Letters from Maine

A few months ago, after several months of considerable foot dragging, I wrote that I have accepted the American Academy of Pediatrics’ proclamation that we should begin to treat obesity as a disease.

While it may feel like we are just throwing in the towel, it sounds better if we admit that we may have reached the threshold beyond which total focus on prevention is not going to work.

I continue to be troubled by the lingering fear that, in declaring that obesity is a disease, we will suspend our current efforts at preventing the condition. Granted, most of these efforts at prevention have been woefully ineffective. However, I still believe that, much like ADHD, the rise in obesity in this country is a reflection of some serious flaws in our society. On the other hand, as an inveterate optimist I have not given up on the belief that we will find some yet-to-be-discovered changes in our societal fabric that will eventually turn the ship around.

With this somewhat contradictory combination of resignation and optimism in mind, I continue to seek out studies that hold some promise for prevention while we begin tinkering with the let’s-treat-it-like-a-disease approach.

I recently discovered a story about one such study from the Center for Economic and Social Research at the University of Southern California. Using data collected about adolescent dependents of military personnel, the researchers found that “exposure to a more advantageous built environment for more than 2 years was associated with lower probabilities of obesity.” Because more than half of these teenagers were living in housing that had been assigned by the military, the researchers could more easily control for a variety of factors some related to self-selection.

Interestingly, the data did not support associations between the adolescents’ diet, physical activity, or socioeconomic environments. The investigators noted that “more advantageous built environments were associated with lower consumption of unhealthy foods.” However, the study lacked the granularity to determine what segments of the built environment were most associated with the effect they were observing.

Like me, you may not be familiar with the term “built environment.” Turns out it is just exactly what we might expect – anything about the environment that is the result of human action – buildings, roadways, dams, neighborhoods – and what they do and don’t contain. For example, is the adolescent living in an environment that encourages walking or one that is overly motor vehicle–centric? Does his or her neighborhood have easily reachable grocery stores that offer a range of healthy foods or does the teenager live in a nutritional desert populated only by convenience stores? Is there ample space for outdoor physical activity?

The authors’ observation that the adolescents who benefited from living in advantageous environments had a lower consumption of unhealthy foods might suggest that access to a healthy diet might be a significant factor. For me, the take-home message is that in our search for preventive strategies we have barely scratched the surface. The observation that the associations these researchers were making was over a relatively short time span of 2 years should give us hope that if we think more broadly and creatively we may be to find solutions on a grand scale.

Over the last century we have built an environment that is clearly obesogenic. This paper offers a starting point from which we can learn which components of that environment are the most potent contributors to the obesity epidemic. Once we have that information the question remains: Can we find the political will to tear down and rebuilt?

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.

A few months ago, after several months of considerable foot dragging, I wrote that I have accepted the American Academy of Pediatrics’ proclamation that we should begin to treat obesity as a disease.

While it may feel like we are just throwing in the towel, it sounds better if we admit that we may have reached the threshold beyond which total focus on prevention is not going to work.

I continue to be troubled by the lingering fear that, in declaring that obesity is a disease, we will suspend our current efforts at preventing the condition. Granted, most of these efforts at prevention have been woefully ineffective. However, I still believe that, much like ADHD, the rise in obesity in this country is a reflection of some serious flaws in our society. On the other hand, as an inveterate optimist I have not given up on the belief that we will find some yet-to-be-discovered changes in our societal fabric that will eventually turn the ship around.

With this somewhat contradictory combination of resignation and optimism in mind, I continue to seek out studies that hold some promise for prevention while we begin tinkering with the let’s-treat-it-like-a-disease approach.

I recently discovered a story about one such study from the Center for Economic and Social Research at the University of Southern California. Using data collected about adolescent dependents of military personnel, the researchers found that “exposure to a more advantageous built environment for more than 2 years was associated with lower probabilities of obesity.” Because more than half of these teenagers were living in housing that had been assigned by the military, the researchers could more easily control for a variety of factors some related to self-selection.

Interestingly, the data did not support associations between the adolescents’ diet, physical activity, or socioeconomic environments. The investigators noted that “more advantageous built environments were associated with lower consumption of unhealthy foods.” However, the study lacked the granularity to determine what segments of the built environment were most associated with the effect they were observing.

Like me, you may not be familiar with the term “built environment.” Turns out it is just exactly what we might expect – anything about the environment that is the result of human action – buildings, roadways, dams, neighborhoods – and what they do and don’t contain. For example, is the adolescent living in an environment that encourages walking or one that is overly motor vehicle–centric? Does his or her neighborhood have easily reachable grocery stores that offer a range of healthy foods or does the teenager live in a nutritional desert populated only by convenience stores? Is there ample space for outdoor physical activity?

The authors’ observation that the adolescents who benefited from living in advantageous environments had a lower consumption of unhealthy foods might suggest that access to a healthy diet might be a significant factor. For me, the take-home message is that in our search for preventive strategies we have barely scratched the surface. The observation that the associations these researchers were making was over a relatively short time span of 2 years should give us hope that if we think more broadly and creatively we may be to find solutions on a grand scale.

Over the last century we have built an environment that is clearly obesogenic. This paper offers a starting point from which we can learn which components of that environment are the most potent contributors to the obesity epidemic. Once we have that information the question remains: Can we find the political will to tear down and rebuilt?

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.

A few months ago, after several months of considerable foot dragging, I wrote that I have accepted the American Academy of Pediatrics’ proclamation that we should begin to treat obesity as a disease.

While it may feel like we are just throwing in the towel, it sounds better if we admit that we may have reached the threshold beyond which total focus on prevention is not going to work.

I continue to be troubled by the lingering fear that, in declaring that obesity is a disease, we will suspend our current efforts at preventing the condition. Granted, most of these efforts at prevention have been woefully ineffective. However, I still believe that, much like ADHD, the rise in obesity in this country is a reflection of some serious flaws in our society. On the other hand, as an inveterate optimist I have not given up on the belief that we will find some yet-to-be-discovered changes in our societal fabric that will eventually turn the ship around.

With this somewhat contradictory combination of resignation and optimism in mind, I continue to seek out studies that hold some promise for prevention while we begin tinkering with the let’s-treat-it-like-a-disease approach.

I recently discovered a story about one such study from the Center for Economic and Social Research at the University of Southern California. Using data collected about adolescent dependents of military personnel, the researchers found that “exposure to a more advantageous built environment for more than 2 years was associated with lower probabilities of obesity.” Because more than half of these teenagers were living in housing that had been assigned by the military, the researchers could more easily control for a variety of factors some related to self-selection.

Interestingly, the data did not support associations between the adolescents’ diet, physical activity, or socioeconomic environments. The investigators noted that “more advantageous built environments were associated with lower consumption of unhealthy foods.” However, the study lacked the granularity to determine what segments of the built environment were most associated with the effect they were observing.

Like me, you may not be familiar with the term “built environment.” Turns out it is just exactly what we might expect – anything about the environment that is the result of human action – buildings, roadways, dams, neighborhoods – and what they do and don’t contain. For example, is the adolescent living in an environment that encourages walking or one that is overly motor vehicle–centric? Does his or her neighborhood have easily reachable grocery stores that offer a range of healthy foods or does the teenager live in a nutritional desert populated only by convenience stores? Is there ample space for outdoor physical activity?

The authors’ observation that the adolescents who benefited from living in advantageous environments had a lower consumption of unhealthy foods might suggest that access to a healthy diet might be a significant factor. For me, the take-home message is that in our search for preventive strategies we have barely scratched the surface. The observation that the associations these researchers were making was over a relatively short time span of 2 years should give us hope that if we think more broadly and creatively we may be to find solutions on a grand scale.

Over the last century we have built an environment that is clearly obesogenic. This paper offers a starting point from which we can learn which components of that environment are the most potent contributors to the obesity epidemic. Once we have that information the question remains: Can we find the political will to tear down and rebuilt?

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.

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled across a report of a Pew Research Center’s survey titled “Parenting in America today” (Pew Research Center. Jan. 24, 2023), which found that 40% of parents in the United States with children younger than 18 are “extremely or very worried” that at some point their children might struggle with anxiety or depression. Thirty-six percent replied that they were “somewhat” worried. This total of more than 75% represents a significant change from the 2015 Pew Center survey in which only 54% of parents were “somewhat” worried about their children’s mental health.

Prompted by these findings I began work on a column in which I planned to encourage pediatricians to think more like family physicians when we were working with children who were experiencing serious mental health problems. My primary message was going to be that we should turn more of our attention to the mental health of the anxious parents who must endure the often long and frustrating path toward effective psychiatric care for their children. This might come in the form of some simple suggestions about nonpharmacologic self-help strategies. Or, it could mean encouraging parents to seek psychiatric care or counseling for themselves as they wait for help for their child.

However, as I began that column, my thoughts kept drifting toward a broader consideration of the relationship between parents and pediatric mental health. If mental health of children is causing their parents to be anxious and depressed isn’t it just as likely that this is a bidirectional connection? This was not exactly an “aha” moment for me because it is a relationship I have considered for sometime. However, it is a concept that I have come to realize is receiving far too little attention.

There are exceptions. For example, a recent opinion piece in the New York Times by David French, “What if Kids Are Sad and Stressed Because Their Parents Are?” (March 19, 2023) echoes many of my concerns. Drawing on his experiences traveling around college campuses, Mr. French observes, “Just as parents are upset about their children’s anxiety and depression, children are anxious about their parent’s mental health.”

He notes that an August 2022 NBC News poll found that 58% of registered voters feel this country’s best days are behind it and joins me in imagining that this negative mind set is filtering down to the pediatric population. He acknowledges that there are other likely contributors to teen unhappiness including the ubiquity of smart phones, the secularization of society, and the media’s focus on the political divide. However, Mr. French wonders if the parenting style that results in childhood experiences that are dominated by adult supervision and protection may also be playing a large role.

In his conclusion, Mr. French asks us to consider “How much fear and anxiety should we import to our lives and homes?” as we adults search for an answer.

As I continued to drill down for other possible solutions, I encountered an avenue of psychological research that suggests that instead of, or in addition to, filtering out the anxiety-generating deluge of information, we begin to give some thought to how our beliefs may be coloring our perception of reality.

Jeremy D.W. Clifton, PhD, a psychologist at the University of Pennsylvania Positive Psychology Center has done extensive research on the relationship between our basic beliefs about the world (known as primal beliefs or simply primals in psychologist lingo) and how we interpret reality. For example, one of your primal beliefs may be that the world is a dangerous place. I, on the other hand, may see the world as a stimulating environment offering me endless opportunities to explore. I may see the world as an abundant resource limited only by my creativity. You, however, see it as a barren wasteland.

