: From “Hospitalists” to “COVIDists”

As in most hospitals around the country, hospitalists are the backbone of inpatient clinical operations at our health system. A focused group of 10 hospitalists who volunteered to take care of COVID-19 patients with a particular interest in the pandemic and experience in critical care were selected, and the term “COVIDists” was coined to refer to them.

COVIDists were trained in various treatment protocols and ongoing clinical trials. They were given refresher training in Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS) and Fundamental Critical Care Support (FCCS) courses and were taught in critical care/ventilator management by the intensivists through rapid indoctrination in the ICU. All of them had their N-95 mask fitting updated and were trained in the safe donning and doffing of all kinds of PPE by PPE coaches. The palliative care team trained them in conducting end-of-life/code status discussions with a focus on being unable to speak with family members at the bedside. COVIDists were also assigned as Code Blue leaders for any “COVID code blue” in the hospital.

In addition to the rapid training course, COVID-related updates were disseminated daily using three different modalities: brief huddles at the start of the day with the COVIDists; a COVID-19 newsletter summarizing daily updates, new treatments, strategies, and policies; and a WhatsApp group for instantly broadcasting information to the COVIDists (Table 1).

The execution phase

All the hospitalized COVID-19 patients were grouped together to COVID units, and the COVIDists were deployed to those units geographically. COVIDists were given lighter than usual patient loads to deal with the extra time needed for donning and doffing of PPE and for coordination with specialists. COVIDists were almost the only clinicians physically visiting the patients in most cases, and they became the “eyes and ears” of specialists since the specialists were advised to minimize exposure and pursue telemedicine consults. The COVIDists were also undertaking the most challenging part of the care – talking to families about end-of-life issues and the futility of aggressive care in certain patients with preexisting conditions.

Some COVIDists were deployed to the ICU to work alongside the intensivists and became an invaluable resource in ICU management when the ICU census skyrocketed during the initial phase of the outbreak. This helped in tiding the health system over during the initial crisis. Within a short time, we shifted away from an early intubation strategy, and most of the ICU patients were managed in the intermediate care units on high flow oxygen along with the awake-proning protocol. The COVIDists exclusively managed these units. They led multidisciplinary rounds two times a day with the ICU, rapid response team (RRT), the palliative care team, and the nursing team. This step drastically decreased the number of intubations, RRT activations, reduced ICU census,³ and helped with hospital capacity and patient flow (Tables 2 and 3).

The maintenance phase

It is already 2 months since the first devising COVIDists. There is no difference in sick callouts between COVIDists and non-COVIDists. One COVIDist and one non-COVIDist contracted the disease, but none of them required hospitalization. Although we initially thought that COVIDists would be needed for only a short period of time, the evolution of the disease is showing signs that it might be prolonged over the next several months. Hence, we are planning to continue COVIDist service for at least the next 6 months and reevaluate the need.

Hospital medicine leadership checked on COVIDists daily in regard to their physical health and, more importantly, their mental well-being. They were offered the chance to be taken off the schedule if they felt burned out, but no one wanted to come off their scheduled service before finishing their shifts. BlueCross MA recognized one of the COVIDists, Raghuveer Rakasi, MD, as a “hero on the front line.”⁴ In Dr. Rakasi’s words, “We took a nosedive into something without knowing its depth, and aware that we could have fatalities among ourselves. We took up new roles, faced new challenges, learned new things every day, evolving every step of the way. We had to change the way we practice medicine, finding new ways to treat patients, and protecting the workforce by limiting patient exposure, prioritizing investigations.” He added that “we have to adapt to a new normal; we should be prepared for this to come in waves. Putting aside our political views, we should stand united 6 feet apart, with a mask covering our brave faces, frequently washing our helping hands to overcome these uncertain times.”
 

Conclusion

The creation of a focused group of hospitalists called COVIDists and providing them with structured and rapid training (in various aspects of clinical care of COVID-19 patients, critical care/ventilator management, efficient and safe use of PPE) and daily information dissemination allowed our health system to prepare for the large volume of COVID-19 patients. It also helped in preserving the larger hospital workforce for a possible future surge.

The rapid development and implementation of the COVIDist strategy succeeded because of the intrinsic motivation of the providers to improve the outcomes of this high-risk patient population and the close collaboration of the stakeholders. Our institution remains successful in managing the pandemic in Western Massachusetts, with reserve capacity remaining even during the peak of the epidemic. A large part of this was because of creating and training a pool of COVIDists.
 

Dr. Medarametla is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health, and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts, Worcester. Readers can contact him at [email protected]. Dr. Prabhakaran is unit medical director, geriatrics unit, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Bryson is associate program director of the Internal Medicine Residency at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts. Dr. Umar is medical director, clinical operations, in the division of hospital medicine at Baystate Health. Dr. Natanasabapathy is division chief of hospital medicine at Baystate Health and assistant professor at University of Massachusetts.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19). Updated Jun 10, 2020. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/cases-in-us.html.

2. Zhou F et al. Clinical course and risk factors for mortality of adult inpatients with COVID-19 in Wuhan, China: A retrospective cohort study. Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395(10229):1054-62.

3. Westafer LM et al. A transdisciplinary COVID-19 early respiratory intervention protocol: An implementation story. J Hosp Med. 2020 May 21;15(6):372-374.

4. Miller J. “Heroes on the front line: Dr. Raghuveer Rakasi.” Coverage. May 18, 2020. https://coverage.bluecrossma.com/article/heroes-front-line-dr-raghuveer-rakasi

Although deployment of hospitalists into ICUs during the COVID-19 crisis varies widely, in that sense it reflects the pre-COVID hospital landscape of variable involvement, in which many hospitalists pressed into this role expressed discomfort practicing critical care beyond their scope of training, according to a survey published in the Journal of Hospital Medicine in 2018.¹ “Hospitalists frequently deliver critical care services without adequate training or support, most prevalently in rural hospitals,” the authors concluded.

A Critical Care for the Hospitalist Series of resources and lectures developed by Eric Siegal, MD, a pulmonologist in Milwaukee, Wisc., and David Aymond, MD, a hospitalist in Alexandria, La., is available on the SHM website. They recommend that hospitalists trying to get oriented to working in the ICU start with the online courses on fluid resuscitation, mechanical ventilation, and noninvasive ventilation.

“Ninety-five percent of management of COVID-19 patients is nothing other than practicing sound critical care medicine,” Dr. Siegal said. “If you want to take effective care of sick COVID patients, you need to develop good foundational critical care skills and knowledge. Without them, you’re doing stuff without understand it.”

Dr. Aymond also encourages hospitalists to develop a stronger understanding of key physiological concepts by reviewing the critical care clinical topics compiled at SHM’s website.

References

1. Sweigart JR et al. Characterizing hospitalist practice and perceptions of critical care delivery. J Hosp Med. 2018 Jan;13(1):6-12.

Although deployment of hospitalists into ICUs during the COVID-19 crisis varies widely, in that sense it reflects the pre-COVID hospital landscape of variable involvement, in which many hospitalists pressed into this role expressed discomfort practicing critical care beyond their scope of training, according to a survey published in the Journal of Hospital Medicine in 2018.¹ “Hospitalists frequently deliver critical care services without adequate training or support, most prevalently in rural hospitals,” the authors concluded.

A Critical Care for the Hospitalist Series of resources and lectures developed by Eric Siegal, MD, a pulmonologist in Milwaukee, Wisc., and David Aymond, MD, a hospitalist in Alexandria, La., is available on the SHM website. They recommend that hospitalists trying to get oriented to working in the ICU start with the online courses on fluid resuscitation, mechanical ventilation, and noninvasive ventilation.

“Ninety-five percent of management of COVID-19 patients is nothing other than practicing sound critical care medicine,” Dr. Siegal said. “If you want to take effective care of sick COVID patients, you need to develop good foundational critical care skills and knowledge. Without them, you’re doing stuff without understand it.”

Dr. Aymond also encourages hospitalists to develop a stronger understanding of key physiological concepts by reviewing the critical care clinical topics compiled at SHM’s website.

References

1. Sweigart JR et al. Characterizing hospitalist practice and perceptions of critical care delivery. J Hosp Med. 2018 Jan;13(1):6-12.

Although deployment of hospitalists into ICUs during the COVID-19 crisis varies widely, in that sense it reflects the pre-COVID hospital landscape of variable involvement, in which many hospitalists pressed into this role expressed discomfort practicing critical care beyond their scope of training, according to a survey published in the Journal of Hospital Medicine in 2018.¹ “Hospitalists frequently deliver critical care services without adequate training or support, most prevalently in rural hospitals,” the authors concluded.

A Critical Care for the Hospitalist Series of resources and lectures developed by Eric Siegal, MD, a pulmonologist in Milwaukee, Wisc., and David Aymond, MD, a hospitalist in Alexandria, La., is available on the SHM website. They recommend that hospitalists trying to get oriented to working in the ICU start with the online courses on fluid resuscitation, mechanical ventilation, and noninvasive ventilation.

“Ninety-five percent of management of COVID-19 patients is nothing other than practicing sound critical care medicine,” Dr. Siegal said. “If you want to take effective care of sick COVID patients, you need to develop good foundational critical care skills and knowledge. Without them, you’re doing stuff without understand it.”

Dr. Aymond also encourages hospitalists to develop a stronger understanding of key physiological concepts by reviewing the critical care clinical topics compiled at SHM’s website.

References

1. Sweigart JR et al. Characterizing hospitalist practice and perceptions of critical care delivery. J Hosp Med. 2018 Jan;13(1):6-12.

