Commentary

Some details have been changed to protect the patient’s identity.

The first thing I noticed about Mr. Barry as I entered the intensive care unit was his left foot: Half of it was black, shriveled, and gangrenous, jutting out from under the white blanket. The soft rays of the morning sun illuminated his gaunt, unshaven, hollow cheeks. Sedated on propofol, with a green endotracheal tube sticking out of his chapped lips, he looked frail. His nurse, Becky, had just cleaned him after he passed tarry, maroon-colored stool. As she turned him over, I saw that the skin over his tailbone was broken. He had a large decubitus ulcer, the edges of which were now dried and black. The Foley bag, hanging next to his bed, was empty; there had been no urine for several hours now.

No one knew much about Mr. Barry. I don’t mean his current medical status – I mean what he did in life, who he loved, whether he had kids, what he valued. All we knew was that he was 83 years old and lived alone. No prior records in our system. No advanced directives. No information on any family. One of his neighbors called 911 after he was not seen for at least 10 days. Emergency medical services found Mr. Barry in bed, nearly lifeless. In the emergency room, he was noted to be in shock, with a dangerously low blood pressure. He was dry as a bone with markedly elevated sodium levels. His laboratory makers for kidney and liver function were deranged. He was admitted to the medical ICU with a diagnosis of hypovolemic shock and/or septic shock with multiorgan dysfunction. With 48 hours of supportive management with intravenous fluids and antibiotics, he did not improve. Blood cultures were positive for gram-positive cocci. The doses for medications used to maintain the blood pressure increased steadily. He also developed gastrointestinal bleeding.
 

Futile vs. potentially inappropriate

I was called for a cardiology consult because he had transient ST elevation in inferolateral leads on the monitor. Given his clinical scenario, the likelihood of type 1 myocardial infarction from plaque rupture was low; the ST elevations were probably related to vasospasm from increasing pressor requirement. Diagnostic cardiac catheterization showed clean coronary arteries. Continuous renal replacement therapy was soon started. Given Mr Barry’s multiorgan dysfunction and extremely poor prognosis, I recommended making all efforts to find his family or surrogate decision-maker to discuss goals of care or having a two-physician sign-off to place a DNR order.

Despite all efforts, we could not trace the family. We physicians vary individually on how we define value as related to life. We also vary on the degree of uncertainty about prognostication that we are comfortable with. This is one of the reasons the term “futility” is controversial and there is a push to use “potentially inappropriate” instead. The primary team had a different threshold for placing a DNR order and did not do it. That night, after I left the hospital, Mr Barry had a PEA (pulseless electrical activity) arrest and was resuscitated after 10 minutes of CPR. The next day, I noticed his bruised chest. He was on multiple medications to support his blood pressure.
 

My patient and a Hemingway protagonist

Whether by coincidence or irony, I started reading Ernest Hemingway’s short story “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” the same day that I met Mr. Barry. He reminded me of the story’s protagonist, Harry, lying on the cot with a gangrenous leg, waiting to die. Harry could sense death approaching. He reminisced about his past. All he wanted was to drink his “whiskey-soda.” “Darling, don’t drink that. We have to do everything we can,” his wife said. “You do it. I am tired,” Harry said, and continued to drink his whiskey-soda.

Mr. Barry looked tired. Tired of life? I can’t say with certainty. However, if I had to guess, the medical team’s heroics meant nothing to him. Unfortunately, he was not awake like Harry and could not do what he wished. I wondered what snippets of his life flashed before him as he lay on his bed at home for days. Did he want to have a whiskey-soda before dying? But we are not letting him die. Not easily anyway. We have to do everything we can: medications, coronary angiogram, dialysis, multiple rounds of CPR. Why?

In this country, we need permission to forgo CPR. If there are no advanced directives or next of kin available to discuss end-of-life care, performing CPR is the default status for all hospitalized patients, irrespective of the underlying severity of the illness. A unilateral DNR order written by a physician in good conscience (in a medically futile situation), but to which the patient has not consented, is generally invalid in most U.S. states. If health directives are not available, CPR will be administered on the presumption that the patient would want us to “do everything we can.” The medicolegal consequences and fear of not administering CPR is more profound than being found wrong and defying a patient’s wishes against CPR.

In patients with outside-hospital cardiac arrest, especially if related to ventricular fibrillation, early bystander CPR improves the survival rate. Hence, it makes sense for first responders and paramedics to administer CPR as the default option, focusing on the technique, rather than thinking about its utility based on the patient’s underlying comorbidities.

In the inpatient setting, however, physicians have enough information to comprehensively evaluate the patient. In a cohort of 5,690 critically ill ICU patients, obtained from a U.S. registry, the rate of survival to discharge after inpatient cardiac arrest is very low at 12.5%. Chronic health conditions, malignancy, end-stage renal disease, multiorgan dysfunction, need for vasopressor support, prior CPR, initial rhythm of asystole, or PEA advanced age were all associated with a less than 10% survival rate after CPR.

Dying is a process. Administering CPR to a dying patient is of little to no value. For Mr. Barry, it resulted in a bruised chest and broken ribs. James R. Jude, MD, one of the pioneers of closed chest compression, or modern-day CPR, wrote in 1965 that “resuscitation of the dying patient with irreparable damage to lungs, heart, kidneys, brain or any other vital system of the body has no medical, ethical, or moral justification. The techniques described in this monograph were designed to resuscitate the victim of acute insult, whether be it from drowning, electrical shock, untoward effect of drugs, anesthetic accident, heart block, acute myocardial infarction, or surgery.”

Yet, doctors continue to provide futile treatments at end of life for a variety of reasons: concerns about medico-legal risks, discomfort or inexperience with death and dying, uncertainty in prognostication, family requests, and organizational barriers such as lack of palliative services that can help lead end-of-life care discussions. Despite knowing that CPR has little benefit in critically ill patients with terminal illness and multiorgan dysfunction, we often ask the patient and their surrogate decision-makers: “If your heart stops, do you want us to restore your heart by pressing on the chest and giving electric shocks?” The very act of asking the question implies that CPR may be beneficial. We often do not go over the risks or offer an opinion on whether CPR should be performed. We take a neutral stance.

Anoxic brain injury, pain from broken ribs, and low likelihood of survival to discharge with acceptable neurologic recovery are rarely discussed in detail. Laypeople may overestimate the chances of survival after CPR and they may not comprehend that it does not reverse the dying process in patients with a terminal illness. When you ask about CPR, most families hear: “Do you want your loved one to live?” and the answer is nearly always “Yes.” We then administer CPR, thinking that we are respecting the patient’s autonomy in the medical decision-making process. However, in end-of-life care, elderly patients or surrogates may not fully understand the complexities involved or the outcomes of CPR. So, are we truly respecting their autonomy?
 

When to offer CPR?

In 2011, Billings and Krakauer, palliative care specialists from Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston, suggested that we focus on understanding our patient’s values and goals of care, and then decide whether to offer CPR, rather than taking a neutral stance. With this approach, we continue to respect the patient’s autonomy and also affirm our responsibility in providing care consistent with medical reality. We need to have the humility to accept that death is inevitable. Taking care of the dying to ensure a peaceful and dignified death is as much our moral and ethical responsibility as respecting a patient’s autonomy.

It has been 10 years since a group of physicians from Columbia University Medical Center, Harvard Medical School, MGH, and Boston Children’s Hospital proposed changes to how we determine resuscitation status. Instead of assuming that CPR is always wanted, they suggested three distinct approaches: consider CPR when the benefits versus risks are uncertain, and the patient is not end stage; recommend against CPR when there is a low likelihood of benefit and high likelihood of harm (e.g., patients with anoxic brain injury, advanced incurable cancer, or end-stage multiorgan dysfunction); and do not offer CPR to patients who will die imminently and have no chance of surviving CPR (e.g., patients with multiorgan dysfunction, increasing pressor requirements, and those who are actively dying without a single immediately reversible cause). I agree with their proposal.

Mr. Barry was actively dying. Unfortunately, we had neither his advanced directives nor access to family members or surrogates to discuss values and goals of care. Given the futility of administering CPR again, and based on our humanitarian principles, a moral and ethical responsibility to ensure a peaceful dying process, I and another ICU attending placed the DNR order. He passed away, peacefully, within a few hours.

That evening, as I was sitting on my porch reading the last page of “The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” my phone pinged. It was an email asking me to complete the final attestation for the death certificate. I imagined that Mr. Barry knew where he was going. He probably had his own special place – something beautiful and majestic, great and tall, dazzlingly white in the hot sun, like the snow-capped mountain of Kilimanjaro that Harry saw at the time of his death.

Dr. Mallidi is a general cardiologist at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital, UCSF. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Some details have been changed to protect the patient’s identity.

The first thing I noticed about Mr. Barry as I entered the intensive care unit was his left foot: Half of it was black, shriveled, and gangrenous, jutting out from under the white blanket. The soft rays of the morning sun illuminated his gaunt, unshaven, hollow cheeks. Sedated on propofol, with a green endotracheal tube sticking out of his chapped lips, he looked frail. His nurse, Becky, had just cleaned him after he passed tarry, maroon-colored stool. As she turned him over, I saw that the skin over his tailbone was broken. He had a large decubitus ulcer, the edges of which were now dried and black. The Foley bag, hanging next to his bed, was empty; there had been no urine for several hours now.

No one knew much about Mr. Barry. I don’t mean his current medical status – I mean what he did in life, who he loved, whether he had kids, what he valued. All we knew was that he was 83 years old and lived alone. No prior records in our system. No advanced directives. No information on any family. One of his neighbors called 911 after he was not seen for at least 10 days. Emergency medical services found Mr. Barry in bed, nearly lifeless. In the emergency room, he was noted to be in shock, with a dangerously low blood pressure. He was dry as a bone with markedly elevated sodium levels. His laboratory makers for kidney and liver function were deranged. He was admitted to the medical ICU with a diagnosis of hypovolemic shock and/or septic shock with multiorgan dysfunction. With 48 hours of supportive management with intravenous fluids and antibiotics, he did not improve. Blood cultures were positive for gram-positive cocci. The doses for medications used to maintain the blood pressure increased steadily. He also developed gastrointestinal bleeding.
 

Futile vs. potentially inappropriate

I was called for a cardiology consult because he had transient ST elevation in inferolateral leads on the monitor. Given his clinical scenario, the likelihood of type 1 myocardial infarction from plaque rupture was low; the ST elevations were probably related to vasospasm from increasing pressor requirement. Diagnostic cardiac catheterization showed clean coronary arteries. Continuous renal replacement therapy was soon started. Given Mr Barry’s multiorgan dysfunction and extremely poor prognosis, I recommended making all efforts to find his family or surrogate decision-maker to discuss goals of care or having a two-physician sign-off to place a DNR order.

Despite all efforts, we could not trace the family. We physicians vary individually on how we define value as related to life. We also vary on the degree of uncertainty about prognostication that we are comfortable with. This is one of the reasons the term “futility” is controversial and there is a push to use “potentially inappropriate” instead. The primary team had a different threshold for placing a DNR order and did not do it. That night, after I left the hospital, Mr Barry had a PEA (pulseless electrical activity) arrest and was resuscitated after 10 minutes of CPR. The next day, I noticed his bruised chest. He was on multiple medications to support his blood pressure.
 

My patient and a Hemingway protagonist

Whether by coincidence or irony, I started reading Ernest Hemingway’s short story “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” the same day that I met Mr. Barry. He reminded me of the story’s protagonist, Harry, lying on the cot with a gangrenous leg, waiting to die. Harry could sense death approaching. He reminisced about his past. All he wanted was to drink his “whiskey-soda.” “Darling, don’t drink that. We have to do everything we can,” his wife said. “You do it. I am tired,” Harry said, and continued to drink his whiskey-soda.

Mr. Barry looked tired. Tired of life? I can’t say with certainty. However, if I had to guess, the medical team’s heroics meant nothing to him. Unfortunately, he was not awake like Harry and could not do what he wished. I wondered what snippets of his life flashed before him as he lay on his bed at home for days. Did he want to have a whiskey-soda before dying? But we are not letting him die. Not easily anyway. We have to do everything we can: medications, coronary angiogram, dialysis, multiple rounds of CPR. Why?

In this country, we need permission to forgo CPR. If there are no advanced directives or next of kin available to discuss end-of-life care, performing CPR is the default status for all hospitalized patients, irrespective of the underlying severity of the illness. A unilateral DNR order written by a physician in good conscience (in a medically futile situation), but to which the patient has not consented, is generally invalid in most U.S. states. If health directives are not available, CPR will be administered on the presumption that the patient would want us to “do everything we can.” The medicolegal consequences and fear of not administering CPR is more profound than being found wrong and defying a patient’s wishes against CPR.

In patients with outside-hospital cardiac arrest, especially if related to ventricular fibrillation, early bystander CPR improves the survival rate. Hence, it makes sense for first responders and paramedics to administer CPR as the default option, focusing on the technique, rather than thinking about its utility based on the patient’s underlying comorbidities.

In the inpatient setting, however, physicians have enough information to comprehensively evaluate the patient. In a cohort of 5,690 critically ill ICU patients, obtained from a U.S. registry, the rate of survival to discharge after inpatient cardiac arrest is very low at 12.5%. Chronic health conditions, malignancy, end-stage renal disease, multiorgan dysfunction, need for vasopressor support, prior CPR, initial rhythm of asystole, or PEA advanced age were all associated with a less than 10% survival rate after CPR.

Dying is a process. Administering CPR to a dying patient is of little to no value. For Mr. Barry, it resulted in a bruised chest and broken ribs. James R. Jude, MD, one of the pioneers of closed chest compression, or modern-day CPR, wrote in 1965 that “resuscitation of the dying patient with irreparable damage to lungs, heart, kidneys, brain or any other vital system of the body has no medical, ethical, or moral justification. The techniques described in this monograph were designed to resuscitate the victim of acute insult, whether be it from drowning, electrical shock, untoward effect of drugs, anesthetic accident, heart block, acute myocardial infarction, or surgery.”

Yet, doctors continue to provide futile treatments at end of life for a variety of reasons: concerns about medico-legal risks, discomfort or inexperience with death and dying, uncertainty in prognostication, family requests, and organizational barriers such as lack of palliative services that can help lead end-of-life care discussions. Despite knowing that CPR has little benefit in critically ill patients with terminal illness and multiorgan dysfunction, we often ask the patient and their surrogate decision-makers: “If your heart stops, do you want us to restore your heart by pressing on the chest and giving electric shocks?” The very act of asking the question implies that CPR may be beneficial. We often do not go over the risks or offer an opinion on whether CPR should be performed. We take a neutral stance.

Anoxic brain injury, pain from broken ribs, and low likelihood of survival to discharge with acceptable neurologic recovery are rarely discussed in detail. Laypeople may overestimate the chances of survival after CPR and they may not comprehend that it does not reverse the dying process in patients with a terminal illness. When you ask about CPR, most families hear: “Do you want your loved one to live?” and the answer is nearly always “Yes.” We then administer CPR, thinking that we are respecting the patient’s autonomy in the medical decision-making process. However, in end-of-life care, elderly patients or surrogates may not fully understand the complexities involved or the outcomes of CPR. So, are we truly respecting their autonomy?
 

