Hospital Medicine

Each night, while my 2-year-old is having her dinner of macaroni and cheese or chicken nuggets, we video chat with my elderly parents. It used to be that this time was mainly my daughter showing off her newfound fork skills, but lately it has become “elderly parent education hour.”

“Well, we’re trying to decide if we should go to the bridge club,” announced my mother early in the week of March 13th.

“No, mom! Under no circumstances should you go to the bridge club! Social distance! Stay home! If I’ve given up restaurants and babysitters and am sitting here every night holding a phone covered in mac and cheese grease, you can give up the bridge club!”

I am all for keeping my elderly parents as isolated as possible during these pandemic times. I wasn’t alone in my fear that they weren’t taking my advice seriously: My social media feed was subsequently filled with posts from other physicians who had also been educating their parents about the need for social distancing.

Then, just as we were all settling into “social distancing,” on March 20, a debate emerged on the opinion pages of The New York Times that took the argument to the next level: A former professor of mine suggested a move from a policy of “horizontal interdiction” (one that restricts the movement of the entire population, without taking risk into consideration) to a “vertical interdiction” strategy that focuses on sequestering those among us most likely to experience poor outcomes from coronavirus infection (eg, the elderly, people with chronic diseases, and the immunologically compromised).¹

This first piece was followed 2 days later on March 22 by an article from a regular New York Times contributor who called social distancing “groupthink” and then seconded the vertical interdiction proposal.² Both pieces referred to the downturn in the economy as the reason the policy would be an improvement on social distancing; they argued that lost jobs and services would cause less suffering and loss than a policy that required extended isolation of the elderly.

On closer inspection, however, vertical interdiction is different and much scarier than “social distancing.” The words used by the author of the original article gave a clue: “If we were to focus on the especially vulnerable, there would be resources to keep them at home, provide them with needed services and coronavirus testing, and direct our medical system to their early care. I would favor proactive rather than reactive testing.” This was not just a plan to keep my parents from the bridge club. This was a plan for forced quarantine, mandatory testing, and months of isolation. Almost immediately, physicians and policy makers identified feasibility problems with the idea.³ To name a few, it is not clear that the death rate in young people is all that low; even with removing elders from the equation, the demand for hospital and critical care services is rapidly overwhelming supply; testing the “herd immunity” hypothesis in real time with a virus that has a death rate of 1%-3% still runs the risk of causing millions of deaths.

I will add a few more reasons why this idea of vertical interdiction was never feasible: There is no existing structure to facilitate mandatory isolation and quarantine of elders. We have no mechanism for caring for elders who are isolated at home. We cannot rapidly design the digital health monitoring needed. We cannot provide the mobile testing proposed. In the case of seniors who require nursing care, the problems would be even greater. Our recent efforts to protect patients in nursing facilities have proven to be extremely difficult. The greatest problem is finding a way to keep the staff from bringing the virus into the facility (and there are many staff: nutrition services, nursing, patient care technicians, physical therapy, social work). The only possible answer to this issue might mean wearing extensive protective equipment, similar to physicians in Wuhan⁴ (full-head hood plus goggles). Imagine being a patient in this scenario: months of being bathed, dressed, fed, and helped to the bathroom by a person in an isolation suit.

Now, just a few weeks later, with the virus spreading and many nonelders on ventilators, the idea of “elderly sequestration” as it was presented in mid-March feels dated and irrelevant. However, the episode can and should teach us a more important lesson: The idea was fatally flawed not only because it was not feasible but primarily because it was so lacking in compassion.

The lack of compassion was not just related to the fact that patients with end-stage dementia will undoubtedly be confused and frightened when confronted with months of care administered by people in hazmat suits. It is also that the proposed policy, by creating pockets of isolation, felt like a setup for missteps and subsequent rampant infection. My first thought was that these policies would not protect vulnerable elders but hide them from view, causing another situation like the one at Lifecare in Kirkland, Washington, which resulted in more than 35 deaths.⁵ This time, our policies (and not just our carelessness) would be responsible for creating it.

While writing this article, sadly, such a thing has happened, just miles from my home. The Soldiers Home in Holyoke, Massachusetts, is a skilled nursing facility that has generally been very highly regarded by veterans and their families. Unfortunately, a lack of responsiveness to the current pandemic, including failure to provide protective equipment, failure to remove symptomatic staff from frontline care, and a lack of transparency about symptomatic staff and patients has resulted in a scandal and a tragedy.⁶ Over 5 days at the end of March, eight veterans died of coronavirus without patients being sent to hospitals and without the cases being reported to either Massachusetts or local officials. Many other patients in the facility also tested positive for coronavirus, as did staff members. While this incident was not driven by a vertical interdiction policy, it was the result of actions taken to isolate and sequester elders from the community. The worst (and most symbolic) injustice was the fact that, because of rules about disposing of bodies with coronavirus (and possibly to cover up the incompetence that led to the deaths), the bodies of deceased veterans were piled into a refrigeration truck sitting in the parking lot of the facility as the tragedy unfolded.

This is a defining moment for physicians, for the healthcare system, and for our society. I am so proud of my colleagues who have stepped up, shown up, worn their (sometimes improvised) personal protective equipment and kept seeing patients because it is our job and it is part of the contract we entered into when we became physicians. Our policy choices in this moment are just as important, and it is not our ability to “get the economy started again” but our sacrifices now (or lack thereof) that will be remembered for a hundred years. Choosing patients over profit, compassion over callousness, are important not just for controlling hospital volumes and reserving intensive care unit beds, but also for preserving our professional integrity and saving our humanity.

Each night, while my 2-year-old is having her dinner of macaroni and cheese or chicken nuggets, we video chat with my elderly parents. It used to be that this time was mainly my daughter showing off her newfound fork skills, but lately it has become “elderly parent education hour.”

“Well, we’re trying to decide if we should go to the bridge club,” announced my mother early in the week of March 13th.

“No, mom! Under no circumstances should you go to the bridge club! Social distance! Stay home! If I’ve given up restaurants and babysitters and am sitting here every night holding a phone covered in mac and cheese grease, you can give up the bridge club!”

I am all for keeping my elderly parents as isolated as possible during these pandemic times. I wasn’t alone in my fear that they weren’t taking my advice seriously: My social media feed was subsequently filled with posts from other physicians who had also been educating their parents about the need for social distancing.

Then, just as we were all settling into “social distancing,” on March 20, a debate emerged on the opinion pages of The New York Times that took the argument to the next level: A former professor of mine suggested a move from a policy of “horizontal interdiction” (one that restricts the movement of the entire population, without taking risk into consideration) to a “vertical interdiction” strategy that focuses on sequestering those among us most likely to experience poor outcomes from coronavirus infection (eg, the elderly, people with chronic diseases, and the immunologically compromised).¹

This first piece was followed 2 days later on March 22 by an article from a regular New York Times contributor who called social distancing “groupthink” and then seconded the vertical interdiction proposal.² Both pieces referred to the downturn in the economy as the reason the policy would be an improvement on social distancing; they argued that lost jobs and services would cause less suffering and loss than a policy that required extended isolation of the elderly.

On closer inspection, however, vertical interdiction is different and much scarier than “social distancing.” The words used by the author of the original article gave a clue: “If we were to focus on the especially vulnerable, there would be resources to keep them at home, provide them with needed services and coronavirus testing, and direct our medical system to their early care. I would favor proactive rather than reactive testing.” This was not just a plan to keep my parents from the bridge club. This was a plan for forced quarantine, mandatory testing, and months of isolation. Almost immediately, physicians and policy makers identified feasibility problems with the idea.³ To name a few, it is not clear that the death rate in young people is all that low; even with removing elders from the equation, the demand for hospital and critical care services is rapidly overwhelming supply; testing the “herd immunity” hypothesis in real time with a virus that has a death rate of 1%-3% still runs the risk of causing millions of deaths.

I will add a few more reasons why this idea of vertical interdiction was never feasible: There is no existing structure to facilitate mandatory isolation and quarantine of elders. We have no mechanism for caring for elders who are isolated at home. We cannot rapidly design the digital health monitoring needed. We cannot provide the mobile testing proposed. In the case of seniors who require nursing care, the problems would be even greater. Our recent efforts to protect patients in nursing facilities have proven to be extremely difficult. The greatest problem is finding a way to keep the staff from bringing the virus into the facility (and there are many staff: nutrition services, nursing, patient care technicians, physical therapy, social work). The only possible answer to this issue might mean wearing extensive protective equipment, similar to physicians in Wuhan⁴ (full-head hood plus goggles). Imagine being a patient in this scenario: months of being bathed, dressed, fed, and helped to the bathroom by a person in an isolation suit.

Now, just a few weeks later, with the virus spreading and many nonelders on ventilators, the idea of “elderly sequestration” as it was presented in mid-March feels dated and irrelevant. However, the episode can and should teach us a more important lesson: The idea was fatally flawed not only because it was not feasible but primarily because it was so lacking in compassion.

The lack of compassion was not just related to the fact that patients with end-stage dementia will undoubtedly be confused and frightened when confronted with months of care administered by people in hazmat suits. It is also that the proposed policy, by creating pockets of isolation, felt like a setup for missteps and subsequent rampant infection. My first thought was that these policies would not protect vulnerable elders but hide them from view, causing another situation like the one at Lifecare in Kirkland, Washington, which resulted in more than 35 deaths.⁵ This time, our policies (and not just our carelessness) would be responsible for creating it.

While writing this article, sadly, such a thing has happened, just miles from my home. The Soldiers Home in Holyoke, Massachusetts, is a skilled nursing facility that has generally been very highly regarded by veterans and their families. Unfortunately, a lack of responsiveness to the current pandemic, including failure to provide protective equipment, failure to remove symptomatic staff from frontline care, and a lack of transparency about symptomatic staff and patients has resulted in a scandal and a tragedy.⁶ Over 5 days at the end of March, eight veterans died of coronavirus without patients being sent to hospitals and without the cases being reported to either Massachusetts or local officials. Many other patients in the facility also tested positive for coronavirus, as did staff members. While this incident was not driven by a vertical interdiction policy, it was the result of actions taken to isolate and sequester elders from the community. The worst (and most symbolic) injustice was the fact that, because of rules about disposing of bodies with coronavirus (and possibly to cover up the incompetence that led to the deaths), the bodies of deceased veterans were piled into a refrigeration truck sitting in the parking lot of the facility as the tragedy unfolded.

This is a defining moment for physicians, for the healthcare system, and for our society. I am so proud of my colleagues who have stepped up, shown up, worn their (sometimes improvised) personal protective equipment and kept seeing patients because it is our job and it is part of the contract we entered into when we became physicians. Our policy choices in this moment are just as important, and it is not our ability to “get the economy started again” but our sacrifices now (or lack thereof) that will be remembered for a hundred years. Choosing patients over profit, compassion over callousness, are important not just for controlling hospital volumes and reserving intensive care unit beds, but also for preserving our professional integrity and saving our humanity.

Each night, while my 2-year-old is having her dinner of macaroni and cheese or chicken nuggets, we video chat with my elderly parents. It used to be that this time was mainly my daughter showing off her newfound fork skills, but lately it has become “elderly parent education hour.”

“Well, we’re trying to decide if we should go to the bridge club,” announced my mother early in the week of March 13th.

“No, mom! Under no circumstances should you go to the bridge club! Social distance! Stay home! If I’ve given up restaurants and babysitters and am sitting here every night holding a phone covered in mac and cheese grease, you can give up the bridge club!”

I am all for keeping my elderly parents as isolated as possible during these pandemic times. I wasn’t alone in my fear that they weren’t taking my advice seriously: My social media feed was subsequently filled with posts from other physicians who had also been educating their parents about the need for social distancing.

Then, just as we were all settling into “social distancing,” on March 20, a debate emerged on the opinion pages of The New York Times that took the argument to the next level: A former professor of mine suggested a move from a policy of “horizontal interdiction” (one that restricts the movement of the entire population, without taking risk into consideration) to a “vertical interdiction” strategy that focuses on sequestering those among us most likely to experience poor outcomes from coronavirus infection (eg, the elderly, people with chronic diseases, and the immunologically compromised).¹

This first piece was followed 2 days later on March 22 by an article from a regular New York Times contributor who called social distancing “groupthink” and then seconded the vertical interdiction proposal.² Both pieces referred to the downturn in the economy as the reason the policy would be an improvement on social distancing; they argued that lost jobs and services would cause less suffering and loss than a policy that required extended isolation of the elderly.

On closer inspection, however, vertical interdiction is different and much scarier than “social distancing.” The words used by the author of the original article gave a clue: “If we were to focus on the especially vulnerable, there would be resources to keep them at home, provide them with needed services and coronavirus testing, and direct our medical system to their early care. I would favor proactive rather than reactive testing.” This was not just a plan to keep my parents from the bridge club. This was a plan for forced quarantine, mandatory testing, and months of isolation. Almost immediately, physicians and policy makers identified feasibility problems with the idea.³ To name a few, it is not clear that the death rate in young people is all that low; even with removing elders from the equation, the demand for hospital and critical care services is rapidly overwhelming supply; testing the “herd immunity” hypothesis in real time with a virus that has a death rate of 1%-3% still runs the risk of causing millions of deaths.

I will add a few more reasons why this idea of vertical interdiction was never feasible: There is no existing structure to facilitate mandatory isolation and quarantine of elders. We have no mechanism for caring for elders who are isolated at home. We cannot rapidly design the digital health monitoring needed. We cannot provide the mobile testing proposed. In the case of seniors who require nursing care, the problems would be even greater. Our recent efforts to protect patients in nursing facilities have proven to be extremely difficult. The greatest problem is finding a way to keep the staff from bringing the virus into the facility (and there are many staff: nutrition services, nursing, patient care technicians, physical therapy, social work). The only possible answer to this issue might mean wearing extensive protective equipment, similar to physicians in Wuhan⁴ (full-head hood plus goggles). Imagine being a patient in this scenario: months of being bathed, dressed, fed, and helped to the bathroom by a person in an isolation suit.

Now, just a few weeks later, with the virus spreading and many nonelders on ventilators, the idea of “elderly sequestration” as it was presented in mid-March feels dated and irrelevant. However, the episode can and should teach us a more important lesson: The idea was fatally flawed not only because it was not feasible but primarily because it was so lacking in compassion.

The lack of compassion was not just related to the fact that patients with end-stage dementia will undoubtedly be confused and frightened when confronted with months of care administered by people in hazmat suits. It is also that the proposed policy, by creating pockets of isolation, felt like a setup for missteps and subsequent rampant infection. My first thought was that these policies would not protect vulnerable elders but hide them from view, causing another situation like the one at Lifecare in Kirkland, Washington, which resulted in more than 35 deaths.⁵ This time, our policies (and not just our carelessness) would be responsible for creating it.

While writing this article, sadly, such a thing has happened, just miles from my home. The Soldiers Home in Holyoke, Massachusetts, is a skilled nursing facility that has generally been very highly regarded by veterans and their families. Unfortunately, a lack of responsiveness to the current pandemic, including failure to provide protective equipment, failure to remove symptomatic staff from frontline care, and a lack of transparency about symptomatic staff and patients has resulted in a scandal and a tragedy.⁶ Over 5 days at the end of March, eight veterans died of coronavirus without patients being sent to hospitals and without the cases being reported to either Massachusetts or local officials. Many other patients in the facility also tested positive for coronavirus, as did staff members. While this incident was not driven by a vertical interdiction policy, it was the result of actions taken to isolate and sequester elders from the community. The worst (and most symbolic) injustice was the fact that, because of rules about disposing of bodies with coronavirus (and possibly to cover up the incompetence that led to the deaths), the bodies of deceased veterans were piled into a refrigeration truck sitting in the parking lot of the facility as the tragedy unfolded.

This is a defining moment for physicians, for the healthcare system, and for our society. I am so proud of my colleagues who have stepped up, shown up, worn their (sometimes improvised) personal protective equipment and kept seeing patients because it is our job and it is part of the contract we entered into when we became physicians. Our policy choices in this moment are just as important, and it is not our ability to “get the economy started again” but our sacrifices now (or lack thereof) that will be remembered for a hundred years. Choosing patients over profit, compassion over callousness, are important not just for controlling hospital volumes and reserving intensive care unit beds, but also for preserving our professional integrity and saving our humanity.

One of the worst public health threats of our generation, coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), first emerged in Wuhan, China, in December 2019 and quickly spread to Singapore, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. These three countries have been praised for their control of the pandemic,^1,2 while the number of cases worldwide, including those in the United States, has soared. Political alignment, centralized and integrated healthcare systems, small size, effective technology deployment, widespread testing combined with contact tracing and isolation, and personal protective equipment (PPE) availability underscore their successes.^1,3-5 Although these factors differ starkly from those currently employed in the United States, a better understanding their experience may positively influence the myriad US responses. We describe some salient features of Singapore’s infection preparedness, provide examples of how these features guided the National University Hospital (NUH) Singapore COVID-19 response, and illustrate how one facet of the NUH response was translated to develop a new care model at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF).