Secondary respiratory infections appear to be highly prevalent among patients with severe COVID-19, but at this point, most pulmonologists aren’t sure what to make of this understudied phenomenon.

“We really do not understand the implications of secondary infections on outcomes in COVID-19 patients,” David L. Bowton, MD, FCCP, said in an interview. “In most early reports the incidence of secondary infections was much higher in patients dying from COVID-19, compared to survivors, but it isn’t clear whether this indicates that the secondary infection itself led to excess mortality or was more a marker of the severity of the COVID-19 infection.

“Further, details of the diagnostic criteria used, the microbiology, and the appropriateness of treatment of these secondary infections has not generally been included in these reports,” added Dr. Bowton, a pulmonologist and professor emeritus of critical care anesthesiology at Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, N.C.

One such early retrospective cohort study included 191 COVID-19 patients in Wuhan, China. Of the 54 who died in hospital, half had secondary bacterial lung infections (Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395[10229]:1054-62). That comes as no surprise to U.S. pulmonologists, who learned back in their training that many deaths during the so-called Spanish influenza epidemic of 1918-1920 were actually caused by secondary pneumonia involving Staphylococcus aureus, commented Daniel L. Ouellette, MD, FCCP, associate director of medical critical care at Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit.

“Critically ill patients are highly susceptible to secondary infections regardless of the cause of the patient’s critical illness,” he noted in an interview. “Recent reports of secondary infections in patients critically ill from COVID-19 are interesting but should be considered in this context. To confirm that COVID-19 patients have a different, or increased, risk of infection at specific sites or from specific agents will require careful study.”

That will be no easy matter given the challenges of obtaining bronchoalveolar lavage samples in mechanically ventilated patients with COVID-19, according to Eric J. Gartman, MD, FCCP, a pulmonologist at Brown University, Providence, R.I., and director of the pulmonary function laboratory at the Providence Veterans Affairs Medical Center.

“Unfortunately, many of the invasive modalities that are typically employed to help diagnose secondary infections in critically ill patients are being severely limited or even prohibited in COVID-19 patients due to infection control measures,” he said. As a result, Dr. Gartman noted, intensivists are often resorting to empiric broad-spectrum antimicrobial therapy in patients with severe COVID-19 and are without ready access to the bacterial cultures which might otherwise permit later treatment de-escalation or retargeting.

Among the myriad areas of uncertainty regarding COVID-19 is the proportion of bacterial coinfections that are hospital acquired. Given the lengthy duration of invasive mechanical ventilation in patients with severe COVID-19 – a mean of 9.1 days in the United Kingdom – the chances of hospital-acquired infection are likely substantial. Moreover, a recent single-center U.K. study involving microbiologic testing in 195 consecutive patients newly hospitalized for COVID-19 reported that community-acquired bacterial infection was uncommon: Just 4% of patients had pneumococcal coinfection at hospital admission, and S. aureus wasn’t detected in anyone (Lancet. 2020;1:362. doi:10.1016/S2666-5247[20]30036-7). French investigators have reported detecting putative invasive pulmonary aspergillosis in nearly one-third of a small series of 27 consecutive mechanically ventilated COVID-19 patients (Lancet Resp Med. 2020; 8[6]:e48-9). Dr. Gartman said the diagnostic testing methods utilized in this and similar reports haven’t been prospectively validated in COVID-19. The testing methods may not indicate invasive Aspergillus infection in this population with a high degree of certainty, since they have previously been performed mainly in patients with hematologic malignancies.

“Although there is nothing definitive regarding this research, as a practicing critical care doctor one should respect these findings and consider this secondary diagnosis if the supporting clinical data is positive, especially given that the mortality risk in this population is high,” he advised.

Dr. Bowton said that he and his fellow intensivists at Wake Forest Baptist Health don’t routinely screen COVID-19 patients for secondary bacterial or fungal infections. And in talking with colleagues around the country, it’s his impression that most have similarly elected not to do so.

“However, our clinical index of suspicion for secondary infections is heightened and, if triggered, will initiate a search for and treatment of these secondary infections,” Dr. Bowton said.
 

[email protected]

Secondary respiratory infections appear to be highly prevalent among patients with severe COVID-19, but at this point, most pulmonologists aren’t sure what to make of this understudied phenomenon.

“We really do not understand the implications of secondary infections on outcomes in COVID-19 patients,” David L. Bowton, MD, FCCP, said in an interview. “In most early reports the incidence of secondary infections was much higher in patients dying from COVID-19, compared to survivors, but it isn’t clear whether this indicates that the secondary infection itself led to excess mortality or was more a marker of the severity of the COVID-19 infection.

“Further, details of the diagnostic criteria used, the microbiology, and the appropriateness of treatment of these secondary infections has not generally been included in these reports,” added Dr. Bowton, a pulmonologist and professor emeritus of critical care anesthesiology at Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, N.C.

One such early retrospective cohort study included 191 COVID-19 patients in Wuhan, China. Of the 54 who died in hospital, half had secondary bacterial lung infections (Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395[10229]:1054-62). That comes as no surprise to U.S. pulmonologists, who learned back in their training that many deaths during the so-called Spanish influenza epidemic of 1918-1920 were actually caused by secondary pneumonia involving Staphylococcus aureus, commented Daniel L. Ouellette, MD, FCCP, associate director of medical critical care at Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit.

“Critically ill patients are highly susceptible to secondary infections regardless of the cause of the patient’s critical illness,” he noted in an interview. “Recent reports of secondary infections in patients critically ill from COVID-19 are interesting but should be considered in this context. To confirm that COVID-19 patients have a different, or increased, risk of infection at specific sites or from specific agents will require careful study.”

That will be no easy matter given the challenges of obtaining bronchoalveolar lavage samples in mechanically ventilated patients with COVID-19, according to Eric J. Gartman, MD, FCCP, a pulmonologist at Brown University, Providence, R.I., and director of the pulmonary function laboratory at the Providence Veterans Affairs Medical Center.

“Unfortunately, many of the invasive modalities that are typically employed to help diagnose secondary infections in critically ill patients are being severely limited or even prohibited in COVID-19 patients due to infection control measures,” he said. As a result, Dr. Gartman noted, intensivists are often resorting to empiric broad-spectrum antimicrobial therapy in patients with severe COVID-19 and are without ready access to the bacterial cultures which might otherwise permit later treatment de-escalation or retargeting.

Among the myriad areas of uncertainty regarding COVID-19 is the proportion of bacterial coinfections that are hospital acquired. Given the lengthy duration of invasive mechanical ventilation in patients with severe COVID-19 – a mean of 9.1 days in the United Kingdom – the chances of hospital-acquired infection are likely substantial. Moreover, a recent single-center U.K. study involving microbiologic testing in 195 consecutive patients newly hospitalized for COVID-19 reported that community-acquired bacterial infection was uncommon: Just 4% of patients had pneumococcal coinfection at hospital admission, and S. aureus wasn’t detected in anyone (Lancet. 2020;1:362. doi:10.1016/S2666-5247[20]30036-7). French investigators have reported detecting putative invasive pulmonary aspergillosis in nearly one-third of a small series of 27 consecutive mechanically ventilated COVID-19 patients (Lancet Resp Med. 2020; 8[6]:e48-9). Dr. Gartman said the diagnostic testing methods utilized in this and similar reports haven’t been prospectively validated in COVID-19. The testing methods may not indicate invasive Aspergillus infection in this population with a high degree of certainty, since they have previously been performed mainly in patients with hematologic malignancies.

“Although there is nothing definitive regarding this research, as a practicing critical care doctor one should respect these findings and consider this secondary diagnosis if the supporting clinical data is positive, especially given that the mortality risk in this population is high,” he advised.

Dr. Bowton said that he and his fellow intensivists at Wake Forest Baptist Health don’t routinely screen COVID-19 patients for secondary bacterial or fungal infections. And in talking with colleagues around the country, it’s his impression that most have similarly elected not to do so.

“However, our clinical index of suspicion for secondary infections is heightened and, if triggered, will initiate a search for and treatment of these secondary infections,” Dr. Bowton said.
 

[email protected]

Secondary respiratory infections appear to be highly prevalent among patients with severe COVID-19, but at this point, most pulmonologists aren’t sure what to make of this understudied phenomenon.

“We really do not understand the implications of secondary infections on outcomes in COVID-19 patients,” David L. Bowton, MD, FCCP, said in an interview. “In most early reports the incidence of secondary infections was much higher in patients dying from COVID-19, compared to survivors, but it isn’t clear whether this indicates that the secondary infection itself led to excess mortality or was more a marker of the severity of the COVID-19 infection.

“Further, details of the diagnostic criteria used, the microbiology, and the appropriateness of treatment of these secondary infections has not generally been included in these reports,” added Dr. Bowton, a pulmonologist and professor emeritus of critical care anesthesiology at Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, N.C.

One such early retrospective cohort study included 191 COVID-19 patients in Wuhan, China. Of the 54 who died in hospital, half had secondary bacterial lung infections (Lancet. 2020 Mar 28;395[10229]:1054-62). That comes as no surprise to U.S. pulmonologists, who learned back in their training that many deaths during the so-called Spanish influenza epidemic of 1918-1920 were actually caused by secondary pneumonia involving Staphylococcus aureus, commented Daniel L. Ouellette, MD, FCCP, associate director of medical critical care at Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit.

“Critically ill patients are highly susceptible to secondary infections regardless of the cause of the patient’s critical illness,” he noted in an interview. “Recent reports of secondary infections in patients critically ill from COVID-19 are interesting but should be considered in this context. To confirm that COVID-19 patients have a different, or increased, risk of infection at specific sites or from specific agents will require careful study.”