When to offer CPR?

In 2011, Billings and Krakauer, palliative care specialists from Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston, suggested that we focus on understanding our patient’s values and goals of care, and then decide whether to offer CPR, rather than taking a neutral stance. With this approach, we continue to respect the patient’s autonomy and also affirm our responsibility in providing care consistent with medical reality. We need to have the humility to accept that death is inevitable. Taking care of the dying to ensure a peaceful and dignified death is as much our moral and ethical responsibility as respecting a patient’s autonomy.

It has been 10 years since a group of physicians from Columbia University Medical Center, Harvard Medical School, MGH, and Boston Children’s Hospital proposed changes to how we determine resuscitation status. Instead of assuming that CPR is always wanted, they suggested three distinct approaches: consider CPR when the benefits versus risks are uncertain, and the patient is not end stage; recommend against CPR when there is a low likelihood of benefit and high likelihood of harm (e.g., patients with anoxic brain injury, advanced incurable cancer, or end-stage multiorgan dysfunction); and do not offer CPR to patients who will die imminently and have no chance of surviving CPR (e.g., patients with multiorgan dysfunction, increasing pressor requirements, and those who are actively dying without a single immediately reversible cause). I agree with their proposal.

Mr. Barry was actively dying. Unfortunately, we had neither his advanced directives nor access to family members or surrogates to discuss values and goals of care. Given the futility of administering CPR again, and based on our humanitarian principles, a moral and ethical responsibility to ensure a peaceful dying process, I and another ICU attending placed the DNR order. He passed away, peacefully, within a few hours.

That evening, as I was sitting on my porch reading the last page of “The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” my phone pinged. It was an email asking me to complete the final attestation for the death certificate. I imagined that Mr. Barry knew where he was going. He probably had his own special place – something beautiful and majestic, great and tall, dazzlingly white in the hot sun, like the snow-capped mountain of Kilimanjaro that Harry saw at the time of his death.

Dr. Mallidi is a general cardiologist at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital, UCSF. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

Some details have been changed to protect the patient’s identity.

The first thing I noticed about Mr. Barry as I entered the intensive care unit was his left foot: Half of it was black, shriveled, and gangrenous, jutting out from under the white blanket. The soft rays of the morning sun illuminated his gaunt, unshaven, hollow cheeks. Sedated on propofol, with a green endotracheal tube sticking out of his chapped lips, he looked frail. His nurse, Becky, had just cleaned him after he passed tarry, maroon-colored stool. As she turned him over, I saw that the skin over his tailbone was broken. He had a large decubitus ulcer, the edges of which were now dried and black. The Foley bag, hanging next to his bed, was empty; there had been no urine for several hours now.

No one knew much about Mr. Barry. I don’t mean his current medical status – I mean what he did in life, who he loved, whether he had kids, what he valued. All we knew was that he was 83 years old and lived alone. No prior records in our system. No advanced directives. No information on any family. One of his neighbors called 911 after he was not seen for at least 10 days. Emergency medical services found Mr. Barry in bed, nearly lifeless. In the emergency room, he was noted to be in shock, with a dangerously low blood pressure. He was dry as a bone with markedly elevated sodium levels. His laboratory makers for kidney and liver function were deranged. He was admitted to the medical ICU with a diagnosis of hypovolemic shock and/or septic shock with multiorgan dysfunction. With 48 hours of supportive management with intravenous fluids and antibiotics, he did not improve. Blood cultures were positive for gram-positive cocci. The doses for medications used to maintain the blood pressure increased steadily. He also developed gastrointestinal bleeding.
 

Futile vs. potentially inappropriate

I was called for a cardiology consult because he had transient ST elevation in inferolateral leads on the monitor. Given his clinical scenario, the likelihood of type 1 myocardial infarction from plaque rupture was low; the ST elevations were probably related to vasospasm from increasing pressor requirement. Diagnostic cardiac catheterization showed clean coronary arteries. Continuous renal replacement therapy was soon started. Given Mr Barry’s multiorgan dysfunction and extremely poor prognosis, I recommended making all efforts to find his family or surrogate decision-maker to discuss goals of care or having a two-physician sign-off to place a DNR order.

Despite all efforts, we could not trace the family. We physicians vary individually on how we define value as related to life. We also vary on the degree of uncertainty about prognostication that we are comfortable with. This is one of the reasons the term “futility” is controversial and there is a push to use “potentially inappropriate” instead. The primary team had a different threshold for placing a DNR order and did not do it. That night, after I left the hospital, Mr Barry had a PEA (pulseless electrical activity) arrest and was resuscitated after 10 minutes of CPR. The next day, I noticed his bruised chest. He was on multiple medications to support his blood pressure.
 

My patient and a Hemingway protagonist

Whether by coincidence or irony, I started reading Ernest Hemingway’s short story “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” the same day that I met Mr. Barry. He reminded me of the story’s protagonist, Harry, lying on the cot with a gangrenous leg, waiting to die. Harry could sense death approaching. He reminisced about his past. All he wanted was to drink his “whiskey-soda.” “Darling, don’t drink that. We have to do everything we can,” his wife said. “You do it. I am tired,” Harry said, and continued to drink his whiskey-soda.

Mr. Barry looked tired. Tired of life? I can’t say with certainty. However, if I had to guess, the medical team’s heroics meant nothing to him. Unfortunately, he was not awake like Harry and could not do what he wished. I wondered what snippets of his life flashed before him as he lay on his bed at home for days. Did he want to have a whiskey-soda before dying? But we are not letting him die. Not easily anyway. We have to do everything we can: medications, coronary angiogram, dialysis, multiple rounds of CPR. Why?

In this country, we need permission to forgo CPR. If there are no advanced directives or next of kin available to discuss end-of-life care, performing CPR is the default status for all hospitalized patients, irrespective of the underlying severity of the illness. A unilateral DNR order written by a physician in good conscience (in a medically futile situation), but to which the patient has not consented, is generally invalid in most U.S. states. If health directives are not available, CPR will be administered on the presumption that the patient would want us to “do everything we can.” The medicolegal consequences and fear of not administering CPR is more profound than being found wrong and defying a patient’s wishes against CPR.

In patients with outside-hospital cardiac arrest, especially if related to ventricular fibrillation, early bystander CPR improves the survival rate. Hence, it makes sense for first responders and paramedics to administer CPR as the default option, focusing on the technique, rather than thinking about its utility based on the patient’s underlying comorbidities.

In the inpatient setting, however, physicians have enough information to comprehensively evaluate the patient. In a cohort of 5,690 critically ill ICU patients, obtained from a U.S. registry, the rate of survival to discharge after inpatient cardiac arrest is very low at 12.5%. Chronic health conditions, malignancy, end-stage renal disease, multiorgan dysfunction, need for vasopressor support, prior CPR, initial rhythm of asystole, or PEA advanced age were all associated with a less than 10% survival rate after CPR.

Dying is a process. Administering CPR to a dying patient is of little to no value. For Mr. Barry, it resulted in a bruised chest and broken ribs. James R. Jude, MD, one of the pioneers of closed chest compression, or modern-day CPR, wrote in 1965 that “resuscitation of the dying patient with irreparable damage to lungs, heart, kidneys, brain or any other vital system of the body has no medical, ethical, or moral justification. The techniques described in this monograph were designed to resuscitate the victim of acute insult, whether be it from drowning, electrical shock, untoward effect of drugs, anesthetic accident, heart block, acute myocardial infarction, or surgery.”

Yet, doctors continue to provide futile treatments at end of life for a variety of reasons: concerns about medico-legal risks, discomfort or inexperience with death and dying, uncertainty in prognostication, family requests, and organizational barriers such as lack of palliative services that can help lead end-of-life care discussions. Despite knowing that CPR has little benefit in critically ill patients with terminal illness and multiorgan dysfunction, we often ask the patient and their surrogate decision-makers: “If your heart stops, do you want us to restore your heart by pressing on the chest and giving electric shocks?” The very act of asking the question implies that CPR may be beneficial. We often do not go over the risks or offer an opinion on whether CPR should be performed. We take a neutral stance.

Anoxic brain injury, pain from broken ribs, and low likelihood of survival to discharge with acceptable neurologic recovery are rarely discussed in detail. Laypeople may overestimate the chances of survival after CPR and they may not comprehend that it does not reverse the dying process in patients with a terminal illness. When you ask about CPR, most families hear: “Do you want your loved one to live?” and the answer is nearly always “Yes.” We then administer CPR, thinking that we are respecting the patient’s autonomy in the medical decision-making process. However, in end-of-life care, elderly patients or surrogates may not fully understand the complexities involved or the outcomes of CPR. So, are we truly respecting their autonomy?
 

When to offer CPR?

In 2011, Billings and Krakauer, palliative care specialists from Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston, suggested that we focus on understanding our patient’s values and goals of care, and then decide whether to offer CPR, rather than taking a neutral stance. With this approach, we continue to respect the patient’s autonomy and also affirm our responsibility in providing care consistent with medical reality. We need to have the humility to accept that death is inevitable. Taking care of the dying to ensure a peaceful and dignified death is as much our moral and ethical responsibility as respecting a patient’s autonomy.

It has been 10 years since a group of physicians from Columbia University Medical Center, Harvard Medical School, MGH, and Boston Children’s Hospital proposed changes to how we determine resuscitation status. Instead of assuming that CPR is always wanted, they suggested three distinct approaches: consider CPR when the benefits versus risks are uncertain, and the patient is not end stage; recommend against CPR when there is a low likelihood of benefit and high likelihood of harm (e.g., patients with anoxic brain injury, advanced incurable cancer, or end-stage multiorgan dysfunction); and do not offer CPR to patients who will die imminently and have no chance of surviving CPR (e.g., patients with multiorgan dysfunction, increasing pressor requirements, and those who are actively dying without a single immediately reversible cause). I agree with their proposal.

Mr. Barry was actively dying. Unfortunately, we had neither his advanced directives nor access to family members or surrogates to discuss values and goals of care. Given the futility of administering CPR again, and based on our humanitarian principles, a moral and ethical responsibility to ensure a peaceful dying process, I and another ICU attending placed the DNR order. He passed away, peacefully, within a few hours.

That evening, as I was sitting on my porch reading the last page of “The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” my phone pinged. It was an email asking me to complete the final attestation for the death certificate. I imagined that Mr. Barry knew where he was going. He probably had his own special place – something beautiful and majestic, great and tall, dazzlingly white in the hot sun, like the snow-capped mountain of Kilimanjaro that Harry saw at the time of his death.

Dr. Mallidi is a general cardiologist at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital, UCSF. He disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

The goal of advanced ovarian cancer surgery is to remove all gross disease, or all visible and palpable disease implants. This became the established standard when improved survival was consistently observed among patients who had undergone complete surgical resection. Traditionally, definitions of no gross residual disease have been left in the hands, and eyes, of the surgeon. However, new technology has emerged which affords surgeons the ability to visualize ovarian cancer deposits that are imperceptible to the naked eye. But will this improve upon the poor cure rates for advanced ovarian cancer?

Many are familiar with the traditional definitions of “optimal” (less than 1 cm–sized deposits at any one location) and “suboptimal” (greater than 1 cm–sized deposits remaining) when referring to surgical cytoreduction of ovarian cancer. This nomenclature was introduced to define, categorize, and prognosticate patient groups after surgery. In recent years we have moved away from these descriptive definitions of ovarian cancer resection, borrowing from surgical oncology measures of surgical outcomes where “R0” defines surgical resection with negative margins, “R1” includes resection with positive microscopic margins (negative for tumor intraoperatively, but positive on microscopic pathology), and “R2” refers to macroscopic residual disease remaining.¹

In ovarian cancer, surgeons have adopted the expression R0 to include patients in whom there is no gross visible or palpable residual disease, a special, favorable subgrouping of the previous “optimal” group. R1 is applied to patients with macroscopic, residual disease that fits within the traditional “optimal” cytoreduction classification (<1 cm in any one location). Obviously, these are significant variations to the traditional surgical oncology definitions, but not without supporting data. For example, patients with no gross residual disease (now defined as “R0”) have been observed to have improved survival, compared with patients who are “optimally” debulked but with R1 (<1 cm) residual disease.² Therefore, this new goal of complete surgical resection has replaced the previous standard of “optimal” cytoreduction in which small macroscopic residual disease was acceptable.

Whether or not a surgery is completed with no gross residual disease is a subjective assessment made by the surgeon, and in practice, highly inaccurate. When a posttrial ad hoc analysis of 1,873 patients with advanced ovarian cancer who had been enrolled in a Gynecologic Oncology Group cooperative trial correlated surgeons’ assessments of “optimal” cytoreduction with objective postoperative radiographic findings (performed, on average, less than 1 month postoperatively) they found that postoperative CT scans identified lesions >1 cm in 40% of cases that had been characterized by surgeons as an “optimal” cytoreduction.³ Most commonly, discrepant lesions were identified in the upper abdominal quadrants and retroperitoneal aortic nodal regions. Therefore, surgeons’ subjective assessment of cytoreduction is prone to error, and given how important the completeness of cytoreduction is for clinical outcomes, there is interest in discovering methods to improve upon surgeons’ ability to discriminate volume of disease.

Pafolacianine (Cytalux, On Target Laboratories) is a novel drug that binds a fluorescent molecule to folic acid targeting the folate alpha receptors which are overexpressed on nonmucinous epithelial ovarian cancer cells compared with adjacent nonmalignant tissues.⁴ The drug is intravenously infused preoperatively and then visualized with companion near-infrared imaging devices during surgery to visualize its fluorescent signal where it is bound to ovarian cancer implants. In a phase 2 study of 178 patients with confirmed or suspected ovarian cancer, pafolacianine was able to detect implants of ovarian cancer in 26.9% of cases where the surgeon’s visual inspection was negative.⁵ Of note, the false-positive rate of this drug was not trivial, at 20%. Based on this efficacy data, the drug has been granted FDA approved for use in ovarian cancer surgery to augment the surgeon’s visualization of cancer. However, important questions remain unanswered by these preliminary data.

Will removal of additional microscopic ovarian cancer implants, only seen by pafolacianine, improve the survival of patients with ovarian cancer, and what effect will the addition of this extra surgery have on their surgical morbidity and risk? The use of pafolacianine to augment ovarian cancer debulking surgeries pivots on the premise that ovarian cancer outcomes are determined by surgical “effort” more than the biology of the disease. Otherwise said: The more we surgically remove, the more we cure. But this seems an old-fashioned notion, increasingly challenged by data. It has been shown that, when ovarian cancer debulking surgeries are necessarily more radical because of extensive disease distribution, prognosis is worse, compared with those patients with less extensive disease distribution.⁶ The effect of surgical effort contributes less than that of predetermined patterns of disease presentation. Additionally, genomic traits are different in tumors that are objectively determined to be not amenable to optimal cytoreduction, compared with resectable tumors.⁷ These data suggest that it is the disease, more than the surgeon, that most influences outcomes.

