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Nodding Off While Feeding an Infant
In a recent survey of 1259 mothers published in the journal Pediatrics, 28% reported they had fallen asleep while feeding their babies, and 83% of those mothers reported that the sleep was unplanned. Although the study sample was small, the investigators found that sociodemographic factors did not increase the odds that a mother would fall asleep while feeding.
These numbers are not surprising, but nonetheless they are concerning because co-sleeping is a known risk factor for sudden unexplained infant death (SUID). Every parent will tell you during the first 6 months of their adventure in parenting they didn’t get enough sleep. In fact some will tell you that sleep deprivation was their chronic state for the child’s first year.
Falling asleep easily at times and places not intended for sleep is the primary symptom of sleep deprivation. SUID is the most tragic event associated with parental sleep deprivation, but it is certainly not the only one. Overtired parents are more likely to be involved in accidents and are more likely to make poor decisions, particularly those regarding how to respond to a crying or misbehaving child.
The investigators found that 24% of mothers who reported that their usual nighttime feeding location was a chair or sofa (14%). Not surprisingly, mothers who fed in chairs were less likely to fall asleep while feeding. Many of these mothers reported that they chose the chair because they thought they would be less likely to fall asleep and/or disturb other family members. One wonders how we should interpret these numbers in light of other research that has found it is “relatively less hazardous to fall asleep with an infant in the adult bed than on a chair or sofa.” Had these chair feeding mothers made the better choice under the circumstances? It would take a much larger and more granular study to answer that question.
Mothers who exclusively breastfed were more likely to fall asleep feeding than were those who partially breastfed or used formula. The investigators postulated that the infants of mothers who exclusively breastfed may have required more feedings because breast milk is more easily and quickly digested. I know this is a common explanation, but in my experience I have found that exclusively breastfed infants often use nursing as pacification and a sleep trigger and spend more time at the breast regardless of how quickly they emptied their stomachs.
This study also examined the effect of repeated educational interventions and support and found that mothers who received an intervention based on safe sleep practices were less likely to fall asleep while feeding than were the mothers who had received the intervention focused on exclusive breastfeeding value and barriers to its adoption.
Education is one avenue, particularly when it includes the mother’s partner who can play an important role as standby lifeguard to make sure the mother doesn’t fall asleep. Obviously, this is easier said than done because when there is a new baby in the house sleep deprivation is usually a shared experience.
Although I believe that my family is on the verge of gifting me a smartwatch to protect me from my own misadventures, I don’t have any personal experience with these wonders of modern technology. However, I suspect with very little tweaking a wearable sensor could be easily programmed to detect when a mother is beginning to fall asleep while she is feeding her infant. A smartwatch would be an expensive intervention and is unlikely to filter down to economically challenged families. On the other hand, this paper has reinforced our suspicions that sleep-deprived infant feeding is a significant problem. A subsidized loaner program for those families that can’t afford a smartwatch is an option that should be considered.
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.
In a recent survey of 1259 mothers published in the journal Pediatrics, 28% reported they had fallen asleep while feeding their babies, and 83% of those mothers reported that the sleep was unplanned. Although the study sample was small, the investigators found that sociodemographic factors did not increase the odds that a mother would fall asleep while feeding.
These numbers are not surprising, but nonetheless they are concerning because co-sleeping is a known risk factor for sudden unexplained infant death (SUID). Every parent will tell you during the first 6 months of their adventure in parenting they didn’t get enough sleep. In fact some will tell you that sleep deprivation was their chronic state for the child’s first year.
Falling asleep easily at times and places not intended for sleep is the primary symptom of sleep deprivation. SUID is the most tragic event associated with parental sleep deprivation, but it is certainly not the only one. Overtired parents are more likely to be involved in accidents and are more likely to make poor decisions, particularly those regarding how to respond to a crying or misbehaving child.
The investigators found that 24% of mothers who reported that their usual nighttime feeding location was a chair or sofa (14%). Not surprisingly, mothers who fed in chairs were less likely to fall asleep while feeding. Many of these mothers reported that they chose the chair because they thought they would be less likely to fall asleep and/or disturb other family members. One wonders how we should interpret these numbers in light of other research that has found it is “relatively less hazardous to fall asleep with an infant in the adult bed than on a chair or sofa.” Had these chair feeding mothers made the better choice under the circumstances? It would take a much larger and more granular study to answer that question.
Mothers who exclusively breastfed were more likely to fall asleep feeding than were those who partially breastfed or used formula. The investigators postulated that the infants of mothers who exclusively breastfed may have required more feedings because breast milk is more easily and quickly digested. I know this is a common explanation, but in my experience I have found that exclusively breastfed infants often use nursing as pacification and a sleep trigger and spend more time at the breast regardless of how quickly they emptied their stomachs.
This study also examined the effect of repeated educational interventions and support and found that mothers who received an intervention based on safe sleep practices were less likely to fall asleep while feeding than were the mothers who had received the intervention focused on exclusive breastfeeding value and barriers to its adoption.
Education is one avenue, particularly when it includes the mother’s partner who can play an important role as standby lifeguard to make sure the mother doesn’t fall asleep. Obviously, this is easier said than done because when there is a new baby in the house sleep deprivation is usually a shared experience.
Although I believe that my family is on the verge of gifting me a smartwatch to protect me from my own misadventures, I don’t have any personal experience with these wonders of modern technology. However, I suspect with very little tweaking a wearable sensor could be easily programmed to detect when a mother is beginning to fall asleep while she is feeding her infant. A smartwatch would be an expensive intervention and is unlikely to filter down to economically challenged families. On the other hand, this paper has reinforced our suspicions that sleep-deprived infant feeding is a significant problem. A subsidized loaner program for those families that can’t afford a smartwatch is an option that should be considered.
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.
In a recent survey of 1259 mothers published in the journal Pediatrics, 28% reported they had fallen asleep while feeding their babies, and 83% of those mothers reported that the sleep was unplanned. Although the study sample was small, the investigators found that sociodemographic factors did not increase the odds that a mother would fall asleep while feeding.
These numbers are not surprising, but nonetheless they are concerning because co-sleeping is a known risk factor for sudden unexplained infant death (SUID). Every parent will tell you during the first 6 months of their adventure in parenting they didn’t get enough sleep. In fact some will tell you that sleep deprivation was their chronic state for the child’s first year.
Falling asleep easily at times and places not intended for sleep is the primary symptom of sleep deprivation. SUID is the most tragic event associated with parental sleep deprivation, but it is certainly not the only one. Overtired parents are more likely to be involved in accidents and are more likely to make poor decisions, particularly those regarding how to respond to a crying or misbehaving child.
The investigators found that 24% of mothers who reported that their usual nighttime feeding location was a chair or sofa (14%). Not surprisingly, mothers who fed in chairs were less likely to fall asleep while feeding. Many of these mothers reported that they chose the chair because they thought they would be less likely to fall asleep and/or disturb other family members. One wonders how we should interpret these numbers in light of other research that has found it is “relatively less hazardous to fall asleep with an infant in the adult bed than on a chair or sofa.” Had these chair feeding mothers made the better choice under the circumstances? It would take a much larger and more granular study to answer that question.
Mothers who exclusively breastfed were more likely to fall asleep feeding than were those who partially breastfed or used formula. The investigators postulated that the infants of mothers who exclusively breastfed may have required more feedings because breast milk is more easily and quickly digested. I know this is a common explanation, but in my experience I have found that exclusively breastfed infants often use nursing as pacification and a sleep trigger and spend more time at the breast regardless of how quickly they emptied their stomachs.
This study also examined the effect of repeated educational interventions and support and found that mothers who received an intervention based on safe sleep practices were less likely to fall asleep while feeding than were the mothers who had received the intervention focused on exclusive breastfeeding value and barriers to its adoption.
Education is one avenue, particularly when it includes the mother’s partner who can play an important role as standby lifeguard to make sure the mother doesn’t fall asleep. Obviously, this is easier said than done because when there is a new baby in the house sleep deprivation is usually a shared experience.
Although I believe that my family is on the verge of gifting me a smartwatch to protect me from my own misadventures, I don’t have any personal experience with these wonders of modern technology. However, I suspect with very little tweaking a wearable sensor could be easily programmed to detect when a mother is beginning to fall asleep while she is feeding her infant. A smartwatch would be an expensive intervention and is unlikely to filter down to economically challenged families. On the other hand, this paper has reinforced our suspicions that sleep-deprived infant feeding is a significant problem. A subsidized loaner program for those families that can’t afford a smartwatch is an option that should be considered.
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.
Exposomania
If we’ve learned anything about obesity prevention it’s that if we wait too long the die is cast and our success rate is nil. The GLP-1 antagonists seem to be a workable solution for treating the adult and adolescent population, but I have been afraid that their success will divert too much of our attention away from prevention.
Fortunately, there still seems to be a few researchers committed to the age group in which obesity could be headed off before our only option is treatment. In one recent study, “Neighborhood Food Access in Early Life and Trajectories of Child Body Mass Index and Obesity,” researchers collected data from more than 28,000 children in 55 cohorts during the period from 1994 to 2023). The investigators found that residence in a low–food access, low-income neighborhoods during pregnancy and early childhood was associated with higher BMI “Z” scores, a higher risk of obesity, and severe obesity in childhood. The researchers defined low food access as living greater than 0.5 miles away from a grocery store in an urban setting or greater than 10 minutes away in a rural setting. I don’t think those associations should surprise us, but having some data from a large population may be valuable should we ever find the political will to undertake any steps toward prevention.
I found a Viewpoint article published 2 weeks earlier in the same journal, titled, “The Exposome as a Key to Understanding Pediatric Health Disparities.” I know what the “biome” is and have heard gastroenterologists expound on the power that billions of our little single-celled friends residing in our gut have on seemingly unrelated and spatially distant events in our body. But, “exposome” was a new word for me, although it turns out the concept is simple and one I had harbored since late childhood.
The opening sentence of the article reads “One’s environment profoundly changes health outcomes throughout one’s lifespan.” That truism was obvious to my 7-year-old self as I observed my playmates who lived in a poorly kept house in the less desirable area two blocks away and didn’t eat breakfast and were sick more often than the rest of us more-fortunates.
The authors define the exposome as the “totality of an individual’s non-genetic exposures, including psychosocial experiences, structural social determinants, chemical pollution, and neighborhood infrastructure.” This seems to be a pretty complete description of the nurture side of the nature versus nurture conversation.
I suspect that, like me, most of you through observation and intuition have included your own interpretation of the exposome in your professional activities. However, the authors feel we could be more robust in our efforts and claim that They go on to call for incorporation of an “exposome lens in pediatric research and healthcare delivery.”
I’m not sure this is a valid criticism. There is certainly more that could be done when it comes to research that examines the effect of environmental stressors. And, I suspect the authors would view this recent paper on the association between neighborhood food access as a step in the right direction. However, when it comes to healthcare delivery, at least at the level where the stethoscope meets the chest, I think, or at least hope, the authors are underestimating the observational skills and sensitivity of primary care providers.
We were all taught to take an appropriate medical history when evaluating a patient. And, through our formal education, our personal observations and through exposure to papers like this one on food access we must be aware of the effect of environmental stressors on our patients’ health. Is there more we could learn about those kind of associations? Certainly. This is where a more broadly focused exposome lens could be most effective.
The authors of the article observed: “The effect of the exposome is not uniform for all individuals but rather intersects across identities precipitating unique outcomes.” The practical reality is that to generate statistically significant data research must look at identities. This doesn’t mean that large population studies are without value. However, it does obligate investigators to include that caveat about the uniqueness of the individual in their conclusions. And, it is our duty as providers to keep this reality in mind as we interpret studies we read in the context of each individual patient.
When it comes to healthcare delivery at the structural level, I am concerned that we are moving in a direction that is making it more difficult for the provider to become familiar with the patient’s exposome. I am talking about an over-reliance on the team care delivery model that too often results in the “We never/seldom see the same provider” patient complaint.
I don’t care how slick and user-friendly a practice’s EHR system is; the best way to learn about a patient’s exposome is by repeated exposure (pun unintended) to the same provider. This isn’t always possible, and a well-crafted and conscientiously managed EHR can fill in some of the gaps. But, it is a distant second best.
Awareness of the importance of the exposome is only the starting point. Finding the political will to make the changes necessary to improve our patients’ outcomes is the bigger challenge. Grocery stores well-stocked with healthy foods don’t just pop up where we want them because we think they may hold answer to preventing pediatric obesity.
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.
If we’ve learned anything about obesity prevention it’s that if we wait too long the die is cast and our success rate is nil. The GLP-1 antagonists seem to be a workable solution for treating the adult and adolescent population, but I have been afraid that their success will divert too much of our attention away from prevention.
Fortunately, there still seems to be a few researchers committed to the age group in which obesity could be headed off before our only option is treatment. In one recent study, “Neighborhood Food Access in Early Life and Trajectories of Child Body Mass Index and Obesity,” researchers collected data from more than 28,000 children in 55 cohorts during the period from 1994 to 2023). The investigators found that residence in a low–food access, low-income neighborhoods during pregnancy and early childhood was associated with higher BMI “Z” scores, a higher risk of obesity, and severe obesity in childhood. The researchers defined low food access as living greater than 0.5 miles away from a grocery store in an urban setting or greater than 10 minutes away in a rural setting. I don’t think those associations should surprise us, but having some data from a large population may be valuable should we ever find the political will to undertake any steps toward prevention.
I found a Viewpoint article published 2 weeks earlier in the same journal, titled, “The Exposome as a Key to Understanding Pediatric Health Disparities.” I know what the “biome” is and have heard gastroenterologists expound on the power that billions of our little single-celled friends residing in our gut have on seemingly unrelated and spatially distant events in our body. But, “exposome” was a new word for me, although it turns out the concept is simple and one I had harbored since late childhood.
The opening sentence of the article reads “One’s environment profoundly changes health outcomes throughout one’s lifespan.” That truism was obvious to my 7-year-old self as I observed my playmates who lived in a poorly kept house in the less desirable area two blocks away and didn’t eat breakfast and were sick more often than the rest of us more-fortunates.
The authors define the exposome as the “totality of an individual’s non-genetic exposures, including psychosocial experiences, structural social determinants, chemical pollution, and neighborhood infrastructure.” This seems to be a pretty complete description of the nurture side of the nature versus nurture conversation.
I suspect that, like me, most of you through observation and intuition have included your own interpretation of the exposome in your professional activities. However, the authors feel we could be more robust in our efforts and claim that They go on to call for incorporation of an “exposome lens in pediatric research and healthcare delivery.”
I’m not sure this is a valid criticism. There is certainly more that could be done when it comes to research that examines the effect of environmental stressors. And, I suspect the authors would view this recent paper on the association between neighborhood food access as a step in the right direction. However, when it comes to healthcare delivery, at least at the level where the stethoscope meets the chest, I think, or at least hope, the authors are underestimating the observational skills and sensitivity of primary care providers.