That will be no easy matter given the challenges of obtaining bronchoalveolar lavage samples in mechanically ventilated patients with COVID-19, according to Eric J. Gartman, MD, FCCP, a pulmonologist at Brown University, Providence, R.I., and director of the pulmonary function laboratory at the Providence Veterans Affairs Medical Center.

“Unfortunately, many of the invasive modalities that are typically employed to help diagnose secondary infections in critically ill patients are being severely limited or even prohibited in COVID-19 patients due to infection control measures,” he said. As a result, Dr. Gartman noted, intensivists are often resorting to empiric broad-spectrum antimicrobial therapy in patients with severe COVID-19 and are without ready access to the bacterial cultures which might otherwise permit later treatment de-escalation or retargeting.

Among the myriad areas of uncertainty regarding COVID-19 is the proportion of bacterial coinfections that are hospital acquired. Given the lengthy duration of invasive mechanical ventilation in patients with severe COVID-19 – a mean of 9.1 days in the United Kingdom – the chances of hospital-acquired infection are likely substantial. Moreover, a recent single-center U.K. study involving microbiologic testing in 195 consecutive patients newly hospitalized for COVID-19 reported that community-acquired bacterial infection was uncommon: Just 4% of patients had pneumococcal coinfection at hospital admission, and S. aureus wasn’t detected in anyone (Lancet. 2020;1:362. doi:10.1016/S2666-5247[20]30036-7). French investigators have reported detecting putative invasive pulmonary aspergillosis in nearly one-third of a small series of 27 consecutive mechanically ventilated COVID-19 patients (Lancet Resp Med. 2020; 8[6]:e48-9). Dr. Gartman said the diagnostic testing methods utilized in this and similar reports haven’t been prospectively validated in COVID-19. The testing methods may not indicate invasive Aspergillus infection in this population with a high degree of certainty, since they have previously been performed mainly in patients with hematologic malignancies.

“Although there is nothing definitive regarding this research, as a practicing critical care doctor one should respect these findings and consider this secondary diagnosis if the supporting clinical data is positive, especially given that the mortality risk in this population is high,” he advised.

Dr. Bowton said that he and his fellow intensivists at Wake Forest Baptist Health don’t routinely screen COVID-19 patients for secondary bacterial or fungal infections. And in talking with colleagues around the country, it’s his impression that most have similarly elected not to do so.

“However, our clinical index of suspicion for secondary infections is heightened and, if triggered, will initiate a search for and treatment of these secondary infections,” Dr. Bowton said.
 

[email protected]

In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, health systems, hospitals, and hospitalists – especially in hot spots like New York, Detroit, or Boston – have been challenged to stretch limits, redefine roles, and redeploy critical staff in response to rapidly changing needs on the ground.

Many hospitalists are working above and beyond their normal duties, sometimes beyond their training, specialty, or comfort zone and are rising to the occasion in ways they never imagined. These include doing shifts in ICUs, working with ventilator patients, and reporting to other atypical sites of care like postanesthesia care units and post-acute or step-down units.

Valerie Vaughn, MD, MSc, a hospitalist with Michigan Medicine and assistant professor of medicine at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, was doing research on how to reduce overuse of antibiotics in hospitals when the COVID-19 crisis hit and dramatically redefined her job. “We were afraid that we might have 3,000 to 5,000 hospitalized COVID patients by now, based on predictive modeling done while the pandemic was still growing exponentially,” she explained. Although Michigan continues to have high COVID-19 infection rates, centered on nearby Detroit, “things are a lot better today than they were 4 weeks ago.”

Dr. Vaughn helped to mobilize a team of 25 hospitalists, along with other health care providers, who volunteered to manage COVID-19 patients in the ICU and other hospital units. She was asked to help develop an all-COVID unit called the Regional Infectious Containment Unit or RICU, which opened March 16. Then, when the RICU became full, it was supplemented by two COVID-19 Moderate Care Units staffed by hospitalists who had “learned the ropes” in the RICU.

Both of these new models were defined in relation to the ICUs at Michigan Medicine – which were doubling in capacity, up to 200 beds at last count – and to the provision of intensive-level and long-term ventilator care for the sickest patients. The moderate care units are for patients who are not on ventilators but still very sick, for example, those receiving massive high-flow oxygen, often with a medical do-not-resuscitate/do-not-intubate order. “We established these units to do everything (medically) short of vents,” Dr. Vaughn said.

“We are having in-depth conversations about goals of care with patients soon after they arrive at the hospital. We know outcomes from ventilators are worse for COVID-positive patients who have comorbidities, and we’re using that information to inform these conversations. We’ve given scripts to clinicians to help guide them in leading these conversations. We can do other things than `use ventilators to manage their symptoms. But these are still difficult conversations,” Dr. Vaughn said.

“We also engaged palliative care early on and asked them to round with us on every [COVID] patient – until demand got too high.” The bottleneck has been the number of ICU beds available, she explained. “If you want your patient to come in and take that bed, make sure you’ve talked to the family about it.”

The COVID-19 team developed guidelines printed on pocket cards addressing critical care issues such as a refresher on how to treat acute respiratory distress syndrome and how to use vasopressors. (See the COVID-19 Continuing Medical Education Portal for web-accessible educational resources developed by Michigan Health).

It’s amazing how quickly patients can become very sick with COVID-19, Dr. Vaughn said. “One of the good things to happen from the beginning with our RICU is that a group of doctors became COVID care experts very quickly. We joined four to five hospitalists and their teams with each intensivist, so one critical care expert is there to do teaching and answer clinicians’ questions. The hospitalists coordinate the COVID care and talk to the families.”

Working on the front lines of this crisis, Dr. Vaughn said, has generated a powerful sense of purpose and camaraderie, creating bonds like in war time. “All of us on our days off feel a twinge of guilt for not being there in the hospital. The sense of gratitude we get from patients and families has been enormous, even when we were telling them bad news. That just brings us to tears.”

One of the hardest things for the doctors practicing above their typical scope of practice is that, when something bad happens, they can’t know whether it was a mistake on their part or not, she noted. “But I’ve never been so proud of our group or to be a hospitalist. No one has complained or pushed back. Everyone has responded by saying: ‘What can I do to help?’ ”
 

Enough work in hospital medicine

Hospitalists had not been deployed to care for ICU patients at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center (BIDMC) in Boston, a major hot spot for COVID-19, said Joseph Ming Wah Li, MD, SFHM, director of the hospital medicine program at BIDMC, when he spoke to The Hospitalist in mid-May. That’s because there were plenty of hospital medicine assignments to keep them busy. Dr. Li leads a service of 120 hospitalists practicing at four hospitals.

“As we speak today, we have 300 patients with COVID, with 70 or 80 of them in our ICU. I’m taking care of 17 patients today, 15 of them COVID-positive, and the other two placed in a former radiology holding suite adapted for COVID-negative patients. Our postanesthesia care unit is now an ICU filled with COVID patients,” he said.

“Half of my day is seeing patients and the other half I’m on Zoom calls. I’m also one of the resource allocation officers for BIDMC,” Dr. Li said. He helped to create a standard of care for the hospital, addressing what to do if there weren’t enough ICU beds or ventilators. “We’ve never actualized it and probably won’t, but it was important to go through this exercise, with a lot of discussion up front.”

Haki Laho, MD, an orthopedic hospitalist at New England Baptist Hospital (NEBH), also in Boston, has been redeployed to care for a different population of patients as his system tries to bunch patients. “All of a sudden – within hours and days – at the beginning of the pandemic and based on the recommendations, our whole system decided to stop all elective procedures and devote the resources to COVID,” he said.

NEBH is Beth Israel Lahey Health’s 141-bed orthopedic and surgical hospital, and the system has tried to keep the specialty facility COVID-19–free as much as possible, with the COVID-19 patients grouped together at BIDMC. Dr. Laho’s orthopedic hospitalist group, just five doctors, has been managing the influx of medical patients with multiple comorbidities – not COVID-19–infected but still a different kind of patient than they are used to.

“So far, so good. We’re dealing with it,” he said. “But if one of us got sick, the others would have to step up and do more shifts. We are physicians, internal medicine trained, but since my residency I hadn’t had to deal with these kinds of issues on a daily basis, such as setting up IV lines. I feel like I am back in residency mode.”
 

Convention Center medicine

Another Boston hospitalist, Amy Baughman, MD, who practices at Massachusetts General Hospital, is using her skills in a new setting, serving as a co-medical director at Boston Hope Medical Center, a 1,000-bed field hospital for patients with COVID-19. Open since April 10 and housed in the Boston Convention and Exhibition Center, it is a four-way collaboration between the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, the City of Boston, Partners HealthCare, and the Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program.

Boston Hope is divided into a post-acute care section for recovering COVID-19 patients and a respite section for undomiciled patients with COVID-19 who need a place to safely quarantine. Built for a maximum of 1,000 beds, it is currently using fewer, with 83 patients on the post-acute side and 73 on the respite side as of May 12. A total of 370 and 315, respectively, had been admitted through May 12.

The team had 5 days to put the field hospital together with the help of the Army National Guard. “During that first week I was installing hand sanitizer dispensers and making [personal protective equipment] signs. Everyone here has had to do things like that,” Dr. Baughman said. “We’ve had to be incredibly creative in our staffing, using doctors from primary care and subspecialties including dermatology, radiology, and orthopedics. We had to fast-track trainings on how to use EPIC and to provide post-acute COVID care. How do you simultaneously build a medical facility and lead teams to provide high quality care?”