Additionally, the question of whether surgical removal of microscopic disease improves ovarian cancer survival has already been addressed with negative findings. The LION trial randomized 647 women with advanced ovarian cancer to primary cytoreductive surgery either with or without routine lymphadenectomy of clinically negative nodes.⁸ This study found no survival benefit to resecting clinically negative, microscopically positive nodes. In light of these data, it is difficult to imagine that there would be different results with the resection of microscopic peritoneal disease implants identified by pafolacianine.

While pafolacianine promises to move us closer to a true “R0” (negative margins) resection of ovarian cancer, is this even a feasible goal in a disease that is widely metastatic, particularly in the peritoneal cavity? What do “negative margins” mean in the peritoneal cavity? The sensitivity of pafolacianine in detecting microscopic disease is obviously not so high that it can guarantee patients a complete resection of a disseminated disease, and we still do not know what absolute benefit is derived from moving a little bit further on the continuum of surgical resection.

Perhaps augmentation of debulking is not the only, or best, use of pafolacianine for ovarian cancer surgery. Perhaps it might serve a role in diagnostics or staging of the disease rather than for a therapeutic purpose. In the meantime, we await ongoing clinical trials in this space to better inform clinicians what benefits, or harms, they might expect from the addition of this new drug as we continue to define the “optimal” surgical procedure for advanced ovarian cancer.

Dr. Emma Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Hermanek P, Wittekind C. Semin Surg Oncol 1994;10:12-20.

2. Elattar A et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev 2011 Aug 10;2011(8):CD007565.

3. Eskander RN et al. Gynecol Oncol 2018;149:525-30.

4. Randall LM et al. Gynecol Oncol 2019;155:63-8.

5. Food and Drug Administration. FDA approves pafolacianine for identifying malignant ovarian cancer lesions. 2021 Dec 1.

6. Horowitz NS et al. J Clin Oncol 2015;33:937-43.

7. Lee S et al. Cell Rep. 2020;31:107502.

8. Harter P et al. N Engl J Med 2019;380:822-32.

The goal of advanced ovarian cancer surgery is to remove all gross disease, or all visible and palpable disease implants. This became the established standard when improved survival was consistently observed among patients who had undergone complete surgical resection. Traditionally, definitions of no gross residual disease have been left in the hands, and eyes, of the surgeon. However, new technology has emerged which affords surgeons the ability to visualize ovarian cancer deposits that are imperceptible to the naked eye. But will this improve upon the poor cure rates for advanced ovarian cancer?

Many are familiar with the traditional definitions of “optimal” (less than 1 cm–sized deposits at any one location) and “suboptimal” (greater than 1 cm–sized deposits remaining) when referring to surgical cytoreduction of ovarian cancer. This nomenclature was introduced to define, categorize, and prognosticate patient groups after surgery. In recent years we have moved away from these descriptive definitions of ovarian cancer resection, borrowing from surgical oncology measures of surgical outcomes where “R0” defines surgical resection with negative margins, “R1” includes resection with positive microscopic margins (negative for tumor intraoperatively, but positive on microscopic pathology), and “R2” refers to macroscopic residual disease remaining.¹

In ovarian cancer, surgeons have adopted the expression R0 to include patients in whom there is no gross visible or palpable residual disease, a special, favorable subgrouping of the previous “optimal” group. R1 is applied to patients with macroscopic, residual disease that fits within the traditional “optimal” cytoreduction classification (<1 cm in any one location). Obviously, these are significant variations to the traditional surgical oncology definitions, but not without supporting data. For example, patients with no gross residual disease (now defined as “R0”) have been observed to have improved survival, compared with patients who are “optimally” debulked but with R1 (<1 cm) residual disease.² Therefore, this new goal of complete surgical resection has replaced the previous standard of “optimal” cytoreduction in which small macroscopic residual disease was acceptable.

Whether or not a surgery is completed with no gross residual disease is a subjective assessment made by the surgeon, and in practice, highly inaccurate. When a posttrial ad hoc analysis of 1,873 patients with advanced ovarian cancer who had been enrolled in a Gynecologic Oncology Group cooperative trial correlated surgeons’ assessments of “optimal” cytoreduction with objective postoperative radiographic findings (performed, on average, less than 1 month postoperatively) they found that postoperative CT scans identified lesions >1 cm in 40% of cases that had been characterized by surgeons as an “optimal” cytoreduction.³ Most commonly, discrepant lesions were identified in the upper abdominal quadrants and retroperitoneal aortic nodal regions. Therefore, surgeons’ subjective assessment of cytoreduction is prone to error, and given how important the completeness of cytoreduction is for clinical outcomes, there is interest in discovering methods to improve upon surgeons’ ability to discriminate volume of disease.

Pafolacianine (Cytalux, On Target Laboratories) is a novel drug that binds a fluorescent molecule to folic acid targeting the folate alpha receptors which are overexpressed on nonmucinous epithelial ovarian cancer cells compared with adjacent nonmalignant tissues.⁴ The drug is intravenously infused preoperatively and then visualized with companion near-infrared imaging devices during surgery to visualize its fluorescent signal where it is bound to ovarian cancer implants. In a phase 2 study of 178 patients with confirmed or suspected ovarian cancer, pafolacianine was able to detect implants of ovarian cancer in 26.9% of cases where the surgeon’s visual inspection was negative.⁵ Of note, the false-positive rate of this drug was not trivial, at 20%. Based on this efficacy data, the drug has been granted FDA approved for use in ovarian cancer surgery to augment the surgeon’s visualization of cancer. However, important questions remain unanswered by these preliminary data.

Will removal of additional microscopic ovarian cancer implants, only seen by pafolacianine, improve the survival of patients with ovarian cancer, and what effect will the addition of this extra surgery have on their surgical morbidity and risk? The use of pafolacianine to augment ovarian cancer debulking surgeries pivots on the premise that ovarian cancer outcomes are determined by surgical “effort” more than the biology of the disease. Otherwise said: The more we surgically remove, the more we cure. But this seems an old-fashioned notion, increasingly challenged by data. It has been shown that, when ovarian cancer debulking surgeries are necessarily more radical because of extensive disease distribution, prognosis is worse, compared with those patients with less extensive disease distribution.⁶ The effect of surgical effort contributes less than that of predetermined patterns of disease presentation. Additionally, genomic traits are different in tumors that are objectively determined to be not amenable to optimal cytoreduction, compared with resectable tumors.⁷ These data suggest that it is the disease, more than the surgeon, that most influences outcomes.

Additionally, the question of whether surgical removal of microscopic disease improves ovarian cancer survival has already been addressed with negative findings. The LION trial randomized 647 women with advanced ovarian cancer to primary cytoreductive surgery either with or without routine lymphadenectomy of clinically negative nodes.⁸ This study found no survival benefit to resecting clinically negative, microscopically positive nodes. In light of these data, it is difficult to imagine that there would be different results with the resection of microscopic peritoneal disease implants identified by pafolacianine.

While pafolacianine promises to move us closer to a true “R0” (negative margins) resection of ovarian cancer, is this even a feasible goal in a disease that is widely metastatic, particularly in the peritoneal cavity? What do “negative margins” mean in the peritoneal cavity? The sensitivity of pafolacianine in detecting microscopic disease is obviously not so high that it can guarantee patients a complete resection of a disseminated disease, and we still do not know what absolute benefit is derived from moving a little bit further on the continuum of surgical resection.

Perhaps augmentation of debulking is not the only, or best, use of pafolacianine for ovarian cancer surgery. Perhaps it might serve a role in diagnostics or staging of the disease rather than for a therapeutic purpose. In the meantime, we await ongoing clinical trials in this space to better inform clinicians what benefits, or harms, they might expect from the addition of this new drug as we continue to define the “optimal” surgical procedure for advanced ovarian cancer.

Dr. Emma Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Hermanek P, Wittekind C. Semin Surg Oncol 1994;10:12-20.

2. Elattar A et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev 2011 Aug 10;2011(8):CD007565.

3. Eskander RN et al. Gynecol Oncol 2018;149:525-30.

4. Randall LM et al. Gynecol Oncol 2019;155:63-8.

5. Food and Drug Administration. FDA approves pafolacianine for identifying malignant ovarian cancer lesions. 2021 Dec 1.

6. Horowitz NS et al. J Clin Oncol 2015;33:937-43.

7. Lee S et al. Cell Rep. 2020;31:107502.

8. Harter P et al. N Engl J Med 2019;380:822-32.

The goal of advanced ovarian cancer surgery is to remove all gross disease, or all visible and palpable disease implants. This became the established standard when improved survival was consistently observed among patients who had undergone complete surgical resection. Traditionally, definitions of no gross residual disease have been left in the hands, and eyes, of the surgeon. However, new technology has emerged which affords surgeons the ability to visualize ovarian cancer deposits that are imperceptible to the naked eye. But will this improve upon the poor cure rates for advanced ovarian cancer?

Many are familiar with the traditional definitions of “optimal” (less than 1 cm–sized deposits at any one location) and “suboptimal” (greater than 1 cm–sized deposits remaining) when referring to surgical cytoreduction of ovarian cancer. This nomenclature was introduced to define, categorize, and prognosticate patient groups after surgery. In recent years we have moved away from these descriptive definitions of ovarian cancer resection, borrowing from surgical oncology measures of surgical outcomes where “R0” defines surgical resection with negative margins, “R1” includes resection with positive microscopic margins (negative for tumor intraoperatively, but positive on microscopic pathology), and “R2” refers to macroscopic residual disease remaining.¹

In ovarian cancer, surgeons have adopted the expression R0 to include patients in whom there is no gross visible or palpable residual disease, a special, favorable subgrouping of the previous “optimal” group. R1 is applied to patients with macroscopic, residual disease that fits within the traditional “optimal” cytoreduction classification (<1 cm in any one location). Obviously, these are significant variations to the traditional surgical oncology definitions, but not without supporting data. For example, patients with no gross residual disease (now defined as “R0”) have been observed to have improved survival, compared with patients who are “optimally” debulked but with R1 (<1 cm) residual disease.² Therefore, this new goal of complete surgical resection has replaced the previous standard of “optimal” cytoreduction in which small macroscopic residual disease was acceptable.

Whether or not a surgery is completed with no gross residual disease is a subjective assessment made by the surgeon, and in practice, highly inaccurate. When a posttrial ad hoc analysis of 1,873 patients with advanced ovarian cancer who had been enrolled in a Gynecologic Oncology Group cooperative trial correlated surgeons’ assessments of “optimal” cytoreduction with objective postoperative radiographic findings (performed, on average, less than 1 month postoperatively) they found that postoperative CT scans identified lesions >1 cm in 40% of cases that had been characterized by surgeons as an “optimal” cytoreduction.³ Most commonly, discrepant lesions were identified in the upper abdominal quadrants and retroperitoneal aortic nodal regions. Therefore, surgeons’ subjective assessment of cytoreduction is prone to error, and given how important the completeness of cytoreduction is for clinical outcomes, there is interest in discovering methods to improve upon surgeons’ ability to discriminate volume of disease.

Pafolacianine (Cytalux, On Target Laboratories) is a novel drug that binds a fluorescent molecule to folic acid targeting the folate alpha receptors which are overexpressed on nonmucinous epithelial ovarian cancer cells compared with adjacent nonmalignant tissues.⁴ The drug is intravenously infused preoperatively and then visualized with companion near-infrared imaging devices during surgery to visualize its fluorescent signal where it is bound to ovarian cancer implants. In a phase 2 study of 178 patients with confirmed or suspected ovarian cancer, pafolacianine was able to detect implants of ovarian cancer in 26.9% of cases where the surgeon’s visual inspection was negative.⁵ Of note, the false-positive rate of this drug was not trivial, at 20%. Based on this efficacy data, the drug has been granted FDA approved for use in ovarian cancer surgery to augment the surgeon’s visualization of cancer. However, important questions remain unanswered by these preliminary data.

Will removal of additional microscopic ovarian cancer implants, only seen by pafolacianine, improve the survival of patients with ovarian cancer, and what effect will the addition of this extra surgery have on their surgical morbidity and risk? The use of pafolacianine to augment ovarian cancer debulking surgeries pivots on the premise that ovarian cancer outcomes are determined by surgical “effort” more than the biology of the disease. Otherwise said: The more we surgically remove, the more we cure. But this seems an old-fashioned notion, increasingly challenged by data. It has been shown that, when ovarian cancer debulking surgeries are necessarily more radical because of extensive disease distribution, prognosis is worse, compared with those patients with less extensive disease distribution.⁶ The effect of surgical effort contributes less than that of predetermined patterns of disease presentation. Additionally, genomic traits are different in tumors that are objectively determined to be not amenable to optimal cytoreduction, compared with resectable tumors.⁷ These data suggest that it is the disease, more than the surgeon, that most influences outcomes.

Additionally, the question of whether surgical removal of microscopic disease improves ovarian cancer survival has already been addressed with negative findings. The LION trial randomized 647 women with advanced ovarian cancer to primary cytoreductive surgery either with or without routine lymphadenectomy of clinically negative nodes.⁸ This study found no survival benefit to resecting clinically negative, microscopically positive nodes. In light of these data, it is difficult to imagine that there would be different results with the resection of microscopic peritoneal disease implants identified by pafolacianine.

While pafolacianine promises to move us closer to a true “R0” (negative margins) resection of ovarian cancer, is this even a feasible goal in a disease that is widely metastatic, particularly in the peritoneal cavity? What do “negative margins” mean in the peritoneal cavity? The sensitivity of pafolacianine in detecting microscopic disease is obviously not so high that it can guarantee patients a complete resection of a disseminated disease, and we still do not know what absolute benefit is derived from moving a little bit further on the continuum of surgical resection.

Perhaps augmentation of debulking is not the only, or best, use of pafolacianine for ovarian cancer surgery. Perhaps it might serve a role in diagnostics or staging of the disease rather than for a therapeutic purpose. In the meantime, we await ongoing clinical trials in this space to better inform clinicians what benefits, or harms, they might expect from the addition of this new drug as we continue to define the “optimal” surgical procedure for advanced ovarian cancer.

Dr. Emma Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Hermanek P, Wittekind C. Semin Surg Oncol 1994;10:12-20.

2. Elattar A et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev 2011 Aug 10;2011(8):CD007565.

3. Eskander RN et al. Gynecol Oncol 2018;149:525-30.

4. Randall LM et al. Gynecol Oncol 2019;155:63-8.

5. Food and Drug Administration. FDA approves pafolacianine for identifying malignant ovarian cancer lesions. 2021 Dec 1.