Singapore, a small island country (278 square miles) city-state in Southeast Asia has a population of 5.8 million people. Most Singaporeans receive their inpatient care in the public hospitals that are organized and resourced through the Singapore Ministry of Health (MOH). In 2003, severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) infected 238 people and killed 33 over 3 months in Singapore, which led to a significant economic downturn. Singapore’s initial SARS experience unveiled limitations in infrastructure, staff preparedness, virus control methodology, and centralized crisis systems. Lessons gleaned from the SARS experience laid the foundation for Singapore’s subsequent disaster preparedness.⁶

Post-SARS, the MOH created structures and systems to prepare Singapore for future epidemics. All public hospitals expanded isolation capacity by constructing new units or repurposing existing ones and creating colocated Emergency Department (ED) isolation facilities. Additionally, the MOH commissioned the National Centre for Infectious Diseases, a 330-bed high-level isolation hospital.⁷ They also mandated hospital systems to regularly practice mass casualty and infectious (including respiratory) crisis responses through externally evaluated simulation.⁸ These are orchestrated down to the smallest detail and involve staff at all levels. For example, healthcare workers (HCW) being “deployed” outside of their specialty, housekeepers practicing novel hazardous waste disposal, and security guards managing crowds interact throughout the exercise.

The testing and viral spread control challenges during SARS spawned hospital-system epidemiology capacity building. Infectious diseases reporting guidelines were refined, and communication channels enhanced to include cross-hospital information sharing and direct lines of communication for epidemiology groups to and from the MOH. Enhanced contact tracing methodologies were adopted and practiced regularly. In addition, material stockpiles, supplies, and supply chains were recalibrated.

The Singapore government also adopted the Disease Outbreak Response System Condition (DORSCON) system,⁹ a color-coded framework for pandemic response that guides activation of crisis interventions broadly (such as temperature screening at airports and restrictions to travel and internal movements), as well as within the healthcare setting.

In addition to prompting these notable preparedness efforts, SARS had a palpable impact on Singaporeans’ collective psychology both within and outside of the hospital system. The very close-knit medical community lost colleagues during the crisis, and the larger community deeply felt the health and economic costs of this crisis.¹⁰ The resulting “respect” or “healthy fear” for infectious crises continues to the present day.

The NUH is a 1,200-bed public tertiary care academic health center in Singapore. Before the first COVID-19 case was diagnosed in Singapore, NUH joined forces with its broader health system, university resources (schools of medicine and public health), and international partners to refine the existing structures and systems in response to this new infectious threat.

One of these structures included the existing NUH ED negative-pressure “fever facility.” In the ED triage, patients are routinely screened for infectious diseases such as H1N1, MERS-CoV, and measles. In early January, these screening criteria were evolved to adapt to COVID-19. High-risk patients bypass common waiting areas and are sent directly to the fever facility for management. From there, patients requiring admission are sent to one of the inpatient isolation wards, each with over 21 negative-pressure isolation rooms. To expand isolation capacity, lower-priority patients were relocated, and the existing negative- and neutral-pressure rooms were converted into COVID-19 pandemic wards.

The pandemic wards are staffed by nurses with previous isolation experience and Internal Medicine and Subspecialty Medicine physicians and trainees working closely with Infectious Diseases experts. Pandemic Ward teams are sequestered from other clinical and administrative teams, wear hospital-­laundered scrubs, and use PPE-conserving practices. These strategies, implemented at the outset, are based on international guidelines contextualized to local needs and include extended use (up to 6 hours) of N95 respirators for the pandemic wards, and surgical masks in all other clinical areas. Notably, there have been no documented transmissions to HCW or patients at NUH. The workforce was maximized by limiting nonurgent clinical, administrative, research, and teaching activities.

In February, COVID-19 testing was initiated internally and deployed widely. NUH, at the time of this writing, has performed more than 6,000 swabs with up to 200 tests run per day (with 80 confirmed cases). Testing at this scale has allowed NUH to ensure: (a) prompt isolation of patients, even those with mild symptoms, (b) deisolation of those testing negative thus conserving PPE and isolation facilities, (c) a better understanding of the epidemiology and the wide range of clinical manifestations of COVID-19, and (d) early comprehensive contact tracing including mildly symptomatic patients.

The MOH plays a central role in coordinating COVID-19 activities and supports individual hospital systems such as NUH. Some of their crisis leadership strategies include daily text messages distributed countrywide, two-way communication channels that ensure feedback loops with hospital executives, epidemiology specialists, and operational workgroups, and engendering interhospital collaboration.¹¹

In the United States, the Joint Commission provides structures, tools, and processes for hospital systems to prepare for disasters.¹² Many hospital systems have experience with natural disasters which, similar to Singapore’s planning, ensures structures and systems are in place during a crisis. Although these are transferable to multiple types of disasters, the US healthcare system’s direct experience with infectious crises is limited. A fairly distinctive facet—and an asset of US healthcare—is the role of hospitalists.

Hospitalists care for the majority of medical inpatients across the United States,¹³ and as such, they currently, and will increasingly, play a major role in the US COVID-19 response. This is the case at the UCSF Helen Diller Medical Center at Parnassus Heights (UCSFMC), a 600-bed academic medical center. To learn from other’s early experiences with COVID-19, UCSF Health System leadership connected with many outside health systems including NUH. As one of its multiple pandemic responses, they engaged the UCSFMC Division of Hospital Medicine (DHM), a division that includes 117 hospitalists, to work with hospital and health system leadership and launch a respiratory isolation unit (RIU) modeled after the NUH pandemic ward. The aim of the RIU is to group inpatients with either confirmed or suspected COVID-19 patients who do not require critical care.

An interdisciplinary work group comprising hospitalists, infectious disease specialists, emergency department clinicians, nursing, rehabilitation experts, hospital epidemiology and infection-prevention leaders, safety specialists, and systems engineers was assembled to repurpose an existing medical unit and establish new care models for the RIU. This workgroup created clinical guidelines and workflows, and RIU leaders actively solicit feedback from the staff to advance these standards.

Hospitalists and nurses who volunteered to work on the UCSF attending-staffed RIU received extensive training, including online and widely available in-person PPE training delivered by infection-prevention experts. The RIU hospitalists engage with hospitalists nationwide through ongoing conference calls to share best practices and clinical cases. Patients are admitted by hospitalists to the RIU via the emergency department or directly from ambulatory sites. All RIU providers and staff are screened daily for symptoms prior to starting their shifts, wear hospital-laundered scrubs on the unit, and remain on the unit for the duration of their shift. Hospitalists and nurses communicate regularly to cluster their patient visits and interventions while specialists provide virtual consults (as deemed safe and appropriate) to optimize PPE conservation and decrease overall exposure. The Health System establishes and revises PPE protocols based on CDC guidelines, best available evidence, and supply chain realities. These guidelines are evolving and currently include surgical mask, gown, gloves, and eye protection for all patient interactions with suspected or confirmed COVID-19 and respirator use during aerosol-generating procedures. Research studies (eg, clinical trials and evaluations), informatics efforts (eg, patient flow dashboards), and healthcare technology innovations (eg, tablets for telehealth and video visits) are continually integrated into the RIU infrastructure. Robust attention to the well-being of everyone working on the unit includes chaplain visits, daily debriefs, meal delivery, and palliative care service support, which enrich the unit experience and instill a culture of unity.

The structures and systems born out of the 2003 SARS experience and the “test, trace, and isolate” strategy were arguably key drivers to flatten Singapore’s epidemic curve early in the pandemic.³ Even with these in place, Singapore is now experiencing a second wave with a significantly higher caseload.¹⁴ In response, the government instituted strict social distancing measures on April 3, closing schools and most workplaces. This suggests that the COVID-19 pandemic may fluctuate over time and that varying types and levels of interventions will be required to maintain long-term control. The NUH team describes experiencing cognitive overload given the ever-changing nature and volume of information and fatigue due to the effort required and duration of this crisis. New programs addressing these challenges are being developed and rapidly deployed.

Despite early testing limitations and newly minted systems, San Francisco is cautiously optimistic about its epidemic curve. Since the March 17, 2020, “shelter in place” order, COVID-19 hospitalizations have remained manageable and constant.¹⁵ This has afforded healthcare systems including UCSF critical time to evolve its clinical operations (eg, the RIU) and to leverage its academic culture coordinating its bench research, global health, epidemiology, clinical research, informatics, and clinical enterprise scholars and experts to advance COVID-19 science and inform pandemic solutions. Although the UCSF frontline teams are challenged by the stresses of being in the throes of the pandemic amidst a rapidly changing landscape (including changes in PPE and testing recommendations specifically), they are working together to build team resilience for what may come.

The world is facing a pandemic of tremendous proportions, and the United States is in the midst of a wave the height of which is yet to be seen. As Fisher and colleagues wrote in 2011, “Our response to infectious disease outbreaks is born out of past experience.”⁴ Singapore and NUH’s structures and systems that were put into place demonstrate this—they are timely, have been effective thus far, and will be tested in this next wave. “However, no two outbreaks are the same,” the authors wrote, “so an understanding of the infectious agent as well as the environment confronting it is fundamental to the response.”⁴ In the United States, hospitalists are a key asset in our environment to confront this virus. The UCSF experience exemplifies that, by combining new ideas from another system with on-the-ground expertise while working hand-in-hand with the hospital and health system, hospitalists can be a critical facet of the pandemic response. Hospitalists’ intrinsic abilities to collaborate, learn, and innovate will enable them to not only meet this challenge now but also to transform practices and capacities to respond to crises into the future.

Acknowledgment

Bradley Sharpe, MD, Division Chief, Division of Hospital Medicine, University of California, San Francisco, California, for his input on conception and critical review of this manuscript.

One of the worst public health threats of our generation, coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), first emerged in Wuhan, China, in December 2019 and quickly spread to Singapore, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. These three countries have been praised for their control of the pandemic,^1,2 while the number of cases worldwide, including those in the United States, has soared. Political alignment, centralized and integrated healthcare systems, small size, effective technology deployment, widespread testing combined with contact tracing and isolation, and personal protective equipment (PPE) availability underscore their successes.^1,3-5 Although these factors differ starkly from those currently employed in the United States, a better understanding their experience may positively influence the myriad US responses. We describe some salient features of Singapore’s infection preparedness, provide examples of how these features guided the National University Hospital (NUH) Singapore COVID-19 response, and illustrate how one facet of the NUH response was translated to develop a new care model at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF).

Singapore, a small island country (278 square miles) city-state in Southeast Asia has a population of 5.8 million people. Most Singaporeans receive their inpatient care in the public hospitals that are organized and resourced through the Singapore Ministry of Health (MOH). In 2003, severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) infected 238 people and killed 33 over 3 months in Singapore, which led to a significant economic downturn. Singapore’s initial SARS experience unveiled limitations in infrastructure, staff preparedness, virus control methodology, and centralized crisis systems. Lessons gleaned from the SARS experience laid the foundation for Singapore’s subsequent disaster preparedness.⁶

Post-SARS, the MOH created structures and systems to prepare Singapore for future epidemics. All public hospitals expanded isolation capacity by constructing new units or repurposing existing ones and creating colocated Emergency Department (ED) isolation facilities. Additionally, the MOH commissioned the National Centre for Infectious Diseases, a 330-bed high-level isolation hospital.⁷ They also mandated hospital systems to regularly practice mass casualty and infectious (including respiratory) crisis responses through externally evaluated simulation.⁸ These are orchestrated down to the smallest detail and involve staff at all levels. For example, healthcare workers (HCW) being “deployed” outside of their specialty, housekeepers practicing novel hazardous waste disposal, and security guards managing crowds interact throughout the exercise.

The testing and viral spread control challenges during SARS spawned hospital-system epidemiology capacity building. Infectious diseases reporting guidelines were refined, and communication channels enhanced to include cross-hospital information sharing and direct lines of communication for epidemiology groups to and from the MOH. Enhanced contact tracing methodologies were adopted and practiced regularly. In addition, material stockpiles, supplies, and supply chains were recalibrated.

The Singapore government also adopted the Disease Outbreak Response System Condition (DORSCON) system,⁹ a color-coded framework for pandemic response that guides activation of crisis interventions broadly (such as temperature screening at airports and restrictions to travel and internal movements), as well as within the healthcare setting.

In addition to prompting these notable preparedness efforts, SARS had a palpable impact on Singaporeans’ collective psychology both within and outside of the hospital system. The very close-knit medical community lost colleagues during the crisis, and the larger community deeply felt the health and economic costs of this crisis.¹⁰ The resulting “respect” or “healthy fear” for infectious crises continues to the present day.

The NUH is a 1,200-bed public tertiary care academic health center in Singapore. Before the first COVID-19 case was diagnosed in Singapore, NUH joined forces with its broader health system, university resources (schools of medicine and public health), and international partners to refine the existing structures and systems in response to this new infectious threat.

One of these structures included the existing NUH ED negative-pressure “fever facility.” In the ED triage, patients are routinely screened for infectious diseases such as H1N1, MERS-CoV, and measles. In early January, these screening criteria were evolved to adapt to COVID-19. High-risk patients bypass common waiting areas and are sent directly to the fever facility for management. From there, patients requiring admission are sent to one of the inpatient isolation wards, each with over 21 negative-pressure isolation rooms. To expand isolation capacity, lower-priority patients were relocated, and the existing negative- and neutral-pressure rooms were converted into COVID-19 pandemic wards.

The pandemic wards are staffed by nurses with previous isolation experience and Internal Medicine and Subspecialty Medicine physicians and trainees working closely with Infectious Diseases experts. Pandemic Ward teams are sequestered from other clinical and administrative teams, wear hospital-­laundered scrubs, and use PPE-conserving practices. These strategies, implemented at the outset, are based on international guidelines contextualized to local needs and include extended use (up to 6 hours) of N95 respirators for the pandemic wards, and surgical masks in all other clinical areas. Notably, there have been no documented transmissions to HCW or patients at NUH. The workforce was maximized by limiting nonurgent clinical, administrative, research, and teaching activities.

In February, COVID-19 testing was initiated internally and deployed widely. NUH, at the time of this writing, has performed more than 6,000 swabs with up to 200 tests run per day (with 80 confirmed cases). Testing at this scale has allowed NUH to ensure: (a) prompt isolation of patients, even those with mild symptoms, (b) deisolation of those testing negative thus conserving PPE and isolation facilities, (c) a better understanding of the epidemiology and the wide range of clinical manifestations of COVID-19, and (d) early comprehensive contact tracing including mildly symptomatic patients.

The MOH plays a central role in coordinating COVID-19 activities and supports individual hospital systems such as NUH. Some of their crisis leadership strategies include daily text messages distributed countrywide, two-way communication channels that ensure feedback loops with hospital executives, epidemiology specialists, and operational workgroups, and engendering interhospital collaboration.¹¹

In the United States, the Joint Commission provides structures, tools, and processes for hospital systems to prepare for disasters.¹² Many hospital systems have experience with natural disasters which, similar to Singapore’s planning, ensures structures and systems are in place during a crisis. Although these are transferable to multiple types of disasters, the US healthcare system’s direct experience with infectious crises is limited. A fairly distinctive facet—and an asset of US healthcare—is the role of hospitalists.

Hospitalists care for the majority of medical inpatients across the United States,¹³ and as such, they currently, and will increasingly, play a major role in the US COVID-19 response. This is the case at the UCSF Helen Diller Medical Center at Parnassus Heights (UCSFMC), a 600-bed academic medical center. To learn from other’s early experiences with COVID-19, UCSF Health System leadership connected with many outside health systems including NUH. As one of its multiple pandemic responses, they engaged the UCSFMC Division of Hospital Medicine (DHM), a division that includes 117 hospitalists, to work with hospital and health system leadership and launch a respiratory isolation unit (RIU) modeled after the NUH pandemic ward. The aim of the RIU is to group inpatients with either confirmed or suspected COVID-19 patients who do not require critical care.

An interdisciplinary work group comprising hospitalists, infectious disease specialists, emergency department clinicians, nursing, rehabilitation experts, hospital epidemiology and infection-prevention leaders, safety specialists, and systems engineers was assembled to repurpose an existing medical unit and establish new care models for the RIU. This workgroup created clinical guidelines and workflows, and RIU leaders actively solicit feedback from the staff to advance these standards.

Hospitalists and nurses who volunteered to work on the UCSF attending-staffed RIU received extensive training, including online and widely available in-person PPE training delivered by infection-prevention experts. The RIU hospitalists engage with hospitalists nationwide through ongoing conference calls to share best practices and clinical cases. Patients are admitted by hospitalists to the RIU via the emergency department or directly from ambulatory sites. All RIU providers and staff are screened daily for symptoms prior to starting their shifts, wear hospital-laundered scrubs on the unit, and remain on the unit for the duration of their shift. Hospitalists and nurses communicate regularly to cluster their patient visits and interventions while specialists provide virtual consults (as deemed safe and appropriate) to optimize PPE conservation and decrease overall exposure. The Health System establishes and revises PPE protocols based on CDC guidelines, best available evidence, and supply chain realities. These guidelines are evolving and currently include surgical mask, gown, gloves, and eye protection for all patient interactions with suspected or confirmed COVID-19 and respirator use during aerosol-generating procedures. Research studies (eg, clinical trials and evaluations), informatics efforts (eg, patient flow dashboards), and healthcare technology innovations (eg, tablets for telehealth and video visits) are continually integrated into the RIU infrastructure. Robust attention to the well-being of everyone working on the unit includes chaplain visits, daily debriefs, meal delivery, and palliative care service support, which enrich the unit experience and instill a culture of unity.