Dr. Baughman still works hospitalist shifts half-time at Massachusetts General. Her prior experience providing post-acute care in the VA system was helpful in creating the post-acute level of care at Boston Hope.

“My medical director role involves supervising, staffing, and scheduling. My co-medical director, Dr. Kerri Palamara, and I also supervise the clinical care,” she said. “There are a lot of systems issues, like ordering labs or prescriptions, with couriers going back and forth. And we developed clinical pathways, such as for [deep vein thrombosis] prophylaxis or for COVID retesting to determine when it is safe to end a quarantine. We’re just now rolling out virtual specialist consultations,” she noted.

“It has gone incredibly well. So much of it has been about our ability and willingness to work hard, and take feedback and go forward. We don’t have time to harp on things. We have to be very solution oriented. At the same time, honestly, it’s been fun. Every single day is different,” Dr. Baughman said.

“It’s been an opportunity to use my skills in a totally new setting, and at a level of responsibility I haven’t had before, although that’s probably a common theme with COVID-19. I was put on this team because I am a hospitalist,” she said. “I think hospitalists have been the backbone of the response to COVID in this country. It’s been an opportunity for our specialty to shine. We need to embrace the opportunity.”
 

Balancing expertise and supervision

Mount Sinai Hospital (MSH) in Manhattan is in the New York epicenter of the COVID-19 crisis and has mobilized large numbers of pulmonary critical care and anesthesia physicians to staff up multiple ICUs for COVID-19 patients, said Andrew Dunn, MD, chief of the division of hospital medicine at Mount Sinai School of Medicine.

“My hospitalist group is covering many step-down units, medical wards, and atypical locations, providing advanced oxygen therapies, [bilevel positive airway pressure], high-flow nasal cannulas, and managing some patients on ventilators,” he said.

MSH has teaching services with house staff and nonteaching services. “We combined them into a unified service with house staff dispersed across all of the teams. We drafted a lot of nonhospitalists from different specialties to be attendings, and that has given us a tiered model, with a hospitalist supervising three or four nonhospitalist-led teams. Although the supervising hospitalists carry no patient caseloads of their own, this is primarily a clinical rather than an administrative role.”

At the peak, there were 40 rounding teams at MSH, each with a typical census of 15 patients or more, which meant that 10 supervisory hospitalists were responsible for 300 to 400 patients. “What we learned first was the need to balance the level of expertise. For example, a team may include a postgraduate year 3 resident and a radiology intern,” Dr. Dunn said. As COVID-19 census has started coming down, supervisory hospitalists are returning to direct care attending roles, and some hospitalists have been shared across the Mount Sinai system’s hospitals.

Dr. Dunn’s advice for hospitalists filling a supervisory role like this in a tiered model: Make sure you talk to your team the night before the first day of a scheduling block and try to address as many of their questions as possible. “If you wait until the morning of the shift to connect with them, anxiety will be high. But after going through a couple of scheduling cycles, we find that things are getting better. I think we’ve paid a lot of attention to the risks of burnout by our physicians. We’re using a model of 4 days on/4 off.”

Another variation on these themes is Joshua Shatzkes, MD, assistant professor of medicine and cardiology at Mount Sinai, who practices outpatient cardiology at MSH and in several off-site offices in Brooklyn. He saw early on that COVID-19 would have a huge effect on his practice, so he volunteered to help out with inpatient care. “I made it known to my chief that I was available, and I was deployed in the first week, after a weekend of cramming webinars and lectures on critical care and pulling out critical concepts that I already knew.”

Dr. Shatzkes said his career path led him into outpatient cardiology 11 years ago, where he was quickly too busy to see his patients when they went into the hospital, even though he missed hospital medicine. Working as a temporary hospitalist with the arrival of COVID-19, he has been invigorated and mobilized by the experience and reminded of why he went to medical school in the first place. “Each day’s shift went quickly but felt long. At the end of the day, I was tired but not exhausted. When I walked out of a patient’s room, they could tell, ‘This is a doctor who cared for me,’ ” he said.

After Dr. Shatzkes volunteered, he got the call from his division chief. “I was officially deployed for a 4-day shift at Mount Sinai and then as a backup.” On his first morning as an inpatient doctor, he was still getting oriented when calls started coming from the nurses. “I had five patients struggling to breathe. Their degree of hypoxia was remarkable. I kept them out of the ICU, at least for that day.”

Since then, he has continued to follow some of those patients in the hospital, along with some from his outpatient practice who were hospitalized, and others referred by colleagues, while remaining available to his outpatients through telemedicine. When this is all over, Dr. Shatzkes said, he would love to find a way to incorporate a hospital practice in his job – depending on the realities of New York traffic.

“Joshua is not a hospitalist, but he went on service and felt so fulfilled and rewarded, he asked me if he could stay on service,” Dr. Dunn said. “I also got an email from the nurse manager on the unit. They want him back.”

In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, health systems, hospitals, and hospitalists – especially in hot spots like New York, Detroit, or Boston – have been challenged to stretch limits, redefine roles, and redeploy critical staff in response to rapidly changing needs on the ground.

Many hospitalists are working above and beyond their normal duties, sometimes beyond their training, specialty, or comfort zone and are rising to the occasion in ways they never imagined. These include doing shifts in ICUs, working with ventilator patients, and reporting to other atypical sites of care like postanesthesia care units and post-acute or step-down units.

Valerie Vaughn, MD, MSc, a hospitalist with Michigan Medicine and assistant professor of medicine at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, was doing research on how to reduce overuse of antibiotics in hospitals when the COVID-19 crisis hit and dramatically redefined her job. “We were afraid that we might have 3,000 to 5,000 hospitalized COVID patients by now, based on predictive modeling done while the pandemic was still growing exponentially,” she explained. Although Michigan continues to have high COVID-19 infection rates, centered on nearby Detroit, “things are a lot better today than they were 4 weeks ago.”

Dr. Vaughn helped to mobilize a team of 25 hospitalists, along with other health care providers, who volunteered to manage COVID-19 patients in the ICU and other hospital units. She was asked to help develop an all-COVID unit called the Regional Infectious Containment Unit or RICU, which opened March 16. Then, when the RICU became full, it was supplemented by two COVID-19 Moderate Care Units staffed by hospitalists who had “learned the ropes” in the RICU.

Both of these new models were defined in relation to the ICUs at Michigan Medicine – which were doubling in capacity, up to 200 beds at last count – and to the provision of intensive-level and long-term ventilator care for the sickest patients. The moderate care units are for patients who are not on ventilators but still very sick, for example, those receiving massive high-flow oxygen, often with a medical do-not-resuscitate/do-not-intubate order. “We established these units to do everything (medically) short of vents,” Dr. Vaughn said.

“We are having in-depth conversations about goals of care with patients soon after they arrive at the hospital. We know outcomes from ventilators are worse for COVID-positive patients who have comorbidities, and we’re using that information to inform these conversations. We’ve given scripts to clinicians to help guide them in leading these conversations. We can do other things than `use ventilators to manage their symptoms. But these are still difficult conversations,” Dr. Vaughn said.

“We also engaged palliative care early on and asked them to round with us on every [COVID] patient – until demand got too high.” The bottleneck has been the number of ICU beds available, she explained. “If you want your patient to come in and take that bed, make sure you’ve talked to the family about it.”

The COVID-19 team developed guidelines printed on pocket cards addressing critical care issues such as a refresher on how to treat acute respiratory distress syndrome and how to use vasopressors. (See the COVID-19 Continuing Medical Education Portal for web-accessible educational resources developed by Michigan Health).

It’s amazing how quickly patients can become very sick with COVID-19, Dr. Vaughn said. “One of the good things to happen from the beginning with our RICU is that a group of doctors became COVID care experts very quickly. We joined four to five hospitalists and their teams with each intensivist, so one critical care expert is there to do teaching and answer clinicians’ questions. The hospitalists coordinate the COVID care and talk to the families.”

Working on the front lines of this crisis, Dr. Vaughn said, has generated a powerful sense of purpose and camaraderie, creating bonds like in war time. “All of us on our days off feel a twinge of guilt for not being there in the hospital. The sense of gratitude we get from patients and families has been enormous, even when we were telling them bad news. That just brings us to tears.”

One of the hardest things for the doctors practicing above their typical scope of practice is that, when something bad happens, they can’t know whether it was a mistake on their part or not, she noted. “But I’ve never been so proud of our group or to be a hospitalist. No one has complained or pushed back. Everyone has responded by saying: ‘What can I do to help?’ ”
 

Enough work in hospital medicine

Hospitalists had not been deployed to care for ICU patients at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center (BIDMC) in Boston, a major hot spot for COVID-19, said Joseph Ming Wah Li, MD, SFHM, director of the hospital medicine program at BIDMC, when he spoke to The Hospitalist in mid-May. That’s because there were plenty of hospital medicine assignments to keep them busy. Dr. Li leads a service of 120 hospitalists practicing at four hospitals.

“As we speak today, we have 300 patients with COVID, with 70 or 80 of them in our ICU. I’m taking care of 17 patients today, 15 of them COVID-positive, and the other two placed in a former radiology holding suite adapted for COVID-negative patients. Our postanesthesia care unit is now an ICU filled with COVID patients,” he said.

“Half of my day is seeing patients and the other half I’m on Zoom calls. I’m also one of the resource allocation officers for BIDMC,” Dr. Li said. He helped to create a standard of care for the hospital, addressing what to do if there weren’t enough ICU beds or ventilators. “We’ve never actualized it and probably won’t, but it was important to go through this exercise, with a lot of discussion up front.”