Dr. Clifton’s research has shown that our primals (at least those of adults) are relatively immutable through one’s lifetime and “do not appear to be the consequence of our experiences.” For example, living in a ZIP code with a high crime rate does not predict that you will see the world as a dangerous place. Nor does being affluent guarantee that an adult sees the world rich with opportunities.

It is unclear exactly when and by what process we develop our primal beliefs, but it is safe to say our parents probably play a large role. Exactly to what degree the tsunami of bad news we are allowing to inundate our children’s lives plays a role is unclear. However, it is reasonable to assume that news about climate change, school shootings, and the pandemic must be a contributor.

According to Dr. Clifton, there is some evidence that certain mind exercises, when applied diligently, can occasionally modify the primal beliefs of an individual who sees the world as dangerous and barren. Until such strategies become more readily accessible, the best we can do is acknowledge that our children are like canaries in a coal mine full of negative perceptions, then do our best to clear the air.

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.

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled across a report of a Pew Research Center’s survey titled “Parenting in America today” (Pew Research Center. Jan. 24, 2023), which found that 40% of parents in the United States with children younger than 18 are “extremely or very worried” that at some point their children might struggle with anxiety or depression. Thirty-six percent replied that they were “somewhat” worried. This total of more than 75% represents a significant change from the 2015 Pew Center survey in which only 54% of parents were “somewhat” worried about their children’s mental health.

Prompted by these findings I began work on a column in which I planned to encourage pediatricians to think more like family physicians when we were working with children who were experiencing serious mental health problems. My primary message was going to be that we should turn more of our attention to the mental health of the anxious parents who must endure the often long and frustrating path toward effective psychiatric care for their children. This might come in the form of some simple suggestions about nonpharmacologic self-help strategies. Or, it could mean encouraging parents to seek psychiatric care or counseling for themselves as they wait for help for their child.

However, as I began that column, my thoughts kept drifting toward a broader consideration of the relationship between parents and pediatric mental health. If mental health of children is causing their parents to be anxious and depressed isn’t it just as likely that this is a bidirectional connection? This was not exactly an “aha” moment for me because it is a relationship I have considered for sometime. However, it is a concept that I have come to realize is receiving far too little attention.

There are exceptions. For example, a recent opinion piece in the New York Times by David French, “What if Kids Are Sad and Stressed Because Their Parents Are?” (March 19, 2023) echoes many of my concerns. Drawing on his experiences traveling around college campuses, Mr. French observes, “Just as parents are upset about their children’s anxiety and depression, children are anxious about their parent’s mental health.”

He notes that an August 2022 NBC News poll found that 58% of registered voters feel this country’s best days are behind it and joins me in imagining that this negative mind set is filtering down to the pediatric population. He acknowledges that there are other likely contributors to teen unhappiness including the ubiquity of smart phones, the secularization of society, and the media’s focus on the political divide. However, Mr. French wonders if the parenting style that results in childhood experiences that are dominated by adult supervision and protection may also be playing a large role.

In his conclusion, Mr. French asks us to consider “How much fear and anxiety should we import to our lives and homes?” as we adults search for an answer.

As I continued to drill down for other possible solutions, I encountered an avenue of psychological research that suggests that instead of, or in addition to, filtering out the anxiety-generating deluge of information, we begin to give some thought to how our beliefs may be coloring our perception of reality.

Jeremy D.W. Clifton, PhD, a psychologist at the University of Pennsylvania Positive Psychology Center has done extensive research on the relationship between our basic beliefs about the world (known as primal beliefs or simply primals in psychologist lingo) and how we interpret reality. For example, one of your primal beliefs may be that the world is a dangerous place. I, on the other hand, may see the world as a stimulating environment offering me endless opportunities to explore. I may see the world as an abundant resource limited only by my creativity. You, however, see it as a barren wasteland.

Dr. Clifton’s research has shown that our primals (at least those of adults) are relatively immutable through one’s lifetime and “do not appear to be the consequence of our experiences.” For example, living in a ZIP code with a high crime rate does not predict that you will see the world as a dangerous place. Nor does being affluent guarantee that an adult sees the world rich with opportunities.

It is unclear exactly when and by what process we develop our primal beliefs, but it is safe to say our parents probably play a large role. Exactly to what degree the tsunami of bad news we are allowing to inundate our children’s lives plays a role is unclear. However, it is reasonable to assume that news about climate change, school shootings, and the pandemic must be a contributor.

According to Dr. Clifton, there is some evidence that certain mind exercises, when applied diligently, can occasionally modify the primal beliefs of an individual who sees the world as dangerous and barren. Until such strategies become more readily accessible, the best we can do is acknowledge that our children are like canaries in a coal mine full of negative perceptions, then do our best to clear the air.

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.

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled across a report of a Pew Research Center’s survey titled “Parenting in America today” (Pew Research Center. Jan. 24, 2023), which found that 40% of parents in the United States with children younger than 18 are “extremely or very worried” that at some point their children might struggle with anxiety or depression. Thirty-six percent replied that they were “somewhat” worried. This total of more than 75% represents a significant change from the 2015 Pew Center survey in which only 54% of parents were “somewhat” worried about their children’s mental health.

Prompted by these findings I began work on a column in which I planned to encourage pediatricians to think more like family physicians when we were working with children who were experiencing serious mental health problems. My primary message was going to be that we should turn more of our attention to the mental health of the anxious parents who must endure the often long and frustrating path toward effective psychiatric care for their children. This might come in the form of some simple suggestions about nonpharmacologic self-help strategies. Or, it could mean encouraging parents to seek psychiatric care or counseling for themselves as they wait for help for their child.

However, as I began that column, my thoughts kept drifting toward a broader consideration of the relationship between parents and pediatric mental health. If mental health of children is causing their parents to be anxious and depressed isn’t it just as likely that this is a bidirectional connection? This was not exactly an “aha” moment for me because it is a relationship I have considered for sometime. However, it is a concept that I have come to realize is receiving far too little attention.

There are exceptions. For example, a recent opinion piece in the New York Times by David French, “What if Kids Are Sad and Stressed Because Their Parents Are?” (March 19, 2023) echoes many of my concerns. Drawing on his experiences traveling around college campuses, Mr. French observes, “Just as parents are upset about their children’s anxiety and depression, children are anxious about their parent’s mental health.”

He notes that an August 2022 NBC News poll found that 58% of registered voters feel this country’s best days are behind it and joins me in imagining that this negative mind set is filtering down to the pediatric population. He acknowledges that there are other likely contributors to teen unhappiness including the ubiquity of smart phones, the secularization of society, and the media’s focus on the political divide. However, Mr. French wonders if the parenting style that results in childhood experiences that are dominated by adult supervision and protection may also be playing a large role.

In his conclusion, Mr. French asks us to consider “How much fear and anxiety should we import to our lives and homes?” as we adults search for an answer.

As I continued to drill down for other possible solutions, I encountered an avenue of psychological research that suggests that instead of, or in addition to, filtering out the anxiety-generating deluge of information, we begin to give some thought to how our beliefs may be coloring our perception of reality.

Jeremy D.W. Clifton, PhD, a psychologist at the University of Pennsylvania Positive Psychology Center has done extensive research on the relationship between our basic beliefs about the world (known as primal beliefs or simply primals in psychologist lingo) and how we interpret reality. For example, one of your primal beliefs may be that the world is a dangerous place. I, on the other hand, may see the world as a stimulating environment offering me endless opportunities to explore. I may see the world as an abundant resource limited only by my creativity. You, however, see it as a barren wasteland.

Dr. Clifton’s research has shown that our primals (at least those of adults) are relatively immutable through one’s lifetime and “do not appear to be the consequence of our experiences.” For example, living in a ZIP code with a high crime rate does not predict that you will see the world as a dangerous place. Nor does being affluent guarantee that an adult sees the world rich with opportunities.

It is unclear exactly when and by what process we develop our primal beliefs, but it is safe to say our parents probably play a large role. Exactly to what degree the tsunami of bad news we are allowing to inundate our children’s lives plays a role is unclear. However, it is reasonable to assume that news about climate change, school shootings, and the pandemic must be a contributor.

According to Dr. Clifton, there is some evidence that certain mind exercises, when applied diligently, can occasionally modify the primal beliefs of an individual who sees the world as dangerous and barren. Until such strategies become more readily accessible, the best we can do is acknowledge that our children are like canaries in a coal mine full of negative perceptions, then do our best to clear the air.

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.

Scenario: Yesterday you saw a 6-month-old infant with what appeared to be viral gastroenteritis and mild dehydration. When you called his parents today to check on his condition he was not improving despite your recommendations about his diet and oral rehydration. Should you have him brought to your office for a reevaluation, have his parents take him to the local emergency department for evaluation and probable hospital admission, or ask his parents to take him to the hospital telling them that you will call and arrange for a direct admission.

Obviously, I haven’t given you enough background information to allow you to give me an answer you are comfortable with. What time of day is it? Is it a holiday weekend? What’s the weather like? How far is it from the patient’s home to your office? To the emergency department? How is the local ED staffed? Are there hospitalists? What is their training?

Whether or not you choose to see the patient first in the office, is direct admission to the hospital an option that you are likely to choose? What steps do you take to see that it happens smoothly?

At least one-quarter of the unscheduled pediatric hospitalizations begin with a direct admission, meaning that the patients are not first evaluated in that hospital’s ED. In a recent policy statement, the American Academy of Pediatrics Committee on Hospital Care explored the pluses and minuses of direct admission and issued a list of seven recommendations. Among the concerns raised by the authors are “potential delays in initial evaluation and treatment, inconsistent admission processes, and difficulties in determining the appropriateness of patients for direct admission.” The committee makes it clear that they understand each community has it own strengths and challenges and the unique needs of each patient make it difficult to define a set of recommendations that fits all.

However, as I read through the committee’s seven recommendations, one leapt off the screen as a unifying concept that should apply in every situation. Recommendation No. 2 reads, “[There should be] clear systems of communication between members of the health care team and with families of children requiring admission.”

First, who is on this “health care team”? Are you a team member with the hospital folks – the ED nurses and doctors, the hospitalists, the floor nurses? Do you share an employer? Are you in the same town? Have your ever met them face to face? Do you do so regularly?

I assume you call the ED or the pediatric floor to arrange a direct admit? Maybe you don’t. I can recall working in situations where several infamous “local docs” would just send the patients in with a scribbled note (or not) and no phone call. Will you be speaking to folks who are even vaguely familiar with you or even your name? Do you get to speak with people who will be hands on with the patient?

Obviously, where I’m going with this is that, if you and the hospital staff are truly on the same health care team, communication should flow freely among the members and having some familiarity allows this to happen more smoothly. It can start on our end as the referring physician by making the call personally. Likewise, the receiving hospital must make frontline people available so you can speak with staff who will be working with the patient. Do you have enough information to tell the family what to expect?