The structures and systems born out of the 2003 SARS experience and the “test, trace, and isolate” strategy were arguably key drivers to flatten Singapore’s epidemic curve early in the pandemic.³ Even with these in place, Singapore is now experiencing a second wave with a significantly higher caseload.¹⁴ In response, the government instituted strict social distancing measures on April 3, closing schools and most workplaces. This suggests that the COVID-19 pandemic may fluctuate over time and that varying types and levels of interventions will be required to maintain long-term control. The NUH team describes experiencing cognitive overload given the ever-changing nature and volume of information and fatigue due to the effort required and duration of this crisis. New programs addressing these challenges are being developed and rapidly deployed.

Despite early testing limitations and newly minted systems, San Francisco is cautiously optimistic about its epidemic curve. Since the March 17, 2020, “shelter in place” order, COVID-19 hospitalizations have remained manageable and constant.¹⁵ This has afforded healthcare systems including UCSF critical time to evolve its clinical operations (eg, the RIU) and to leverage its academic culture coordinating its bench research, global health, epidemiology, clinical research, informatics, and clinical enterprise scholars and experts to advance COVID-19 science and inform pandemic solutions. Although the UCSF frontline teams are challenged by the stresses of being in the throes of the pandemic amidst a rapidly changing landscape (including changes in PPE and testing recommendations specifically), they are working together to build team resilience for what may come.

The world is facing a pandemic of tremendous proportions, and the United States is in the midst of a wave the height of which is yet to be seen. As Fisher and colleagues wrote in 2011, “Our response to infectious disease outbreaks is born out of past experience.”⁴ Singapore and NUH’s structures and systems that were put into place demonstrate this—they are timely, have been effective thus far, and will be tested in this next wave. “However, no two outbreaks are the same,” the authors wrote, “so an understanding of the infectious agent as well as the environment confronting it is fundamental to the response.”⁴ In the United States, hospitalists are a key asset in our environment to confront this virus. The UCSF experience exemplifies that, by combining new ideas from another system with on-the-ground expertise while working hand-in-hand with the hospital and health system, hospitalists can be a critical facet of the pandemic response. Hospitalists’ intrinsic abilities to collaborate, learn, and innovate will enable them to not only meet this challenge now but also to transform practices and capacities to respond to crises into the future.

Acknowledgment

Bradley Sharpe, MD, Division Chief, Division of Hospital Medicine, University of California, San Francisco, California, for his input on conception and critical review of this manuscript.

One of the worst public health threats of our generation, coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), first emerged in Wuhan, China, in December 2019 and quickly spread to Singapore, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. These three countries have been praised for their control of the pandemic,^1,2 while the number of cases worldwide, including those in the United States, has soared. Political alignment, centralized and integrated healthcare systems, small size, effective technology deployment, widespread testing combined with contact tracing and isolation, and personal protective equipment (PPE) availability underscore their successes.^1,3-5 Although these factors differ starkly from those currently employed in the United States, a better understanding their experience may positively influence the myriad US responses. We describe some salient features of Singapore’s infection preparedness, provide examples of how these features guided the National University Hospital (NUH) Singapore COVID-19 response, and illustrate how one facet of the NUH response was translated to develop a new care model at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF).

Singapore, a small island country (278 square miles) city-state in Southeast Asia has a population of 5.8 million people. Most Singaporeans receive their inpatient care in the public hospitals that are organized and resourced through the Singapore Ministry of Health (MOH). In 2003, severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) infected 238 people and killed 33 over 3 months in Singapore, which led to a significant economic downturn. Singapore’s initial SARS experience unveiled limitations in infrastructure, staff preparedness, virus control methodology, and centralized crisis systems. Lessons gleaned from the SARS experience laid the foundation for Singapore’s subsequent disaster preparedness.⁶

Post-SARS, the MOH created structures and systems to prepare Singapore for future epidemics. All public hospitals expanded isolation capacity by constructing new units or repurposing existing ones and creating colocated Emergency Department (ED) isolation facilities. Additionally, the MOH commissioned the National Centre for Infectious Diseases, a 330-bed high-level isolation hospital.⁷ They also mandated hospital systems to regularly practice mass casualty and infectious (including respiratory) crisis responses through externally evaluated simulation.⁸ These are orchestrated down to the smallest detail and involve staff at all levels. For example, healthcare workers (HCW) being “deployed” outside of their specialty, housekeepers practicing novel hazardous waste disposal, and security guards managing crowds interact throughout the exercise.

The testing and viral spread control challenges during SARS spawned hospital-system epidemiology capacity building. Infectious diseases reporting guidelines were refined, and communication channels enhanced to include cross-hospital information sharing and direct lines of communication for epidemiology groups to and from the MOH. Enhanced contact tracing methodologies were adopted and practiced regularly. In addition, material stockpiles, supplies, and supply chains were recalibrated.

The Singapore government also adopted the Disease Outbreak Response System Condition (DORSCON) system,⁹ a color-coded framework for pandemic response that guides activation of crisis interventions broadly (such as temperature screening at airports and restrictions to travel and internal movements), as well as within the healthcare setting.

In addition to prompting these notable preparedness efforts, SARS had a palpable impact on Singaporeans’ collective psychology both within and outside of the hospital system. The very close-knit medical community lost colleagues during the crisis, and the larger community deeply felt the health and economic costs of this crisis.¹⁰ The resulting “respect” or “healthy fear” for infectious crises continues to the present day.

The NUH is a 1,200-bed public tertiary care academic health center in Singapore. Before the first COVID-19 case was diagnosed in Singapore, NUH joined forces with its broader health system, university resources (schools of medicine and public health), and international partners to refine the existing structures and systems in response to this new infectious threat.

One of these structures included the existing NUH ED negative-pressure “fever facility.” In the ED triage, patients are routinely screened for infectious diseases such as H1N1, MERS-CoV, and measles. In early January, these screening criteria were evolved to adapt to COVID-19. High-risk patients bypass common waiting areas and are sent directly to the fever facility for management. From there, patients requiring admission are sent to one of the inpatient isolation wards, each with over 21 negative-pressure isolation rooms. To expand isolation capacity, lower-priority patients were relocated, and the existing negative- and neutral-pressure rooms were converted into COVID-19 pandemic wards.

The pandemic wards are staffed by nurses with previous isolation experience and Internal Medicine and Subspecialty Medicine physicians and trainees working closely with Infectious Diseases experts. Pandemic Ward teams are sequestered from other clinical and administrative teams, wear hospital-­laundered scrubs, and use PPE-conserving practices. These strategies, implemented at the outset, are based on international guidelines contextualized to local needs and include extended use (up to 6 hours) of N95 respirators for the pandemic wards, and surgical masks in all other clinical areas. Notably, there have been no documented transmissions to HCW or patients at NUH. The workforce was maximized by limiting nonurgent clinical, administrative, research, and teaching activities.

In February, COVID-19 testing was initiated internally and deployed widely. NUH, at the time of this writing, has performed more than 6,000 swabs with up to 200 tests run per day (with 80 confirmed cases). Testing at this scale has allowed NUH to ensure: (a) prompt isolation of patients, even those with mild symptoms, (b) deisolation of those testing negative thus conserving PPE and isolation facilities, (c) a better understanding of the epidemiology and the wide range of clinical manifestations of COVID-19, and (d) early comprehensive contact tracing including mildly symptomatic patients.

The MOH plays a central role in coordinating COVID-19 activities and supports individual hospital systems such as NUH. Some of their crisis leadership strategies include daily text messages distributed countrywide, two-way communication channels that ensure feedback loops with hospital executives, epidemiology specialists, and operational workgroups, and engendering interhospital collaboration.¹¹

In the United States, the Joint Commission provides structures, tools, and processes for hospital systems to prepare for disasters.¹² Many hospital systems have experience with natural disasters which, similar to Singapore’s planning, ensures structures and systems are in place during a crisis. Although these are transferable to multiple types of disasters, the US healthcare system’s direct experience with infectious crises is limited. A fairly distinctive facet—and an asset of US healthcare—is the role of hospitalists.

Hospitalists care for the majority of medical inpatients across the United States,¹³ and as such, they currently, and will increasingly, play a major role in the US COVID-19 response. This is the case at the UCSF Helen Diller Medical Center at Parnassus Heights (UCSFMC), a 600-bed academic medical center. To learn from other’s early experiences with COVID-19, UCSF Health System leadership connected with many outside health systems including NUH. As one of its multiple pandemic responses, they engaged the UCSFMC Division of Hospital Medicine (DHM), a division that includes 117 hospitalists, to work with hospital and health system leadership and launch a respiratory isolation unit (RIU) modeled after the NUH pandemic ward. The aim of the RIU is to group inpatients with either confirmed or suspected COVID-19 patients who do not require critical care.

An interdisciplinary work group comprising hospitalists, infectious disease specialists, emergency department clinicians, nursing, rehabilitation experts, hospital epidemiology and infection-prevention leaders, safety specialists, and systems engineers was assembled to repurpose an existing medical unit and establish new care models for the RIU. This workgroup created clinical guidelines and workflows, and RIU leaders actively solicit feedback from the staff to advance these standards.

Hospitalists and nurses who volunteered to work on the UCSF attending-staffed RIU received extensive training, including online and widely available in-person PPE training delivered by infection-prevention experts. The RIU hospitalists engage with hospitalists nationwide through ongoing conference calls to share best practices and clinical cases. Patients are admitted by hospitalists to the RIU via the emergency department or directly from ambulatory sites. All RIU providers and staff are screened daily for symptoms prior to starting their shifts, wear hospital-laundered scrubs on the unit, and remain on the unit for the duration of their shift. Hospitalists and nurses communicate regularly to cluster their patient visits and interventions while specialists provide virtual consults (as deemed safe and appropriate) to optimize PPE conservation and decrease overall exposure. The Health System establishes and revises PPE protocols based on CDC guidelines, best available evidence, and supply chain realities. These guidelines are evolving and currently include surgical mask, gown, gloves, and eye protection for all patient interactions with suspected or confirmed COVID-19 and respirator use during aerosol-generating procedures. Research studies (eg, clinical trials and evaluations), informatics efforts (eg, patient flow dashboards), and healthcare technology innovations (eg, tablets for telehealth and video visits) are continually integrated into the RIU infrastructure. Robust attention to the well-being of everyone working on the unit includes chaplain visits, daily debriefs, meal delivery, and palliative care service support, which enrich the unit experience and instill a culture of unity.

The structures and systems born out of the 2003 SARS experience and the “test, trace, and isolate” strategy were arguably key drivers to flatten Singapore’s epidemic curve early in the pandemic.³ Even with these in place, Singapore is now experiencing a second wave with a significantly higher caseload.¹⁴ In response, the government instituted strict social distancing measures on April 3, closing schools and most workplaces. This suggests that the COVID-19 pandemic may fluctuate over time and that varying types and levels of interventions will be required to maintain long-term control. The NUH team describes experiencing cognitive overload given the ever-changing nature and volume of information and fatigue due to the effort required and duration of this crisis. New programs addressing these challenges are being developed and rapidly deployed.

Despite early testing limitations and newly minted systems, San Francisco is cautiously optimistic about its epidemic curve. Since the March 17, 2020, “shelter in place” order, COVID-19 hospitalizations have remained manageable and constant.¹⁵ This has afforded healthcare systems including UCSF critical time to evolve its clinical operations (eg, the RIU) and to leverage its academic culture coordinating its bench research, global health, epidemiology, clinical research, informatics, and clinical enterprise scholars and experts to advance COVID-19 science and inform pandemic solutions. Although the UCSF frontline teams are challenged by the stresses of being in the throes of the pandemic amidst a rapidly changing landscape (including changes in PPE and testing recommendations specifically), they are working together to build team resilience for what may come.

The world is facing a pandemic of tremendous proportions, and the United States is in the midst of a wave the height of which is yet to be seen. As Fisher and colleagues wrote in 2011, “Our response to infectious disease outbreaks is born out of past experience.”⁴ Singapore and NUH’s structures and systems that were put into place demonstrate this—they are timely, have been effective thus far, and will be tested in this next wave. “However, no two outbreaks are the same,” the authors wrote, “so an understanding of the infectious agent as well as the environment confronting it is fundamental to the response.”⁴ In the United States, hospitalists are a key asset in our environment to confront this virus. The UCSF experience exemplifies that, by combining new ideas from another system with on-the-ground expertise while working hand-in-hand with the hospital and health system, hospitalists can be a critical facet of the pandemic response. Hospitalists’ intrinsic abilities to collaborate, learn, and innovate will enable them to not only meet this challenge now but also to transform practices and capacities to respond to crises into the future.

Acknowledgment

Bradley Sharpe, MD, Division Chief, Division of Hospital Medicine, University of California, San Francisco, California, for his input on conception and critical review of this manuscript.

Establish a Command Team

We benefit from having an existing divisional leadership structure comprising the director, medical directors of our clinical service lines, directors of education and community integration, and associate directors of clinical operations, research, and quality. This established team provides us broad representation of team member expertise and ideas. We maintain our weekly leadership team meeting through video chat and have added daily 30-minute virtual huddles to provide updates from our respective areas and discuss logistical challenges and planning. We use ad hoc phone meetings with relevant team members to address issues of immediate concern.

In the absence of a formal leadership team structure, establish a command team comprising representative leaders of your varied groups (eg, clinical operations, quality improvement, education, research, and business).

Collaborate With Institutional Response

Align divisional command team actions with the institutional response. Our clinical operations leader serves as our primary representative on the institutional emergency preparedness team. This participation allows bidirectional communication, both for institutional updates to be shared with division members and division-specific initiatives to be shared with institutional leadership to facilitate learning across the system.

In conjunction with hospital leadership, our division created a special isolation unit (SIU) to isolate patients positive for COVID-19 and persons under investigation. The institutional emergency preparedness team highlighted the need for such a unit, and our divisional leadership team developed the physician staffing model and medical care delivery system. We collaborated with key stakeholders, including nurses, respiratory therapists, other patient care services members, and subspecialists. The SIU leadership, which includes representatives from hospital medicine, nursing, respiratory therapy, and hospital operations, holds regular phone huddles to provide support and enlist resources based on identified gaps, which allows the frontline SIU physicians to focus on patient care. The calls initially occurred twice daily, but we transitioned to a once-daily schedule after routines were established and resources were procured.

Communicate With Everyone

Frequent communication with the clinical staff is paramount given the rapidly evolving operational changes and medical management recommendations. The divisional leadership team provides frequent email updates to the attending physicians on clinical shifts to communicate clinical updates, send reminders to conserve personal protective equipment (PPE), and share links to COVID-19 resources.

We use our weekly divisional meetings, now held virtually, to provide updates and to allow staff to ask questions and provide input. These meetings routinely include our nonclinical staff, such as administrative assistants and research coordinators, to ensure all team members’ voices are heard and skill sets are utilized. Our divisional infrastructure promotes dialogue and transparency, which is key to our division’s culture. Applying a learning health network approach has allowed us to generate new ideas, accelerate improvement, and encourage everyone to be a part of our community focused on improving outcomes.⁶ We continue to leverage this approach in our pandemic response.

One idea generated from this approach prompted us to create a centralized communication forum, using Microsoft Teams, to serve as a repository for the most up-to-date information related to COVID-19, the SIU, and general information, including links to divisional and institutional resources.

Maintain Nonclinical Operations

Nonclinical staff are working remotely. The business director and research director hold daily calls with the administrative staff and research coordinators, respectively, to discuss workload and to reallocate responsibilities as needed. This approach allows the business, administrative, and research support teams to function efficiently and redistribute work as the nonclinical priorities shift to meet divisional needs.

Establish a Backup Pool

We anticipate needing a larger pool of backup providers in the event of ill or quarantined staff or in case of increased patient volumes. The latter may be less likely for pediatric patients based on early studies^3-5 but could occur if our free-standing children’s hospital expands to include the care of adult patients. We asked physicians to volunteer for backup shifts to augment our existing “jeopardy” backup system with a greater request to those with a lower clinical full-time equivalence. Each day, two backup shift positions are filled by volunteers, with additional positions added on days when medicine-­pediatrics providers are scheduled for shifts in case they are needed at the university (adult) hospital.

Minimize Staffing to Reserve Pool

We monitor census closely on all service lines, including our consult service lines and secondary inpatient site, with plans to dissolve unnecessary consult services and combine medical teams, when feasible, to reduce the risk of staff exposure and maintain reserves. For example, after elective procedures were canceled, we reduced physician staffing of our surgical comanagement service to the minimal necessary coverage. We assign nonpatient-facing clinical duties to physicians who are called off their shift, in quarantine, or mildly ill to help off-load the clinical burden. Such duties include accepting direct admission phone calls, triaging patient care calls, entering orders remotely, and assisting with care coordination needs.