Haki Laho, MD, an orthopedic hospitalist at New England Baptist Hospital (NEBH), also in Boston, has been redeployed to care for a different population of patients as his system tries to bunch patients. “All of a sudden – within hours and days – at the beginning of the pandemic and based on the recommendations, our whole system decided to stop all elective procedures and devote the resources to COVID,” he said.

NEBH is Beth Israel Lahey Health’s 141-bed orthopedic and surgical hospital, and the system has tried to keep the specialty facility COVID-19–free as much as possible, with the COVID-19 patients grouped together at BIDMC. Dr. Laho’s orthopedic hospitalist group, just five doctors, has been managing the influx of medical patients with multiple comorbidities – not COVID-19–infected but still a different kind of patient than they are used to.

“So far, so good. We’re dealing with it,” he said. “But if one of us got sick, the others would have to step up and do more shifts. We are physicians, internal medicine trained, but since my residency I hadn’t had to deal with these kinds of issues on a daily basis, such as setting up IV lines. I feel like I am back in residency mode.”
 

Convention Center medicine

Another Boston hospitalist, Amy Baughman, MD, who practices at Massachusetts General Hospital, is using her skills in a new setting, serving as a co-medical director at Boston Hope Medical Center, a 1,000-bed field hospital for patients with COVID-19. Open since April 10 and housed in the Boston Convention and Exhibition Center, it is a four-way collaboration between the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, the City of Boston, Partners HealthCare, and the Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program.

Boston Hope is divided into a post-acute care section for recovering COVID-19 patients and a respite section for undomiciled patients with COVID-19 who need a place to safely quarantine. Built for a maximum of 1,000 beds, it is currently using fewer, with 83 patients on the post-acute side and 73 on the respite side as of May 12. A total of 370 and 315, respectively, had been admitted through May 12.

The team had 5 days to put the field hospital together with the help of the Army National Guard. “During that first week I was installing hand sanitizer dispensers and making [personal protective equipment] signs. Everyone here has had to do things like that,” Dr. Baughman said. “We’ve had to be incredibly creative in our staffing, using doctors from primary care and subspecialties including dermatology, radiology, and orthopedics. We had to fast-track trainings on how to use EPIC and to provide post-acute COVID care. How do you simultaneously build a medical facility and lead teams to provide high quality care?”

Dr. Baughman still works hospitalist shifts half-time at Massachusetts General. Her prior experience providing post-acute care in the VA system was helpful in creating the post-acute level of care at Boston Hope.

“My medical director role involves supervising, staffing, and scheduling. My co-medical director, Dr. Kerri Palamara, and I also supervise the clinical care,” she said. “There are a lot of systems issues, like ordering labs or prescriptions, with couriers going back and forth. And we developed clinical pathways, such as for [deep vein thrombosis] prophylaxis or for COVID retesting to determine when it is safe to end a quarantine. We’re just now rolling out virtual specialist consultations,” she noted.

“It has gone incredibly well. So much of it has been about our ability and willingness to work hard, and take feedback and go forward. We don’t have time to harp on things. We have to be very solution oriented. At the same time, honestly, it’s been fun. Every single day is different,” Dr. Baughman said.

“It’s been an opportunity to use my skills in a totally new setting, and at a level of responsibility I haven’t had before, although that’s probably a common theme with COVID-19. I was put on this team because I am a hospitalist,” she said. “I think hospitalists have been the backbone of the response to COVID in this country. It’s been an opportunity for our specialty to shine. We need to embrace the opportunity.”
 

Balancing expertise and supervision

Mount Sinai Hospital (MSH) in Manhattan is in the New York epicenter of the COVID-19 crisis and has mobilized large numbers of pulmonary critical care and anesthesia physicians to staff up multiple ICUs for COVID-19 patients, said Andrew Dunn, MD, chief of the division of hospital medicine at Mount Sinai School of Medicine.

“My hospitalist group is covering many step-down units, medical wards, and atypical locations, providing advanced oxygen therapies, [bilevel positive airway pressure], high-flow nasal cannulas, and managing some patients on ventilators,” he said.

MSH has teaching services with house staff and nonteaching services. “We combined them into a unified service with house staff dispersed across all of the teams. We drafted a lot of nonhospitalists from different specialties to be attendings, and that has given us a tiered model, with a hospitalist supervising three or four nonhospitalist-led teams. Although the supervising hospitalists carry no patient caseloads of their own, this is primarily a clinical rather than an administrative role.”

At the peak, there were 40 rounding teams at MSH, each with a typical census of 15 patients or more, which meant that 10 supervisory hospitalists were responsible for 300 to 400 patients. “What we learned first was the need to balance the level of expertise. For example, a team may include a postgraduate year 3 resident and a radiology intern,” Dr. Dunn said. As COVID-19 census has started coming down, supervisory hospitalists are returning to direct care attending roles, and some hospitalists have been shared across the Mount Sinai system’s hospitals.

Dr. Dunn’s advice for hospitalists filling a supervisory role like this in a tiered model: Make sure you talk to your team the night before the first day of a scheduling block and try to address as many of their questions as possible. “If you wait until the morning of the shift to connect with them, anxiety will be high. But after going through a couple of scheduling cycles, we find that things are getting better. I think we’ve paid a lot of attention to the risks of burnout by our physicians. We’re using a model of 4 days on/4 off.”

Another variation on these themes is Joshua Shatzkes, MD, assistant professor of medicine and cardiology at Mount Sinai, who practices outpatient cardiology at MSH and in several off-site offices in Brooklyn. He saw early on that COVID-19 would have a huge effect on his practice, so he volunteered to help out with inpatient care. “I made it known to my chief that I was available, and I was deployed in the first week, after a weekend of cramming webinars and lectures on critical care and pulling out critical concepts that I already knew.”

Dr. Shatzkes said his career path led him into outpatient cardiology 11 years ago, where he was quickly too busy to see his patients when they went into the hospital, even though he missed hospital medicine. Working as a temporary hospitalist with the arrival of COVID-19, he has been invigorated and mobilized by the experience and reminded of why he went to medical school in the first place. “Each day’s shift went quickly but felt long. At the end of the day, I was tired but not exhausted. When I walked out of a patient’s room, they could tell, ‘This is a doctor who cared for me,’ ” he said.

After Dr. Shatzkes volunteered, he got the call from his division chief. “I was officially deployed for a 4-day shift at Mount Sinai and then as a backup.” On his first morning as an inpatient doctor, he was still getting oriented when calls started coming from the nurses. “I had five patients struggling to breathe. Their degree of hypoxia was remarkable. I kept them out of the ICU, at least for that day.”

Since then, he has continued to follow some of those patients in the hospital, along with some from his outpatient practice who were hospitalized, and others referred by colleagues, while remaining available to his outpatients through telemedicine. When this is all over, Dr. Shatzkes said, he would love to find a way to incorporate a hospital practice in his job – depending on the realities of New York traffic.

“Joshua is not a hospitalist, but he went on service and felt so fulfilled and rewarded, he asked me if he could stay on service,” Dr. Dunn said. “I also got an email from the nurse manager on the unit. They want him back.”

In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, health systems, hospitals, and hospitalists – especially in hot spots like New York, Detroit, or Boston – have been challenged to stretch limits, redefine roles, and redeploy critical staff in response to rapidly changing needs on the ground.

Many hospitalists are working above and beyond their normal duties, sometimes beyond their training, specialty, or comfort zone and are rising to the occasion in ways they never imagined. These include doing shifts in ICUs, working with ventilator patients, and reporting to other atypical sites of care like postanesthesia care units and post-acute or step-down units.

Valerie Vaughn, MD, MSc, a hospitalist with Michigan Medicine and assistant professor of medicine at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, was doing research on how to reduce overuse of antibiotics in hospitals when the COVID-19 crisis hit and dramatically redefined her job. “We were afraid that we might have 3,000 to 5,000 hospitalized COVID patients by now, based on predictive modeling done while the pandemic was still growing exponentially,” she explained. Although Michigan continues to have high COVID-19 infection rates, centered on nearby Detroit, “things are a lot better today than they were 4 weeks ago.”

Dr. Vaughn helped to mobilize a team of 25 hospitalists, along with other health care providers, who volunteered to manage COVID-19 patients in the ICU and other hospital units. She was asked to help develop an all-COVID unit called the Regional Infectious Containment Unit or RICU, which opened March 16. Then, when the RICU became full, it was supplemented by two COVID-19 Moderate Care Units staffed by hospitalists who had “learned the ropes” in the RICU.

Both of these new models were defined in relation to the ICUs at Michigan Medicine – which were doubling in capacity, up to 200 beds at last count – and to the provision of intensive-level and long-term ventilator care for the sickest patients. The moderate care units are for patients who are not on ventilators but still very sick, for example, those receiving massive high-flow oxygen, often with a medical do-not-resuscitate/do-not-intubate order. “We established these units to do everything (medically) short of vents,” Dr. Vaughn said.

“We are having in-depth conversations about goals of care with patients soon after they arrive at the hospital. We know outcomes from ventilators are worse for COVID-positive patients who have comorbidities, and we’re using that information to inform these conversations. We’ve given scripts to clinicians to help guide them in leading these conversations. We can do other things than `use ventilators to manage their symptoms. But these are still difficult conversations,” Dr. Vaughn said.

“We also engaged palliative care early on and asked them to round with us on every [COVID] patient – until demand got too high.” The bottleneck has been the number of ICU beds available, she explained. “If you want your patient to come in and take that bed, make sure you’ve talked to the family about it.”