We were all taught to take an appropriate medical history when evaluating a patient. And, through our formal education, our personal observations and through exposure to papers like this one on food access we must be aware of the effect of environmental stressors on our patients’ health. Is there more we could learn about those kind of associations? Certainly. This is where a more broadly focused exposome lens could be most effective.
The authors of the article observed: “The effect of the exposome is not uniform for all individuals but rather intersects across identities precipitating unique outcomes.” The practical reality is that to generate statistically significant data research must look at identities. This doesn’t mean that large population studies are without value. However, it does obligate investigators to include that caveat about the uniqueness of the individual in their conclusions. And, it is our duty as providers to keep this reality in mind as we interpret studies we read in the context of each individual patient.
When it comes to healthcare delivery at the structural level, I am concerned that we are moving in a direction that is making it more difficult for the provider to become familiar with the patient’s exposome. I am talking about an over-reliance on the team care delivery model that too often results in the “We never/seldom see the same provider” patient complaint.
I don’t care how slick and user-friendly a practice’s EHR system is; the best way to learn about a patient’s exposome is by repeated exposure (pun unintended) to the same provider. This isn’t always possible, and a well-crafted and conscientiously managed EHR can fill in some of the gaps. But, it is a distant second best.
Awareness of the importance of the exposome is only the starting point. Finding the political will to make the changes necessary to improve our patients’ outcomes is the bigger challenge. Grocery stores well-stocked with healthy foods don’t just pop up where we want them because we think they may hold answer to preventing pediatric obesity.
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.
If we’ve learned anything about obesity prevention it’s that if we wait too long the die is cast and our success rate is nil. The GLP-1 antagonists seem to be a workable solution for treating the adult and adolescent population, but I have been afraid that their success will divert too much of our attention away from prevention.
Fortunately, there still seems to be a few researchers committed to the age group in which obesity could be headed off before our only option is treatment. In one recent study, “Neighborhood Food Access in Early Life and Trajectories of Child Body Mass Index and Obesity,” researchers collected data from more than 28,000 children in 55 cohorts during the period from 1994 to 2023). The investigators found that residence in a low–food access, low-income neighborhoods during pregnancy and early childhood was associated with higher BMI “Z” scores, a higher risk of obesity, and severe obesity in childhood. The researchers defined low food access as living greater than 0.5 miles away from a grocery store in an urban setting or greater than 10 minutes away in a rural setting. I don’t think those associations should surprise us, but having some data from a large population may be valuable should we ever find the political will to undertake any steps toward prevention.
I found a Viewpoint article published 2 weeks earlier in the same journal, titled, “The Exposome as a Key to Understanding Pediatric Health Disparities.” I know what the “biome” is and have heard gastroenterologists expound on the power that billions of our little single-celled friends residing in our gut have on seemingly unrelated and spatially distant events in our body. But, “exposome” was a new word for me, although it turns out the concept is simple and one I had harbored since late childhood.
The opening sentence of the article reads “One’s environment profoundly changes health outcomes throughout one’s lifespan.” That truism was obvious to my 7-year-old self as I observed my playmates who lived in a poorly kept house in the less desirable area two blocks away and didn’t eat breakfast and were sick more often than the rest of us more-fortunates.
The authors define the exposome as the “totality of an individual’s non-genetic exposures, including psychosocial experiences, structural social determinants, chemical pollution, and neighborhood infrastructure.” This seems to be a pretty complete description of the nurture side of the nature versus nurture conversation.
I suspect that, like me, most of you through observation and intuition have included your own interpretation of the exposome in your professional activities. However, the authors feel we could be more robust in our efforts and claim that They go on to call for incorporation of an “exposome lens in pediatric research and healthcare delivery.”
I’m not sure this is a valid criticism. There is certainly more that could be done when it comes to research that examines the effect of environmental stressors. And, I suspect the authors would view this recent paper on the association between neighborhood food access as a step in the right direction. However, when it comes to healthcare delivery, at least at the level where the stethoscope meets the chest, I think, or at least hope, the authors are underestimating the observational skills and sensitivity of primary care providers.
We were all taught to take an appropriate medical history when evaluating a patient. And, through our formal education, our personal observations and through exposure to papers like this one on food access we must be aware of the effect of environmental stressors on our patients’ health. Is there more we could learn about those kind of associations? Certainly. This is where a more broadly focused exposome lens could be most effective.
The authors of the article observed: “The effect of the exposome is not uniform for all individuals but rather intersects across identities precipitating unique outcomes.” The practical reality is that to generate statistically significant data research must look at identities. This doesn’t mean that large population studies are without value. However, it does obligate investigators to include that caveat about the uniqueness of the individual in their conclusions. And, it is our duty as providers to keep this reality in mind as we interpret studies we read in the context of each individual patient.
When it comes to healthcare delivery at the structural level, I am concerned that we are moving in a direction that is making it more difficult for the provider to become familiar with the patient’s exposome. I am talking about an over-reliance on the team care delivery model that too often results in the “We never/seldom see the same provider” patient complaint.
I don’t care how slick and user-friendly a practice’s EHR system is; the best way to learn about a patient’s exposome is by repeated exposure (pun unintended) to the same provider. This isn’t always possible, and a well-crafted and conscientiously managed EHR can fill in some of the gaps. But, it is a distant second best.
Awareness of the importance of the exposome is only the starting point. Finding the political will to make the changes necessary to improve our patients’ outcomes is the bigger challenge. Grocery stores well-stocked with healthy foods don’t just pop up where we want them because we think they may hold answer to preventing pediatric obesity.
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.
Gentle Parenting
In one my recent Letters, I concluded with the concern that infant-led weaning, which makes some sense, can be confused with child-led family meals, which make none. I referred to an increasingly popular style of parenting overemphasizing child autonomy that seems to be a major contributor to the mealtime chaos that occurs when pleasing every palate at the table becomes the goal.
In the intervening weeks, I have learned that this parenting style is called “gentle parenting.” Despite its growing popularity, possibly fueled by the pandemic, it has not been well-defined nor its effectiveness investigated. In a recent paper published in PLOS ONE, two professors of developmental psychology have attempted correct this deficit in our understanding of this parenting style, which doesn’t appear to make sense to many of us with experience in child behavior and development.
Gentle Parents
By surveying a group of 100 parents of young children, the investigators were able to sort out a group of parents (n = 49) who self-identified as employing gentle parenting. Their responses emphasized a high level of parental affection and emotional regulation by both their children and themselves.
Investigators found that 40% of the self-defined gentle parents “had negative difference scores indicating misbehavior response descriptions that included more child directed responses. I interpret this to mean that almost half of the time the parents failed to evenly include themselves in a solution to a conflict, which indicates incomplete or unsuccessful emotional regulation on their part. The investigators also observed that, like many other parenting styles, gentle parenting includes an emphasis on boundaries “yet, enactment of those boundaries is not uniform.”
More telling was the authors’ observation that “statements of parenting uncertainty and burnout were present in over one third of the gentle of the gentle parenting sample.” While some parents were pleased with their experience, the downside seems unacceptable to me. When asked to explain this finding, Annie Pezalla, PhD, one of the coauthors, has said “gentle parenting practices work best when a parent is emotionally regulated and unconstrained for time — commodities that parents struggle with the most.”
Abundance Advice on Parenting Styles
I find this to be a very sad story. Parenting can be difficult. Creating and then gently and effectively policing those boundaries is often the hardest part. It is not surprising to me that of the four books I have written for parents, the one titled How to Say No to Your Toddler is the only one popular enough to be published in four languages.
Of course I am troubled, as I suspect you may be, with the label “gentle parenting.” It implies that the rest of us are doing something terrible, “harsh” maybe, “cruel” maybe. We can dispense with the “affectionate” descriptor immediately because gentle parenting can’t claim sole ownership to it. Every, behavior management scheme I am aware of touts being caring and loving at its core.
I completely agree that emotional regulation for both parent and child are worthy goals, but I’m not hearing much on how that is to be achieved other than by trying to avoid the inevitable conflict by failing to even say “No” when poorly crafted boundaries are breached.
There are scores of parenting styles out there. And there should be, because we are all different. Parents have strengths and weaknesses and they have begotten children with different personalities and vulnerabilities. And, families come from different cultures and socioeconomic backgrounds.
Across all of these differences there are two primary roles for every parent. The first is to lead by example. If a parent wants his/her child to be kind and caring and polite, then the parent has no choice but to behave that way. If the parent can’t always be present, the environment where the child spends most of his/her day should model the desired behavior. I’m not talking about teaching because you can’t preach good behavior. It must be modeled.
The second role for the parent is to keep his/her child safe from dangers that exist in every environment. This can mean accepting vaccines and seeking available medical care. But, it also means creating some limits — the current buzzword is “guardrails” — to keep the child from veering into the ditch.
Setting Limits
Limits will, of necessity, vary with the environment. The risks of a child growing on a farm differ from those of child living in the city. And they must be tailored to the personality and developmental stage of the child. A parent may need advice from someone experienced in child behavior to create individualized limits. You may be able to allow your 3-year-old to roam freely in an environment in which I would have to monitor my risk-taking 3-year-old every second. A parent must learn and accept his/her child’s personality and the environment they can provide.
Limits should be inanimate objects whenever possible. Fences, gates, doors with latches, and locked cabinets to keep temptations out of view, etc. Creative environmental manipulations should be employed to keep the annoying verbal warnings, unenforceable threats, and direct child-to-parent confrontations to a minimum.
Consequences
Challenges to even the most carefully crafted limits are inevitable, and this is where we get to the third-rail topic of consequences. Yes, when prevention has failed for whatever reason, I believe that an intelligently and affectionately applied time-out is the most efficient and most effective consequence. This is not the place for me to explore or defend the details, but before you write me off as an octogenarian hard-ass (or hard-liner if you prefer) I urge you to read a few chapters in How to Say No to Your Toddler.
Far more important than which consequence a parent chooses are the steps the family has taken to keep both parent and child in a state of balanced emotional regulation. Is everyone well rested and getting enough sleep? Sleep deprivation is one of the most potent triggers of a tantrum; it also leaves parents vulnerable to saying things and making threats they will regret later. Does the child’s schedule leave him or her enough time to decompress? Does the parent’s schedule sync with a developmentally appropriate schedule for the child? Is he/she getting the right kind of attention when it makes the most sense to him/her?
Intelligent Parenting
If a family has created an environment in which limits are appropriate for the child’s personality and developmental stage, used physical barriers whenever possible, and kept everyone as well rested as possible, both challenges to the limits and consequences can be kept to a minimum.
But achieving this state requires time as free of constraints as possible. For the few families that have the luxury of meeting these conditions, gentle parenting might be the answer. For the rest of us, intelligent parenting that acknowledges the realities and limits of our own abilities and our children’s vulnerabilities is the better answer.
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.
In one my recent Letters, I concluded with the concern that infant-led weaning, which makes some sense, can be confused with child-led family meals, which make none. I referred to an increasingly popular style of parenting overemphasizing child autonomy that seems to be a major contributor to the mealtime chaos that occurs when pleasing every palate at the table becomes the goal.
In the intervening weeks, I have learned that this parenting style is called “gentle parenting.” Despite its growing popularity, possibly fueled by the pandemic, it has not been well-defined nor its effectiveness investigated. In a recent paper published in PLOS ONE, two professors of developmental psychology have attempted correct this deficit in our understanding of this parenting style, which doesn’t appear to make sense to many of us with experience in child behavior and development.
Gentle Parents
By surveying a group of 100 parents of young children, the investigators were able to sort out a group of parents (n = 49) who self-identified as employing gentle parenting. Their responses emphasized a high level of parental affection and emotional regulation by both their children and themselves.
Investigators found that 40% of the self-defined gentle parents “had negative difference scores indicating misbehavior response descriptions that included more child directed responses. I interpret this to mean that almost half of the time the parents failed to evenly include themselves in a solution to a conflict, which indicates incomplete or unsuccessful emotional regulation on their part. The investigators also observed that, like many other parenting styles, gentle parenting includes an emphasis on boundaries “yet, enactment of those boundaries is not uniform.”
More telling was the authors’ observation that “statements of parenting uncertainty and burnout were present in over one third of the gentle of the gentle parenting sample.” While some parents were pleased with their experience, the downside seems unacceptable to me. When asked to explain this finding, Annie Pezalla, PhD, one of the coauthors, has said “gentle parenting practices work best when a parent is emotionally regulated and unconstrained for time — commodities that parents struggle with the most.”
Abundance Advice on Parenting Styles
I find this to be a very sad story. Parenting can be difficult. Creating and then gently and effectively policing those boundaries is often the hardest part. It is not surprising to me that of the four books I have written for parents, the one titled How to Say No to Your Toddler is the only one popular enough to be published in four languages.
Of course I am troubled, as I suspect you may be, with the label “gentle parenting.” It implies that the rest of us are doing something terrible, “harsh” maybe, “cruel” maybe. We can dispense with the “affectionate” descriptor immediately because gentle parenting can’t claim sole ownership to it. Every, behavior management scheme I am aware of touts being caring and loving at its core.
I completely agree that emotional regulation for both parent and child are worthy goals, but I’m not hearing much on how that is to be achieved other than by trying to avoid the inevitable conflict by failing to even say “No” when poorly crafted boundaries are breached.
There are scores of parenting styles out there. And there should be, because we are all different. Parents have strengths and weaknesses and they have begotten children with different personalities and vulnerabilities. And, families come from different cultures and socioeconomic backgrounds.
Across all of these differences there are two primary roles for every parent. The first is to lead by example. If a parent wants his/her child to be kind and caring and polite, then the parent has no choice but to behave that way. If the parent can’t always be present, the environment where the child spends most of his/her day should model the desired behavior. I’m not talking about teaching because you can’t preach good behavior. It must be modeled.
The second role for the parent is to keep his/her child safe from dangers that exist in every environment. This can mean accepting vaccines and seeking available medical care. But, it also means creating some limits — the current buzzword is “guardrails” — to keep the child from veering into the ditch.
Setting Limits
Limits will, of necessity, vary with the environment. The risks of a child growing on a farm differ from those of child living in the city. And they must be tailored to the personality and developmental stage of the child. A parent may need advice from someone experienced in child behavior to create individualized limits. You may be able to allow your 3-year-old to roam freely in an environment in which I would have to monitor my risk-taking 3-year-old every second. A parent must learn and accept his/her child’s personality and the environment they can provide.
Limits should be inanimate objects whenever possible. Fences, gates, doors with latches, and locked cabinets to keep temptations out of view, etc. Creative environmental manipulations should be employed to keep the annoying verbal warnings, unenforceable threats, and direct child-to-parent confrontations to a minimum.