Anticipate Adult Care Needs

Our pediatric institution admits select groups of adult patients with congenital or complex healthcare needs who require specialized care. Hospitalists board certified in both pediatrics and internal medicine provide consultative services to many of these patients. Anticipating that these physicians may be needed in adult facilities, we plan to dissolve this consult service and utilize our reserve pool of providers to cover their pediatric shifts if needed. Additionally, if our hospital expands coverage for adult patients, these medicine-pediatrics providers will be instrumental in coordinating that expanded effort and will serve as leaders for teams of physicians and advanced practice providers with limited or no adult medicine training.

Special Isolation Unit

Logistic planning for our SIU evolved over the first few patients with rapid-cycle feedback and learning with each admission. This feedback was facilitated with our twice-daily huddle calls, which involved all key stakeholders, including nursing and respiratory therapy representatives. For division physician staffing, higher-risk team members are excluded from working on this unit. Because the SIU was developed to care for all patients positive for COVID-19 and persons under investigation, subspecialty patients not typically cared for by Hospital Medicine at our institution are being admitted to this unit. Therefore, subspecialty divisions assign attending physicians to provide consultative services to the SIU. These consultants use the unit’s telemedicine capabilities, when feasible, to limit staff exposure and conserve PPE. Our hospital medicine leaders in the SIU proactively worked with subspecialty divisions that are anticipated to have more admissions given their at-risk patient populations, such as pulmonary medicine, cardiology, and oncology. They specifically developed staffing plans for these patients if the SIU census becomes unsustainable under Hospital Medicine alone.

Healthcare workers are experiencing numerous stressors at work and home during this tumultuous time. Our workforce is at risk of developing emotional distress and mental health concerns. A cross-sectional survey of more than 1,200 healthcare workers in China who cared for COVID-19 patients found that many experienced symptoms of psychological distress (71%), as well as depression (51%), anxiety (44%), and insomnia (34%).⁷ Hospital medicine groups should consider methods to support their staff to mitigate stressors and promote self-care.

Anticipate Childcare Issues

When we were faced with impending school and daycare closures, we surveyed our division to assess childcare needs (Table) and share resources. We created a system of emergency childcare coverage options by connecting parents with similarly aged children and who lived in geographic proximity. This approach to childcare contingency planning was shared with and adopted by other divisions within the institution.

Build Support Measures

To support each other during this particularly stressful time, we divided division members into groups or “support pods,” each facilitated by a leadership team member. Group text messages and weekly phone or video chats have promoted connectivity and peer support.

Promote Self-care

The divisional leadership team provides food and drink for staff on clinical shifts. We also collated self-care resources to share via a central repository. These resources include ideas for meditation, home education for children, parenting, exercise, faith communities, entertainment, methods to support our local community through volunteerism and donations, and mental health resources, as well as online links to these resources.

Adult health systems will be disproportionately affected as this pandemic evolves. Pediatric hospitalists have the unique opportunity to support the response efforts by maintaining teams that are flexible and adaptable to evolving community needs. To do this, team leaders need to promote transparency, share learnings, and leverage the diverse skills of team members to ensure we are ready to meet the challenges of the moment.

Establish a Command Team

We benefit from having an existing divisional leadership structure comprising the director, medical directors of our clinical service lines, directors of education and community integration, and associate directors of clinical operations, research, and quality. This established team provides us broad representation of team member expertise and ideas. We maintain our weekly leadership team meeting through video chat and have added daily 30-minute virtual huddles to provide updates from our respective areas and discuss logistical challenges and planning. We use ad hoc phone meetings with relevant team members to address issues of immediate concern.

In the absence of a formal leadership team structure, establish a command team comprising representative leaders of your varied groups (eg, clinical operations, quality improvement, education, research, and business).

Collaborate With Institutional Response

Align divisional command team actions with the institutional response. Our clinical operations leader serves as our primary representative on the institutional emergency preparedness team. This participation allows bidirectional communication, both for institutional updates to be shared with division members and division-specific initiatives to be shared with institutional leadership to facilitate learning across the system.

In conjunction with hospital leadership, our division created a special isolation unit (SIU) to isolate patients positive for COVID-19 and persons under investigation. The institutional emergency preparedness team highlighted the need for such a unit, and our divisional leadership team developed the physician staffing model and medical care delivery system. We collaborated with key stakeholders, including nurses, respiratory therapists, other patient care services members, and subspecialists. The SIU leadership, which includes representatives from hospital medicine, nursing, respiratory therapy, and hospital operations, holds regular phone huddles to provide support and enlist resources based on identified gaps, which allows the frontline SIU physicians to focus on patient care. The calls initially occurred twice daily, but we transitioned to a once-daily schedule after routines were established and resources were procured.

Communicate With Everyone

Frequent communication with the clinical staff is paramount given the rapidly evolving operational changes and medical management recommendations. The divisional leadership team provides frequent email updates to the attending physicians on clinical shifts to communicate clinical updates, send reminders to conserve personal protective equipment (PPE), and share links to COVID-19 resources.

We use our weekly divisional meetings, now held virtually, to provide updates and to allow staff to ask questions and provide input. These meetings routinely include our nonclinical staff, such as administrative assistants and research coordinators, to ensure all team members’ voices are heard and skill sets are utilized. Our divisional infrastructure promotes dialogue and transparency, which is key to our division’s culture. Applying a learning health network approach has allowed us to generate new ideas, accelerate improvement, and encourage everyone to be a part of our community focused on improving outcomes.⁶ We continue to leverage this approach in our pandemic response.

One idea generated from this approach prompted us to create a centralized communication forum, using Microsoft Teams, to serve as a repository for the most up-to-date information related to COVID-19, the SIU, and general information, including links to divisional and institutional resources.

Maintain Nonclinical Operations

Nonclinical staff are working remotely. The business director and research director hold daily calls with the administrative staff and research coordinators, respectively, to discuss workload and to reallocate responsibilities as needed. This approach allows the business, administrative, and research support teams to function efficiently and redistribute work as the nonclinical priorities shift to meet divisional needs.

Establish a Backup Pool

We anticipate needing a larger pool of backup providers in the event of ill or quarantined staff or in case of increased patient volumes. The latter may be less likely for pediatric patients based on early studies^3-5 but could occur if our free-standing children’s hospital expands to include the care of adult patients. We asked physicians to volunteer for backup shifts to augment our existing “jeopardy” backup system with a greater request to those with a lower clinical full-time equivalence. Each day, two backup shift positions are filled by volunteers, with additional positions added on days when medicine-­pediatrics providers are scheduled for shifts in case they are needed at the university (adult) hospital.

Minimize Staffing to Reserve Pool

We monitor census closely on all service lines, including our consult service lines and secondary inpatient site, with plans to dissolve unnecessary consult services and combine medical teams, when feasible, to reduce the risk of staff exposure and maintain reserves. For example, after elective procedures were canceled, we reduced physician staffing of our surgical comanagement service to the minimal necessary coverage. We assign nonpatient-facing clinical duties to physicians who are called off their shift, in quarantine, or mildly ill to help off-load the clinical burden. Such duties include accepting direct admission phone calls, triaging patient care calls, entering orders remotely, and assisting with care coordination needs.

Anticipate Adult Care Needs

Our pediatric institution admits select groups of adult patients with congenital or complex healthcare needs who require specialized care. Hospitalists board certified in both pediatrics and internal medicine provide consultative services to many of these patients. Anticipating that these physicians may be needed in adult facilities, we plan to dissolve this consult service and utilize our reserve pool of providers to cover their pediatric shifts if needed. Additionally, if our hospital expands coverage for adult patients, these medicine-pediatrics providers will be instrumental in coordinating that expanded effort and will serve as leaders for teams of physicians and advanced practice providers with limited or no adult medicine training.

Special Isolation Unit

Logistic planning for our SIU evolved over the first few patients with rapid-cycle feedback and learning with each admission. This feedback was facilitated with our twice-daily huddle calls, which involved all key stakeholders, including nursing and respiratory therapy representatives. For division physician staffing, higher-risk team members are excluded from working on this unit. Because the SIU was developed to care for all patients positive for COVID-19 and persons under investigation, subspecialty patients not typically cared for by Hospital Medicine at our institution are being admitted to this unit. Therefore, subspecialty divisions assign attending physicians to provide consultative services to the SIU. These consultants use the unit’s telemedicine capabilities, when feasible, to limit staff exposure and conserve PPE. Our hospital medicine leaders in the SIU proactively worked with subspecialty divisions that are anticipated to have more admissions given their at-risk patient populations, such as pulmonary medicine, cardiology, and oncology. They specifically developed staffing plans for these patients if the SIU census becomes unsustainable under Hospital Medicine alone.

Healthcare workers are experiencing numerous stressors at work and home during this tumultuous time. Our workforce is at risk of developing emotional distress and mental health concerns. A cross-sectional survey of more than 1,200 healthcare workers in China who cared for COVID-19 patients found that many experienced symptoms of psychological distress (71%), as well as depression (51%), anxiety (44%), and insomnia (34%).⁷ Hospital medicine groups should consider methods to support their staff to mitigate stressors and promote self-care.

Anticipate Childcare Issues

When we were faced with impending school and daycare closures, we surveyed our division to assess childcare needs (Table) and share resources. We created a system of emergency childcare coverage options by connecting parents with similarly aged children and who lived in geographic proximity. This approach to childcare contingency planning was shared with and adopted by other divisions within the institution.

Build Support Measures

To support each other during this particularly stressful time, we divided division members into groups or “support pods,” each facilitated by a leadership team member. Group text messages and weekly phone or video chats have promoted connectivity and peer support.

Promote Self-care

The divisional leadership team provides food and drink for staff on clinical shifts. We also collated self-care resources to share via a central repository. These resources include ideas for meditation, home education for children, parenting, exercise, faith communities, entertainment, methods to support our local community through volunteerism and donations, and mental health resources, as well as online links to these resources.

Adult health systems will be disproportionately affected as this pandemic evolves. Pediatric hospitalists have the unique opportunity to support the response efforts by maintaining teams that are flexible and adaptable to evolving community needs. To do this, team leaders need to promote transparency, share learnings, and leverage the diverse skills of team members to ensure we are ready to meet the challenges of the moment.

Establish a Command Team

We benefit from having an existing divisional leadership structure comprising the director, medical directors of our clinical service lines, directors of education and community integration, and associate directors of clinical operations, research, and quality. This established team provides us broad representation of team member expertise and ideas. We maintain our weekly leadership team meeting through video chat and have added daily 30-minute virtual huddles to provide updates from our respective areas and discuss logistical challenges and planning. We use ad hoc phone meetings with relevant team members to address issues of immediate concern.

In the absence of a formal leadership team structure, establish a command team comprising representative leaders of your varied groups (eg, clinical operations, quality improvement, education, research, and business).

Collaborate With Institutional Response

Align divisional command team actions with the institutional response. Our clinical operations leader serves as our primary representative on the institutional emergency preparedness team. This participation allows bidirectional communication, both for institutional updates to be shared with division members and division-specific initiatives to be shared with institutional leadership to facilitate learning across the system.

In conjunction with hospital leadership, our division created a special isolation unit (SIU) to isolate patients positive for COVID-19 and persons under investigation. The institutional emergency preparedness team highlighted the need for such a unit, and our divisional leadership team developed the physician staffing model and medical care delivery system. We collaborated with key stakeholders, including nurses, respiratory therapists, other patient care services members, and subspecialists. The SIU leadership, which includes representatives from hospital medicine, nursing, respiratory therapy, and hospital operations, holds regular phone huddles to provide support and enlist resources based on identified gaps, which allows the frontline SIU physicians to focus on patient care. The calls initially occurred twice daily, but we transitioned to a once-daily schedule after routines were established and resources were procured.

Communicate With Everyone

Frequent communication with the clinical staff is paramount given the rapidly evolving operational changes and medical management recommendations. The divisional leadership team provides frequent email updates to the attending physicians on clinical shifts to communicate clinical updates, send reminders to conserve personal protective equipment (PPE), and share links to COVID-19 resources.

We use our weekly divisional meetings, now held virtually, to provide updates and to allow staff to ask questions and provide input. These meetings routinely include our nonclinical staff, such as administrative assistants and research coordinators, to ensure all team members’ voices are heard and skill sets are utilized. Our divisional infrastructure promotes dialogue and transparency, which is key to our division’s culture. Applying a learning health network approach has allowed us to generate new ideas, accelerate improvement, and encourage everyone to be a part of our community focused on improving outcomes.⁶ We continue to leverage this approach in our pandemic response.

One idea generated from this approach prompted us to create a centralized communication forum, using Microsoft Teams, to serve as a repository for the most up-to-date information related to COVID-19, the SIU, and general information, including links to divisional and institutional resources.

Maintain Nonclinical Operations

Nonclinical staff are working remotely. The business director and research director hold daily calls with the administrative staff and research coordinators, respectively, to discuss workload and to reallocate responsibilities as needed. This approach allows the business, administrative, and research support teams to function efficiently and redistribute work as the nonclinical priorities shift to meet divisional needs.

Establish a Backup Pool

We anticipate needing a larger pool of backup providers in the event of ill or quarantined staff or in case of increased patient volumes. The latter may be less likely for pediatric patients based on early studies^3-5 but could occur if our free-standing children’s hospital expands to include the care of adult patients. We asked physicians to volunteer for backup shifts to augment our existing “jeopardy” backup system with a greater request to those with a lower clinical full-time equivalence. Each day, two backup shift positions are filled by volunteers, with additional positions added on days when medicine-­pediatrics providers are scheduled for shifts in case they are needed at the university (adult) hospital.

Minimize Staffing to Reserve Pool

We monitor census closely on all service lines, including our consult service lines and secondary inpatient site, with plans to dissolve unnecessary consult services and combine medical teams, when feasible, to reduce the risk of staff exposure and maintain reserves. For example, after elective procedures were canceled, we reduced physician staffing of our surgical comanagement service to the minimal necessary coverage. We assign nonpatient-facing clinical duties to physicians who are called off their shift, in quarantine, or mildly ill to help off-load the clinical burden. Such duties include accepting direct admission phone calls, triaging patient care calls, entering orders remotely, and assisting with care coordination needs.

Anticipate Adult Care Needs

Our pediatric institution admits select groups of adult patients with congenital or complex healthcare needs who require specialized care. Hospitalists board certified in both pediatrics and internal medicine provide consultative services to many of these patients. Anticipating that these physicians may be needed in adult facilities, we plan to dissolve this consult service and utilize our reserve pool of providers to cover their pediatric shifts if needed. Additionally, if our hospital expands coverage for adult patients, these medicine-pediatrics providers will be instrumental in coordinating that expanded effort and will serve as leaders for teams of physicians and advanced practice providers with limited or no adult medicine training.

Special Isolation Unit

Logistic planning for our SIU evolved over the first few patients with rapid-cycle feedback and learning with each admission. This feedback was facilitated with our twice-daily huddle calls, which involved all key stakeholders, including nursing and respiratory therapy representatives. For division physician staffing, higher-risk team members are excluded from working on this unit. Because the SIU was developed to care for all patients positive for COVID-19 and persons under investigation, subspecialty patients not typically cared for by Hospital Medicine at our institution are being admitted to this unit. Therefore, subspecialty divisions assign attending physicians to provide consultative services to the SIU. These consultants use the unit’s telemedicine capabilities, when feasible, to limit staff exposure and conserve PPE. Our hospital medicine leaders in the SIU proactively worked with subspecialty divisions that are anticipated to have more admissions given their at-risk patient populations, such as pulmonary medicine, cardiology, and oncology. They specifically developed staffing plans for these patients if the SIU census becomes unsustainable under Hospital Medicine alone.

Healthcare workers are experiencing numerous stressors at work and home during this tumultuous time. Our workforce is at risk of developing emotional distress and mental health concerns. A cross-sectional survey of more than 1,200 healthcare workers in China who cared for COVID-19 patients found that many experienced symptoms of psychological distress (71%), as well as depression (51%), anxiety (44%), and insomnia (34%).⁷ Hospital medicine groups should consider methods to support their staff to mitigate stressors and promote self-care.

Anticipate Childcare Issues

When we were faced with impending school and daycare closures, we surveyed our division to assess childcare needs (Table) and share resources. We created a system of emergency childcare coverage options by connecting parents with similarly aged children and who lived in geographic proximity. This approach to childcare contingency planning was shared with and adopted by other divisions within the institution.

Build Support Measures

To support each other during this particularly stressful time, we divided division members into groups or “support pods,” each facilitated by a leadership team member. Group text messages and weekly phone or video chats have promoted connectivity and peer support.

Promote Self-care

The divisional leadership team provides food and drink for staff on clinical shifts. We also collated self-care resources to share via a central repository. These resources include ideas for meditation, home education for children, parenting, exercise, faith communities, entertainment, methods to support our local community through volunteerism and donations, and mental health resources, as well as online links to these resources.

Adult health systems will be disproportionately affected as this pandemic evolves. Pediatric hospitalists have the unique opportunity to support the response efforts by maintaining teams that are flexible and adaptable to evolving community needs. To do this, team leaders need to promote transparency, share learnings, and leverage the diverse skills of team members to ensure we are ready to meet the challenges of the moment.