6. Horowitz NS et al. J Clin Oncol 2015;33:937-43.

7. Lee S et al. Cell Rep. 2020;31:107502.

8. Harter P et al. N Engl J Med 2019;380:822-32.

Violence against women remains a global dilemma in need of attention. Physical violence in particular, is the most prevalent type of violence across all genders, races, and nationalities.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says more than 43 million women and 38 million men report experiencing psychological aggression by an intimate partner in their lifetime. Meanwhile, 11 million women and 5 million men report enduring sexual or physical violence and intimate partner violence (IPV), and/or stalking by an intimate partner during their lifetimes, according to the CDC.1

COVID pandemic’s influence

Isolation tied to the COVID-19 pandemic has been linked to increased IPV. A study conducted by researchers at the University of California, Davis, suggested that extra stress experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic caused by income loss, and the inability to pay for housing and food exacerbated the prevalence of IPV early during the pandemic.⁶

That study, where researchers collected in surveys of nearly 400 adults in the beginning in April 2020 for 10 weeks, showed that more services and communication are needed so that frontline health care and food bank workers, for example, in addition to social workers, doctors, and therapists, can spot the signs and ask clients questions about potential IPV. They could then link survivors to pertinent assistance and resources.

Furthermore, multiple factors probably have played a pivotal role in increasing the prevalence of IPV during the COVID-19 pandemic. For instance, disruption to usual health and social services as well as diminished access to support systems, such as shelters, and charity helplines negatively affected the reporting of domestic violence.

Long before the pandemic, over the past decade, international and national bodies have played a crucial role in terms of improving the awareness and response to domestic violence.^7,8 In addition, several policies have been introduced in countries around the globe emphasizing the need to inquire routinely about domestic violence. Nevertheless, mental health services often fail to adequately address domestic violence in clinical encounters. A systematic review of domestic violence assessment screening performed in a variety of health care settings found that evidence was insufficient to conclude that routine inquiry improved morbidity and mortality among victims of IPV.⁹ So the question becomes: How can we get our patients to tell us about these experiences so we can intervene?
 

Gender differences in perpetuating IPV

Several studies have found that abuse can result in various mental illnesses, such as depression, PTSD, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. Again, men have a disproportionately higher rate of perpetrating IPV, compared with women. This theory has been a source of debate in the academic community for years, but recent research has confirmed that women do perpetuate violence against their partners to some extent.^10,11

Some members of the LGBTQ+ community also report experiencing violence from partners, so as clinicians, we also need to raise our awareness about the existence of violence among same-sex couples. In fact, a team of Italian researchers report more than 50% of gay men and almost 75% of lesbian women reported that they had been psychologically abused by a partner.¹² More research into this area is needed.
 

Our role as health care professionals

The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force advises that all clinic visits include regular IPV screening.¹³ But these screenings are all too rare. In fact, a meta-analysis of 19 trials of more than 1,600 participants showed only 9%-40% of doctors routinely test for IPV.¹⁴ That research clearly shows how important it is for all clinicians to execute IPV screening. However, numerous challenges toward screening exist, including personal discomfort, limited time during appointments, insufficient resources, and inadequate training.

One ongoing debate revolves around which clinician should screen for IPV. Should the psychiatrist carry out this role – or perhaps the primary care physician, nurse, or social worker? These issues become even more fraught when clinicians worry about offending the patient – especially if the clinician is a male.¹⁵

The bottom line is that physicians should inquire about intimate partner violence, because research indicates that women are more likely to reveal abuse when prompted. In addition, during physician appointments, they can use the physician-patient therapeutic connection to conduct a domestic violence evaluation, give resources to victims, and provide ongoing care. Patients who exhibit treatment resistance, persistent pain, depression, sleeplessness, and headaches should prompt psychiatrists to conduct additional investigations into the likelihood of intimate partner violence and domestic abuse.

W also should be attentive when counseling patients about domestic violence when suggesting life-changing events such as pregnancy, employment loss, separation, or divorce. Similar to the recommendations of the USPSTF that all women and men should be screened for IPV, it is suggested that physicians be conscious of facilitating a conversation and not being overtly judgmental while observing body cues. Using the statements such as “we have been hearing a lot of violence in our community lately” could be a segue to introduce the subject.

Asking the question of whether you are being hit rather than being abused has allowed more women to open up more about domestic violence. While physicians are aware that most victims might recant and often go back to their abusers, victims need to be counseled that the abuse might intensify and lead to death.

For women who perpetuate IPV and survivors of IPV, safety is the priority. Physicians should provide safety options and be the facilitators. Studies have shown that fewer victims get the referral to the supporting agencies when IPV is indicated, which puts their safety at risk. In women who commit IPV, clinicians should assess the role of the individual in an IPV disclosure. There are various treatment modalities, whether the violence is performed through self-defense, bidirectionally, or because of aggression.

With the advancement of technology, web-based training on how to ask for IPV, documentation, acknowledgment, and structured referral increase physicians’ confidence when faced with an IPV disclosure than none.¹⁶ Treatment modalities should include medication reconciliation and cognitive-behavioral therapy – focusing on emotion regulation.

Using instruments such as the danger assessment tool can help physicians intervene early, reducing the risk of domestic violence and IPV recurrence instead of using clinical assessment alone.¹⁷ Physicians should convey empathy, validate victims, and help, especially when abuse is reported.

Also, it is important to evaluate survivors’ safety. Counseling can help people rebuild their self-esteem. Structured referrals for psychiatric help and support services are needed to help survivors on the long road to recovery.

Training all physicians, regardless of specialty, is essential to improve prompt IPV identification and bring awareness to resources available to survivors when IPV is disclosed. Although we described an association between IPV victims becoming possible perpetrators of IPV, more long-term studies are required to show the various processes that influence IPV perpetration rates, especially by survivors.

We would also like international and national regulatory bodies to increase the awareness of IPV and adequately address IPV with special emphasis on how mental health services should assess, identify, and respond to services for people who are survivors and perpetrators of IPV.

Dr. Kumari, Dr. Otite, Dr. Afzal, Dr. Alcera, and Dr. Doumas are affiliated with Hackensack Meridian Health at Ocean Medical Center, Brick, N.J. They have no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Preventing intimate partner violence. 2020 Oct 9.

2. Yu R et al. PLOS Med. 16(12):e1002995. doi: 10.1371/journal.pmed.1002995.

3. Oram S et al. Epidemiol Psychiatr Sci. 2014 Dec;23(4):361-76.

4. Munro OE and Sellbom M. Pers Ment Health. 2020 Mar 11. doi: 10.1002/pmh.1480.

5. Sahraian A et al. Asian J Psychiatry. 2020 Jun. doi: 10.1016/j.ajp.2020.102062.

6. Nikos-Rose K. “COVID-19 Isolation Linked to Increased Domestic Violence, Researchers Suggest.” 2021 Feb 24. University of California, Davis.

7. World Health Organization. “Responding to intimate partner violence and sexual violence against women.” WHO clinical policy guidelines. 2013.

8. National Institute for Health and Care Excellence. “Domestic violence and abuse: Multi-agency working.” PH50. 2014 Feb 26.

9. Feder GS et al. Arch Intern Med. 2006;166(1):22-37.

10. Gondolf EW. Violence Against Women. 2014 Dec;20(12)1539-46.

11. Hamberger LK and Larsen SE. J Fam Violence. 2015;30(6):699-717.

12. Rollè L et al. Front Psychol. 21 Aug 2018. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2018.01506.

13. Paterno MT and Draughon JE. J Midwif Women Health. 2016;61(31):370-5.

14. Kalra N et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev. 2021 May 31;5(5)CD012423.

15. Larsen SE and Hamberger LK. J Fam Viol. 2015;30:1007-30.

16. Kalra N et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev. 2017 Feb;2017(2):CD012423.

17. Campbell JC et al. J Interpers Violence. 2009;24(4):653-74.

Violence against women remains a global dilemma in need of attention. Physical violence in particular, is the most prevalent type of violence across all genders, races, and nationalities.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says more than 43 million women and 38 million men report experiencing psychological aggression by an intimate partner in their lifetime. Meanwhile, 11 million women and 5 million men report enduring sexual or physical violence and intimate partner violence (IPV), and/or stalking by an intimate partner during their lifetimes, according to the CDC.1

COVID pandemic’s influence

Isolation tied to the COVID-19 pandemic has been linked to increased IPV. A study conducted by researchers at the University of California, Davis, suggested that extra stress experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic caused by income loss, and the inability to pay for housing and food exacerbated the prevalence of IPV early during the pandemic.⁶

That study, where researchers collected in surveys of nearly 400 adults in the beginning in April 2020 for 10 weeks, showed that more services and communication are needed so that frontline health care and food bank workers, for example, in addition to social workers, doctors, and therapists, can spot the signs and ask clients questions about potential IPV. They could then link survivors to pertinent assistance and resources.

Furthermore, multiple factors probably have played a pivotal role in increasing the prevalence of IPV during the COVID-19 pandemic. For instance, disruption to usual health and social services as well as diminished access to support systems, such as shelters, and charity helplines negatively affected the reporting of domestic violence.

Long before the pandemic, over the past decade, international and national bodies have played a crucial role in terms of improving the awareness and response to domestic violence.^7,8 In addition, several policies have been introduced in countries around the globe emphasizing the need to inquire routinely about domestic violence. Nevertheless, mental health services often fail to adequately address domestic violence in clinical encounters. A systematic review of domestic violence assessment screening performed in a variety of health care settings found that evidence was insufficient to conclude that routine inquiry improved morbidity and mortality among victims of IPV.⁹ So the question becomes: How can we get our patients to tell us about these experiences so we can intervene?
 

Gender differences in perpetuating IPV

Several studies have found that abuse can result in various mental illnesses, such as depression, PTSD, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. Again, men have a disproportionately higher rate of perpetrating IPV, compared with women. This theory has been a source of debate in the academic community for years, but recent research has confirmed that women do perpetuate violence against their partners to some extent.^10,11

Some members of the LGBTQ+ community also report experiencing violence from partners, so as clinicians, we also need to raise our awareness about the existence of violence among same-sex couples. In fact, a team of Italian researchers report more than 50% of gay men and almost 75% of lesbian women reported that they had been psychologically abused by a partner.¹² More research into this area is needed.
 

Our role as health care professionals

The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force advises that all clinic visits include regular IPV screening.¹³ But these screenings are all too rare. In fact, a meta-analysis of 19 trials of more than 1,600 participants showed only 9%-40% of doctors routinely test for IPV.¹⁴ That research clearly shows how important it is for all clinicians to execute IPV screening. However, numerous challenges toward screening exist, including personal discomfort, limited time during appointments, insufficient resources, and inadequate training.

One ongoing debate revolves around which clinician should screen for IPV. Should the psychiatrist carry out this role – or perhaps the primary care physician, nurse, or social worker? These issues become even more fraught when clinicians worry about offending the patient – especially if the clinician is a male.¹⁵

The bottom line is that physicians should inquire about intimate partner violence, because research indicates that women are more likely to reveal abuse when prompted. In addition, during physician appointments, they can use the physician-patient therapeutic connection to conduct a domestic violence evaluation, give resources to victims, and provide ongoing care. Patients who exhibit treatment resistance, persistent pain, depression, sleeplessness, and headaches should prompt psychiatrists to conduct additional investigations into the likelihood of intimate partner violence and domestic abuse.

W also should be attentive when counseling patients about domestic violence when suggesting life-changing events such as pregnancy, employment loss, separation, or divorce. Similar to the recommendations of the USPSTF that all women and men should be screened for IPV, it is suggested that physicians be conscious of facilitating a conversation and not being overtly judgmental while observing body cues. Using the statements such as “we have been hearing a lot of violence in our community lately” could be a segue to introduce the subject.

Asking the question of whether you are being hit rather than being abused has allowed more women to open up more about domestic violence. While physicians are aware that most victims might recant and often go back to their abusers, victims need to be counseled that the abuse might intensify and lead to death.

For women who perpetuate IPV and survivors of IPV, safety is the priority. Physicians should provide safety options and be the facilitators. Studies have shown that fewer victims get the referral to the supporting agencies when IPV is indicated, which puts their safety at risk. In women who commit IPV, clinicians should assess the role of the individual in an IPV disclosure. There are various treatment modalities, whether the violence is performed through self-defense, bidirectionally, or because of aggression.

With the advancement of technology, web-based training on how to ask for IPV, documentation, acknowledgment, and structured referral increase physicians’ confidence when faced with an IPV disclosure than none.¹⁶ Treatment modalities should include medication reconciliation and cognitive-behavioral therapy – focusing on emotion regulation.

Using instruments such as the danger assessment tool can help physicians intervene early, reducing the risk of domestic violence and IPV recurrence instead of using clinical assessment alone.¹⁷ Physicians should convey empathy, validate victims, and help, especially when abuse is reported.

Also, it is important to evaluate survivors’ safety. Counseling can help people rebuild their self-esteem. Structured referrals for psychiatric help and support services are needed to help survivors on the long road to recovery.

Training all physicians, regardless of specialty, is essential to improve prompt IPV identification and bring awareness to resources available to survivors when IPV is disclosed. Although we described an association between IPV victims becoming possible perpetrators of IPV, more long-term studies are required to show the various processes that influence IPV perpetration rates, especially by survivors.

We would also like international and national regulatory bodies to increase the awareness of IPV and adequately address IPV with special emphasis on how mental health services should assess, identify, and respond to services for people who are survivors and perpetrators of IPV.

Dr. Kumari, Dr. Otite, Dr. Afzal, Dr. Alcera, and Dr. Doumas are affiliated with Hackensack Meridian Health at Ocean Medical Center, Brick, N.J. They have no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Preventing intimate partner violence. 2020 Oct 9.

2. Yu R et al. PLOS Med. 16(12):e1002995. doi: 10.1371/journal.pmed.1002995.

3. Oram S et al. Epidemiol Psychiatr Sci. 2014 Dec;23(4):361-76.

4. Munro OE and Sellbom M. Pers Ment Health. 2020 Mar 11. doi: 10.1002/pmh.1480.

5. Sahraian A et al. Asian J Psychiatry. 2020 Jun. doi: 10.1016/j.ajp.2020.102062.

6. Nikos-Rose K. “COVID-19 Isolation Linked to Increased Domestic Violence, Researchers Suggest.” 2021 Feb 24. University of California, Davis.

7. World Health Organization. “Responding to intimate partner violence and sexual violence against women.” WHO clinical policy guidelines. 2013.

8. National Institute for Health and Care Excellence. “Domestic violence and abuse: Multi-agency working.” PH50. 2014 Feb 26.