Consequences
Challenges to even the most carefully crafted limits are inevitable, and this is where we get to the third-rail topic of consequences. Yes, when prevention has failed for whatever reason, I believe that an intelligently and affectionately applied time-out is the most efficient and most effective consequence. This is not the place for me to explore or defend the details, but before you write me off as an octogenarian hard-ass (or hard-liner if you prefer) I urge you to read a few chapters in How to Say No to Your Toddler.
Far more important than which consequence a parent chooses are the steps the family has taken to keep both parent and child in a state of balanced emotional regulation. Is everyone well rested and getting enough sleep? Sleep deprivation is one of the most potent triggers of a tantrum; it also leaves parents vulnerable to saying things and making threats they will regret later. Does the child’s schedule leave him or her enough time to decompress? Does the parent’s schedule sync with a developmentally appropriate schedule for the child? Is he/she getting the right kind of attention when it makes the most sense to him/her?
Intelligent Parenting
If a family has created an environment in which limits are appropriate for the child’s personality and developmental stage, used physical barriers whenever possible, and kept everyone as well rested as possible, both challenges to the limits and consequences can be kept to a minimum.
But achieving this state requires time as free of constraints as possible. For the few families that have the luxury of meeting these conditions, gentle parenting might be the answer. For the rest of us, intelligent parenting that acknowledges the realities and limits of our own abilities and our children’s vulnerabilities is the better answer.
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.
In one my recent Letters, I concluded with the concern that infant-led weaning, which makes some sense, can be confused with child-led family meals, which make none. I referred to an increasingly popular style of parenting overemphasizing child autonomy that seems to be a major contributor to the mealtime chaos that occurs when pleasing every palate at the table becomes the goal.
In the intervening weeks, I have learned that this parenting style is called “gentle parenting.” Despite its growing popularity, possibly fueled by the pandemic, it has not been well-defined nor its effectiveness investigated. In a recent paper published in PLOS ONE, two professors of developmental psychology have attempted correct this deficit in our understanding of this parenting style, which doesn’t appear to make sense to many of us with experience in child behavior and development.
Gentle Parents
By surveying a group of 100 parents of young children, the investigators were able to sort out a group of parents (n = 49) who self-identified as employing gentle parenting. Their responses emphasized a high level of parental affection and emotional regulation by both their children and themselves.
Investigators found that 40% of the self-defined gentle parents “had negative difference scores indicating misbehavior response descriptions that included more child directed responses. I interpret this to mean that almost half of the time the parents failed to evenly include themselves in a solution to a conflict, which indicates incomplete or unsuccessful emotional regulation on their part. The investigators also observed that, like many other parenting styles, gentle parenting includes an emphasis on boundaries “yet, enactment of those boundaries is not uniform.”
More telling was the authors’ observation that “statements of parenting uncertainty and burnout were present in over one third of the gentle of the gentle parenting sample.” While some parents were pleased with their experience, the downside seems unacceptable to me. When asked to explain this finding, Annie Pezalla, PhD, one of the coauthors, has said “gentle parenting practices work best when a parent is emotionally regulated and unconstrained for time — commodities that parents struggle with the most.”
Abundance Advice on Parenting Styles
I find this to be a very sad story. Parenting can be difficult. Creating and then gently and effectively policing those boundaries is often the hardest part. It is not surprising to me that of the four books I have written for parents, the one titled How to Say No to Your Toddler is the only one popular enough to be published in four languages.
Of course I am troubled, as I suspect you may be, with the label “gentle parenting.” It implies that the rest of us are doing something terrible, “harsh” maybe, “cruel” maybe. We can dispense with the “affectionate” descriptor immediately because gentle parenting can’t claim sole ownership to it. Every, behavior management scheme I am aware of touts being caring and loving at its core.
I completely agree that emotional regulation for both parent and child are worthy goals, but I’m not hearing much on how that is to be achieved other than by trying to avoid the inevitable conflict by failing to even say “No” when poorly crafted boundaries are breached.
There are scores of parenting styles out there. And there should be, because we are all different. Parents have strengths and weaknesses and they have begotten children with different personalities and vulnerabilities. And, families come from different cultures and socioeconomic backgrounds.
Across all of these differences there are two primary roles for every parent. The first is to lead by example. If a parent wants his/her child to be kind and caring and polite, then the parent has no choice but to behave that way. If the parent can’t always be present, the environment where the child spends most of his/her day should model the desired behavior. I’m not talking about teaching because you can’t preach good behavior. It must be modeled.
The second role for the parent is to keep his/her child safe from dangers that exist in every environment. This can mean accepting vaccines and seeking available medical care. But, it also means creating some limits — the current buzzword is “guardrails” — to keep the child from veering into the ditch.
Setting Limits
Limits will, of necessity, vary with the environment. The risks of a child growing on a farm differ from those of child living in the city. And they must be tailored to the personality and developmental stage of the child. A parent may need advice from someone experienced in child behavior to create individualized limits. You may be able to allow your 3-year-old to roam freely in an environment in which I would have to monitor my risk-taking 3-year-old every second. A parent must learn and accept his/her child’s personality and the environment they can provide.
Limits should be inanimate objects whenever possible. Fences, gates, doors with latches, and locked cabinets to keep temptations out of view, etc. Creative environmental manipulations should be employed to keep the annoying verbal warnings, unenforceable threats, and direct child-to-parent confrontations to a minimum.
Consequences
Challenges to even the most carefully crafted limits are inevitable, and this is where we get to the third-rail topic of consequences. Yes, when prevention has failed for whatever reason, I believe that an intelligently and affectionately applied time-out is the most efficient and most effective consequence. This is not the place for me to explore or defend the details, but before you write me off as an octogenarian hard-ass (or hard-liner if you prefer) I urge you to read a few chapters in How to Say No to Your Toddler.
Far more important than which consequence a parent chooses are the steps the family has taken to keep both parent and child in a state of balanced emotional regulation. Is everyone well rested and getting enough sleep? Sleep deprivation is one of the most potent triggers of a tantrum; it also leaves parents vulnerable to saying things and making threats they will regret later. Does the child’s schedule leave him or her enough time to decompress? Does the parent’s schedule sync with a developmentally appropriate schedule for the child? Is he/she getting the right kind of attention when it makes the most sense to him/her?
Intelligent Parenting
If a family has created an environment in which limits are appropriate for the child’s personality and developmental stage, used physical barriers whenever possible, and kept everyone as well rested as possible, both challenges to the limits and consequences can be kept to a minimum.
But achieving this state requires time as free of constraints as possible. For the few families that have the luxury of meeting these conditions, gentle parenting might be the answer. For the rest of us, intelligent parenting that acknowledges the realities and limits of our own abilities and our children’s vulnerabilities is the better answer.
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.
Screen Use and Toddler Bedtimes
For decades I have suspected that there is a strong association between sleep deprivation and pediatric attention disorders. More recently I have wondered whether screen time, particularly at bedtime might be a significant contributor to sleep quantity and quality in both children and adults. There is a growing body of research that combines my two observations and suggests that bedtime screen time through its effect on sleep may be linked to pediatric attention problems. However, most of this work is preliminary and needs to be confirmed.
Stumbling across a paper from England titled “Toddler Screen Use Before Bed and Its Effect on Sleep and Attention” renewed my hope that we finally have evidence to close that knowledge gap. My bubble burst quickly however when I jumped ahead and read the conclusion portion of the abstract and learned that authors observed “no clear difference in parent reported attention” in the group of children in which screen time before bedtime had been eliminated. The authors wonder if their small study sample may be to blame.
Disappointed, I persisted and read the paper in its entirety and found that despite their failure to link bedtime screen time with attention disorders, the investigators have made a significant contribution to our understanding of how we can better encourage good pediatric sleep hygiene.
The Study
One hundred and five families with a toddler who was being exposed to a video screen in the hour before bedtime were divided into three groups. One group received guidance and advice from a pediatric team about the potential benefit of eliminating bedtime screen time. They were also given a box of activities that contained “activity cards and age appropriate toys” to replace the screen use. The family also received periodic support and follow-up contacts. A second group received only the “bedtime box.” And the third received no intervention.
It is important to note that the investigators modeled their intervention on one developed in a previous study using older children that was “co-created with caregivers and early years practitioners”(my italics).
The intervention resulted in reductions in parent-reported screen time, sleep efficiency, night awakenings, and daytime sleep. The decrease in nap time was a surprise to the investigators.
These reductions were small. However, the investigators were most impressed (and I share in their sentiment) with the finding that 99% (104/105) of the families stayed with the study until completion, demonstrating that future studies using this format were highly feasible. The authors of the study were pleased also and possibly surprised that 94% (33/35) of the families who received the intervention adhered to the recommendations.
One Suggestion: ‘Just Shut the TV Off’
If you are a cynic, you might be tempted to explain the investigators’ (and my) excitement over the feasibility and adherence numbers as an attempt to pump up the importance of a set of otherwise lackluster numbers regarding sleep and the failure to find any association between the intervention and attention. However, having spent a large part of my career trying to encourage parents to improve their child’s sleep hygiene, often with little success, I am encouraged by this study’s success in getting families to accept and then adhere to the intervention.
I must admit that when presented with a child who appeared to be having some attention difficulties and was watching television as part of his or her bedtime ritual, there’s a good chance I would have simply told the parents, “Just shut the TV off.” This certainly worked with some families, particularly those who had already bought into my preaching about the importance of sleep. However, my acceptance and adherence rates were no where near the 99% and 94% these investigators where achieving.
I did try to make follow-up phone calls, as these investigators did, but generally only to the most seriously effected families or in situations in which felt I was going to have the greatest chance of success. I am sorry to say that I didn’t involve the parents in crafting my overly simplistic intervention. Had I been more open to parental input, I suspect my results would have improved.
An Alternative
I think another reason for these investigators’ success was the clever ploy of offering a replacement (in this case the bedtime box of alternative activities) when they asked the parents to remove the screen time. Getting anyone to break an unhealthy habit, be they parents or patients, it often helps to offer them an alternative. The activity may not be as appealing as their current behavior but it can fill the gap until a new even healthier behavior develops.
Building an efficient and effective bedtime ritual begins in the first months of life. The initial challenge could be separating nursing or a bottle from the settling in process. Later on it could mean helping a parent who is out of the home all day understand that they may have to suppress their natural urge to engage in vigorous play with his/her child at a time that is best devoted to winding down into a healthy bedtime ritual. Although screen time may not be physically stimulating, there is increasing evidence that it shouldn’t be part of a pre-bedtime ritual. The question of if and how it contributes to attention problems will have to wait until another day.
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.
For decades I have suspected that there is a strong association between sleep deprivation and pediatric attention disorders. More recently I have wondered whether screen time, particularly at bedtime might be a significant contributor to sleep quantity and quality in both children and adults. There is a growing body of research that combines my two observations and suggests that bedtime screen time through its effect on sleep may be linked to pediatric attention problems. However, most of this work is preliminary and needs to be confirmed.
Stumbling across a paper from England titled “Toddler Screen Use Before Bed and Its Effect on Sleep and Attention” renewed my hope that we finally have evidence to close that knowledge gap. My bubble burst quickly however when I jumped ahead and read the conclusion portion of the abstract and learned that authors observed “no clear difference in parent reported attention” in the group of children in which screen time before bedtime had been eliminated. The authors wonder if their small study sample may be to blame.
Disappointed, I persisted and read the paper in its entirety and found that despite their failure to link bedtime screen time with attention disorders, the investigators have made a significant contribution to our understanding of how we can better encourage good pediatric sleep hygiene.
The Study
One hundred and five families with a toddler who was being exposed to a video screen in the hour before bedtime were divided into three groups. One group received guidance and advice from a pediatric team about the potential benefit of eliminating bedtime screen time. They were also given a box of activities that contained “activity cards and age appropriate toys” to replace the screen use. The family also received periodic support and follow-up contacts. A second group received only the “bedtime box.” And the third received no intervention.
It is important to note that the investigators modeled their intervention on one developed in a previous study using older children that was “co-created with caregivers and early years practitioners”(my italics).
The intervention resulted in reductions in parent-reported screen time, sleep efficiency, night awakenings, and daytime sleep. The decrease in nap time was a surprise to the investigators.
These reductions were small. However, the investigators were most impressed (and I share in their sentiment) with the finding that 99% (104/105) of the families stayed with the study until completion, demonstrating that future studies using this format were highly feasible. The authors of the study were pleased also and possibly surprised that 94% (33/35) of the families who received the intervention adhered to the recommendations.
One Suggestion: ‘Just Shut the TV Off’
If you are a cynic, you might be tempted to explain the investigators’ (and my) excitement over the feasibility and adherence numbers as an attempt to pump up the importance of a set of otherwise lackluster numbers regarding sleep and the failure to find any association between the intervention and attention. However, having spent a large part of my career trying to encourage parents to improve their child’s sleep hygiene, often with little success, I am encouraged by this study’s success in getting families to accept and then adhere to the intervention.
I must admit that when presented with a child who appeared to be having some attention difficulties and was watching television as part of his or her bedtime ritual, there’s a good chance I would have simply told the parents, “Just shut the TV off.” This certainly worked with some families, particularly those who had already bought into my preaching about the importance of sleep. However, my acceptance and adherence rates were no where near the 99% and 94% these investigators where achieving.
I did try to make follow-up phone calls, as these investigators did, but generally only to the most seriously effected families or in situations in which felt I was going to have the greatest chance of success. I am sorry to say that I didn’t involve the parents in crafting my overly simplistic intervention. Had I been more open to parental input, I suspect my results would have improved.
An Alternative
I think another reason for these investigators’ success was the clever ploy of offering a replacement (in this case the bedtime box of alternative activities) when they asked the parents to remove the screen time. Getting anyone to break an unhealthy habit, be they parents or patients, it often helps to offer them an alternative. The activity may not be as appealing as their current behavior but it can fill the gap until a new even healthier behavior develops.
Building an efficient and effective bedtime ritual begins in the first months of life. The initial challenge could be separating nursing or a bottle from the settling in process. Later on it could mean helping a parent who is out of the home all day understand that they may have to suppress their natural urge to engage in vigorous play with his/her child at a time that is best devoted to winding down into a healthy bedtime ritual. Although screen time may not be physically stimulating, there is increasing evidence that it shouldn’t be part of a pre-bedtime ritual. The question of if and how it contributes to attention problems will have to wait until another day.
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.
For decades I have suspected that there is a strong association between sleep deprivation and pediatric attention disorders. More recently I have wondered whether screen time, particularly at bedtime might be a significant contributor to sleep quantity and quality in both children and adults. There is a growing body of research that combines my two observations and suggests that bedtime screen time through its effect on sleep may be linked to pediatric attention problems. However, most of this work is preliminary and needs to be confirmed.
Stumbling across a paper from England titled “Toddler Screen Use Before Bed and Its Effect on Sleep and Attention” renewed my hope that we finally have evidence to close that knowledge gap. My bubble burst quickly however when I jumped ahead and read the conclusion portion of the abstract and learned that authors observed “no clear difference in parent reported attention” in the group of children in which screen time before bedtime had been eliminated. The authors wonder if their small study sample may be to blame.
