Practice Management

From Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital at NYU Langone Health, New York, NY (Dr Gallagher), T1D Exchange, Boston, MA (Saketh Rompicherla; Drs Ebekozien, Noor, Odugbesan, and Mungmode; Nicole Rioles, Emma Ospelt), University of Mississippi School of Population Health, Jackson, MS (Dr. Ebekozien), Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, New York, NY (Drs. Wilkes, O’Malley, and Rapaport), Weill Cornell Medicine, New York, NY (Drs. Antal and Feuer), NYU Long Island School of Medicine, Mineola, NY (Dr. Gabriel), NYU Langone Health, New York, NY (Dr. Golden), Barbara Davis Center, Aurora, CO (Dr. Alonso), Texas Children’s Hospital/Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, TX (Dr. Lyons), Stanford University, Stanford, CA (Dr. Prahalad), Children Mercy Kansas City, MO (Dr. Clements), Indiana University School of Medicine, IN (Dr. Neyman), Rady Children’s Hospital, University of California, San Diego, CA (Dr. Demeterco-Berggren).

Background: Patient outcomes of COVID-19 have improved throughout the pandemic. However, because it is not known whether outcomes of COVID-19 in the type 1 diabetes (T1D) population improved over time, we investigated differences in COVID-19 outcomes for patients with T1D in the United States.

Methods: We analyzed data collected via a registry of patients with T1D and COVID-19 from 56 sites between April 2020 and January 2021. We grouped cases into first surge (April 9, 2020, to July 31, 2020, n = 188) and late surge (August 1, 2020, to January 31, 2021, n = 410), and then compared outcomes between both groups using descriptive statistics and logistic regression models.

Results: Adverse outcomes were more frequent during the first surge, including diabetic ketoacidosis (32% vs 15%, P < .001), severe hypoglycemia (4% vs 1%, P = .04), and hospitalization (52% vs 22%, P < .001). Patients in the first surge were older (28 [SD,18.8] years vs 18.0 [SD, 11.1] years, P < .001), had higher median hemoglobin A1c levels (9.3 [interquartile range {IQR}, 4.0] vs 8.4 (IQR, 2.8), P < .001), and were more likely to use public insurance (107 [57%] vs 154 [38%], P < .001). The odds of hospitalization for adults in the first surge were 5 times higher compared to the late surge (odds ratio, 5.01; 95% CI, 2.11-12.63).

Conclusion: Patients with T1D who presented with COVID-19 during the first surge had a higher proportion of adverse outcomes than those who presented in a later surge.

Keywords: TD1, diabetic ketoacidosis, hypoglycemia.

After the World Health Organization declared the disease caused by the novel coronavirus SARS-CoV-2, COVID-19, a pandemic on March 11, 2020, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention identified patients with diabetes as high risk for severe illness.^1-7 The case-fatality rate for COVID-19 has significantly improved over the past 2 years. Public health measures, less severe COVID-19 variants, increased access to testing, and new treatments for COVID-19 have contributed to improved outcomes.

The T1D Exchange has previously published findings on COVID-19 outcomes for patients with type 1 diabetes (T1D) using data from the T1D COVID-19 Surveillance Registry.^8-12 Given improved outcomes in COVID-19 in the general population, we sought to determine if outcomes for cases of COVID-19 reported to this registry changed over time.

Methods

This study was coordinated by the T1D Exchange and approved as nonhuman subject research by the Western Institutional Review Board. All participating centers also obtained local institutional review board approval. No identifiable patient information was collected as part of this noninterventional, cross-sectional study.

The T1D Exchange Multi-center COVID-19 Surveillance Study collected data from endocrinology clinics that completed a retrospective chart review and submitted information to T1D Exchange via an online questionnaire for all patients with T1D at their sites who tested positive for COVID-19.^13,14 The questionnaire was administered using the Qualtrics survey platform (www.qualtrics.com version XM) and contained 33 pre-coded and free-text response fields to collect patient and clinical attributes.

Each participating center identified 1 team member for reporting to avoid duplicate case submission. Each submitted case was reviewed for potential errors and incomplete information. The coordinating center verified the number of cases per site for data quality assurance.

Quantitative data were represented as mean (standard deviation) or median (interquartile range). Categorical data were described as the number (percentage) of patients. Summary statistics, including frequency and percentage for categorical variables, were calculated for all patient-related and clinical characteristics. The date August 1, 2021, was selected as the end of the first surge based on a review of national COVID-19 surges.

We used the Fisher’s exact test to assess associations between hospitalization and demographics, HbA1c, diabetes duration, symptoms, and adverse outcomes. In addition, multivariate logistic regression was used to calculate odds ratios (OR). Logistic regression models were used to determine the association between time of surge and hospitalization separately for both the pediatric and adult populations. Each model was adjusted for potential sociodemographic confounders, specifically age, sex, race, insurance, and HbA1c.

All tests were 2-sided, with type 1 error set at 5%. Fisher’s exact test and logistic regression were performed using statistical software R, version 3.6.2 (R Foundation for Statistical Computing).

Results

The characteristics of COVID-19 cases in patients with T1D that were reported early in the pandemic, before August 1, 2020 (first surge), compared with those of cases reported on and after August 1, 2020 (later surges) are shown in Table 1.

Patients with T1D who presented with COVID-19 during the first surge as compared to the later surges were older (mean age 28 [SD, 18.0] years vs 18.8 [SD, 11.1] years; P < .001) and had a longer duration of diabetes (P < .001). The first-surge group also had more patients with >20 years’ diabetes duration (20% vs 9%, P < .001). Obesity, hypertension, and chronic kidney disease were also more commonly reported in first-surge cases (all P < .001).

There was a significant difference in race and ethnicity reported in the first surge vs the later surge cases, with fewer patients identifying as non-Hispanic White (39% vs, 63%, P < .001) and more patients identifying as non-Hispanic Black (29% vs 12%, P < .001). The groups also differed significantly in terms of insurance type, with more people on public insurance in the first-surge group (57% vs 38%, P < .001). In addition, median HbA1c was higher (9.3% vs 8.4%, P < .001) and continuous glucose monitor and insulin pump use were less common (P = .02 and <.001, respectively) in the early surge.

All symptoms and adverse outcomes were reported more often in the first surge, including diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA; 32% vs 15%; P < .001) and severe hypoglycemia (4% vs 1%, P = .04). Hospitalization (52% vs 13%, P < .001) and ICU admission (24% vs 9%, P < .001) were reported more often in the first-surge group.

Regression Analyses

Table 2 shows the results of logistic regression analyses for hospitalization in the pediatric (≤19 years of age) and adult (>19 years of age) groups, along with the odds of hospitalization during the first vs late surge among COVID-positive people with T1D. Adult patients who tested positive in the first surge were about 5 times more likely to be hospitalized than adults who tested positive for infection in the late surge after adjusting for age, insurance type, sex, race, and HbA1c levels. Pediatric patients also had an increased odds for hospitalization during the first surge, but this increase was not statistically significant.

Discussion

Our analysis of COVID-19 cases in patients with T1D reported by diabetes providers across the United States found that adverse outcomes were more prevalent early in the pandemic. There may be a number of reasons for this difference in outcomes between patients who presented in the first surge vs a later surge. First, because testing for COVID-19 was extremely limited and reserved for hospitalized patients early in the pandemic, the first-surge patients with confirmed COVID-19 likely represent a skewed population of higher-acuity patients. This may also explain the relative paucity of cases in younger patients reported early in the pandemic. Second, worse outcomes in the early surge may also have been associated with overwhelmed hospitals in New York City at the start of the outbreak. According to Cummings et al, the abrupt surge of critically ill patients hospitalized with severe acute respiratory distress syndrome initially outpaced their capacity to provide prone-positioning ventilation, which has been expanded since then.¹⁵ While there was very little hypertension, cardiovascular disease, or kidney disease reported in the pediatric groups, there was a higher prevalence of obesity in the pediatric group from the mid-Atlantic region. Obesity has been associated with a worse prognosis for COVID-19 illness in children.¹⁶ Finally, there were 5 deaths reported in this study, all of which were reported during the first surge. Older age and increased rates of cardiovascular disease and chronic kidney disease in the first surge cases likely contributed to worse outcomes for adults in mid-Atlantic region relative to the other regions. Minority race and the use of public insurance, risk factors for more severe outcomes in all regions, were also more common in cases reported from the mid-Atlantic region.

This study has several limitations. First, it is a cross-sectional study that relies upon voluntary provider reports. Second, availability of COVID-19 testing was limited in all regions in spring 2020. Third, different regions of the country experienced subsequent surges at different times within the reported timeframes in this analysis. Fourth, this report time period does not include the impact of the newer COVID-19 variants. Finally, trends in COVID-19 outcomes were affected by the evolution of care that developed throughout 2020.

Conclusion

Adult patients with T1D and COVID-19 who reported during the first surge had about 5 times higher hospitalization odds than those who presented in a later surge.

Corresponding author: Osagie Ebekozien, MD, MPH, 11 Avenue de Lafayette, Boston, MA 02111; [email protected]

Disclosures: Dr Ebekozien reports receiving research grants from Medtronic Diabetes, Eli Lilly, and Dexcom, and receiving honoraria from Medtronic Diabetes.

From Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital at NYU Langone Health, New York, NY (Dr Gallagher), T1D Exchange, Boston, MA (Saketh Rompicherla; Drs Ebekozien, Noor, Odugbesan, and Mungmode; Nicole Rioles, Emma Ospelt), University of Mississippi School of Population Health, Jackson, MS (Dr. Ebekozien), Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, New York, NY (Drs. Wilkes, O’Malley, and Rapaport), Weill Cornell Medicine, New York, NY (Drs. Antal and Feuer), NYU Long Island School of Medicine, Mineola, NY (Dr. Gabriel), NYU Langone Health, New York, NY (Dr. Golden), Barbara Davis Center, Aurora, CO (Dr. Alonso), Texas Children’s Hospital/Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, TX (Dr. Lyons), Stanford University, Stanford, CA (Dr. Prahalad), Children Mercy Kansas City, MO (Dr. Clements), Indiana University School of Medicine, IN (Dr. Neyman), Rady Children’s Hospital, University of California, San Diego, CA (Dr. Demeterco-Berggren).

Background: Patient outcomes of COVID-19 have improved throughout the pandemic. However, because it is not known whether outcomes of COVID-19 in the type 1 diabetes (T1D) population improved over time, we investigated differences in COVID-19 outcomes for patients with T1D in the United States.

Methods: We analyzed data collected via a registry of patients with T1D and COVID-19 from 56 sites between April 2020 and January 2021. We grouped cases into first surge (April 9, 2020, to July 31, 2020, n = 188) and late surge (August 1, 2020, to January 31, 2021, n = 410), and then compared outcomes between both groups using descriptive statistics and logistic regression models.

Results: Adverse outcomes were more frequent during the first surge, including diabetic ketoacidosis (32% vs 15%, P < .001), severe hypoglycemia (4% vs 1%, P = .04), and hospitalization (52% vs 22%, P < .001). Patients in the first surge were older (28 [SD,18.8] years vs 18.0 [SD, 11.1] years, P < .001), had higher median hemoglobin A1c levels (9.3 [interquartile range {IQR}, 4.0] vs 8.4 (IQR, 2.8), P < .001), and were more likely to use public insurance (107 [57%] vs 154 [38%], P < .001). The odds of hospitalization for adults in the first surge were 5 times higher compared to the late surge (odds ratio, 5.01; 95% CI, 2.11-12.63).

Conclusion: Patients with T1D who presented with COVID-19 during the first surge had a higher proportion of adverse outcomes than those who presented in a later surge.

Keywords: TD1, diabetic ketoacidosis, hypoglycemia.

After the World Health Organization declared the disease caused by the novel coronavirus SARS-CoV-2, COVID-19, a pandemic on March 11, 2020, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention identified patients with diabetes as high risk for severe illness.^1-7 The case-fatality rate for COVID-19 has significantly improved over the past 2 years. Public health measures, less severe COVID-19 variants, increased access to testing, and new treatments for COVID-19 have contributed to improved outcomes.

The T1D Exchange has previously published findings on COVID-19 outcomes for patients with type 1 diabetes (T1D) using data from the T1D COVID-19 Surveillance Registry.^8-12 Given improved outcomes in COVID-19 in the general population, we sought to determine if outcomes for cases of COVID-19 reported to this registry changed over time.

Methods

This study was coordinated by the T1D Exchange and approved as nonhuman subject research by the Western Institutional Review Board. All participating centers also obtained local institutional review board approval. No identifiable patient information was collected as part of this noninterventional, cross-sectional study.

The T1D Exchange Multi-center COVID-19 Surveillance Study collected data from endocrinology clinics that completed a retrospective chart review and submitted information to T1D Exchange via an online questionnaire for all patients with T1D at their sites who tested positive for COVID-19.^13,14 The questionnaire was administered using the Qualtrics survey platform (www.qualtrics.com version XM) and contained 33 pre-coded and free-text response fields to collect patient and clinical attributes.

Each participating center identified 1 team member for reporting to avoid duplicate case submission. Each submitted case was reviewed for potential errors and incomplete information. The coordinating center verified the number of cases per site for data quality assurance.

Quantitative data were represented as mean (standard deviation) or median (interquartile range). Categorical data were described as the number (percentage) of patients. Summary statistics, including frequency and percentage for categorical variables, were calculated for all patient-related and clinical characteristics. The date August 1, 2021, was selected as the end of the first surge based on a review of national COVID-19 surges.

We used the Fisher’s exact test to assess associations between hospitalization and demographics, HbA1c, diabetes duration, symptoms, and adverse outcomes. In addition, multivariate logistic regression was used to calculate odds ratios (OR). Logistic regression models were used to determine the association between time of surge and hospitalization separately for both the pediatric and adult populations. Each model was adjusted for potential sociodemographic confounders, specifically age, sex, race, insurance, and HbA1c.

All tests were 2-sided, with type 1 error set at 5%. Fisher’s exact test and logistic regression were performed using statistical software R, version 3.6.2 (R Foundation for Statistical Computing).

Results

The characteristics of COVID-19 cases in patients with T1D that were reported early in the pandemic, before August 1, 2020 (first surge), compared with those of cases reported on and after August 1, 2020 (later surges) are shown in Table 1.

Patients with T1D who presented with COVID-19 during the first surge as compared to the later surges were older (mean age 28 [SD, 18.0] years vs 18.8 [SD, 11.1] years; P < .001) and had a longer duration of diabetes (P < .001). The first-surge group also had more patients with >20 years’ diabetes duration (20% vs 9%, P < .001). Obesity, hypertension, and chronic kidney disease were also more commonly reported in first-surge cases (all P < .001).

There was a significant difference in race and ethnicity reported in the first surge vs the later surge cases, with fewer patients identifying as non-Hispanic White (39% vs, 63%, P < .001) and more patients identifying as non-Hispanic Black (29% vs 12%, P < .001). The groups also differed significantly in terms of insurance type, with more people on public insurance in the first-surge group (57% vs 38%, P < .001). In addition, median HbA1c was higher (9.3% vs 8.4%, P < .001) and continuous glucose monitor and insulin pump use were less common (P = .02 and <.001, respectively) in the early surge.

All symptoms and adverse outcomes were reported more often in the first surge, including diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA; 32% vs 15%; P < .001) and severe hypoglycemia (4% vs 1%, P = .04). Hospitalization (52% vs 13%, P < .001) and ICU admission (24% vs 9%, P < .001) were reported more often in the first-surge group.

Regression Analyses

Table 2 shows the results of logistic regression analyses for hospitalization in the pediatric (≤19 years of age) and adult (>19 years of age) groups, along with the odds of hospitalization during the first vs late surge among COVID-positive people with T1D. Adult patients who tested positive in the first surge were about 5 times more likely to be hospitalized than adults who tested positive for infection in the late surge after adjusting for age, insurance type, sex, race, and HbA1c levels. Pediatric patients also had an increased odds for hospitalization during the first surge, but this increase was not statistically significant.

Discussion

Our analysis of COVID-19 cases in patients with T1D reported by diabetes providers across the United States found that adverse outcomes were more prevalent early in the pandemic. There may be a number of reasons for this difference in outcomes between patients who presented in the first surge vs a later surge. First, because testing for COVID-19 was extremely limited and reserved for hospitalized patients early in the pandemic, the first-surge patients with confirmed COVID-19 likely represent a skewed population of higher-acuity patients. This may also explain the relative paucity of cases in younger patients reported early in the pandemic. Second, worse outcomes in the early surge may also have been associated with overwhelmed hospitals in New York City at the start of the outbreak. According to Cummings et al, the abrupt surge of critically ill patients hospitalized with severe acute respiratory distress syndrome initially outpaced their capacity to provide prone-positioning ventilation, which has been expanded since then.¹⁵ While there was very little hypertension, cardiovascular disease, or kidney disease reported in the pediatric groups, there was a higher prevalence of obesity in the pediatric group from the mid-Atlantic region. Obesity has been associated with a worse prognosis for COVID-19 illness in children.¹⁶ Finally, there were 5 deaths reported in this study, all of which were reported during the first surge. Older age and increased rates of cardiovascular disease and chronic kidney disease in the first surge cases likely contributed to worse outcomes for adults in mid-Atlantic region relative to the other regions. Minority race and the use of public insurance, risk factors for more severe outcomes in all regions, were also more common in cases reported from the mid-Atlantic region.

This study has several limitations. First, it is a cross-sectional study that relies upon voluntary provider reports. Second, availability of COVID-19 testing was limited in all regions in spring 2020. Third, different regions of the country experienced subsequent surges at different times within the reported timeframes in this analysis. Fourth, this report time period does not include the impact of the newer COVID-19 variants. Finally, trends in COVID-19 outcomes were affected by the evolution of care that developed throughout 2020.

Conclusion

Adult patients with T1D and COVID-19 who reported during the first surge had about 5 times higher hospitalization odds than those who presented in a later surge.

Corresponding author: Osagie Ebekozien, MD, MPH, 11 Avenue de Lafayette, Boston, MA 02111; [email protected]

Disclosures: Dr Ebekozien reports receiving research grants from Medtronic Diabetes, Eli Lilly, and Dexcom, and receiving honoraria from Medtronic Diabetes.

From Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital at NYU Langone Health, New York, NY (Dr Gallagher), T1D Exchange, Boston, MA (Saketh Rompicherla; Drs Ebekozien, Noor, Odugbesan, and Mungmode; Nicole Rioles, Emma Ospelt), University of Mississippi School of Population Health, Jackson, MS (Dr. Ebekozien), Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, New York, NY (Drs. Wilkes, O’Malley, and Rapaport), Weill Cornell Medicine, New York, NY (Drs. Antal and Feuer), NYU Long Island School of Medicine, Mineola, NY (Dr. Gabriel), NYU Langone Health, New York, NY (Dr. Golden), Barbara Davis Center, Aurora, CO (Dr. Alonso), Texas Children’s Hospital/Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, TX (Dr. Lyons), Stanford University, Stanford, CA (Dr. Prahalad), Children Mercy Kansas City, MO (Dr. Clements), Indiana University School of Medicine, IN (Dr. Neyman), Rady Children’s Hospital, University of California, San Diego, CA (Dr. Demeterco-Berggren).

Background: Patient outcomes of COVID-19 have improved throughout the pandemic. However, because it is not known whether outcomes of COVID-19 in the type 1 diabetes (T1D) population improved over time, we investigated differences in COVID-19 outcomes for patients with T1D in the United States.

Methods: We analyzed data collected via a registry of patients with T1D and COVID-19 from 56 sites between April 2020 and January 2021. We grouped cases into first surge (April 9, 2020, to July 31, 2020, n = 188) and late surge (August 1, 2020, to January 31, 2021, n = 410), and then compared outcomes between both groups using descriptive statistics and logistic regression models.

Results: Adverse outcomes were more frequent during the first surge, including diabetic ketoacidosis (32% vs 15%, P < .001), severe hypoglycemia (4% vs 1%, P = .04), and hospitalization (52% vs 22%, P < .001). Patients in the first surge were older (28 [SD,18.8] years vs 18.0 [SD, 11.1] years, P < .001), had higher median hemoglobin A1c levels (9.3 [interquartile range {IQR}, 4.0] vs 8.4 (IQR, 2.8), P < .001), and were more likely to use public insurance (107 [57%] vs 154 [38%], P < .001). The odds of hospitalization for adults in the first surge were 5 times higher compared to the late surge (odds ratio, 5.01; 95% CI, 2.11-12.63).

Conclusion: Patients with T1D who presented with COVID-19 during the first surge had a higher proportion of adverse outcomes than those who presented in a later surge.

Keywords: TD1, diabetic ketoacidosis, hypoglycemia.

After the World Health Organization declared the disease caused by the novel coronavirus SARS-CoV-2, COVID-19, a pandemic on March 11, 2020, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention identified patients with diabetes as high risk for severe illness.^1-7 The case-fatality rate for COVID-19 has significantly improved over the past 2 years. Public health measures, less severe COVID-19 variants, increased access to testing, and new treatments for COVID-19 have contributed to improved outcomes.

The T1D Exchange has previously published findings on COVID-19 outcomes for patients with type 1 diabetes (T1D) using data from the T1D COVID-19 Surveillance Registry.^8-12 Given improved outcomes in COVID-19 in the general population, we sought to determine if outcomes for cases of COVID-19 reported to this registry changed over time.

Methods

This study was coordinated by the T1D Exchange and approved as nonhuman subject research by the Western Institutional Review Board. All participating centers also obtained local institutional review board approval. No identifiable patient information was collected as part of this noninterventional, cross-sectional study.

The T1D Exchange Multi-center COVID-19 Surveillance Study collected data from endocrinology clinics that completed a retrospective chart review and submitted information to T1D Exchange via an online questionnaire for all patients with T1D at their sites who tested positive for COVID-19.^13,14 The questionnaire was administered using the Qualtrics survey platform (www.qualtrics.com version XM) and contained 33 pre-coded and free-text response fields to collect patient and clinical attributes.

Each participating center identified 1 team member for reporting to avoid duplicate case submission. Each submitted case was reviewed for potential errors and incomplete information. The coordinating center verified the number of cases per site for data quality assurance.

Quantitative data were represented as mean (standard deviation) or median (interquartile range). Categorical data were described as the number (percentage) of patients. Summary statistics, including frequency and percentage for categorical variables, were calculated for all patient-related and clinical characteristics. The date August 1, 2021, was selected as the end of the first surge based on a review of national COVID-19 surges.

We used the Fisher’s exact test to assess associations between hospitalization and demographics, HbA1c, diabetes duration, symptoms, and adverse outcomes. In addition, multivariate logistic regression was used to calculate odds ratios (OR). Logistic regression models were used to determine the association between time of surge and hospitalization separately for both the pediatric and adult populations. Each model was adjusted for potential sociodemographic confounders, specifically age, sex, race, insurance, and HbA1c.

All tests were 2-sided, with type 1 error set at 5%. Fisher’s exact test and logistic regression were performed using statistical software R, version 3.6.2 (R Foundation for Statistical Computing).

Results

The characteristics of COVID-19 cases in patients with T1D that were reported early in the pandemic, before August 1, 2020 (first surge), compared with those of cases reported on and after August 1, 2020 (later surges) are shown in Table 1.

Patients with T1D who presented with COVID-19 during the first surge as compared to the later surges were older (mean age 28 [SD, 18.0] years vs 18.8 [SD, 11.1] years; P < .001) and had a longer duration of diabetes (P < .001). The first-surge group also had more patients with >20 years’ diabetes duration (20% vs 9%, P < .001). Obesity, hypertension, and chronic kidney disease were also more commonly reported in first-surge cases (all P < .001).

There was a significant difference in race and ethnicity reported in the first surge vs the later surge cases, with fewer patients identifying as non-Hispanic White (39% vs, 63%, P < .001) and more patients identifying as non-Hispanic Black (29% vs 12%, P < .001). The groups also differed significantly in terms of insurance type, with more people on public insurance in the first-surge group (57% vs 38%, P < .001). In addition, median HbA1c was higher (9.3% vs 8.4%, P < .001) and continuous glucose monitor and insulin pump use were less common (P = .02 and <.001, respectively) in the early surge.

All symptoms and adverse outcomes were reported more often in the first surge, including diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA; 32% vs 15%; P < .001) and severe hypoglycemia (4% vs 1%, P = .04). Hospitalization (52% vs 13%, P < .001) and ICU admission (24% vs 9%, P < .001) were reported more often in the first-surge group.

Regression Analyses

Table 2 shows the results of logistic regression analyses for hospitalization in the pediatric (≤19 years of age) and adult (>19 years of age) groups, along with the odds of hospitalization during the first vs late surge among COVID-positive people with T1D. Adult patients who tested positive in the first surge were about 5 times more likely to be hospitalized than adults who tested positive for infection in the late surge after adjusting for age, insurance type, sex, race, and HbA1c levels. Pediatric patients also had an increased odds for hospitalization during the first surge, but this increase was not statistically significant.

Discussion

Our analysis of COVID-19 cases in patients with T1D reported by diabetes providers across the United States found that adverse outcomes were more prevalent early in the pandemic. There may be a number of reasons for this difference in outcomes between patients who presented in the first surge vs a later surge. First, because testing for COVID-19 was extremely limited and reserved for hospitalized patients early in the pandemic, the first-surge patients with confirmed COVID-19 likely represent a skewed population of higher-acuity patients. This may also explain the relative paucity of cases in younger patients reported early in the pandemic. Second, worse outcomes in the early surge may also have been associated with overwhelmed hospitals in New York City at the start of the outbreak. According to Cummings et al, the abrupt surge of critically ill patients hospitalized with severe acute respiratory distress syndrome initially outpaced their capacity to provide prone-positioning ventilation, which has been expanded since then.¹⁵ While there was very little hypertension, cardiovascular disease, or kidney disease reported in the pediatric groups, there was a higher prevalence of obesity in the pediatric group from the mid-Atlantic region. Obesity has been associated with a worse prognosis for COVID-19 illness in children.¹⁶ Finally, there were 5 deaths reported in this study, all of which were reported during the first surge. Older age and increased rates of cardiovascular disease and chronic kidney disease in the first surge cases likely contributed to worse outcomes for adults in mid-Atlantic region relative to the other regions. Minority race and the use of public insurance, risk factors for more severe outcomes in all regions, were also more common in cases reported from the mid-Atlantic region.