Health systems around the world have been called upon to expand acute care capacity to manage the current and projected surge of adults with COVID-19, the disease caused by severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2).¹ There has been mixed guidance on how pediatric facilities should consolidate and coordinate pediatric care in a way that optimizes the capacity of hospital beds, staff, and supplies, such as ventilators and medications, for both adults and children in a community.² Furthermore, if and how these pediatric facilities should expand capacity to care for adult patients safely is uncertain.

For the last 5 years, both Boston Children’s Hospital and Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center have been caring for specific adult populations in free-standing pediatric hospitals because of the increasing prevalence of young adults with rare, complex, and historically fatal conditions (eg, chromosomal abnormalities). In the past, low life expectancies for children with such conditions contributed to the evolution of specialized care in pediatric health systems that often does not exist in adult health systems. Our teams in Boston and Cincinnati have gained insight into the multifaceted infrastructure and teams necessary to provide safe care for adults hospitalized in a pediatric setting.

In this perspective piece, we will highlight important principles that pediatric facilities and providers should prioritize if they anticipate caring for hospitalized adults during this pandemic. Designing and implementing an adult care model requires iteratively addressing the following key areas: development of a multistakeholder team, system readiness for intensive care unit (ICU) care of adults, institutional situation awareness, scope of practice, staffing considerations, patient safety, and patient populations and special considerations (eg, adults with chronic conditions of childhood onset). With these areas in mind, pediatric facilities should then consider whether they have the capacity to manage hospitalized adults.

Providing care for any hospitalized patient requires engagement with many health system stakeholders. By involving key stakeholders early in the planning process for our adult care model, we were able to anticipate potential obstacles when caring for a unique subset of patients and gain support of multidisciplinary partners. For instance, inclusion of bedside and support staff highlighted specific needs, such as nurses with adult training and a revised formulary to include common adult medications (eg, clopidogrel for adults with a drug-eluting stent).

Responding to the surge of hospitalized adult patients will require increasing hospital capacity.³ In pediatric settings, this will require consideration of innovative care models. These care models may include pediatric systems flexing to care for adult patients. We recommend hospital leaders from both pediatric and adult facilities have formal discussions on the best ways for pediatric facilities to respond to serve their local population. Inclusion of other key stakeholders will ensure factors imperative to the safe care of adults will not be missed.

There were three levels of consideration for the use of our local pediatric ICU for these patients. First, our institutional policies allow care for adults throughout the system, which we describe in more detail later, in the “Scope of Practice” section. Second, our free-standing pediatric hospital ICUs have accreditation for the care of adults. Third, we developed clear guidelines for subspecialists regarding when adults can safely be admitted or transferred to the pediatric ICU.

Responding to a crisis still necessitates establishing a clear care-escalation plan. An initial barrier may be that some systems do not have a pediatric ICU accredited for care of patients above a certain age. During a crisis, however, as hospital volumes and mortalities rise, states may pursue executive orders, as New York State did, that ease these age restrictions.⁴ Otherwise, we recommend a clear transfer plan to an adult ICU or emergency credentialing and privileging of adult intensivists. Both of these options may pose challenges during a pandemic because adult ICUs will likely be full.

Institutional situation awareness for the identification and mitigation of risks inherent in adult care in a pediatric setting is essential for patient safety. Tracking of admitted adult patients via our electronic health record (EHR) occurs daily by an adult care–team member. Our adult care teams partner with physician safety officers and attend daily institutional multidisciplinary safety huddles to create a shared mental model for the care of adult patients. Daily huddle reports include discussion regarding the number of admitted adults, review of illness acuity, consultative advice on management, and contingency planning for potential decompensation.^5,6 This integration into institutional huddles has been instrumental in proactively identifying hospitalized adults who are at risk for clinical decompensation and mitigating those risks.

Should a pediatric system admit adults to new sites or units, we recommend leveraging preexisting patient safety infrastructure similarly to identify and mitigate risks. If possible, any institutional communication about adult patients should involve adult-trained staff. Mechanisms for tracking patients will depend on local EHRs but are important to guide regular check-ins with providers caring for those patients.

Multiple levels of regulation affect a provider’s scope of practice. The most general of these regulations are state guidelines, followed by local institutional policy. Our institutions require consults for older adults—age varies at our specific institutions—by our adult-care team for assessment of risk and comanagement of adult-specific comorbidities. Additionally, we have agreements with our affiliated adult health facilities that allow in-person adult subspecialty consultation.

While state and institutional policies lay the foundation for pediatric systems considering new adult-care models, provider-level considerations are also needed. Often the patient’s age is a primary consideration, but comorbid conditions also affect the provider’s comfort and ability to care for these patients. We urge practitioners to exercise the full range of their capacities, but also to think critically about the ethical scope of one’s practice. As healthcare providers, it is our duty to hold each other accountable, voice concerns, and advocate to increase health system capacity equitably.⁷ It’s paramount that channels of communication, in-person or virtual, be arranged for supportive adult subspecialist consultation.

Med-Peds physicians and advanced practice providers are the foundation of the clinical care provided to adults at our institutions. Our Med-Peds providers practice in both the free-standing pediatric hospital and an affiliated adult health system. They offer expertise in adult clinical care and navigate between pediatric and adult systems when the need arises (eg, adult requiring urgent intervention for an acute myocardial infarction). Adult competencies of other staff must be addressed. For example, our cardiac ICUs include nurses with adult clinical care experience because critically ill adults with congenital heart disease are admitted. Advanced Care Life Support (ACLS) training is also required for staff caring for adults throughout the hospital.

There are many ways, even during a crisis, to develop an adult care model in a pediatric setting. Depending on workforce availability, internal medicine, Med-Peds, family medicine, critical care, and emergency medicine physicians could serve on either a primary service or as a consultant to support pediatrics-trained providers in caring for adults should the patient volume and acuity require staffing restructuring. Adult subspecialty access must be addressed. Telehealth may play a significant role in extending clinicians in all of these clinical roles both during the current crisis but also in underresourced settings.⁸ A clear process and indication for emergency or temporary credentialing and privileging necessitates understanding and addressing such challenges early. Training in adult care, or lack thereof, for other staff, such as nurses and respiratory therapists, is also crucial to consider.

Adults are more likely than children to have comorbidities and clinical deterioration while hospitalized. At our institutions, when a rapid response team is called for an adult patient, an adult care–team provider responds to aid in clinical management and determines the appropriate care setting. Additionally, given that the incidence of coronary artery disease increases starting at age 35 years,⁹ our systems have developed procedures for managing time-sensitive conditions seen more commonly in adults, such as acute myocardial infarction, stroke, and pulmonary embolism. Despite simulation training for pediatric providers and staff, it is clear that implementing these procedures is highly dependent on involvement of the adult care team.

With the urgency of implementation, pediatric systems should consider increasing the number of providers and staff with ACLS training, especially for rapid response and code teams. Many pediatric systems may need to evaluate how their code carts are stocked and ensure they are equipped with appropriate medication dosages and sizes of supplies. Emergent and accessible adult care will be needed, especially for issues with time-to-intervention criteria like acute myocardial infarction and stroke. Hospitalized adults with COVID-19 may also have a higher incidence of arrhythmia, cardiac ischemia, and stroke.¹⁰ Consider proactively simulating common COVID-19–related scenarios to build interdisciplinary teamwork in emergency scenarios. Interhospital agreements and pathways exist for sharing medications. Outreach to pharmacies may be indicated to ensure accessibility for medications not commonly found in pediatric systems.

Our children’s hospitals care for certain adult populations with chronic conditions of childhood origin because of the availability of subspecialty clinical expertise. Our adult care team aids in contingency planning to help determine place of admission (adult vs pediatric hospital) depending on patient clinical needs and system expertise. For instance, an adult with congenital heart disease may have two cardiologists—one for congenital heart disease and one for coronary artery disease. Patients with an acute issue such as new-onset arrhythmia may be admitted to our pediatric hospital; however, for a stroke they would be admitted to the adult hospital.

While important and tempting to address this issue first, creating criteria to determine which patient population to admit should be a last consideration during a pandemic. Consider if the decision to admit should be determined based on COVID-19 infection status. From there, types of conditions thought to be within the purview of pediatric practice can be considered. These include basic infectious diseases pathology (eg, skin/soft-tissue infections and pyelonephritis) and chronic conditions of childhood origin (eg, cystic fibrosis, diabetes, and inflammatory bowel disease), which have specialty providers who could work across an extended age range. Conditions potentially more challenging to safely care for in pediatric facilities include acute cardiac conditions (eg, angina, acute coronary syndrome, and arrhythmias), alcohol withdrawal, end-stage liver or kidney disease, and gastrointestinal bleeds. Considerations need to be made for research protocols and novel therapies only available at adult institutions. Through this whole process, it is especially crucial to note care equity and ensure that all patients have access to the highest attainable care possible.

Policymakers at pediatric facilities should think critically about their institution’s capacity to manage adults. In some circumstances, the decision might be to not admit adult patients based on the factors discussed in this paper or other contextual factors of the local healthcare systems. Our role in providing care for adults in pediatric hospitals involves not only ensuring age-appropriate care, but also in supporting patients and other healthcare providers to navigate a fragmented health system. Our adult-care models required building relationships between pediatric and adult health systems. Building these relationships in the setting of crisis can strengthen health systems and healthcare communities beyond the era of COVID-19. Because it’s promoted enhanced collaboration between pediatric and adult facilities, COVID-19 can be a platform to build a better system to support our already vulnerable young adults with chronic conditions of childhood origin for years to come.

Health systems around the world have been called upon to expand acute care capacity to manage the current and projected surge of adults with COVID-19, the disease caused by severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2).¹ There has been mixed guidance on how pediatric facilities should consolidate and coordinate pediatric care in a way that optimizes the capacity of hospital beds, staff, and supplies, such as ventilators and medications, for both adults and children in a community.² Furthermore, if and how these pediatric facilities should expand capacity to care for adult patients safely is uncertain.

For the last 5 years, both Boston Children’s Hospital and Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center have been caring for specific adult populations in free-standing pediatric hospitals because of the increasing prevalence of young adults with rare, complex, and historically fatal conditions (eg, chromosomal abnormalities). In the past, low life expectancies for children with such conditions contributed to the evolution of specialized care in pediatric health systems that often does not exist in adult health systems. Our teams in Boston and Cincinnati have gained insight into the multifaceted infrastructure and teams necessary to provide safe care for adults hospitalized in a pediatric setting.

In this perspective piece, we will highlight important principles that pediatric facilities and providers should prioritize if they anticipate caring for hospitalized adults during this pandemic. Designing and implementing an adult care model requires iteratively addressing the following key areas: development of a multistakeholder team, system readiness for intensive care unit (ICU) care of adults, institutional situation awareness, scope of practice, staffing considerations, patient safety, and patient populations and special considerations (eg, adults with chronic conditions of childhood onset). With these areas in mind, pediatric facilities should then consider whether they have the capacity to manage hospitalized adults.

Providing care for any hospitalized patient requires engagement with many health system stakeholders. By involving key stakeholders early in the planning process for our adult care model, we were able to anticipate potential obstacles when caring for a unique subset of patients and gain support of multidisciplinary partners. For instance, inclusion of bedside and support staff highlighted specific needs, such as nurses with adult training and a revised formulary to include common adult medications (eg, clopidogrel for adults with a drug-eluting stent).

Responding to the surge of hospitalized adult patients will require increasing hospital capacity.³ In pediatric settings, this will require consideration of innovative care models. These care models may include pediatric systems flexing to care for adult patients. We recommend hospital leaders from both pediatric and adult facilities have formal discussions on the best ways for pediatric facilities to respond to serve their local population. Inclusion of other key stakeholders will ensure factors imperative to the safe care of adults will not be missed.

There were three levels of consideration for the use of our local pediatric ICU for these patients. First, our institutional policies allow care for adults throughout the system, which we describe in more detail later, in the “Scope of Practice” section. Second, our free-standing pediatric hospital ICUs have accreditation for the care of adults. Third, we developed clear guidelines for subspecialists regarding when adults can safely be admitted or transferred to the pediatric ICU.

Responding to a crisis still necessitates establishing a clear care-escalation plan. An initial barrier may be that some systems do not have a pediatric ICU accredited for care of patients above a certain age. During a crisis, however, as hospital volumes and mortalities rise, states may pursue executive orders, as New York State did, that ease these age restrictions.⁴ Otherwise, we recommend a clear transfer plan to an adult ICU or emergency credentialing and privileging of adult intensivists. Both of these options may pose challenges during a pandemic because adult ICUs will likely be full.

Institutional situation awareness for the identification and mitigation of risks inherent in adult care in a pediatric setting is essential for patient safety. Tracking of admitted adult patients via our electronic health record (EHR) occurs daily by an adult care–team member. Our adult care teams partner with physician safety officers and attend daily institutional multidisciplinary safety huddles to create a shared mental model for the care of adult patients. Daily huddle reports include discussion regarding the number of admitted adults, review of illness acuity, consultative advice on management, and contingency planning for potential decompensation.^5,6 This integration into institutional huddles has been instrumental in proactively identifying hospitalized adults who are at risk for clinical decompensation and mitigating those risks.

Should a pediatric system admit adults to new sites or units, we recommend leveraging preexisting patient safety infrastructure similarly to identify and mitigate risks. If possible, any institutional communication about adult patients should involve adult-trained staff. Mechanisms for tracking patients will depend on local EHRs but are important to guide regular check-ins with providers caring for those patients.

Multiple levels of regulation affect a provider’s scope of practice. The most general of these regulations are state guidelines, followed by local institutional policy. Our institutions require consults for older adults—age varies at our specific institutions—by our adult-care team for assessment of risk and comanagement of adult-specific comorbidities. Additionally, we have agreements with our affiliated adult health facilities that allow in-person adult subspecialty consultation.

While state and institutional policies lay the foundation for pediatric systems considering new adult-care models, provider-level considerations are also needed. Often the patient’s age is a primary consideration, but comorbid conditions also affect the provider’s comfort and ability to care for these patients. We urge practitioners to exercise the full range of their capacities, but also to think critically about the ethical scope of one’s practice. As healthcare providers, it is our duty to hold each other accountable, voice concerns, and advocate to increase health system capacity equitably.⁷ It’s paramount that channels of communication, in-person or virtual, be arranged for supportive adult subspecialist consultation.

Med-Peds physicians and advanced practice providers are the foundation of the clinical care provided to adults at our institutions. Our Med-Peds providers practice in both the free-standing pediatric hospital and an affiliated adult health system. They offer expertise in adult clinical care and navigate between pediatric and adult systems when the need arises (eg, adult requiring urgent intervention for an acute myocardial infarction). Adult competencies of other staff must be addressed. For example, our cardiac ICUs include nurses with adult clinical care experience because critically ill adults with congenital heart disease are admitted. Advanced Care Life Support (ACLS) training is also required for staff caring for adults throughout the hospital.

There are many ways, even during a crisis, to develop an adult care model in a pediatric setting. Depending on workforce availability, internal medicine, Med-Peds, family medicine, critical care, and emergency medicine physicians could serve on either a primary service or as a consultant to support pediatrics-trained providers in caring for adults should the patient volume and acuity require staffing restructuring. Adult subspecialty access must be addressed. Telehealth may play a significant role in extending clinicians in all of these clinical roles both during the current crisis but also in underresourced settings.⁸ A clear process and indication for emergency or temporary credentialing and privileging necessitates understanding and addressing such challenges early. Training in adult care, or lack thereof, for other staff, such as nurses and respiratory therapists, is also crucial to consider.

Adults are more likely than children to have comorbidities and clinical deterioration while hospitalized. At our institutions, when a rapid response team is called for an adult patient, an adult care–team provider responds to aid in clinical management and determines the appropriate care setting. Additionally, given that the incidence of coronary artery disease increases starting at age 35 years,⁹ our systems have developed procedures for managing time-sensitive conditions seen more commonly in adults, such as acute myocardial infarction, stroke, and pulmonary embolism. Despite simulation training for pediatric providers and staff, it is clear that implementing these procedures is highly dependent on involvement of the adult care team.

With the urgency of implementation, pediatric systems should consider increasing the number of providers and staff with ACLS training, especially for rapid response and code teams. Many pediatric systems may need to evaluate how their code carts are stocked and ensure they are equipped with appropriate medication dosages and sizes of supplies. Emergent and accessible adult care will be needed, especially for issues with time-to-intervention criteria like acute myocardial infarction and stroke. Hospitalized adults with COVID-19 may also have a higher incidence of arrhythmia, cardiac ischemia, and stroke.¹⁰ Consider proactively simulating common COVID-19–related scenarios to build interdisciplinary teamwork in emergency scenarios. Interhospital agreements and pathways exist for sharing medications. Outreach to pharmacies may be indicated to ensure accessibility for medications not commonly found in pediatric systems.

Our children’s hospitals care for certain adult populations with chronic conditions of childhood origin because of the availability of subspecialty clinical expertise. Our adult care team aids in contingency planning to help determine place of admission (adult vs pediatric hospital) depending on patient clinical needs and system expertise. For instance, an adult with congenital heart disease may have two cardiologists—one for congenital heart disease and one for coronary artery disease. Patients with an acute issue such as new-onset arrhythmia may be admitted to our pediatric hospital; however, for a stroke they would be admitted to the adult hospital.