Disappointed, I persisted and read the paper in its entirety and found that despite their failure to link bedtime screen time with attention disorders, the investigators have made a significant contribution to our understanding of how we can better encourage good pediatric sleep hygiene.
The Study
One hundred and five families with a toddler who was being exposed to a video screen in the hour before bedtime were divided into three groups. One group received guidance and advice from a pediatric team about the potential benefit of eliminating bedtime screen time. They were also given a box of activities that contained “activity cards and age appropriate toys” to replace the screen use. The family also received periodic support and follow-up contacts. A second group received only the “bedtime box.” And the third received no intervention.
It is important to note that the investigators modeled their intervention on one developed in a previous study using older children that was “co-created with caregivers and early years practitioners”(my italics).
The intervention resulted in reductions in parent-reported screen time, sleep efficiency, night awakenings, and daytime sleep. The decrease in nap time was a surprise to the investigators.
These reductions were small. However, the investigators were most impressed (and I share in their sentiment) with the finding that 99% (104/105) of the families stayed with the study until completion, demonstrating that future studies using this format were highly feasible. The authors of the study were pleased also and possibly surprised that 94% (33/35) of the families who received the intervention adhered to the recommendations.
One Suggestion: ‘Just Shut the TV Off’
If you are a cynic, you might be tempted to explain the investigators’ (and my) excitement over the feasibility and adherence numbers as an attempt to pump up the importance of a set of otherwise lackluster numbers regarding sleep and the failure to find any association between the intervention and attention. However, having spent a large part of my career trying to encourage parents to improve their child’s sleep hygiene, often with little success, I am encouraged by this study’s success in getting families to accept and then adhere to the intervention.
I must admit that when presented with a child who appeared to be having some attention difficulties and was watching television as part of his or her bedtime ritual, there’s a good chance I would have simply told the parents, “Just shut the TV off.” This certainly worked with some families, particularly those who had already bought into my preaching about the importance of sleep. However, my acceptance and adherence rates were no where near the 99% and 94% these investigators where achieving.
I did try to make follow-up phone calls, as these investigators did, but generally only to the most seriously effected families or in situations in which felt I was going to have the greatest chance of success. I am sorry to say that I didn’t involve the parents in crafting my overly simplistic intervention. Had I been more open to parental input, I suspect my results would have improved.
An Alternative
I think another reason for these investigators’ success was the clever ploy of offering a replacement (in this case the bedtime box of alternative activities) when they asked the parents to remove the screen time. Getting anyone to break an unhealthy habit, be they parents or patients, it often helps to offer them an alternative. The activity may not be as appealing as their current behavior but it can fill the gap until a new even healthier behavior develops.
Building an efficient and effective bedtime ritual begins in the first months of life. The initial challenge could be separating nursing or a bottle from the settling in process. Later on it could mean helping a parent who is out of the home all day understand that they may have to suppress their natural urge to engage in vigorous play with his/her child at a time that is best devoted to winding down into a healthy bedtime ritual. Although screen time may not be physically stimulating, there is increasing evidence that it shouldn’t be part of a pre-bedtime ritual. The question of if and how it contributes to attention problems will have to wait until another day.
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.
Nutrition and Medical Education
How comfortable are you giving nutritional advice to your patients? When you offer it are you basing your advice on something you learned during medical school or your training? Was it included in a course devoted to nutrition? Did you learn it later as part of continuing medical education course (CME)? Or was it just something you just picked up from your experience seeing patients (osmosis)? It is very unlikely that a significant portion, or any part for that matter, of your medical training was devoted to nutrition. It certainly wasn’t during my training.
I recently read an interview with Emily M. Broad Leib, JD, faculty director of the Harvard School Center for Health Law and Policy Innovation, Cambridge, Massachusetts, who would like to correct that deficiency. She feels doctors need to know more about food and that acquiring that knowledge should be a significant component of their formal training.
In the interview, Leib said that “roughly 86% of physicians report they do not feel adequately trained to answer basic questions on diet or nutrition.” She also notes that while “72% of entering medical students report they believe food is important to health” less than 50% retained this belief after graduation.
Leib and associates feel they have recently reached a milestone in their efforts to include nutrition in the mainstream of medical education this fall by publishing a paper that demonstrates “consensus on doctor-approved nutritional standard for medical schools and residency programs.”
36 Recommended Competencies
Curious about what these nutrition experts chose to include in medical training, I decided to drill down into the list of 36 consensus-driven competencies they had agreed upon.
It was an interesting voyage into a forest of redundancies, many of which can be boiled down to having the student demonstrate that he/she understands that what we eat is important to our health and that there is a complex web of relationships connecting our society to the food consume.
Some of the recommended competencies I found make perfect sense. For example the student/trainee should be able to take a diet and food history and be able to interpret lab values and anthropometric measurements and be able to discuss the patient’s weight and diet with sensitivity while keeping in mind his/her own biases about food.
Some other recommendations are more problematic, for example, “performs a comprehensive nutrition-focused physical examination” or “demonstrates knowledge of how to create culinary nutrition SMART [Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-Bound] goals for personal use and for patient care” or “provides brief counseling interventions to help patients decrease visceral adiposity or reduce the risk of metabolic syndrome.” Including competencies like these demonstrates a lack of understanding of the time restraints and realities of a primary care physician’s life and training.
Instead of simply reinforcing the prospective physician’s preexisting assumption that food and health are entwined and discussing when and how to consult a nutrition expert, these 36 competencies seem to be an attempt to create fast-tracked part-time dietitians and nutrition advocates out of medical students and trainees who already believe that nutrition is important for health but also have a very full plate of clinical responsibilities ahead of them.
The study that Leib quotes — that 72% of medical students believed food was important in health while after graduation only 50% of agreed — doesn’t necessarily mean that professors are preaching that food was unimportant. It is more likely by the end of medical school the students have seen that food must share the spotlight with numerous other factors that influence their patients’ health.
‘A More Appropriate Focus’
In my experience, diet and lifestyle counseling done well is extremely time consuming and best done by people for whom that is their specialty. A more appropriate focus for a list of nutritional competencies for physicians in training would be for the student to achieve an understanding of when and how to consult a dietitian and then how to support and evaluate the dietitian’s recommendations to the patient.
Finally, I don’t think we can ignore a serious public relations problem that hangs like a cloud over the nutrition advocacy community. It is the same one that casts a shadow on the medical community as well. It is a common perception among the lay public that nutritionists (and physicians) are always changing their recommendations when it comes to food. What is believable? Just think about eggs, red wine, or introducing peanuts to infants, to name just a few. And what about the food pyramids that seem to have been rebuilt every several years? The problem is compounded when some “credentialed” nutritionists and physicians continue to make dietary pronouncements with only a shred of evidence or poorly documented anecdotal observations.
The first of the 36 competencies I reviewed reads: “Provide evidence-based, culturally sensitive nutrition and food recommendations for the prevention and treatment of disease.” When it comes to nutrition the “evidence” can be tough to come by. The natural experiments in which individuals and populations had extremely limited access to a certain nutrients (eg, scurvy) don’t occur very often. Animal studies don’t always extrapolate to humans. And, observational studies concerning diet often have co-factors that are difficult to control and must run over time courses that can tax even the most patient researchers.
I certainly applaud Leib and associates for promoting their primary goal of including more about of the relationship between food and health in the medical school and trainee curriculum. But I must voice a caution to be careful to keep it truly evidence-based and in a format that acknowledges the realities of the life and education of a primary care provider.
The best nutritional advice I ever received in my training was from an older pediatric professor who suggested that a healthy diet consisted of everything in moderation.
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.
How comfortable are you giving nutritional advice to your patients? When you offer it are you basing your advice on something you learned during medical school or your training? Was it included in a course devoted to nutrition? Did you learn it later as part of continuing medical education course (CME)? Or was it just something you just picked up from your experience seeing patients (osmosis)? It is very unlikely that a significant portion, or any part for that matter, of your medical training was devoted to nutrition. It certainly wasn’t during my training.
I recently read an interview with Emily M. Broad Leib, JD, faculty director of the Harvard School Center for Health Law and Policy Innovation, Cambridge, Massachusetts, who would like to correct that deficiency. She feels doctors need to know more about food and that acquiring that knowledge should be a significant component of their formal training.
In the interview, Leib said that “roughly 86% of physicians report they do not feel adequately trained to answer basic questions on diet or nutrition.” She also notes that while “72% of entering medical students report they believe food is important to health” less than 50% retained this belief after graduation.
Leib and associates feel they have recently reached a milestone in their efforts to include nutrition in the mainstream of medical education this fall by publishing a paper that demonstrates “consensus on doctor-approved nutritional standard for medical schools and residency programs.”
36 Recommended Competencies
Curious about what these nutrition experts chose to include in medical training, I decided to drill down into the list of 36 consensus-driven competencies they had agreed upon.
It was an interesting voyage into a forest of redundancies, many of which can be boiled down to having the student demonstrate that he/she understands that what we eat is important to our health and that there is a complex web of relationships connecting our society to the food consume.
Some of the recommended competencies I found make perfect sense. For example the student/trainee should be able to take a diet and food history and be able to interpret lab values and anthropometric measurements and be able to discuss the patient’s weight and diet with sensitivity while keeping in mind his/her own biases about food.
Some other recommendations are more problematic, for example, “performs a comprehensive nutrition-focused physical examination” or “demonstrates knowledge of how to create culinary nutrition SMART [Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-Bound] goals for personal use and for patient care” or “provides brief counseling interventions to help patients decrease visceral adiposity or reduce the risk of metabolic syndrome.” Including competencies like these demonstrates a lack of understanding of the time restraints and realities of a primary care physician’s life and training.
Instead of simply reinforcing the prospective physician’s preexisting assumption that food and health are entwined and discussing when and how to consult a nutrition expert, these 36 competencies seem to be an attempt to create fast-tracked part-time dietitians and nutrition advocates out of medical students and trainees who already believe that nutrition is important for health but also have a very full plate of clinical responsibilities ahead of them.
The study that Leib quotes — that 72% of medical students believed food was important in health while after graduation only 50% of agreed — doesn’t necessarily mean that professors are preaching that food was unimportant. It is more likely by the end of medical school the students have seen that food must share the spotlight with numerous other factors that influence their patients’ health.
‘A More Appropriate Focus’
In my experience, diet and lifestyle counseling done well is extremely time consuming and best done by people for whom that is their specialty. A more appropriate focus for a list of nutritional competencies for physicians in training would be for the student to achieve an understanding of when and how to consult a dietitian and then how to support and evaluate the dietitian’s recommendations to the patient.
Finally, I don’t think we can ignore a serious public relations problem that hangs like a cloud over the nutrition advocacy community. It is the same one that casts a shadow on the medical community as well. It is a common perception among the lay public that nutritionists (and physicians) are always changing their recommendations when it comes to food. What is believable? Just think about eggs, red wine, or introducing peanuts to infants, to name just a few. And what about the food pyramids that seem to have been rebuilt every several years? The problem is compounded when some “credentialed” nutritionists and physicians continue to make dietary pronouncements with only a shred of evidence or poorly documented anecdotal observations.
The first of the 36 competencies I reviewed reads: “Provide evidence-based, culturally sensitive nutrition and food recommendations for the prevention and treatment of disease.” When it comes to nutrition the “evidence” can be tough to come by. The natural experiments in which individuals and populations had extremely limited access to a certain nutrients (eg, scurvy) don’t occur very often. Animal studies don’t always extrapolate to humans. And, observational studies concerning diet often have co-factors that are difficult to control and must run over time courses that can tax even the most patient researchers.
I certainly applaud Leib and associates for promoting their primary goal of including more about of the relationship between food and health in the medical school and trainee curriculum. But I must voice a caution to be careful to keep it truly evidence-based and in a format that acknowledges the realities of the life and education of a primary care provider.
The best nutritional advice I ever received in my training was from an older pediatric professor who suggested that a healthy diet consisted of everything in moderation.
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.
How comfortable are you giving nutritional advice to your patients? When you offer it are you basing your advice on something you learned during medical school or your training? Was it included in a course devoted to nutrition? Did you learn it later as part of continuing medical education course (CME)? Or was it just something you just picked up from your experience seeing patients (osmosis)? It is very unlikely that a significant portion, or any part for that matter, of your medical training was devoted to nutrition. It certainly wasn’t during my training.
I recently read an interview with Emily M. Broad Leib, JD, faculty director of the Harvard School Center for Health Law and Policy Innovation, Cambridge, Massachusetts, who would like to correct that deficiency. She feels doctors need to know more about food and that acquiring that knowledge should be a significant component of their formal training.
In the interview, Leib said that “roughly 86% of physicians report they do not feel adequately trained to answer basic questions on diet or nutrition.” She also notes that while “72% of entering medical students report they believe food is important to health” less than 50% retained this belief after graduation.
Leib and associates feel they have recently reached a milestone in their efforts to include nutrition in the mainstream of medical education this fall by publishing a paper that demonstrates “consensus on doctor-approved nutritional standard for medical schools and residency programs.”
36 Recommended Competencies
Curious about what these nutrition experts chose to include in medical training, I decided to drill down into the list of 36 consensus-driven competencies they had agreed upon.
It was an interesting voyage into a forest of redundancies, many of which can be boiled down to having the student demonstrate that he/she understands that what we eat is important to our health and that there is a complex web of relationships connecting our society to the food consume.
Some of the recommended competencies I found make perfect sense. For example the student/trainee should be able to take a diet and food history and be able to interpret lab values and anthropometric measurements and be able to discuss the patient’s weight and diet with sensitivity while keeping in mind his/her own biases about food.
Some other recommendations are more problematic, for example, “performs a comprehensive nutrition-focused physical examination” or “demonstrates knowledge of how to create culinary nutrition SMART [Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-Bound] goals for personal use and for patient care” or “provides brief counseling interventions to help patients decrease visceral adiposity or reduce the risk of metabolic syndrome.” Including competencies like these demonstrates a lack of understanding of the time restraints and realities of a primary care physician’s life and training.
Instead of simply reinforcing the prospective physician’s preexisting assumption that food and health are entwined and discussing when and how to consult a nutrition expert, these 36 competencies seem to be an attempt to create fast-tracked part-time dietitians and nutrition advocates out of medical students and trainees who already believe that nutrition is important for health but also have a very full plate of clinical responsibilities ahead of them.
The study that Leib quotes — that 72% of medical students believed food was important in health while after graduation only 50% of agreed — doesn’t necessarily mean that professors are preaching that food was unimportant. It is more likely by the end of medical school the students have seen that food must share the spotlight with numerous other factors that influence their patients’ health.