This study has several limitations. First, it is a cross-sectional study that relies upon voluntary provider reports. Second, availability of COVID-19 testing was limited in all regions in spring 2020. Third, different regions of the country experienced subsequent surges at different times within the reported timeframes in this analysis. Fourth, this report time period does not include the impact of the newer COVID-19 variants. Finally, trends in COVID-19 outcomes were affected by the evolution of care that developed throughout 2020.

Conclusion

Adult patients with T1D and COVID-19 who reported during the first surge had about 5 times higher hospitalization odds than those who presented in a later surge.

Corresponding author: Osagie Ebekozien, MD, MPH, 11 Avenue de Lafayette, Boston, MA 02111; [email protected]

Disclosures: Dr Ebekozien reports receiving research grants from Medtronic Diabetes, Eli Lilly, and Dexcom, and receiving honoraria from Medtronic Diabetes.

From the Department of Emergency Medicine, Santa Croce e Carle Hospital, Cuneo, Italy (Drs. Abram, Tosello, Emanuele Bernardi, Allione, Cavalot, Dutto, Corsini, Martini, Sciolla, Sara Bernardi, and Lauria). From the School of Emergency Medicine, University of Turin, Turin, Italy (Drs. Paglietta and Giamello).

Objective: This retrospective and prospective cohort study was designed to describe the characteristics, treatments, and outcomes of patients with SARS-CoV-2 infection (COVID-19) admitted to subintensive care units (SICU) and to identify the variables associated with outcomes. SICUs have been extremely stressed during the pandemic, but most data regarding critically ill COVID-19 patients come from intensive care units (ICUs). Studies about COVID-19 patients in SICUs are lacking.

Setting and participants: The study included 88 COVID-19 patients admitted to our SICU in Cuneo, Italy, between March and May 2020.

Measurements: Clinical and ventilatory data were collected, and patients were divided by outcome. Multivariable logistic regression analysis examined the variables associated with negative outcomes (transfer to the ICU, palliation, or death in a SICU).

Results: A total of 60 patients (68%) had a positive outcome, and 28 patients (32%) had a negative outcome; 69 patients (78%) underwent continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP). Pronation (n = 37 [42%]) had been more frequently adopted in patients who had a positive outcome vs a negative outcome (n = 30 [50%] vs n = 7 [25%]; P = .048), and the median (interquartile range) Pao₂/Fio₂ ratio after 6 hours of prone positioning was lower in patients who had a negative outcome vs a positive outcome (144 [140-168] vs 249 [195-268], P = .006). Independent predictors of a negative outcome were diabetes (odds ratio [OR], 8.22; 95% CI, 1.50-44.70; P = .015), higher D-dimer (OR, 1.28; 95% CI, 1.04-1.57; P = .019), higher lactate dehydrogenase level (OR, 1.003; 95% CI, 1.000-1.006; P = .039), and lower lymphocytes count (OR, 0.996; 95% CI, 0.993-0.999; P = .004).

Conclusion: SICUs have a fundamental role in the treatment of critically ill patients with COVID-19, who require long-term CPAP and pronation cycles. Diabetes, lymphopenia, and high D-dimer and LDH levels are associated with negative outcomes.

Keywords: emergency medicine, noninvasive ventilation, prone position, continuous positive airway pressure.

The COVID-19 pandemic has led to large increases in hospital admissions. Subintensive care units (SICUs) are among the wards most under pressure worldwide,¹ dealing with the increased number of critically ill patients who need noninvasive ventilation, as well as serving as the best alternative to overfilled intensive care units (ICUs). In Italy, SICUs are playing a fundamental role in the management of COVID-19 patients, providing early treatment of respiratory failure by continuous noninvasive ventilation in order to reduce the need for intubation.^2-5 Nevertheless, the great majority of available data about critically ill COVID-19 patients comes from ICUs. Full studies about outcomes of patients in SICUs are lacking and need to be conducted.

We sought to evaluate the characteristics and outcomes of patients admitted to our SICU for COVID-19 to describe the treatments they needed and their impact on prognosis, and to identify the variables associated with patient outcomes.

Methods

Study Design

This cohort study used data from patients who were admitted in the very first weeks of the pandemic. Data were collected retrospectively as well as prospectively, since the ethical committee approved our project. The quality and quantity of data in the 2 groups were comparable.

Data were collected from electronic and written medical records gathered during the patient’s entire stay in our SICU. Data were entered in a database with limited and controlled access. This study complied with the Declaration of Helsinki and was approved by the local ethics committees (ID: MEDURG10).

Study Population

We studied 88 consecutive patients admitted to the SICU of the Santa Croce e Carle Teaching Hospital, Cuneo, Italy, for COVID-19, from March 8 to May 1, 2020. The diagnosis was based on acute respiratory failure associated with SARS-CoV-2 RNA detection on nasopharyngeal swab or tracheal aspirate and/or typical COVID-19 features on a pulmonary computed tomography (CT) scan.⁶ Exclusion criteria were age younger than 18 years and patient denial of permission to use their data for research purposes (the great majority of patients could actively give consent; for patients who were too sick to do so, family members were asked whether they were aware of any reason why the patient would deny consent).

The past medical history and recent symptoms description were obtained by manually reviewing medical records. Epidemiological exposure was defined as contact with SARS-CoV-2–positive people or staying in an epidemic outbreak area. Initial vital parameters, venous blood tests, arterial blood gas analysis, chest x-ray, as well as the result of the nasopharyngeal swab were gathered from the emergency department (ED) examination. (Additional swabs could be requested when the first one was negative but clinical suspicion for COVID-19 was high.) Upon admission to the SICU, a standardized panel of blood tests was performed, which was repeated the next day and then every 48 hours. Arterial blood gas analysis was performed when clinically indicated, at least twice a day, or following a scheduled time in patients undergoing pronation. Charlson Comorbidity Index⁷ and MuLBSTA score⁸ were calculated based on the collected data.

Imaging

Chest ultrasonography was performed in the ED at the time of hospitalization and once a day in the SICU. Pulmonary high-resolution computed tomography (HRCT) was performed when clinically indicated or when the results of nasopharyngeal swabs and/or x-ray results were discordant with COVID-19 clinical suspicion. Contrast CT was performed when pulmonary embolism was suspected.

Medical Therapy

Hydroxychloroquine, antiviral agents, tocilizumab, and ruxolitinib were used in the early phase of the pandemic, then were dismissed after evidence of no efficacy.^9-11 Steroids and low-molecular-weight heparin were used afterward. Enoxaparin was used at the standard prophylactic dosage, and 70% of the anticoagulant dosage was also adopted in patients with moderate-to-severe COVID-19 and D-dimer values >3 times the normal value.^12-14 Antibiotics were given when a bacterial superinfection was suspected.

Oxygen and Ventilatory Therapy

Oxygen support or noninvasive ventilation were started based on patients’ respiratory efficacy, estimated by respiratory rate and the ratio of partial pressure of arterial oxygen and fraction of inspired oxygen (P/F ratio).^15,16 Oxygen support was delivered through nasal cannula, Venturi mask, or reservoir mask. Noninvasive ventilation was performed by continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) when the P/F ratio was <250 or the respiratory rate was >25 breaths per minute, using the helmet interface.^5,17 Prone positioning during CPAP^18-20 was adopted in patients meeting the acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) criteria²¹ and having persistence of respiratory distress and P/F <300 after a 1-hour trial of CPAP.

The prone position was maintained based on patient tolerance. P/F ratio was measured before pronation (T0), after 1 hour of prone position (T1), before resupination (T2), and 6 hours after resupination (T3). With the same timing, the patient was asked to rate their comfort in each position, from 0 (lack of comfort) to 10 (optimal comfort). Delta P/F was defined as the difference between P/F at T3 and basal P/F at T0.

Outcomes

Positive outcomes were defined as patient discharge from the SICU or transfer to a lower-intensity care ward for treatment continuation. Negative outcomes were defined as need for transfer to the ICU, transfer to another ward for palliation, or death in the SICU.

Statistical Analysis

Continuous data are reported as median and interquartile range (IQR); normal distribution of variables was tested using the Shapiro-Wilk test. Categorical variables were reported as absolute number and percentage. The Mann-Whitney test was used to compare continuous variables between groups, and chi-square test with continuity correction was used for categorical variables. The variables that were most significantly associated with a negative outcome on the univariate analysis were included in a stepwise logistic regression analysis, in order to identify independent predictors of patient outcome. Statistical analysis was performed using JASP (JASP Team) software.

Study Population

Of the 88 patients included in the study, 70% were male; the median age was 66 years (IQR, 60-77). In most patients, the diagnosis of COVID-19 was derived from a positive SARS-CoV-2 nasopharyngeal swab. Six patients, however, maintained a negative swab at all determinations but had clinical and imaging features strongly suggesting COVID-19. No patients met the exclusion criteria. Most patients came from the ED (n = 58 [66%]) or general wards (n = 22 [25%]), while few were transferred from the ICU (n = 8 [9%]). The median length of stay in the SICU was 4 days (IQR, 2-7). An epidemiological link to affected persons or a known virus exposure was identifiable in 37 patients (42%).

Clinical, Laboratory, and Imaging Data

The clinical and anthropometric characteristics of patients are shown in Table 1. Hypertension and smoking habits were prevalent in our population, and the median Charlson Comorbidity Index was 3. Most patients experienced fever, dyspnea, and cough during the days before hospitalization.

Laboratory data showed a marked inflammatory milieu in all studied patients, both at baseline and after 24 and 72 hours. Lymphopenia was observed, along with a significant increase of lactate dehydrogenase (LDH), C-reactive protein (CPR), and D-dimer, and a mild increase of procalcitonin. N-terminal pro-brain natriuretic peptide (NT-proBNP) values were also increased, with normal troponin I values (Table 2).

Medical Therapy

Most patients (89%) received hydroxychloroquine, whereas steroids were used in one-third of the population (36%). Immunomodulators (tocilizumab and ruxolitinib) were restricted to 12 patients (14%). Empirical antiviral therapy was introduced in the first 41 patients (47%). Enoxaparin was the default agent for thromboembolism prophylaxis, and 6 patients (7%) received 70% of the anticoagulating dose.

Oxygen and Ventilatory Therapy

Basal median P/F ratio was 253 (IQR, 218-291), and respiratory rate at triage was 20 breaths/min (IQR, 16-28), underlining a moderate-to-severe respiratory insufficiency at presentation. A total of 69 patients (78%) underwent CPAP, with a median positive end-expiratory pressure (PEEP) of 10.0 cm H₂O (IQR, 7.5-10.0) and fraction of inspired oxygen (Fio₂) of 0.40 (IQR, 0.40-0.50). In 37 patients (42%) who received ongoing CPAP, prone positioning was adopted. In this subgroup, respiratory rate was not significantly different from baseline to resupination (24 vs 25 breaths/min). The median P/F improved from 197 (IQR, 154-236) at baseline to 217 (IQR, 180-262) after pronation (the duration of the prone position was variable, depending on patients’ tolerance: 1 to 6 hours or every pronation cycle). The median delta P/F ratio was 39.4 (IQR, –17.0 to 78.0).

Outcomes

A total of 28 patients (32%) had a negative outcome in the SICU: 8 patients (9%) died, having no clinical indication for higher-intensity care; 6 patients (7%) were transferred to general wards for palliation; and 14 patients (16%) needed an upgrade of cure intensity and were transferred to the ICU. Of these 14 patients, 9 died in the ICU. The total in-hospital mortality of COVID-19 patients, including patients transferred from the SICU to general wards in fair condition, was 27% (n = 24). Clinical, laboratory, and therapeutic characteristics between the 2 groups are shown in Table 4.

Patients who had a negative outcome were significantly older and had more comorbidities, as suggested by a significantly higher prevalence of diabetes and higher Charlson Comorbidity scores (reflecting the mortality risk based on age and comorbidities). The median MuLBSTA score, which estimates the 90-day mortality risk from viral pneumonia, was also higher in patients who had a negative outcome (9.33%). Symptom occurrence was not different in patients with a negative outcome (apart from cough, which was less frequent), but these patients underwent hospitalization earlier—since the appearance of their first COVID-19 symptoms—compared to patients who had a positive outcome. No difference was found in antihypertensive therapy with angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors or angiotensin-receptor blockers among outcome groups.

More pronounced laboratory abnormalities were found in patients who had a negative outcome, compared to patients who had a positive outcome: lower lymphocytes and higher C-reactive protein (CRP), procalcitonin, D-dimer, LDH, and NT-proBNP. We found no differences in the radiological distribution of pulmonary involvement in patients who had negative or positive outcomes, nor in the adopted medical treatment.

Data showed no difference in CPAP implementation in the 2 groups. However, prone positioning had been more frequently adopted in the group of patients who had a positive outcome, compared with patients who had a negative outcome. No differences of basal P/F were found in patients who had a negative or positive outcome, but the median P/F after 6 hours of prone position was significantly lower in patients who had a negative outcome. The delta P/F ratio did not differ in the 2 groups of patients.

Multivariate Analysis

A logistic regression model was created, including the variables significantly associated with outcomes in the univariate analysis (age, sex, history of diabetes, lymphocytes, CRP, procalcitonin, LDH, NT-proBNP, and D-dimer). In the multivariate analysis, independent predictors of a negative outcome were history of diabetes (odds ratio [OR], 8.22; 95% CI, 1.50-44.70; P =.015), high D-dimer values (OR, 1.28; CI, 1.04-1.57; P = .019), high LDH values (OR, 1.003; CI, 1.000-1.006; P = .039), and low lymphocytes count (OR, 0.996; CI, 0.993-0.999; P = .004).

Discussion

Role of Subintensive Units and Mortality

The novelty of our report is its attempt to investigate the specific group of COVID-19 patients admitted to a SICU. In Italy, SICUs receive acutely ill, spontaneously breathing patients who need (invasive) hemodynamic monitoring, vasoactive medication, renal replacement therapy, chest- tube placement, thrombolysis, and respiratory noninvasive support. The nurse-to-patient ratio is higher than for general wards (usually 1 nurse to every 4 or 5 patients), though lower than for ICUs. In northern Italy, a great number of COVID-19 patients have required this kind of high-intensity care during the pandemic: Noninvasive ventilation support had to be maintained for several days, pronation maneuvers required a high number of people 2 or 3 times a day, and strict monitoring had to be assured. The SICU setting allows patients to buy time as a bridge to progressive reduction of pulmonary involvement, sometimes preventing the need for intubation.

The high prevalence of negative outcomes in the SICU underlines the complexity of COVID-19 patients in this setting. In fact, published data about mortality for patients with severe COVID-19 pneumonia are similar to ours.^22,23

Clinical, Laboratory, and Imaging Data

Our analysis confirmed a high rate of comorbidities in COVID-19 patients²⁴ and their prognostic role with age.^25,26 A marked inflammatory milieu was a negative prognostic indicator, and associated concomitant bacterial superinfection could have led to a worse prognosis (procalcitonin was associated with negative outcomes).²⁷ The cardiovascular system was nevertheless stressed, as suggested by higher values of NT-proBNP in patients with negative outcomes, which could reflect sepsis-related systemic involvement.²⁸

It is known that the pulmonary damage caused by SARS-CoV-2 has a dynamic radiological and clinical course, with early areas of subsegmental consolidation, and bilateral ground-glass opacities predominating later in the course of the disease.²⁹ This could explain why in our population we found no specific radiological pattern leading to a worse outcome.

Medical Therapy

No specific pharmacological therapy was found to be associated with a positive outcome in our study, just like antiviral and immunomodulator therapies failed to demonstrate effectiveness in subsequent pandemic surges. The low statistical power of our study did not allow us to give insight into the effectiveness of steroids and heparin at any dosage.

PEEP Support and Prone Positioning

Continuous positive airway pressure was initiated in the majority of patients and maintained for several days. This was an absolute novelty, because we rarely had to keep patients in helmets for long. This was feasible thanks to the SICU’s high nurse-to-patient ratio and the possibility of providing monitored sedation. Patients who could no longer tolerate CPAP helmets or did not improve with CPAP support were evaluated with anesthetists for programming further management. No initial data on respiratory rate, level of hypoxemia, or oxygen support need (level of PEEP and Fio₂) could discriminate between outcomes.

Prone positioning during CPAP was implemented in 42% of our study population: P/F ratio amelioration after prone positioning was highly variable, ranging from very good P/F ratio improvements to few responses or no response. No significantly greater delta P/F ratio was seen after the first prone positioning cycle in patients who had a positive outcome, probably due to the small size of our population, but we observed a clear positive trend. Interestingly, patients showing a negative outcome had a lower percentage of long-term responses to prone positioning: 6 hours after resupination, they lost the benefit of prone positioning in terms of P/F ratio amelioration. Similarly, a greater number of patients tolerating prone positioning had a positive outcome. These data give insight on the possible benefits of prone positioning in a noninvasively supported cohort of patients, which has been mentioned in previous studies.^30,31

Outcomes and Variables Associated With Negative Outcomes

After correction for age and sex, we found in multiple regression analysis that higher D-dimer and LDH values, lymphopenia, and history of diabetes were independently associated with a worse outcome. Although our results had low statistical significance, we consider the trend of the obtained odds ratios important from a clinical point of view. These results could lead to greater attention being placed on COVID-19 patients who present with these characteristics upon their arrival to the ED because they have increased risk of death or intensive care need. Clinicians should consider SICU admission for these patients in order to guarantee closer monitoring and possibly more aggressive ventilatory treatments, earlier pronation, or earlier transfer to the ICU.

Limitations

The major limitation to our study is undoubtedly its statistical power, due to its relatively low patient population. Particularly, the small number of patients who underwent pronation did not allow speculation about the efficacy of this technique, although preliminary data seem promising. However, ours is among the first studies regarding patients with COVID-19 admitted to a SICU, and these preliminary data truthfully describe the Italian, and perhaps international, experience with the first surge of the pandemic.

Conclusions

Our data highlight the primary role of the SICU in COVID-19 in adequately treating critically ill patients who have high care needs different from intubation, and who require noninvasive ventilation for prolonged times as well as frequent pronation cycles. This setting of care may represent a valid, reliable, and effective option for critically ill respiratory patients. History of diabetes, lymphopenia, and high D-dimer and LDH values are independently associated with negative outcomes, and patients presenting with these characteristics should be strictly monitored.

Acknowledgments: The authors thank the Informatica System S.R.L., as well as Allessando Mendolia for the pro bono creation of the ISCovidCollect data collecting app.

Corresponding author: Sara Abram, MD, via Coppino, 12100 Cuneo, Italy; [email protected].

Disclosures: None.

From the Department of Emergency Medicine, Santa Croce e Carle Hospital, Cuneo, Italy (Drs. Abram, Tosello, Emanuele Bernardi, Allione, Cavalot, Dutto, Corsini, Martini, Sciolla, Sara Bernardi, and Lauria). From the School of Emergency Medicine, University of Turin, Turin, Italy (Drs. Paglietta and Giamello).

Objective: This retrospective and prospective cohort study was designed to describe the characteristics, treatments, and outcomes of patients with SARS-CoV-2 infection (COVID-19) admitted to subintensive care units (SICU) and to identify the variables associated with outcomes. SICUs have been extremely stressed during the pandemic, but most data regarding critically ill COVID-19 patients come from intensive care units (ICUs). Studies about COVID-19 patients in SICUs are lacking.

Setting and participants: The study included 88 COVID-19 patients admitted to our SICU in Cuneo, Italy, between March and May 2020.

Measurements: Clinical and ventilatory data were collected, and patients were divided by outcome. Multivariable logistic regression analysis examined the variables associated with negative outcomes (transfer to the ICU, palliation, or death in a SICU).

Results: A total of 60 patients (68%) had a positive outcome, and 28 patients (32%) had a negative outcome; 69 patients (78%) underwent continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP). Pronation (n = 37 [42%]) had been more frequently adopted in patients who had a positive outcome vs a negative outcome (n = 30 [50%] vs n = 7 [25%]; P = .048), and the median (interquartile range) Pao₂/Fio₂ ratio after 6 hours of prone positioning was lower in patients who had a negative outcome vs a positive outcome (144 [140-168] vs 249 [195-268], P = .006). Independent predictors of a negative outcome were diabetes (odds ratio [OR], 8.22; 95% CI, 1.50-44.70; P = .015), higher D-dimer (OR, 1.28; 95% CI, 1.04-1.57; P = .019), higher lactate dehydrogenase level (OR, 1.003; 95% CI, 1.000-1.006; P = .039), and lower lymphocytes count (OR, 0.996; 95% CI, 0.993-0.999; P = .004).

Conclusion: SICUs have a fundamental role in the treatment of critically ill patients with COVID-19, who require long-term CPAP and pronation cycles. Diabetes, lymphopenia, and high D-dimer and LDH levels are associated with negative outcomes.

Keywords: emergency medicine, noninvasive ventilation, prone position, continuous positive airway pressure.

The COVID-19 pandemic has led to large increases in hospital admissions. Subintensive care units (SICUs) are among the wards most under pressure worldwide,¹ dealing with the increased number of critically ill patients who need noninvasive ventilation, as well as serving as the best alternative to overfilled intensive care units (ICUs). In Italy, SICUs are playing a fundamental role in the management of COVID-19 patients, providing early treatment of respiratory failure by continuous noninvasive ventilation in order to reduce the need for intubation.^2-5 Nevertheless, the great majority of available data about critically ill COVID-19 patients comes from ICUs. Full studies about outcomes of patients in SICUs are lacking and need to be conducted.

We sought to evaluate the characteristics and outcomes of patients admitted to our SICU for COVID-19 to describe the treatments they needed and their impact on prognosis, and to identify the variables associated with patient outcomes.

Methods

Study Design

This cohort study used data from patients who were admitted in the very first weeks of the pandemic. Data were collected retrospectively as well as prospectively, since the ethical committee approved our project. The quality and quantity of data in the 2 groups were comparable.

Data were collected from electronic and written medical records gathered during the patient’s entire stay in our SICU. Data were entered in a database with limited and controlled access. This study complied with the Declaration of Helsinki and was approved by the local ethics committees (ID: MEDURG10).

Study Population

We studied 88 consecutive patients admitted to the SICU of the Santa Croce e Carle Teaching Hospital, Cuneo, Italy, for COVID-19, from March 8 to May 1, 2020. The diagnosis was based on acute respiratory failure associated with SARS-CoV-2 RNA detection on nasopharyngeal swab or tracheal aspirate and/or typical COVID-19 features on a pulmonary computed tomography (CT) scan.⁶ Exclusion criteria were age younger than 18 years and patient denial of permission to use their data for research purposes (the great majority of patients could actively give consent; for patients who were too sick to do so, family members were asked whether they were aware of any reason why the patient would deny consent).

The past medical history and recent symptoms description were obtained by manually reviewing medical records. Epidemiological exposure was defined as contact with SARS-CoV-2–positive people or staying in an epidemic outbreak area. Initial vital parameters, venous blood tests, arterial blood gas analysis, chest x-ray, as well as the result of the nasopharyngeal swab were gathered from the emergency department (ED) examination. (Additional swabs could be requested when the first one was negative but clinical suspicion for COVID-19 was high.) Upon admission to the SICU, a standardized panel of blood tests was performed, which was repeated the next day and then every 48 hours. Arterial blood gas analysis was performed when clinically indicated, at least twice a day, or following a scheduled time in patients undergoing pronation. Charlson Comorbidity Index⁷ and MuLBSTA score⁸ were calculated based on the collected data.

Imaging

Chest ultrasonography was performed in the ED at the time of hospitalization and once a day in the SICU. Pulmonary high-resolution computed tomography (HRCT) was performed when clinically indicated or when the results of nasopharyngeal swabs and/or x-ray results were discordant with COVID-19 clinical suspicion. Contrast CT was performed when pulmonary embolism was suspected.

Medical Therapy

Hydroxychloroquine, antiviral agents, tocilizumab, and ruxolitinib were used in the early phase of the pandemic, then were dismissed after evidence of no efficacy.^9-11 Steroids and low-molecular-weight heparin were used afterward. Enoxaparin was used at the standard prophylactic dosage, and 70% of the anticoagulant dosage was also adopted in patients with moderate-to-severe COVID-19 and D-dimer values >3 times the normal value.^12-14 Antibiotics were given when a bacterial superinfection was suspected.

Oxygen and Ventilatory Therapy

Oxygen support or noninvasive ventilation were started based on patients’ respiratory efficacy, estimated by respiratory rate and the ratio of partial pressure of arterial oxygen and fraction of inspired oxygen (P/F ratio).^15,16 Oxygen support was delivered through nasal cannula, Venturi mask, or reservoir mask. Noninvasive ventilation was performed by continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) when the P/F ratio was <250 or the respiratory rate was >25 breaths per minute, using the helmet interface.^5,17 Prone positioning during CPAP^18-20 was adopted in patients meeting the acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) criteria²¹ and having persistence of respiratory distress and P/F <300 after a 1-hour trial of CPAP.

The prone position was maintained based on patient tolerance. P/F ratio was measured before pronation (T0), after 1 hour of prone position (T1), before resupination (T2), and 6 hours after resupination (T3). With the same timing, the patient was asked to rate their comfort in each position, from 0 (lack of comfort) to 10 (optimal comfort). Delta P/F was defined as the difference between P/F at T3 and basal P/F at T0.