Of course legible and complete records are a must. But nothing beats personal contact and a name. If you can tell a parent “I spoke to Martha, the nurse who will meet you on the floor,” that can be a giant first step forward in the healing process.

Most of us trained at hospitals that accepted direct admit patients and can remember the challenges. And most of us recall EDs that weren’t pediatric friendly. Whether our local situation favors direct admission or ED preadmission evaluation, it is our job to make the communication flow with the patient’s safety and the family’s comfort in mind.
 

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.

Scenario: Yesterday you saw a 6-month-old infant with what appeared to be viral gastroenteritis and mild dehydration. When you called his parents today to check on his condition he was not improving despite your recommendations about his diet and oral rehydration. Should you have him brought to your office for a reevaluation, have his parents take him to the local emergency department for evaluation and probable hospital admission, or ask his parents to take him to the hospital telling them that you will call and arrange for a direct admission.

Obviously, I haven’t given you enough background information to allow you to give me an answer you are comfortable with. What time of day is it? Is it a holiday weekend? What’s the weather like? How far is it from the patient’s home to your office? To the emergency department? How is the local ED staffed? Are there hospitalists? What is their training?

Whether or not you choose to see the patient first in the office, is direct admission to the hospital an option that you are likely to choose? What steps do you take to see that it happens smoothly?

At least one-quarter of the unscheduled pediatric hospitalizations begin with a direct admission, meaning that the patients are not first evaluated in that hospital’s ED. In a recent policy statement, the American Academy of Pediatrics Committee on Hospital Care explored the pluses and minuses of direct admission and issued a list of seven recommendations. Among the concerns raised by the authors are “potential delays in initial evaluation and treatment, inconsistent admission processes, and difficulties in determining the appropriateness of patients for direct admission.” The committee makes it clear that they understand each community has it own strengths and challenges and the unique needs of each patient make it difficult to define a set of recommendations that fits all.

However, as I read through the committee’s seven recommendations, one leapt off the screen as a unifying concept that should apply in every situation. Recommendation No. 2 reads, “[There should be] clear systems of communication between members of the health care team and with families of children requiring admission.”

First, who is on this “health care team”? Are you a team member with the hospital folks – the ED nurses and doctors, the hospitalists, the floor nurses? Do you share an employer? Are you in the same town? Have your ever met them face to face? Do you do so regularly?

I assume you call the ED or the pediatric floor to arrange a direct admit? Maybe you don’t. I can recall working in situations where several infamous “local docs” would just send the patients in with a scribbled note (or not) and no phone call. Will you be speaking to folks who are even vaguely familiar with you or even your name? Do you get to speak with people who will be hands on with the patient?

Obviously, where I’m going with this is that, if you and the hospital staff are truly on the same health care team, communication should flow freely among the members and having some familiarity allows this to happen more smoothly. It can start on our end as the referring physician by making the call personally. Likewise, the receiving hospital must make frontline people available so you can speak with staff who will be working with the patient. Do you have enough information to tell the family what to expect?

Of course legible and complete records are a must. But nothing beats personal contact and a name. If you can tell a parent “I spoke to Martha, the nurse who will meet you on the floor,” that can be a giant first step forward in the healing process.

Most of us trained at hospitals that accepted direct admit patients and can remember the challenges. And most of us recall EDs that weren’t pediatric friendly. Whether our local situation favors direct admission or ED preadmission evaluation, it is our job to make the communication flow with the patient’s safety and the family’s comfort in mind.
 

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.

Scenario: Yesterday you saw a 6-month-old infant with what appeared to be viral gastroenteritis and mild dehydration. When you called his parents today to check on his condition he was not improving despite your recommendations about his diet and oral rehydration. Should you have him brought to your office for a reevaluation, have his parents take him to the local emergency department for evaluation and probable hospital admission, or ask his parents to take him to the hospital telling them that you will call and arrange for a direct admission.

Obviously, I haven’t given you enough background information to allow you to give me an answer you are comfortable with. What time of day is it? Is it a holiday weekend? What’s the weather like? How far is it from the patient’s home to your office? To the emergency department? How is the local ED staffed? Are there hospitalists? What is their training?

Whether or not you choose to see the patient first in the office, is direct admission to the hospital an option that you are likely to choose? What steps do you take to see that it happens smoothly?

At least one-quarter of the unscheduled pediatric hospitalizations begin with a direct admission, meaning that the patients are not first evaluated in that hospital’s ED. In a recent policy statement, the American Academy of Pediatrics Committee on Hospital Care explored the pluses and minuses of direct admission and issued a list of seven recommendations. Among the concerns raised by the authors are “potential delays in initial evaluation and treatment, inconsistent admission processes, and difficulties in determining the appropriateness of patients for direct admission.” The committee makes it clear that they understand each community has it own strengths and challenges and the unique needs of each patient make it difficult to define a set of recommendations that fits all.

However, as I read through the committee’s seven recommendations, one leapt off the screen as a unifying concept that should apply in every situation. Recommendation No. 2 reads, “[There should be] clear systems of communication between members of the health care team and with families of children requiring admission.”

First, who is on this “health care team”? Are you a team member with the hospital folks – the ED nurses and doctors, the hospitalists, the floor nurses? Do you share an employer? Are you in the same town? Have your ever met them face to face? Do you do so regularly?

I assume you call the ED or the pediatric floor to arrange a direct admit? Maybe you don’t. I can recall working in situations where several infamous “local docs” would just send the patients in with a scribbled note (or not) and no phone call. Will you be speaking to folks who are even vaguely familiar with you or even your name? Do you get to speak with people who will be hands on with the patient?

Obviously, where I’m going with this is that, if you and the hospital staff are truly on the same health care team, communication should flow freely among the members and having some familiarity allows this to happen more smoothly. It can start on our end as the referring physician by making the call personally. Likewise, the receiving hospital must make frontline people available so you can speak with staff who will be working with the patient. Do you have enough information to tell the family what to expect?

Of course legible and complete records are a must. But nothing beats personal contact and a name. If you can tell a parent “I spoke to Martha, the nurse who will meet you on the floor,” that can be a giant first step forward in the healing process.

Most of us trained at hospitals that accepted direct admit patients and can remember the challenges. And most of us recall EDs that weren’t pediatric friendly. Whether our local situation favors direct admission or ED preadmission evaluation, it is our job to make the communication flow with the patient’s safety and the family’s comfort in mind.
 

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.

Last night I invested an hour and a half watching the first half of the Super Bowl ... because ... well, just because. As exciting as it might have been to watch, investing another 2 hours on the second half would have kept me up well past my bedtime. As I lay in bed with the thwack-thwack-thud of helmets hitting pads still reverberating in my ears, my thoughts drifted to the ever-shifting landscape of concussion management.

More than 2 decades ago, concussions were just beginning to exit the dark ages when loss of consciousness was the defining symptom or sign that most folks (and here I am including physicians) used to separate the run-of-the-mill stinger or bell-ringer from a “real” concussion.

The new era dawned with the appearance of clinics devoted to concussion management and the development of protocols that limited everything from physical exertion to reading and screen time. Schools were coaxed into subjecting their athletes to preparticipation testing sessions with the hope that creating a baseline cognitive assessment would somehow make the diagnosis and management of concussion feel more scientific. Many of the recommended management strategies were based on the intuitive but flawed notion of “brain rest.” If reading or bright lights aggravate patient’s symptoms, they should be avoided but otherwise resting the brain doesn’t seem to make sense.

Fortunately, there were, and hopefully will continue to be, clinicians willing to question hastily developed management protocols. One recent cohort study from Canada has found that, surprisingly, (to some experts), “early return to school was associated with a lower symptom burden” This association held true for both age groups the researches studied (8-12 years and 13-18 years). The authors conclude that delayed return to school “may be detrimental to recovery.” In this study, early return to school was defined as less than 3 days.

In another study, this one in the journal Pediatrics, the authors found that “the association of early screen time with postconcussion symptoms is not linear.” Their conclusion was that the best approach to clinical management of concussion should include a moderate amount of screen time.

After reading both of these studies I am heartened that we are now hearing voices suggesting a return to concussion management based on careful observation of the individual patient and common sense. A concussed brain is not a torn hamstring or a broken clavicle that under most circumstances will heal in a predictable amount of time. It is prudent to exclude the concussed patient from activities that carry a significant risk of reinjury until the symptoms have subsided. However, postconcussion symptoms are often vague and can be mistaken for or aggravated by a host of other conditions including learning disabilities, anxiety, and depression.

I hope that our experience with the COVID pandemic has taught us that removing children from school and their usual activities can have a serious negative effect on their emotional health and academic achievement. This seems to be particularly true for the young people who were already struggling to adjust to being a student. Getting out of the habit of going to school often intensifies the anxieties of an emotionally or academically challenged student. Each day away from the school atmosphere can compound the symptoms that may or may not have been triggered by the concussion.

The message here is clear that, whether we are talking about concussions or appendectomies or mononucleosis, the sooner we can return the child to something close to their old normal the more successful we will be in a helping them adjust to the new normal.

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.

Last night I invested an hour and a half watching the first half of the Super Bowl ... because ... well, just because. As exciting as it might have been to watch, investing another 2 hours on the second half would have kept me up well past my bedtime. As I lay in bed with the thwack-thwack-thud of helmets hitting pads still reverberating in my ears, my thoughts drifted to the ever-shifting landscape of concussion management.

More than 2 decades ago, concussions were just beginning to exit the dark ages when loss of consciousness was the defining symptom or sign that most folks (and here I am including physicians) used to separate the run-of-the-mill stinger or bell-ringer from a “real” concussion.

The new era dawned with the appearance of clinics devoted to concussion management and the development of protocols that limited everything from physical exertion to reading and screen time. Schools were coaxed into subjecting their athletes to preparticipation testing sessions with the hope that creating a baseline cognitive assessment would somehow make the diagnosis and management of concussion feel more scientific. Many of the recommended management strategies were based on the intuitive but flawed notion of “brain rest.” If reading or bright lights aggravate patient’s symptoms, they should be avoided but otherwise resting the brain doesn’t seem to make sense.

Fortunately, there were, and hopefully will continue to be, clinicians willing to question hastily developed management protocols. One recent cohort study from Canada has found that, surprisingly, (to some experts), “early return to school was associated with a lower symptom burden” This association held true for both age groups the researches studied (8-12 years and 13-18 years). The authors conclude that delayed return to school “may be detrimental to recovery.” In this study, early return to school was defined as less than 3 days.

In another study, this one in the journal Pediatrics, the authors found that “the association of early screen time with postconcussion symptoms is not linear.” Their conclusion was that the best approach to clinical management of concussion should include a moderate amount of screen time.