The COVID-19 team developed guidelines printed on pocket cards addressing critical care issues such as a refresher on how to treat acute respiratory distress syndrome and how to use vasopressors. (See the COVID-19 Continuing Medical Education Portal for web-accessible educational resources developed by Michigan Health).

It’s amazing how quickly patients can become very sick with COVID-19, Dr. Vaughn said. “One of the good things to happen from the beginning with our RICU is that a group of doctors became COVID care experts very quickly. We joined four to five hospitalists and their teams with each intensivist, so one critical care expert is there to do teaching and answer clinicians’ questions. The hospitalists coordinate the COVID care and talk to the families.”

Working on the front lines of this crisis, Dr. Vaughn said, has generated a powerful sense of purpose and camaraderie, creating bonds like in war time. “All of us on our days off feel a twinge of guilt for not being there in the hospital. The sense of gratitude we get from patients and families has been enormous, even when we were telling them bad news. That just brings us to tears.”

One of the hardest things for the doctors practicing above their typical scope of practice is that, when something bad happens, they can’t know whether it was a mistake on their part or not, she noted. “But I’ve never been so proud of our group or to be a hospitalist. No one has complained or pushed back. Everyone has responded by saying: ‘What can I do to help?’ ”
 

Enough work in hospital medicine

Hospitalists had not been deployed to care for ICU patients at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center (BIDMC) in Boston, a major hot spot for COVID-19, said Joseph Ming Wah Li, MD, SFHM, director of the hospital medicine program at BIDMC, when he spoke to The Hospitalist in mid-May. That’s because there were plenty of hospital medicine assignments to keep them busy. Dr. Li leads a service of 120 hospitalists practicing at four hospitals.

“As we speak today, we have 300 patients with COVID, with 70 or 80 of them in our ICU. I’m taking care of 17 patients today, 15 of them COVID-positive, and the other two placed in a former radiology holding suite adapted for COVID-negative patients. Our postanesthesia care unit is now an ICU filled with COVID patients,” he said.

“Half of my day is seeing patients and the other half I’m on Zoom calls. I’m also one of the resource allocation officers for BIDMC,” Dr. Li said. He helped to create a standard of care for the hospital, addressing what to do if there weren’t enough ICU beds or ventilators. “We’ve never actualized it and probably won’t, but it was important to go through this exercise, with a lot of discussion up front.”

Haki Laho, MD, an orthopedic hospitalist at New England Baptist Hospital (NEBH), also in Boston, has been redeployed to care for a different population of patients as his system tries to bunch patients. “All of a sudden – within hours and days – at the beginning of the pandemic and based on the recommendations, our whole system decided to stop all elective procedures and devote the resources to COVID,” he said.

NEBH is Beth Israel Lahey Health’s 141-bed orthopedic and surgical hospital, and the system has tried to keep the specialty facility COVID-19–free as much as possible, with the COVID-19 patients grouped together at BIDMC. Dr. Laho’s orthopedic hospitalist group, just five doctors, has been managing the influx of medical patients with multiple comorbidities – not COVID-19–infected but still a different kind of patient than they are used to.

“So far, so good. We’re dealing with it,” he said. “But if one of us got sick, the others would have to step up and do more shifts. We are physicians, internal medicine trained, but since my residency I hadn’t had to deal with these kinds of issues on a daily basis, such as setting up IV lines. I feel like I am back in residency mode.”
 

Convention Center medicine

Another Boston hospitalist, Amy Baughman, MD, who practices at Massachusetts General Hospital, is using her skills in a new setting, serving as a co-medical director at Boston Hope Medical Center, a 1,000-bed field hospital for patients with COVID-19. Open since April 10 and housed in the Boston Convention and Exhibition Center, it is a four-way collaboration between the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, the City of Boston, Partners HealthCare, and the Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program.

Boston Hope is divided into a post-acute care section for recovering COVID-19 patients and a respite section for undomiciled patients with COVID-19 who need a place to safely quarantine. Built for a maximum of 1,000 beds, it is currently using fewer, with 83 patients on the post-acute side and 73 on the respite side as of May 12. A total of 370 and 315, respectively, had been admitted through May 12.

The team had 5 days to put the field hospital together with the help of the Army National Guard. “During that first week I was installing hand sanitizer dispensers and making [personal protective equipment] signs. Everyone here has had to do things like that,” Dr. Baughman said. “We’ve had to be incredibly creative in our staffing, using doctors from primary care and subspecialties including dermatology, radiology, and orthopedics. We had to fast-track trainings on how to use EPIC and to provide post-acute COVID care. How do you simultaneously build a medical facility and lead teams to provide high quality care?”

Dr. Baughman still works hospitalist shifts half-time at Massachusetts General. Her prior experience providing post-acute care in the VA system was helpful in creating the post-acute level of care at Boston Hope.

“My medical director role involves supervising, staffing, and scheduling. My co-medical director, Dr. Kerri Palamara, and I also supervise the clinical care,” she said. “There are a lot of systems issues, like ordering labs or prescriptions, with couriers going back and forth. And we developed clinical pathways, such as for [deep vein thrombosis] prophylaxis or for COVID retesting to determine when it is safe to end a quarantine. We’re just now rolling out virtual specialist consultations,” she noted.

“It has gone incredibly well. So much of it has been about our ability and willingness to work hard, and take feedback and go forward. We don’t have time to harp on things. We have to be very solution oriented. At the same time, honestly, it’s been fun. Every single day is different,” Dr. Baughman said.

“It’s been an opportunity to use my skills in a totally new setting, and at a level of responsibility I haven’t had before, although that’s probably a common theme with COVID-19. I was put on this team because I am a hospitalist,” she said. “I think hospitalists have been the backbone of the response to COVID in this country. It’s been an opportunity for our specialty to shine. We need to embrace the opportunity.”
 

Balancing expertise and supervision

Mount Sinai Hospital (MSH) in Manhattan is in the New York epicenter of the COVID-19 crisis and has mobilized large numbers of pulmonary critical care and anesthesia physicians to staff up multiple ICUs for COVID-19 patients, said Andrew Dunn, MD, chief of the division of hospital medicine at Mount Sinai School of Medicine.

“My hospitalist group is covering many step-down units, medical wards, and atypical locations, providing advanced oxygen therapies, [bilevel positive airway pressure], high-flow nasal cannulas, and managing some patients on ventilators,” he said.

MSH has teaching services with house staff and nonteaching services. “We combined them into a unified service with house staff dispersed across all of the teams. We drafted a lot of nonhospitalists from different specialties to be attendings, and that has given us a tiered model, with a hospitalist supervising three or four nonhospitalist-led teams. Although the supervising hospitalists carry no patient caseloads of their own, this is primarily a clinical rather than an administrative role.”

At the peak, there were 40 rounding teams at MSH, each with a typical census of 15 patients or more, which meant that 10 supervisory hospitalists were responsible for 300 to 400 patients. “What we learned first was the need to balance the level of expertise. For example, a team may include a postgraduate year 3 resident and a radiology intern,” Dr. Dunn said. As COVID-19 census has started coming down, supervisory hospitalists are returning to direct care attending roles, and some hospitalists have been shared across the Mount Sinai system’s hospitals.

Dr. Dunn’s advice for hospitalists filling a supervisory role like this in a tiered model: Make sure you talk to your team the night before the first day of a scheduling block and try to address as many of their questions as possible. “If you wait until the morning of the shift to connect with them, anxiety will be high. But after going through a couple of scheduling cycles, we find that things are getting better. I think we’ve paid a lot of attention to the risks of burnout by our physicians. We’re using a model of 4 days on/4 off.”

Another variation on these themes is Joshua Shatzkes, MD, assistant professor of medicine and cardiology at Mount Sinai, who practices outpatient cardiology at MSH and in several off-site offices in Brooklyn. He saw early on that COVID-19 would have a huge effect on his practice, so he volunteered to help out with inpatient care. “I made it known to my chief that I was available, and I was deployed in the first week, after a weekend of cramming webinars and lectures on critical care and pulling out critical concepts that I already knew.”

Dr. Shatzkes said his career path led him into outpatient cardiology 11 years ago, where he was quickly too busy to see his patients when they went into the hospital, even though he missed hospital medicine. Working as a temporary hospitalist with the arrival of COVID-19, he has been invigorated and mobilized by the experience and reminded of why he went to medical school in the first place. “Each day’s shift went quickly but felt long. At the end of the day, I was tired but not exhausted. When I walked out of a patient’s room, they could tell, ‘This is a doctor who cared for me,’ ” he said.

After Dr. Shatzkes volunteered, he got the call from his division chief. “I was officially deployed for a 4-day shift at Mount Sinai and then as a backup.” On his first morning as an inpatient doctor, he was still getting oriented when calls started coming from the nurses. “I had five patients struggling to breathe. Their degree of hypoxia was remarkable. I kept them out of the ICU, at least for that day.”

Since then, he has continued to follow some of those patients in the hospital, along with some from his outpatient practice who were hospitalized, and others referred by colleagues, while remaining available to his outpatients through telemedicine. When this is all over, Dr. Shatzkes said, he would love to find a way to incorporate a hospital practice in his job – depending on the realities of New York traffic.

“Joshua is not a hospitalist, but he went on service and felt so fulfilled and rewarded, he asked me if he could stay on service,” Dr. Dunn said. “I also got an email from the nurse manager on the unit. They want him back.”

My first exposure to the notion of scarce resources was in medical school. I had to discuss the ethical principles behind the allocation of organs for transplantation, specifically livers and the required abstinence from alcohol ... but this was just an exercise, right?