Outcomes

Positive outcomes were defined as patient discharge from the SICU or transfer to a lower-intensity care ward for treatment continuation. Negative outcomes were defined as need for transfer to the ICU, transfer to another ward for palliation, or death in the SICU.

Statistical Analysis

Continuous data are reported as median and interquartile range (IQR); normal distribution of variables was tested using the Shapiro-Wilk test. Categorical variables were reported as absolute number and percentage. The Mann-Whitney test was used to compare continuous variables between groups, and chi-square test with continuity correction was used for categorical variables. The variables that were most significantly associated with a negative outcome on the univariate analysis were included in a stepwise logistic regression analysis, in order to identify independent predictors of patient outcome. Statistical analysis was performed using JASP (JASP Team) software.

Study Population

Of the 88 patients included in the study, 70% were male; the median age was 66 years (IQR, 60-77). In most patients, the diagnosis of COVID-19 was derived from a positive SARS-CoV-2 nasopharyngeal swab. Six patients, however, maintained a negative swab at all determinations but had clinical and imaging features strongly suggesting COVID-19. No patients met the exclusion criteria. Most patients came from the ED (n = 58 [66%]) or general wards (n = 22 [25%]), while few were transferred from the ICU (n = 8 [9%]). The median length of stay in the SICU was 4 days (IQR, 2-7). An epidemiological link to affected persons or a known virus exposure was identifiable in 37 patients (42%).

Clinical, Laboratory, and Imaging Data

The clinical and anthropometric characteristics of patients are shown in Table 1. Hypertension and smoking habits were prevalent in our population, and the median Charlson Comorbidity Index was 3. Most patients experienced fever, dyspnea, and cough during the days before hospitalization.

Laboratory data showed a marked inflammatory milieu in all studied patients, both at baseline and after 24 and 72 hours. Lymphopenia was observed, along with a significant increase of lactate dehydrogenase (LDH), C-reactive protein (CPR), and D-dimer, and a mild increase of procalcitonin. N-terminal pro-brain natriuretic peptide (NT-proBNP) values were also increased, with normal troponin I values (Table 2).

Medical Therapy

Most patients (89%) received hydroxychloroquine, whereas steroids were used in one-third of the population (36%). Immunomodulators (tocilizumab and ruxolitinib) were restricted to 12 patients (14%). Empirical antiviral therapy was introduced in the first 41 patients (47%). Enoxaparin was the default agent for thromboembolism prophylaxis, and 6 patients (7%) received 70% of the anticoagulating dose.

Oxygen and Ventilatory Therapy

Basal median P/F ratio was 253 (IQR, 218-291), and respiratory rate at triage was 20 breaths/min (IQR, 16-28), underlining a moderate-to-severe respiratory insufficiency at presentation. A total of 69 patients (78%) underwent CPAP, with a median positive end-expiratory pressure (PEEP) of 10.0 cm H₂O (IQR, 7.5-10.0) and fraction of inspired oxygen (Fio₂) of 0.40 (IQR, 0.40-0.50). In 37 patients (42%) who received ongoing CPAP, prone positioning was adopted. In this subgroup, respiratory rate was not significantly different from baseline to resupination (24 vs 25 breaths/min). The median P/F improved from 197 (IQR, 154-236) at baseline to 217 (IQR, 180-262) after pronation (the duration of the prone position was variable, depending on patients’ tolerance: 1 to 6 hours or every pronation cycle). The median delta P/F ratio was 39.4 (IQR, –17.0 to 78.0).

Outcomes

A total of 28 patients (32%) had a negative outcome in the SICU: 8 patients (9%) died, having no clinical indication for higher-intensity care; 6 patients (7%) were transferred to general wards for palliation; and 14 patients (16%) needed an upgrade of cure intensity and were transferred to the ICU. Of these 14 patients, 9 died in the ICU. The total in-hospital mortality of COVID-19 patients, including patients transferred from the SICU to general wards in fair condition, was 27% (n = 24). Clinical, laboratory, and therapeutic characteristics between the 2 groups are shown in Table 4.

Patients who had a negative outcome were significantly older and had more comorbidities, as suggested by a significantly higher prevalence of diabetes and higher Charlson Comorbidity scores (reflecting the mortality risk based on age and comorbidities). The median MuLBSTA score, which estimates the 90-day mortality risk from viral pneumonia, was also higher in patients who had a negative outcome (9.33%). Symptom occurrence was not different in patients with a negative outcome (apart from cough, which was less frequent), but these patients underwent hospitalization earlier—since the appearance of their first COVID-19 symptoms—compared to patients who had a positive outcome. No difference was found in antihypertensive therapy with angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors or angiotensin-receptor blockers among outcome groups.

More pronounced laboratory abnormalities were found in patients who had a negative outcome, compared to patients who had a positive outcome: lower lymphocytes and higher C-reactive protein (CRP), procalcitonin, D-dimer, LDH, and NT-proBNP. We found no differences in the radiological distribution of pulmonary involvement in patients who had negative or positive outcomes, nor in the adopted medical treatment.

Data showed no difference in CPAP implementation in the 2 groups. However, prone positioning had been more frequently adopted in the group of patients who had a positive outcome, compared with patients who had a negative outcome. No differences of basal P/F were found in patients who had a negative or positive outcome, but the median P/F after 6 hours of prone position was significantly lower in patients who had a negative outcome. The delta P/F ratio did not differ in the 2 groups of patients.

Multivariate Analysis

A logistic regression model was created, including the variables significantly associated with outcomes in the univariate analysis (age, sex, history of diabetes, lymphocytes, CRP, procalcitonin, LDH, NT-proBNP, and D-dimer). In the multivariate analysis, independent predictors of a negative outcome were history of diabetes (odds ratio [OR], 8.22; 95% CI, 1.50-44.70; P =.015), high D-dimer values (OR, 1.28; CI, 1.04-1.57; P = .019), high LDH values (OR, 1.003; CI, 1.000-1.006; P = .039), and low lymphocytes count (OR, 0.996; CI, 0.993-0.999; P = .004).

Discussion

Role of Subintensive Units and Mortality

The novelty of our report is its attempt to investigate the specific group of COVID-19 patients admitted to a SICU. In Italy, SICUs receive acutely ill, spontaneously breathing patients who need (invasive) hemodynamic monitoring, vasoactive medication, renal replacement therapy, chest- tube placement, thrombolysis, and respiratory noninvasive support. The nurse-to-patient ratio is higher than for general wards (usually 1 nurse to every 4 or 5 patients), though lower than for ICUs. In northern Italy, a great number of COVID-19 patients have required this kind of high-intensity care during the pandemic: Noninvasive ventilation support had to be maintained for several days, pronation maneuvers required a high number of people 2 or 3 times a day, and strict monitoring had to be assured. The SICU setting allows patients to buy time as a bridge to progressive reduction of pulmonary involvement, sometimes preventing the need for intubation.

The high prevalence of negative outcomes in the SICU underlines the complexity of COVID-19 patients in this setting. In fact, published data about mortality for patients with severe COVID-19 pneumonia are similar to ours.^22,23

Clinical, Laboratory, and Imaging Data

Our analysis confirmed a high rate of comorbidities in COVID-19 patients²⁴ and their prognostic role with age.^25,26 A marked inflammatory milieu was a negative prognostic indicator, and associated concomitant bacterial superinfection could have led to a worse prognosis (procalcitonin was associated with negative outcomes).²⁷ The cardiovascular system was nevertheless stressed, as suggested by higher values of NT-proBNP in patients with negative outcomes, which could reflect sepsis-related systemic involvement.²⁸

It is known that the pulmonary damage caused by SARS-CoV-2 has a dynamic radiological and clinical course, with early areas of subsegmental consolidation, and bilateral ground-glass opacities predominating later in the course of the disease.²⁹ This could explain why in our population we found no specific radiological pattern leading to a worse outcome.

Medical Therapy

No specific pharmacological therapy was found to be associated with a positive outcome in our study, just like antiviral and immunomodulator therapies failed to demonstrate effectiveness in subsequent pandemic surges. The low statistical power of our study did not allow us to give insight into the effectiveness of steroids and heparin at any dosage.

PEEP Support and Prone Positioning

Continuous positive airway pressure was initiated in the majority of patients and maintained for several days. This was an absolute novelty, because we rarely had to keep patients in helmets for long. This was feasible thanks to the SICU’s high nurse-to-patient ratio and the possibility of providing monitored sedation. Patients who could no longer tolerate CPAP helmets or did not improve with CPAP support were evaluated with anesthetists for programming further management. No initial data on respiratory rate, level of hypoxemia, or oxygen support need (level of PEEP and Fio₂) could discriminate between outcomes.

Prone positioning during CPAP was implemented in 42% of our study population: P/F ratio amelioration after prone positioning was highly variable, ranging from very good P/F ratio improvements to few responses or no response. No significantly greater delta P/F ratio was seen after the first prone positioning cycle in patients who had a positive outcome, probably due to the small size of our population, but we observed a clear positive trend. Interestingly, patients showing a negative outcome had a lower percentage of long-term responses to prone positioning: 6 hours after resupination, they lost the benefit of prone positioning in terms of P/F ratio amelioration. Similarly, a greater number of patients tolerating prone positioning had a positive outcome. These data give insight on the possible benefits of prone positioning in a noninvasively supported cohort of patients, which has been mentioned in previous studies.^30,31

Outcomes and Variables Associated With Negative Outcomes

After correction for age and sex, we found in multiple regression analysis that higher D-dimer and LDH values, lymphopenia, and history of diabetes were independently associated with a worse outcome. Although our results had low statistical significance, we consider the trend of the obtained odds ratios important from a clinical point of view. These results could lead to greater attention being placed on COVID-19 patients who present with these characteristics upon their arrival to the ED because they have increased risk of death or intensive care need. Clinicians should consider SICU admission for these patients in order to guarantee closer monitoring and possibly more aggressive ventilatory treatments, earlier pronation, or earlier transfer to the ICU.

Limitations

The major limitation to our study is undoubtedly its statistical power, due to its relatively low patient population. Particularly, the small number of patients who underwent pronation did not allow speculation about the efficacy of this technique, although preliminary data seem promising. However, ours is among the first studies regarding patients with COVID-19 admitted to a SICU, and these preliminary data truthfully describe the Italian, and perhaps international, experience with the first surge of the pandemic.

Conclusions

Our data highlight the primary role of the SICU in COVID-19 in adequately treating critically ill patients who have high care needs different from intubation, and who require noninvasive ventilation for prolonged times as well as frequent pronation cycles. This setting of care may represent a valid, reliable, and effective option for critically ill respiratory patients. History of diabetes, lymphopenia, and high D-dimer and LDH values are independently associated with negative outcomes, and patients presenting with these characteristics should be strictly monitored.

Acknowledgments: The authors thank the Informatica System S.R.L., as well as Allessando Mendolia for the pro bono creation of the ISCovidCollect data collecting app.

Corresponding author: Sara Abram, MD, via Coppino, 12100 Cuneo, Italy; [email protected].

Disclosures: None.

From the Department of Emergency Medicine, Santa Croce e Carle Hospital, Cuneo, Italy (Drs. Abram, Tosello, Emanuele Bernardi, Allione, Cavalot, Dutto, Corsini, Martini, Sciolla, Sara Bernardi, and Lauria). From the School of Emergency Medicine, University of Turin, Turin, Italy (Drs. Paglietta and Giamello).

Objective: This retrospective and prospective cohort study was designed to describe the characteristics, treatments, and outcomes of patients with SARS-CoV-2 infection (COVID-19) admitted to subintensive care units (SICU) and to identify the variables associated with outcomes. SICUs have been extremely stressed during the pandemic, but most data regarding critically ill COVID-19 patients come from intensive care units (ICUs). Studies about COVID-19 patients in SICUs are lacking.

Setting and participants: The study included 88 COVID-19 patients admitted to our SICU in Cuneo, Italy, between March and May 2020.

Measurements: Clinical and ventilatory data were collected, and patients were divided by outcome. Multivariable logistic regression analysis examined the variables associated with negative outcomes (transfer to the ICU, palliation, or death in a SICU).

Results: A total of 60 patients (68%) had a positive outcome, and 28 patients (32%) had a negative outcome; 69 patients (78%) underwent continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP). Pronation (n = 37 [42%]) had been more frequently adopted in patients who had a positive outcome vs a negative outcome (n = 30 [50%] vs n = 7 [25%]; P = .048), and the median (interquartile range) Pao₂/Fio₂ ratio after 6 hours of prone positioning was lower in patients who had a negative outcome vs a positive outcome (144 [140-168] vs 249 [195-268], P = .006). Independent predictors of a negative outcome were diabetes (odds ratio [OR], 8.22; 95% CI, 1.50-44.70; P = .015), higher D-dimer (OR, 1.28; 95% CI, 1.04-1.57; P = .019), higher lactate dehydrogenase level (OR, 1.003; 95% CI, 1.000-1.006; P = .039), and lower lymphocytes count (OR, 0.996; 95% CI, 0.993-0.999; P = .004).

Conclusion: SICUs have a fundamental role in the treatment of critically ill patients with COVID-19, who require long-term CPAP and pronation cycles. Diabetes, lymphopenia, and high D-dimer and LDH levels are associated with negative outcomes.

Keywords: emergency medicine, noninvasive ventilation, prone position, continuous positive airway pressure.

The COVID-19 pandemic has led to large increases in hospital admissions. Subintensive care units (SICUs) are among the wards most under pressure worldwide,¹ dealing with the increased number of critically ill patients who need noninvasive ventilation, as well as serving as the best alternative to overfilled intensive care units (ICUs). In Italy, SICUs are playing a fundamental role in the management of COVID-19 patients, providing early treatment of respiratory failure by continuous noninvasive ventilation in order to reduce the need for intubation.^2-5 Nevertheless, the great majority of available data about critically ill COVID-19 patients comes from ICUs. Full studies about outcomes of patients in SICUs are lacking and need to be conducted.

We sought to evaluate the characteristics and outcomes of patients admitted to our SICU for COVID-19 to describe the treatments they needed and their impact on prognosis, and to identify the variables associated with patient outcomes.

Methods

Study Design

This cohort study used data from patients who were admitted in the very first weeks of the pandemic. Data were collected retrospectively as well as prospectively, since the ethical committee approved our project. The quality and quantity of data in the 2 groups were comparable.

Data were collected from electronic and written medical records gathered during the patient’s entire stay in our SICU. Data were entered in a database with limited and controlled access. This study complied with the Declaration of Helsinki and was approved by the local ethics committees (ID: MEDURG10).

Study Population

We studied 88 consecutive patients admitted to the SICU of the Santa Croce e Carle Teaching Hospital, Cuneo, Italy, for COVID-19, from March 8 to May 1, 2020. The diagnosis was based on acute respiratory failure associated with SARS-CoV-2 RNA detection on nasopharyngeal swab or tracheal aspirate and/or typical COVID-19 features on a pulmonary computed tomography (CT) scan.⁶ Exclusion criteria were age younger than 18 years and patient denial of permission to use their data for research purposes (the great majority of patients could actively give consent; for patients who were too sick to do so, family members were asked whether they were aware of any reason why the patient would deny consent).

The past medical history and recent symptoms description were obtained by manually reviewing medical records. Epidemiological exposure was defined as contact with SARS-CoV-2–positive people or staying in an epidemic outbreak area. Initial vital parameters, venous blood tests, arterial blood gas analysis, chest x-ray, as well as the result of the nasopharyngeal swab were gathered from the emergency department (ED) examination. (Additional swabs could be requested when the first one was negative but clinical suspicion for COVID-19 was high.) Upon admission to the SICU, a standardized panel of blood tests was performed, which was repeated the next day and then every 48 hours. Arterial blood gas analysis was performed when clinically indicated, at least twice a day, or following a scheduled time in patients undergoing pronation. Charlson Comorbidity Index⁷ and MuLBSTA score⁸ were calculated based on the collected data.

Imaging

Chest ultrasonography was performed in the ED at the time of hospitalization and once a day in the SICU. Pulmonary high-resolution computed tomography (HRCT) was performed when clinically indicated or when the results of nasopharyngeal swabs and/or x-ray results were discordant with COVID-19 clinical suspicion. Contrast CT was performed when pulmonary embolism was suspected.

Medical Therapy

Hydroxychloroquine, antiviral agents, tocilizumab, and ruxolitinib were used in the early phase of the pandemic, then were dismissed after evidence of no efficacy.^9-11 Steroids and low-molecular-weight heparin were used afterward. Enoxaparin was used at the standard prophylactic dosage, and 70% of the anticoagulant dosage was also adopted in patients with moderate-to-severe COVID-19 and D-dimer values >3 times the normal value.^12-14 Antibiotics were given when a bacterial superinfection was suspected.

Oxygen and Ventilatory Therapy

Oxygen support or noninvasive ventilation were started based on patients’ respiratory efficacy, estimated by respiratory rate and the ratio of partial pressure of arterial oxygen and fraction of inspired oxygen (P/F ratio).^15,16 Oxygen support was delivered through nasal cannula, Venturi mask, or reservoir mask. Noninvasive ventilation was performed by continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) when the P/F ratio was <250 or the respiratory rate was >25 breaths per minute, using the helmet interface.^5,17 Prone positioning during CPAP^18-20 was adopted in patients meeting the acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) criteria²¹ and having persistence of respiratory distress and P/F <300 after a 1-hour trial of CPAP.

The prone position was maintained based on patient tolerance. P/F ratio was measured before pronation (T0), after 1 hour of prone position (T1), before resupination (T2), and 6 hours after resupination (T3). With the same timing, the patient was asked to rate their comfort in each position, from 0 (lack of comfort) to 10 (optimal comfort). Delta P/F was defined as the difference between P/F at T3 and basal P/F at T0.

Outcomes

Positive outcomes were defined as patient discharge from the SICU or transfer to a lower-intensity care ward for treatment continuation. Negative outcomes were defined as need for transfer to the ICU, transfer to another ward for palliation, or death in the SICU.

Statistical Analysis

Continuous data are reported as median and interquartile range (IQR); normal distribution of variables was tested using the Shapiro-Wilk test. Categorical variables were reported as absolute number and percentage. The Mann-Whitney test was used to compare continuous variables between groups, and chi-square test with continuity correction was used for categorical variables. The variables that were most significantly associated with a negative outcome on the univariate analysis were included in a stepwise logistic regression analysis, in order to identify independent predictors of patient outcome. Statistical analysis was performed using JASP (JASP Team) software.

Study Population

Of the 88 patients included in the study, 70% were male; the median age was 66 years (IQR, 60-77). In most patients, the diagnosis of COVID-19 was derived from a positive SARS-CoV-2 nasopharyngeal swab. Six patients, however, maintained a negative swab at all determinations but had clinical and imaging features strongly suggesting COVID-19. No patients met the exclusion criteria. Most patients came from the ED (n = 58 [66%]) or general wards (n = 22 [25%]), while few were transferred from the ICU (n = 8 [9%]). The median length of stay in the SICU was 4 days (IQR, 2-7). An epidemiological link to affected persons or a known virus exposure was identifiable in 37 patients (42%).

Clinical, Laboratory, and Imaging Data

The clinical and anthropometric characteristics of patients are shown in Table 1. Hypertension and smoking habits were prevalent in our population, and the median Charlson Comorbidity Index was 3. Most patients experienced fever, dyspnea, and cough during the days before hospitalization.

Laboratory data showed a marked inflammatory milieu in all studied patients, both at baseline and after 24 and 72 hours. Lymphopenia was observed, along with a significant increase of lactate dehydrogenase (LDH), C-reactive protein (CPR), and D-dimer, and a mild increase of procalcitonin. N-terminal pro-brain natriuretic peptide (NT-proBNP) values were also increased, with normal troponin I values (Table 2).

Medical Therapy

Most patients (89%) received hydroxychloroquine, whereas steroids were used in one-third of the population (36%). Immunomodulators (tocilizumab and ruxolitinib) were restricted to 12 patients (14%). Empirical antiviral therapy was introduced in the first 41 patients (47%). Enoxaparin was the default agent for thromboembolism prophylaxis, and 6 patients (7%) received 70% of the anticoagulating dose.

Oxygen and Ventilatory Therapy

Basal median P/F ratio was 253 (IQR, 218-291), and respiratory rate at triage was 20 breaths/min (IQR, 16-28), underlining a moderate-to-severe respiratory insufficiency at presentation. A total of 69 patients (78%) underwent CPAP, with a median positive end-expiratory pressure (PEEP) of 10.0 cm H₂O (IQR, 7.5-10.0) and fraction of inspired oxygen (Fio₂) of 0.40 (IQR, 0.40-0.50). In 37 patients (42%) who received ongoing CPAP, prone positioning was adopted. In this subgroup, respiratory rate was not significantly different from baseline to resupination (24 vs 25 breaths/min). The median P/F improved from 197 (IQR, 154-236) at baseline to 217 (IQR, 180-262) after pronation (the duration of the prone position was variable, depending on patients’ tolerance: 1 to 6 hours or every pronation cycle). The median delta P/F ratio was 39.4 (IQR, –17.0 to 78.0).

Outcomes

A total of 28 patients (32%) had a negative outcome in the SICU: 8 patients (9%) died, having no clinical indication for higher-intensity care; 6 patients (7%) were transferred to general wards for palliation; and 14 patients (16%) needed an upgrade of cure intensity and were transferred to the ICU. Of these 14 patients, 9 died in the ICU. The total in-hospital mortality of COVID-19 patients, including patients transferred from the SICU to general wards in fair condition, was 27% (n = 24). Clinical, laboratory, and therapeutic characteristics between the 2 groups are shown in Table 4.

Patients who had a negative outcome were significantly older and had more comorbidities, as suggested by a significantly higher prevalence of diabetes and higher Charlson Comorbidity scores (reflecting the mortality risk based on age and comorbidities). The median MuLBSTA score, which estimates the 90-day mortality risk from viral pneumonia, was also higher in patients who had a negative outcome (9.33%). Symptom occurrence was not different in patients with a negative outcome (apart from cough, which was less frequent), but these patients underwent hospitalization earlier—since the appearance of their first COVID-19 symptoms—compared to patients who had a positive outcome. No difference was found in antihypertensive therapy with angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors or angiotensin-receptor blockers among outcome groups.

More pronounced laboratory abnormalities were found in patients who had a negative outcome, compared to patients who had a positive outcome: lower lymphocytes and higher C-reactive protein (CRP), procalcitonin, D-dimer, LDH, and NT-proBNP. We found no differences in the radiological distribution of pulmonary involvement in patients who had negative or positive outcomes, nor in the adopted medical treatment.

Data showed no difference in CPAP implementation in the 2 groups. However, prone positioning had been more frequently adopted in the group of patients who had a positive outcome, compared with patients who had a negative outcome. No differences of basal P/F were found in patients who had a negative or positive outcome, but the median P/F after 6 hours of prone position was significantly lower in patients who had a negative outcome. The delta P/F ratio did not differ in the 2 groups of patients.

Multivariate Analysis

A logistic regression model was created, including the variables significantly associated with outcomes in the univariate analysis (age, sex, history of diabetes, lymphocytes, CRP, procalcitonin, LDH, NT-proBNP, and D-dimer). In the multivariate analysis, independent predictors of a negative outcome were history of diabetes (odds ratio [OR], 8.22; 95% CI, 1.50-44.70; P =.015), high D-dimer values (OR, 1.28; CI, 1.04-1.57; P = .019), high LDH values (OR, 1.003; CI, 1.000-1.006; P = .039), and low lymphocytes count (OR, 0.996; CI, 0.993-0.999; P = .004).

Discussion

Role of Subintensive Units and Mortality

The novelty of our report is its attempt to investigate the specific group of COVID-19 patients admitted to a SICU. In Italy, SICUs receive acutely ill, spontaneously breathing patients who need (invasive) hemodynamic monitoring, vasoactive medication, renal replacement therapy, chest- tube placement, thrombolysis, and respiratory noninvasive support. The nurse-to-patient ratio is higher than for general wards (usually 1 nurse to every 4 or 5 patients), though lower than for ICUs. In northern Italy, a great number of COVID-19 patients have required this kind of high-intensity care during the pandemic: Noninvasive ventilation support had to be maintained for several days, pronation maneuvers required a high number of people 2 or 3 times a day, and strict monitoring had to be assured. The SICU setting allows patients to buy time as a bridge to progressive reduction of pulmonary involvement, sometimes preventing the need for intubation.

The high prevalence of negative outcomes in the SICU underlines the complexity of COVID-19 patients in this setting. In fact, published data about mortality for patients with severe COVID-19 pneumonia are similar to ours.^22,23

Clinical, Laboratory, and Imaging Data

Our analysis confirmed a high rate of comorbidities in COVID-19 patients²⁴ and their prognostic role with age.^25,26 A marked inflammatory milieu was a negative prognostic indicator, and associated concomitant bacterial superinfection could have led to a worse prognosis (procalcitonin was associated with negative outcomes).²⁷ The cardiovascular system was nevertheless stressed, as suggested by higher values of NT-proBNP in patients with negative outcomes, which could reflect sepsis-related systemic involvement.²⁸

It is known that the pulmonary damage caused by SARS-CoV-2 has a dynamic radiological and clinical course, with early areas of subsegmental consolidation, and bilateral ground-glass opacities predominating later in the course of the disease.²⁹ This could explain why in our population we found no specific radiological pattern leading to a worse outcome.

Medical Therapy

No specific pharmacological therapy was found to be associated with a positive outcome in our study, just like antiviral and immunomodulator therapies failed to demonstrate effectiveness in subsequent pandemic surges. The low statistical power of our study did not allow us to give insight into the effectiveness of steroids and heparin at any dosage.