After reading both of these studies I am heartened that we are now hearing voices suggesting a return to concussion management based on careful observation of the individual patient and common sense. A concussed brain is not a torn hamstring or a broken clavicle that under most circumstances will heal in a predictable amount of time. It is prudent to exclude the concussed patient from activities that carry a significant risk of reinjury until the symptoms have subsided. However, postconcussion symptoms are often vague and can be mistaken for or aggravated by a host of other conditions including learning disabilities, anxiety, and depression.

I hope that our experience with the COVID pandemic has taught us that removing children from school and their usual activities can have a serious negative effect on their emotional health and academic achievement. This seems to be particularly true for the young people who were already struggling to adjust to being a student. Getting out of the habit of going to school often intensifies the anxieties of an emotionally or academically challenged student. Each day away from the school atmosphere can compound the symptoms that may or may not have been triggered by the concussion.

The message here is clear that, whether we are talking about concussions or appendectomies or mononucleosis, the sooner we can return the child to something close to their old normal the more successful we will be in a helping them adjust to the new normal.

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.

Last night I invested an hour and a half watching the first half of the Super Bowl ... because ... well, just because. As exciting as it might have been to watch, investing another 2 hours on the second half would have kept me up well past my bedtime. As I lay in bed with the thwack-thwack-thud of helmets hitting pads still reverberating in my ears, my thoughts drifted to the ever-shifting landscape of concussion management.

More than 2 decades ago, concussions were just beginning to exit the dark ages when loss of consciousness was the defining symptom or sign that most folks (and here I am including physicians) used to separate the run-of-the-mill stinger or bell-ringer from a “real” concussion.

The new era dawned with the appearance of clinics devoted to concussion management and the development of protocols that limited everything from physical exertion to reading and screen time. Schools were coaxed into subjecting their athletes to preparticipation testing sessions with the hope that creating a baseline cognitive assessment would somehow make the diagnosis and management of concussion feel more scientific. Many of the recommended management strategies were based on the intuitive but flawed notion of “brain rest.” If reading or bright lights aggravate patient’s symptoms, they should be avoided but otherwise resting the brain doesn’t seem to make sense.

Fortunately, there were, and hopefully will continue to be, clinicians willing to question hastily developed management protocols. One recent cohort study from Canada has found that, surprisingly, (to some experts), “early return to school was associated with a lower symptom burden” This association held true for both age groups the researches studied (8-12 years and 13-18 years). The authors conclude that delayed return to school “may be detrimental to recovery.” In this study, early return to school was defined as less than 3 days.

In another study, this one in the journal Pediatrics, the authors found that “the association of early screen time with postconcussion symptoms is not linear.” Their conclusion was that the best approach to clinical management of concussion should include a moderate amount of screen time.

After reading both of these studies I am heartened that we are now hearing voices suggesting a return to concussion management based on careful observation of the individual patient and common sense. A concussed brain is not a torn hamstring or a broken clavicle that under most circumstances will heal in a predictable amount of time. It is prudent to exclude the concussed patient from activities that carry a significant risk of reinjury until the symptoms have subsided. However, postconcussion symptoms are often vague and can be mistaken for or aggravated by a host of other conditions including learning disabilities, anxiety, and depression.

I hope that our experience with the COVID pandemic has taught us that removing children from school and their usual activities can have a serious negative effect on their emotional health and academic achievement. This seems to be particularly true for the young people who were already struggling to adjust to being a student. Getting out of the habit of going to school often intensifies the anxieties of an emotionally or academically challenged student. Each day away from the school atmosphere can compound the symptoms that may or may not have been triggered by the concussion.

The message here is clear that, whether we are talking about concussions or appendectomies or mononucleosis, the sooner we can return the child to something close to their old normal the more successful we will be in a helping them adjust to the new normal.

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 you live in a suburban or semirural community you have seen at least one urgent care center open up in the last decade. They now number nearly 12,000 nationwide and are growing in number at a 7% rate. Urgent care center patient volume surged during the pandemic and an industry trade group reports it has risen 60% since 2019 (Meyerson N. Why urgent care centers are popping up everywhere. CNN Business. 2023 Jan 28).

According to a report on the CNN Business website, this growth is the result of “convenience, gaps in primary care, high costs of emergency room visits, and increased investment by health systems and equity groups.” Initially, these centers were generally staffed by physicians (70% in 2009) but as of 2022 this number has fallen to 16%. While there are conflicting data to support the claim that urgent care centers are overprescribing, it is pretty clear that their presence in a community encourages fragmented care and weakens established provider-patient relationships. One study has shown that although urgent care centers can prevent a costly emergency room visit ($1,649/visit) this advantage is offset by urgent care cost of more than $6,000.

In the same CNN report, Susan Kressly MD, chair of the AAP’s Private Payer Advocacy Advisory Committee, said: “There’s a need to keep up with society’s demand for quick turnaround, on-demand services that can’t be supported by underfunded primary care.”

Her observation suggests that there is an accelerating demand for timely primary care services. From my perch here in semirural Maine, I don’t see an increasing or unreasonable demand for timeliness by patients and families. Two decades ago, the practice I was in offered evening and weekend morning office hours and call-in times when patientsor parents could speak directly to a physician. These avenues of accessibility have disappeared community wide.

Back in the 1990s “the medical home” was all the buzz. We were encouraged to be the first and primary place to go for a broad range of preventive and responsive care. One-stop shopping at its best. Now it’s “knock, knock ... is anybody home?” Not if it’s getting dark, or it’s the weekend, or you have a minor injury. “Please call the urgent care center.”

I will admit that our dedicated call-in times were unusual and probably not sustainable for most practices. But, most practices back then would see children with acute illness and minor scrapes and trauma on a same-day basis. We dressed burns, splinted joints, and closed minor lacerations. What has changed to create the void that urgent care centers see as an opportunity to make money?

One explanation is the difficulty in finding folks (both providers and support people) who are willing to work a schedule that includes evenings and weekends. One study predicts that there will be a shortfall of 55,000 primary care physicians in the next decade, regardless of their work-life balance preferences. Sometimes it is a lack of creativity and foresight in creating flexible booking schedules that include ample time for patient- and parent-friendly same-day appointments. Minor injuries and skin problems can usually be managed quickly and effectively by an experienced clinician. Unquestionably, one of the big changes has been the shift in the patient mix leaning more toward time-consuming mental health complaints, which make it more difficult to leave open same-day slots. Restoring pediatricians’ offices to their former role as urgent care centers will require training not just more primary care physicians but also mental health consultants and providers.

First, we must decide that we want to become a real medical home that answers to a knock with a receptive response at almost any hour. By failing to accept the challenge of seeing our patients in a timely manner for their minor problems we will continue to fragment their care and threaten to make our relationship with them increasingly irrelevant.

It will mean rethinking how we schedule ourselves and our offices. It may require taking a hard look at how we spend our professional time. For example are annual checkups a must for every child at every age? Are all follow-up visits equally important? Would a phone call be just as effective? Most of all it will require adopting a mindset that we want to be complete physicians for our patients.

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 you live in a suburban or semirural community you have seen at least one urgent care center open up in the last decade. They now number nearly 12,000 nationwide and are growing in number at a 7% rate. Urgent care center patient volume surged during the pandemic and an industry trade group reports it has risen 60% since 2019 (Meyerson N. Why urgent care centers are popping up everywhere. CNN Business. 2023 Jan 28).

According to a report on the CNN Business website, this growth is the result of “convenience, gaps in primary care, high costs of emergency room visits, and increased investment by health systems and equity groups.” Initially, these centers were generally staffed by physicians (70% in 2009) but as of 2022 this number has fallen to 16%. While there are conflicting data to support the claim that urgent care centers are overprescribing, it is pretty clear that their presence in a community encourages fragmented care and weakens established provider-patient relationships. One study has shown that although urgent care centers can prevent a costly emergency room visit ($1,649/visit) this advantage is offset by urgent care cost of more than $6,000.

In the same CNN report, Susan Kressly MD, chair of the AAP’s Private Payer Advocacy Advisory Committee, said: “There’s a need to keep up with society’s demand for quick turnaround, on-demand services that can’t be supported by underfunded primary care.”

Her observation suggests that there is an accelerating demand for timely primary care services. From my perch here in semirural Maine, I don’t see an increasing or unreasonable demand for timeliness by patients and families. Two decades ago, the practice I was in offered evening and weekend morning office hours and call-in times when patientsor parents could speak directly to a physician. These avenues of accessibility have disappeared community wide.

Back in the 1990s “the medical home” was all the buzz. We were encouraged to be the first and primary place to go for a broad range of preventive and responsive care. One-stop shopping at its best. Now it’s “knock, knock ... is anybody home?” Not if it’s getting dark, or it’s the weekend, or you have a minor injury. “Please call the urgent care center.”

I will admit that our dedicated call-in times were unusual and probably not sustainable for most practices. But, most practices back then would see children with acute illness and minor scrapes and trauma on a same-day basis. We dressed burns, splinted joints, and closed minor lacerations. What has changed to create the void that urgent care centers see as an opportunity to make money?

One explanation is the difficulty in finding folks (both providers and support people) who are willing to work a schedule that includes evenings and weekends. One study predicts that there will be a shortfall of 55,000 primary care physicians in the next decade, regardless of their work-life balance preferences. Sometimes it is a lack of creativity and foresight in creating flexible booking schedules that include ample time for patient- and parent-friendly same-day appointments. Minor injuries and skin problems can usually be managed quickly and effectively by an experienced clinician. Unquestionably, one of the big changes has been the shift in the patient mix leaning more toward time-consuming mental health complaints, which make it more difficult to leave open same-day slots. Restoring pediatricians’ offices to their former role as urgent care centers will require training not just more primary care physicians but also mental health consultants and providers.

First, we must decide that we want to become a real medical home that answers to a knock with a receptive response at almost any hour. By failing to accept the challenge of seeing our patients in a timely manner for their minor problems we will continue to fragment their care and threaten to make our relationship with them increasingly irrelevant.

It will mean rethinking how we schedule ourselves and our offices. It may require taking a hard look at how we spend our professional time. For example are annual checkups a must for every child at every age? Are all follow-up visits equally important? Would a phone call be just as effective? Most of all it will require adopting a mindset that we want to be complete physicians for our patients.

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 you live in a suburban or semirural community you have seen at least one urgent care center open up in the last decade. They now number nearly 12,000 nationwide and are growing in number at a 7% rate. Urgent care center patient volume surged during the pandemic and an industry trade group reports it has risen 60% since 2019 (Meyerson N. Why urgent care centers are popping up everywhere. CNN Business. 2023 Jan 28).

According to a report on the CNN Business website, this growth is the result of “convenience, gaps in primary care, high costs of emergency room visits, and increased investment by health systems and equity groups.” Initially, these centers were generally staffed by physicians (70% in 2009) but as of 2022 this number has fallen to 16%. While there are conflicting data to support the claim that urgent care centers are overprescribing, it is pretty clear that their presence in a community encourages fragmented care and weakens established provider-patient relationships. One study has shown that although urgent care centers can prevent a costly emergency room visit ($1,649/visit) this advantage is offset by urgent care cost of more than $6,000.