While important and tempting to address this issue first, creating criteria to determine which patient population to admit should be a last consideration during a pandemic. Consider if the decision to admit should be determined based on COVID-19 infection status. From there, types of conditions thought to be within the purview of pediatric practice can be considered. These include basic infectious diseases pathology (eg, skin/soft-tissue infections and pyelonephritis) and chronic conditions of childhood origin (eg, cystic fibrosis, diabetes, and inflammatory bowel disease), which have specialty providers who could work across an extended age range. Conditions potentially more challenging to safely care for in pediatric facilities include acute cardiac conditions (eg, angina, acute coronary syndrome, and arrhythmias), alcohol withdrawal, end-stage liver or kidney disease, and gastrointestinal bleeds. Considerations need to be made for research protocols and novel therapies only available at adult institutions. Through this whole process, it is especially crucial to note care equity and ensure that all patients have access to the highest attainable care possible.

Policymakers at pediatric facilities should think critically about their institution’s capacity to manage adults. In some circumstances, the decision might be to not admit adult patients based on the factors discussed in this paper or other contextual factors of the local healthcare systems. Our role in providing care for adults in pediatric hospitals involves not only ensuring age-appropriate care, but also in supporting patients and other healthcare providers to navigate a fragmented health system. Our adult-care models required building relationships between pediatric and adult health systems. Building these relationships in the setting of crisis can strengthen health systems and healthcare communities beyond the era of COVID-19. Because it’s promoted enhanced collaboration between pediatric and adult facilities, COVID-19 can be a platform to build a better system to support our already vulnerable young adults with chronic conditions of childhood origin for years to come.

Health systems around the world have been called upon to expand acute care capacity to manage the current and projected surge of adults with COVID-19, the disease caused by severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2).¹ There has been mixed guidance on how pediatric facilities should consolidate and coordinate pediatric care in a way that optimizes the capacity of hospital beds, staff, and supplies, such as ventilators and medications, for both adults and children in a community.² Furthermore, if and how these pediatric facilities should expand capacity to care for adult patients safely is uncertain.

For the last 5 years, both Boston Children’s Hospital and Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center have been caring for specific adult populations in free-standing pediatric hospitals because of the increasing prevalence of young adults with rare, complex, and historically fatal conditions (eg, chromosomal abnormalities). In the past, low life expectancies for children with such conditions contributed to the evolution of specialized care in pediatric health systems that often does not exist in adult health systems. Our teams in Boston and Cincinnati have gained insight into the multifaceted infrastructure and teams necessary to provide safe care for adults hospitalized in a pediatric setting.

In this perspective piece, we will highlight important principles that pediatric facilities and providers should prioritize if they anticipate caring for hospitalized adults during this pandemic. Designing and implementing an adult care model requires iteratively addressing the following key areas: development of a multistakeholder team, system readiness for intensive care unit (ICU) care of adults, institutional situation awareness, scope of practice, staffing considerations, patient safety, and patient populations and special considerations (eg, adults with chronic conditions of childhood onset). With these areas in mind, pediatric facilities should then consider whether they have the capacity to manage hospitalized adults.

Providing care for any hospitalized patient requires engagement with many health system stakeholders. By involving key stakeholders early in the planning process for our adult care model, we were able to anticipate potential obstacles when caring for a unique subset of patients and gain support of multidisciplinary partners. For instance, inclusion of bedside and support staff highlighted specific needs, such as nurses with adult training and a revised formulary to include common adult medications (eg, clopidogrel for adults with a drug-eluting stent).

Responding to the surge of hospitalized adult patients will require increasing hospital capacity.³ In pediatric settings, this will require consideration of innovative care models. These care models may include pediatric systems flexing to care for adult patients. We recommend hospital leaders from both pediatric and adult facilities have formal discussions on the best ways for pediatric facilities to respond to serve their local population. Inclusion of other key stakeholders will ensure factors imperative to the safe care of adults will not be missed.

There were three levels of consideration for the use of our local pediatric ICU for these patients. First, our institutional policies allow care for adults throughout the system, which we describe in more detail later, in the “Scope of Practice” section. Second, our free-standing pediatric hospital ICUs have accreditation for the care of adults. Third, we developed clear guidelines for subspecialists regarding when adults can safely be admitted or transferred to the pediatric ICU.

Responding to a crisis still necessitates establishing a clear care-escalation plan. An initial barrier may be that some systems do not have a pediatric ICU accredited for care of patients above a certain age. During a crisis, however, as hospital volumes and mortalities rise, states may pursue executive orders, as New York State did, that ease these age restrictions.⁴ Otherwise, we recommend a clear transfer plan to an adult ICU or emergency credentialing and privileging of adult intensivists. Both of these options may pose challenges during a pandemic because adult ICUs will likely be full.

Institutional situation awareness for the identification and mitigation of risks inherent in adult care in a pediatric setting is essential for patient safety. Tracking of admitted adult patients via our electronic health record (EHR) occurs daily by an adult care–team member. Our adult care teams partner with physician safety officers and attend daily institutional multidisciplinary safety huddles to create a shared mental model for the care of adult patients. Daily huddle reports include discussion regarding the number of admitted adults, review of illness acuity, consultative advice on management, and contingency planning for potential decompensation.^5,6 This integration into institutional huddles has been instrumental in proactively identifying hospitalized adults who are at risk for clinical decompensation and mitigating those risks.

Should a pediatric system admit adults to new sites or units, we recommend leveraging preexisting patient safety infrastructure similarly to identify and mitigate risks. If possible, any institutional communication about adult patients should involve adult-trained staff. Mechanisms for tracking patients will depend on local EHRs but are important to guide regular check-ins with providers caring for those patients.

Multiple levels of regulation affect a provider’s scope of practice. The most general of these regulations are state guidelines, followed by local institutional policy. Our institutions require consults for older adults—age varies at our specific institutions—by our adult-care team for assessment of risk and comanagement of adult-specific comorbidities. Additionally, we have agreements with our affiliated adult health facilities that allow in-person adult subspecialty consultation.

While state and institutional policies lay the foundation for pediatric systems considering new adult-care models, provider-level considerations are also needed. Often the patient’s age is a primary consideration, but comorbid conditions also affect the provider’s comfort and ability to care for these patients. We urge practitioners to exercise the full range of their capacities, but also to think critically about the ethical scope of one’s practice. As healthcare providers, it is our duty to hold each other accountable, voice concerns, and advocate to increase health system capacity equitably.⁷ It’s paramount that channels of communication, in-person or virtual, be arranged for supportive adult subspecialist consultation.

Med-Peds physicians and advanced practice providers are the foundation of the clinical care provided to adults at our institutions. Our Med-Peds providers practice in both the free-standing pediatric hospital and an affiliated adult health system. They offer expertise in adult clinical care and navigate between pediatric and adult systems when the need arises (eg, adult requiring urgent intervention for an acute myocardial infarction). Adult competencies of other staff must be addressed. For example, our cardiac ICUs include nurses with adult clinical care experience because critically ill adults with congenital heart disease are admitted. Advanced Care Life Support (ACLS) training is also required for staff caring for adults throughout the hospital.

There are many ways, even during a crisis, to develop an adult care model in a pediatric setting. Depending on workforce availability, internal medicine, Med-Peds, family medicine, critical care, and emergency medicine physicians could serve on either a primary service or as a consultant to support pediatrics-trained providers in caring for adults should the patient volume and acuity require staffing restructuring. Adult subspecialty access must be addressed. Telehealth may play a significant role in extending clinicians in all of these clinical roles both during the current crisis but also in underresourced settings.⁸ A clear process and indication for emergency or temporary credentialing and privileging necessitates understanding and addressing such challenges early. Training in adult care, or lack thereof, for other staff, such as nurses and respiratory therapists, is also crucial to consider.

Adults are more likely than children to have comorbidities and clinical deterioration while hospitalized. At our institutions, when a rapid response team is called for an adult patient, an adult care–team provider responds to aid in clinical management and determines the appropriate care setting. Additionally, given that the incidence of coronary artery disease increases starting at age 35 years,⁹ our systems have developed procedures for managing time-sensitive conditions seen more commonly in adults, such as acute myocardial infarction, stroke, and pulmonary embolism. Despite simulation training for pediatric providers and staff, it is clear that implementing these procedures is highly dependent on involvement of the adult care team.

With the urgency of implementation, pediatric systems should consider increasing the number of providers and staff with ACLS training, especially for rapid response and code teams. Many pediatric systems may need to evaluate how their code carts are stocked and ensure they are equipped with appropriate medication dosages and sizes of supplies. Emergent and accessible adult care will be needed, especially for issues with time-to-intervention criteria like acute myocardial infarction and stroke. Hospitalized adults with COVID-19 may also have a higher incidence of arrhythmia, cardiac ischemia, and stroke.¹⁰ Consider proactively simulating common COVID-19–related scenarios to build interdisciplinary teamwork in emergency scenarios. Interhospital agreements and pathways exist for sharing medications. Outreach to pharmacies may be indicated to ensure accessibility for medications not commonly found in pediatric systems.

Our children’s hospitals care for certain adult populations with chronic conditions of childhood origin because of the availability of subspecialty clinical expertise. Our adult care team aids in contingency planning to help determine place of admission (adult vs pediatric hospital) depending on patient clinical needs and system expertise. For instance, an adult with congenital heart disease may have two cardiologists—one for congenital heart disease and one for coronary artery disease. Patients with an acute issue such as new-onset arrhythmia may be admitted to our pediatric hospital; however, for a stroke they would be admitted to the adult hospital.

While important and tempting to address this issue first, creating criteria to determine which patient population to admit should be a last consideration during a pandemic. Consider if the decision to admit should be determined based on COVID-19 infection status. From there, types of conditions thought to be within the purview of pediatric practice can be considered. These include basic infectious diseases pathology (eg, skin/soft-tissue infections and pyelonephritis) and chronic conditions of childhood origin (eg, cystic fibrosis, diabetes, and inflammatory bowel disease), which have specialty providers who could work across an extended age range. Conditions potentially more challenging to safely care for in pediatric facilities include acute cardiac conditions (eg, angina, acute coronary syndrome, and arrhythmias), alcohol withdrawal, end-stage liver or kidney disease, and gastrointestinal bleeds. Considerations need to be made for research protocols and novel therapies only available at adult institutions. Through this whole process, it is especially crucial to note care equity and ensure that all patients have access to the highest attainable care possible.

Policymakers at pediatric facilities should think critically about their institution’s capacity to manage adults. In some circumstances, the decision might be to not admit adult patients based on the factors discussed in this paper or other contextual factors of the local healthcare systems. Our role in providing care for adults in pediatric hospitals involves not only ensuring age-appropriate care, but also in supporting patients and other healthcare providers to navigate a fragmented health system. Our adult-care models required building relationships between pediatric and adult health systems. Building these relationships in the setting of crisis can strengthen health systems and healthcare communities beyond the era of COVID-19. Because it’s promoted enhanced collaboration between pediatric and adult facilities, COVID-19 can be a platform to build a better system to support our already vulnerable young adults with chronic conditions of childhood origin for years to come.

Due to the pandemic spread of the severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), the cause of COVID-19 infection, there is significant disruption to the global supply of PPE.² Order volumes of PPE have increased, prices have surged, and distributors are experiencing challenges meeting order demands.³ With decreased overseas exports, suppliers have placed hospitals on PPE allocations, and many hospitals’ orders for PPE have been only partially filled.^3,4 Unless hospitals have established stockpiles, most only have supplies for 3-7 days of routine use, leaving them vulnerable to exhausting PPE supplies. At the onset of the pandemic, 86% of United States hospitals reported concerns about their PPE supply.⁴

The potential for PPE shortages has led both the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the World Health Organization to call for the rational and appropriate use of PPE in order to conserve supplies.^2,3 By the time COVID-19 was declared a pandemic, 54% of hospitals had imposed PPE conservation protocols,⁴ with more expected to follow in the weeks and months to come. Innovative protocols have been conceptualized and used to conserve PPE in hospitals (Table).

Yet these conservation protocols often fail to identify missed opportunities to improve the value of PPE that already exist in hospital care. By defining the value of inpatient PPE, hospitals can identify opportunities for value improvement. Changes implemented now will maximize PPE value and preserve supply during this pandemic and beyond.

In order to conserve PPE supply, hospitals might consider limiting PPE to cases in which clear evidence exists to support its use. However, evidence for PPE use can be challenging to interpret because the impact of preventing nosocomial infections (an outcome that did not occur) is inherently problematic to measure. This makes assessing the value of PPE in preventing nosocomial transmission in specific situations difficult.

The basis of using PPE is its effectiveness in controlling outbreaks.¹ A meta-analysis of 6 case-control studies from the SARS outbreak of 2003, which disproportionately infected healthcare workers, suggested that handwashing and PPE were effective in preventing disease transmission. Handwashing alone reduced transmission by 55%, wearing gloves by 57%, and wearing facemasks by 68%; the cumulative effect of handwashing, masks, gloves, and gowns reduced transmission by 91%.⁵ A cohort study of healthcare workers exposed to H1N1 influenza A in 2009 found that use of a facemask or an N95 respirator was associated with negative viral serology suggesting noninfected status.⁶ With respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) outbreaks, a narrative synthesis of 4 studies examining transmission also suggested gowns, facemasks, and eye protection are effective, with eye protection perhaps more effective than gowns and masks.⁷ Yet these studies’ conclusions are limited by study design differences and small sample sizes.

The evidence supporting PPE use for routine hospital conditions is more challenging to interpret. One pediatric study of seasonal respiratory viruses showed that adding droplet precautions to an existing policy of contact precautions alone decreased nosocomial infections for most viruses evaluated.⁸ Yet this study, like many of PPE use, is limited by sample size and possible misclassification of exposure and outcome biases. Because PPE is always utilized in conjunction with other preventive measures, isolating the impact of PPE is challenging, let alone isolating the individual effects of PPE components. In the absence of strong empirical evidence, hospitals must rely on the inherent rationale of PPE use for patient and healthcare worker safety in assessing its value.

In order to protect patients from disease transmission during a pandemic, hospitals might also reconsider whether to use PPE in cases in which evidence is absent, such as routine prevention for colonized but noninfected patients. However, evidence of the possible patient harms of PPE are emerging. Healthcare providers spend less time with isolated patients^9,10 and document fewer vital signs.¹¹ Patients in PPE may experience delays in admission¹² and discharge,¹³ and have higher rates of falls, pressure ulcers, and medication errors.^14,15 They may also experience higher rates of anxiety and depression.¹⁶ Yet no evidence suggests PPE use for noninfected patients prevents transmission to patients or to healthcare workers. Using PPE when it is not indicated deemphasizes the value of other preventative precautions (eg, handwashing), unnecessarily depletes PPE supply, and may create patient harm without added benefit. High-value PPE, both during a pandemic and beyond, is defined by a system designed so that healthcare workers use PPE when they need it, and do not use PPE when not indicated.

While all hospitalized patients are admitted using standard precautions, decisions surrounding PPE can be nuanced for even experienced clinicians. Although the CDC does provide guidance for PPE use based on symptoms that correlate with potential for transmission (eg, patients with cough should be placed in at least droplet precautions),¹ guidelines must rely on provider evaluation and interpretation. For instance, three etiologies of cough—pneumococcal pneumonia, RSV bronchiolitis, and pulmonary tuberculosis—would all require different PPE. The clinician must weigh the probabilities of each pathogen and assess the harm of not protecting against certain pathogens in his or her decision.

Amidst the stress and cognitive burdens placed on clinicians, accuracy in PPE decisions is easily deprioritized. Clinicians may not completely consider patient-specific indications for PPE, implications for patients and staff, and supply shortages. Although the CDC and many hospitals have PPE initiation and discontinuation criteria, clinicians may favor educated guesswork and reliance on past experience when guidelines are poorly accessible or poorly searchable. Such individual, nonstandardized decisions likely lead to variability in practice patterns, inaccuracies in PPE decisions, and ultimately waste of PPE resources.

At our institution, the inconveniences, cognitive burden, and perceived benefit of routine PPE interventions have created a system in which PPE is regularly overused. On our hospital medicine wards, we found that PPE was both over-ordered upon admission (eg, contact/droplet precautions ordered for influenza when droplet precautions only would have sufficed) and unnecessarily continued even after children met discontinuation criteria.

On discharge review from our general pediatric ward in 2019, 18% of children discharged with PPE orders no longer met criteria for PPE. Two conditions—community-acquired bacterial pneumonia and skin and soft-tissue infections—accounted for 47% of discharges with unnecessary PPE orders. At an estimated cost of $0.13-$0.53 for droplet precautions per use, $0.69 for contact precautions, and $0.82-$1.22 for both, the absolute cost of continuing PPE without indication could be as high as $61/day per patient when estimating 50 uses per day. This direct cost represents healthcare spending without added value when PPE are not necessary. Furthermore, the additional emotional cost to the patient and family in their hospitalization experience, the cost of clinician time donning and doffing, the environmental cost of PPE waste, and the cost to the limited PPE supply are not considered in these calculations.

During a pandemic characterized by PPE shortages nationwide, allowing missed opportunities for PPE discontinuation to persist is not only wasteful, but inattentive to public health.