‘A More Appropriate Focus’
In my experience, diet and lifestyle counseling done well is extremely time consuming and best done by people for whom that is their specialty. A more appropriate focus for a list of nutritional competencies for physicians in training would be for the student to achieve an understanding of when and how to consult a dietitian and then how to support and evaluate the dietitian’s recommendations to the patient.
Finally, I don’t think we can ignore a serious public relations problem that hangs like a cloud over the nutrition advocacy community. It is the same one that casts a shadow on the medical community as well. It is a common perception among the lay public that nutritionists (and physicians) are always changing their recommendations when it comes to food. What is believable? Just think about eggs, red wine, or introducing peanuts to infants, to name just a few. And what about the food pyramids that seem to have been rebuilt every several years? The problem is compounded when some “credentialed” nutritionists and physicians continue to make dietary pronouncements with only a shred of evidence or poorly documented anecdotal observations.
The first of the 36 competencies I reviewed reads: “Provide evidence-based, culturally sensitive nutrition and food recommendations for the prevention and treatment of disease.” When it comes to nutrition the “evidence” can be tough to come by. The natural experiments in which individuals and populations had extremely limited access to a certain nutrients (eg, scurvy) don’t occur very often. Animal studies don’t always extrapolate to humans. And, observational studies concerning diet often have co-factors that are difficult to control and must run over time courses that can tax even the most patient researchers.
I certainly applaud Leib and associates for promoting their primary goal of including more about of the relationship between food and health in the medical school and trainee curriculum. But I must voice a caution to be careful to keep it truly evidence-based and in a format that acknowledges the realities of the life and education of a primary care provider.
The best nutritional advice I ever received in my training was from an older pediatric professor who suggested that a healthy diet consisted of everything in moderation.
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.
Obesity: A Social Vulnerability
Sometime in the last year or 2 I wrote that, despite my considerable reservations, I had finally come to the conclusion that the American Medical Association’s decision to designate obesity as a disease was appropriate. My rationalization was that the disease label would open more opportunities for funding obesity treatments. However, the explosive growth and popularity of glucagon-like peptide 1 (GLP-1) agonists over the last year has had me rethinking my decision to suppress my long-held reservations about the disease designation.
So, if it’s not a disease, then what should we call it? How do we explain its surge in high-income countries that began in the 1980s? While there are still some folks who see obesity as a character flaw, I think you and I as healthcare providers have difficulty explaining the increase prevalence of obesity as either global breakdown of willpower or a widespread genetic shift as the result of burst of radiation from solar flares.
However, if we want to continue our search and finger-pointing we need to have a better definition of exactly what obesity is. If we’re going to continue calling it a disease we have done a pretty sloppy job of creating diagnostic criteria. To be honest, we aren’t doing such a hot job with “long COVID” either.
A recent article in the New York Times makes it clear that I’m not the only physician who is feeling uncomfortable with this lack of diagnostic specificity.
We know that using body mass index (BMI) as a criteria is imprecise. There are healthy individuals with elevated BMIs and there are others who are carrying an unhealthy amount of fat who have normal BMIs. And, there are individuals who have what might appear to be an excess amount of fat who are fit and healthy by other criteria.
Some investigators feel that a set of measurements that includes a waist and/or hip measurement may be a more accurate way of determining visceral adipose tissue. However, this body roundness index (BRI) currently relies on a tape measurement. Until the technique can be preformed by an inexpensive and readily available scanner, the BRI cannot be considered a practical tool for determining obesity.
Dr. Francisco Rubino, the chair of metabolic and bariatric surgery at Kings College in London, England, has been quoted as saying that, “if one defines a disease inaccurately, everything that stems from that – from diagnosis to treatment to policies – will be distorted and biased.”
Denmark has been forced to relabel obesity as a risk factor because the disease designation was stressing the financial viability of their healthcare system as more and more patients were being prescribe GLP-1 agonists, sometimes off label. A rationing strategy was resulting in suboptimal treatment of a significant portion of the obese population.
Spearheaded by Dr. Rubino, a Lancet Commission composed of physicians has tasked itself to define an “evidence-based diagnosis for obesity. Instead of relying on a single metric such as the BMI or BRI, diagnosing “clinical obesity” would involve a broad array of observations including a history, physical examination, standard laboratory and additional testing, “naming signs and symptoms, organ by organ, tissue by tissue, with plausible mechanisms for each one.” In other words, treating each patient as an individual using evidence-based criteria to make a diagnosis. While likely to be time consuming, this strategy feels like a more scientific approach. I suspect once clinical obesity is more rigorously defined it could be divided into several subtypes. For example, there would be a few conditions that were genetic; Prader-Willi syndrome being the best known.
However, I think the Lancet Commission’s strategy will find that the majority of individuals who make up this half-century global surge have become clinically obese because they have been unable to adapt to the obeseogenic forces in our society, which include diet, autocentricity, and attractive sedentary forms of entertainment, to name just three.
In some cases these unfortunate individuals are more vulnerable because there were born into an economically disadvantaged situation. In other scenarios a lack of foresight and/or political will may have left individuals with no other choice but to rely on automobiles to get around. Still others may find themselves living in a nutritional desert because all of the grocery stores have closed.
I recently encountered a descriptor in a story about the Federal Emergency Management Agency which could easily be adapted to describe this large and growing subtype of individuals with clinical obesity. “Social vulnerability” is measure of how well a community can withstand external stressors that impact human health. For example, the emergency management folks are thinking in terms of natural disaster such as hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes and are asking how well a given community can meet the challenges one would create.
But, the term social vulnerability can easily be applied to individuals living in a society in which unhealthy food is abundant, an infrastructure that discourages or outright prevents non-motorized travel, and the temptation of sedentary entertainment options is unavoidable. Fortunately, not every citizen living in an obesogenic society becomes obese. What factors have protected the non-obese individuals from these obeseogenic stressors? What are the characteristics of the unfortunate “vulnerables” living in the same society who end up being obese?
It is time to shift our focus away from a poorly defined disease model to one in which we begin looking at our society to find out why we have so many socially vulnerable individuals. The toll of obesity as it is currently defined is many order of magnitudes greater than any natural disaster. We have become communities that can no longer withstand the its obesogenic stressors many of which we have created and/or allowed to accumulate over the last century.
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.
Sometime in the last year or 2 I wrote that, despite my considerable reservations, I had finally come to the conclusion that the American Medical Association’s decision to designate obesity as a disease was appropriate. My rationalization was that the disease label would open more opportunities for funding obesity treatments. However, the explosive growth and popularity of glucagon-like peptide 1 (GLP-1) agonists over the last year has had me rethinking my decision to suppress my long-held reservations about the disease designation.
So, if it’s not a disease, then what should we call it? How do we explain its surge in high-income countries that began in the 1980s? While there are still some folks who see obesity as a character flaw, I think you and I as healthcare providers have difficulty explaining the increase prevalence of obesity as either global breakdown of willpower or a widespread genetic shift as the result of burst of radiation from solar flares.
However, if we want to continue our search and finger-pointing we need to have a better definition of exactly what obesity is. If we’re going to continue calling it a disease we have done a pretty sloppy job of creating diagnostic criteria. To be honest, we aren’t doing such a hot job with “long COVID” either.
A recent article in the New York Times makes it clear that I’m not the only physician who is feeling uncomfortable with this lack of diagnostic specificity.
We know that using body mass index (BMI) as a criteria is imprecise. There are healthy individuals with elevated BMIs and there are others who are carrying an unhealthy amount of fat who have normal BMIs. And, there are individuals who have what might appear to be an excess amount of fat who are fit and healthy by other criteria.
Some investigators feel that a set of measurements that includes a waist and/or hip measurement may be a more accurate way of determining visceral adipose tissue. However, this body roundness index (BRI) currently relies on a tape measurement. Until the technique can be preformed by an inexpensive and readily available scanner, the BRI cannot be considered a practical tool for determining obesity.
Dr. Francisco Rubino, the chair of metabolic and bariatric surgery at Kings College in London, England, has been quoted as saying that, “if one defines a disease inaccurately, everything that stems from that – from diagnosis to treatment to policies – will be distorted and biased.”
Denmark has been forced to relabel obesity as a risk factor because the disease designation was stressing the financial viability of their healthcare system as more and more patients were being prescribe GLP-1 agonists, sometimes off label. A rationing strategy was resulting in suboptimal treatment of a significant portion of the obese population.
Spearheaded by Dr. Rubino, a Lancet Commission composed of physicians has tasked itself to define an “evidence-based diagnosis for obesity. Instead of relying on a single metric such as the BMI or BRI, diagnosing “clinical obesity” would involve a broad array of observations including a history, physical examination, standard laboratory and additional testing, “naming signs and symptoms, organ by organ, tissue by tissue, with plausible mechanisms for each one.” In other words, treating each patient as an individual using evidence-based criteria to make a diagnosis. While likely to be time consuming, this strategy feels like a more scientific approach. I suspect once clinical obesity is more rigorously defined it could be divided into several subtypes. For example, there would be a few conditions that were genetic; Prader-Willi syndrome being the best known.
However, I think the Lancet Commission’s strategy will find that the majority of individuals who make up this half-century global surge have become clinically obese because they have been unable to adapt to the obeseogenic forces in our society, which include diet, autocentricity, and attractive sedentary forms of entertainment, to name just three.
In some cases these unfortunate individuals are more vulnerable because there were born into an economically disadvantaged situation. In other scenarios a lack of foresight and/or political will may have left individuals with no other choice but to rely on automobiles to get around. Still others may find themselves living in a nutritional desert because all of the grocery stores have closed.
I recently encountered a descriptor in a story about the Federal Emergency Management Agency which could easily be adapted to describe this large and growing subtype of individuals with clinical obesity. “Social vulnerability” is measure of how well a community can withstand external stressors that impact human health. For example, the emergency management folks are thinking in terms of natural disaster such as hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes and are asking how well a given community can meet the challenges one would create.
But, the term social vulnerability can easily be applied to individuals living in a society in which unhealthy food is abundant, an infrastructure that discourages or outright prevents non-motorized travel, and the temptation of sedentary entertainment options is unavoidable. Fortunately, not every citizen living in an obesogenic society becomes obese. What factors have protected the non-obese individuals from these obeseogenic stressors? What are the characteristics of the unfortunate “vulnerables” living in the same society who end up being obese?
It is time to shift our focus away from a poorly defined disease model to one in which we begin looking at our society to find out why we have so many socially vulnerable individuals. The toll of obesity as it is currently defined is many order of magnitudes greater than any natural disaster. We have become communities that can no longer withstand the its obesogenic stressors many of which we have created and/or allowed to accumulate over the last century.
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.
Sometime in the last year or 2 I wrote that, despite my considerable reservations, I had finally come to the conclusion that the American Medical Association’s decision to designate obesity as a disease was appropriate. My rationalization was that the disease label would open more opportunities for funding obesity treatments. However, the explosive growth and popularity of glucagon-like peptide 1 (GLP-1) agonists over the last year has had me rethinking my decision to suppress my long-held reservations about the disease designation.
So, if it’s not a disease, then what should we call it? How do we explain its surge in high-income countries that began in the 1980s? While there are still some folks who see obesity as a character flaw, I think you and I as healthcare providers have difficulty explaining the increase prevalence of obesity as either global breakdown of willpower or a widespread genetic shift as the result of burst of radiation from solar flares.
However, if we want to continue our search and finger-pointing we need to have a better definition of exactly what obesity is. If we’re going to continue calling it a disease we have done a pretty sloppy job of creating diagnostic criteria. To be honest, we aren’t doing such a hot job with “long COVID” either.
A recent article in the New York Times makes it clear that I’m not the only physician who is feeling uncomfortable with this lack of diagnostic specificity.
We know that using body mass index (BMI) as a criteria is imprecise. There are healthy individuals with elevated BMIs and there are others who are carrying an unhealthy amount of fat who have normal BMIs. And, there are individuals who have what might appear to be an excess amount of fat who are fit and healthy by other criteria.
Some investigators feel that a set of measurements that includes a waist and/or hip measurement may be a more accurate way of determining visceral adipose tissue. However, this body roundness index (BRI) currently relies on a tape measurement. Until the technique can be preformed by an inexpensive and readily available scanner, the BRI cannot be considered a practical tool for determining obesity.
Dr. Francisco Rubino, the chair of metabolic and bariatric surgery at Kings College in London, England, has been quoted as saying that, “if one defines a disease inaccurately, everything that stems from that – from diagnosis to treatment to policies – will be distorted and biased.”
Denmark has been forced to relabel obesity as a risk factor because the disease designation was stressing the financial viability of their healthcare system as more and more patients were being prescribe GLP-1 agonists, sometimes off label. A rationing strategy was resulting in suboptimal treatment of a significant portion of the obese population.
Spearheaded by Dr. Rubino, a Lancet Commission composed of physicians has tasked itself to define an “evidence-based diagnosis for obesity. Instead of relying on a single metric such as the BMI or BRI, diagnosing “clinical obesity” would involve a broad array of observations including a history, physical examination, standard laboratory and additional testing, “naming signs and symptoms, organ by organ, tissue by tissue, with plausible mechanisms for each one.” In other words, treating each patient as an individual using evidence-based criteria to make a diagnosis. While likely to be time consuming, this strategy feels like a more scientific approach. I suspect once clinical obesity is more rigorously defined it could be divided into several subtypes. For example, there would be a few conditions that were genetic; Prader-Willi syndrome being the best known.
However, I think the Lancet Commission’s strategy will find that the majority of individuals who make up this half-century global surge have become clinically obese because they have been unable to adapt to the obeseogenic forces in our society, which include diet, autocentricity, and attractive sedentary forms of entertainment, to name just three.
In some cases these unfortunate individuals are more vulnerable because there were born into an economically disadvantaged situation. In other scenarios a lack of foresight and/or political will may have left individuals with no other choice but to rely on automobiles to get around. Still others may find themselves living in a nutritional desert because all of the grocery stores have closed.
I recently encountered a descriptor in a story about the Federal Emergency Management Agency which could easily be adapted to describe this large and growing subtype of individuals with clinical obesity. “Social vulnerability” is measure of how well a community can withstand external stressors that impact human health. For example, the emergency management folks are thinking in terms of natural disaster such as hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes and are asking how well a given community can meet the challenges one would create.
But, the term social vulnerability can easily be applied to individuals living in a society in which unhealthy food is abundant, an infrastructure that discourages or outright prevents non-motorized travel, and the temptation of sedentary entertainment options is unavoidable. Fortunately, not every citizen living in an obesogenic society becomes obese. What factors have protected the non-obese individuals from these obeseogenic stressors? What are the characteristics of the unfortunate “vulnerables” living in the same society who end up being obese?
It is time to shift our focus away from a poorly defined disease model to one in which we begin looking at our society to find out why we have so many socially vulnerable individuals. The toll of obesity as it is currently defined is many order of magnitudes greater than any natural disaster. We have become communities that can no longer withstand the its obesogenic stressors many of which we have created and/or allowed to accumulate over the last century.