In the same CNN report, Susan Kressly MD, chair of the AAP’s Private Payer Advocacy Advisory Committee, said: “There’s a need to keep up with society’s demand for quick turnaround, on-demand services that can’t be supported by underfunded primary care.”

Her observation suggests that there is an accelerating demand for timely primary care services. From my perch here in semirural Maine, I don’t see an increasing or unreasonable demand for timeliness by patients and families. Two decades ago, the practice I was in offered evening and weekend morning office hours and call-in times when patientsor parents could speak directly to a physician. These avenues of accessibility have disappeared community wide.

Back in the 1990s “the medical home” was all the buzz. We were encouraged to be the first and primary place to go for a broad range of preventive and responsive care. One-stop shopping at its best. Now it’s “knock, knock ... is anybody home?” Not if it’s getting dark, or it’s the weekend, or you have a minor injury. “Please call the urgent care center.”

I will admit that our dedicated call-in times were unusual and probably not sustainable for most practices. But, most practices back then would see children with acute illness and minor scrapes and trauma on a same-day basis. We dressed burns, splinted joints, and closed minor lacerations. What has changed to create the void that urgent care centers see as an opportunity to make money?

One explanation is the difficulty in finding folks (both providers and support people) who are willing to work a schedule that includes evenings and weekends. One study predicts that there will be a shortfall of 55,000 primary care physicians in the next decade, regardless of their work-life balance preferences. Sometimes it is a lack of creativity and foresight in creating flexible booking schedules that include ample time for patient- and parent-friendly same-day appointments. Minor injuries and skin problems can usually be managed quickly and effectively by an experienced clinician. Unquestionably, one of the big changes has been the shift in the patient mix leaning more toward time-consuming mental health complaints, which make it more difficult to leave open same-day slots. Restoring pediatricians’ offices to their former role as urgent care centers will require training not just more primary care physicians but also mental health consultants and providers.

First, we must decide that we want to become a real medical home that answers to a knock with a receptive response at almost any hour. By failing to accept the challenge of seeing our patients in a timely manner for their minor problems we will continue to fragment their care and threaten to make our relationship with them increasingly irrelevant.

It will mean rethinking how we schedule ourselves and our offices. It may require taking a hard look at how we spend our professional time. For example are annual checkups a must for every child at every age? Are all follow-up visits equally important? Would a phone call be just as effective? Most of all it will require adopting a mindset that we want to be complete physicians for our patients.

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.

According to an article in the Wall Street Journal (Mosbergen D. 2023 Jan 16), physicians-in-training in several parts of the country are attempting to unionize. The Committee of Interns and Residents (CIR), a union representing about 15% of the 140,000 residents and fellows in the United States reports that it has been adding chapters at an accelerated rate since the pandemic began.

Most of the 1,400 residents at Palo Alto–based Stanford Medicine recently voted to unionize seeking better compensation and improved working conditions including more accommodations for residents with disabilities or who are breastfeeding. At the University of Illinois at Chicago, house officers are also exploring an association with CIR hoping that collective bargaining might help them get “better pay and working conditions that could alleviate some burnout and stress.”

Although physicians have been hesitant to organize themselves around workplace concerns, nurses have a more robust history of unionizing and taking action. Recently, the nurses at two of New York’s largest medical centers went on a strike for 3 days that ended after the medical centers agreed to their primary demand of hiring more nurses and committing to set more workable nurse to patient ratios.

In an unusual but historic incident of workplace activism, the residents and interns at the then notoriously decrepit Boston City Hospital staged a “heal-in” in 1967 during which they admitted more patients (all with legitimate conditions for admission) than the hospital could handle. While more pay was included in their demands (interns were being paid $3,600/year and senior residents $7,500/year), the primary complaint of the house officers focused on patient health and safety issues. The crisis this work action triggered finally brought into sharp focus the city’s failure to care for its most needy citizens and over time, changes have been made (TIME Magazine. U.S. edition. Jun 21;91:25).

Having spent some time at the Boston City Hospital as a medical student in the 1960s I can attest to the deplorable conditions. While you might not be washing your hands and instruments in rusty sinks or having to brush flaking paint off your patients’ cribs, you may be experiencing working conditions that are threatening the health and safety of you, your coworkers, and not least of all your patients. Staffing shortages, clunky electronic health record systems that are adding hours of work to your day, screen after screen of data entry tasks that prevent you from meeting your patients eye-to-eye, and piles of prior authorization requests clogging your inbox to name just a few.

Who can you complain to, other than your coworkers? The patients brought their problems to you; it doesn’t seem fair to add to their burden by sharing your own. Maybe it’s time to think about joining a union to strengthen your voice and create some change.

But “union” and “strike” don’t sound very professional and certainly not coming from the mouths of folks who have chosen to be caregivers. However, things have changed. Most of us are employees now. We need to finally accept that role and begin acting like employees working under stressful and unhealthy conditions. Does the word “burnout” make the notion of unionizing any more palatable?

The American Medical Association’s code of ethics wisely discourages physicians from engaging in actions that withhold medical care. However, the Boston City Hospital house officers provided just one example of a work action that can draw attention to the problem while still providing care to the patients in our trust.

Simply, joining our voices can be a powerful force in the war of words and images. Patients don’t like the impersonalization that has come with the current crop of electronic health record systems and the tortuous phone trees they must navigate just to talk to a human voice any more than we do. Instead of complaining to the patients, we should explain to them that the working conditions we must endure have the same roots as the things they don’t like about coming to see us.

I hope your situation still allows you to have an effective voice. If it doesn’t maybe it’s time to consider unionizing. However, if asking for more pay is anywhere near the top of your grievance list, I don’t want to join your union because you are doomed to failure on the public relations battlefield.

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.

According to an article in the Wall Street Journal (Mosbergen D. 2023 Jan 16), physicians-in-training in several parts of the country are attempting to unionize. The Committee of Interns and Residents (CIR), a union representing about 15% of the 140,000 residents and fellows in the United States reports that it has been adding chapters at an accelerated rate since the pandemic began.

Most of the 1,400 residents at Palo Alto–based Stanford Medicine recently voted to unionize seeking better compensation and improved working conditions including more accommodations for residents with disabilities or who are breastfeeding. At the University of Illinois at Chicago, house officers are also exploring an association with CIR hoping that collective bargaining might help them get “better pay and working conditions that could alleviate some burnout and stress.”

Although physicians have been hesitant to organize themselves around workplace concerns, nurses have a more robust history of unionizing and taking action. Recently, the nurses at two of New York’s largest medical centers went on a strike for 3 days that ended after the medical centers agreed to their primary demand of hiring more nurses and committing to set more workable nurse to patient ratios.

In an unusual but historic incident of workplace activism, the residents and interns at the then notoriously decrepit Boston City Hospital staged a “heal-in” in 1967 during which they admitted more patients (all with legitimate conditions for admission) than the hospital could handle. While more pay was included in their demands (interns were being paid $3,600/year and senior residents $7,500/year), the primary complaint of the house officers focused on patient health and safety issues. The crisis this work action triggered finally brought into sharp focus the city’s failure to care for its most needy citizens and over time, changes have been made (TIME Magazine. U.S. edition. Jun 21;91:25).

Having spent some time at the Boston City Hospital as a medical student in the 1960s I can attest to the deplorable conditions. While you might not be washing your hands and instruments in rusty sinks or having to brush flaking paint off your patients’ cribs, you may be experiencing working conditions that are threatening the health and safety of you, your coworkers, and not least of all your patients. Staffing shortages, clunky electronic health record systems that are adding hours of work to your day, screen after screen of data entry tasks that prevent you from meeting your patients eye-to-eye, and piles of prior authorization requests clogging your inbox to name just a few.

Who can you complain to, other than your coworkers? The patients brought their problems to you; it doesn’t seem fair to add to their burden by sharing your own. Maybe it’s time to think about joining a union to strengthen your voice and create some change.

But “union” and “strike” don’t sound very professional and certainly not coming from the mouths of folks who have chosen to be caregivers. However, things have changed. Most of us are employees now. We need to finally accept that role and begin acting like employees working under stressful and unhealthy conditions. Does the word “burnout” make the notion of unionizing any more palatable?

The American Medical Association’s code of ethics wisely discourages physicians from engaging in actions that withhold medical care. However, the Boston City Hospital house officers provided just one example of a work action that can draw attention to the problem while still providing care to the patients in our trust.

Simply, joining our voices can be a powerful force in the war of words and images. Patients don’t like the impersonalization that has come with the current crop of electronic health record systems and the tortuous phone trees they must navigate just to talk to a human voice any more than we do. Instead of complaining to the patients, we should explain to them that the working conditions we must endure have the same roots as the things they don’t like about coming to see us.

I hope your situation still allows you to have an effective voice. If it doesn’t maybe it’s time to consider unionizing. However, if asking for more pay is anywhere near the top of your grievance list, I don’t want to join your union because you are doomed to failure on the public relations battlefield.

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.

According to an article in the Wall Street Journal (Mosbergen D. 2023 Jan 16), physicians-in-training in several parts of the country are attempting to unionize. The Committee of Interns and Residents (CIR), a union representing about 15% of the 140,000 residents and fellows in the United States reports that it has been adding chapters at an accelerated rate since the pandemic began.

Most of the 1,400 residents at Palo Alto–based Stanford Medicine recently voted to unionize seeking better compensation and improved working conditions including more accommodations for residents with disabilities or who are breastfeeding. At the University of Illinois at Chicago, house officers are also exploring an association with CIR hoping that collective bargaining might help them get “better pay and working conditions that could alleviate some burnout and stress.”

Although physicians have been hesitant to organize themselves around workplace concerns, nurses have a more robust history of unionizing and taking action. Recently, the nurses at two of New York’s largest medical centers went on a strike for 3 days that ended after the medical centers agreed to their primary demand of hiring more nurses and committing to set more workable nurse to patient ratios.

In an unusual but historic incident of workplace activism, the residents and interns at the then notoriously decrepit Boston City Hospital staged a “heal-in” in 1967 during which they admitted more patients (all with legitimate conditions for admission) than the hospital could handle. While more pay was included in their demands (interns were being paid $3,600/year and senior residents $7,500/year), the primary complaint of the house officers focused on patient health and safety issues. The crisis this work action triggered finally brought into sharp focus the city’s failure to care for its most needy citizens and over time, changes have been made (TIME Magazine. U.S. edition. Jun 21;91:25).