PEEP Support and Prone Positioning

Continuous positive airway pressure was initiated in the majority of patients and maintained for several days. This was an absolute novelty, because we rarely had to keep patients in helmets for long. This was feasible thanks to the SICU’s high nurse-to-patient ratio and the possibility of providing monitored sedation. Patients who could no longer tolerate CPAP helmets or did not improve with CPAP support were evaluated with anesthetists for programming further management. No initial data on respiratory rate, level of hypoxemia, or oxygen support need (level of PEEP and Fio₂) could discriminate between outcomes.

Prone positioning during CPAP was implemented in 42% of our study population: P/F ratio amelioration after prone positioning was highly variable, ranging from very good P/F ratio improvements to few responses or no response. No significantly greater delta P/F ratio was seen after the first prone positioning cycle in patients who had a positive outcome, probably due to the small size of our population, but we observed a clear positive trend. Interestingly, patients showing a negative outcome had a lower percentage of long-term responses to prone positioning: 6 hours after resupination, they lost the benefit of prone positioning in terms of P/F ratio amelioration. Similarly, a greater number of patients tolerating prone positioning had a positive outcome. These data give insight on the possible benefits of prone positioning in a noninvasively supported cohort of patients, which has been mentioned in previous studies.^30,31

Outcomes and Variables Associated With Negative Outcomes

After correction for age and sex, we found in multiple regression analysis that higher D-dimer and LDH values, lymphopenia, and history of diabetes were independently associated with a worse outcome. Although our results had low statistical significance, we consider the trend of the obtained odds ratios important from a clinical point of view. These results could lead to greater attention being placed on COVID-19 patients who present with these characteristics upon their arrival to the ED because they have increased risk of death or intensive care need. Clinicians should consider SICU admission for these patients in order to guarantee closer monitoring and possibly more aggressive ventilatory treatments, earlier pronation, or earlier transfer to the ICU.

Limitations

The major limitation to our study is undoubtedly its statistical power, due to its relatively low patient population. Particularly, the small number of patients who underwent pronation did not allow speculation about the efficacy of this technique, although preliminary data seem promising. However, ours is among the first studies regarding patients with COVID-19 admitted to a SICU, and these preliminary data truthfully describe the Italian, and perhaps international, experience with the first surge of the pandemic.

Conclusions

Our data highlight the primary role of the SICU in COVID-19 in adequately treating critically ill patients who have high care needs different from intubation, and who require noninvasive ventilation for prolonged times as well as frequent pronation cycles. This setting of care may represent a valid, reliable, and effective option for critically ill respiratory patients. History of diabetes, lymphopenia, and high D-dimer and LDH values are independently associated with negative outcomes, and patients presenting with these characteristics should be strictly monitored.

Acknowledgments: The authors thank the Informatica System S.R.L., as well as Allessando Mendolia for the pro bono creation of the ISCovidCollect data collecting app.

Corresponding author: Sara Abram, MD, via Coppino, 12100 Cuneo, Italy; [email protected].

Disclosures: None.

Equitable Standards for All Patients in a Crisis

Health care delivered during a pandemic instantiates medicine’s perspectives on the value of human life in clinical scenarios where resource allocation is limited. The COVID-19 pandemic has fostered dialogue and debate around the ethical principles that underly such resource allocation, which generally balance (1) utilitarian optimization of resources, (2) equality or equity in health access, (3) the instrumental value of individuals as agents in society, and (4) prioritizing the “worst off” in their natural history of disease.^1,2 State legislatures and health systems have responded to the challeges posed by COVID-19 by considering both the scarcity of intensive care resources, such as mechanical ventilation and hemodialysis, and the clinical criteria to be used for determining which patients should receive said resources. These crisis guidelines have yielded several concerning themes vis-à-vis equitable distribution of health care resources, particularly when the disability status of patients is considered alongside life-expectancy or quality of life.³

Crisis standards of care (CSC) prioritize population-level health under a utilitarian paradigm, explicitly maximizing “life-years” within a population of patients rather than the life of any individual patient.⁴ Debated during initial COVID surges, these CSC guidelines have recently been enacted at the state level in several settings, including Alaska and Idaho.⁵ In a setting with scarce intensive care resources, balancing health equity in access to these resources against population-based survival metrics has been a challenge for commissions considering CSC.^6,7 This need for balance has further promoted systemic views of “disability,” raising concern for structural “ableism” and highlighting the need for greater “ability awareness” in clinicians’ continued professional learning.

Structural Ableism: Defining Perspectives to Address Health Equity

Ableism has been defined as “a system that places value on people’s bodies and minds, based on societally constructed ideas of normalcy, intelligence, excellence, and productivity…[and] leads to people and society determining who is valuable and worthy based on their appearance and/or their ability to satisfactorily [re]produce, excel, and ‘behave.’”⁸ Regarding CSC, concerns about systemic bias in guideline design were raised early by disability advocacy groups during comment periods.^9,10 More broadly, concerns about ableism sit alongside many deeply rooted societal perspectives of disabled individuals as pitiable or, conversely, heroic for having “overcome” their disability in some way. As a physician who sits in a manual wheelchair with paraplegia and mobility impairment, I have equally been subject to inappropriate bias and inappropriate praise for living in a wheelchair. I have also wondered, alongside my patients living with different levels of mobility or ability, why others often view us as “worse off.” Addressing directly whether disabled individuals are “worse off,” disability rights attorney and advocate Harriet McBryde Johnson has articulated a predominant sentiment among persons living with unique or different abilities:

Are we “worse off”? I don’t think so. Not in any meaningful way. There are too many variables. For those of us with congenital conditions, disability shapes all we are. Those disabled later in life adapt. We take constraints that no one would choose and build rich and satisfying lives within them. We enjoy pleasures other people enjoy and pleasures peculiarly our own. We have something the world needs.¹¹

Many physician colleagues have common, invisible diseases such as diabetes and heart disease; fewer colleagues share conditions that are as visible as my spinal cord injury, as readily apparent to patients upon my entry to their hospital rooms. This simultaneous and inescapable identity as both patient and provider has afforded me wonderful doctor-patient interactions, particularly with those patients who appreciate how my patient experience impacts my ability to partially understand theirs. However, this simultaneous identity as doctor and patient also informed my personal and professional concerns regarding structural ableism as I considered scoring my own acutely ill hospital medicine patients with CSC triage scores in April 2020.

As a practicing hospital medicine physician, I have been emboldened by the efforts of my fellow clinicians amid COVID-19; their efforts have reaffirmed all the reasons I pursued a career in medicine. However, when I heard my clinical colleagues’ first explanation of the Massachusetts CSC guidelines in April 2020, I raised my hand to ask whether the “life-years” to which the guidelines referred were quality-adjusted. My concern regarding the implicit use of quality-adjusted life years (QALY) or disability-adjusted life years in clinical decision-making and implementation of these guidelines was validated when no clinical leaders could address this question directly. Sitting on the CSC committee for my hospital during this time was an honor. However, it was disconcerting to hear many clinicians’ unease when estimating mean survival for common chronic diseases, ranging from end-stage renal disease to advanced heart failure. If my expert colleagues, clinical specialists in kidney and heart disease, could not confidently apply mean survival estimates to multimorbid hospital patients, then idiosyncratic clinical judgment was sure to have a heavy hand in any calculation of “life-years.” Thus, my primary concern was that clinicians using triage heuristics would be subject to bias, regardless of their intention, and negatively adjust for the quality of a disabled life in their CSC triage scoring. My secondary concern was that the CSC guidelines themselves included systemic bias against disabled individuals.

According to CSC schema, triage scores index heavily on Sequential Organ Failure Assessment (SOFA) scores to define short-term survival; SOFA scores are partially driven by the Glasgow Coma Scale (GCS). Following professional and public comment periods, CSC guidelines in Massachusetts were revised to, among other critical points of revision, change prognostic estimation via “life years” in favor of generic estimation of short-term survival (Table). I wondered, if I presented to an emergency department with severe COVID-19 and was scored with the GCS for the purpose of making a CSC ventilator triage decision, how would my complete paraplegia and lower-extremity motor impairment be accounted for by a clinician assessing “best motor response” in the GCS? The purpose of these scores is to act algorithmically, to guide clinicians whose cognitive load and time limitations may not allow for adjustment of these algorithms based on the individual patient in front of them. Individualization of clinical decisions is part of medicine’s art, but is difficult in the best of times and no easier during a crisis in care delivery. As CSC triage scores were amended and addended throughout 2020, I returned to the COVID wards, time and again wondering, “What have we learned about systemic bias and health inequity in the CSC process and the pandemic broadly, with specific regard to disability?”

Ability Awareness: Room for Our Improvement

Unfortunately, there is reason to believe that clinical judgment is impaired by structural ableism. In seminal work on this topic, Gerhart et al¹² demonstrated that clinicians considered spinal cord injury (SCI) survivors to have low self-perceptions of worthiness, overall negative attitudes, and low self-esteem as compared to able-bodied individuals. However, surveyed SCI survivors generally had similar self-perceptions of worth and positivity as compared to ”able-bodied” clinicians.¹² For providers who care for persons with disabilities, the majority (82.4%) have rated their disabled patients’ quality of life as worse.¹³ It is no wonder that patients with disabilities are more likely to feel that their doctor-patient relationship is impacted by lack of understanding, negative sentiment, or simple lack of listening.¹⁴ Generally, this poor doctor-patient relationship with disabled patients is exacerbated by poor exposure of medical trainees to disability education; only 34.2% of internal medicine residents recall any form of disability education in medical school, while only 52% of medical school deans report having disability educational content in their curricula.^15,16 There is a similar lack of disability representation in the population of medical trainees themselves. While approximately 20% of the American population lives with a disability, less than 2% of American medical students have a disability.^17-19

While representation of disabled populations in medical practice remains poor, disabled patients are generally less likely to receive age-appropriate prevention, appropriate access to care, and equal access to treatment.^20-22 “Diagnostic overshadowing” refers to clinicians’ attribution of nonspecific signs or symptoms to a patient’s chronic disability as opposed to acute illness.²³ This phenomenon has led to higher rates of preventable malignancy in disabled patients and misattribution of common somatic symptoms to intellectual disability.^24,25 With this disparity in place as status quo for health care delivery to disabled populations, it is no surprise that certain portions of the disabled population have accounted for disproportionate mortality due to COVID-19.^26,27Disability advocates have called for “nothing about us without us,” a phrase associated with the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Understanding the profound neurodiversity among several forms of sensory and cognitive disabilities, as well as the functional difference between cognitive disabilities, mobility impairment, and inability to meet one’s instrumental activities of daily living independently, others have proposed a unique approach to certain disabled populations in COVID care.²⁸ My own perspective is that definite progress may require a more general understanding of the prevalence of disability by clinicians, both via medical training and by directly addressing health equity for disabled populations in such calculations as the CSC. Systemic ableism is apparent in our most common clinical scoring systems, ranging from the GCS and Functional Assessment Staging Table to the Eastern Cooperative Oncology Group and Karnofsky Performance Status scales. I have reexamined these scoring systems in my own understanding given their general equation of ambulation with ability or normalcy. As a doctor in a manual wheelchair who values greatly my personal quality of life and professional contribution to patient care, I worry that these scoring systems inherently discount my own equitable access to care. Individualization of patients’ particular abilities in the context of these scales must occur alongside evidence-based, guideline-directed management via these scoring systems.

Conclusion: Future Orientation

Updated CSC guidelines have accounted for the unique considerations of disabled patients by effectively caveating their scoring algorithms, directing clinicians via disclaimers to uniquely consider their disabled patients in clinical judgement. This is a first step, but it is also one that erodes the value of algorithms, which generally obviate more deliberative thinking and individualization. For our patients who lack certain abilities, as CSC continue to be activated in several states, we have an opportunity to pursue more inherently equitable solutions before further suffering accrues.²⁹ By way of example, adaptations to scoring systems that leverage QALYs for value-based drug pricing indices have been proposed by organizations like the Institute for Clinical and Economic Review, which proposed the Equal-Value-of Life-Years-Gained framework to inform QALY-based arbitration of drug pricing.³⁰ This is not a perfect rubric but instead represents an attempt to balance consideration of drugs, as has been done with ventilators during the pandemic, as a scare and expensive resource while addressing the just concerns of advocacy groups in structural ableism.

Resource stewardship during a crisis should not discount those states of human life that are perceived to be less desirable, particularly if they are not experienced as less desirable but are experienced uniquely. Instead, we should consider equitably measuring our intervention to match a patient’s needs, as we would dose-adjust a medication for renal function or consider minimally invasive procedures for multimorbid patients. COVID-19 has reflected our profession’s ethical adaptation during crisis as resources have become scarce; there is no better time to define solutions for health equity. We should now be concerned equally by the influence our personal biases have on our clinical practice and by the way in which these crisis standards will influence patients’ perception of and trust in their care providers during periods of perceived plentiful resources in the future. Health care resources are always limited, allocated according to societal values; if we value health equity for people of all abilities, then we will consider these abilities equitably as we pursue new standards for health care delivery.

Corresponding author: Gregory D. Snyder, MD, MBA, 2014 Washington Street, Newton, MA 02462; [email protected].

Disclosures: None.
 

Equitable Standards for All Patients in a Crisis

Health care delivered during a pandemic instantiates medicine’s perspectives on the value of human life in clinical scenarios where resource allocation is limited. The COVID-19 pandemic has fostered dialogue and debate around the ethical principles that underly such resource allocation, which generally balance (1) utilitarian optimization of resources, (2) equality or equity in health access, (3) the instrumental value of individuals as agents in society, and (4) prioritizing the “worst off” in their natural history of disease.^1,2 State legislatures and health systems have responded to the challeges posed by COVID-19 by considering both the scarcity of intensive care resources, such as mechanical ventilation and hemodialysis, and the clinical criteria to be used for determining which patients should receive said resources. These crisis guidelines have yielded several concerning themes vis-à-vis equitable distribution of health care resources, particularly when the disability status of patients is considered alongside life-expectancy or quality of life.³

Crisis standards of care (CSC) prioritize population-level health under a utilitarian paradigm, explicitly maximizing “life-years” within a population of patients rather than the life of any individual patient.⁴ Debated during initial COVID surges, these CSC guidelines have recently been enacted at the state level in several settings, including Alaska and Idaho.⁵ In a setting with scarce intensive care resources, balancing health equity in access to these resources against population-based survival metrics has been a challenge for commissions considering CSC.^6,7 This need for balance has further promoted systemic views of “disability,” raising concern for structural “ableism” and highlighting the need for greater “ability awareness” in clinicians’ continued professional learning.

Structural Ableism: Defining Perspectives to Address Health Equity

Ableism has been defined as “a system that places value on people’s bodies and minds, based on societally constructed ideas of normalcy, intelligence, excellence, and productivity…[and] leads to people and society determining who is valuable and worthy based on their appearance and/or their ability to satisfactorily [re]produce, excel, and ‘behave.’”⁸ Regarding CSC, concerns about systemic bias in guideline design were raised early by disability advocacy groups during comment periods.^9,10 More broadly, concerns about ableism sit alongside many deeply rooted societal perspectives of disabled individuals as pitiable or, conversely, heroic for having “overcome” their disability in some way. As a physician who sits in a manual wheelchair with paraplegia and mobility impairment, I have equally been subject to inappropriate bias and inappropriate praise for living in a wheelchair. I have also wondered, alongside my patients living with different levels of mobility or ability, why others often view us as “worse off.” Addressing directly whether disabled individuals are “worse off,” disability rights attorney and advocate Harriet McBryde Johnson has articulated a predominant sentiment among persons living with unique or different abilities:

Are we “worse off”? I don’t think so. Not in any meaningful way. There are too many variables. For those of us with congenital conditions, disability shapes all we are. Those disabled later in life adapt. We take constraints that no one would choose and build rich and satisfying lives within them. We enjoy pleasures other people enjoy and pleasures peculiarly our own. We have something the world needs.¹¹

Many physician colleagues have common, invisible diseases such as diabetes and heart disease; fewer colleagues share conditions that are as visible as my spinal cord injury, as readily apparent to patients upon my entry to their hospital rooms. This simultaneous and inescapable identity as both patient and provider has afforded me wonderful doctor-patient interactions, particularly with those patients who appreciate how my patient experience impacts my ability to partially understand theirs. However, this simultaneous identity as doctor and patient also informed my personal and professional concerns regarding structural ableism as I considered scoring my own acutely ill hospital medicine patients with CSC triage scores in April 2020.

As a practicing hospital medicine physician, I have been emboldened by the efforts of my fellow clinicians amid COVID-19; their efforts have reaffirmed all the reasons I pursued a career in medicine. However, when I heard my clinical colleagues’ first explanation of the Massachusetts CSC guidelines in April 2020, I raised my hand to ask whether the “life-years” to which the guidelines referred were quality-adjusted. My concern regarding the implicit use of quality-adjusted life years (QALY) or disability-adjusted life years in clinical decision-making and implementation of these guidelines was validated when no clinical leaders could address this question directly. Sitting on the CSC committee for my hospital during this time was an honor. However, it was disconcerting to hear many clinicians’ unease when estimating mean survival for common chronic diseases, ranging from end-stage renal disease to advanced heart failure. If my expert colleagues, clinical specialists in kidney and heart disease, could not confidently apply mean survival estimates to multimorbid hospital patients, then idiosyncratic clinical judgment was sure to have a heavy hand in any calculation of “life-years.” Thus, my primary concern was that clinicians using triage heuristics would be subject to bias, regardless of their intention, and negatively adjust for the quality of a disabled life in their CSC triage scoring. My secondary concern was that the CSC guidelines themselves included systemic bias against disabled individuals.

According to CSC schema, triage scores index heavily on Sequential Organ Failure Assessment (SOFA) scores to define short-term survival; SOFA scores are partially driven by the Glasgow Coma Scale (GCS). Following professional and public comment periods, CSC guidelines in Massachusetts were revised to, among other critical points of revision, change prognostic estimation via “life years” in favor of generic estimation of short-term survival (Table). I wondered, if I presented to an emergency department with severe COVID-19 and was scored with the GCS for the purpose of making a CSC ventilator triage decision, how would my complete paraplegia and lower-extremity motor impairment be accounted for by a clinician assessing “best motor response” in the GCS? The purpose of these scores is to act algorithmically, to guide clinicians whose cognitive load and time limitations may not allow for adjustment of these algorithms based on the individual patient in front of them. Individualization of clinical decisions is part of medicine’s art, but is difficult in the best of times and no easier during a crisis in care delivery. As CSC triage scores were amended and addended throughout 2020, I returned to the COVID wards, time and again wondering, “What have we learned about systemic bias and health inequity in the CSC process and the pandemic broadly, with specific regard to disability?”

Ability Awareness: Room for Our Improvement

Unfortunately, there is reason to believe that clinical judgment is impaired by structural ableism. In seminal work on this topic, Gerhart et al¹² demonstrated that clinicians considered spinal cord injury (SCI) survivors to have low self-perceptions of worthiness, overall negative attitudes, and low self-esteem as compared to able-bodied individuals. However, surveyed SCI survivors generally had similar self-perceptions of worth and positivity as compared to ”able-bodied” clinicians.¹² For providers who care for persons with disabilities, the majority (82.4%) have rated their disabled patients’ quality of life as worse.¹³ It is no wonder that patients with disabilities are more likely to feel that their doctor-patient relationship is impacted by lack of understanding, negative sentiment, or simple lack of listening.¹⁴ Generally, this poor doctor-patient relationship with disabled patients is exacerbated by poor exposure of medical trainees to disability education; only 34.2% of internal medicine residents recall any form of disability education in medical school, while only 52% of medical school deans report having disability educational content in their curricula.^15,16 There is a similar lack of disability representation in the population of medical trainees themselves. While approximately 20% of the American population lives with a disability, less than 2% of American medical students have a disability.^17-19

While representation of disabled populations in medical practice remains poor, disabled patients are generally less likely to receive age-appropriate prevention, appropriate access to care, and equal access to treatment.^20-22 “Diagnostic overshadowing” refers to clinicians’ attribution of nonspecific signs or symptoms to a patient’s chronic disability as opposed to acute illness.²³ This phenomenon has led to higher rates of preventable malignancy in disabled patients and misattribution of common somatic symptoms to intellectual disability.^24,25 With this disparity in place as status quo for health care delivery to disabled populations, it is no surprise that certain portions of the disabled population have accounted for disproportionate mortality due to COVID-19.^26,27Disability advocates have called for “nothing about us without us,” a phrase associated with the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Understanding the profound neurodiversity among several forms of sensory and cognitive disabilities, as well as the functional difference between cognitive disabilities, mobility impairment, and inability to meet one’s instrumental activities of daily living independently, others have proposed a unique approach to certain disabled populations in COVID care.²⁸ My own perspective is that definite progress may require a more general understanding of the prevalence of disability by clinicians, both via medical training and by directly addressing health equity for disabled populations in such calculations as the CSC. Systemic ableism is apparent in our most common clinical scoring systems, ranging from the GCS and Functional Assessment Staging Table to the Eastern Cooperative Oncology Group and Karnofsky Performance Status scales. I have reexamined these scoring systems in my own understanding given their general equation of ambulation with ability or normalcy. As a doctor in a manual wheelchair who values greatly my personal quality of life and professional contribution to patient care, I worry that these scoring systems inherently discount my own equitable access to care. Individualization of patients’ particular abilities in the context of these scales must occur alongside evidence-based, guideline-directed management via these scoring systems.

Conclusion: Future Orientation

Updated CSC guidelines have accounted for the unique considerations of disabled patients by effectively caveating their scoring algorithms, directing clinicians via disclaimers to uniquely consider their disabled patients in clinical judgement. This is a first step, but it is also one that erodes the value of algorithms, which generally obviate more deliberative thinking and individualization. For our patients who lack certain abilities, as CSC continue to be activated in several states, we have an opportunity to pursue more inherently equitable solutions before further suffering accrues.²⁹ By way of example, adaptations to scoring systems that leverage QALYs for value-based drug pricing indices have been proposed by organizations like the Institute for Clinical and Economic Review, which proposed the Equal-Value-of Life-Years-Gained framework to inform QALY-based arbitration of drug pricing.³⁰ This is not a perfect rubric but instead represents an attempt to balance consideration of drugs, as has been done with ventilators during the pandemic, as a scare and expensive resource while addressing the just concerns of advocacy groups in structural ableism.

Resource stewardship during a crisis should not discount those states of human life that are perceived to be less desirable, particularly if they are not experienced as less desirable but are experienced uniquely. Instead, we should consider equitably measuring our intervention to match a patient’s needs, as we would dose-adjust a medication for renal function or consider minimally invasive procedures for multimorbid patients. COVID-19 has reflected our profession’s ethical adaptation during crisis as resources have become scarce; there is no better time to define solutions for health equity. We should now be concerned equally by the influence our personal biases have on our clinical practice and by the way in which these crisis standards will influence patients’ perception of and trust in their care providers during periods of perceived plentiful resources in the future. Health care resources are always limited, allocated according to societal values; if we value health equity for people of all abilities, then we will consider these abilities equitably as we pursue new standards for health care delivery.

Corresponding author: Gregory D. Snyder, MD, MBA, 2014 Washington Street, Newton, MA 02462; [email protected].

Disclosures: None.
 

Equitable Standards for All Patients in a Crisis

Health care delivered during a pandemic instantiates medicine’s perspectives on the value of human life in clinical scenarios where resource allocation is limited. The COVID-19 pandemic has fostered dialogue and debate around the ethical principles that underly such resource allocation, which generally balance (1) utilitarian optimization of resources, (2) equality or equity in health access, (3) the instrumental value of individuals as agents in society, and (4) prioritizing the “worst off” in their natural history of disease.^1,2 State legislatures and health systems have responded to the challeges posed by COVID-19 by considering both the scarcity of intensive care resources, such as mechanical ventilation and hemodialysis, and the clinical criteria to be used for determining which patients should receive said resources. These crisis guidelines have yielded several concerning themes vis-à-vis equitable distribution of health care resources, particularly when the disability status of patients is considered alongside life-expectancy or quality of life.³

Crisis standards of care (CSC) prioritize population-level health under a utilitarian paradigm, explicitly maximizing “life-years” within a population of patients rather than the life of any individual patient.⁴ Debated during initial COVID surges, these CSC guidelines have recently been enacted at the state level in several settings, including Alaska and Idaho.⁵ In a setting with scarce intensive care resources, balancing health equity in access to these resources against population-based survival metrics has been a challenge for commissions considering CSC.^6,7 This need for balance has further promoted systemic views of “disability,” raising concern for structural “ableism” and highlighting the need for greater “ability awareness” in clinicians’ continued professional learning.

Structural Ableism: Defining Perspectives to Address Health Equity

Ableism has been defined as “a system that places value on people’s bodies and minds, based on societally constructed ideas of normalcy, intelligence, excellence, and productivity…[and] leads to people and society determining who is valuable and worthy based on their appearance and/or their ability to satisfactorily [re]produce, excel, and ‘behave.’”⁸ Regarding CSC, concerns about systemic bias in guideline design were raised early by disability advocacy groups during comment periods.^9,10 More broadly, concerns about ableism sit alongside many deeply rooted societal perspectives of disabled individuals as pitiable or, conversely, heroic for having “overcome” their disability in some way. As a physician who sits in a manual wheelchair with paraplegia and mobility impairment, I have equally been subject to inappropriate bias and inappropriate praise for living in a wheelchair. I have also wondered, alongside my patients living with different levels of mobility or ability, why others often view us as “worse off.” Addressing directly whether disabled individuals are “worse off,” disability rights attorney and advocate Harriet McBryde Johnson has articulated a predominant sentiment among persons living with unique or different abilities:

Are we “worse off”? I don’t think so. Not in any meaningful way. There are too many variables. For those of us with congenital conditions, disability shapes all we are. Those disabled later in life adapt. We take constraints that no one would choose and build rich and satisfying lives within them. We enjoy pleasures other people enjoy and pleasures peculiarly our own. We have something the world needs.¹¹

Many physician colleagues have common, invisible diseases such as diabetes and heart disease; fewer colleagues share conditions that are as visible as my spinal cord injury, as readily apparent to patients upon my entry to their hospital rooms. This simultaneous and inescapable identity as both patient and provider has afforded me wonderful doctor-patient interactions, particularly with those patients who appreciate how my patient experience impacts my ability to partially understand theirs. However, this simultaneous identity as doctor and patient also informed my personal and professional concerns regarding structural ableism as I considered scoring my own acutely ill hospital medicine patients with CSC triage scores in April 2020.