9. Feder GS et al. Arch Intern Med. 2006;166(1):22-37.

10. Gondolf EW. Violence Against Women. 2014 Dec;20(12)1539-46.

11. Hamberger LK and Larsen SE. J Fam Violence. 2015;30(6):699-717.

12. Rollè L et al. Front Psychol. 21 Aug 2018. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2018.01506.

13. Paterno MT and Draughon JE. J Midwif Women Health. 2016;61(31):370-5.

14. Kalra N et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev. 2021 May 31;5(5)CD012423.

15. Larsen SE and Hamberger LK. J Fam Viol. 2015;30:1007-30.

16. Kalra N et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev. 2017 Feb;2017(2):CD012423.

17. Campbell JC et al. J Interpers Violence. 2009;24(4):653-74.

Violence against women remains a global dilemma in need of attention. Physical violence in particular, is the most prevalent type of violence across all genders, races, and nationalities.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says more than 43 million women and 38 million men report experiencing psychological aggression by an intimate partner in their lifetime. Meanwhile, 11 million women and 5 million men report enduring sexual or physical violence and intimate partner violence (IPV), and/or stalking by an intimate partner during their lifetimes, according to the CDC.1

COVID pandemic’s influence

Isolation tied to the COVID-19 pandemic has been linked to increased IPV. A study conducted by researchers at the University of California, Davis, suggested that extra stress experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic caused by income loss, and the inability to pay for housing and food exacerbated the prevalence of IPV early during the pandemic.⁶

That study, where researchers collected in surveys of nearly 400 adults in the beginning in April 2020 for 10 weeks, showed that more services and communication are needed so that frontline health care and food bank workers, for example, in addition to social workers, doctors, and therapists, can spot the signs and ask clients questions about potential IPV. They could then link survivors to pertinent assistance and resources.

Furthermore, multiple factors probably have played a pivotal role in increasing the prevalence of IPV during the COVID-19 pandemic. For instance, disruption to usual health and social services as well as diminished access to support systems, such as shelters, and charity helplines negatively affected the reporting of domestic violence.

Long before the pandemic, over the past decade, international and national bodies have played a crucial role in terms of improving the awareness and response to domestic violence.^7,8 In addition, several policies have been introduced in countries around the globe emphasizing the need to inquire routinely about domestic violence. Nevertheless, mental health services often fail to adequately address domestic violence in clinical encounters. A systematic review of domestic violence assessment screening performed in a variety of health care settings found that evidence was insufficient to conclude that routine inquiry improved morbidity and mortality among victims of IPV.⁹ So the question becomes: How can we get our patients to tell us about these experiences so we can intervene?
 

Gender differences in perpetuating IPV

Several studies have found that abuse can result in various mental illnesses, such as depression, PTSD, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. Again, men have a disproportionately higher rate of perpetrating IPV, compared with women. This theory has been a source of debate in the academic community for years, but recent research has confirmed that women do perpetuate violence against their partners to some extent.^10,11

Some members of the LGBTQ+ community also report experiencing violence from partners, so as clinicians, we also need to raise our awareness about the existence of violence among same-sex couples. In fact, a team of Italian researchers report more than 50% of gay men and almost 75% of lesbian women reported that they had been psychologically abused by a partner.¹² More research into this area is needed.
 

Our role as health care professionals

The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force advises that all clinic visits include regular IPV screening.¹³ But these screenings are all too rare. In fact, a meta-analysis of 19 trials of more than 1,600 participants showed only 9%-40% of doctors routinely test for IPV.¹⁴ That research clearly shows how important it is for all clinicians to execute IPV screening. However, numerous challenges toward screening exist, including personal discomfort, limited time during appointments, insufficient resources, and inadequate training.

One ongoing debate revolves around which clinician should screen for IPV. Should the psychiatrist carry out this role – or perhaps the primary care physician, nurse, or social worker? These issues become even more fraught when clinicians worry about offending the patient – especially if the clinician is a male.¹⁵

The bottom line is that physicians should inquire about intimate partner violence, because research indicates that women are more likely to reveal abuse when prompted. In addition, during physician appointments, they can use the physician-patient therapeutic connection to conduct a domestic violence evaluation, give resources to victims, and provide ongoing care. Patients who exhibit treatment resistance, persistent pain, depression, sleeplessness, and headaches should prompt psychiatrists to conduct additional investigations into the likelihood of intimate partner violence and domestic abuse.

W also should be attentive when counseling patients about domestic violence when suggesting life-changing events such as pregnancy, employment loss, separation, or divorce. Similar to the recommendations of the USPSTF that all women and men should be screened for IPV, it is suggested that physicians be conscious of facilitating a conversation and not being overtly judgmental while observing body cues. Using the statements such as “we have been hearing a lot of violence in our community lately” could be a segue to introduce the subject.

Asking the question of whether you are being hit rather than being abused has allowed more women to open up more about domestic violence. While physicians are aware that most victims might recant and often go back to their abusers, victims need to be counseled that the abuse might intensify and lead to death.

For women who perpetuate IPV and survivors of IPV, safety is the priority. Physicians should provide safety options and be the facilitators. Studies have shown that fewer victims get the referral to the supporting agencies when IPV is indicated, which puts their safety at risk. In women who commit IPV, clinicians should assess the role of the individual in an IPV disclosure. There are various treatment modalities, whether the violence is performed through self-defense, bidirectionally, or because of aggression.

With the advancement of technology, web-based training on how to ask for IPV, documentation, acknowledgment, and structured referral increase physicians’ confidence when faced with an IPV disclosure than none.¹⁶ Treatment modalities should include medication reconciliation and cognitive-behavioral therapy – focusing on emotion regulation.

Using instruments such as the danger assessment tool can help physicians intervene early, reducing the risk of domestic violence and IPV recurrence instead of using clinical assessment alone.¹⁷ Physicians should convey empathy, validate victims, and help, especially when abuse is reported.

Also, it is important to evaluate survivors’ safety. Counseling can help people rebuild their self-esteem. Structured referrals for psychiatric help and support services are needed to help survivors on the long road to recovery.

Training all physicians, regardless of specialty, is essential to improve prompt IPV identification and bring awareness to resources available to survivors when IPV is disclosed. Although we described an association between IPV victims becoming possible perpetrators of IPV, more long-term studies are required to show the various processes that influence IPV perpetration rates, especially by survivors.

We would also like international and national regulatory bodies to increase the awareness of IPV and adequately address IPV with special emphasis on how mental health services should assess, identify, and respond to services for people who are survivors and perpetrators of IPV.

Dr. Kumari, Dr. Otite, Dr. Afzal, Dr. Alcera, and Dr. Doumas are affiliated with Hackensack Meridian Health at Ocean Medical Center, Brick, N.J. They have no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Preventing intimate partner violence. 2020 Oct 9.

2. Yu R et al. PLOS Med. 16(12):e1002995. doi: 10.1371/journal.pmed.1002995.

3. Oram S et al. Epidemiol Psychiatr Sci. 2014 Dec;23(4):361-76.

4. Munro OE and Sellbom M. Pers Ment Health. 2020 Mar 11. doi: 10.1002/pmh.1480.

5. Sahraian A et al. Asian J Psychiatry. 2020 Jun. doi: 10.1016/j.ajp.2020.102062.

6. Nikos-Rose K. “COVID-19 Isolation Linked to Increased Domestic Violence, Researchers Suggest.” 2021 Feb 24. University of California, Davis.

7. World Health Organization. “Responding to intimate partner violence and sexual violence against women.” WHO clinical policy guidelines. 2013.

8. National Institute for Health and Care Excellence. “Domestic violence and abuse: Multi-agency working.” PH50. 2014 Feb 26.

9. Feder GS et al. Arch Intern Med. 2006;166(1):22-37.

10. Gondolf EW. Violence Against Women. 2014 Dec;20(12)1539-46.

11. Hamberger LK and Larsen SE. J Fam Violence. 2015;30(6):699-717.

12. Rollè L et al. Front Psychol. 21 Aug 2018. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2018.01506.

13. Paterno MT and Draughon JE. J Midwif Women Health. 2016;61(31):370-5.

14. Kalra N et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev. 2021 May 31;5(5)CD012423.

15. Larsen SE and Hamberger LK. J Fam Viol. 2015;30:1007-30.

16. Kalra N et al. Cochrane Database Syst Rev. 2017 Feb;2017(2):CD012423.

17. Campbell JC et al. J Interpers Violence. 2009;24(4):653-74.

Two years ago, I argued that independent care from nurse practitioners (NPs) and physician assistants (PAs) would not have ill effects on health outcomes. To the surprise of no one, NPs and PAs embraced the argument; physicians clobbered it.

My case had three pegs: One was that medicine isn’t rocket science and clinicians control a lot less than we think we do. The second peg was that technology levels the playing field of clinical care. High-sensitivity troponin assays, for instance, make missing MI a lot less likely. The third peg was empirical: Studies have found little difference in MD versus non–MD-led care. Looking back, I now see empiricism as the weakest part of the argument because the studies had so many limitations.

I update this viewpoint now because health care is increasingly delivered by NPs and PAs. And there are two concerning trends regarding NP education and experience. First is that nurses are turning to advanced practitioner training earlier in their careers – without gathering much bedside experience. And these training programs are increasingly likely to be online, with minimal hands-on clinical tutoring. 

Education and experience pop in my head often. Not every day, but many days I think back to my lucky 7 years in Indiana learning under the supervision of master clinicians – at a time when trainees were allowed the leeway to make decisions ... and mistakes. Then, when I joined private practice, I continued to learn from experienced practitioners.

It would be foolish to argue that training and experience aren’t important.

But here’s the thing: I still don’t see average health outcomes declining as a result of the rise in NPs and PAs. And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. The rise in nonphysician care will not be undone, at least any time soon.

I will make three points: First, I will bolster two of my old arguments as to why we shouldn’t be worried about non-MD clinicians, then I will propose some ideas to increase confidence in NP and PA care.
 

Health care does not equal health

On the matter of how much clinicians affect outcomes, a recently published randomized controlled trial performed in India found that subsidizing insurance care led to increased utilization of hospital services but had no significant effect on health outcomes. This follows the RAND and Oregon Health Insurance studies in the United States, which largely reported similar results.

It’s about the delta

Logos trumps pathos. Sure, my physician colleagues can tell scary anecdotes of bad outcomes caused by an inexperienced NP or PA. I would counter that by saying I have sat on our hospital’s peer review committee for 2 decades, including the era before NPs or PAs were practicing, and I have plenty of stories of physician errors. These include, of course, my own errors.

Logos: We must consider the difference between non–MD-led care and MD-led care.

My arguments from 2020 remain relevant today. Most medical problems are not engineering puzzles. Many, perhaps most, patients fall into an easy protocol – say, chest pain, dyspnea, or atrial fibrillation. With basic training, a motivated serious person quickly gains skill in recognizing and treating everyday problems.

And just 2 years on, technology further levels the playing field. Consider radiology in 2022 – it’s easy to take for granted the speed of the CT scan, the fidelity of the MRI, and the easy access to both in the U.S. hospital system. Less experienced clinicians have never had more tools to assist with diagnostics and therapeutics.

The expansion of team-based care has also mitigated the effects of inexperience. It took Americans longer than Canadians to figure out how helpful pharmacists could be. Pharmacists in my hospital now help us dose complicated medicines and protect us against prescribing errors.

Then there is the immediate access to online information. Gone are the days when you had to memorize long-QT syndromes. Book knowledge – that I spent years acquiring – now comes in seconds. The other day an NP corrected me. I asked, Are you sure? Boom, she took out her phone and showed me the evidence.

In sum, if it were even possible to measure the clinical competence of care from NP and PA versus physicians, there would be two bell-shaped curves with a tremendous amount of overlap. And that overlap would steadily increase as a given NP or PA gathered experience. (The NP in our electrophysiology division has more than 25 years’ experience in heart rhythm care, and it is common for colleagues to call her before one of us docs. Rightly so.)
 

Three basic proposals regarding NP and PA care

To ensure quality of care, I have three proposals.

It has always seemed strange to me that an NP or PA can flip from one field to another without a period of training. I can’t just change practice from electrophysiology to dermatology without doing a residency. But NPs and PAs can.

My first proposal would be that NPs and PAs spend a substantial period of training in a field before practice – a legit apprenticeship. The duration of this period is a matter of debate, but it ought to be standardized.

My second proposal is that, if physicians are required to pass certification exams, so should NPs. (PAs have an exam every 10 years.) The exam should be the same as (or very similar to) the physician exam, and it should be specific to their field of practice.

While I have argued (and still feel) that the American Board of Internal Medicine brand of certification is dubious, the fact remains that physicians must maintain proficiency in their field. Requiring NPs and PAs to do the same would help foster specialization. And while I can’t cite empirical evidence, specialization seems super-important. We have NPs at my hospital who have been in the same area for years, and they exude clinical competence.

Finally, I have come to believe that the best way for nearly any clinician to practice medicine is as part of a team. (The exception being primary care in rural areas where there are clinician shortages.)

On the matter of team care, I’ve practiced for a long time, but nearly every day I run situations by a colleague; often this person is an NP. The economist Friedrich Hayek proposed that dispersed knowledge always outpaces the wisdom of any individual. That notion pertains well to the increasing complexities and specialization of modern medical practice.

A person who commits to learning one area of medicine, enjoys helping people, asks often for help, and has the support of colleagues is set up to be a successful clinician – whether the letters after their name are APRN, PA, DO, or MD.

Dr. Mandrola practices cardiac electrophysiology in Louisville, Ky. He did not report any relevant financial disclosures. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Two years ago, I argued that independent care from nurse practitioners (NPs) and physician assistants (PAs) would not have ill effects on health outcomes. To the surprise of no one, NPs and PAs embraced the argument; physicians clobbered it.

My case had three pegs: One was that medicine isn’t rocket science and clinicians control a lot less than we think we do. The second peg was that technology levels the playing field of clinical care. High-sensitivity troponin assays, for instance, make missing MI a lot less likely. The third peg was empirical: Studies have found little difference in MD versus non–MD-led care. Looking back, I now see empiricism as the weakest part of the argument because the studies had so many limitations.

I update this viewpoint now because health care is increasingly delivered by NPs and PAs. And there are two concerning trends regarding NP education and experience. First is that nurses are turning to advanced practitioner training earlier in their careers – without gathering much bedside experience. And these training programs are increasingly likely to be online, with minimal hands-on clinical tutoring. 

Education and experience pop in my head often. Not every day, but many days I think back to my lucky 7 years in Indiana learning under the supervision of master clinicians – at a time when trainees were allowed the leeway to make decisions ... and mistakes. Then, when I joined private practice, I continued to learn from experienced practitioners.

It would be foolish to argue that training and experience aren’t important.

But here’s the thing: I still don’t see average health outcomes declining as a result of the rise in NPs and PAs. And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. The rise in nonphysician care will not be undone, at least any time soon.

I will make three points: First, I will bolster two of my old arguments as to why we shouldn’t be worried about non-MD clinicians, then I will propose some ideas to increase confidence in NP and PA care.
 

Health care does not equal health

On the matter of how much clinicians affect outcomes, a recently published randomized controlled trial performed in India found that subsidizing insurance care led to increased utilization of hospital services but had no significant effect on health outcomes. This follows the RAND and Oregon Health Insurance studies in the United States, which largely reported similar results.

It’s about the delta

Logos trumps pathos. Sure, my physician colleagues can tell scary anecdotes of bad outcomes caused by an inexperienced NP or PA. I would counter that by saying I have sat on our hospital’s peer review committee for 2 decades, including the era before NPs or PAs were practicing, and I have plenty of stories of physician errors. These include, of course, my own errors.

Logos: We must consider the difference between non–MD-led care and MD-led care.