Having spent some time at the Boston City Hospital as a medical student in the 1960s I can attest to the deplorable conditions. While you might not be washing your hands and instruments in rusty sinks or having to brush flaking paint off your patients’ cribs, you may be experiencing working conditions that are threatening the health and safety of you, your coworkers, and not least of all your patients. Staffing shortages, clunky electronic health record systems that are adding hours of work to your day, screen after screen of data entry tasks that prevent you from meeting your patients eye-to-eye, and piles of prior authorization requests clogging your inbox to name just a few.

Who can you complain to, other than your coworkers? The patients brought their problems to you; it doesn’t seem fair to add to their burden by sharing your own. Maybe it’s time to think about joining a union to strengthen your voice and create some change.

But “union” and “strike” don’t sound very professional and certainly not coming from the mouths of folks who have chosen to be caregivers. However, things have changed. Most of us are employees now. We need to finally accept that role and begin acting like employees working under stressful and unhealthy conditions. Does the word “burnout” make the notion of unionizing any more palatable?

The American Medical Association’s code of ethics wisely discourages physicians from engaging in actions that withhold medical care. However, the Boston City Hospital house officers provided just one example of a work action that can draw attention to the problem while still providing care to the patients in our trust.

Simply, joining our voices can be a powerful force in the war of words and images. Patients don’t like the impersonalization that has come with the current crop of electronic health record systems and the tortuous phone trees they must navigate just to talk to a human voice any more than we do. Instead of complaining to the patients, we should explain to them that the working conditions we must endure have the same roots as the things they don’t like about coming to see us.

I hope your situation still allows you to have an effective voice. If it doesn’t maybe it’s time to consider unionizing. However, if asking for more pay is anywhere near the top of your grievance list, I don’t want to join your union because you are doomed to failure on the public relations battlefield.

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 guess we shouldn’t be surprised that vaccination rates in this country fell during the frenzy created by the COVID pandemic. We had a lot on our plates. Schools closed and many of us retreated into what seemed to be the safety of our homes. Parents were reluctant to take their children anywhere, let alone a pediatrician’s office. State health agencies wisely focused on collecting case figures and then shepherding the efforts to immunize against SARS-CoV-2 once vaccines were available. Tracking and promoting the existing children’s vaccinations fell off the priority list, even in places with exemplary vaccination rates.

Whether or not the pandemic is over continues to be a topic for debate, but there is clearly a general shift toward a new normalcy. However, vaccination rates of our children have not rebounded to prepandemic levels. In fact, in some areas they are continuing to fall.

In a recent guest essay in the New York Times, Ezekiel J. Emmanuel, MD, PhD, a physician and professor of medical ethics and health policy at the University of Pennsylvania, and Matthew Guido, his research assistant, explore the reasons for this lack of a significant rebound. The authors cite recent outbreaks of measles in Ohio and polio in New York City as examples of the peril we are facing if we fail to reverse the trend. In some areas measles vaccine rates alarmingly have dipped below the threshold for herd immunity.

While Dr. Emmanuel and Mr. Guido acknowledge that the pandemic was a major driver of the falling vaccination rates they lay blame on the persistent decline on three factors that they view as correctable: nonmedical exemptions, our failure to vigorously enforce existing vaccine requirements, and inadequate public health campaigns.

The authors underestimate the lingering effect of the pandemic on parents’ vaccine hesitancy. As a septuagenarian who often hangs out with other septuagenarians I view the rapid development and effectiveness of the COVID vaccine as astounding and a boost for vaccines in general. However, were I much younger I might treat the vaccine’s success with a shrug. After some initial concern, the younger half of the population didn’t seem to see the illness as much of a threat to themselves or their peers. This attitude was reinforced by the fact that few of their peers, including those who were unvaccinated, were getting seriously ill. Despite all the hype, most parents and their children never ended up getting seriously ill.

You can understand why many parents might be quick to toss what you and I consider a successful COVID vaccine onto what they view as a growing pile of vaccines for diseases that in their experience have never sickened or killed anyone they have known.

Let’s be honest: Over the last half century we have produced several generations of parents who have little knowledge and certainly no personal experience with a childhood disease on the order or magnitude of polio. The vaccines that we have developed during their lifetimes have been targeted at diseases such as haemophilus influenzae meningitis that, while serious and anxiety provoking for pediatricians, occur so sporadically that most parents have no personal experience to motivate them to vaccinate their children.

Dr. Emmanuel and Mr. Guido are correct in advocating for the broader elimination of nonmedical exemptions and urging us to find the political will to vigorously enforce the vaccine requirements we have already enacted. I agree that our promotional campaigns need to be more robust. But, this will be a difficult challenge unless we can impress our audience with our straight talk and honesty. We must acknowledge and then explain why all vaccines are not created equal and that some are of more critical importance than others.

We are slowly learning that education isn’t the cure-all for vaccine hesitancy we once thought it was. And using scare tactics can backfire and create dysfunctional anxiety. We must choosing our words and target audience carefully. And ... having the political will to force parents into doing the right thing will be critical if we wish to restore our vaccination rates.

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 guess we shouldn’t be surprised that vaccination rates in this country fell during the frenzy created by the COVID pandemic. We had a lot on our plates. Schools closed and many of us retreated into what seemed to be the safety of our homes. Parents were reluctant to take their children anywhere, let alone a pediatrician’s office. State health agencies wisely focused on collecting case figures and then shepherding the efforts to immunize against SARS-CoV-2 once vaccines were available. Tracking and promoting the existing children’s vaccinations fell off the priority list, even in places with exemplary vaccination rates.

Whether or not the pandemic is over continues to be a topic for debate, but there is clearly a general shift toward a new normalcy. However, vaccination rates of our children have not rebounded to prepandemic levels. In fact, in some areas they are continuing to fall.

In a recent guest essay in the New York Times, Ezekiel J. Emmanuel, MD, PhD, a physician and professor of medical ethics and health policy at the University of Pennsylvania, and Matthew Guido, his research assistant, explore the reasons for this lack of a significant rebound. The authors cite recent outbreaks of measles in Ohio and polio in New York City as examples of the peril we are facing if we fail to reverse the trend. In some areas measles vaccine rates alarmingly have dipped below the threshold for herd immunity.

While Dr. Emmanuel and Mr. Guido acknowledge that the pandemic was a major driver of the falling vaccination rates they lay blame on the persistent decline on three factors that they view as correctable: nonmedical exemptions, our failure to vigorously enforce existing vaccine requirements, and inadequate public health campaigns.

The authors underestimate the lingering effect of the pandemic on parents’ vaccine hesitancy. As a septuagenarian who often hangs out with other septuagenarians I view the rapid development and effectiveness of the COVID vaccine as astounding and a boost for vaccines in general. However, were I much younger I might treat the vaccine’s success with a shrug. After some initial concern, the younger half of the population didn’t seem to see the illness as much of a threat to themselves or their peers. This attitude was reinforced by the fact that few of their peers, including those who were unvaccinated, were getting seriously ill. Despite all the hype, most parents and their children never ended up getting seriously ill.

You can understand why many parents might be quick to toss what you and I consider a successful COVID vaccine onto what they view as a growing pile of vaccines for diseases that in their experience have never sickened or killed anyone they have known.

Let’s be honest: Over the last half century we have produced several generations of parents who have little knowledge and certainly no personal experience with a childhood disease on the order or magnitude of polio. The vaccines that we have developed during their lifetimes have been targeted at diseases such as haemophilus influenzae meningitis that, while serious and anxiety provoking for pediatricians, occur so sporadically that most parents have no personal experience to motivate them to vaccinate their children.

Dr. Emmanuel and Mr. Guido are correct in advocating for the broader elimination of nonmedical exemptions and urging us to find the political will to vigorously enforce the vaccine requirements we have already enacted. I agree that our promotional campaigns need to be more robust. But, this will be a difficult challenge unless we can impress our audience with our straight talk and honesty. We must acknowledge and then explain why all vaccines are not created equal and that some are of more critical importance than others.

We are slowly learning that education isn’t the cure-all for vaccine hesitancy we once thought it was. And using scare tactics can backfire and create dysfunctional anxiety. We must choosing our words and target audience carefully. And ... having the political will to force parents into doing the right thing will be critical if we wish to restore our vaccination rates.

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 guess we shouldn’t be surprised that vaccination rates in this country fell during the frenzy created by the COVID pandemic. We had a lot on our plates. Schools closed and many of us retreated into what seemed to be the safety of our homes. Parents were reluctant to take their children anywhere, let alone a pediatrician’s office. State health agencies wisely focused on collecting case figures and then shepherding the efforts to immunize against SARS-CoV-2 once vaccines were available. Tracking and promoting the existing children’s vaccinations fell off the priority list, even in places with exemplary vaccination rates.

Whether or not the pandemic is over continues to be a topic for debate, but there is clearly a general shift toward a new normalcy. However, vaccination rates of our children have not rebounded to prepandemic levels. In fact, in some areas they are continuing to fall.

In a recent guest essay in the New York Times, Ezekiel J. Emmanuel, MD, PhD, a physician and professor of medical ethics and health policy at the University of Pennsylvania, and Matthew Guido, his research assistant, explore the reasons for this lack of a significant rebound. The authors cite recent outbreaks of measles in Ohio and polio in New York City as examples of the peril we are facing if we fail to reverse the trend. In some areas measles vaccine rates alarmingly have dipped below the threshold for herd immunity.

While Dr. Emmanuel and Mr. Guido acknowledge that the pandemic was a major driver of the falling vaccination rates they lay blame on the persistent decline on three factors that they view as correctable: nonmedical exemptions, our failure to vigorously enforce existing vaccine requirements, and inadequate public health campaigns.

The authors underestimate the lingering effect of the pandemic on parents’ vaccine hesitancy. As a septuagenarian who often hangs out with other septuagenarians I view the rapid development and effectiveness of the COVID vaccine as astounding and a boost for vaccines in general. However, were I much younger I might treat the vaccine’s success with a shrug. After some initial concern, the younger half of the population didn’t seem to see the illness as much of a threat to themselves or their peers. This attitude was reinforced by the fact that few of their peers, including those who were unvaccinated, were getting seriously ill. Despite all the hype, most parents and their children never ended up getting seriously ill.

You can understand why many parents might be quick to toss what you and I consider a successful COVID vaccine onto what they view as a growing pile of vaccines for diseases that in their experience have never sickened or killed anyone they have known.

Let’s be honest: Over the last half century we have produced several generations of parents who have little knowledge and certainly no personal experience with a childhood disease on the order or magnitude of polio. The vaccines that we have developed during their lifetimes have been targeted at diseases such as haemophilus influenzae meningitis that, while serious and anxiety provoking for pediatricians, occur so sporadically that most parents have no personal experience to motivate them to vaccinate their children.

Dr. Emmanuel and Mr. Guido are correct in advocating for the broader elimination of nonmedical exemptions and urging us to find the political will to vigorously enforce the vaccine requirements we have already enacted. I agree that our promotional campaigns need to be more robust. But, this will be a difficult challenge unless we can impress our audience with our straight talk and honesty. We must acknowledge and then explain why all vaccines are not created equal and that some are of more critical importance than others.