For individual clinicians, opportunities exist to improve PPE usage in daily patient care. Clinicians should not overlook PPE decisions; instead they should make it a practice to review PPE orders daily during rounds as they would lab orders. Clinicians and nursing staff should work together to identify PPE discontinuation opportunities, leveraging the electronic medical record when possible. For the benefit of patients and families, clinicians and bedside staff should recognize and assist in managing patient expectations of PPE.

Hospitals should work to make PPE references easily accessible and interpretable by frontline clinicians. To minimize variability of use, PPE ordering for routine conditions should be standardized and streamlined, including discontinuation criteria. Hospitals should invest in behavioral health programs to support patients with conditions necessitating PPE and develop policies to ensure ancillary services are equally available to all patients. To alleviate concerns about limited clinician time spent with isolated patients, hospitals should assign clinician workloads while accounting for the known increased time needed to care for patients with PPE.

For hospitals with extreme supply shortages, conservation might include decreased use of PPE for conditions in which its use is controversial (eg, patients colonized with methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus or multidrug resistant organisms) as has been trialed in institutions prior to this pandemic.^17,18 Such PPE policy changes might occur in addition to, or in conjunction with, the conservation strategies suggested by other institutions (Table).

Healthcare systems should continually reassess the value of PPE for their hospitals and make changes accordingly. In the midst of difficulties directly demonstrating PPE’s value, hospitals must rely on the inherent rationale of PPE use in assessing value decisions weighed against harms while balancing healthcare worker protection regulations. Decisions should always occur while continuing other sensible infection-control procedures, such as handwashing and environmental hygiene measures.

To effect maximal change, healthcare systems should invest in redesigning PPE ordering systems at the highest level. This should include harnessing existing technologies to streamline PPE ordering decisions to meet clinicians’ cognitive needs. Decision support and auditing technologies could automate and monitor PPE orders efficiently. Likely to be most effective, an investment in creating and maintaining centralized PPE expert management teams to assess, order, and discontinue PPE would minimize individual ordering variation, minimize cost, and maximize value to patients, staff, and hospitals.

In this pandemic, we have the opportunity to rethink how we understand and use PPE in hospitalized patients. It is vitally important now more than ever to consciously conserve the limited supply of PPE resources. As we seek to increase healthcare value while limiting overuse and waste, PPE is a prime target for value improvement efforts as the effective but also burdensome tool that it is. Hospitalists are well-positioned to lead the redesign of how, when, and why PPE is used and to create a more optimized, lasting system that provides maximal value to patients, families, and healthcare workers during this current crisis and beyond.

Due to the pandemic spread of the severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), the cause of COVID-19 infection, there is significant disruption to the global supply of PPE.² Order volumes of PPE have increased, prices have surged, and distributors are experiencing challenges meeting order demands.³ With decreased overseas exports, suppliers have placed hospitals on PPE allocations, and many hospitals’ orders for PPE have been only partially filled.^3,4 Unless hospitals have established stockpiles, most only have supplies for 3-7 days of routine use, leaving them vulnerable to exhausting PPE supplies. At the onset of the pandemic, 86% of United States hospitals reported concerns about their PPE supply.⁴

The potential for PPE shortages has led both the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the World Health Organization to call for the rational and appropriate use of PPE in order to conserve supplies.^2,3 By the time COVID-19 was declared a pandemic, 54% of hospitals had imposed PPE conservation protocols,⁴ with more expected to follow in the weeks and months to come. Innovative protocols have been conceptualized and used to conserve PPE in hospitals (Table).

Yet these conservation protocols often fail to identify missed opportunities to improve the value of PPE that already exist in hospital care. By defining the value of inpatient PPE, hospitals can identify opportunities for value improvement. Changes implemented now will maximize PPE value and preserve supply during this pandemic and beyond.

In order to conserve PPE supply, hospitals might consider limiting PPE to cases in which clear evidence exists to support its use. However, evidence for PPE use can be challenging to interpret because the impact of preventing nosocomial infections (an outcome that did not occur) is inherently problematic to measure. This makes assessing the value of PPE in preventing nosocomial transmission in specific situations difficult.

The basis of using PPE is its effectiveness in controlling outbreaks.¹ A meta-analysis of 6 case-control studies from the SARS outbreak of 2003, which disproportionately infected healthcare workers, suggested that handwashing and PPE were effective in preventing disease transmission. Handwashing alone reduced transmission by 55%, wearing gloves by 57%, and wearing facemasks by 68%; the cumulative effect of handwashing, masks, gloves, and gowns reduced transmission by 91%.⁵ A cohort study of healthcare workers exposed to H1N1 influenza A in 2009 found that use of a facemask or an N95 respirator was associated with negative viral serology suggesting noninfected status.⁶ With respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) outbreaks, a narrative synthesis of 4 studies examining transmission also suggested gowns, facemasks, and eye protection are effective, with eye protection perhaps more effective than gowns and masks.⁷ Yet these studies’ conclusions are limited by study design differences and small sample sizes.

The evidence supporting PPE use for routine hospital conditions is more challenging to interpret. One pediatric study of seasonal respiratory viruses showed that adding droplet precautions to an existing policy of contact precautions alone decreased nosocomial infections for most viruses evaluated.⁸ Yet this study, like many of PPE use, is limited by sample size and possible misclassification of exposure and outcome biases. Because PPE is always utilized in conjunction with other preventive measures, isolating the impact of PPE is challenging, let alone isolating the individual effects of PPE components. In the absence of strong empirical evidence, hospitals must rely on the inherent rationale of PPE use for patient and healthcare worker safety in assessing its value.

In order to protect patients from disease transmission during a pandemic, hospitals might also reconsider whether to use PPE in cases in which evidence is absent, such as routine prevention for colonized but noninfected patients. However, evidence of the possible patient harms of PPE are emerging. Healthcare providers spend less time with isolated patients^9,10 and document fewer vital signs.¹¹ Patients in PPE may experience delays in admission¹² and discharge,¹³ and have higher rates of falls, pressure ulcers, and medication errors.^14,15 They may also experience higher rates of anxiety and depression.¹⁶ Yet no evidence suggests PPE use for noninfected patients prevents transmission to patients or to healthcare workers. Using PPE when it is not indicated deemphasizes the value of other preventative precautions (eg, handwashing), unnecessarily depletes PPE supply, and may create patient harm without added benefit. High-value PPE, both during a pandemic and beyond, is defined by a system designed so that healthcare workers use PPE when they need it, and do not use PPE when not indicated.

While all hospitalized patients are admitted using standard precautions, decisions surrounding PPE can be nuanced for even experienced clinicians. Although the CDC does provide guidance for PPE use based on symptoms that correlate with potential for transmission (eg, patients with cough should be placed in at least droplet precautions),¹ guidelines must rely on provider evaluation and interpretation. For instance, three etiologies of cough—pneumococcal pneumonia, RSV bronchiolitis, and pulmonary tuberculosis—would all require different PPE. The clinician must weigh the probabilities of each pathogen and assess the harm of not protecting against certain pathogens in his or her decision.

Amidst the stress and cognitive burdens placed on clinicians, accuracy in PPE decisions is easily deprioritized. Clinicians may not completely consider patient-specific indications for PPE, implications for patients and staff, and supply shortages. Although the CDC and many hospitals have PPE initiation and discontinuation criteria, clinicians may favor educated guesswork and reliance on past experience when guidelines are poorly accessible or poorly searchable. Such individual, nonstandardized decisions likely lead to variability in practice patterns, inaccuracies in PPE decisions, and ultimately waste of PPE resources.

At our institution, the inconveniences, cognitive burden, and perceived benefit of routine PPE interventions have created a system in which PPE is regularly overused. On our hospital medicine wards, we found that PPE was both over-ordered upon admission (eg, contact/droplet precautions ordered for influenza when droplet precautions only would have sufficed) and unnecessarily continued even after children met discontinuation criteria.

On discharge review from our general pediatric ward in 2019, 18% of children discharged with PPE orders no longer met criteria for PPE. Two conditions—community-acquired bacterial pneumonia and skin and soft-tissue infections—accounted for 47% of discharges with unnecessary PPE orders. At an estimated cost of $0.13-$0.53 for droplet precautions per use, $0.69 for contact precautions, and $0.82-$1.22 for both, the absolute cost of continuing PPE without indication could be as high as $61/day per patient when estimating 50 uses per day. This direct cost represents healthcare spending without added value when PPE are not necessary. Furthermore, the additional emotional cost to the patient and family in their hospitalization experience, the cost of clinician time donning and doffing, the environmental cost of PPE waste, and the cost to the limited PPE supply are not considered in these calculations.

During a pandemic characterized by PPE shortages nationwide, allowing missed opportunities for PPE discontinuation to persist is not only wasteful, but inattentive to public health.

For individual clinicians, opportunities exist to improve PPE usage in daily patient care. Clinicians should not overlook PPE decisions; instead they should make it a practice to review PPE orders daily during rounds as they would lab orders. Clinicians and nursing staff should work together to identify PPE discontinuation opportunities, leveraging the electronic medical record when possible. For the benefit of patients and families, clinicians and bedside staff should recognize and assist in managing patient expectations of PPE.

Hospitals should work to make PPE references easily accessible and interpretable by frontline clinicians. To minimize variability of use, PPE ordering for routine conditions should be standardized and streamlined, including discontinuation criteria. Hospitals should invest in behavioral health programs to support patients with conditions necessitating PPE and develop policies to ensure ancillary services are equally available to all patients. To alleviate concerns about limited clinician time spent with isolated patients, hospitals should assign clinician workloads while accounting for the known increased time needed to care for patients with PPE.

For hospitals with extreme supply shortages, conservation might include decreased use of PPE for conditions in which its use is controversial (eg, patients colonized with methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus or multidrug resistant organisms) as has been trialed in institutions prior to this pandemic.^17,18 Such PPE policy changes might occur in addition to, or in conjunction with, the conservation strategies suggested by other institutions (Table).

Healthcare systems should continually reassess the value of PPE for their hospitals and make changes accordingly. In the midst of difficulties directly demonstrating PPE’s value, hospitals must rely on the inherent rationale of PPE use in assessing value decisions weighed against harms while balancing healthcare worker protection regulations. Decisions should always occur while continuing other sensible infection-control procedures, such as handwashing and environmental hygiene measures.

To effect maximal change, healthcare systems should invest in redesigning PPE ordering systems at the highest level. This should include harnessing existing technologies to streamline PPE ordering decisions to meet clinicians’ cognitive needs. Decision support and auditing technologies could automate and monitor PPE orders efficiently. Likely to be most effective, an investment in creating and maintaining centralized PPE expert management teams to assess, order, and discontinue PPE would minimize individual ordering variation, minimize cost, and maximize value to patients, staff, and hospitals.

In this pandemic, we have the opportunity to rethink how we understand and use PPE in hospitalized patients. It is vitally important now more than ever to consciously conserve the limited supply of PPE resources. As we seek to increase healthcare value while limiting overuse and waste, PPE is a prime target for value improvement efforts as the effective but also burdensome tool that it is. Hospitalists are well-positioned to lead the redesign of how, when, and why PPE is used and to create a more optimized, lasting system that provides maximal value to patients, families, and healthcare workers during this current crisis and beyond.

Due to the pandemic spread of the severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), the cause of COVID-19 infection, there is significant disruption to the global supply of PPE.² Order volumes of PPE have increased, prices have surged, and distributors are experiencing challenges meeting order demands.³ With decreased overseas exports, suppliers have placed hospitals on PPE allocations, and many hospitals’ orders for PPE have been only partially filled.^3,4 Unless hospitals have established stockpiles, most only have supplies for 3-7 days of routine use, leaving them vulnerable to exhausting PPE supplies. At the onset of the pandemic, 86% of United States hospitals reported concerns about their PPE supply.⁴

The potential for PPE shortages has led both the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the World Health Organization to call for the rational and appropriate use of PPE in order to conserve supplies.^2,3 By the time COVID-19 was declared a pandemic, 54% of hospitals had imposed PPE conservation protocols,⁴ with more expected to follow in the weeks and months to come. Innovative protocols have been conceptualized and used to conserve PPE in hospitals (Table).

Yet these conservation protocols often fail to identify missed opportunities to improve the value of PPE that already exist in hospital care. By defining the value of inpatient PPE, hospitals can identify opportunities for value improvement. Changes implemented now will maximize PPE value and preserve supply during this pandemic and beyond.

In order to conserve PPE supply, hospitals might consider limiting PPE to cases in which clear evidence exists to support its use. However, evidence for PPE use can be challenging to interpret because the impact of preventing nosocomial infections (an outcome that did not occur) is inherently problematic to measure. This makes assessing the value of PPE in preventing nosocomial transmission in specific situations difficult.

The basis of using PPE is its effectiveness in controlling outbreaks.¹ A meta-analysis of 6 case-control studies from the SARS outbreak of 2003, which disproportionately infected healthcare workers, suggested that handwashing and PPE were effective in preventing disease transmission. Handwashing alone reduced transmission by 55%, wearing gloves by 57%, and wearing facemasks by 68%; the cumulative effect of handwashing, masks, gloves, and gowns reduced transmission by 91%.⁵ A cohort study of healthcare workers exposed to H1N1 influenza A in 2009 found that use of a facemask or an N95 respirator was associated with negative viral serology suggesting noninfected status.⁶ With respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) outbreaks, a narrative synthesis of 4 studies examining transmission also suggested gowns, facemasks, and eye protection are effective, with eye protection perhaps more effective than gowns and masks.⁷ Yet these studies’ conclusions are limited by study design differences and small sample sizes.

The evidence supporting PPE use for routine hospital conditions is more challenging to interpret. One pediatric study of seasonal respiratory viruses showed that adding droplet precautions to an existing policy of contact precautions alone decreased nosocomial infections for most viruses evaluated.⁸ Yet this study, like many of PPE use, is limited by sample size and possible misclassification of exposure and outcome biases. Because PPE is always utilized in conjunction with other preventive measures, isolating the impact of PPE is challenging, let alone isolating the individual effects of PPE components. In the absence of strong empirical evidence, hospitals must rely on the inherent rationale of PPE use for patient and healthcare worker safety in assessing its value.

In order to protect patients from disease transmission during a pandemic, hospitals might also reconsider whether to use PPE in cases in which evidence is absent, such as routine prevention for colonized but noninfected patients. However, evidence of the possible patient harms of PPE are emerging. Healthcare providers spend less time with isolated patients^9,10 and document fewer vital signs.¹¹ Patients in PPE may experience delays in admission¹² and discharge,¹³ and have higher rates of falls, pressure ulcers, and medication errors.^14,15 They may also experience higher rates of anxiety and depression.¹⁶ Yet no evidence suggests PPE use for noninfected patients prevents transmission to patients or to healthcare workers. Using PPE when it is not indicated deemphasizes the value of other preventative precautions (eg, handwashing), unnecessarily depletes PPE supply, and may create patient harm without added benefit. High-value PPE, both during a pandemic and beyond, is defined by a system designed so that healthcare workers use PPE when they need it, and do not use PPE when not indicated.

While all hospitalized patients are admitted using standard precautions, decisions surrounding PPE can be nuanced for even experienced clinicians. Although the CDC does provide guidance for PPE use based on symptoms that correlate with potential for transmission (eg, patients with cough should be placed in at least droplet precautions),¹ guidelines must rely on provider evaluation and interpretation. For instance, three etiologies of cough—pneumococcal pneumonia, RSV bronchiolitis, and pulmonary tuberculosis—would all require different PPE. The clinician must weigh the probabilities of each pathogen and assess the harm of not protecting against certain pathogens in his or her decision.

Amidst the stress and cognitive burdens placed on clinicians, accuracy in PPE decisions is easily deprioritized. Clinicians may not completely consider patient-specific indications for PPE, implications for patients and staff, and supply shortages. Although the CDC and many hospitals have PPE initiation and discontinuation criteria, clinicians may favor educated guesswork and reliance on past experience when guidelines are poorly accessible or poorly searchable. Such individual, nonstandardized decisions likely lead to variability in practice patterns, inaccuracies in PPE decisions, and ultimately waste of PPE resources.

At our institution, the inconveniences, cognitive burden, and perceived benefit of routine PPE interventions have created a system in which PPE is regularly overused. On our hospital medicine wards, we found that PPE was both over-ordered upon admission (eg, contact/droplet precautions ordered for influenza when droplet precautions only would have sufficed) and unnecessarily continued even after children met discontinuation criteria.

On discharge review from our general pediatric ward in 2019, 18% of children discharged with PPE orders no longer met criteria for PPE. Two conditions—community-acquired bacterial pneumonia and skin and soft-tissue infections—accounted for 47% of discharges with unnecessary PPE orders. At an estimated cost of $0.13-$0.53 for droplet precautions per use, $0.69 for contact precautions, and $0.82-$1.22 for both, the absolute cost of continuing PPE without indication could be as high as $61/day per patient when estimating 50 uses per day. This direct cost represents healthcare spending without added value when PPE are not necessary. Furthermore, the additional emotional cost to the patient and family in their hospitalization experience, the cost of clinician time donning and doffing, the environmental cost of PPE waste, and the cost to the limited PPE supply are not considered in these calculations.