As a practicing hospital medicine physician, I have been emboldened by the efforts of my fellow clinicians amid COVID-19; their efforts have reaffirmed all the reasons I pursued a career in medicine. However, when I heard my clinical colleagues’ first explanation of the Massachusetts CSC guidelines in April 2020, I raised my hand to ask whether the “life-years” to which the guidelines referred were quality-adjusted. My concern regarding the implicit use of quality-adjusted life years (QALY) or disability-adjusted life years in clinical decision-making and implementation of these guidelines was validated when no clinical leaders could address this question directly. Sitting on the CSC committee for my hospital during this time was an honor. However, it was disconcerting to hear many clinicians’ unease when estimating mean survival for common chronic diseases, ranging from end-stage renal disease to advanced heart failure. If my expert colleagues, clinical specialists in kidney and heart disease, could not confidently apply mean survival estimates to multimorbid hospital patients, then idiosyncratic clinical judgment was sure to have a heavy hand in any calculation of “life-years.” Thus, my primary concern was that clinicians using triage heuristics would be subject to bias, regardless of their intention, and negatively adjust for the quality of a disabled life in their CSC triage scoring. My secondary concern was that the CSC guidelines themselves included systemic bias against disabled individuals.

According to CSC schema, triage scores index heavily on Sequential Organ Failure Assessment (SOFA) scores to define short-term survival; SOFA scores are partially driven by the Glasgow Coma Scale (GCS). Following professional and public comment periods, CSC guidelines in Massachusetts were revised to, among other critical points of revision, change prognostic estimation via “life years” in favor of generic estimation of short-term survival (Table). I wondered, if I presented to an emergency department with severe COVID-19 and was scored with the GCS for the purpose of making a CSC ventilator triage decision, how would my complete paraplegia and lower-extremity motor impairment be accounted for by a clinician assessing “best motor response” in the GCS? The purpose of these scores is to act algorithmically, to guide clinicians whose cognitive load and time limitations may not allow for adjustment of these algorithms based on the individual patient in front of them. Individualization of clinical decisions is part of medicine’s art, but is difficult in the best of times and no easier during a crisis in care delivery. As CSC triage scores were amended and addended throughout 2020, I returned to the COVID wards, time and again wondering, “What have we learned about systemic bias and health inequity in the CSC process and the pandemic broadly, with specific regard to disability?”

Ability Awareness: Room for Our Improvement

Unfortunately, there is reason to believe that clinical judgment is impaired by structural ableism. In seminal work on this topic, Gerhart et al¹² demonstrated that clinicians considered spinal cord injury (SCI) survivors to have low self-perceptions of worthiness, overall negative attitudes, and low self-esteem as compared to able-bodied individuals. However, surveyed SCI survivors generally had similar self-perceptions of worth and positivity as compared to ”able-bodied” clinicians.¹² For providers who care for persons with disabilities, the majority (82.4%) have rated their disabled patients’ quality of life as worse.¹³ It is no wonder that patients with disabilities are more likely to feel that their doctor-patient relationship is impacted by lack of understanding, negative sentiment, or simple lack of listening.¹⁴ Generally, this poor doctor-patient relationship with disabled patients is exacerbated by poor exposure of medical trainees to disability education; only 34.2% of internal medicine residents recall any form of disability education in medical school, while only 52% of medical school deans report having disability educational content in their curricula.^15,16 There is a similar lack of disability representation in the population of medical trainees themselves. While approximately 20% of the American population lives with a disability, less than 2% of American medical students have a disability.^17-19

While representation of disabled populations in medical practice remains poor, disabled patients are generally less likely to receive age-appropriate prevention, appropriate access to care, and equal access to treatment.^20-22 “Diagnostic overshadowing” refers to clinicians’ attribution of nonspecific signs or symptoms to a patient’s chronic disability as opposed to acute illness.²³ This phenomenon has led to higher rates of preventable malignancy in disabled patients and misattribution of common somatic symptoms to intellectual disability.^24,25 With this disparity in place as status quo for health care delivery to disabled populations, it is no surprise that certain portions of the disabled population have accounted for disproportionate mortality due to COVID-19.^26,27Disability advocates have called for “nothing about us without us,” a phrase associated with the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Understanding the profound neurodiversity among several forms of sensory and cognitive disabilities, as well as the functional difference between cognitive disabilities, mobility impairment, and inability to meet one’s instrumental activities of daily living independently, others have proposed a unique approach to certain disabled populations in COVID care.²⁸ My own perspective is that definite progress may require a more general understanding of the prevalence of disability by clinicians, both via medical training and by directly addressing health equity for disabled populations in such calculations as the CSC. Systemic ableism is apparent in our most common clinical scoring systems, ranging from the GCS and Functional Assessment Staging Table to the Eastern Cooperative Oncology Group and Karnofsky Performance Status scales. I have reexamined these scoring systems in my own understanding given their general equation of ambulation with ability or normalcy. As a doctor in a manual wheelchair who values greatly my personal quality of life and professional contribution to patient care, I worry that these scoring systems inherently discount my own equitable access to care. Individualization of patients’ particular abilities in the context of these scales must occur alongside evidence-based, guideline-directed management via these scoring systems.

Conclusion: Future Orientation

Updated CSC guidelines have accounted for the unique considerations of disabled patients by effectively caveating their scoring algorithms, directing clinicians via disclaimers to uniquely consider their disabled patients in clinical judgement. This is a first step, but it is also one that erodes the value of algorithms, which generally obviate more deliberative thinking and individualization. For our patients who lack certain abilities, as CSC continue to be activated in several states, we have an opportunity to pursue more inherently equitable solutions before further suffering accrues.²⁹ By way of example, adaptations to scoring systems that leverage QALYs for value-based drug pricing indices have been proposed by organizations like the Institute for Clinical and Economic Review, which proposed the Equal-Value-of Life-Years-Gained framework to inform QALY-based arbitration of drug pricing.³⁰ This is not a perfect rubric but instead represents an attempt to balance consideration of drugs, as has been done with ventilators during the pandemic, as a scare and expensive resource while addressing the just concerns of advocacy groups in structural ableism.

Resource stewardship during a crisis should not discount those states of human life that are perceived to be less desirable, particularly if they are not experienced as less desirable but are experienced uniquely. Instead, we should consider equitably measuring our intervention to match a patient’s needs, as we would dose-adjust a medication for renal function or consider minimally invasive procedures for multimorbid patients. COVID-19 has reflected our profession’s ethical adaptation during crisis as resources have become scarce; there is no better time to define solutions for health equity. We should now be concerned equally by the influence our personal biases have on our clinical practice and by the way in which these crisis standards will influence patients’ perception of and trust in their care providers during periods of perceived plentiful resources in the future. Health care resources are always limited, allocated according to societal values; if we value health equity for people of all abilities, then we will consider these abilities equitably as we pursue new standards for health care delivery.

Corresponding author: Gregory D. Snyder, MD, MBA, 2014 Washington Street, Newton, MA 02462; [email protected].

Disclosures: None.
 

Study Overview

Objective: To examine the effect of the intervention “Eat Walk Engage,” a program that is designed to more consistently deliver age-friendly principles of care to older individuals in acute medical and surgical wards.

Design: This cluster randomized trial to examine the effect of an intervention in acute medical and surgical wards on older adults was conducted in 8 acute medical and surgical wards in 4 public hospitals in Australia from 2016 to 2017. To be eligible to participate in this trial, wards had to have the following: a patient population with 50% of patients aged 65 years and older; perceived alignment with hospital priorities; and nurse manager agreement to participation. Randomization was stratified by hospital, resulting in 4 wards with the intervention (a general medicine ward, an orthopedic ward, a general surgery ward, and a respiratory medicine ward) and 4 control wards (2 general medicine wards, a respiratory medicine ward, and a general surgery ward). Participants were consecutive inpatients aged 65 years or older who were admitted to the ward for at least 3 consecutive days during the study time period. Exclusion criteria included terminal or critical illness, severe cognitive impairment without a surrogate decision-maker, non-English speaking, or previously enrolled in the trial. Of a total of 453 patients who were eligible from the intervention wards, 188 were excluded and 6 died, yielding 259 participants in the intervention group. There were 413 patients eligible from the control wards, with 139 excluded and 3 deaths, yielding 271 participants in the control group.

Intervention: The intervention, called “Eat Walk Engage,” was developed to target older adults at risk for hospital-associated complications of delirium, functional decline, pressure injuries, falls, and incontinence, and aimed to improve care practices, environment, and culture to support age-friendly principles. This ward-based program delivered a structured improvement intervention through a site facilitator who is a nurse or allied health professional. The site facilitator identified opportunities for improvement using structured assessments of context, patient-experience interviews, and audits of care processes, and engaged an interdisciplinary working group from the intervention wards to participate in an hour-per-month meeting to develop plans for iterative improvements. Each site developed their own intervention plan; examples of interventions include shifting priorities to enable staff to increase the proportion of patients sitting in a chair for meals; designating the patient lounge as a walking destination to increase the proportion of time patients spend mobile; and using orientation boards and small groups to engage older patients in meaningful activities.

Main outcome measures: Study outcome measures included hospital-associated complications for older people, which is a composite of hospital-associated delirium, hospital-associated disability, hospital-associated incontinence, and fall or pressure injury during hospitalization. Delirium was assessed using the 3-minute diagnostic interview for Confusion Assessment Method (3D-CAM); hospital-associated disability was defined as new disability at discharge compared to 2 weeks prior to hospitalization. The primary outcome was defined as incidence of any complications and hospital length of stay. Secondary outcomes included incidence of individual complications, hospital discharge to facility, mortality at 6 months, and readmission for any cause at 6 months.

Main results: Patient characteristics for the intervention and control groups, respectively, were: 47% women with a mean age of 75.9 years (SD, 7.3), and 53% women with a mean age of 78.0 years (SD, 8.2). For the primary outcome, 46.4% of participants in the intervention group experienced any hospital complications compared with 51.8% in the control group (odds ratio [OR], 1.07; 95% CI, 0.71-1.61). The incidence of delirium was lower in the intervention group as compared with the control group (15.9% vs 31.4%; OR, 0.53; 95% CI, 0.31-0.90), while there were no other differences in the incidence rates of other complications. There was also no difference in hospital length of stay; median length of stay in the intervention group was 6 days (interquartile range [IQR], 4-9 days) compared with 7 days in the control group (IQR, 5-10), with an estimated mean difference in length of stay of 0.16 days (95% CI, –0.43 to 0.78 days). There was also no significant difference in mortality or all-cause readmission at 6 months.

Conclusion: The intervention “Eat Walk Engage” did not reduce hospital-associated complications overall or hospital length of stay, but it did reduce the incidence of hospital-associated delirium.

Older adults, often with reduced physiologic reserve, when admitted to the hospital with an acute illness may be vulnerable to potential hazards of hospitalization, such as complications from prolonged periods of immobility, pressure injury, and delirium.¹ Models of care in the inpatient setting to reduce these hazards, including the Acute Care for the Elderly model and the Mobile Acute Care for the Elderly Team model, have been examined in clinical trials.^2,3 Specifically, models of care to prevent and treat delirium have been developed and tested over the past decade.⁴ The effect of these models in improving function, reducing complications, and reducing delirium incidence has been well documented. The present study adds to the literature by testing a model that utilizes implementation science methods to take into account real-world settings. In contrast with prior models-of-care studies, the implementation of the intervention at each ward was not prescriptive, but rather was developed in each ward in an iterative manner with stakeholder input. The advantage of this approach is that engagement of stakeholders at each intervention ward obtains buy-in from staff, mobilizing staff in a way that a prescriptive model of care may not; this ultimately may lead to longer-lasting change. The iterative approach also allows for the intervention to be adapted to conditions and settings over time. Other studies have taken this approach of using implementation science to drive change.⁵ Although the intervention in the present study failed to improve the primary outcome, it did reduce the incidence of delirium, which is a significant outcome and one that may confer considerable benefits to older adults under the model’s care.

A limitation of the intervention’s nonprescriptive approach is that, because of the variation of the interventions across sites, it is difficult to discern what elements drove the clinical outcomes. In addition, it would be challenging to consider what aspects of the intervention did not work should refinement or changes be needed. How one may measure fidelity to the intervention or how well a site implements the intervention and its relationship with clinical outcomes will need to be examined further.

Application for Clinical Practice

Clinicians look to effective models of care to improve clinical outcomes for older adults in the hospital. The intervention described in this study offers a real-world approach that may need less upfront investment than other recently studied models, such as the Acute Care for the Elderly model, which requires structural and staffing enhancements. Clinicians and health system leaders may consider implementing this model to improve the care delivered to older adults in the hospital as it may help reduce the incidence of delirium among the older adults they serve.

–William W. Hung, MD, MPH

Disclosures: None.

 

Study Overview

Objective: To examine the effect of the intervention “Eat Walk Engage,” a program that is designed to more consistently deliver age-friendly principles of care to older individuals in acute medical and surgical wards.

Design: This cluster randomized trial to examine the effect of an intervention in acute medical and surgical wards on older adults was conducted in 8 acute medical and surgical wards in 4 public hospitals in Australia from 2016 to 2017. To be eligible to participate in this trial, wards had to have the following: a patient population with 50% of patients aged 65 years and older; perceived alignment with hospital priorities; and nurse manager agreement to participation. Randomization was stratified by hospital, resulting in 4 wards with the intervention (a general medicine ward, an orthopedic ward, a general surgery ward, and a respiratory medicine ward) and 4 control wards (2 general medicine wards, a respiratory medicine ward, and a general surgery ward). Participants were consecutive inpatients aged 65 years or older who were admitted to the ward for at least 3 consecutive days during the study time period. Exclusion criteria included terminal or critical illness, severe cognitive impairment without a surrogate decision-maker, non-English speaking, or previously enrolled in the trial. Of a total of 453 patients who were eligible from the intervention wards, 188 were excluded and 6 died, yielding 259 participants in the intervention group. There were 413 patients eligible from the control wards, with 139 excluded and 3 deaths, yielding 271 participants in the control group.

Intervention: The intervention, called “Eat Walk Engage,” was developed to target older adults at risk for hospital-associated complications of delirium, functional decline, pressure injuries, falls, and incontinence, and aimed to improve care practices, environment, and culture to support age-friendly principles. This ward-based program delivered a structured improvement intervention through a site facilitator who is a nurse or allied health professional. The site facilitator identified opportunities for improvement using structured assessments of context, patient-experience interviews, and audits of care processes, and engaged an interdisciplinary working group from the intervention wards to participate in an hour-per-month meeting to develop plans for iterative improvements. Each site developed their own intervention plan; examples of interventions include shifting priorities to enable staff to increase the proportion of patients sitting in a chair for meals; designating the patient lounge as a walking destination to increase the proportion of time patients spend mobile; and using orientation boards and small groups to engage older patients in meaningful activities.

Main outcome measures: Study outcome measures included hospital-associated complications for older people, which is a composite of hospital-associated delirium, hospital-associated disability, hospital-associated incontinence, and fall or pressure injury during hospitalization. Delirium was assessed using the 3-minute diagnostic interview for Confusion Assessment Method (3D-CAM); hospital-associated disability was defined as new disability at discharge compared to 2 weeks prior to hospitalization. The primary outcome was defined as incidence of any complications and hospital length of stay. Secondary outcomes included incidence of individual complications, hospital discharge to facility, mortality at 6 months, and readmission for any cause at 6 months.

Main results: Patient characteristics for the intervention and control groups, respectively, were: 47% women with a mean age of 75.9 years (SD, 7.3), and 53% women with a mean age of 78.0 years (SD, 8.2). For the primary outcome, 46.4% of participants in the intervention group experienced any hospital complications compared with 51.8% in the control group (odds ratio [OR], 1.07; 95% CI, 0.71-1.61). The incidence of delirium was lower in the intervention group as compared with the control group (15.9% vs 31.4%; OR, 0.53; 95% CI, 0.31-0.90), while there were no other differences in the incidence rates of other complications. There was also no difference in hospital length of stay; median length of stay in the intervention group was 6 days (interquartile range [IQR], 4-9 days) compared with 7 days in the control group (IQR, 5-10), with an estimated mean difference in length of stay of 0.16 days (95% CI, –0.43 to 0.78 days). There was also no significant difference in mortality or all-cause readmission at 6 months.

Conclusion: The intervention “Eat Walk Engage” did not reduce hospital-associated complications overall or hospital length of stay, but it did reduce the incidence of hospital-associated delirium.

Older adults, often with reduced physiologic reserve, when admitted to the hospital with an acute illness may be vulnerable to potential hazards of hospitalization, such as complications from prolonged periods of immobility, pressure injury, and delirium.¹ Models of care in the inpatient setting to reduce these hazards, including the Acute Care for the Elderly model and the Mobile Acute Care for the Elderly Team model, have been examined in clinical trials.^2,3 Specifically, models of care to prevent and treat delirium have been developed and tested over the past decade.⁴ The effect of these models in improving function, reducing complications, and reducing delirium incidence has been well documented. The present study adds to the literature by testing a model that utilizes implementation science methods to take into account real-world settings. In contrast with prior models-of-care studies, the implementation of the intervention at each ward was not prescriptive, but rather was developed in each ward in an iterative manner with stakeholder input. The advantage of this approach is that engagement of stakeholders at each intervention ward obtains buy-in from staff, mobilizing staff in a way that a prescriptive model of care may not; this ultimately may lead to longer-lasting change. The iterative approach also allows for the intervention to be adapted to conditions and settings over time. Other studies have taken this approach of using implementation science to drive change.⁵ Although the intervention in the present study failed to improve the primary outcome, it did reduce the incidence of delirium, which is a significant outcome and one that may confer considerable benefits to older adults under the model’s care.

A limitation of the intervention’s nonprescriptive approach is that, because of the variation of the interventions across sites, it is difficult to discern what elements drove the clinical outcomes. In addition, it would be challenging to consider what aspects of the intervention did not work should refinement or changes be needed. How one may measure fidelity to the intervention or how well a site implements the intervention and its relationship with clinical outcomes will need to be examined further.

Application for Clinical Practice

Clinicians look to effective models of care to improve clinical outcomes for older adults in the hospital. The intervention described in this study offers a real-world approach that may need less upfront investment than other recently studied models, such as the Acute Care for the Elderly model, which requires structural and staffing enhancements. Clinicians and health system leaders may consider implementing this model to improve the care delivered to older adults in the hospital as it may help reduce the incidence of delirium among the older adults they serve.

–William W. Hung, MD, MPH

Disclosures: None.

 

Study Overview

Objective: To examine the effect of the intervention “Eat Walk Engage,” a program that is designed to more consistently deliver age-friendly principles of care to older individuals in acute medical and surgical wards.

Design: This cluster randomized trial to examine the effect of an intervention in acute medical and surgical wards on older adults was conducted in 8 acute medical and surgical wards in 4 public hospitals in Australia from 2016 to 2017. To be eligible to participate in this trial, wards had to have the following: a patient population with 50% of patients aged 65 years and older; perceived alignment with hospital priorities; and nurse manager agreement to participation. Randomization was stratified by hospital, resulting in 4 wards with the intervention (a general medicine ward, an orthopedic ward, a general surgery ward, and a respiratory medicine ward) and 4 control wards (2 general medicine wards, a respiratory medicine ward, and a general surgery ward). Participants were consecutive inpatients aged 65 years or older who were admitted to the ward for at least 3 consecutive days during the study time period. Exclusion criteria included terminal or critical illness, severe cognitive impairment without a surrogate decision-maker, non-English speaking, or previously enrolled in the trial. Of a total of 453 patients who were eligible from the intervention wards, 188 were excluded and 6 died, yielding 259 participants in the intervention group. There were 413 patients eligible from the control wards, with 139 excluded and 3 deaths, yielding 271 participants in the control group.

Intervention: The intervention, called “Eat Walk Engage,” was developed to target older adults at risk for hospital-associated complications of delirium, functional decline, pressure injuries, falls, and incontinence, and aimed to improve care practices, environment, and culture to support age-friendly principles. This ward-based program delivered a structured improvement intervention through a site facilitator who is a nurse or allied health professional. The site facilitator identified opportunities for improvement using structured assessments of context, patient-experience interviews, and audits of care processes, and engaged an interdisciplinary working group from the intervention wards to participate in an hour-per-month meeting to develop plans for iterative improvements. Each site developed their own intervention plan; examples of interventions include shifting priorities to enable staff to increase the proportion of patients sitting in a chair for meals; designating the patient lounge as a walking destination to increase the proportion of time patients spend mobile; and using orientation boards and small groups to engage older patients in meaningful activities.

Main outcome measures: Study outcome measures included hospital-associated complications for older people, which is a composite of hospital-associated delirium, hospital-associated disability, hospital-associated incontinence, and fall or pressure injury during hospitalization. Delirium was assessed using the 3-minute diagnostic interview for Confusion Assessment Method (3D-CAM); hospital-associated disability was defined as new disability at discharge compared to 2 weeks prior to hospitalization. The primary outcome was defined as incidence of any complications and hospital length of stay. Secondary outcomes included incidence of individual complications, hospital discharge to facility, mortality at 6 months, and readmission for any cause at 6 months.

Main results: Patient characteristics for the intervention and control groups, respectively, were: 47% women with a mean age of 75.9 years (SD, 7.3), and 53% women with a mean age of 78.0 years (SD, 8.2). For the primary outcome, 46.4% of participants in the intervention group experienced any hospital complications compared with 51.8% in the control group (odds ratio [OR], 1.07; 95% CI, 0.71-1.61). The incidence of delirium was lower in the intervention group as compared with the control group (15.9% vs 31.4%; OR, 0.53; 95% CI, 0.31-0.90), while there were no other differences in the incidence rates of other complications. There was also no difference in hospital length of stay; median length of stay in the intervention group was 6 days (interquartile range [IQR], 4-9 days) compared with 7 days in the control group (IQR, 5-10), with an estimated mean difference in length of stay of 0.16 days (95% CI, –0.43 to 0.78 days). There was also no significant difference in mortality or all-cause readmission at 6 months.

Conclusion: The intervention “Eat Walk Engage” did not reduce hospital-associated complications overall or hospital length of stay, but it did reduce the incidence of hospital-associated delirium.

Older adults, often with reduced physiologic reserve, when admitted to the hospital with an acute illness may be vulnerable to potential hazards of hospitalization, such as complications from prolonged periods of immobility, pressure injury, and delirium.¹ Models of care in the inpatient setting to reduce these hazards, including the Acute Care for the Elderly model and the Mobile Acute Care for the Elderly Team model, have been examined in clinical trials.^2,3 Specifically, models of care to prevent and treat delirium have been developed and tested over the past decade.⁴ The effect of these models in improving function, reducing complications, and reducing delirium incidence has been well documented. The present study adds to the literature by testing a model that utilizes implementation science methods to take into account real-world settings. In contrast with prior models-of-care studies, the implementation of the intervention at each ward was not prescriptive, but rather was developed in each ward in an iterative manner with stakeholder input. The advantage of this approach is that engagement of stakeholders at each intervention ward obtains buy-in from staff, mobilizing staff in a way that a prescriptive model of care may not; this ultimately may lead to longer-lasting change. The iterative approach also allows for the intervention to be adapted to conditions and settings over time. Other studies have taken this approach of using implementation science to drive change.⁵ Although the intervention in the present study failed to improve the primary outcome, it did reduce the incidence of delirium, which is a significant outcome and one that may confer considerable benefits to older adults under the model’s care.

A limitation of the intervention’s nonprescriptive approach is that, because of the variation of the interventions across sites, it is difficult to discern what elements drove the clinical outcomes. In addition, it would be challenging to consider what aspects of the intervention did not work should refinement or changes be needed. How one may measure fidelity to the intervention or how well a site implements the intervention and its relationship with clinical outcomes will need to be examined further.

Application for Clinical Practice

Clinicians look to effective models of care to improve clinical outcomes for older adults in the hospital. The intervention described in this study offers a real-world approach that may need less upfront investment than other recently studied models, such as the Acute Care for the Elderly model, which requires structural and staffing enhancements. Clinicians and health system leaders may consider implementing this model to improve the care delivered to older adults in the hospital as it may help reduce the incidence of delirium among the older adults they serve.

–William W. Hung, MD, MPH

Disclosures: None.

 

Study Overview

Objective: To determine whether fractional flow reserve (FFR)–guided percutaneous coronary intervention (PCI) is noninferior to coronary-artery bypass grafting (CABG) in patients with 3-vessel coronary artery disease (CAD).

Design: Investigator-initiated, multicenter, international, randomized, controlled trial conducted at 48 sites.

Setting and participants: A total of 1500 patients with angiographically identified 3-vessel CAD not involving the left main coronary artery were randomly assigned to receive FFR-guided PCI with zotarolimus-eluting stents or CABG in a 1:1 ratio. Randomization was stratified according to trial site and diabetes status.