A few years later, during residency, I heard the anecdotes from one of my internal medicine attendings about the time he spent in Europe as a visiting geriatrics fellow in the 1970s. The health-care districts in the region would be allotted an annual budget, and it was up to those districts how to best allocate those resources to meet, to the best of their abilities, the health-care needs of their population. He vividly recalled that a patient he cared for, an individual over 65 in need of renal replacement therapy for a reversible condition, who was not offered such therapy despite the clear benefit. There was a finite amount of resources, and those resources were thought to be better spent on public health measures like vaccination ... but that was on another continent and in another era, right?

I remember when I first heard of an outbreak of viral pneumonia in China in January of this year. As someone prone to anxiety, my first strategy was to put my head in the sand and wait it out. This strategy didn’t last very long – within a couple of weeks, there were confirmed cases in the United States. It was now apparent that this virus was not going to be contained. In an impressively short amount of time, SARS-CoV 2 has infected over 3.5 million individuals and killed almost a quarter million people worldwide. In the United States, we have seen almost 1.2 million cases and lost over 68 thousand lives. This pandemic has managed to devastate multiple countries, health care systems, and economies. It has also challenged every physician’s ideas of beneficence and justice ... but it’s just a virus, right?

Beneficence, the principle of medical ethics regarding acting in the patient’s best interest, had always seemed to me to be a no-brainer. Not like autonomy, which can get sticky, or justice, which I really had not had to consider much prior to 2020. Of course, I would always do what was best for my patient, I thought, why wouldn’t I?

Justice, the principle that deals with the distribution of scarce health-care resources, is the wrench that has been thrown into the beneficence works in the age of COVID-19. In a country and an era in which I had not dreamed we would ever have to think about how to support multiple people with one ventilator, we have had to do just that (“Joint Statement on Multiple Patients per Ventilator,” CHEST News, Mar 27, 2020). Things that I have taken for granted through all of my training are now worth their weight in gold—from sedative drips and inhalers down to videolaryngoscopy blades and face masks. I can’t just do what is best for my patient because sometimes what is best for my patient is not what is best for my next patient, what is best for my team, or even what is best for me and for my family. COVID-19 has reminded us of the uncomfortable truth that when contemplating justice, the patient in front of us is not the only person we have to consider.

Early on, before things in the United States had surged, I asked the twitter community what I thought would be a hypothetical question: “An employee needs to urgently help a COVID-19 patient. There is no appropriate PPE available due to shortage. What should happen?”

Like the idea of splitting ventilators, it was a thought I had never considered pre-COVID-19. Our instinct as physicians, especially as critical care physicians, is to intervene in emergency situations as quickly as possible. The extensive PPE required to manage COVID-19 patients has slowed that process, but, as many institutions are reaching the ends of their PPE stores, our safety is now placed at odds with that of our patient’s. To stay back violates what we feel is our duty to our patients, to go in violates our duty to ourselves, to our families, and to the rest of our patients. To care adequately for your patient is to put yourself at risk (and vice-versa), and this is a problem that I don’t think we have an answer for.

COVID-19 threatens many good and noble things, and what is worse, it directly puts them at odds with one another. They are paired sliding scales, where more of one means less of the other. If I have enough masks, it means my colleague probably doesn’t. If we have enough ventilators, it means another city doesn’t. If I get a break to be with my family, it means someone else is having to leave theirs to tend to patients who are sicker, lonelier, and more numerous than in any other time in recent memory.

And if these situations and resource limitations don’t provide enough moral injury for health-care workers, there are some specifics of humanity’s response to the pandemic that are exceptionally hurtful.

We as a country had notice, which was squandered. Instead of caution and preparation, we saw the powers that be make light of the serious situation most scientists and clinicians warned was coming. Instead of efforts to find or create PPE, we saw accusations against us of misuse and waste (“Trump comments about hospital mask thefts spark backlash from doctors,” Newsweek, March 30, 2020). Instead of support, we saw our altruism taken advantage of and used against us in unsafe and unfair situations. We have seen physicians in training and full-fledged attendings alike treated unfairly by their supervisors, instead of protected. Every instance of anti-science opinion or action from our friends and families that we once tolerated now feels like a personal affront, as these directly increase our risk and our immediate family’s risk of contracting the illness. We are being touted as heroes and angels, but really, we’re afraid—afraid of our patients, afraid of illness, afraid for our families, and afraid of jobs that we used to love. We don’t want to be praised; we just want to work our regular jobs safely and with adequate support.

I don’t know what health care looks like at the end of all of this. Relationships between physicians and health-care administrations were strained before the pandemic, to say the least. How can health-care workers just go back to business as usual, working for entities that were so ill-prepared, and, in many cases, calloused toward the concerns of their employees?

COVID-19 has revealed the fragility of our health-care system, our public health capabilities, and our economy. The pandemic has forced us to finally acknowledge something that has been true all along—our resources are finite, and tension exists between what is right and what is profitable, and between what is just and what is easy.

But it’s just a virus, right?
 

Dr. Fridenmaker is a Pulmonary and Critical Care Fellow at the University of Kentucky, Lexington.

My first exposure to the notion of scarce resources was in medical school. I had to discuss the ethical principles behind the allocation of organs for transplantation, specifically livers and the required abstinence from alcohol ... but this was just an exercise, right?

A few years later, during residency, I heard the anecdotes from one of my internal medicine attendings about the time he spent in Europe as a visiting geriatrics fellow in the 1970s. The health-care districts in the region would be allotted an annual budget, and it was up to those districts how to best allocate those resources to meet, to the best of their abilities, the health-care needs of their population. He vividly recalled that a patient he cared for, an individual over 65 in need of renal replacement therapy for a reversible condition, who was not offered such therapy despite the clear benefit. There was a finite amount of resources, and those resources were thought to be better spent on public health measures like vaccination ... but that was on another continent and in another era, right?

I remember when I first heard of an outbreak of viral pneumonia in China in January of this year. As someone prone to anxiety, my first strategy was to put my head in the sand and wait it out. This strategy didn’t last very long – within a couple of weeks, there were confirmed cases in the United States. It was now apparent that this virus was not going to be contained. In an impressively short amount of time, SARS-CoV 2 has infected over 3.5 million individuals and killed almost a quarter million people worldwide. In the United States, we have seen almost 1.2 million cases and lost over 68 thousand lives. This pandemic has managed to devastate multiple countries, health care systems, and economies. It has also challenged every physician’s ideas of beneficence and justice ... but it’s just a virus, right?

Beneficence, the principle of medical ethics regarding acting in the patient’s best interest, had always seemed to me to be a no-brainer. Not like autonomy, which can get sticky, or justice, which I really had not had to consider much prior to 2020. Of course, I would always do what was best for my patient, I thought, why wouldn’t I?

Justice, the principle that deals with the distribution of scarce health-care resources, is the wrench that has been thrown into the beneficence works in the age of COVID-19. In a country and an era in which I had not dreamed we would ever have to think about how to support multiple people with one ventilator, we have had to do just that (“Joint Statement on Multiple Patients per Ventilator,” CHEST News, Mar 27, 2020). Things that I have taken for granted through all of my training are now worth their weight in gold—from sedative drips and inhalers down to videolaryngoscopy blades and face masks. I can’t just do what is best for my patient because sometimes what is best for my patient is not what is best for my next patient, what is best for my team, or even what is best for me and for my family. COVID-19 has reminded us of the uncomfortable truth that when contemplating justice, the patient in front of us is not the only person we have to consider.

Early on, before things in the United States had surged, I asked the twitter community what I thought would be a hypothetical question: “An employee needs to urgently help a COVID-19 patient. There is no appropriate PPE available due to shortage. What should happen?”

Like the idea of splitting ventilators, it was a thought I had never considered pre-COVID-19. Our instinct as physicians, especially as critical care physicians, is to intervene in emergency situations as quickly as possible. The extensive PPE required to manage COVID-19 patients has slowed that process, but, as many institutions are reaching the ends of their PPE stores, our safety is now placed at odds with that of our patient’s. To stay back violates what we feel is our duty to our patients, to go in violates our duty to ourselves, to our families, and to the rest of our patients. To care adequately for your patient is to put yourself at risk (and vice-versa), and this is a problem that I don’t think we have an answer for.

COVID-19 threatens many good and noble things, and what is worse, it directly puts them at odds with one another. They are paired sliding scales, where more of one means less of the other. If I have enough masks, it means my colleague probably doesn’t. If we have enough ventilators, it means another city doesn’t. If I get a break to be with my family, it means someone else is having to leave theirs to tend to patients who are sicker, lonelier, and more numerous than in any other time in recent memory.

And if these situations and resource limitations don’t provide enough moral injury for health-care workers, there are some specifics of humanity’s response to the pandemic that are exceptionally hurtful.

We as a country had notice, which was squandered. Instead of caution and preparation, we saw the powers that be make light of the serious situation most scientists and clinicians warned was coming. Instead of efforts to find or create PPE, we saw accusations against us of misuse and waste (“Trump comments about hospital mask thefts spark backlash from doctors,” Newsweek, March 30, 2020). Instead of support, we saw our altruism taken advantage of and used against us in unsafe and unfair situations. We have seen physicians in training and full-fledged attendings alike treated unfairly by their supervisors, instead of protected. Every instance of anti-science opinion or action from our friends and families that we once tolerated now feels like a personal affront, as these directly increase our risk and our immediate family’s risk of contracting the illness. We are being touted as heroes and angels, but really, we’re afraid—afraid of our patients, afraid of illness, afraid for our families, and afraid of jobs that we used to love. We don’t want to be praised; we just want to work our regular jobs safely and with adequate support.