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.
Preventing Pediatric Migraine
I suspect you all have some experience with childhood migraine. It can mean a painful several hours for the patient, arriving often without warning, with recurrences spaced months or sometimes even years apart. It may be accompanied by vomiting, which in some cases overshadows the severity of the headache. It can result in lost days from school and ruin family activities. It can occur so infrequently that the family can’t recall accurately when the last episode happened. In some ways it is a different animal than the adult version.
Most of the pediatric patients with migraine I have seen have experienced attacks that were occurring so infrequently that the families and I seldom discussed medication as an option. Back then imipramine was the only choice. However, currently there are more than a half dozen medications and combinations that have been tried. Recently a review of 45 clinical trials of these medications was published in JAMA Network Open.
I will let you review for yourself the details of these Iranian investigators’ network meta-analysis, but the bottom line is that some medications were associated with a reduction in migraine frequency. Others were associated with headache intensity. “However, no treatments were associated with significant improvements in quality of life or reduction of the duration of migraine attacks.”
Obviously, this paper illustrates clearly that we have not yet discovered the medicinal magic bullet for pediatric migraine prophylaxis. This doesn’t surprise me. After listening to scores of families tell their migraine stories, it became apparent to me that there was often a pattern in which the child’s headache had arrived after a period of acute sleep deprivation. For example, a trip to an amusement park in which travel or excitement may have resulted in the child going to bed later and/or getting up earlier. By afternoon the child’s reserves of something (currently unknown) were depleted to a point that the headache and/or vomiting struck.
Because these episodes were often so infrequent, separated by months, that taking a history demonstrating a recurring pattern could take considerable patience on the part of the family and the provider, even for a physician like myself who believes that better sleep is the answer for everything. However, once I could convince a family of the connection between the sleep deprivation and the headaches, they could often recall other episodes in the past that substantiated my explanation.
In some cases there was no obvious history of acute sleep deprivation, or at least it was so subtle that even a history taker with a sleep obsession couldn’t detect it. However, in these cases I could usually elicit a history of chronic sleep deprivation. For example, falling asleep instantly on automobile rides, difficulty with waking in the morning, or unhealthy bedtime routines. With this underlying vulnerability of chronic sleep deprivation, a slightly more exciting or vigorous day was all that was necessary to trigger the headache.
For those of you who don’t share my contention that childhood migraine is usually the result of sleep deprivation, consider the similarity between an epileptic seizure, which can be triggered by fatigue. Both events are usually followed by a deep sleep from which the child wakes refreshed and symptom free.
I think it is interesting that this recent meta-analysis could find no benefit in the quality of life for any of the medications. The explanation may be that the child with migraine already had a somewhat diminished quality of life as a result of the sleep deprivation, either acute or chronic.
When speaking with parents of migraine sufferers, I would tell them that once the headache had started there was little I had to offer to forestall the inevitable pain and vomiting. Certainly not in the form of an oral medication. While many adults will have an aura that warns them of the headache onset, I have found that most children don’t describe an aura. It may be they simply lack the ability to express it. Occasionally an observant parent may detect pallor or a behavior change that indicates a migraine is beginning. On rare occasions a parent may be able to abort the attack by quickly getting the child to a quiet, dark, and calm environment.
Although this recent meta-analysis review of treatment options is discouraging, it may be providing a clue to effective prophylaxis. Some of the medications that decrease the frequency of the attacks may be doing so because they improve the patient’s sleep patterns. Those that decrease the intensity of the pain are probably working on pain pathway that is not specific to migraine.
Continuing a search for a prophylactic medication is a worthy goal, particularly for those patients in which their migraines are debilitating. However, based on my experience, enhanced by my bias, the safest and most effective prophylaxis results from increasing the family’s awareness of the role that sleep deprivation plays in the illness. Even when the family buys into the message and attempts to avoid situations that will tax their vulnerable children, parents will need to accept that sometimes stuff happens even though siblings and peers may be able to tolerate the situation. Spontaneous activities can converge on a day when for whatever reason the migraine-prone child is overtired and the headache and vomiting will erupt.
A lifestyle change is always preferable to a pharmacological intervention. However, that doesn’t mean it is always easy to achieve.
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.
I suspect you all have some experience with childhood migraine. It can mean a painful several hours for the patient, arriving often without warning, with recurrences spaced months or sometimes even years apart. It may be accompanied by vomiting, which in some cases overshadows the severity of the headache. It can result in lost days from school and ruin family activities. It can occur so infrequently that the family can’t recall accurately when the last episode happened. In some ways it is a different animal than the adult version.
Most of the pediatric patients with migraine I have seen have experienced attacks that were occurring so infrequently that the families and I seldom discussed medication as an option. Back then imipramine was the only choice. However, currently there are more than a half dozen medications and combinations that have been tried. Recently a review of 45 clinical trials of these medications was published in JAMA Network Open.
I will let you review for yourself the details of these Iranian investigators’ network meta-analysis, but the bottom line is that some medications were associated with a reduction in migraine frequency. Others were associated with headache intensity. “However, no treatments were associated with significant improvements in quality of life or reduction of the duration of migraine attacks.”
Obviously, this paper illustrates clearly that we have not yet discovered the medicinal magic bullet for pediatric migraine prophylaxis. This doesn’t surprise me. After listening to scores of families tell their migraine stories, it became apparent to me that there was often a pattern in which the child’s headache had arrived after a period of acute sleep deprivation. For example, a trip to an amusement park in which travel or excitement may have resulted in the child going to bed later and/or getting up earlier. By afternoon the child’s reserves of something (currently unknown) were depleted to a point that the headache and/or vomiting struck.
Because these episodes were often so infrequent, separated by months, that taking a history demonstrating a recurring pattern could take considerable patience on the part of the family and the provider, even for a physician like myself who believes that better sleep is the answer for everything. However, once I could convince a family of the connection between the sleep deprivation and the headaches, they could often recall other episodes in the past that substantiated my explanation.
In some cases there was no obvious history of acute sleep deprivation, or at least it was so subtle that even a history taker with a sleep obsession couldn’t detect it. However, in these cases I could usually elicit a history of chronic sleep deprivation. For example, falling asleep instantly on automobile rides, difficulty with waking in the morning, or unhealthy bedtime routines. With this underlying vulnerability of chronic sleep deprivation, a slightly more exciting or vigorous day was all that was necessary to trigger the headache.
For those of you who don’t share my contention that childhood migraine is usually the result of sleep deprivation, consider the similarity between an epileptic seizure, which can be triggered by fatigue. Both events are usually followed by a deep sleep from which the child wakes refreshed and symptom free.
I think it is interesting that this recent meta-analysis could find no benefit in the quality of life for any of the medications. The explanation may be that the child with migraine already had a somewhat diminished quality of life as a result of the sleep deprivation, either acute or chronic.
When speaking with parents of migraine sufferers, I would tell them that once the headache had started there was little I had to offer to forestall the inevitable pain and vomiting. Certainly not in the form of an oral medication. While many adults will have an aura that warns them of the headache onset, I have found that most children don’t describe an aura. It may be they simply lack the ability to express it. Occasionally an observant parent may detect pallor or a behavior change that indicates a migraine is beginning. On rare occasions a parent may be able to abort the attack by quickly getting the child to a quiet, dark, and calm environment.
Although this recent meta-analysis review of treatment options is discouraging, it may be providing a clue to effective prophylaxis. Some of the medications that decrease the frequency of the attacks may be doing so because they improve the patient’s sleep patterns. Those that decrease the intensity of the pain are probably working on pain pathway that is not specific to migraine.
Continuing a search for a prophylactic medication is a worthy goal, particularly for those patients in which their migraines are debilitating. However, based on my experience, enhanced by my bias, the safest and most effective prophylaxis results from increasing the family’s awareness of the role that sleep deprivation plays in the illness. Even when the family buys into the message and attempts to avoid situations that will tax their vulnerable children, parents will need to accept that sometimes stuff happens even though siblings and peers may be able to tolerate the situation. Spontaneous activities can converge on a day when for whatever reason the migraine-prone child is overtired and the headache and vomiting will erupt.
A lifestyle change is always preferable to a pharmacological intervention. However, that doesn’t mean it is always easy to achieve.
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.
I suspect you all have some experience with childhood migraine. It can mean a painful several hours for the patient, arriving often without warning, with recurrences spaced months or sometimes even years apart. It may be accompanied by vomiting, which in some cases overshadows the severity of the headache. It can result in lost days from school and ruin family activities. It can occur so infrequently that the family can’t recall accurately when the last episode happened. In some ways it is a different animal than the adult version.
Most of the pediatric patients with migraine I have seen have experienced attacks that were occurring so infrequently that the families and I seldom discussed medication as an option. Back then imipramine was the only choice. However, currently there are more than a half dozen medications and combinations that have been tried. Recently a review of 45 clinical trials of these medications was published in JAMA Network Open.
I will let you review for yourself the details of these Iranian investigators’ network meta-analysis, but the bottom line is that some medications were associated with a reduction in migraine frequency. Others were associated with headache intensity. “However, no treatments were associated with significant improvements in quality of life or reduction of the duration of migraine attacks.”
Obviously, this paper illustrates clearly that we have not yet discovered the medicinal magic bullet for pediatric migraine prophylaxis. This doesn’t surprise me. After listening to scores of families tell their migraine stories, it became apparent to me that there was often a pattern in which the child’s headache had arrived after a period of acute sleep deprivation. For example, a trip to an amusement park in which travel or excitement may have resulted in the child going to bed later and/or getting up earlier. By afternoon the child’s reserves of something (currently unknown) were depleted to a point that the headache and/or vomiting struck.
Because these episodes were often so infrequent, separated by months, that taking a history demonstrating a recurring pattern could take considerable patience on the part of the family and the provider, even for a physician like myself who believes that better sleep is the answer for everything. However, once I could convince a family of the connection between the sleep deprivation and the headaches, they could often recall other episodes in the past that substantiated my explanation.
In some cases there was no obvious history of acute sleep deprivation, or at least it was so subtle that even a history taker with a sleep obsession couldn’t detect it. However, in these cases I could usually elicit a history of chronic sleep deprivation. For example, falling asleep instantly on automobile rides, difficulty with waking in the morning, or unhealthy bedtime routines. With this underlying vulnerability of chronic sleep deprivation, a slightly more exciting or vigorous day was all that was necessary to trigger the headache.
For those of you who don’t share my contention that childhood migraine is usually the result of sleep deprivation, consider the similarity between an epileptic seizure, which can be triggered by fatigue. Both events are usually followed by a deep sleep from which the child wakes refreshed and symptom free.
I think it is interesting that this recent meta-analysis could find no benefit in the quality of life for any of the medications. The explanation may be that the child with migraine already had a somewhat diminished quality of life as a result of the sleep deprivation, either acute or chronic.
When speaking with parents of migraine sufferers, I would tell them that once the headache had started there was little I had to offer to forestall the inevitable pain and vomiting. Certainly not in the form of an oral medication. While many adults will have an aura that warns them of the headache onset, I have found that most children don’t describe an aura. It may be they simply lack the ability to express it. Occasionally an observant parent may detect pallor or a behavior change that indicates a migraine is beginning. On rare occasions a parent may be able to abort the attack by quickly getting the child to a quiet, dark, and calm environment.
Although this recent meta-analysis review of treatment options is discouraging, it may be providing a clue to effective prophylaxis. Some of the medications that decrease the frequency of the attacks may be doing so because they improve the patient’s sleep patterns. Those that decrease the intensity of the pain are probably working on pain pathway that is not specific to migraine.
Continuing a search for a prophylactic medication is a worthy goal, particularly for those patients in which their migraines are debilitating. However, based on my experience, enhanced by my bias, the safest and most effective prophylaxis results from increasing the family’s awareness of the role that sleep deprivation plays in the illness. Even when the family buys into the message and attempts to avoid situations that will tax their vulnerable children, parents will need to accept that sometimes stuff happens even though siblings and peers may be able to tolerate the situation. Spontaneous activities can converge on a day when for whatever reason the migraine-prone child is overtired and the headache and vomiting will erupt.
A lifestyle change is always preferable to a pharmacological intervention. However, that doesn’t mean it is always easy to achieve.
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.
Nonalcoholic Beer and Underage Drinking
Several months ago in a letter about healthcare providers and the decision to use alcohol and other mind-altering substances on the job, I waxed enthusiastically about the new wave of no alcohol (NA) and zero (00) alcohol beers that have come on the market. In the last 2 years our local grocery store’s cooler space for nonalcoholic beer has grown from less than 24 inches to something approaching the height of the average sixth grader.
In a bold act of chivalry at the beginning of the pandemic I accepted the mantle of designated grocery shopper and over the last 3 years have become uncommonly proud of my ability to bring home the groceries efficiently and cost effectively, without catching COVID in the process. I have developed a sixth sense of choosing which human checker/bagger combination is fastest or whether the self-checkout is the way to go.
For obvious reasons the human checkers don’t ask for my ID when I am buying adult beverages. However, the self-check register freezes up instantly when I scan my 12-pack of Run Wild nonalcoholic. This necessitates a search for the MIA store person assigned to patrol the self-check corral, ever on the lookout for shoplifters, underage drinkers, and other generally shifty looking characters.
When I find one of the grocery store detectives (who is likely to have been a former patient), I say: “You know, this doesn’t have any alcohol in it.” They invariably reply with a shrug. “I know. But, the rules are the rules.” Occasionally, they may add: “It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
At first blush checking IDs for a nonalcoholic beverage may sound dumb, certainly to someone who is just a few years on either side of the legal drinking age. Why are we trying to protect some crazy teenager from the futility of getting high on a six-pack of something that at worst will make him spend most of the next couple of hours peeing?
But, there is concern in some corners that nonalcoholic drinks pose a significant threat to teenagers. Two PhDs at Stanford University have recently published a paper in which they worry that the dramatic rise in US sales of nonalcoholic drinks from 15% to 30% since 2018 may be socializing “users of alcohol drinking experiences by exposing them to the taste, look, and even brands of alcoholic beverages”.
Is there evidence to support their concern? I could only find one brief report in the Japanese literature that states that among young people “who experienced the nonalcoholic beverage intake, interest in or motivation for drinking alcoholic beverages, and/or smoking is higher than [among] those who did not.” The study didn’t appear to clearly separate the exposure in a family setting from the actual intake.
Beer is an acquired taste. If someone offered you your first taste of beer after a hot-weather set of tennis most of you would reject it and ask for water or lemonade. I can recall my first taste of beer. For some reason my father thought at age 11 or 12 I might like to try some from his glass. I’m not sure of his motivation, but he tried the same thing with oysters. I didn’t drink beer again until I was 16, motivated at that time by a group dynamic. The oyster trial, however, backfired on him and from then on he had to share his coveted dozen with me. Alcohol, unless heavily disguised by a mixer, is also not a taste that most young people find appealing.