Main outcome measures: The primary end point was major adverse cardiac or cerebrovascular event, defined as death from any cause, myocardial infarction (MI), stroke, or repeat revascularization. The secondary end point was defined as a composite of death, MI, or stroke.

Results: At 1 year, the incidence of the composite primary end point was 10.6% for patients with FFR-guided PCI and 6.9% for patients with CABG (hazard ratio [HR], 1.5; 95% CI, 1.1-2.2; P = .35 for noninferiority), which was not consistent with noninferiority of FFR-guided PCI compared to CABG. The secondary end point occurred in 7.3% of patients in the FFR-guided PCI group compared with 5.2% in the CABG group (HR, 1.4; 95% CI, 0.9-2.1). Individual findings for the outcomes comprising the primary end point for the FFR-guided PCI group vs the CABG group were as follows: death, 1.6% vs 0.9%; MI, 5.2% vs 3.5%; stroke, 0.9% vs 1.1%; and repeat revascularization, 5.9% vs 3.9%. The CABG group had more extended hospital stays and higher incidences of major bleeding, arrhythmia, acute kidney injury, and rehospitalization within 30 days than the FFR-guided PCI group.

Conclusion: FFR-guided PCI was not found to be noninferior to CABG with respect to the incidence of a composite of death, MI, stroke, or repeat revascularization at 1 year.

Commentary

Revascularization for multivessel CAD can be performed by CABG or PCI. Previous studies have shown superior outcomes in patients with multivessel CAD who were treated with CABG compared to PCI.^1-3 The Synergy between PCI with Taxus and Cardiac Surgery (SYNTAX) trial, which compared CABG to PCI in patients with multivessel disease or unprotected left main CAD, stratified the anatomic complexity based on SYNTAX score and found that patients with higher anatomic complexity with a high SYNTAX score derive larger benefit from CABG compared to PCI.⁴ Therefore, the current guidelines favor CABG over PCI in patients with severe 3-vessel disease, except for patients with a lower SYNTAX score (<22) without diabetes.^5,6 However, except for a smaller size study,³ the previous trials that led to this recommendation used mostly first-generation drug-eluting stents and have not evaluated second-generation stents that have lower rates of in-stent restenosis and stent thrombosis. In addition, there have been significant improvements in PCI techniques since the study period, including the adoption of a radial approach and superior adjunct pharmacologic therapy. Furthermore, previous studies have not systematically investigated the use of FFR-guided PCI, which has been shown to be superior to angiography-guided PCI or medical treatment alone.^7-9

In this context, Fearon and the FAME-3 trial investigators studied the use of FFR-guided PCI with second-generation zotarolimus drug-eluting stents compared to CABG in patients with 3-vessel CAD. They randomized patients with angiographically identified 3-vessel CAD in a 1:1 ratio to receive FFR-guided PCI or CABG at 48 sites internationally. Patients with left main CAD, recent ST-elevation MI, cardiogenic shock, and left-ventricular ejection fraction <30% were excluded. The study results (composite primary end point incidence of 10.6% for patients with FFR-guided PCI vs 6.9% in the CABG group [HR, 1.5; 95% CI, 1.1-2.2; P = 0.35 for noninferiority]) showed that FFR-guided PCI did not meet the noninferiority criterion.

Although the FAME-3 study is an important study, there are a few points to consider. First, 24% of the lesions had a FFR measured at >0.80. The benefit of FFR-guided PCI lies in the number of lesions that are safely deferred compared to angiography-guided PCI. The small number of deferred lesions could have limited the benefit of FFR guidance compared with angiography. Second, this study did not include all comers who had angiographic 3-vessel disease. Patients who had FFR assessment of moderate lesions at the time of diagnostic angiogram and were found to have FFR >0.80 or were deemed single- or 2-vessel disease were likely treated with PCI. Therefore, as the authors point out, the patients included in this study may have been skewed to a higher-risk population compared to previous studies.

Third, the study may not reflect contemporary interventional practice, as the use of intravascular ultrasound was very low (12%). Intravascular ultrasound–guided PCI has been associated with increased luminal gain and improved outcomes compared to angiography-guided PCI.¹⁰ Although 20% of the patients in each arm were found to have chronic total occlusions, the completeness of revascularization has not yet been reported. It is possible that the PCI arm had fewer complete revascularizations, which has been shown in previous observational studies to be associated with worse clinical outcomes.^11,12

Although the current guidelines favor CABG over PCI in patients with multivessel disease, this recommendation is stratified by anatomic complexity.⁶ In fact, in the European guidelines, CABG and PCI are both class I recommendations for the treatment of 3-vessel disease with low SYNTAX score in patients without diabetes.⁵ Although the FAME-3 study failed to show noninferiority in the overall population, when stratified by the SYNTAX score, the major adverse cardiac event rate for the PCI group was numerically lower than that of the CABG group. The results from the FAME-3 study are overall in line with the previous studies and the current guidelines. Future studies are necessary to assess the outcomes of multivessel PCI compared to CABG using the most contemporary interventional practice and achieving complete revascularization in the PCI arm.

Applications for Clinical Practice

In patients with 3-vessel disease, FFR-guided PCI was not found to be noninferior to CABG; this finding is consistent with previous studies.

—Shubham Kanake, BS, Chirag Bavishi, MD, MPH, and Taishi Hirai, MD, University of Missouri, Columbia, MO

Disclosures: None.

Study Overview

Objective: To determine whether fractional flow reserve (FFR)–guided percutaneous coronary intervention (PCI) is noninferior to coronary-artery bypass grafting (CABG) in patients with 3-vessel coronary artery disease (CAD).

Design: Investigator-initiated, multicenter, international, randomized, controlled trial conducted at 48 sites.

Setting and participants: A total of 1500 patients with angiographically identified 3-vessel CAD not involving the left main coronary artery were randomly assigned to receive FFR-guided PCI with zotarolimus-eluting stents or CABG in a 1:1 ratio. Randomization was stratified according to trial site and diabetes status.

Main outcome measures: The primary end point was major adverse cardiac or cerebrovascular event, defined as death from any cause, myocardial infarction (MI), stroke, or repeat revascularization. The secondary end point was defined as a composite of death, MI, or stroke.

Results: At 1 year, the incidence of the composite primary end point was 10.6% for patients with FFR-guided PCI and 6.9% for patients with CABG (hazard ratio [HR], 1.5; 95% CI, 1.1-2.2; P = .35 for noninferiority), which was not consistent with noninferiority of FFR-guided PCI compared to CABG. The secondary end point occurred in 7.3% of patients in the FFR-guided PCI group compared with 5.2% in the CABG group (HR, 1.4; 95% CI, 0.9-2.1). Individual findings for the outcomes comprising the primary end point for the FFR-guided PCI group vs the CABG group were as follows: death, 1.6% vs 0.9%; MI, 5.2% vs 3.5%; stroke, 0.9% vs 1.1%; and repeat revascularization, 5.9% vs 3.9%. The CABG group had more extended hospital stays and higher incidences of major bleeding, arrhythmia, acute kidney injury, and rehospitalization within 30 days than the FFR-guided PCI group.

Conclusion: FFR-guided PCI was not found to be noninferior to CABG with respect to the incidence of a composite of death, MI, stroke, or repeat revascularization at 1 year.

Commentary

Revascularization for multivessel CAD can be performed by CABG or PCI. Previous studies have shown superior outcomes in patients with multivessel CAD who were treated with CABG compared to PCI.^1-3 The Synergy between PCI with Taxus and Cardiac Surgery (SYNTAX) trial, which compared CABG to PCI in patients with multivessel disease or unprotected left main CAD, stratified the anatomic complexity based on SYNTAX score and found that patients with higher anatomic complexity with a high SYNTAX score derive larger benefit from CABG compared to PCI.⁴ Therefore, the current guidelines favor CABG over PCI in patients with severe 3-vessel disease, except for patients with a lower SYNTAX score (<22) without diabetes.^5,6 However, except for a smaller size study,³ the previous trials that led to this recommendation used mostly first-generation drug-eluting stents and have not evaluated second-generation stents that have lower rates of in-stent restenosis and stent thrombosis. In addition, there have been significant improvements in PCI techniques since the study period, including the adoption of a radial approach and superior adjunct pharmacologic therapy. Furthermore, previous studies have not systematically investigated the use of FFR-guided PCI, which has been shown to be superior to angiography-guided PCI or medical treatment alone.^7-9

In this context, Fearon and the FAME-3 trial investigators studied the use of FFR-guided PCI with second-generation zotarolimus drug-eluting stents compared to CABG in patients with 3-vessel CAD. They randomized patients with angiographically identified 3-vessel CAD in a 1:1 ratio to receive FFR-guided PCI or CABG at 48 sites internationally. Patients with left main CAD, recent ST-elevation MI, cardiogenic shock, and left-ventricular ejection fraction <30% were excluded. The study results (composite primary end point incidence of 10.6% for patients with FFR-guided PCI vs 6.9% in the CABG group [HR, 1.5; 95% CI, 1.1-2.2; P = 0.35 for noninferiority]) showed that FFR-guided PCI did not meet the noninferiority criterion.

Although the FAME-3 study is an important study, there are a few points to consider. First, 24% of the lesions had a FFR measured at >0.80. The benefit of FFR-guided PCI lies in the number of lesions that are safely deferred compared to angiography-guided PCI. The small number of deferred lesions could have limited the benefit of FFR guidance compared with angiography. Second, this study did not include all comers who had angiographic 3-vessel disease. Patients who had FFR assessment of moderate lesions at the time of diagnostic angiogram and were found to have FFR >0.80 or were deemed single- or 2-vessel disease were likely treated with PCI. Therefore, as the authors point out, the patients included in this study may have been skewed to a higher-risk population compared to previous studies.

Third, the study may not reflect contemporary interventional practice, as the use of intravascular ultrasound was very low (12%). Intravascular ultrasound–guided PCI has been associated with increased luminal gain and improved outcomes compared to angiography-guided PCI.¹⁰ Although 20% of the patients in each arm were found to have chronic total occlusions, the completeness of revascularization has not yet been reported. It is possible that the PCI arm had fewer complete revascularizations, which has been shown in previous observational studies to be associated with worse clinical outcomes.^11,12

Although the current guidelines favor CABG over PCI in patients with multivessel disease, this recommendation is stratified by anatomic complexity.⁶ In fact, in the European guidelines, CABG and PCI are both class I recommendations for the treatment of 3-vessel disease with low SYNTAX score in patients without diabetes.⁵ Although the FAME-3 study failed to show noninferiority in the overall population, when stratified by the SYNTAX score, the major adverse cardiac event rate for the PCI group was numerically lower than that of the CABG group. The results from the FAME-3 study are overall in line with the previous studies and the current guidelines. Future studies are necessary to assess the outcomes of multivessel PCI compared to CABG using the most contemporary interventional practice and achieving complete revascularization in the PCI arm.

Applications for Clinical Practice

In patients with 3-vessel disease, FFR-guided PCI was not found to be noninferior to CABG; this finding is consistent with previous studies.

—Shubham Kanake, BS, Chirag Bavishi, MD, MPH, and Taishi Hirai, MD, University of Missouri, Columbia, MO

Disclosures: None.

Study Overview

Objective: To determine whether fractional flow reserve (FFR)–guided percutaneous coronary intervention (PCI) is noninferior to coronary-artery bypass grafting (CABG) in patients with 3-vessel coronary artery disease (CAD).

Design: Investigator-initiated, multicenter, international, randomized, controlled trial conducted at 48 sites.

Setting and participants: A total of 1500 patients with angiographically identified 3-vessel CAD not involving the left main coronary artery were randomly assigned to receive FFR-guided PCI with zotarolimus-eluting stents or CABG in a 1:1 ratio. Randomization was stratified according to trial site and diabetes status.

Main outcome measures: The primary end point was major adverse cardiac or cerebrovascular event, defined as death from any cause, myocardial infarction (MI), stroke, or repeat revascularization. The secondary end point was defined as a composite of death, MI, or stroke.

Results: At 1 year, the incidence of the composite primary end point was 10.6% for patients with FFR-guided PCI and 6.9% for patients with CABG (hazard ratio [HR], 1.5; 95% CI, 1.1-2.2; P = .35 for noninferiority), which was not consistent with noninferiority of FFR-guided PCI compared to CABG. The secondary end point occurred in 7.3% of patients in the FFR-guided PCI group compared with 5.2% in the CABG group (HR, 1.4; 95% CI, 0.9-2.1). Individual findings for the outcomes comprising the primary end point for the FFR-guided PCI group vs the CABG group were as follows: death, 1.6% vs 0.9%; MI, 5.2% vs 3.5%; stroke, 0.9% vs 1.1%; and repeat revascularization, 5.9% vs 3.9%. The CABG group had more extended hospital stays and higher incidences of major bleeding, arrhythmia, acute kidney injury, and rehospitalization within 30 days than the FFR-guided PCI group.

Conclusion: FFR-guided PCI was not found to be noninferior to CABG with respect to the incidence of a composite of death, MI, stroke, or repeat revascularization at 1 year.

Commentary

Revascularization for multivessel CAD can be performed by CABG or PCI. Previous studies have shown superior outcomes in patients with multivessel CAD who were treated with CABG compared to PCI.^1-3 The Synergy between PCI with Taxus and Cardiac Surgery (SYNTAX) trial, which compared CABG to PCI in patients with multivessel disease or unprotected left main CAD, stratified the anatomic complexity based on SYNTAX score and found that patients with higher anatomic complexity with a high SYNTAX score derive larger benefit from CABG compared to PCI.⁴ Therefore, the current guidelines favor CABG over PCI in patients with severe 3-vessel disease, except for patients with a lower SYNTAX score (<22) without diabetes.^5,6 However, except for a smaller size study,³ the previous trials that led to this recommendation used mostly first-generation drug-eluting stents and have not evaluated second-generation stents that have lower rates of in-stent restenosis and stent thrombosis. In addition, there have been significant improvements in PCI techniques since the study period, including the adoption of a radial approach and superior adjunct pharmacologic therapy. Furthermore, previous studies have not systematically investigated the use of FFR-guided PCI, which has been shown to be superior to angiography-guided PCI or medical treatment alone.^7-9

In this context, Fearon and the FAME-3 trial investigators studied the use of FFR-guided PCI with second-generation zotarolimus drug-eluting stents compared to CABG in patients with 3-vessel CAD. They randomized patients with angiographically identified 3-vessel CAD in a 1:1 ratio to receive FFR-guided PCI or CABG at 48 sites internationally. Patients with left main CAD, recent ST-elevation MI, cardiogenic shock, and left-ventricular ejection fraction <30% were excluded. The study results (composite primary end point incidence of 10.6% for patients with FFR-guided PCI vs 6.9% in the CABG group [HR, 1.5; 95% CI, 1.1-2.2; P = 0.35 for noninferiority]) showed that FFR-guided PCI did not meet the noninferiority criterion.

Although the FAME-3 study is an important study, there are a few points to consider. First, 24% of the lesions had a FFR measured at >0.80. The benefit of FFR-guided PCI lies in the number of lesions that are safely deferred compared to angiography-guided PCI. The small number of deferred lesions could have limited the benefit of FFR guidance compared with angiography. Second, this study did not include all comers who had angiographic 3-vessel disease. Patients who had FFR assessment of moderate lesions at the time of diagnostic angiogram and were found to have FFR >0.80 or were deemed single- or 2-vessel disease were likely treated with PCI. Therefore, as the authors point out, the patients included in this study may have been skewed to a higher-risk population compared to previous studies.

Third, the study may not reflect contemporary interventional practice, as the use of intravascular ultrasound was very low (12%). Intravascular ultrasound–guided PCI has been associated with increased luminal gain and improved outcomes compared to angiography-guided PCI.¹⁰ Although 20% of the patients in each arm were found to have chronic total occlusions, the completeness of revascularization has not yet been reported. It is possible that the PCI arm had fewer complete revascularizations, which has been shown in previous observational studies to be associated with worse clinical outcomes.^11,12

Although the current guidelines favor CABG over PCI in patients with multivessel disease, this recommendation is stratified by anatomic complexity.⁶ In fact, in the European guidelines, CABG and PCI are both class I recommendations for the treatment of 3-vessel disease with low SYNTAX score in patients without diabetes.⁵ Although the FAME-3 study failed to show noninferiority in the overall population, when stratified by the SYNTAX score, the major adverse cardiac event rate for the PCI group was numerically lower than that of the CABG group. The results from the FAME-3 study are overall in line with the previous studies and the current guidelines. Future studies are necessary to assess the outcomes of multivessel PCI compared to CABG using the most contemporary interventional practice and achieving complete revascularization in the PCI arm.

Applications for Clinical Practice

In patients with 3-vessel disease, FFR-guided PCI was not found to be noninferior to CABG; this finding is consistent with previous studies.

—Shubham Kanake, BS, Chirag Bavishi, MD, MPH, and Taishi Hirai, MD, University of Missouri, Columbia, MO

Disclosures: None.

Lisa Iezzoni, MD, a professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School and a disability researcher at Massachusetts General Hospital, both in Boston, has used a wheelchair for more than 30 years because of multiple sclerosis. When she visits her primary care doctor, she doesn’t get weighed because the scales are not wheelchair accessible.

This failure to weigh her and other patients in wheelchairs could lead to serious medical problems. Weight is used to monitor a person’s overall health and prenatal health and to determine accurate doses for medications such as some chemotherapies, said Dr. Iezzoni.

In another situation, a man who used a wheelchair said that his primary care doctor never got him out of it for a complete physical exam. The patient later developed lymphoma, which first appeared in his groin. The doctor should have accommodated his disability and used a height-adjustable exam table or a portable lift to transfer him onto the table.

When physicians don’t provide access to medical care that patients with disabilities need, they put themselves at greater risk of lawsuits, fines, and settlements.

Yet, a new study in Health Affairs suggests that a large percentage of doctors are not fully aware of what they are legally required to do.

Under federal nondiscrimination laws (Americans With Disabilities Act, American Rehabilitation Act, and ADA Amendments Act), medical practices must provide equal access to people with disabilities, accommodate their disability-related needs, and not refuse them medical services because of their disabilities, say disability experts.
 

Where doctors go wrong with disability laws

What doctors don’t know about providing reasonable accommodations makes them vulnerable to lawsuits, which worries more than two-thirds of the 714 outpatient doctors surveyed.

Not only are they required to provide reasonable accommodations, but they also have to pay for them, the researchers said. One-fifth of the surveyed doctors said they didn’t know that practice owners have to pay.

More than one practice has made patients pay for services needed for their disability, such as sign language interpreters – the patients later complained this violated the ADA to enforcement agencies.

Doctors also don’t know that they have to collaborate with patients to determine what reasonable accommodations they need – over two-thirds of those surveyed said they didn’t know it was a joint responsibility, the study found.

When doctors fail to accommodate patients’ disability needs, they engage in discrimination and violate the ADA, says Elizabeth Pendo, JD, a coauthor of the study and the Joseph J. Simeone Professor of Law at Saint Louis University.

The Department of Justice has investigated several patient complaints of alleged disability discrimination recently and resolved the disputes with agreements and small fines in some cases. “The goal is not to get large financial settlements but to work with practices to get the correct procedures in place to be compliant,” said Ms. Pendo.

Physicians would be wise to check out whether their practices are as accessible as they think. Even if there’s a ramp to the office building, the parking lot may not have a van-accessible space or enough handicapped parking signs, or the exam room may be too narrow for a wheelchair to navigate.

These practices violated the ADA and agreed to make changes:

• Hamden, Conn., has two buildings that patients with physical disabilities couldn’t easily enter. The physician owners agreed to change the buildings’ entrances and access routes and add features to make it easier to use examination rooms and restrooms and the check-in and check-out areas.
• Seven medical offices in Riverside, Calif., failed to communicate effectively with deaf and hard-of-hearing patients. They should have had a qualified sign language interpreter, an assistive listening device, or another appropriate aid or service available to a deaf patient and her family. Instead, the office relied on a video remote interpretation system that often failed to work. The agreement requires the clinic to provide those aids and services to patients and their companions who are deaf or hard of hearing, advertise their availability, assess each patient who is deaf or hard of hearing to determine the best aids and services for their needs, and pay $5,000 in compensation to the complainant and a $1,000 civil penalty to the United States.
• Springfield, Mass., refused to provide full joint replacements to two patients being treated with buprenorphine, a medication used to treat opioid use disorder. Rather than accommodate the patients, the surgeons referred them elsewhere because they were uncomfortable with the postoperative pain management protocol for patients prescribed buprenorphine. “The Americans With Disabilities Act protects health care access for people under medical treatment for opioid use disorder,” said Acting U.S. Attorney Nathaniel R. Mendell. “Health care providers must comply with the ADA, even when doing so is inconvenient or makes them uncomfortable.” The agreement requires the practice to adopt a nondiscrimination policy, provide training on the ADA and opioid use disorder, and pay two complainants $15,000 each for pain and suffering.

The DOJ has filed civil lawsuits against medical practices when they failed to resolve the allegations. Recent cases include an ophthalmology practice with 24 facilities in Arizona that refused to help transfer patients in wheelchairs to surgery tables for eye surgery and required them to pay for transfer support services and two obstetricians-gynecologists in Bakersfield, Calif., who refused to provide routine medical care to a patient because of her HIV status.
 

What doctors should know

Many people tend to think of a person with a disability as being in a wheelchair. But the ADA has a very broad definition of disability, which includes any physical or mental impairment that substantially limits any major life activity, said Ms. Pendo.

“It was amended in 2008 to clarify that the definition includes people with chronic diseases such as diabetes and cancer, cognitive and neurological disorders, substance abuse disorders, vision and hearing loss, and learning and other disabilities,” she said.

That means that doctors have to accommodate many types of disabilities, which can be challenging. The ADA only specifies that fixed structures need to be accessible, such as parking lots, driveways, and buildings, said Dr. Iezzoni.

When it comes to “reasonable accommodations,” doctors should decide that on a case-by-case basis, she said.

“We can say based on our study that 71% of doctors don’t know the right way to think about the accommodations – they don’t know they need to talk to patients so they can explain to them exactly what they need to accommodate their disability,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Doctors are also required to provide effective communication for patients with sensory or cognitive disabilities, which can depend on the severity, said Ms. Pendo. Is the person deaf or hard of hearing, blind or partially sighted – is the dementia mild or severe?

“The requirement is there, but what that looks like will vary by patient. That’s what’s challenging,” said Ms. Pendo.

Dr. Iezzoni recommends that doctor’s offices ask patients whether they need special help or individual assistance when they make appointments and enter their responses in their records. She also suggests that patients be asked at follow-up appointments whether they still need the same help or not.

“Disabilities can change over time – a person with bad arthritis may need help getting onto an exam table, but later get a knee or hip replacement that is effective and no longer need that help,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Benefits outweigh costs

Physicians have made progress in meeting the ADA’s physical accessibility requirements, said Dr. Iezzoni. “The literature suggests that doctors have done a good job at fixing the structural barriers people with mobility issues face, such as ramps and bathrooms.”

However, there are exceptions in rural older buildings which can be harder to retrofit for wheelchair accessibility, she said. “I recall interviewing a rural doctor several years ago who said that he knew his patients well and when a patient visits with mobility problems, he goes down and carries the patient up the steps to his office. My response was that is not respectful of the patient or safe for the patient or you. That doctor has since changed the location of his practice,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Some doctors may resist paying for accessible medical equipment because of cost, but she said the benefits are worth it. These include preventing staff injuries when they transfer patients and being used by patients with temporary disabilities and aging people with bad knees, backs, hearing and sight. In addition, businesses may be eligible for federal and state tax credits.

Dr. Iezzoni recently visited her doctor where they finally got height-adjustable exam tables. “I asked the assistant, who really likes these tables? She said it’s the elderly ladies of short stature – the table is lowered and they sit down and get on it.”

But, Dr. Iezonni’s main message to doctors is that patients with disabilities deserve equal quality of care. “Just because we have a disability doesn’t mean we should get worse care than other people. It’s a matter of professionalism that doctors should want to give the same quality care to all their patients.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Lisa Iezzoni, MD, a professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School and a disability researcher at Massachusetts General Hospital, both in Boston, has used a wheelchair for more than 30 years because of multiple sclerosis. When she visits her primary care doctor, she doesn’t get weighed because the scales are not wheelchair accessible.

This failure to weigh her and other patients in wheelchairs could lead to serious medical problems. Weight is used to monitor a person’s overall health and prenatal health and to determine accurate doses for medications such as some chemotherapies, said Dr. Iezzoni.

In another situation, a man who used a wheelchair said that his primary care doctor never got him out of it for a complete physical exam. The patient later developed lymphoma, which first appeared in his groin. The doctor should have accommodated his disability and used a height-adjustable exam table or a portable lift to transfer him onto the table.

When physicians don’t provide access to medical care that patients with disabilities need, they put themselves at greater risk of lawsuits, fines, and settlements.

Yet, a new study in Health Affairs suggests that a large percentage of doctors are not fully aware of what they are legally required to do.

Under federal nondiscrimination laws (Americans With Disabilities Act, American Rehabilitation Act, and ADA Amendments Act), medical practices must provide equal access to people with disabilities, accommodate their disability-related needs, and not refuse them medical services because of their disabilities, say disability experts.
 

Where doctors go wrong with disability laws

What doctors don’t know about providing reasonable accommodations makes them vulnerable to lawsuits, which worries more than two-thirds of the 714 outpatient doctors surveyed.

Not only are they required to provide reasonable accommodations, but they also have to pay for them, the researchers said. One-fifth of the surveyed doctors said they didn’t know that practice owners have to pay.

More than one practice has made patients pay for services needed for their disability, such as sign language interpreters – the patients later complained this violated the ADA to enforcement agencies.

Doctors also don’t know that they have to collaborate with patients to determine what reasonable accommodations they need – over two-thirds of those surveyed said they didn’t know it was a joint responsibility, the study found.