We are slowly learning that education isn’t the cure-all for vaccine hesitancy we once thought it was. And using scare tactics can backfire and create dysfunctional anxiety. We must choosing our words and target audience carefully. And ... having the political will to force parents into doing the right thing will be critical if we wish to restore our vaccination rates.

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 have assumed that being a parent has always been an anxiety-producing experience. Even back when the neonatal mortality rate was orders of magnitude greater than we are experiencing now, I suspect that each birth was still accompanied by a period of angst. However, as families no longer felt the need to produce more children to replace those lost to illness, each surviving child fell under the glare of an ever brightening spotlight.

Raising a child no longer became just something that came naturally, learned from one’s parents. Philosophers and eventually physicians felt obligated to advise parents on the best practices. My parents turned to Dr. Benjamin Spock’s classic work when they had a question, but I never got the feeling that they took his words as gospel.

By the time I started in practice the condition of being a parent was morphing into a verb. Books on “parenting” were beginning to fill the shelves of libraries and bookstores. Frustrated by what I saw as poorly conceived instruction manuals I succumbed to the temptation to spread my “better” advice for anxiety-tormented parents by writing books on how to feed picky eaters, or how to get erratic sleepers to sleep, or how to get a misbehaving child to understand the simple concept of “No!”

Back in the pre-Internet days I was competing for the attention of anxiety-driven parents not just with other self-described experts sitting at word processors, but with grandmothers, aunts, and the ladies next door. The book publishing market has cooled but the demand for advice on how to be the best parent has heated up. Into the void, enabled by the Internet, has erupted the phenomenon of social-media mom groups.

The lady next door and the mothers with strollers meeting informally at the playground are a tiny blip on the radar screen compared with the abundance of other mothers eager to listen and comment on social media–based mom groups unlimited by either geographic or temporal time restraints.

Unfortunately, as a recent article in the Wall Street Journal suggests, these support groups can often have a dark side. Researchers from Pepperdine University found in a small survey of a homogenous population of women that stress, as measured by saliva cortisol levels, increased with increasing use of “mom-centric social media” sites.

Citing anecdotal observations by mothers who did not participate in the study, the WSJ article describes episodes of shaming over topics such as steroid use in eczema and vaccine hesitancy. One mother described how she found group discussions about breastfeeding “particularly anxiety-producing.”

I have limited experience with online support groups but I have been surprised by how rude and condescending some of the contributors can be to what I could consider to be emotionally neutral subjects such as outboard motor oil pressure. I can imagine that when it comes to subjects in which there is no one best answer, the relative anonymity of the Internet provides cover for language that can be hurtful and stress inducing for someone already feeling isolated and anxious about being a parent.

Although this Pepperdine study is small, I suspect that a larger study would support the authors’ observations. For us as providers, it suggests that we need to find where parents are getting their information when we are trying to help those who seem particularly distressed. We should caution them that, while sharing information with peers can be reassuring and helpful at times, mom groups can be toxic as well. It also means that we should be careful in recommending social media sites – even those for which we have had good feedback.

And, most importantly, we must continue to work hard to make ourselves available to provide sensible and sensitive answers to those questions that are anxiety-producing for new parents.
 

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 have assumed that being a parent has always been an anxiety-producing experience. Even back when the neonatal mortality rate was orders of magnitude greater than we are experiencing now, I suspect that each birth was still accompanied by a period of angst. However, as families no longer felt the need to produce more children to replace those lost to illness, each surviving child fell under the glare of an ever brightening spotlight.

Raising a child no longer became just something that came naturally, learned from one’s parents. Philosophers and eventually physicians felt obligated to advise parents on the best practices. My parents turned to Dr. Benjamin Spock’s classic work when they had a question, but I never got the feeling that they took his words as gospel.

By the time I started in practice the condition of being a parent was morphing into a verb. Books on “parenting” were beginning to fill the shelves of libraries and bookstores. Frustrated by what I saw as poorly conceived instruction manuals I succumbed to the temptation to spread my “better” advice for anxiety-tormented parents by writing books on how to feed picky eaters, or how to get erratic sleepers to sleep, or how to get a misbehaving child to understand the simple concept of “No!”

Back in the pre-Internet days I was competing for the attention of anxiety-driven parents not just with other self-described experts sitting at word processors, but with grandmothers, aunts, and the ladies next door. The book publishing market has cooled but the demand for advice on how to be the best parent has heated up. Into the void, enabled by the Internet, has erupted the phenomenon of social-media mom groups.

The lady next door and the mothers with strollers meeting informally at the playground are a tiny blip on the radar screen compared with the abundance of other mothers eager to listen and comment on social media–based mom groups unlimited by either geographic or temporal time restraints.

Unfortunately, as a recent article in the Wall Street Journal suggests, these support groups can often have a dark side. Researchers from Pepperdine University found in a small survey of a homogenous population of women that stress, as measured by saliva cortisol levels, increased with increasing use of “mom-centric social media” sites.

Citing anecdotal observations by mothers who did not participate in the study, the WSJ article describes episodes of shaming over topics such as steroid use in eczema and vaccine hesitancy. One mother described how she found group discussions about breastfeeding “particularly anxiety-producing.”

I have limited experience with online support groups but I have been surprised by how rude and condescending some of the contributors can be to what I could consider to be emotionally neutral subjects such as outboard motor oil pressure. I can imagine that when it comes to subjects in which there is no one best answer, the relative anonymity of the Internet provides cover for language that can be hurtful and stress inducing for someone already feeling isolated and anxious about being a parent.

Although this Pepperdine study is small, I suspect that a larger study would support the authors’ observations. For us as providers, it suggests that we need to find where parents are getting their information when we are trying to help those who seem particularly distressed. We should caution them that, while sharing information with peers can be reassuring and helpful at times, mom groups can be toxic as well. It also means that we should be careful in recommending social media sites – even those for which we have had good feedback.

And, most importantly, we must continue to work hard to make ourselves available to provide sensible and sensitive answers to those questions that are anxiety-producing for new parents.
 

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 have assumed that being a parent has always been an anxiety-producing experience. Even back when the neonatal mortality rate was orders of magnitude greater than we are experiencing now, I suspect that each birth was still accompanied by a period of angst. However, as families no longer felt the need to produce more children to replace those lost to illness, each surviving child fell under the glare of an ever brightening spotlight.

Raising a child no longer became just something that came naturally, learned from one’s parents. Philosophers and eventually physicians felt obligated to advise parents on the best practices. My parents turned to Dr. Benjamin Spock’s classic work when they had a question, but I never got the feeling that they took his words as gospel.

By the time I started in practice the condition of being a parent was morphing into a verb. Books on “parenting” were beginning to fill the shelves of libraries and bookstores. Frustrated by what I saw as poorly conceived instruction manuals I succumbed to the temptation to spread my “better” advice for anxiety-tormented parents by writing books on how to feed picky eaters, or how to get erratic sleepers to sleep, or how to get a misbehaving child to understand the simple concept of “No!”

Back in the pre-Internet days I was competing for the attention of anxiety-driven parents not just with other self-described experts sitting at word processors, but with grandmothers, aunts, and the ladies next door. The book publishing market has cooled but the demand for advice on how to be the best parent has heated up. Into the void, enabled by the Internet, has erupted the phenomenon of social-media mom groups.

The lady next door and the mothers with strollers meeting informally at the playground are a tiny blip on the radar screen compared with the abundance of other mothers eager to listen and comment on social media–based mom groups unlimited by either geographic or temporal time restraints.

Unfortunately, as a recent article in the Wall Street Journal suggests, these support groups can often have a dark side. Researchers from Pepperdine University found in a small survey of a homogenous population of women that stress, as measured by saliva cortisol levels, increased with increasing use of “mom-centric social media” sites.

Citing anecdotal observations by mothers who did not participate in the study, the WSJ article describes episodes of shaming over topics such as steroid use in eczema and vaccine hesitancy. One mother described how she found group discussions about breastfeeding “particularly anxiety-producing.”

I have limited experience with online support groups but I have been surprised by how rude and condescending some of the contributors can be to what I could consider to be emotionally neutral subjects such as outboard motor oil pressure. I can imagine that when it comes to subjects in which there is no one best answer, the relative anonymity of the Internet provides cover for language that can be hurtful and stress inducing for someone already feeling isolated and anxious about being a parent.

Although this Pepperdine study is small, I suspect that a larger study would support the authors’ observations. For us as providers, it suggests that we need to find where parents are getting their information when we are trying to help those who seem particularly distressed. We should caution them that, while sharing information with peers can be reassuring and helpful at times, mom groups can be toxic as well. It also means that we should be careful in recommending social media sites – even those for which we have had good feedback.

And, most importantly, we must continue to work hard to make ourselves available to provide sensible and sensitive answers to those questions that are anxiety-producing for new parents.
 

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 years ago I visited my primary care provider in her new office. She had just left the practice where we had been coworkers for over a decade. I was “roomed” by Louise (not her real name) whom I had never met before. I assumed she had come with the new waiting room furniture. She took my vital signs, asked a few boilerplate questions, and told me that my PCP would be in shortly.

After our initial ping-pong match of how-are-things-going I mentioned to my old friend/PCP that I thought Louise needed to work on her person-to-person skills. She thanked me and said there were so many challenges in the new practice setting she hadn’t had a chance to work on staff training.

Courtesy Dr. William G. Wilkoff

When I returned 6 months later Louise was a different person. She appeared and sounded interested in who I was and left me in the room to wait feeling glad I had spoken up. I wasn’t surprised at the change, knowing my former coworker’s past history. I was confident that in time she would coach her new staff and continue to reinforce her message by setting an example by being a caring and concerned physician.

The old Louise certainly wasn’t a rude or unpleasant person but good customer service just didn’t come naturally to her. She thought she was doing a good job, at least as far as she understood what her job was supposed to be. On the whole spectrum of professional misbehavior she would barely warrant a pixel of color. Unfortunately, we are seeing and suffering through a surge of rude behavior and incivility not just in the medical community but across all segments of our society.

It is particularly troubling in health care, which has an organizational nonsystem that was initially paternalistic and male dominated but continues to be hierarchical even as gender stereotypes are becoming less rigid. Rudeness within a team, whether it is a medical office or a factory assembly line, can create a toxic work environment that can affect the quality of the product. In this case the end product is the health and wellness of our patients. While incivility within a team can occasionally be hidden from the patients, eventually it will surface and take its toll on the customer service component of the practice.

One wonders why so many of us are behaving rudely. Is it examples we see in the media, is it our political leaders, or is the pandemic a contributor? Has democracy run its course? Are we victims of our departure from organized religion? Do we need to reorganize our medical training to be less hierarchical? I don’t think there is any single cause nor do I believe we need to restructure our medical training system to remedy the situation. We will always need to transfer information and skills from people who have them to people who need to learn them. If there is a low-hanging fruit in the customer service orchard it is one person at a time deciding to behave in a civil manner toward fellow citizens.