My arguments from 2020 remain relevant today. Most medical problems are not engineering puzzles. Many, perhaps most, patients fall into an easy protocol – say, chest pain, dyspnea, or atrial fibrillation. With basic training, a motivated serious person quickly gains skill in recognizing and treating everyday problems.

And just 2 years on, technology further levels the playing field. Consider radiology in 2022 – it’s easy to take for granted the speed of the CT scan, the fidelity of the MRI, and the easy access to both in the U.S. hospital system. Less experienced clinicians have never had more tools to assist with diagnostics and therapeutics.

The expansion of team-based care has also mitigated the effects of inexperience. It took Americans longer than Canadians to figure out how helpful pharmacists could be. Pharmacists in my hospital now help us dose complicated medicines and protect us against prescribing errors.

Then there is the immediate access to online information. Gone are the days when you had to memorize long-QT syndromes. Book knowledge – that I spent years acquiring – now comes in seconds. The other day an NP corrected me. I asked, Are you sure? Boom, she took out her phone and showed me the evidence.

In sum, if it were even possible to measure the clinical competence of care from NP and PA versus physicians, there would be two bell-shaped curves with a tremendous amount of overlap. And that overlap would steadily increase as a given NP or PA gathered experience. (The NP in our electrophysiology division has more than 25 years’ experience in heart rhythm care, and it is common for colleagues to call her before one of us docs. Rightly so.)
 

Three basic proposals regarding NP and PA care

To ensure quality of care, I have three proposals.

It has always seemed strange to me that an NP or PA can flip from one field to another without a period of training. I can’t just change practice from electrophysiology to dermatology without doing a residency. But NPs and PAs can.

My first proposal would be that NPs and PAs spend a substantial period of training in a field before practice – a legit apprenticeship. The duration of this period is a matter of debate, but it ought to be standardized.

My second proposal is that, if physicians are required to pass certification exams, so should NPs. (PAs have an exam every 10 years.) The exam should be the same as (or very similar to) the physician exam, and it should be specific to their field of practice.

While I have argued (and still feel) that the American Board of Internal Medicine brand of certification is dubious, the fact remains that physicians must maintain proficiency in their field. Requiring NPs and PAs to do the same would help foster specialization. And while I can’t cite empirical evidence, specialization seems super-important. We have NPs at my hospital who have been in the same area for years, and they exude clinical competence.

Finally, I have come to believe that the best way for nearly any clinician to practice medicine is as part of a team. (The exception being primary care in rural areas where there are clinician shortages.)

On the matter of team care, I’ve practiced for a long time, but nearly every day I run situations by a colleague; often this person is an NP. The economist Friedrich Hayek proposed that dispersed knowledge always outpaces the wisdom of any individual. That notion pertains well to the increasing complexities and specialization of modern medical practice.

A person who commits to learning one area of medicine, enjoys helping people, asks often for help, and has the support of colleagues is set up to be a successful clinician – whether the letters after their name are APRN, PA, DO, or MD.

Dr. Mandrola practices cardiac electrophysiology in Louisville, Ky. He did not report any relevant financial disclosures. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Two years ago, I argued that independent care from nurse practitioners (NPs) and physician assistants (PAs) would not have ill effects on health outcomes. To the surprise of no one, NPs and PAs embraced the argument; physicians clobbered it.

My case had three pegs: One was that medicine isn’t rocket science and clinicians control a lot less than we think we do. The second peg was that technology levels the playing field of clinical care. High-sensitivity troponin assays, for instance, make missing MI a lot less likely. The third peg was empirical: Studies have found little difference in MD versus non–MD-led care. Looking back, I now see empiricism as the weakest part of the argument because the studies had so many limitations.

I update this viewpoint now because health care is increasingly delivered by NPs and PAs. And there are two concerning trends regarding NP education and experience. First is that nurses are turning to advanced practitioner training earlier in their careers – without gathering much bedside experience. And these training programs are increasingly likely to be online, with minimal hands-on clinical tutoring. 

Education and experience pop in my head often. Not every day, but many days I think back to my lucky 7 years in Indiana learning under the supervision of master clinicians – at a time when trainees were allowed the leeway to make decisions ... and mistakes. Then, when I joined private practice, I continued to learn from experienced practitioners.

It would be foolish to argue that training and experience aren’t important.

But here’s the thing: I still don’t see average health outcomes declining as a result of the rise in NPs and PAs. And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. The rise in nonphysician care will not be undone, at least any time soon.

I will make three points: First, I will bolster two of my old arguments as to why we shouldn’t be worried about non-MD clinicians, then I will propose some ideas to increase confidence in NP and PA care.
 

Health care does not equal health

On the matter of how much clinicians affect outcomes, a recently published randomized controlled trial performed in India found that subsidizing insurance care led to increased utilization of hospital services but had no significant effect on health outcomes. This follows the RAND and Oregon Health Insurance studies in the United States, which largely reported similar results.

It’s about the delta

Logos trumps pathos. Sure, my physician colleagues can tell scary anecdotes of bad outcomes caused by an inexperienced NP or PA. I would counter that by saying I have sat on our hospital’s peer review committee for 2 decades, including the era before NPs or PAs were practicing, and I have plenty of stories of physician errors. These include, of course, my own errors.

Logos: We must consider the difference between non–MD-led care and MD-led care.

My arguments from 2020 remain relevant today. Most medical problems are not engineering puzzles. Many, perhaps most, patients fall into an easy protocol – say, chest pain, dyspnea, or atrial fibrillation. With basic training, a motivated serious person quickly gains skill in recognizing and treating everyday problems.

And just 2 years on, technology further levels the playing field. Consider radiology in 2022 – it’s easy to take for granted the speed of the CT scan, the fidelity of the MRI, and the easy access to both in the U.S. hospital system. Less experienced clinicians have never had more tools to assist with diagnostics and therapeutics.

The expansion of team-based care has also mitigated the effects of inexperience. It took Americans longer than Canadians to figure out how helpful pharmacists could be. Pharmacists in my hospital now help us dose complicated medicines and protect us against prescribing errors.

Then there is the immediate access to online information. Gone are the days when you had to memorize long-QT syndromes. Book knowledge – that I spent years acquiring – now comes in seconds. The other day an NP corrected me. I asked, Are you sure? Boom, she took out her phone and showed me the evidence.

In sum, if it were even possible to measure the clinical competence of care from NP and PA versus physicians, there would be two bell-shaped curves with a tremendous amount of overlap. And that overlap would steadily increase as a given NP or PA gathered experience. (The NP in our electrophysiology division has more than 25 years’ experience in heart rhythm care, and it is common for colleagues to call her before one of us docs. Rightly so.)
 

Three basic proposals regarding NP and PA care

To ensure quality of care, I have three proposals.

It has always seemed strange to me that an NP or PA can flip from one field to another without a period of training. I can’t just change practice from electrophysiology to dermatology without doing a residency. But NPs and PAs can.

My first proposal would be that NPs and PAs spend a substantial period of training in a field before practice – a legit apprenticeship. The duration of this period is a matter of debate, but it ought to be standardized.

My second proposal is that, if physicians are required to pass certification exams, so should NPs. (PAs have an exam every 10 years.) The exam should be the same as (or very similar to) the physician exam, and it should be specific to their field of practice.

While I have argued (and still feel) that the American Board of Internal Medicine brand of certification is dubious, the fact remains that physicians must maintain proficiency in their field. Requiring NPs and PAs to do the same would help foster specialization. And while I can’t cite empirical evidence, specialization seems super-important. We have NPs at my hospital who have been in the same area for years, and they exude clinical competence.

Finally, I have come to believe that the best way for nearly any clinician to practice medicine is as part of a team. (The exception being primary care in rural areas where there are clinician shortages.)

On the matter of team care, I’ve practiced for a long time, but nearly every day I run situations by a colleague; often this person is an NP. The economist Friedrich Hayek proposed that dispersed knowledge always outpaces the wisdom of any individual. That notion pertains well to the increasing complexities and specialization of modern medical practice.

A person who commits to learning one area of medicine, enjoys helping people, asks often for help, and has the support of colleagues is set up to be a successful clinician – whether the letters after their name are APRN, PA, DO, or MD.

Dr. Mandrola practices cardiac electrophysiology in Louisville, Ky. He did not report any relevant financial disclosures. 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.

“Turns out smarter kids are made, not born.” The headline of the article leapt off the computer screen. Although I realize that it has limits when it comes to dissuading vaccine refusers, I believe that education is a critical element in the success of individuals and the societies they inhabit. However, I must admit to a bias based on my observations that, in general, cognitive skill is inherited. This is an opinion I suspect I share with most folks. You can understand why the article I discovered describing a recent study by several Harvard-based researchers caught my attention.

The study involved 33 mothers and their 1-year-old children. The researchers found that infants whose mothers were stressed and had a “fixed mindset” had lower brain activity than the infants of stressed mothers who held a “growth mindset.” You may be on top of the education literature but I had to do some heavy Googling to learn what was up with growth and fixed mindsets. Was this just a new riff on the whole mindfulness thing?

I quickly learned that in 2006 Carol Dweck, PhD, a psychologist now at Stanford, published a book titled “Mindset” (New York: Penguin Random House) in which she described individuals with a “fixed mindset” who believe that their personality or intelligence will not change over time. On the other hand, individuals with a “growth mindset” view their intelligence and personality as malleable. Her observations have spread across the education and self-help literature like a wildfire that has somehow been roaring along under my radar. I guess I have noticed a subtle change in emphasis when I hear some parents and educators praising a child’s effort in situations in which I might have expected them to say, “You’re so smart.” But, in general I have been clueless.

My initial impression was that this mindset stuff was just coining new buzz words to differentiate optimists from pessimists. But, here I am again revealing a fixed mindset bias. I probably should have said that someone demonstrating a growth mindset approach is “exercising optimism” instead of implying that they were simply born with a sunny disposition.

The growth mindset revolution has not been without skeptics and critics, which is not surprising because educators have a history of jumping on bandwagons before all the wheels have been completely tightened. However, the mindset approach does have some merit, especially for individuals in the center of the bell-shaped curve. We all know of individuals who have failed to meet or have exceeded what would seem to be rational expectations. It is likely that the degree to which a growth mindset approach was applied may be the explanation.

Which brings me to the question of whether we as pediatricians should be more careful of how we choose our words when talking to patients and parents. If the results of the study that alerted me to the growth mindset are reproducible, maybe we should be spending more time with new parents (all of whom are stressed by definition), helping them discover ways in which they can improve the situation they find themselves in by praising them for their efforts at parenting.

Should we be modeling growth mindset language by using it when we interact with our patients? For example, not just complimenting a child on the acquisition of a skill but adding that we were even more impressed by the effort required to acquire it. When we hear a parent clearly expressing a fixed mindset in describing their child should we correct them on the spot or make an appointment to discuss how adopting a growth mindset might help their child meet or exceed his or her potential?

Most smart children may be born that way, but there are always opportunities for improvement, and our patients and their parents need to believe that.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

“Turns out smarter kids are made, not born.” The headline of the article leapt off the computer screen. Although I realize that it has limits when it comes to dissuading vaccine refusers, I believe that education is a critical element in the success of individuals and the societies they inhabit. However, I must admit to a bias based on my observations that, in general, cognitive skill is inherited. This is an opinion I suspect I share with most folks. You can understand why the article I discovered describing a recent study by several Harvard-based researchers caught my attention.

The study involved 33 mothers and their 1-year-old children. The researchers found that infants whose mothers were stressed and had a “fixed mindset” had lower brain activity than the infants of stressed mothers who held a “growth mindset.” You may be on top of the education literature but I had to do some heavy Googling to learn what was up with growth and fixed mindsets. Was this just a new riff on the whole mindfulness thing?

I quickly learned that in 2006 Carol Dweck, PhD, a psychologist now at Stanford, published a book titled “Mindset” (New York: Penguin Random House) in which she described individuals with a “fixed mindset” who believe that their personality or intelligence will not change over time. On the other hand, individuals with a “growth mindset” view their intelligence and personality as malleable. Her observations have spread across the education and self-help literature like a wildfire that has somehow been roaring along under my radar. I guess I have noticed a subtle change in emphasis when I hear some parents and educators praising a child’s effort in situations in which I might have expected them to say, “You’re so smart.” But, in general I have been clueless.

My initial impression was that this mindset stuff was just coining new buzz words to differentiate optimists from pessimists. But, here I am again revealing a fixed mindset bias. I probably should have said that someone demonstrating a growth mindset approach is “exercising optimism” instead of implying that they were simply born with a sunny disposition.

The growth mindset revolution has not been without skeptics and critics, which is not surprising because educators have a history of jumping on bandwagons before all the wheels have been completely tightened. However, the mindset approach does have some merit, especially for individuals in the center of the bell-shaped curve. We all know of individuals who have failed to meet or have exceeded what would seem to be rational expectations. It is likely that the degree to which a growth mindset approach was applied may be the explanation.

Which brings me to the question of whether we as pediatricians should be more careful of how we choose our words when talking to patients and parents. If the results of the study that alerted me to the growth mindset are reproducible, maybe we should be spending more time with new parents (all of whom are stressed by definition), helping them discover ways in which they can improve the situation they find themselves in by praising them for their efforts at parenting.

Should we be modeling growth mindset language by using it when we interact with our patients? For example, not just complimenting a child on the acquisition of a skill but adding that we were even more impressed by the effort required to acquire it. When we hear a parent clearly expressing a fixed mindset in describing their child should we correct them on the spot or make an appointment to discuss how adopting a growth mindset might help their child meet or exceed his or her potential?

Most smart children may be born that way, but there are always opportunities for improvement, and our patients and their parents need to believe that.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

“Turns out smarter kids are made, not born.” The headline of the article leapt off the computer screen. Although I realize that it has limits when it comes to dissuading vaccine refusers, I believe that education is a critical element in the success of individuals and the societies they inhabit. However, I must admit to a bias based on my observations that, in general, cognitive skill is inherited. This is an opinion I suspect I share with most folks. You can understand why the article I discovered describing a recent study by several Harvard-based researchers caught my attention.

The study involved 33 mothers and their 1-year-old children. The researchers found that infants whose mothers were stressed and had a “fixed mindset” had lower brain activity than the infants of stressed mothers who held a “growth mindset.” You may be on top of the education literature but I had to do some heavy Googling to learn what was up with growth and fixed mindsets. Was this just a new riff on the whole mindfulness thing?

I quickly learned that in 2006 Carol Dweck, PhD, a psychologist now at Stanford, published a book titled “Mindset” (New York: Penguin Random House) in which she described individuals with a “fixed mindset” who believe that their personality or intelligence will not change over time. On the other hand, individuals with a “growth mindset” view their intelligence and personality as malleable. Her observations have spread across the education and self-help literature like a wildfire that has somehow been roaring along under my radar. I guess I have noticed a subtle change in emphasis when I hear some parents and educators praising a child’s effort in situations in which I might have expected them to say, “You’re so smart.” But, in general I have been clueless.

My initial impression was that this mindset stuff was just coining new buzz words to differentiate optimists from pessimists. But, here I am again revealing a fixed mindset bias. I probably should have said that someone demonstrating a growth mindset approach is “exercising optimism” instead of implying that they were simply born with a sunny disposition.