When doctors fail to accommodate patients’ disability needs, they engage in discrimination and violate the ADA, says Elizabeth Pendo, JD, a coauthor of the study and the Joseph J. Simeone Professor of Law at Saint Louis University.

The Department of Justice has investigated several patient complaints of alleged disability discrimination recently and resolved the disputes with agreements and small fines in some cases. “The goal is not to get large financial settlements but to work with practices to get the correct procedures in place to be compliant,” said Ms. Pendo.

Physicians would be wise to check out whether their practices are as accessible as they think. Even if there’s a ramp to the office building, the parking lot may not have a van-accessible space or enough handicapped parking signs, or the exam room may be too narrow for a wheelchair to navigate.

These practices violated the ADA and agreed to make changes:

• Hamden, Conn., has two buildings that patients with physical disabilities couldn’t easily enter. The physician owners agreed to change the buildings’ entrances and access routes and add features to make it easier to use examination rooms and restrooms and the check-in and check-out areas.
• Seven medical offices in Riverside, Calif., failed to communicate effectively with deaf and hard-of-hearing patients. They should have had a qualified sign language interpreter, an assistive listening device, or another appropriate aid or service available to a deaf patient and her family. Instead, the office relied on a video remote interpretation system that often failed to work. The agreement requires the clinic to provide those aids and services to patients and their companions who are deaf or hard of hearing, advertise their availability, assess each patient who is deaf or hard of hearing to determine the best aids and services for their needs, and pay $5,000 in compensation to the complainant and a $1,000 civil penalty to the United States.
• Springfield, Mass., refused to provide full joint replacements to two patients being treated with buprenorphine, a medication used to treat opioid use disorder. Rather than accommodate the patients, the surgeons referred them elsewhere because they were uncomfortable with the postoperative pain management protocol for patients prescribed buprenorphine. “The Americans With Disabilities Act protects health care access for people under medical treatment for opioid use disorder,” said Acting U.S. Attorney Nathaniel R. Mendell. “Health care providers must comply with the ADA, even when doing so is inconvenient or makes them uncomfortable.” The agreement requires the practice to adopt a nondiscrimination policy, provide training on the ADA and opioid use disorder, and pay two complainants $15,000 each for pain and suffering.

The DOJ has filed civil lawsuits against medical practices when they failed to resolve the allegations. Recent cases include an ophthalmology practice with 24 facilities in Arizona that refused to help transfer patients in wheelchairs to surgery tables for eye surgery and required them to pay for transfer support services and two obstetricians-gynecologists in Bakersfield, Calif., who refused to provide routine medical care to a patient because of her HIV status.
 

What doctors should know

Many people tend to think of a person with a disability as being in a wheelchair. But the ADA has a very broad definition of disability, which includes any physical or mental impairment that substantially limits any major life activity, said Ms. Pendo.

“It was amended in 2008 to clarify that the definition includes people with chronic diseases such as diabetes and cancer, cognitive and neurological disorders, substance abuse disorders, vision and hearing loss, and learning and other disabilities,” she said.

That means that doctors have to accommodate many types of disabilities, which can be challenging. The ADA only specifies that fixed structures need to be accessible, such as parking lots, driveways, and buildings, said Dr. Iezzoni.

When it comes to “reasonable accommodations,” doctors should decide that on a case-by-case basis, she said.

“We can say based on our study that 71% of doctors don’t know the right way to think about the accommodations – they don’t know they need to talk to patients so they can explain to them exactly what they need to accommodate their disability,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Doctors are also required to provide effective communication for patients with sensory or cognitive disabilities, which can depend on the severity, said Ms. Pendo. Is the person deaf or hard of hearing, blind or partially sighted – is the dementia mild or severe?

“The requirement is there, but what that looks like will vary by patient. That’s what’s challenging,” said Ms. Pendo.

Dr. Iezzoni recommends that doctor’s offices ask patients whether they need special help or individual assistance when they make appointments and enter their responses in their records. She also suggests that patients be asked at follow-up appointments whether they still need the same help or not.

“Disabilities can change over time – a person with bad arthritis may need help getting onto an exam table, but later get a knee or hip replacement that is effective and no longer need that help,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Benefits outweigh costs

Physicians have made progress in meeting the ADA’s physical accessibility requirements, said Dr. Iezzoni. “The literature suggests that doctors have done a good job at fixing the structural barriers people with mobility issues face, such as ramps and bathrooms.”

However, there are exceptions in rural older buildings which can be harder to retrofit for wheelchair accessibility, she said. “I recall interviewing a rural doctor several years ago who said that he knew his patients well and when a patient visits with mobility problems, he goes down and carries the patient up the steps to his office. My response was that is not respectful of the patient or safe for the patient or you. That doctor has since changed the location of his practice,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Some doctors may resist paying for accessible medical equipment because of cost, but she said the benefits are worth it. These include preventing staff injuries when they transfer patients and being used by patients with temporary disabilities and aging people with bad knees, backs, hearing and sight. In addition, businesses may be eligible for federal and state tax credits.

Dr. Iezzoni recently visited her doctor where they finally got height-adjustable exam tables. “I asked the assistant, who really likes these tables? She said it’s the elderly ladies of short stature – the table is lowered and they sit down and get on it.”

But, Dr. Iezonni’s main message to doctors is that patients with disabilities deserve equal quality of care. “Just because we have a disability doesn’t mean we should get worse care than other people. It’s a matter of professionalism that doctors should want to give the same quality care to all their patients.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Lisa Iezzoni, MD, a professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School and a disability researcher at Massachusetts General Hospital, both in Boston, has used a wheelchair for more than 30 years because of multiple sclerosis. When she visits her primary care doctor, she doesn’t get weighed because the scales are not wheelchair accessible.

This failure to weigh her and other patients in wheelchairs could lead to serious medical problems. Weight is used to monitor a person’s overall health and prenatal health and to determine accurate doses for medications such as some chemotherapies, said Dr. Iezzoni.

In another situation, a man who used a wheelchair said that his primary care doctor never got him out of it for a complete physical exam. The patient later developed lymphoma, which first appeared in his groin. The doctor should have accommodated his disability and used a height-adjustable exam table or a portable lift to transfer him onto the table.

When physicians don’t provide access to medical care that patients with disabilities need, they put themselves at greater risk of lawsuits, fines, and settlements.

Yet, a new study in Health Affairs suggests that a large percentage of doctors are not fully aware of what they are legally required to do.

Under federal nondiscrimination laws (Americans With Disabilities Act, American Rehabilitation Act, and ADA Amendments Act), medical practices must provide equal access to people with disabilities, accommodate their disability-related needs, and not refuse them medical services because of their disabilities, say disability experts.
 

Where doctors go wrong with disability laws

What doctors don’t know about providing reasonable accommodations makes them vulnerable to lawsuits, which worries more than two-thirds of the 714 outpatient doctors surveyed.

Not only are they required to provide reasonable accommodations, but they also have to pay for them, the researchers said. One-fifth of the surveyed doctors said they didn’t know that practice owners have to pay.

More than one practice has made patients pay for services needed for their disability, such as sign language interpreters – the patients later complained this violated the ADA to enforcement agencies.

Doctors also don’t know that they have to collaborate with patients to determine what reasonable accommodations they need – over two-thirds of those surveyed said they didn’t know it was a joint responsibility, the study found.

When doctors fail to accommodate patients’ disability needs, they engage in discrimination and violate the ADA, says Elizabeth Pendo, JD, a coauthor of the study and the Joseph J. Simeone Professor of Law at Saint Louis University.

The Department of Justice has investigated several patient complaints of alleged disability discrimination recently and resolved the disputes with agreements and small fines in some cases. “The goal is not to get large financial settlements but to work with practices to get the correct procedures in place to be compliant,” said Ms. Pendo.

Physicians would be wise to check out whether their practices are as accessible as they think. Even if there’s a ramp to the office building, the parking lot may not have a van-accessible space or enough handicapped parking signs, or the exam room may be too narrow for a wheelchair to navigate.

These practices violated the ADA and agreed to make changes:

• Hamden, Conn., has two buildings that patients with physical disabilities couldn’t easily enter. The physician owners agreed to change the buildings’ entrances and access routes and add features to make it easier to use examination rooms and restrooms and the check-in and check-out areas.
• Seven medical offices in Riverside, Calif., failed to communicate effectively with deaf and hard-of-hearing patients. They should have had a qualified sign language interpreter, an assistive listening device, or another appropriate aid or service available to a deaf patient and her family. Instead, the office relied on a video remote interpretation system that often failed to work. The agreement requires the clinic to provide those aids and services to patients and their companions who are deaf or hard of hearing, advertise their availability, assess each patient who is deaf or hard of hearing to determine the best aids and services for their needs, and pay $5,000 in compensation to the complainant and a $1,000 civil penalty to the United States.
• Springfield, Mass., refused to provide full joint replacements to two patients being treated with buprenorphine, a medication used to treat opioid use disorder. Rather than accommodate the patients, the surgeons referred them elsewhere because they were uncomfortable with the postoperative pain management protocol for patients prescribed buprenorphine. “The Americans With Disabilities Act protects health care access for people under medical treatment for opioid use disorder,” said Acting U.S. Attorney Nathaniel R. Mendell. “Health care providers must comply with the ADA, even when doing so is inconvenient or makes them uncomfortable.” The agreement requires the practice to adopt a nondiscrimination policy, provide training on the ADA and opioid use disorder, and pay two complainants $15,000 each for pain and suffering.

The DOJ has filed civil lawsuits against medical practices when they failed to resolve the allegations. Recent cases include an ophthalmology practice with 24 facilities in Arizona that refused to help transfer patients in wheelchairs to surgery tables for eye surgery and required them to pay for transfer support services and two obstetricians-gynecologists in Bakersfield, Calif., who refused to provide routine medical care to a patient because of her HIV status.
 

What doctors should know

Many people tend to think of a person with a disability as being in a wheelchair. But the ADA has a very broad definition of disability, which includes any physical or mental impairment that substantially limits any major life activity, said Ms. Pendo.

“It was amended in 2008 to clarify that the definition includes people with chronic diseases such as diabetes and cancer, cognitive and neurological disorders, substance abuse disorders, vision and hearing loss, and learning and other disabilities,” she said.

That means that doctors have to accommodate many types of disabilities, which can be challenging. The ADA only specifies that fixed structures need to be accessible, such as parking lots, driveways, and buildings, said Dr. Iezzoni.

When it comes to “reasonable accommodations,” doctors should decide that on a case-by-case basis, she said.

“We can say based on our study that 71% of doctors don’t know the right way to think about the accommodations – they don’t know they need to talk to patients so they can explain to them exactly what they need to accommodate their disability,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Doctors are also required to provide effective communication for patients with sensory or cognitive disabilities, which can depend on the severity, said Ms. Pendo. Is the person deaf or hard of hearing, blind or partially sighted – is the dementia mild or severe?

“The requirement is there, but what that looks like will vary by patient. That’s what’s challenging,” said Ms. Pendo.

Dr. Iezzoni recommends that doctor’s offices ask patients whether they need special help or individual assistance when they make appointments and enter their responses in their records. She also suggests that patients be asked at follow-up appointments whether they still need the same help or not.

“Disabilities can change over time – a person with bad arthritis may need help getting onto an exam table, but later get a knee or hip replacement that is effective and no longer need that help,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Benefits outweigh costs

Physicians have made progress in meeting the ADA’s physical accessibility requirements, said Dr. Iezzoni. “The literature suggests that doctors have done a good job at fixing the structural barriers people with mobility issues face, such as ramps and bathrooms.”

However, there are exceptions in rural older buildings which can be harder to retrofit for wheelchair accessibility, she said. “I recall interviewing a rural doctor several years ago who said that he knew his patients well and when a patient visits with mobility problems, he goes down and carries the patient up the steps to his office. My response was that is not respectful of the patient or safe for the patient or you. That doctor has since changed the location of his practice,” said Dr. Iezzoni.

Some doctors may resist paying for accessible medical equipment because of cost, but she said the benefits are worth it. These include preventing staff injuries when they transfer patients and being used by patients with temporary disabilities and aging people with bad knees, backs, hearing and sight. In addition, businesses may be eligible for federal and state tax credits.

Dr. Iezzoni recently visited her doctor where they finally got height-adjustable exam tables. “I asked the assistant, who really likes these tables? She said it’s the elderly ladies of short stature – the table is lowered and they sit down and get on it.”

But, Dr. Iezonni’s main message to doctors is that patients with disabilities deserve equal quality of care. “Just because we have a disability doesn’t mean we should get worse care than other people. It’s a matter of professionalism that doctors should want to give the same quality care to all their patients.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Depending on the data you’re looking at, 40%-60% of physicians are burned out.

Research studies and the eye test reveal the painfully obvious: Colleagues are tired, winded, spent, and at times way past burned out. People aren’t asking me if they’re burned out. They know they’re burned out; heck, they can even recite the Maslach burnout inventory, forward and backward, in a mask, or while completing a COVID quarantine. A fair share of people know the key steps to prevent burnout and promote recovery.

What I’m starting to see more of is, “Why should I even bother to recover from this? Why pick myself up again just to get another occupational stress injury (burnout, demoralization, moral injury, etc.)?” In other words, it’s not just simply about negating burnout; it’s about supporting and facilitating the motivation to work.

We’ve been through so much with COVID that it might be challenging to remember when you saw a truly engaged work environment. No doubt, we have outstanding professionals across medicine who answer the bell every day. However, if you’ve been looking closely, many teams/units have lost a bit of the zip and pep. The synergy and trust aren’t as smooth, and at noon, everyone counts the hours to the end of the shift.

You may be thinking, Well, of course, they are; we’re still amid a pandemic, and people have been through hell. Your observation would be correct, except I’ve personally seen some teams weather the pandemic storm and still remain engaged (some even more involved).

The No. 1 consult result for the GW Resiliency and Well-Being Center, where I work, has been on lectures for burnout. The R&WC has given so many of these lectures that my dreams take the form of a PowerPoint presentation. Overall the talks have gone very well. We’ve added skills sections on practices of whole-person care. We’ve blitzed the daylights out of restorative sleep, yet I know we are still searching for the correct narrative.

Motivated staff, faculty, and students will genuinely take in the information and follow the recommendations; however, they still struggle to find that drive and zest for work. Yes, moving from burnout to neutral is reasonable but likely won’t move the needle of your professional or personal life. We need to have the emotional energy and the clear desire to utilize that energy for a meaningful purpose.

Talking about burnout in specific ways is straightforward and, in my opinion, much easier than talking about engagement. Part of the challenge when trying to discuss engagement is that people can feel invalidated or that you’re telling them to be stoic. Or worse yet, that the problem of burnout primarily lies with them. It’s essential to recognize the role of an organizational factor in burnout (approximately 80%, depending on the study); still, even if you address burnout, people may not be miserable, but it doesn’t mean they will stay at their current job (please cue intro music for the Great Resignation).

Engagement models have existed for some time and certainly have gained much more attention in health care settings over the past 2 decades. Engagement can be described as having three components: dedication, vigor, and absorption. When a person is filling all three of these components over time, presto – you get the much-sought-after state of the supremely engaged professional.

These models definitely give us excellent starting points to approach engagement from a pre-COVID era. In COVID and beyond, I’m not sure how these models will stand up in a hybrid work environment, where autonomy and flexibility could be more valued than ever. Personally, COVID revealed some things I was missing in my work pre-COVID:

• Time to think and process. This was one of the great things about being a consultation-liaison psychiatrist; it was literally feast or famine.
• Doing what I’m talented at and really enjoy.
• Time is short, and I want to be more present in the life of my family.
• Growth and curiosity are vitally important to me. These have to be part of my daily ritual and practice.

The list above isn’t exhaustive, but I’ve found them to be my own personal recipe for being engaged. Over the next series of articles, I’m going to focus on engagement and factors related to key resilience. These articles will be informed by a front-line view from my colleagues, and hopefully start to separate the myth from reality on the subject of health professional engagement and resilience.

Everyone be safe and well!

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Depending on the data you’re looking at, 40%-60% of physicians are burned out.

Research studies and the eye test reveal the painfully obvious: Colleagues are tired, winded, spent, and at times way past burned out. People aren’t asking me if they’re burned out. They know they’re burned out; heck, they can even recite the Maslach burnout inventory, forward and backward, in a mask, or while completing a COVID quarantine. A fair share of people know the key steps to prevent burnout and promote recovery.

What I’m starting to see more of is, “Why should I even bother to recover from this? Why pick myself up again just to get another occupational stress injury (burnout, demoralization, moral injury, etc.)?” In other words, it’s not just simply about negating burnout; it’s about supporting and facilitating the motivation to work.

We’ve been through so much with COVID that it might be challenging to remember when you saw a truly engaged work environment. No doubt, we have outstanding professionals across medicine who answer the bell every day. However, if you’ve been looking closely, many teams/units have lost a bit of the zip and pep. The synergy and trust aren’t as smooth, and at noon, everyone counts the hours to the end of the shift.

You may be thinking, Well, of course, they are; we’re still amid a pandemic, and people have been through hell. Your observation would be correct, except I’ve personally seen some teams weather the pandemic storm and still remain engaged (some even more involved).

The No. 1 consult result for the GW Resiliency and Well-Being Center, where I work, has been on lectures for burnout. The R&WC has given so many of these lectures that my dreams take the form of a PowerPoint presentation. Overall the talks have gone very well. We’ve added skills sections on practices of whole-person care. We’ve blitzed the daylights out of restorative sleep, yet I know we are still searching for the correct narrative.

Motivated staff, faculty, and students will genuinely take in the information and follow the recommendations; however, they still struggle to find that drive and zest for work. Yes, moving from burnout to neutral is reasonable but likely won’t move the needle of your professional or personal life. We need to have the emotional energy and the clear desire to utilize that energy for a meaningful purpose.

Talking about burnout in specific ways is straightforward and, in my opinion, much easier than talking about engagement. Part of the challenge when trying to discuss engagement is that people can feel invalidated or that you’re telling them to be stoic. Or worse yet, that the problem of burnout primarily lies with them. It’s essential to recognize the role of an organizational factor in burnout (approximately 80%, depending on the study); still, even if you address burnout, people may not be miserable, but it doesn’t mean they will stay at their current job (please cue intro music for the Great Resignation).

Engagement models have existed for some time and certainly have gained much more attention in health care settings over the past 2 decades. Engagement can be described as having three components: dedication, vigor, and absorption. When a person is filling all three of these components over time, presto – you get the much-sought-after state of the supremely engaged professional.

These models definitely give us excellent starting points to approach engagement from a pre-COVID era. In COVID and beyond, I’m not sure how these models will stand up in a hybrid work environment, where autonomy and flexibility could be more valued than ever. Personally, COVID revealed some things I was missing in my work pre-COVID:

• Time to think and process. This was one of the great things about being a consultation-liaison psychiatrist; it was literally feast or famine.
• Doing what I’m talented at and really enjoy.
• Time is short, and I want to be more present in the life of my family.
• Growth and curiosity are vitally important to me. These have to be part of my daily ritual and practice.

The list above isn’t exhaustive, but I’ve found them to be my own personal recipe for being engaged. Over the next series of articles, I’m going to focus on engagement and factors related to key resilience. These articles will be informed by a front-line view from my colleagues, and hopefully start to separate the myth from reality on the subject of health professional engagement and resilience.

Everyone be safe and well!

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Depending on the data you’re looking at, 40%-60% of physicians are burned out.

Research studies and the eye test reveal the painfully obvious: Colleagues are tired, winded, spent, and at times way past burned out. People aren’t asking me if they’re burned out. They know they’re burned out; heck, they can even recite the Maslach burnout inventory, forward and backward, in a mask, or while completing a COVID quarantine. A fair share of people know the key steps to prevent burnout and promote recovery.

What I’m starting to see more of is, “Why should I even bother to recover from this? Why pick myself up again just to get another occupational stress injury (burnout, demoralization, moral injury, etc.)?” In other words, it’s not just simply about negating burnout; it’s about supporting and facilitating the motivation to work.

We’ve been through so much with COVID that it might be challenging to remember when you saw a truly engaged work environment. No doubt, we have outstanding professionals across medicine who answer the bell every day. However, if you’ve been looking closely, many teams/units have lost a bit of the zip and pep. The synergy and trust aren’t as smooth, and at noon, everyone counts the hours to the end of the shift.

You may be thinking, Well, of course, they are; we’re still amid a pandemic, and people have been through hell. Your observation would be correct, except I’ve personally seen some teams weather the pandemic storm and still remain engaged (some even more involved).

The No. 1 consult result for the GW Resiliency and Well-Being Center, where I work, has been on lectures for burnout. The R&WC has given so many of these lectures that my dreams take the form of a PowerPoint presentation. Overall the talks have gone very well. We’ve added skills sections on practices of whole-person care. We’ve blitzed the daylights out of restorative sleep, yet I know we are still searching for the correct narrative.

Motivated staff, faculty, and students will genuinely take in the information and follow the recommendations; however, they still struggle to find that drive and zest for work. Yes, moving from burnout to neutral is reasonable but likely won’t move the needle of your professional or personal life. We need to have the emotional energy and the clear desire to utilize that energy for a meaningful purpose.

Talking about burnout in specific ways is straightforward and, in my opinion, much easier than talking about engagement. Part of the challenge when trying to discuss engagement is that people can feel invalidated or that you’re telling them to be stoic. Or worse yet, that the problem of burnout primarily lies with them. It’s essential to recognize the role of an organizational factor in burnout (approximately 80%, depending on the study); still, even if you address burnout, people may not be miserable, but it doesn’t mean they will stay at their current job (please cue intro music for the Great Resignation).

Engagement models have existed for some time and certainly have gained much more attention in health care settings over the past 2 decades. Engagement can be described as having three components: dedication, vigor, and absorption. When a person is filling all three of these components over time, presto – you get the much-sought-after state of the supremely engaged professional.

These models definitely give us excellent starting points to approach engagement from a pre-COVID era. In COVID and beyond, I’m not sure how these models will stand up in a hybrid work environment, where autonomy and flexibility could be more valued than ever. Personally, COVID revealed some things I was missing in my work pre-COVID:

• Time to think and process. This was one of the great things about being a consultation-liaison psychiatrist; it was literally feast or famine.
• Doing what I’m talented at and really enjoy.
• Time is short, and I want to be more present in the life of my family.
• Growth and curiosity are vitally important to me. These have to be part of my daily ritual and practice.

The list above isn’t exhaustive, but I’ve found them to be my own personal recipe for being engaged. Over the next series of articles, I’m going to focus on engagement and factors related to key resilience. These articles will be informed by a front-line view from my colleagues, and hopefully start to separate the myth from reality on the subject of health professional engagement and resilience.

Everyone be safe and well!

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Considering the controversy surrounding functional medicine, you may be wondering why JFP published an article about it last month.¹ David Gorski, MD, PhD, FACS, a vocal critic of functional medicine, commented: “Functional medicine. It sounds so … scientific and reasonable. It’s anything but. In fact, functional medicine combines the worst features of conventional medicine with a heapin’ helpin’ of quackery.”² On its website, however, The Institute for Functional Medicine claims that “functional medicine determines how and why illness occurs and restores health by addressing the root causes of disease for each individual.”³

I suspect the truth lies somewhere in between.

Does functional medicine combine “the worst features of conventional medicine with a heapin’ helpin’ of quackery”? Or is it still in its infancy and does it deserve a wait-and-see approach?

Because functional medicine has gained a certain degree of popularity, I felt it was important for family physicians and other primary care clinicians to know enough about this alternative healing method to discuss it with patients who express interest.

In their review article in JFP, Orlando and colleagues tell us there are 7 defining characteristics of functional medicine.¹ It is patient centered rather than disease centered, uses a “systems biology” approach, considers the dynamic balance of gene-environment interactions, is personalized based on biochemical individuality, promotes organ reserve and sustained health span, sees health as a positive vitality (not merely the absence of disease), and focuses on function rather than pathology.

Most of these statements about functional medicine apply to traditional family medicine. The clinical approach stressing lifestyle changes is mainstream, not unique. The focus on digestion and the microbiome as an important determinant of health is based on interesting basic science studies and associations noted between certain microbiome profiles and diseases.

But association is not causation. So far there is scant evidence that changing the microbiome results in better health, although some preliminary case series have generated intriguing hypotheses. And there is evidence that probiotics improve some symptoms. Ongoing research into the microbiome and health will, no doubt, be illuminating. We have much to learn.

What does seem unique, but suspect, about functional medicine is its focus on biochemical testing of unproven value and the prescribing of diets and supplements based on the test results. There are no sound scientific studies showing the benefit of this approach.

I suggest you read Orlando et al’s article. Functional medicine is an interesting, mostly unproven, approach to patient care. But I will keep an open mind until we see better research that either does—or doesn’t—support the validity of its practices.

Considering the controversy surrounding functional medicine, you may be wondering why JFP published an article about it last month.¹ David Gorski, MD, PhD, FACS, a vocal critic of functional medicine, commented: “Functional medicine. It sounds so … scientific and reasonable. It’s anything but. In fact, functional medicine combines the worst features of conventional medicine with a heapin’ helpin’ of quackery.”² On its website, however, The Institute for Functional Medicine claims that “functional medicine determines how and why illness occurs and restores health by addressing the root causes of disease for each individual.”³

I suspect the truth lies somewhere in between.

Does functional medicine combine “the worst features of conventional medicine with a heapin’ helpin’ of quackery”? Or is it still in its infancy and does it deserve a wait-and-see approach?

Because functional medicine has gained a certain degree of popularity, I felt it was important for family physicians and other primary care clinicians to know enough about this alternative healing method to discuss it with patients who express interest.