While a colorful crop of political signs arrived in the run-up to the November election, recently, here on the midcoast of Maine, simple white-on-black signs have appeared saying “BE NICE.”

The good news is that being nice can be contagious. Simply think of that golden rule. Treat your patients/customers/coworkers as you would like to be treated yourself.
 

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 years ago I visited my primary care provider in her new office. She had just left the practice where we had been coworkers for over a decade. I was “roomed” by Louise (not her real name) whom I had never met before. I assumed she had come with the new waiting room furniture. She took my vital signs, asked a few boilerplate questions, and told me that my PCP would be in shortly.

After our initial ping-pong match of how-are-things-going I mentioned to my old friend/PCP that I thought Louise needed to work on her person-to-person skills. She thanked me and said there were so many challenges in the new practice setting she hadn’t had a chance to work on staff training.

Courtesy Dr. William G. Wilkoff

When I returned 6 months later Louise was a different person. She appeared and sounded interested in who I was and left me in the room to wait feeling glad I had spoken up. I wasn’t surprised at the change, knowing my former coworker’s past history. I was confident that in time she would coach her new staff and continue to reinforce her message by setting an example by being a caring and concerned physician.

The old Louise certainly wasn’t a rude or unpleasant person but good customer service just didn’t come naturally to her. She thought she was doing a good job, at least as far as she understood what her job was supposed to be. On the whole spectrum of professional misbehavior she would barely warrant a pixel of color. Unfortunately, we are seeing and suffering through a surge of rude behavior and incivility not just in the medical community but across all segments of our society.

It is particularly troubling in health care, which has an organizational nonsystem that was initially paternalistic and male dominated but continues to be hierarchical even as gender stereotypes are becoming less rigid. Rudeness within a team, whether it is a medical office or a factory assembly line, can create a toxic work environment that can affect the quality of the product. In this case the end product is the health and wellness of our patients. While incivility within a team can occasionally be hidden from the patients, eventually it will surface and take its toll on the customer service component of the practice.

One wonders why so many of us are behaving rudely. Is it examples we see in the media, is it our political leaders, or is the pandemic a contributor? Has democracy run its course? Are we victims of our departure from organized religion? Do we need to reorganize our medical training to be less hierarchical? I don’t think there is any single cause nor do I believe we need to restructure our medical training system to remedy the situation. We will always need to transfer information and skills from people who have them to people who need to learn them. If there is a low-hanging fruit in the customer service orchard it is one person at a time deciding to behave in a civil manner toward fellow citizens.

While a colorful crop of political signs arrived in the run-up to the November election, recently, here on the midcoast of Maine, simple white-on-black signs have appeared saying “BE NICE.”

The good news is that being nice can be contagious. Simply think of that golden rule. Treat your patients/customers/coworkers as you would like to be treated yourself.
 

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 years ago I visited my primary care provider in her new office. She had just left the practice where we had been coworkers for over a decade. I was “roomed” by Louise (not her real name) whom I had never met before. I assumed she had come with the new waiting room furniture. She took my vital signs, asked a few boilerplate questions, and told me that my PCP would be in shortly.

After our initial ping-pong match of how-are-things-going I mentioned to my old friend/PCP that I thought Louise needed to work on her person-to-person skills. She thanked me and said there were so many challenges in the new practice setting she hadn’t had a chance to work on staff training.

Courtesy Dr. William G. Wilkoff

When I returned 6 months later Louise was a different person. She appeared and sounded interested in who I was and left me in the room to wait feeling glad I had spoken up. I wasn’t surprised at the change, knowing my former coworker’s past history. I was confident that in time she would coach her new staff and continue to reinforce her message by setting an example by being a caring and concerned physician.

The old Louise certainly wasn’t a rude or unpleasant person but good customer service just didn’t come naturally to her. She thought she was doing a good job, at least as far as she understood what her job was supposed to be. On the whole spectrum of professional misbehavior she would barely warrant a pixel of color. Unfortunately, we are seeing and suffering through a surge of rude behavior and incivility not just in the medical community but across all segments of our society.

It is particularly troubling in health care, which has an organizational nonsystem that was initially paternalistic and male dominated but continues to be hierarchical even as gender stereotypes are becoming less rigid. Rudeness within a team, whether it is a medical office or a factory assembly line, can create a toxic work environment that can affect the quality of the product. In this case the end product is the health and wellness of our patients. While incivility within a team can occasionally be hidden from the patients, eventually it will surface and take its toll on the customer service component of the practice.

One wonders why so many of us are behaving rudely. Is it examples we see in the media, is it our political leaders, or is the pandemic a contributor? Has democracy run its course? Are we victims of our departure from organized religion? Do we need to reorganize our medical training to be less hierarchical? I don’t think there is any single cause nor do I believe we need to restructure our medical training system to remedy the situation. We will always need to transfer information and skills from people who have them to people who need to learn them. If there is a low-hanging fruit in the customer service orchard it is one person at a time deciding to behave in a civil manner toward fellow citizens.

While a colorful crop of political signs arrived in the run-up to the November election, recently, here on the midcoast of Maine, simple white-on-black signs have appeared saying “BE NICE.”

The good news is that being nice can be contagious. Simply think of that golden rule. Treat your patients/customers/coworkers as you would like to be treated yourself.
 

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 column, I cautiously discussed what has been called gender-affirming or transgender care.

In the days following the appearance of that Letters From Maine column on this topic, I received an unusual number of responses from readers suggesting I had touched on a topic that was on the minds of many pediatricians.

Since then, the Florida Board of Medicine and Osteopathic Medicine voted to forbid physicians from prescribing puberty blockers and hormones and/or performing surgeries in patients under age 18 who were seeking transgender care. Children already receiving treatments were exempt from the ruling. The osteopathic board added a second exception in cases where the child was a participant in a research protocol. The board of medicine inexplicably did not include this exception.

Regardless of how one feels about the ethics and the appropriateness of transgender care, it is not an issue to be decided by a politically appointed entity.

As I look back over what I have learned by watching this tragic drama play out, I am struck by a distinction that has yet to receive enough attention. When we are discussing gender dysphoria we are really talking about two different pediatric populations and scenarios. There is the child who from a very young age has consistently preferred to dress and behave in a manner that is different from the gender he or she was assigned at birth. The management of this child is a challenge that requires a careful balance of support and protection from the harsh realities of the gender-regimented world.

The second scenario stars the adolescent who has no prior history of gender dysphoria, or at least no outward manifestations. Then, faced by the challenges of puberty and adolescence, something or things happen that erupt into a full-blown gender-dysphoric storm. We currently have very little understanding of what those “things” are.

Each population can probably be further divided into subgroups – and that’s just the point. Every gender-dysphoric child, whether their dysphoria began at age 2 or 12, is an individual with a unique family dynamic and socioeconomic background. They may share some as yet unknown genetic signature, but in our current state of ignorance they deserve, as do all of our patients, to be treated as individuals by their primary care physicians and consultants who must at first do no harm. One size does not fit all and certainly their care should not be dictated by a politically influenced entity.
 

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 column, I cautiously discussed what has been called gender-affirming or transgender care.

In the days following the appearance of that Letters From Maine column on this topic, I received an unusual number of responses from readers suggesting I had touched on a topic that was on the minds of many pediatricians.

Since then, the Florida Board of Medicine and Osteopathic Medicine voted to forbid physicians from prescribing puberty blockers and hormones and/or performing surgeries in patients under age 18 who were seeking transgender care. Children already receiving treatments were exempt from the ruling. The osteopathic board added a second exception in cases where the child was a participant in a research protocol. The board of medicine inexplicably did not include this exception.

Regardless of how one feels about the ethics and the appropriateness of transgender care, it is not an issue to be decided by a politically appointed entity.

As I look back over what I have learned by watching this tragic drama play out, I am struck by a distinction that has yet to receive enough attention. When we are discussing gender dysphoria we are really talking about two different pediatric populations and scenarios. There is the child who from a very young age has consistently preferred to dress and behave in a manner that is different from the gender he or she was assigned at birth. The management of this child is a challenge that requires a careful balance of support and protection from the harsh realities of the gender-regimented world.

The second scenario stars the adolescent who has no prior history of gender dysphoria, or at least no outward manifestations. Then, faced by the challenges of puberty and adolescence, something or things happen that erupt into a full-blown gender-dysphoric storm. We currently have very little understanding of what those “things” are.

Each population can probably be further divided into subgroups – and that’s just the point. Every gender-dysphoric child, whether their dysphoria began at age 2 or 12, is an individual with a unique family dynamic and socioeconomic background. They may share some as yet unknown genetic signature, but in our current state of ignorance they deserve, as do all of our patients, to be treated as individuals by their primary care physicians and consultants who must at first do no harm. One size does not fit all and certainly their care should not be dictated by a politically influenced entity.
 

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 column, I cautiously discussed what has been called gender-affirming or transgender care.

In the days following the appearance of that Letters From Maine column on this topic, I received an unusual number of responses from readers suggesting I had touched on a topic that was on the minds of many pediatricians.

Since then, the Florida Board of Medicine and Osteopathic Medicine voted to forbid physicians from prescribing puberty blockers and hormones and/or performing surgeries in patients under age 18 who were seeking transgender care. Children already receiving treatments were exempt from the ruling. The osteopathic board added a second exception in cases where the child was a participant in a research protocol. The board of medicine inexplicably did not include this exception.

Regardless of how one feels about the ethics and the appropriateness of transgender care, it is not an issue to be decided by a politically appointed entity.

As I look back over what I have learned by watching this tragic drama play out, I am struck by a distinction that has yet to receive enough attention. When we are discussing gender dysphoria we are really talking about two different pediatric populations and scenarios. There is the child who from a very young age has consistently preferred to dress and behave in a manner that is different from the gender he or she was assigned at birth. The management of this child is a challenge that requires a careful balance of support and protection from the harsh realities of the gender-regimented world.

The second scenario stars the adolescent who has no prior history of gender dysphoria, or at least no outward manifestations. Then, faced by the challenges of puberty and adolescence, something or things happen that erupt into a full-blown gender-dysphoric storm. We currently have very little understanding of what those “things” are.

Each population can probably be further divided into subgroups – and that’s just the point. Every gender-dysphoric child, whether their dysphoria began at age 2 or 12, is an individual with a unique family dynamic and socioeconomic background. They may share some as yet unknown genetic signature, but in our current state of ignorance they deserve, as do all of our patients, to be treated as individuals by their primary care physicians and consultants who must at first do no harm. One size does not fit all and certainly their care should not be dictated by a politically influenced entity.
 

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.