The growth mindset revolution has not been without skeptics and critics, which is not surprising because educators have a history of jumping on bandwagons before all the wheels have been completely tightened. However, the mindset approach does have some merit, especially for individuals in the center of the bell-shaped curve. We all know of individuals who have failed to meet or have exceeded what would seem to be rational expectations. It is likely that the degree to which a growth mindset approach was applied may be the explanation.

Which brings me to the question of whether we as pediatricians should be more careful of how we choose our words when talking to patients and parents. If the results of the study that alerted me to the growth mindset are reproducible, maybe we should be spending more time with new parents (all of whom are stressed by definition), helping them discover ways in which they can improve the situation they find themselves in by praising them for their efforts at parenting.

Should we be modeling growth mindset language by using it when we interact with our patients? For example, not just complimenting a child on the acquisition of a skill but adding that we were even more impressed by the effort required to acquire it. When we hear a parent clearly expressing a fixed mindset in describing their child should we correct them on the spot or make an appointment to discuss how adopting a growth mindset might help their child meet or exceed his or her potential?

Most smart children may be born that way, but there are always opportunities for improvement, and our patients and their parents need to believe that.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

The experience of practicing reproductive psychiatry in the context of the pandemic has highlighted unique situations I’ve written about in previous columns that have affected pregnant and postpartum women during the pandemic, such as the management of anxiety and insomnia.

The pandemic has also seen a shift to telemedicine and an opportunity to use virtual platforms to engage with colleagues in our subspecialty across the country. These forums of engagement, which we realize virtually with so many of our colleagues, has prompted me to refine and galvanize what I consider to be some principles that guide frequently encountered clinical scenarios in reproductive psychiatry.

To open 2022, I wanted to revisit the practices I nearly “always” (or conversely, “never”) follow as a reproductive psychiatrist across the numerous clinical situations and variations on the associated clinical themes encountered as we see patients during pregnancy and the postpartum period.
 

Things we ‘always’ do

1. I continue to make maternal euthymia the North Star of treatment before, during, and after pregnancy.

Before pregnancy, maternal euthymia may be realized through optimization of pharmacologic and nonpharmacologic treatments and waiting to conceive until patients are emotionally well. Sustaining euthymia during pregnancy is a critical issue because of the extent to which euthymia during pregnancy predicts postpartum course. According to many studies, postpartum euthymia is the strongest predictor of long-term neurobehavioral outcome and risk for later child psychopathology. At the end of the day, there are few things I would not do with respect to treatment of maternal psychiatric disorder if the upside afforded maternal euthymia.

2. I almost always treat with consistency of medication across the peripartum period.

Although there have been discussions about the wisdom of changing medications, such as antidepressants, benzodiazepines, and mood stabilizers, that have afforded euthymia during pregnancy as patients approach their delivery date, the evidence base supporting switching medications at that time is exceedingly sparse. The time to adjust or to modify is typically not just prior to delivery unless it is to prevent postpartum psychiatric disorder (see below).

3. I simplify regimens before pregnancy if it’s unclear which medications have afforded patients euthymia.

We have a growing appreciation that polypharmacy is the rule in treatment of affective disorder for both unipolar and bipolar illness. Consultation before pregnancy is the ideal time to take a particularly careful history and think about simplifying regimens where adding medicines hasn’t clearly provided enhanced clinical benefit to the patient.

4. When making a treatment plan for psychiatric disorder during pregnancy, I consider the impact of untreated psychiatric disorder (even if not absolutely quantifiable) on fetal, neonatal, and maternal well-being.

Perhaps now more than even 5-10 years ago, we have better data describing the adverse effects of untreated psychiatric illness on fetal, neonatal, and maternal well-being.

We always try to deliberately consider the effect of a specific treatment on fetal well-being. Less attention (and science) has focused on the effect on pregnancy of deferring treatment; historically, this has not been adequately quantified in the risk-benefit decision. Yet, there is growing evidence of the increased adverse effects of activating the stress axis on everything from intrauterine fetal programming in the brain to effects on obstetrical outcomes such as preterm labor and delivery.

5. I appreciate the value of postpartum prophylaxis for pregnant women with bipolar disorder to mitigate risk of relapse.

We have spoken over the last 20 months of the pandemic, particularly in reproductive psychiatry circles, about the importance of keeping reproductive-age women with bipolar disorder emotionally well as they plan to conceive, during pregnancy, and in the postpartum period. The management of bipolar disorder during this time can be a humbling experience. Clinical roughening can be quick and severe, and so we do everything that we can for these women.

The area in which we have the strongest evidence base for mitigating risk with bipolar women is the value of postpartum prophylaxis during the peripartum period, regardless of what patients have done with their mood-stabilizing medications during pregnancy. Given the risk for postpartum disease, even though there are varying amounts of evidence on prophylactic benefit of specific mood stabilizers (i.e., lithium vs. atypical antipsychotics), the value of prophylaxis against worsening of bipolar disorder postpartum is widely accepted.

The importance of this has been particularly underscored during the pandemic where postpartum support, although available, has been more tenuous given the fluctuations in COVID-19 status around the country. The availability of friends and loved ones as support during the postpartum period has become less reliable in certain circumstances during the pandemic. In some cases, COVID-19 surges have wreaked havoc on travel plans and support persons have contracted the virus, rendering on-site support nonviable given safety concerns. Last-minute shifts of support plans have been responsible for disruption of care plans for new moms and by extension, have affected the ability to protect the sleep of bipolar women, which is critical. Keeping bipolar women well during the postpartum period with plans and backup plans for management remains critical.
 

Things we ‘never’ do

1. I never taper antidepressants (just prior to delivery), I never check plasma levels of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (across pregnancy, or just prior to labor and delivery), and I never use sodium valproate (during pregnancy).

Although there has been some discussion about the potential to mitigate risk for maternal or neonatal toxicity with lowering of agents such as lithium or lamotrigine during pregnancy, I do not routinely check plasma levels or arbitrarily change the dose of antidepressants, lithium, or lamotrigine during pregnancy in the absence of clinical symptoms.

We know full well that plasma levels of medications decline during pregnancy because of hemodilution with lithium and antidepressants and, in the case of lamotrigine, the effects of rising estrogen concentration during pregnancy on the metabolism of lamotrigine. While several studies have shown the decrease of SSRI concentration during pregnancy absent a change in dose of medication, these data have not correlated changes in plasma concentration of SSRI with a frank change in clinical status across pregnancy. Unlike what we see in conditions like epilepsy, where doses are increased to maintain therapeutic plasma levels to mitigate risk for seizure, those therapeutic plasma levels do not clearly exist for the psychiatric medications most widely used to treat psychiatric disorders.

We also almost never use sodium valproate in reproductive-age women despite its efficacy in both the acute and maintenance treatment of bipolar disorder given the risk of both major malformations associated with first-trimester fetal exposure to valproate and the data suggesting longer-term adverse neurobehavioral effects associated with its use during pregnancy.

2. We never suggest patients defer pregnancy based on their underlying psychiatric disorder.

Our role is to provide the best information regarding reproductive safety of psychiatric medications and risks of untreated psychiatric disorder to patients as they and relevant parties weigh the risks of pursuing one treatment or another. Those are private choices, and women and their partners make private decisions applying their own calculus with respect to moving forward with plans to conceive.

3. We never switch antidepressants once a woman has become pregnant.

Although we continue to see patients switched to older SSRIs such as sertraline with documentation of pregnancy, a patient’s road to getting well is sometimes very lengthy. In the absence of indicting reproductive safety data for any particular antidepressant, for patients who have gotten well on an antidepressant, even one for which we have less information, we stay the course and do not switch arbitrarily to an older SSRI for which we may have more reproductive safety data.

If we have the luxury prior to pregnancy to switch a patient to an untried and better studied antidepressant with more data supporting safety, we do so. But this is rarely the case. More often, we see women presenting with a newly documented pregnancy (frequently unplanned, with half of pregnancies across the country still being unplanned across sociodemographic lines) on an antidepressant with varying amounts of reproductive safety information available for the medicine being taken, and frequently after failed previous trials of other antidepressants. In this scenario, we rarely see the time of a newly documented pregnancy as an opportunity to pursue a new trial of an antidepressant without known efficacy for that patient; we stay the course and hope for sustained euthymia on the drug which has afforded euthymia to date.
 

Final thoughts

Dos and don’ts are relative in reproductive psychiatry. We tend to apply available data and clinical experience as we guide patients on a case-by-case basis, considering the most currently available rigorous reproductive safety data, as well as the individual patient’s clinical status and her personal wishes.

Dr. Cohen is the director of the Ammon-Pinizzotto Center for Women’s Mental Health at Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH) in Boston, which provides information resources and conducts clinical care and research in reproductive mental health. He has been a consultant to manufacturers of psychiatric medications. Email Dr. Cohen at obnews@mdedge.com.

The experience of practicing reproductive psychiatry in the context of the pandemic has highlighted unique situations I’ve written about in previous columns that have affected pregnant and postpartum women during the pandemic, such as the management of anxiety and insomnia.

The pandemic has also seen a shift to telemedicine and an opportunity to use virtual platforms to engage with colleagues in our subspecialty across the country. These forums of engagement, which we realize virtually with so many of our colleagues, has prompted me to refine and galvanize what I consider to be some principles that guide frequently encountered clinical scenarios in reproductive psychiatry.

To open 2022, I wanted to revisit the practices I nearly “always” (or conversely, “never”) follow as a reproductive psychiatrist across the numerous clinical situations and variations on the associated clinical themes encountered as we see patients during pregnancy and the postpartum period.
 

Things we ‘always’ do

1. I continue to make maternal euthymia the North Star of treatment before, during, and after pregnancy.

Before pregnancy, maternal euthymia may be realized through optimization of pharmacologic and nonpharmacologic treatments and waiting to conceive until patients are emotionally well. Sustaining euthymia during pregnancy is a critical issue because of the extent to which euthymia during pregnancy predicts postpartum course. According to many studies, postpartum euthymia is the strongest predictor of long-term neurobehavioral outcome and risk for later child psychopathology. At the end of the day, there are few things I would not do with respect to treatment of maternal psychiatric disorder if the upside afforded maternal euthymia.

2. I almost always treat with consistency of medication across the peripartum period.

Although there have been discussions about the wisdom of changing medications, such as antidepressants, benzodiazepines, and mood stabilizers, that have afforded euthymia during pregnancy as patients approach their delivery date, the evidence base supporting switching medications at that time is exceedingly sparse. The time to adjust or to modify is typically not just prior to delivery unless it is to prevent postpartum psychiatric disorder (see below).

3. I simplify regimens before pregnancy if it’s unclear which medications have afforded patients euthymia.

We have a growing appreciation that polypharmacy is the rule in treatment of affective disorder for both unipolar and bipolar illness. Consultation before pregnancy is the ideal time to take a particularly careful history and think about simplifying regimens where adding medicines hasn’t clearly provided enhanced clinical benefit to the patient.

4. When making a treatment plan for psychiatric disorder during pregnancy, I consider the impact of untreated psychiatric disorder (even if not absolutely quantifiable) on fetal, neonatal, and maternal well-being.

Perhaps now more than even 5-10 years ago, we have better data describing the adverse effects of untreated psychiatric illness on fetal, neonatal, and maternal well-being.

We always try to deliberately consider the effect of a specific treatment on fetal well-being. Less attention (and science) has focused on the effect on pregnancy of deferring treatment; historically, this has not been adequately quantified in the risk-benefit decision. Yet, there is growing evidence of the increased adverse effects of activating the stress axis on everything from intrauterine fetal programming in the brain to effects on obstetrical outcomes such as preterm labor and delivery.

5. I appreciate the value of postpartum prophylaxis for pregnant women with bipolar disorder to mitigate risk of relapse.

We have spoken over the last 20 months of the pandemic, particularly in reproductive psychiatry circles, about the importance of keeping reproductive-age women with bipolar disorder emotionally well as they plan to conceive, during pregnancy, and in the postpartum period. The management of bipolar disorder during this time can be a humbling experience. Clinical roughening can be quick and severe, and so we do everything that we can for these women.

The area in which we have the strongest evidence base for mitigating risk with bipolar women is the value of postpartum prophylaxis during the peripartum period, regardless of what patients have done with their mood-stabilizing medications during pregnancy. Given the risk for postpartum disease, even though there are varying amounts of evidence on prophylactic benefit of specific mood stabilizers (i.e., lithium vs. atypical antipsychotics), the value of prophylaxis against worsening of bipolar disorder postpartum is widely accepted.

The importance of this has been particularly underscored during the pandemic where postpartum support, although available, has been more tenuous given the fluctuations in COVID-19 status around the country. The availability of friends and loved ones as support during the postpartum period has become less reliable in certain circumstances during the pandemic. In some cases, COVID-19 surges have wreaked havoc on travel plans and support persons have contracted the virus, rendering on-site support nonviable given safety concerns. Last-minute shifts of support plans have been responsible for disruption of care plans for new moms and by extension, have affected the ability to protect the sleep of bipolar women, which is critical. Keeping bipolar women well during the postpartum period with plans and backup plans for management remains critical.
 

Things we ‘never’ do

1. I never taper antidepressants (just prior to delivery), I never check plasma levels of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (across pregnancy, or just prior to labor and delivery), and I never use sodium valproate (during pregnancy).

Although there has been some discussion about the potential to mitigate risk for maternal or neonatal toxicity with lowering of agents such as lithium or lamotrigine during pregnancy, I do not routinely check plasma levels or arbitrarily change the dose of antidepressants, lithium, or lamotrigine during pregnancy in the absence of clinical symptoms.

We know full well that plasma levels of medications decline during pregnancy because of hemodilution with lithium and antidepressants and, in the case of lamotrigine, the effects of rising estrogen concentration during pregnancy on the metabolism of lamotrigine. While several studies have shown the decrease of SSRI concentration during pregnancy absent a change in dose of medication, these data have not correlated changes in plasma concentration of SSRI with a frank change in clinical status across pregnancy. Unlike what we see in conditions like epilepsy, where doses are increased to maintain therapeutic plasma levels to mitigate risk for seizure, those therapeutic plasma levels do not clearly exist for the psychiatric medications most widely used to treat psychiatric disorders.

We also almost never use sodium valproate in reproductive-age women despite its efficacy in both the acute and maintenance treatment of bipolar disorder given the risk of both major malformations associated with first-trimester fetal exposure to valproate and the data suggesting longer-term adverse neurobehavioral effects associated with its use during pregnancy.

2. We never suggest patients defer pregnancy based on their underlying psychiatric disorder.

Our role is to provide the best information regarding reproductive safety of psychiatric medications and risks of untreated psychiatric disorder to patients as they and relevant parties weigh the risks of pursuing one treatment or another. Those are private choices, and women and their partners make private decisions applying their own calculus with respect to moving forward with plans to conceive.