It is unlikely that the average thrill-seeking teenager is going to ask his older-appearing buddy with a fake ID to buy him some nonalcoholic beer. Nor would he go to the effort or risk of acquiring his own fake ID just to see how it tastes. It just doesn’t compute, especially to a self-check corral patroller.
I guess one could envision a scenario in which a teenager wanting to fit in with the fast crowd would ask a trusted adult (or clueless parent) to buy him some nonalcoholic beer to bring to a party. He is running a serious risk of being laughed at by his friends if they find he’s drinking the fake stuff. It also seems unlikely that a parent would buy nonalcoholic beer to introduce his teenager to the taste of beer.
So,
Although it runs counter to my usual commitment to evidence-based decisions, making it difficult for adolescents to buy nonalcoholic beverages feels like the right think to do. As long as alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages share the same display space and are packaged in nearly identical containers, there is ample opportunity for confusion. Recent evidence suggesting that even small amounts of alcohol increases some health risks should strengthen our resolve to minimize that confusion.
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.
Several months ago in a letter about healthcare providers and the decision to use alcohol and other mind-altering substances on the job, I waxed enthusiastically about the new wave of no alcohol (NA) and zero (00) alcohol beers that have come on the market. In the last 2 years our local grocery store’s cooler space for nonalcoholic beer has grown from less than 24 inches to something approaching the height of the average sixth grader.
In a bold act of chivalry at the beginning of the pandemic I accepted the mantle of designated grocery shopper and over the last 3 years have become uncommonly proud of my ability to bring home the groceries efficiently and cost effectively, without catching COVID in the process. I have developed a sixth sense of choosing which human checker/bagger combination is fastest or whether the self-checkout is the way to go.
For obvious reasons the human checkers don’t ask for my ID when I am buying adult beverages. However, the self-check register freezes up instantly when I scan my 12-pack of Run Wild nonalcoholic. This necessitates a search for the MIA store person assigned to patrol the self-check corral, ever on the lookout for shoplifters, underage drinkers, and other generally shifty looking characters.
When I find one of the grocery store detectives (who is likely to have been a former patient), I say: “You know, this doesn’t have any alcohol in it.” They invariably reply with a shrug. “I know. But, the rules are the rules.” Occasionally, they may add: “It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
At first blush checking IDs for a nonalcoholic beverage may sound dumb, certainly to someone who is just a few years on either side of the legal drinking age. Why are we trying to protect some crazy teenager from the futility of getting high on a six-pack of something that at worst will make him spend most of the next couple of hours peeing?
But, there is concern in some corners that nonalcoholic drinks pose a significant threat to teenagers. Two PhDs at Stanford University have recently published a paper in which they worry that the dramatic rise in US sales of nonalcoholic drinks from 15% to 30% since 2018 may be socializing “users of alcohol drinking experiences by exposing them to the taste, look, and even brands of alcoholic beverages”.
Is there evidence to support their concern? I could only find one brief report in the Japanese literature that states that among young people “who experienced the nonalcoholic beverage intake, interest in or motivation for drinking alcoholic beverages, and/or smoking is higher than [among] those who did not.” The study didn’t appear to clearly separate the exposure in a family setting from the actual intake.
Beer is an acquired taste. If someone offered you your first taste of beer after a hot-weather set of tennis most of you would reject it and ask for water or lemonade. I can recall my first taste of beer. For some reason my father thought at age 11 or 12 I might like to try some from his glass. I’m not sure of his motivation, but he tried the same thing with oysters. I didn’t drink beer again until I was 16, motivated at that time by a group dynamic. The oyster trial, however, backfired on him and from then on he had to share his coveted dozen with me. Alcohol, unless heavily disguised by a mixer, is also not a taste that most young people find appealing.
It is unlikely that the average thrill-seeking teenager is going to ask his older-appearing buddy with a fake ID to buy him some nonalcoholic beer. Nor would he go to the effort or risk of acquiring his own fake ID just to see how it tastes. It just doesn’t compute, especially to a self-check corral patroller.
I guess one could envision a scenario in which a teenager wanting to fit in with the fast crowd would ask a trusted adult (or clueless parent) to buy him some nonalcoholic beer to bring to a party. He is running a serious risk of being laughed at by his friends if they find he’s drinking the fake stuff. It also seems unlikely that a parent would buy nonalcoholic beer to introduce his teenager to the taste of beer.
So,
Although it runs counter to my usual commitment to evidence-based decisions, making it difficult for adolescents to buy nonalcoholic beverages feels like the right think to do. As long as alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages share the same display space and are packaged in nearly identical containers, there is ample opportunity for confusion. Recent evidence suggesting that even small amounts of alcohol increases some health risks should strengthen our resolve to minimize that confusion.
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.
Several months ago in a letter about healthcare providers and the decision to use alcohol and other mind-altering substances on the job, I waxed enthusiastically about the new wave of no alcohol (NA) and zero (00) alcohol beers that have come on the market. In the last 2 years our local grocery store’s cooler space for nonalcoholic beer has grown from less than 24 inches to something approaching the height of the average sixth grader.
In a bold act of chivalry at the beginning of the pandemic I accepted the mantle of designated grocery shopper and over the last 3 years have become uncommonly proud of my ability to bring home the groceries efficiently and cost effectively, without catching COVID in the process. I have developed a sixth sense of choosing which human checker/bagger combination is fastest or whether the self-checkout is the way to go.
For obvious reasons the human checkers don’t ask for my ID when I am buying adult beverages. However, the self-check register freezes up instantly when I scan my 12-pack of Run Wild nonalcoholic. This necessitates a search for the MIA store person assigned to patrol the self-check corral, ever on the lookout for shoplifters, underage drinkers, and other generally shifty looking characters.
When I find one of the grocery store detectives (who is likely to have been a former patient), I say: “You know, this doesn’t have any alcohol in it.” They invariably reply with a shrug. “I know. But, the rules are the rules.” Occasionally, they may add: “It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
At first blush checking IDs for a nonalcoholic beverage may sound dumb, certainly to someone who is just a few years on either side of the legal drinking age. Why are we trying to protect some crazy teenager from the futility of getting high on a six-pack of something that at worst will make him spend most of the next couple of hours peeing?
But, there is concern in some corners that nonalcoholic drinks pose a significant threat to teenagers. Two PhDs at Stanford University have recently published a paper in which they worry that the dramatic rise in US sales of nonalcoholic drinks from 15% to 30% since 2018 may be socializing “users of alcohol drinking experiences by exposing them to the taste, look, and even brands of alcoholic beverages”.
Is there evidence to support their concern? I could only find one brief report in the Japanese literature that states that among young people “who experienced the nonalcoholic beverage intake, interest in or motivation for drinking alcoholic beverages, and/or smoking is higher than [among] those who did not.” The study didn’t appear to clearly separate the exposure in a family setting from the actual intake.
Beer is an acquired taste. If someone offered you your first taste of beer after a hot-weather set of tennis most of you would reject it and ask for water or lemonade. I can recall my first taste of beer. For some reason my father thought at age 11 or 12 I might like to try some from his glass. I’m not sure of his motivation, but he tried the same thing with oysters. I didn’t drink beer again until I was 16, motivated at that time by a group dynamic. The oyster trial, however, backfired on him and from then on he had to share his coveted dozen with me. Alcohol, unless heavily disguised by a mixer, is also not a taste that most young people find appealing.
It is unlikely that the average thrill-seeking teenager is going to ask his older-appearing buddy with a fake ID to buy him some nonalcoholic beer. Nor would he go to the effort or risk of acquiring his own fake ID just to see how it tastes. It just doesn’t compute, especially to a self-check corral patroller.
I guess one could envision a scenario in which a teenager wanting to fit in with the fast crowd would ask a trusted adult (or clueless parent) to buy him some nonalcoholic beer to bring to a party. He is running a serious risk of being laughed at by his friends if they find he’s drinking the fake stuff. It also seems unlikely that a parent would buy nonalcoholic beer to introduce his teenager to the taste of beer.
So,
Although it runs counter to my usual commitment to evidence-based decisions, making it difficult for adolescents to buy nonalcoholic beverages feels like the right think to do. As long as alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages share the same display space and are packaged in nearly identical containers, there is ample opportunity for confusion. Recent evidence suggesting that even small amounts of alcohol increases some health risks should strengthen our resolve to minimize that confusion.
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 Patient Encounter Is Changing
Over the last few decades the patient encounter has changed dramatically. Most recently fueled by the COVID pandemic, face-to-face events between patients and providers have become less frequent. The shift began years before with the slow acceptance of telemedicine by third-party payers.
, often leaving both providers and patients with more questions than answers. Even more recently, the explosive arrival of generative artificial intelligence (AI) has promised, some might say threatened, to add a whole new complexity and uncertainty to patient encounters regardless of the venue or platform.
Still, among the growing collection of options, I think it is fair to say that a live face-to-face encounter remains the gold standard in the opinions of both patients and providers. Patients may have become increasingly critical and vocal when they feel their provider appears rushed or is over focused on the desktop computer screen. However, given all of the options, I suspect that for the moment patients feel a face-to-face meeting continues to offer them the best chance of being heard and their concerns answered.
Even when the image on the video screen is sharp and the intelligibility of the audio feed is crystal clear, I bet most providers feel they can learn more about the patient during a live face-to-face encounter than a Zoom-style encounter.
Nonetheless, there are hints that face-to-face visits maybe losing their place in the pantheon of patient-provider encounters. A recent study from England found that there were a significant number of patients who were more forthcoming in reporting their preferences for social care-related quality of life when they were surveyed by internet rather than face-to-face. It is unclear what was behind this observation, however it may be that patients were embarrassed and viewed these questions about their social neediness as too sensitive to share face-to-face.
There is ample evidence of situations in which the internet can provide a level of anonymity that emboldens the user to say things that are cruel and hurtful, using words they might be afraid to voice in a live setting. This license to act in an uncivil manner is behind much of the harm generated by chat rooms and other social media sites. While in these cases the ability to hide behind the video screen is a negative, this study from England suggests that we should be looking for more opportunities to use this emboldening feature with certain individuals and populations who may be intimidated during a face-to-face encounter. It is likely a hybrid approach may be the most beneficial strategy tailored to the individual patient.
One advantage of a face-to-face visit is that each participant can read the body language of the other. This, of course, can be a disadvantage for the provider who has failed to master the art of disguising his “I’m running behind” stress level, when he should be replacing it with an “I’m ready to listen” posture.
Portals have opened up a whole other can of worms, particularly when the provider has failed to clearly delineate what sort of questions are appropriate for an online forum, not informed the patient who will be providing the answer, and a rough idea of when this will happen. It may take several trips up the learning curve for patients and providers to develop a style of writing that make optimal use of the portal format and make it fit the needs of the practice and the patients.
Regardless of what kind of visit platform we are talking about, a lot hinges on the providers choice of words. I recently reviewed some of the work of Jeffrey D. Robinson, PhD, a professor of communication at the Portland State University, Portland, Oregon. He offers the example of the difference between “some” and “any.” When the patient was asked “Is there something else you would like to address today” almost 80% of the patient’s unmet questions were addressed. However, when the question was “Is there anything else ...” very few of the patient’s unmet questions were addressed. Dr. Robinson has also found that when the question is posed early in the visit rather than at the end, it improves the chances of having the patient’s unmet concerns addressed.
I suspect that the face-to-face patient encounter will survive, but it will continue to lose its market share as other platforms emerge. We can be sure there will be change. We need look no further than generative AI to look for the next step. A well-crafted question could help the patient and the provider choose the most appropriate patient encounter format given the patient’s demographic, chief complaint, and prior history, and match this with the provider’s background and strengths.
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.
Over the last few decades the patient encounter has changed dramatically. Most recently fueled by the COVID pandemic, face-to-face events between patients and providers have become less frequent. The shift began years before with the slow acceptance of telemedicine by third-party payers.
, often leaving both providers and patients with more questions than answers. Even more recently, the explosive arrival of generative artificial intelligence (AI) has promised, some might say threatened, to add a whole new complexity and uncertainty to patient encounters regardless of the venue or platform.
Still, among the growing collection of options, I think it is fair to say that a live face-to-face encounter remains the gold standard in the opinions of both patients and providers. Patients may have become increasingly critical and vocal when they feel their provider appears rushed or is over focused on the desktop computer screen. However, given all of the options, I suspect that for the moment patients feel a face-to-face meeting continues to offer them the best chance of being heard and their concerns answered.
Even when the image on the video screen is sharp and the intelligibility of the audio feed is crystal clear, I bet most providers feel they can learn more about the patient during a live face-to-face encounter than a Zoom-style encounter.
Nonetheless, there are hints that face-to-face visits maybe losing their place in the pantheon of patient-provider encounters. A recent study from England found that there were a significant number of patients who were more forthcoming in reporting their preferences for social care-related quality of life when they were surveyed by internet rather than face-to-face. It is unclear what was behind this observation, however it may be that patients were embarrassed and viewed these questions about their social neediness as too sensitive to share face-to-face.
There is ample evidence of situations in which the internet can provide a level of anonymity that emboldens the user to say things that are cruel and hurtful, using words they might be afraid to voice in a live setting. This license to act in an uncivil manner is behind much of the harm generated by chat rooms and other social media sites. While in these cases the ability to hide behind the video screen is a negative, this study from England suggests that we should be looking for more opportunities to use this emboldening feature with certain individuals and populations who may be intimidated during a face-to-face encounter. It is likely a hybrid approach may be the most beneficial strategy tailored to the individual patient.
One advantage of a face-to-face visit is that each participant can read the body language of the other. This, of course, can be a disadvantage for the provider who has failed to master the art of disguising his “I’m running behind” stress level, when he should be replacing it with an “I’m ready to listen” posture.
Portals have opened up a whole other can of worms, particularly when the provider has failed to clearly delineate what sort of questions are appropriate for an online forum, not informed the patient who will be providing the answer, and a rough idea of when this will happen. It may take several trips up the learning curve for patients and providers to develop a style of writing that make optimal use of the portal format and make it fit the needs of the practice and the patients.
Regardless of what kind of visit platform we are talking about, a lot hinges on the providers choice of words. I recently reviewed some of the work of Jeffrey D. Robinson, PhD, a professor of communication at the Portland State University, Portland, Oregon. He offers the example of the difference between “some” and “any.” When the patient was asked “Is there something else you would like to address today” almost 80% of the patient’s unmet questions were addressed. However, when the question was “Is there anything else ...” very few of the patient’s unmet questions were addressed. Dr. Robinson has also found that when the question is posed early in the visit rather than at the end, it improves the chances of having the patient’s unmet concerns addressed.