I don’t know what health care looks like at the end of all of this. Relationships between physicians and health-care administrations were strained before the pandemic, to say the least. How can health-care workers just go back to business as usual, working for entities that were so ill-prepared, and, in many cases, calloused toward the concerns of their employees?

COVID-19 has revealed the fragility of our health-care system, our public health capabilities, and our economy. The pandemic has forced us to finally acknowledge something that has been true all along—our resources are finite, and tension exists between what is right and what is profitable, and between what is just and what is easy.

But it’s just a virus, right?
 

Dr. Fridenmaker is a Pulmonary and Critical Care Fellow at the University of Kentucky, Lexington.

My first exposure to the notion of scarce resources was in medical school. I had to discuss the ethical principles behind the allocation of organs for transplantation, specifically livers and the required abstinence from alcohol ... but this was just an exercise, right?

A few years later, during residency, I heard the anecdotes from one of my internal medicine attendings about the time he spent in Europe as a visiting geriatrics fellow in the 1970s. The health-care districts in the region would be allotted an annual budget, and it was up to those districts how to best allocate those resources to meet, to the best of their abilities, the health-care needs of their population. He vividly recalled that a patient he cared for, an individual over 65 in need of renal replacement therapy for a reversible condition, who was not offered such therapy despite the clear benefit. There was a finite amount of resources, and those resources were thought to be better spent on public health measures like vaccination ... but that was on another continent and in another era, right?

I remember when I first heard of an outbreak of viral pneumonia in China in January of this year. As someone prone to anxiety, my first strategy was to put my head in the sand and wait it out. This strategy didn’t last very long – within a couple of weeks, there were confirmed cases in the United States. It was now apparent that this virus was not going to be contained. In an impressively short amount of time, SARS-CoV 2 has infected over 3.5 million individuals and killed almost a quarter million people worldwide. In the United States, we have seen almost 1.2 million cases and lost over 68 thousand lives. This pandemic has managed to devastate multiple countries, health care systems, and economies. It has also challenged every physician’s ideas of beneficence and justice ... but it’s just a virus, right?

Beneficence, the principle of medical ethics regarding acting in the patient’s best interest, had always seemed to me to be a no-brainer. Not like autonomy, which can get sticky, or justice, which I really had not had to consider much prior to 2020. Of course, I would always do what was best for my patient, I thought, why wouldn’t I?

Justice, the principle that deals with the distribution of scarce health-care resources, is the wrench that has been thrown into the beneficence works in the age of COVID-19. In a country and an era in which I had not dreamed we would ever have to think about how to support multiple people with one ventilator, we have had to do just that (“Joint Statement on Multiple Patients per Ventilator,” CHEST News, Mar 27, 2020). Things that I have taken for granted through all of my training are now worth their weight in gold—from sedative drips and inhalers down to videolaryngoscopy blades and face masks. I can’t just do what is best for my patient because sometimes what is best for my patient is not what is best for my next patient, what is best for my team, or even what is best for me and for my family. COVID-19 has reminded us of the uncomfortable truth that when contemplating justice, the patient in front of us is not the only person we have to consider.

Early on, before things in the United States had surged, I asked the twitter community what I thought would be a hypothetical question: “An employee needs to urgently help a COVID-19 patient. There is no appropriate PPE available due to shortage. What should happen?”

Like the idea of splitting ventilators, it was a thought I had never considered pre-COVID-19. Our instinct as physicians, especially as critical care physicians, is to intervene in emergency situations as quickly as possible. The extensive PPE required to manage COVID-19 patients has slowed that process, but, as many institutions are reaching the ends of their PPE stores, our safety is now placed at odds with that of our patient’s. To stay back violates what we feel is our duty to our patients, to go in violates our duty to ourselves, to our families, and to the rest of our patients. To care adequately for your patient is to put yourself at risk (and vice-versa), and this is a problem that I don’t think we have an answer for.

COVID-19 threatens many good and noble things, and what is worse, it directly puts them at odds with one another. They are paired sliding scales, where more of one means less of the other. If I have enough masks, it means my colleague probably doesn’t. If we have enough ventilators, it means another city doesn’t. If I get a break to be with my family, it means someone else is having to leave theirs to tend to patients who are sicker, lonelier, and more numerous than in any other time in recent memory.

And if these situations and resource limitations don’t provide enough moral injury for health-care workers, there are some specifics of humanity’s response to the pandemic that are exceptionally hurtful.

We as a country had notice, which was squandered. Instead of caution and preparation, we saw the powers that be make light of the serious situation most scientists and clinicians warned was coming. Instead of efforts to find or create PPE, we saw accusations against us of misuse and waste (“Trump comments about hospital mask thefts spark backlash from doctors,” Newsweek, March 30, 2020). Instead of support, we saw our altruism taken advantage of and used against us in unsafe and unfair situations. We have seen physicians in training and full-fledged attendings alike treated unfairly by their supervisors, instead of protected. Every instance of anti-science opinion or action from our friends and families that we once tolerated now feels like a personal affront, as these directly increase our risk and our immediate family’s risk of contracting the illness. We are being touted as heroes and angels, but really, we’re afraid—afraid of our patients, afraid of illness, afraid for our families, and afraid of jobs that we used to love. We don’t want to be praised; we just want to work our regular jobs safely and with adequate support.

I don’t know what health care looks like at the end of all of this. Relationships between physicians and health-care administrations were strained before the pandemic, to say the least. How can health-care workers just go back to business as usual, working for entities that were so ill-prepared, and, in many cases, calloused toward the concerns of their employees?

COVID-19 has revealed the fragility of our health-care system, our public health capabilities, and our economy. The pandemic has forced us to finally acknowledge something that has been true all along—our resources are finite, and tension exists between what is right and what is profitable, and between what is just and what is easy.

But it’s just a virus, right?
 

Dr. Fridenmaker is a Pulmonary and Critical Care Fellow at the University of Kentucky, Lexington.

The Food and Drug Administration has approved Recarbrio (imipenem-cilastatin and relebactam) for the treatment of hospital-acquired and ventilator-associated bacterial pneumonia in people aged 18 years and older.

Approval for Recarbrio was based on results of a randomized, controlled clinical trial of 535 hospitalized adults with hospital-acquired and ventilator-associated bacterial pneumonia who received either Recarbrio or piperacillin-tazobactam. After 28 days, 16% of patients who received Recarbrio and 21% of patients who received piperacillin-tazobactam had died.

The most common adverse events associated with Recarbrio are increased alanine aminotransferase/ aspartate aminotransferase, anemia, diarrhea, hypokalemia, and hyponatremia. Recarbrio was previously approved by the FDA to treat patients with complicated urinary tract infections and complicated intra-abdominal infections who have limited or no alternative treatment options, according to an FDA press release.

“As a public health agency, the FDA addresses the threat of antimicrobial-resistant infections by facilitating the development of safe and effective new treatments. These efforts provide more options to fight serious bacterial infections and get new, safe and effective therapies to patients as soon as possible,” said Sumathi Nambiar, MD, MPH, director of the division of anti-infectives within the office of infectious disease at the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research.

[email protected]

The Food and Drug Administration has approved Recarbrio (imipenem-cilastatin and relebactam) for the treatment of hospital-acquired and ventilator-associated bacterial pneumonia in people aged 18 years and older.

Approval for Recarbrio was based on results of a randomized, controlled clinical trial of 535 hospitalized adults with hospital-acquired and ventilator-associated bacterial pneumonia who received either Recarbrio or piperacillin-tazobactam. After 28 days, 16% of patients who received Recarbrio and 21% of patients who received piperacillin-tazobactam had died.

The most common adverse events associated with Recarbrio are increased alanine aminotransferase/ aspartate aminotransferase, anemia, diarrhea, hypokalemia, and hyponatremia. Recarbrio was previously approved by the FDA to treat patients with complicated urinary tract infections and complicated intra-abdominal infections who have limited or no alternative treatment options, according to an FDA press release.

“As a public health agency, the FDA addresses the threat of antimicrobial-resistant infections by facilitating the development of safe and effective new treatments. These efforts provide more options to fight serious bacterial infections and get new, safe and effective therapies to patients as soon as possible,” said Sumathi Nambiar, MD, MPH, director of the division of anti-infectives within the office of infectious disease at the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research.

[email protected]

The Food and Drug Administration has approved Recarbrio (imipenem-cilastatin and relebactam) for the treatment of hospital-acquired and ventilator-associated bacterial pneumonia in people aged 18 years and older.

Approval for Recarbrio was based on results of a randomized, controlled clinical trial of 535 hospitalized adults with hospital-acquired and ventilator-associated bacterial pneumonia who received either Recarbrio or piperacillin-tazobactam. After 28 days, 16% of patients who received Recarbrio and 21% of patients who received piperacillin-tazobactam had died.

The most common adverse events associated with Recarbrio are increased alanine aminotransferase/ aspartate aminotransferase, anemia, diarrhea, hypokalemia, and hyponatremia. Recarbrio was previously approved by the FDA to treat patients with complicated urinary tract infections and complicated intra-abdominal infections who have limited or no alternative treatment options, according to an FDA press release.

“As a public health agency, the FDA addresses the threat of antimicrobial-resistant infections by facilitating the development of safe and effective new treatments. These efforts provide more options to fight serious bacterial infections and get new, safe and effective therapies to patients as soon as possible,” said Sumathi Nambiar, MD, MPH, director of the division of anti-infectives within the office of infectious disease at the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research.

[email protected]