3. We never switch antidepressants once a woman has become pregnant.

Although we continue to see patients switched to older SSRIs such as sertraline with documentation of pregnancy, a patient’s road to getting well is sometimes very lengthy. In the absence of indicting reproductive safety data for any particular antidepressant, for patients who have gotten well on an antidepressant, even one for which we have less information, we stay the course and do not switch arbitrarily to an older SSRI for which we may have more reproductive safety data.

If we have the luxury prior to pregnancy to switch a patient to an untried and better studied antidepressant with more data supporting safety, we do so. But this is rarely the case. More often, we see women presenting with a newly documented pregnancy (frequently unplanned, with half of pregnancies across the country still being unplanned across sociodemographic lines) on an antidepressant with varying amounts of reproductive safety information available for the medicine being taken, and frequently after failed previous trials of other antidepressants. In this scenario, we rarely see the time of a newly documented pregnancy as an opportunity to pursue a new trial of an antidepressant without known efficacy for that patient; we stay the course and hope for sustained euthymia on the drug which has afforded euthymia to date.
 

Final thoughts

Dos and don’ts are relative in reproductive psychiatry. We tend to apply available data and clinical experience as we guide patients on a case-by-case basis, considering the most currently available rigorous reproductive safety data, as well as the individual patient’s clinical status and her personal wishes.

Dr. Cohen is the director of the Ammon-Pinizzotto Center for Women’s Mental Health at Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH) in Boston, which provides information resources and conducts clinical care and research in reproductive mental health. He has been a consultant to manufacturers of psychiatric medications. Email Dr. Cohen at obnews@mdedge.com.

The experience of practicing reproductive psychiatry in the context of the pandemic has highlighted unique situations I’ve written about in previous columns that have affected pregnant and postpartum women during the pandemic, such as the management of anxiety and insomnia.

The pandemic has also seen a shift to telemedicine and an opportunity to use virtual platforms to engage with colleagues in our subspecialty across the country. These forums of engagement, which we realize virtually with so many of our colleagues, has prompted me to refine and galvanize what I consider to be some principles that guide frequently encountered clinical scenarios in reproductive psychiatry.

To open 2022, I wanted to revisit the practices I nearly “always” (or conversely, “never”) follow as a reproductive psychiatrist across the numerous clinical situations and variations on the associated clinical themes encountered as we see patients during pregnancy and the postpartum period.
 

Things we ‘always’ do

1. I continue to make maternal euthymia the North Star of treatment before, during, and after pregnancy.

Before pregnancy, maternal euthymia may be realized through optimization of pharmacologic and nonpharmacologic treatments and waiting to conceive until patients are emotionally well. Sustaining euthymia during pregnancy is a critical issue because of the extent to which euthymia during pregnancy predicts postpartum course. According to many studies, postpartum euthymia is the strongest predictor of long-term neurobehavioral outcome and risk for later child psychopathology. At the end of the day, there are few things I would not do with respect to treatment of maternal psychiatric disorder if the upside afforded maternal euthymia.

2. I almost always treat with consistency of medication across the peripartum period.

Although there have been discussions about the wisdom of changing medications, such as antidepressants, benzodiazepines, and mood stabilizers, that have afforded euthymia during pregnancy as patients approach their delivery date, the evidence base supporting switching medications at that time is exceedingly sparse. The time to adjust or to modify is typically not just prior to delivery unless it is to prevent postpartum psychiatric disorder (see below).

3. I simplify regimens before pregnancy if it’s unclear which medications have afforded patients euthymia.

We have a growing appreciation that polypharmacy is the rule in treatment of affective disorder for both unipolar and bipolar illness. Consultation before pregnancy is the ideal time to take a particularly careful history and think about simplifying regimens where adding medicines hasn’t clearly provided enhanced clinical benefit to the patient.

4. When making a treatment plan for psychiatric disorder during pregnancy, I consider the impact of untreated psychiatric disorder (even if not absolutely quantifiable) on fetal, neonatal, and maternal well-being.

Perhaps now more than even 5-10 years ago, we have better data describing the adverse effects of untreated psychiatric illness on fetal, neonatal, and maternal well-being.

We always try to deliberately consider the effect of a specific treatment on fetal well-being. Less attention (and science) has focused on the effect on pregnancy of deferring treatment; historically, this has not been adequately quantified in the risk-benefit decision. Yet, there is growing evidence of the increased adverse effects of activating the stress axis on everything from intrauterine fetal programming in the brain to effects on obstetrical outcomes such as preterm labor and delivery.

5. I appreciate the value of postpartum prophylaxis for pregnant women with bipolar disorder to mitigate risk of relapse.

We have spoken over the last 20 months of the pandemic, particularly in reproductive psychiatry circles, about the importance of keeping reproductive-age women with bipolar disorder emotionally well as they plan to conceive, during pregnancy, and in the postpartum period. The management of bipolar disorder during this time can be a humbling experience. Clinical roughening can be quick and severe, and so we do everything that we can for these women.

The area in which we have the strongest evidence base for mitigating risk with bipolar women is the value of postpartum prophylaxis during the peripartum period, regardless of what patients have done with their mood-stabilizing medications during pregnancy. Given the risk for postpartum disease, even though there are varying amounts of evidence on prophylactic benefit of specific mood stabilizers (i.e., lithium vs. atypical antipsychotics), the value of prophylaxis against worsening of bipolar disorder postpartum is widely accepted.

The importance of this has been particularly underscored during the pandemic where postpartum support, although available, has been more tenuous given the fluctuations in COVID-19 status around the country. The availability of friends and loved ones as support during the postpartum period has become less reliable in certain circumstances during the pandemic. In some cases, COVID-19 surges have wreaked havoc on travel plans and support persons have contracted the virus, rendering on-site support nonviable given safety concerns. Last-minute shifts of support plans have been responsible for disruption of care plans for new moms and by extension, have affected the ability to protect the sleep of bipolar women, which is critical. Keeping bipolar women well during the postpartum period with plans and backup plans for management remains critical.
 

Things we ‘never’ do

1. I never taper antidepressants (just prior to delivery), I never check plasma levels of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (across pregnancy, or just prior to labor and delivery), and I never use sodium valproate (during pregnancy).

Although there has been some discussion about the potential to mitigate risk for maternal or neonatal toxicity with lowering of agents such as lithium or lamotrigine during pregnancy, I do not routinely check plasma levels or arbitrarily change the dose of antidepressants, lithium, or lamotrigine during pregnancy in the absence of clinical symptoms.

We know full well that plasma levels of medications decline during pregnancy because of hemodilution with lithium and antidepressants and, in the case of lamotrigine, the effects of rising estrogen concentration during pregnancy on the metabolism of lamotrigine. While several studies have shown the decrease of SSRI concentration during pregnancy absent a change in dose of medication, these data have not correlated changes in plasma concentration of SSRI with a frank change in clinical status across pregnancy. Unlike what we see in conditions like epilepsy, where doses are increased to maintain therapeutic plasma levels to mitigate risk for seizure, those therapeutic plasma levels do not clearly exist for the psychiatric medications most widely used to treat psychiatric disorders.

We also almost never use sodium valproate in reproductive-age women despite its efficacy in both the acute and maintenance treatment of bipolar disorder given the risk of both major malformations associated with first-trimester fetal exposure to valproate and the data suggesting longer-term adverse neurobehavioral effects associated with its use during pregnancy.

2. We never suggest patients defer pregnancy based on their underlying psychiatric disorder.

Our role is to provide the best information regarding reproductive safety of psychiatric medications and risks of untreated psychiatric disorder to patients as they and relevant parties weigh the risks of pursuing one treatment or another. Those are private choices, and women and their partners make private decisions applying their own calculus with respect to moving forward with plans to conceive.

3. We never switch antidepressants once a woman has become pregnant.

Although we continue to see patients switched to older SSRIs such as sertraline with documentation of pregnancy, a patient’s road to getting well is sometimes very lengthy. In the absence of indicting reproductive safety data for any particular antidepressant, for patients who have gotten well on an antidepressant, even one for which we have less information, we stay the course and do not switch arbitrarily to an older SSRI for which we may have more reproductive safety data.

If we have the luxury prior to pregnancy to switch a patient to an untried and better studied antidepressant with more data supporting safety, we do so. But this is rarely the case. More often, we see women presenting with a newly documented pregnancy (frequently unplanned, with half of pregnancies across the country still being unplanned across sociodemographic lines) on an antidepressant with varying amounts of reproductive safety information available for the medicine being taken, and frequently after failed previous trials of other antidepressants. In this scenario, we rarely see the time of a newly documented pregnancy as an opportunity to pursue a new trial of an antidepressant without known efficacy for that patient; we stay the course and hope for sustained euthymia on the drug which has afforded euthymia to date.
 

Final thoughts

Dos and don’ts are relative in reproductive psychiatry. We tend to apply available data and clinical experience as we guide patients on a case-by-case basis, considering the most currently available rigorous reproductive safety data, as well as the individual patient’s clinical status and her personal wishes.

Dr. Cohen is the director of the Ammon-Pinizzotto Center for Women’s Mental Health at Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH) in Boston, which provides information resources and conducts clinical care and research in reproductive mental health. He has been a consultant to manufacturers of psychiatric medications. Email Dr. Cohen at obnews@mdedge.com.

Discussion of a common cause of dyspepsia was missing from your September article, “Dyspepsia: A stepwise approach to evaluation and management” (J Fam Pract. 2021;70:320-325). After more than 25 years of practice, I have found that most people with dyspepsia have hypochlorhydria¹—a condition that results in the inability to produce adequate amounts of hydrochloric acid, or stomach acid. With lower amounts of stomach acid, food does not break down but ferments instead, producing gas and discomfort.

I use a simple test to diagnose patients with hypochlorhydria. The patient takes a capsule of hydrochloric acid directly after eating a meal; failure to experience epigastric burning within 30 minutes of ingesting the capsule indicates a need for additional stomach acid with a meal. If they do experience a burning sensation within 30 minutes, it indicates they do not need additional stomach acid. The burning sensation is relieved by drinking 2 teaspoons of baking soda in 4 oz of water to neutralize the excess acid.

In my experience, most people who take the test do not experience a sense of burning. I find that once these patients with hypochlorhydria start taking betaine hydrochloride with their meals, they no longer need the many over-the-counter or prescription antacids and their dyspepsia disappears. Many of my patients find that after a few months, they begin to experience burning and can discontinue the supplement, without facing a return of their dyspepsia.

Marianne Rothschild, MD
Mount Airy, MD

1. Iwai W, Abe Y, Iijima K, et al. Gastric hypochlorhydria is associated with an exacerbation of dyspeptic symptoms in female patients. J Gastoenterol. 2012;48:214-221. doi: 10.1007/s00535-012-0634-8

Editor’s note

After reading Dr. Rothschild’s letter, I decided to do a little digging to find out if there is any research evidence to support her approach to dyspepsia. I carefully searched PubMed and found only 2 observational studies showing an association between dyspepsia and hypochlorhydria. There are no randomized trials of dyspepsia treatment with hydrochloric acid to support her clinical observations. Placebo effect? Until there is a good, randomized trial, we will not know. But who would have guessed that H pylori causes peptic ulcers?

John Hickner, MD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief, The Journal of Family Practice

Discussion of a common cause of dyspepsia was missing from your September article, “Dyspepsia: A stepwise approach to evaluation and management” (J Fam Pract. 2021;70:320-325). After more than 25 years of practice, I have found that most people with dyspepsia have hypochlorhydria¹—a condition that results in the inability to produce adequate amounts of hydrochloric acid, or stomach acid. With lower amounts of stomach acid, food does not break down but ferments instead, producing gas and discomfort.

I use a simple test to diagnose patients with hypochlorhydria. The patient takes a capsule of hydrochloric acid directly after eating a meal; failure to experience epigastric burning within 30 minutes of ingesting the capsule indicates a need for additional stomach acid with a meal. If they do experience a burning sensation within 30 minutes, it indicates they do not need additional stomach acid. The burning sensation is relieved by drinking 2 teaspoons of baking soda in 4 oz of water to neutralize the excess acid.

In my experience, most people who take the test do not experience a sense of burning. I find that once these patients with hypochlorhydria start taking betaine hydrochloride with their meals, they no longer need the many over-the-counter or prescription antacids and their dyspepsia disappears. Many of my patients find that after a few months, they begin to experience burning and can discontinue the supplement, without facing a return of their dyspepsia.

Marianne Rothschild, MD
Mount Airy, MD

1. Iwai W, Abe Y, Iijima K, et al. Gastric hypochlorhydria is associated with an exacerbation of dyspeptic symptoms in female patients. J Gastoenterol. 2012;48:214-221. doi: 10.1007/s00535-012-0634-8

Editor’s note

After reading Dr. Rothschild’s letter, I decided to do a little digging to find out if there is any research evidence to support her approach to dyspepsia. I carefully searched PubMed and found only 2 observational studies showing an association between dyspepsia and hypochlorhydria. There are no randomized trials of dyspepsia treatment with hydrochloric acid to support her clinical observations. Placebo effect? Until there is a good, randomized trial, we will not know. But who would have guessed that H pylori causes peptic ulcers?

John Hickner, MD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief, The Journal of Family Practice

Discussion of a common cause of dyspepsia was missing from your September article, “Dyspepsia: A stepwise approach to evaluation and management” (J Fam Pract. 2021;70:320-325). After more than 25 years of practice, I have found that most people with dyspepsia have hypochlorhydria¹—a condition that results in the inability to produce adequate amounts of hydrochloric acid, or stomach acid. With lower amounts of stomach acid, food does not break down but ferments instead, producing gas and discomfort.

I use a simple test to diagnose patients with hypochlorhydria. The patient takes a capsule of hydrochloric acid directly after eating a meal; failure to experience epigastric burning within 30 minutes of ingesting the capsule indicates a need for additional stomach acid with a meal. If they do experience a burning sensation within 30 minutes, it indicates they do not need additional stomach acid. The burning sensation is relieved by drinking 2 teaspoons of baking soda in 4 oz of water to neutralize the excess acid.

In my experience, most people who take the test do not experience a sense of burning. I find that once these patients with hypochlorhydria start taking betaine hydrochloride with their meals, they no longer need the many over-the-counter or prescription antacids and their dyspepsia disappears. Many of my patients find that after a few months, they begin to experience burning and can discontinue the supplement, without facing a return of their dyspepsia.

Marianne Rothschild, MD
Mount Airy, MD

1. Iwai W, Abe Y, Iijima K, et al. Gastric hypochlorhydria is associated with an exacerbation of dyspeptic symptoms in female patients. J Gastoenterol. 2012;48:214-221. doi: 10.1007/s00535-012-0634-8

Editor’s note

After reading Dr. Rothschild’s letter, I decided to do a little digging to find out if there is any research evidence to support her approach to dyspepsia. I carefully searched PubMed and found only 2 observational studies showing an association between dyspepsia and hypochlorhydria. There are no randomized trials of dyspepsia treatment with hydrochloric acid to support her clinical observations. Placebo effect? Until there is a good, randomized trial, we will not know. But who would have guessed that H pylori causes peptic ulcers?

John Hickner, MD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief, The Journal of Family Practice

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.