In their review article in JFP, Orlando and colleagues tell us there are 7 defining characteristics of functional medicine.¹ It is patient centered rather than disease centered, uses a “systems biology” approach, considers the dynamic balance of gene-environment interactions, is personalized based on biochemical individuality, promotes organ reserve and sustained health span, sees health as a positive vitality (not merely the absence of disease), and focuses on function rather than pathology.

Most of these statements about functional medicine apply to traditional family medicine. The clinical approach stressing lifestyle changes is mainstream, not unique. The focus on digestion and the microbiome as an important determinant of health is based on interesting basic science studies and associations noted between certain microbiome profiles and diseases.

But association is not causation. So far there is scant evidence that changing the microbiome results in better health, although some preliminary case series have generated intriguing hypotheses. And there is evidence that probiotics improve some symptoms. Ongoing research into the microbiome and health will, no doubt, be illuminating. We have much to learn.

What does seem unique, but suspect, about functional medicine is its focus on biochemical testing of unproven value and the prescribing of diets and supplements based on the test results. There are no sound scientific studies showing the benefit of this approach.

I suggest you read Orlando et al’s article. Functional medicine is an interesting, mostly unproven, approach to patient care. But I will keep an open mind until we see better research that either does—or doesn’t—support the validity of its practices.

Considering the controversy surrounding functional medicine, you may be wondering why JFP published an article about it last month.¹ David Gorski, MD, PhD, FACS, a vocal critic of functional medicine, commented: “Functional medicine. It sounds so … scientific and reasonable. It’s anything but. In fact, functional medicine combines the worst features of conventional medicine with a heapin’ helpin’ of quackery.”² On its website, however, The Institute for Functional Medicine claims that “functional medicine determines how and why illness occurs and restores health by addressing the root causes of disease for each individual.”³

I suspect the truth lies somewhere in between.

Does functional medicine combine “the worst features of conventional medicine with a heapin’ helpin’ of quackery”? Or is it still in its infancy and does it deserve a wait-and-see approach?

Because functional medicine has gained a certain degree of popularity, I felt it was important for family physicians and other primary care clinicians to know enough about this alternative healing method to discuss it with patients who express interest.

In their review article in JFP, Orlando and colleagues tell us there are 7 defining characteristics of functional medicine.¹ It is patient centered rather than disease centered, uses a “systems biology” approach, considers the dynamic balance of gene-environment interactions, is personalized based on biochemical individuality, promotes organ reserve and sustained health span, sees health as a positive vitality (not merely the absence of disease), and focuses on function rather than pathology.

Most of these statements about functional medicine apply to traditional family medicine. The clinical approach stressing lifestyle changes is mainstream, not unique. The focus on digestion and the microbiome as an important determinant of health is based on interesting basic science studies and associations noted between certain microbiome profiles and diseases.

But association is not causation. So far there is scant evidence that changing the microbiome results in better health, although some preliminary case series have generated intriguing hypotheses. And there is evidence that probiotics improve some symptoms. Ongoing research into the microbiome and health will, no doubt, be illuminating. We have much to learn.

What does seem unique, but suspect, about functional medicine is its focus on biochemical testing of unproven value and the prescribing of diets and supplements based on the test results. There are no sound scientific studies showing the benefit of this approach.

I suggest you read Orlando et al’s article. Functional medicine is an interesting, mostly unproven, approach to patient care. But I will keep an open mind until we see better research that either does—or doesn’t—support the validity of its practices.

THE CASE

Paul F* is a 16-year-old White boy who lives with his mother and spends some weekends with his father who has shared custody. He recently presented to the clinic for treatment due to an arrest for disorderly conduct at school. He and a friend were found drinking liquor outside the school building when they were scheduled to be in class. Paul reported that he and his friends often drink at school and at extracurricular functions. He has been using alcohol for the past 2 years, with escalating consumption (5 or more drinks per episode) in the past year. Paul has been drinking most days of the week and has even driven under the influence at times. He said, “I just feel happier when I am drinking.” An accomplished soccer player recruited by colleges, Paul recently was suspended from the team due to his poor grades. His response was, “It’s stupid anyway. What’s the point of playing?”

● How would you proceed with this patient?

* The patient’s name and some personal details have been changed to protect his identity.

Alcohol is the number 1 substance of abuse for adolescents, used more than tobacco or drugs.^1-3 In 2007 and again in 2016, the Surgeon General of the United States issued reports to highlight this important topic,^1,2 noting that early and repeated exposure to alcohol during this crucial time of brain development increases the risk for future problems, including addiction.²

Adolescent alcohol use is often underestimated by parents and physicians, including misjudging how much, how often, and how young children are when they begin to drink.¹ Boys and girls tend to start drinking at similar ages (13.9 and 14.4 years, respectively),³ but as girls age, they tend to drink more and binge more.⁴ In 2019, 1 in 4 adolescents reported drinking and more than 4 million reported at least 1 episode of binge drinking in the prior month.⁴ These numbers have further ramifications: early drinking is associated with alcohol dependence, relapse, use of other substances, risky sexual behaviors, injurious behaviors, suicide, motor vehicle accidents, and dating violence.^4-6

Diagnosing alcohol use disorder

The range of alcohol use includes consumption, bingeing, abuse, and dependence.^7,8 Consumption is defined as the drinking of alcoholic beverages. Bingeing is the consumption of more than 5 drinks for men or 4 drinks for women in 2 hours, according to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.⁷ However, the criterion is slightly different for the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, which broadens the timeframe to “on the same occasion.”⁹ While previously known as separate disorders, alcohol abuse (or misuse) and alcohol dependence are now diagnostically classified together as alcohol use disorders (AUDs), per the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-5 (DSM-5).⁸ AUD is further stratified as mild, moderate, or severe, depending on the number of criteria that are met by the patient (TABLE).^8,10

Alcohol screening

Currently, the US Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) does not recommend screening adolescents ages 12 to 17 for AUD, and has instead issued an “I” statement (insufficient evidence).¹¹ While the USPSTF recognizes the potential burdens of adolescent alcohol use, the potential harms of screening include “stigma, anxiety, labeling, discrimination, privacy concerns, and interference with the patient–clinician relationship.”¹¹ The USPSTF also notes that it “did not find any evidence that specifically examined the harms of screening for alcohol use in adolescents.”¹¹

The Screening to Brief Intervention (S2BI) tool can quickly and efficiently stratify a patient’s risk of substance use disorder.

This is at odds with recommendations from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), which in 2011 released a policy statement advocating screening, brief intervention, and referral to treatment for adolescent substance use.¹² In the United States, even though 83% of adolescents see a physician at least once each year,^12,13 alcohol misuse screening still varies, occurring in the range of 50% to 86% of office visits.¹² When screening does occur, it is often based on clinical impression only.¹² Studies have shown that when a screening tool is not used, up to two-thirds of substance use disorders may be missed.^12-15

Continue to: A full and complete biopsychosocial interview

A full and complete biopsychosocial interview with adolescents is a necessity, and should include queries about alcohol, drugs, and other substances. Acknowledgment of use should trigger further investigation into the substance use areas. Interviews may start with open-ended questions about alcohol use at home or at school before moving to more personalized and detailed questioning and use of screening tools.¹⁶

While various screening instruments exist, for the sake of brevity we provide as an example the Screening to Brief Intervention (S2BI) tool. It is an efficient, single-page tool that can help clinicians in their routine care of adolescents to quickly stratify the patient risk of substance use disorder as none/low, moderate, or severe.¹² It can be found here: www.mcpap.com/pdf/S2Bi%20Toolkit.pdf (see page 10).

Studies have demonstrated a strong link between insomnia and anxiety, and again between anxiety and alcohol use disorder.

For all patients, but particularly for adolescents, confidentiality is important, and many specialty societies have created language to address this issue.¹² Discuss confidentiality with both the adolescent patient and the patient’s caregiver simultaneously, with dialogue that includes: (a) the need to speak with adolescents alone during the office visit, (b) the benefits of confidentiality in the ­physician–patient relationship, and (c) the need to disclose selected information to keep patients safe.¹² Describing the process for required disclosures is essential. Benefits of disclosure include further support for the adolescent patient as well as appropriate parental participation and support for possible referrals.¹²

Treating AUD  

Treatment for AUD should be multifaceted. Screen for comorbid mood disorders, such as generalized anxiety,^17,18 social anxiety,¹⁸ and depression,¹⁹ as well as for insomnia.¹⁸ Studies have demonstrated a strong link between insomnia and anxiety, and again between anxiety and AUD.^17-19 Finally, screen for adverse childhood events such as trauma, victimization, and abuse.²⁰ Addressing issues discovered in screening allows for more targeted and personalized treatment of AUD.

The National Institute on Drug Abuse categorizes evidence-based treatment into 3 areas: behavioral therapies, family therapies, and medications.²¹

Continue to: Behavioral therapies

Behavioral therapies can include group therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), motivational enhancement therapy, 12-Step facilitation, and contingency management, in which small rewards or incentives are given for participation in treatment to reinforce positive behaviors.²¹

Family-based therapies, such as brief strategic family therapy, functional family therapy, and multisystem therapy recognize that adolescents exist in systems of families in communities, and that the patient’s success in treatment may be supported by these relationships.²¹

Some medications may achieve modest benefit for treatment of adolescents with AUD. Naltrexone, acamprosate, and disulfiram have all been used successfully to treat AUD in adults²¹; some physicians may choose to use these medications “off label” in adolescents. Bupropion has been used successfully in the treatment of nicotine use disorder,²¹ and a small study in 2005 showed some success with bupropion in treating adolescents with ­attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, comorbid depression, and substance use disorder.²² Naltrexone has also been studied in adolescents with opioid use disorder, although these were not large studies.²³

Adolescents with serious, sustained issues with AUD may require more in-depth treatments such as an intensive outpatient program, a partial hospitalization program, or a residential treatment program.¹⁵ The least-­restrictive environment is preferable.¹⁵ Families are generally included as part of the treatment and recovery process in those settings.²¹ Some patients may require detoxification prior to referral to residential treatment settings; the American Society of Addiction Medicine has published a comprehensive guideline on alcohol withdrawal.²⁴

THE CASE

Paul’s family physician diagnosed his condition as AUD and referred him for CBT with a psychologist, who treated him for both the AUD and an underlying depressive disorder that was later identified. CBT focused on cognitive restructuring of depressive thoughts as well as support for continued abstinence from alcohol. The patient, with family support, declined antidepressant medication.

After 6 months of treatment, Paul and his parents were pleased with his progress. His grades improved to the point that he was permitted to play soccer again, and he was seriously looking at his future college options.

CORRESPONDENCE
Scott A. Fields, PhD, 3200 MacCorkle Avenue Southeast, 5th Floor, Robert C. Byrd Clinical Teaching Center, Department of Family Medicine, Charleston, WV 25304; [email protected]

THE CASE

Paul F* is a 16-year-old White boy who lives with his mother and spends some weekends with his father who has shared custody. He recently presented to the clinic for treatment due to an arrest for disorderly conduct at school. He and a friend were found drinking liquor outside the school building when they were scheduled to be in class. Paul reported that he and his friends often drink at school and at extracurricular functions. He has been using alcohol for the past 2 years, with escalating consumption (5 or more drinks per episode) in the past year. Paul has been drinking most days of the week and has even driven under the influence at times. He said, “I just feel happier when I am drinking.” An accomplished soccer player recruited by colleges, Paul recently was suspended from the team due to his poor grades. His response was, “It’s stupid anyway. What’s the point of playing?”

● How would you proceed with this patient?

* The patient’s name and some personal details have been changed to protect his identity.

Alcohol is the number 1 substance of abuse for adolescents, used more than tobacco or drugs.^1-3 In 2007 and again in 2016, the Surgeon General of the United States issued reports to highlight this important topic,^1,2 noting that early and repeated exposure to alcohol during this crucial time of brain development increases the risk for future problems, including addiction.²

Adolescent alcohol use is often underestimated by parents and physicians, including misjudging how much, how often, and how young children are when they begin to drink.¹ Boys and girls tend to start drinking at similar ages (13.9 and 14.4 years, respectively),³ but as girls age, they tend to drink more and binge more.⁴ In 2019, 1 in 4 adolescents reported drinking and more than 4 million reported at least 1 episode of binge drinking in the prior month.⁴ These numbers have further ramifications: early drinking is associated with alcohol dependence, relapse, use of other substances, risky sexual behaviors, injurious behaviors, suicide, motor vehicle accidents, and dating violence.^4-6

Diagnosing alcohol use disorder

The range of alcohol use includes consumption, bingeing, abuse, and dependence.^7,8 Consumption is defined as the drinking of alcoholic beverages. Bingeing is the consumption of more than 5 drinks for men or 4 drinks for women in 2 hours, according to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.⁷ However, the criterion is slightly different for the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, which broadens the timeframe to “on the same occasion.”⁹ While previously known as separate disorders, alcohol abuse (or misuse) and alcohol dependence are now diagnostically classified together as alcohol use disorders (AUDs), per the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-5 (DSM-5).⁸ AUD is further stratified as mild, moderate, or severe, depending on the number of criteria that are met by the patient (TABLE).^8,10

Alcohol screening

Currently, the US Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) does not recommend screening adolescents ages 12 to 17 for AUD, and has instead issued an “I” statement (insufficient evidence).¹¹ While the USPSTF recognizes the potential burdens of adolescent alcohol use, the potential harms of screening include “stigma, anxiety, labeling, discrimination, privacy concerns, and interference with the patient–clinician relationship.”¹¹ The USPSTF also notes that it “did not find any evidence that specifically examined the harms of screening for alcohol use in adolescents.”¹¹

The Screening to Brief Intervention (S2BI) tool can quickly and efficiently stratify a patient’s risk of substance use disorder.

This is at odds with recommendations from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), which in 2011 released a policy statement advocating screening, brief intervention, and referral to treatment for adolescent substance use.¹² In the United States, even though 83% of adolescents see a physician at least once each year,^12,13 alcohol misuse screening still varies, occurring in the range of 50% to 86% of office visits.¹² When screening does occur, it is often based on clinical impression only.¹² Studies have shown that when a screening tool is not used, up to two-thirds of substance use disorders may be missed.^12-15

Continue to: A full and complete biopsychosocial interview

A full and complete biopsychosocial interview with adolescents is a necessity, and should include queries about alcohol, drugs, and other substances. Acknowledgment of use should trigger further investigation into the substance use areas. Interviews may start with open-ended questions about alcohol use at home or at school before moving to more personalized and detailed questioning and use of screening tools.¹⁶

While various screening instruments exist, for the sake of brevity we provide as an example the Screening to Brief Intervention (S2BI) tool. It is an efficient, single-page tool that can help clinicians in their routine care of adolescents to quickly stratify the patient risk of substance use disorder as none/low, moderate, or severe.¹² It can be found here: www.mcpap.com/pdf/S2Bi%20Toolkit.pdf (see page 10).

Studies have demonstrated a strong link between insomnia and anxiety, and again between anxiety and alcohol use disorder.

For all patients, but particularly for adolescents, confidentiality is important, and many specialty societies have created language to address this issue.¹² Discuss confidentiality with both the adolescent patient and the patient’s caregiver simultaneously, with dialogue that includes: (a) the need to speak with adolescents alone during the office visit, (b) the benefits of confidentiality in the ­physician–patient relationship, and (c) the need to disclose selected information to keep patients safe.¹² Describing the process for required disclosures is essential. Benefits of disclosure include further support for the adolescent patient as well as appropriate parental participation and support for possible referrals.¹²

Treating AUD  

Treatment for AUD should be multifaceted. Screen for comorbid mood disorders, such as generalized anxiety,^17,18 social anxiety,¹⁸ and depression,¹⁹ as well as for insomnia.¹⁸ Studies have demonstrated a strong link between insomnia and anxiety, and again between anxiety and AUD.^17-19 Finally, screen for adverse childhood events such as trauma, victimization, and abuse.²⁰ Addressing issues discovered in screening allows for more targeted and personalized treatment of AUD.

The National Institute on Drug Abuse categorizes evidence-based treatment into 3 areas: behavioral therapies, family therapies, and medications.²¹

Continue to: Behavioral therapies

Behavioral therapies can include group therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), motivational enhancement therapy, 12-Step facilitation, and contingency management, in which small rewards or incentives are given for participation in treatment to reinforce positive behaviors.²¹

Family-based therapies, such as brief strategic family therapy, functional family therapy, and multisystem therapy recognize that adolescents exist in systems of families in communities, and that the patient’s success in treatment may be supported by these relationships.²¹

Some medications may achieve modest benefit for treatment of adolescents with AUD. Naltrexone, acamprosate, and disulfiram have all been used successfully to treat AUD in adults²¹; some physicians may choose to use these medications “off label” in adolescents. Bupropion has been used successfully in the treatment of nicotine use disorder,²¹ and a small study in 2005 showed some success with bupropion in treating adolescents with ­attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, comorbid depression, and substance use disorder.²² Naltrexone has also been studied in adolescents with opioid use disorder, although these were not large studies.²³

Adolescents with serious, sustained issues with AUD may require more in-depth treatments such as an intensive outpatient program, a partial hospitalization program, or a residential treatment program.¹⁵ The least-­restrictive environment is preferable.¹⁵ Families are generally included as part of the treatment and recovery process in those settings.²¹ Some patients may require detoxification prior to referral to residential treatment settings; the American Society of Addiction Medicine has published a comprehensive guideline on alcohol withdrawal.²⁴

THE CASE

Paul’s family physician diagnosed his condition as AUD and referred him for CBT with a psychologist, who treated him for both the AUD and an underlying depressive disorder that was later identified. CBT focused on cognitive restructuring of depressive thoughts as well as support for continued abstinence from alcohol. The patient, with family support, declined antidepressant medication.

After 6 months of treatment, Paul and his parents were pleased with his progress. His grades improved to the point that he was permitted to play soccer again, and he was seriously looking at his future college options.

CORRESPONDENCE
Scott A. Fields, PhD, 3200 MacCorkle Avenue Southeast, 5th Floor, Robert C. Byrd Clinical Teaching Center, Department of Family Medicine, Charleston, WV 25304; [email protected]

THE CASE

Paul F* is a 16-year-old White boy who lives with his mother and spends some weekends with his father who has shared custody. He recently presented to the clinic for treatment due to an arrest for disorderly conduct at school. He and a friend were found drinking liquor outside the school building when they were scheduled to be in class. Paul reported that he and his friends often drink at school and at extracurricular functions. He has been using alcohol for the past 2 years, with escalating consumption (5 or more drinks per episode) in the past year. Paul has been drinking most days of the week and has even driven under the influence at times. He said, “I just feel happier when I am drinking.” An accomplished soccer player recruited by colleges, Paul recently was suspended from the team due to his poor grades. His response was, “It’s stupid anyway. What’s the point of playing?”

● How would you proceed with this patient?

* The patient’s name and some personal details have been changed to protect his identity.

Alcohol is the number 1 substance of abuse for adolescents, used more than tobacco or drugs.^1-3 In 2007 and again in 2016, the Surgeon General of the United States issued reports to highlight this important topic,^1,2 noting that early and repeated exposure to alcohol during this crucial time of brain development increases the risk for future problems, including addiction.²

Adolescent alcohol use is often underestimated by parents and physicians, including misjudging how much, how often, and how young children are when they begin to drink.¹ Boys and girls tend to start drinking at similar ages (13.9 and 14.4 years, respectively),³ but as girls age, they tend to drink more and binge more.⁴ In 2019, 1 in 4 adolescents reported drinking and more than 4 million reported at least 1 episode of binge drinking in the prior month.⁴ These numbers have further ramifications: early drinking is associated with alcohol dependence, relapse, use of other substances, risky sexual behaviors, injurious behaviors, suicide, motor vehicle accidents, and dating violence.^4-6

Diagnosing alcohol use disorder

The range of alcohol use includes consumption, bingeing, abuse, and dependence.^7,8 Consumption is defined as the drinking of alcoholic beverages. Bingeing is the consumption of more than 5 drinks for men or 4 drinks for women in 2 hours, according to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.⁷ However, the criterion is slightly different for the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, which broadens the timeframe to “on the same occasion.”⁹ While previously known as separate disorders, alcohol abuse (or misuse) and alcohol dependence are now diagnostically classified together as alcohol use disorders (AUDs), per the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-5 (DSM-5).⁸ AUD is further stratified as mild, moderate, or severe, depending on the number of criteria that are met by the patient (TABLE).^8,10

Alcohol screening

Currently, the US Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) does not recommend screening adolescents ages 12 to 17 for AUD, and has instead issued an “I” statement (insufficient evidence).¹¹ While the USPSTF recognizes the potential burdens of adolescent alcohol use, the potential harms of screening include “stigma, anxiety, labeling, discrimination, privacy concerns, and interference with the patient–clinician relationship.”¹¹ The USPSTF also notes that it “did not find any evidence that specifically examined the harms of screening for alcohol use in adolescents.”¹¹

The Screening to Brief Intervention (S2BI) tool can quickly and efficiently stratify a patient’s risk of substance use disorder.

This is at odds with recommendations from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), which in 2011 released a policy statement advocating screening, brief intervention, and referral to treatment for adolescent substance use.¹² In the United States, even though 83% of adolescents see a physician at least once each year,^12,13 alcohol misuse screening still varies, occurring in the range of 50% to 86% of office visits.¹² When screening does occur, it is often based on clinical impression only.¹² Studies have shown that when a screening tool is not used, up to two-thirds of substance use disorders may be missed.^12-15

Continue to: A full and complete biopsychosocial interview

A full and complete biopsychosocial interview with adolescents is a necessity, and should include queries about alcohol, drugs, and other substances. Acknowledgment of use should trigger further investigation into the substance use areas. Interviews may start with open-ended questions about alcohol use at home or at school before moving to more personalized and detailed questioning and use of screening tools.¹⁶

While various screening instruments exist, for the sake of brevity we provide as an example the Screening to Brief Intervention (S2BI) tool. It is an efficient, single-page tool that can help clinicians in their routine care of adolescents to quickly stratify the patient risk of substance use disorder as none/low, moderate, or severe.¹² It can be found here: www.mcpap.com/pdf/S2Bi%20Toolkit.pdf (see page 10).

Studies have demonstrated a strong link between insomnia and anxiety, and again between anxiety and alcohol use disorder.

For all patients, but particularly for adolescents, confidentiality is important, and many specialty societies have created language to address this issue.¹² Discuss confidentiality with both the adolescent patient and the patient’s caregiver simultaneously, with dialogue that includes: (a) the need to speak with adolescents alone during the office visit, (b) the benefits of confidentiality in the ­physician–patient relationship, and (c) the need to disclose selected information to keep patients safe.¹² Describing the process for required disclosures is essential. Benefits of disclosure include further support for the adolescent patient as well as appropriate parental participation and support for possible referrals.¹²

Treating AUD  

Treatment for AUD should be multifaceted. Screen for comorbid mood disorders, such as generalized anxiety,^17,18 social anxiety,¹⁸ and depression,¹⁹ as well as for insomnia.¹⁸ Studies have demonstrated a strong link between insomnia and anxiety, and again between anxiety and AUD.^17-19 Finally, screen for adverse childhood events such as trauma, victimization, and abuse.²⁰ Addressing issues discovered in screening allows for more targeted and personalized treatment of AUD.

The National Institute on Drug Abuse categorizes evidence-based treatment into 3 areas: behavioral therapies, family therapies, and medications.²¹

Continue to: Behavioral therapies

Behavioral therapies can include group therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), motivational enhancement therapy, 12-Step facilitation, and contingency management, in which small rewards or incentives are given for participation in treatment to reinforce positive behaviors.²¹

Family-based therapies, such as brief strategic family therapy, functional family therapy, and multisystem therapy recognize that adolescents exist in systems of families in communities, and that the patient’s success in treatment may be supported by these relationships.²¹

Some medications may achieve modest benefit for treatment of adolescents with AUD. Naltrexone, acamprosate, and disulfiram have all been used successfully to treat AUD in adults²¹; some physicians may choose to use these medications “off label” in adolescents. Bupropion has been used successfully in the treatment of nicotine use disorder,²¹ and a small study in 2005 showed some success with bupropion in treating adolescents with ­attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, comorbid depression, and substance use disorder.²² Naltrexone has also been studied in adolescents with opioid use disorder, although these were not large studies.²³

Adolescents with serious, sustained issues with AUD may require more in-depth treatments such as an intensive outpatient program, a partial hospitalization program, or a residential treatment program.¹⁵ The least-­restrictive environment is preferable.¹⁵ Families are generally included as part of the treatment and recovery process in those settings.²¹ Some patients may require detoxification prior to referral to residential treatment settings; the American Society of Addiction Medicine has published a comprehensive guideline on alcohol withdrawal.²⁴

THE CASE

Paul’s family physician diagnosed his condition as AUD and referred him for CBT with a psychologist, who treated him for both the AUD and an underlying depressive disorder that was later identified. CBT focused on cognitive restructuring of depressive thoughts as well as support for continued abstinence from alcohol. The patient, with family support, declined antidepressant medication.

After 6 months of treatment, Paul and his parents were pleased with his progress. His grades improved to the point that he was permitted to play soccer again, and he was seriously looking at his future college options.

CORRESPONDENCE
Scott A. Fields, PhD, 3200 MacCorkle Avenue Southeast, 5th Floor, Robert C. Byrd Clinical Teaching Center, Department of Family Medicine, Charleston, WV 25304; [email protected]

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

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

The Cleanliness of the White Coat

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

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

Patient Preference of Physician Attire

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

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

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

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

Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic

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

Final Thoughts

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

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

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

The Cleanliness of the White Coat

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

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

Patient Preference of Physician Attire

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

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

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

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

Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic

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

Final Thoughts

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

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

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

The Cleanliness of the White Coat

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

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

Patient Preference of Physician Attire

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

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

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

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

Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic

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

Final Thoughts

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