I suspect that the face-to-face patient encounter will survive, but it will continue to lose its market share as other platforms emerge. We can be sure there will be change. We need look no further than generative AI to look for the next step. A well-crafted question could help the patient and the provider choose the most appropriate patient encounter format given the patient’s demographic, chief complaint, and prior history, and match this with the provider’s background and strengths.
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.
Over the last few decades the patient encounter has changed dramatically. Most recently fueled by the COVID pandemic, face-to-face events between patients and providers have become less frequent. The shift began years before with the slow acceptance of telemedicine by third-party payers.
, often leaving both providers and patients with more questions than answers. Even more recently, the explosive arrival of generative artificial intelligence (AI) has promised, some might say threatened, to add a whole new complexity and uncertainty to patient encounters regardless of the venue or platform.
Still, among the growing collection of options, I think it is fair to say that a live face-to-face encounter remains the gold standard in the opinions of both patients and providers. Patients may have become increasingly critical and vocal when they feel their provider appears rushed or is over focused on the desktop computer screen. However, given all of the options, I suspect that for the moment patients feel a face-to-face meeting continues to offer them the best chance of being heard and their concerns answered.
Even when the image on the video screen is sharp and the intelligibility of the audio feed is crystal clear, I bet most providers feel they can learn more about the patient during a live face-to-face encounter than a Zoom-style encounter.
Nonetheless, there are hints that face-to-face visits maybe losing their place in the pantheon of patient-provider encounters. A recent study from England found that there were a significant number of patients who were more forthcoming in reporting their preferences for social care-related quality of life when they were surveyed by internet rather than face-to-face. It is unclear what was behind this observation, however it may be that patients were embarrassed and viewed these questions about their social neediness as too sensitive to share face-to-face.
There is ample evidence of situations in which the internet can provide a level of anonymity that emboldens the user to say things that are cruel and hurtful, using words they might be afraid to voice in a live setting. This license to act in an uncivil manner is behind much of the harm generated by chat rooms and other social media sites. While in these cases the ability to hide behind the video screen is a negative, this study from England suggests that we should be looking for more opportunities to use this emboldening feature with certain individuals and populations who may be intimidated during a face-to-face encounter. It is likely a hybrid approach may be the most beneficial strategy tailored to the individual patient.
One advantage of a face-to-face visit is that each participant can read the body language of the other. This, of course, can be a disadvantage for the provider who has failed to master the art of disguising his “I’m running behind” stress level, when he should be replacing it with an “I’m ready to listen” posture.
Portals have opened up a whole other can of worms, particularly when the provider has failed to clearly delineate what sort of questions are appropriate for an online forum, not informed the patient who will be providing the answer, and a rough idea of when this will happen. It may take several trips up the learning curve for patients and providers to develop a style of writing that make optimal use of the portal format and make it fit the needs of the practice and the patients.
Regardless of what kind of visit platform we are talking about, a lot hinges on the providers choice of words. I recently reviewed some of the work of Jeffrey D. Robinson, PhD, a professor of communication at the Portland State University, Portland, Oregon. He offers the example of the difference between “some” and “any.” When the patient was asked “Is there something else you would like to address today” almost 80% of the patient’s unmet questions were addressed. However, when the question was “Is there anything else ...” very few of the patient’s unmet questions were addressed. Dr. Robinson has also found that when the question is posed early in the visit rather than at the end, it improves the chances of having the patient’s unmet concerns addressed.
I suspect that the face-to-face patient encounter will survive, but it will continue to lose its market share as other platforms emerge. We can be sure there will be change. We need look no further than generative AI to look for the next step. A well-crafted question could help the patient and the provider choose the most appropriate patient encounter format given the patient’s demographic, chief complaint, and prior history, and match this with the provider’s background and strengths.
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.
Burnout and Vacations
How many weeks of vacation do you take each year? Does it feel like enough? What prevents you from taking more time off? Is it a contractual obligation to your employer? Or a concern about the lack of income while your are away? Is it the difficulty of finding coverage for your patient care responsibilities? How much of it is the dread of facing your unattended or poorly attended EHR box when you return?
A recent survey of more than 3000 US physicians found that almost 60% took 3 weeks or less vacation per year? The investigators also learned that 70% of the respondents did patient-related tasks while they were on vacation and less than half had full EHR coverage while they were away. Not surprisingly, providers who expressed concerns about finding someone to cover clinical responsibilities and financial concerns were less likely to take more than 3 weeks’ vacation.
As one might hope, taking more than 3 weeks’ vacation and having full EHR coverage were associated with decreased rates of burnout. On the other hand, spending more than 30 minutes per day doing patient-related work while on vacation was associated with higher rates of burnout.
In their conclusion, the authors suggest that if we hope to reduce physician burnout, employers should introduce system-level initiatives to ensure that physicians take adequate vacation and have adequate coverage for their clinical responsibilities — including EHR inbox management.
I will readily admit that I was one of those physicians who took less than 3 weeks of vacation and can’t recall ever taking more than 2 weeks. Since most of our vacations were staycations, I would usually round on the newborns first thing in the morning when I was in town to keep the flow of new patients coming into the practice.
I’m sure there was some collateral damage to my family, but our children continue to reassure me that they weren’t envious of their peers who went away on “real” vacations. As adults two of them take their families on the kind of vacations that make me envious. The third has married someone who shares, what I might call, a “robust commitment” to showing up in the office. But they seem to be a happy couple.
At the root of my vacation style was an egotistical delusion that there weren’t any clinicians in the community who could look after my patients as well as I did. Unfortunately, I had done little to discourage those patients who shared my distorted view.
I was lucky to have spent nearly all my career without the added burden of an EHR inbox. However, in the lead up to our infrequent vacations, the rush to tie up the loose ends of those patients for whom we had not achieved diagnostic closure was stressful and time consuming. Luckily, as a primary care pediatrician most of their problems were short lived. But, leaving the ship battened down could be exhausting.
I can fully understand why the physicians who are taking less than 3 weeks’ vacation and continue to be burdened by patient-related tasks while they are “away” are more likely to experience burnout. However, I wonder why I seemed to have been resistant considering my vacation style, which the authors of the above-mentioned article feel would have placed me at high risk.
I think the answer may lie in my commitment to making decisions that allowed me to maintain equilibrium in my life. In other words, if there were things in my day-to-day activities that were so taxing or distasteful that I am counting the hours and days until I can escape them, then I needed to make the necessary changes promptly and not count on a vacation to repair the accumulating damage. That may have required cutting back some responsibilities or it may have meant that I needed to be in better mental and physical shape to be able to maintain that equilibrium. Maybe it was more sleep, more exercise, less television, not investing as much in time-wasting meetings. This doesn’t mean that I didn’t have bad days. Stuff happens. But if I was putting together two or three bad days a week, something had to change. A vacation wasn’t going solve the inherent or systemic problems that are making day-to-day life so intolerable that I needed to escape for some respite.
In full disclosure, I will share that at age 55 I took a leave of 2 1/2 months and with my wife and another couple bicycled across America. This was a goal I had harbored since childhood and in anticipation over several decades had banked considerable coverage equity by doing extra coverage for other providers to minimize my guilt feelings at being away. This was not an escape from I job I didn’t enjoy going to everyday. It was an exercise in goal fulfillment.
I think the authors of this recent study should be applauded for providing some numbers to support the obvious. However,
Encouraging a clinician to take a bit more vacation may help. But, having someone to properly manage the EHR inbox would do a lot more. If your coverage is telling everyone to “Wait until Dr. Away has returned” it is only going to make things worse.
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.
How many weeks of vacation do you take each year? Does it feel like enough? What prevents you from taking more time off? Is it a contractual obligation to your employer? Or a concern about the lack of income while your are away? Is it the difficulty of finding coverage for your patient care responsibilities? How much of it is the dread of facing your unattended or poorly attended EHR box when you return?
A recent survey of more than 3000 US physicians found that almost 60% took 3 weeks or less vacation per year? The investigators also learned that 70% of the respondents did patient-related tasks while they were on vacation and less than half had full EHR coverage while they were away. Not surprisingly, providers who expressed concerns about finding someone to cover clinical responsibilities and financial concerns were less likely to take more than 3 weeks’ vacation.
As one might hope, taking more than 3 weeks’ vacation and having full EHR coverage were associated with decreased rates of burnout. On the other hand, spending more than 30 minutes per day doing patient-related work while on vacation was associated with higher rates of burnout.
In their conclusion, the authors suggest that if we hope to reduce physician burnout, employers should introduce system-level initiatives to ensure that physicians take adequate vacation and have adequate coverage for their clinical responsibilities — including EHR inbox management.
I will readily admit that I was one of those physicians who took less than 3 weeks of vacation and can’t recall ever taking more than 2 weeks. Since most of our vacations were staycations, I would usually round on the newborns first thing in the morning when I was in town to keep the flow of new patients coming into the practice.
I’m sure there was some collateral damage to my family, but our children continue to reassure me that they weren’t envious of their peers who went away on “real” vacations. As adults two of them take their families on the kind of vacations that make me envious. The third has married someone who shares, what I might call, a “robust commitment” to showing up in the office. But they seem to be a happy couple.
At the root of my vacation style was an egotistical delusion that there weren’t any clinicians in the community who could look after my patients as well as I did. Unfortunately, I had done little to discourage those patients who shared my distorted view.
I was lucky to have spent nearly all my career without the added burden of an EHR inbox. However, in the lead up to our infrequent vacations, the rush to tie up the loose ends of those patients for whom we had not achieved diagnostic closure was stressful and time consuming. Luckily, as a primary care pediatrician most of their problems were short lived. But, leaving the ship battened down could be exhausting.
I can fully understand why the physicians who are taking less than 3 weeks’ vacation and continue to be burdened by patient-related tasks while they are “away” are more likely to experience burnout. However, I wonder why I seemed to have been resistant considering my vacation style, which the authors of the above-mentioned article feel would have placed me at high risk.
I think the answer may lie in my commitment to making decisions that allowed me to maintain equilibrium in my life. In other words, if there were things in my day-to-day activities that were so taxing or distasteful that I am counting the hours and days until I can escape them, then I needed to make the necessary changes promptly and not count on a vacation to repair the accumulating damage. That may have required cutting back some responsibilities or it may have meant that I needed to be in better mental and physical shape to be able to maintain that equilibrium. Maybe it was more sleep, more exercise, less television, not investing as much in time-wasting meetings. This doesn’t mean that I didn’t have bad days. Stuff happens. But if I was putting together two or three bad days a week, something had to change. A vacation wasn’t going solve the inherent or systemic problems that are making day-to-day life so intolerable that I needed to escape for some respite.
In full disclosure, I will share that at age 55 I took a leave of 2 1/2 months and with my wife and another couple bicycled across America. This was a goal I had harbored since childhood and in anticipation over several decades had banked considerable coverage equity by doing extra coverage for other providers to minimize my guilt feelings at being away. This was not an escape from I job I didn’t enjoy going to everyday. It was an exercise in goal fulfillment.
I think the authors of this recent study should be applauded for providing some numbers to support the obvious. However,
Encouraging a clinician to take a bit more vacation may help. But, having someone to properly manage the EHR inbox would do a lot more. If your coverage is telling everyone to “Wait until Dr. Away has returned” it is only going to make things worse.
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.
How many weeks of vacation do you take each year? Does it feel like enough? What prevents you from taking more time off? Is it a contractual obligation to your employer? Or a concern about the lack of income while your are away? Is it the difficulty of finding coverage for your patient care responsibilities? How much of it is the dread of facing your unattended or poorly attended EHR box when you return?
A recent survey of more than 3000 US physicians found that almost 60% took 3 weeks or less vacation per year? The investigators also learned that 70% of the respondents did patient-related tasks while they were on vacation and less than half had full EHR coverage while they were away. Not surprisingly, providers who expressed concerns about finding someone to cover clinical responsibilities and financial concerns were less likely to take more than 3 weeks’ vacation.
As one might hope, taking more than 3 weeks’ vacation and having full EHR coverage were associated with decreased rates of burnout. On the other hand, spending more than 30 minutes per day doing patient-related work while on vacation was associated with higher rates of burnout.
In their conclusion, the authors suggest that if we hope to reduce physician burnout, employers should introduce system-level initiatives to ensure that physicians take adequate vacation and have adequate coverage for their clinical responsibilities — including EHR inbox management.
I will readily admit that I was one of those physicians who took less than 3 weeks of vacation and can’t recall ever taking more than 2 weeks. Since most of our vacations were staycations, I would usually round on the newborns first thing in the morning when I was in town to keep the flow of new patients coming into the practice.
I’m sure there was some collateral damage to my family, but our children continue to reassure me that they weren’t envious of their peers who went away on “real” vacations. As adults two of them take their families on the kind of vacations that make me envious. The third has married someone who shares, what I might call, a “robust commitment” to showing up in the office. But they seem to be a happy couple.
At the root of my vacation style was an egotistical delusion that there weren’t any clinicians in the community who could look after my patients as well as I did. Unfortunately, I had done little to discourage those patients who shared my distorted view.
I was lucky to have spent nearly all my career without the added burden of an EHR inbox. However, in the lead up to our infrequent vacations, the rush to tie up the loose ends of those patients for whom we had not achieved diagnostic closure was stressful and time consuming. Luckily, as a primary care pediatrician most of their problems were short lived. But, leaving the ship battened down could be exhausting.
I can fully understand why the physicians who are taking less than 3 weeks’ vacation and continue to be burdened by patient-related tasks while they are “away” are more likely to experience burnout. However, I wonder why I seemed to have been resistant considering my vacation style, which the authors of the above-mentioned article feel would have placed me at high risk.
I think the answer may lie in my commitment to making decisions that allowed me to maintain equilibrium in my life. In other words, if there were things in my day-to-day activities that were so taxing or distasteful that I am counting the hours and days until I can escape them, then I needed to make the necessary changes promptly and not count on a vacation to repair the accumulating damage. That may have required cutting back some responsibilities or it may have meant that I needed to be in better mental and physical shape to be able to maintain that equilibrium. Maybe it was more sleep, more exercise, less television, not investing as much in time-wasting meetings. This doesn’t mean that I didn’t have bad days. Stuff happens. But if I was putting together two or three bad days a week, something had to change. A vacation wasn’t going solve the inherent or systemic problems that are making day-to-day life so intolerable that I needed to escape for some respite.
In full disclosure, I will share that at age 55 I took a leave of 2 1/2 months and with my wife and another couple bicycled across America. This was a goal I had harbored since childhood and in anticipation over several decades had banked considerable coverage equity by doing extra coverage for other providers to minimize my guilt feelings at being away. This was not an escape from I job I didn’t enjoy going to everyday. It was an exercise in goal fulfillment.
I think the authors of this recent study should be applauded for providing some numbers to support the obvious. However,
Encouraging a clinician to take a bit more vacation may help. But, having someone to properly manage the EHR inbox would do a lot more. If your coverage is telling everyone to “Wait until Dr. Away has returned” it is only going to make things worse.
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.