During a pandemic characterized by PPE shortages nationwide, allowing missed opportunities for PPE discontinuation to persist is not only wasteful, but inattentive to public health.

For individual clinicians, opportunities exist to improve PPE usage in daily patient care. Clinicians should not overlook PPE decisions; instead they should make it a practice to review PPE orders daily during rounds as they would lab orders. Clinicians and nursing staff should work together to identify PPE discontinuation opportunities, leveraging the electronic medical record when possible. For the benefit of patients and families, clinicians and bedside staff should recognize and assist in managing patient expectations of PPE.

Hospitals should work to make PPE references easily accessible and interpretable by frontline clinicians. To minimize variability of use, PPE ordering for routine conditions should be standardized and streamlined, including discontinuation criteria. Hospitals should invest in behavioral health programs to support patients with conditions necessitating PPE and develop policies to ensure ancillary services are equally available to all patients. To alleviate concerns about limited clinician time spent with isolated patients, hospitals should assign clinician workloads while accounting for the known increased time needed to care for patients with PPE.

For hospitals with extreme supply shortages, conservation might include decreased use of PPE for conditions in which its use is controversial (eg, patients colonized with methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus or multidrug resistant organisms) as has been trialed in institutions prior to this pandemic.^17,18 Such PPE policy changes might occur in addition to, or in conjunction with, the conservation strategies suggested by other institutions (Table).

Healthcare systems should continually reassess the value of PPE for their hospitals and make changes accordingly. In the midst of difficulties directly demonstrating PPE’s value, hospitals must rely on the inherent rationale of PPE use in assessing value decisions weighed against harms while balancing healthcare worker protection regulations. Decisions should always occur while continuing other sensible infection-control procedures, such as handwashing and environmental hygiene measures.

To effect maximal change, healthcare systems should invest in redesigning PPE ordering systems at the highest level. This should include harnessing existing technologies to streamline PPE ordering decisions to meet clinicians’ cognitive needs. Decision support and auditing technologies could automate and monitor PPE orders efficiently. Likely to be most effective, an investment in creating and maintaining centralized PPE expert management teams to assess, order, and discontinue PPE would minimize individual ordering variation, minimize cost, and maximize value to patients, staff, and hospitals.

In this pandemic, we have the opportunity to rethink how we understand and use PPE in hospitalized patients. It is vitally important now more than ever to consciously conserve the limited supply of PPE resources. As we seek to increase healthcare value while limiting overuse and waste, PPE is a prime target for value improvement efforts as the effective but also burdensome tool that it is. Hospitalists are well-positioned to lead the redesign of how, when, and why PPE is used and to create a more optimized, lasting system that provides maximal value to patients, families, and healthcare workers during this current crisis and beyond.

In a few short months, the novel coronavirus SARS-CoV-2 has spread across the world, and illness caused by coronavirus 2019, or COVID-19, now affects every corner of the United States.¹ As healthcare systems prepare to care for a wave of affected patients, those with a teaching mission face the added challenge of balancing the educational needs and safety of trainees with those of delivering patient care. In response to concerns for student welfare, medical and nursing schools have suspended classroom-based education and clinical rotations.² The Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education (ACGME) and American Association of Colleges of Nursing (AACN) have emphasized the importance of adequate training in the use of personal protective equipment (PPE) for their trainees.³ The National League for Nursing has called on training programs to allow flexibility for graduating students who may have been removed from clinical rotations because of safety concerns.⁴

These decisions have precedent: During the SARS-CoV epidemic in 2003, medical and nursing student education was temporarily halted in affected areas.^5-6 Healthcare trainees described concerns for their safety and reported adverse emotional impact.^7-9 In the current pandemic, there is variation in how countries around the world are approaching the role of learners, with options ranging from removing learners from the clinical environment to encouraging early graduation for students in hopes of ameliorating the impending physician shortage.^10-13 The need to balance educational goals with ethical concerns raised by this pandemic affects health professions trainees broadly.

Despite the challenges, there are unique educational opportunities at hand. In this Perspective, we draw on our collective experience, multiple informal interviews with educational leaders across the country, and educational literature to create a framework for health professions education during a crisis. From this framework, we propose a set of recommendations to assist educational policymakers and those working directly with learners to navigate these issues effectively.

Patient and Hospital Welfare

There are significant concerns about nosocomial spread of SARS-CoV-2. Having learners directly see COVID-19 patients can increase the risk of nosocomial spread. In one of the original case series, 29% of those infected were health care workers and 12.3% were patients hospitalized prior to infection.¹⁴ Additionally, preserving supplies of personal protective equipment (PPE) for healthcare workers has been a commonly cited reason for suspending student presence on clinical rotations. Insufficient supply of PPE has forced hospitals to relax PPE guidelines for those seeing patients under investigation and liberalize quarantine requirements for exposed health care workers, so many hospitals have reduced provider-patient interactions to only those considered essential.

Learner Welfare

As educators, we have a duty to keep our learners safe and psychologically well. The COVID-19 pandemic poses a risk of illness, permanent injury, or death among those infected. In some instances, the risks of exposure may be greater than the educational benefits of remaining in that clinical setting; however, health professions trainees at many institutions play such a central operational role that their absence could seriously impair overall care delivery. Furthermore, trainees are usually younger and healthier than supervising clinicians, which could leave them feeling an obligation to conduct a disproportionately large share of the direct patient contact. Despite these valid concerns, those being removed from the clinical environment for their safety could misinterpret it as a sign that their contributions or educational interests are not valued.

Educational Experience

Canceled clinical rotations will have significant negative educational effects on undergraduate learners. Depending on the extent of the pandemic’s effects, for example, third-year medical students may lack core rotations prior to applying for residency training. Other health professions face similar challenges—nursing students in their final year are likely missing their last opportunity for hands-on clinical training before graduation. Advanced practice nursing students may not be able to complete the required number of contact hours or clinical experiences mandated for accreditation. Graduate training programs must accommodate and adapt to these disparities when reviewing their applicant pools.

Absence from the clinical front lines, though, risks failing to capitalize on the unique educational opportunities presented by this pandemic. Students might miss the chance to learn about a new clinical entity and its increasingly varied clinical presentations, crisis medicine, infection control measures, emergency preparedness, ethics in the setting of scarce resources, public health and community response, communication in the setting of uncertainty and fear, and professionalism in the response to this singular situation. Trainees at all levels may miss the opportunity to stand alongside their teachers and peers to give care to those who need it most.

Heterogeneity of COVID-19 Responses Across the Country

The diversity of training sites in US health professions education has led to a wide range of responses to these challenges. In addition to regional variations, sites within individual academic programs are creating different educational and clinical polices, including the role of learners in the care of COVID-19 patients and even PPE requirements. Although educational accreditation bodies have offered guidance, implementation of creative responses has been left to individual schools, programs, and hospitals, creating important differences in learner training and experience.

Given these challenges, we offer four broad principles to guide health professions education in response to this pandemic. Within this framework, we offer multiple suggestions to individual educators, health professions programs, healthcare systems, and educational policymakers.

1. Prioritize healthcare system welfare: Patients are the core of our professional responsibility, and their needs take precedence. First and foremost, plans for our learners must always promote and support the proper functioning of the health system and its individual healthcare workers. To support care delivery, healthcare systems should do the following:

• Ensure educational activities minimize the risk of nosocomial transmission and adverse effects on patient safety. For example, hospitals can modify bedside care to reduce exposure by using phone or video for patient-trainee contact, performing selective physical examination only, and, when needed, prioritizing a single skilled examiner.
• Ensure learner use of PPE does not negatively affect availability for others, both now and as the pandemic unfolds.
• Engage learners in authentic, value-added healthcare activities outside of direct patient contact: tele-medicine, meeting with families, or spending video time with inpatients not under their direct care.

2. Promote learner welfare: Educators have a duty to ensure the physical and psychological safety of learners across the health professions continuum. By virtue of power differentials in the hierarchy of the teaching environment, learners can be particularly vulnerable. To promote learner wellbeing, educators should do the following:

• Deploy technology to maximize opportunities for and quality of non–face-to-face clinical, didactic, and interprofessional learning.
• Ensure learners have access to and proper training in the use of PPE, independent of whether they may be using PPE as part of clinical responsibilities, while remaining aware of the potential supply constraints during a pandemic.
• Deliberately include stop points during teaching for dialogue around fears, stress, resilience, and coping.¹⁵ Deploy additional resources for support, including in-person or virtual psychological and psychiatric care and crisis intervention counseling.
• Maintain flexibility regarding trainee’s educational needs. For example, welcome trainees from other services joining inpatient medicine or ICU teams. Acknowledge the stress they may feel and support them as they learn and adapt. This can be a unique opportunity for lessons in professionalism, teamwork, and communication.

3. Maximize educational value: Efforts must be made to preserve educational quality and content, limit educational cost, and leverage unique opportunities that may only be available during this time. Educators and programs should do the following:

• Adapt teaching to reflect changes in the hospital environment. A student may have spent more time on the phone with a patient; the nurse may have examined the patient; a resident may have vital sign and lab data; the attending may have spoken to the family or know about local policy changes affecting care. The usual modes of rounding should adapt, focusing on sharing and synthesizing multisource data to generate rapid, intelligent plans while mitigating risk.
• Turn the potential challenge of diminished access to previously routine diagnostic testing into an opportunity for trainees to assertively develop clinical skills often underutilized in practice environments without resource limitation.
• Discuss learning opportunities for healthcare ethics. Multiple aspects of this pandemic raise ethical issues around allocation of scarce resources and principles such as contingency and crisis standards of care: the availability and application of testing, potential changes to patient triage standards in which patients sicker than ever may be sent home, and crisis allocation of life support resources.
• Highlight opportunities to support interprofessional education and collaborative practice. As traditional professional boundaries are temporarily blurred, we may find nurses asking gowned physicians to perform nursing tasks (eg, inflate blood pressure cuffs). Physicians may ask nurses for patient-related information (eg, physical examination findings), all to limit collective risk, maximize efficiency, and minimize the use of scarce PPE.
• Teach telemedicine. This is an opportunity to create a cadre of clinicians adept with this type of practice for the future—even outside pandemics. Now may be the time for virtual visits to be better integrated into clinical practice, which has been of interest to patients and providers for some time, and to address the constraints of reimbursement policies.
• Provide explicit role modeling to ensure learners recognize and learn from the key components of faculty activity—modeling communication skills, engaging in clinical reasoning, or navigating clinical and professional uncertainty.¹⁶ For example, faculty could share their clinical reasoning regarding diagnosis of respiratory complaints. While COVID-19 may be the most urgent diagnostic consideration, educators can emphasize the risk and implications of anchoring bias as an important cause of diagnostic errors.
• Identify opportunities for educational scholarship around these and other changes resulting from the pandemic. Seek to engage learners in this work.

4. Communicate transparently: Learners must be witness to decision-making processes; this will demonstrate that their safety and education are valued. Wherever possible, include learners in decision-making discussions and in the process of disseminating information.

• At the institutional level, generate, modify, and share communication regarding the ways that education is changing and the values and goals behind those changes.
• Invite trainees as active contributors to intellectual exchanges regarding changes in the learning environment.
• Limit the negative impact of the “rumor mill” by replacing it with frequent, targeted, and accurate messaging that relies on evidence to the greatest extent possible.
• Strive for consistency in communication content but diversity in distribution to reach the learners in the most effective ways. In times of uncertainty and stress, err on the side of overcommunication.

Healthcare and medical education face a challenge unprecedented in our lifetimes. The COVID-19 pandemic will touch every aspect of how we care for patients, train the next generation of health professionals, and keep ourselves safe. By highlighting key issues facing health professions educators, offering a framework for education during pandemics, and providing specific suggestions for applying this framework, we hope to provide clarity on how we may advance our teaching mission and realize the educational opportunities as we face this crisis together.

In a few short months, the novel coronavirus SARS-CoV-2 has spread across the world, and illness caused by coronavirus 2019, or COVID-19, now affects every corner of the United States.¹ As healthcare systems prepare to care for a wave of affected patients, those with a teaching mission face the added challenge of balancing the educational needs and safety of trainees with those of delivering patient care. In response to concerns for student welfare, medical and nursing schools have suspended classroom-based education and clinical rotations.² The Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education (ACGME) and American Association of Colleges of Nursing (AACN) have emphasized the importance of adequate training in the use of personal protective equipment (PPE) for their trainees.³ The National League for Nursing has called on training programs to allow flexibility for graduating students who may have been removed from clinical rotations because of safety concerns.⁴

These decisions have precedent: During the SARS-CoV epidemic in 2003, medical and nursing student education was temporarily halted in affected areas.^5-6 Healthcare trainees described concerns for their safety and reported adverse emotional impact.^7-9 In the current pandemic, there is variation in how countries around the world are approaching the role of learners, with options ranging from removing learners from the clinical environment to encouraging early graduation for students in hopes of ameliorating the impending physician shortage.^10-13 The need to balance educational goals with ethical concerns raised by this pandemic affects health professions trainees broadly.

Despite the challenges, there are unique educational opportunities at hand. In this Perspective, we draw on our collective experience, multiple informal interviews with educational leaders across the country, and educational literature to create a framework for health professions education during a crisis. From this framework, we propose a set of recommendations to assist educational policymakers and those working directly with learners to navigate these issues effectively.

Patient and Hospital Welfare

There are significant concerns about nosocomial spread of SARS-CoV-2. Having learners directly see COVID-19 patients can increase the risk of nosocomial spread. In one of the original case series, 29% of those infected were health care workers and 12.3% were patients hospitalized prior to infection.¹⁴ Additionally, preserving supplies of personal protective equipment (PPE) for healthcare workers has been a commonly cited reason for suspending student presence on clinical rotations. Insufficient supply of PPE has forced hospitals to relax PPE guidelines for those seeing patients under investigation and liberalize quarantine requirements for exposed health care workers, so many hospitals have reduced provider-patient interactions to only those considered essential.

Learner Welfare

As educators, we have a duty to keep our learners safe and psychologically well. The COVID-19 pandemic poses a risk of illness, permanent injury, or death among those infected. In some instances, the risks of exposure may be greater than the educational benefits of remaining in that clinical setting; however, health professions trainees at many institutions play such a central operational role that their absence could seriously impair overall care delivery. Furthermore, trainees are usually younger and healthier than supervising clinicians, which could leave them feeling an obligation to conduct a disproportionately large share of the direct patient contact. Despite these valid concerns, those being removed from the clinical environment for their safety could misinterpret it as a sign that their contributions or educational interests are not valued.

Educational Experience

Canceled clinical rotations will have significant negative educational effects on undergraduate learners. Depending on the extent of the pandemic’s effects, for example, third-year medical students may lack core rotations prior to applying for residency training. Other health professions face similar challenges—nursing students in their final year are likely missing their last opportunity for hands-on clinical training before graduation. Advanced practice nursing students may not be able to complete the required number of contact hours or clinical experiences mandated for accreditation. Graduate training programs must accommodate and adapt to these disparities when reviewing their applicant pools.

Absence from the clinical front lines, though, risks failing to capitalize on the unique educational opportunities presented by this pandemic. Students might miss the chance to learn about a new clinical entity and its increasingly varied clinical presentations, crisis medicine, infection control measures, emergency preparedness, ethics in the setting of scarce resources, public health and community response, communication in the setting of uncertainty and fear, and professionalism in the response to this singular situation. Trainees at all levels may miss the opportunity to stand alongside their teachers and peers to give care to those who need it most.

Heterogeneity of COVID-19 Responses Across the Country

The diversity of training sites in US health professions education has led to a wide range of responses to these challenges. In addition to regional variations, sites within individual academic programs are creating different educational and clinical polices, including the role of learners in the care of COVID-19 patients and even PPE requirements. Although educational accreditation bodies have offered guidance, implementation of creative responses has been left to individual schools, programs, and hospitals, creating important differences in learner training and experience.

Given these challenges, we offer four broad principles to guide health professions education in response to this pandemic. Within this framework, we offer multiple suggestions to individual educators, health professions programs, healthcare systems, and educational policymakers.

1. Prioritize healthcare system welfare: Patients are the core of our professional responsibility, and their needs take precedence. First and foremost, plans for our learners must always promote and support the proper functioning of the health system and its individual healthcare workers. To support care delivery, healthcare systems should do the following:

• Ensure educational activities minimize the risk of nosocomial transmission and adverse effects on patient safety. For example, hospitals can modify bedside care to reduce exposure by using phone or video for patient-trainee contact, performing selective physical examination only, and, when needed, prioritizing a single skilled examiner.
• Ensure learner use of PPE does not negatively affect availability for others, both now and as the pandemic unfolds.
• Engage learners in authentic, value-added healthcare activities outside of direct patient contact: tele-medicine, meeting with families, or spending video time with inpatients not under their direct care.

2. Promote learner welfare: Educators have a duty to ensure the physical and psychological safety of learners across the health professions continuum. By virtue of power differentials in the hierarchy of the teaching environment, learners can be particularly vulnerable. To promote learner wellbeing, educators should do the following:

• Deploy technology to maximize opportunities for and quality of non–face-to-face clinical, didactic, and interprofessional learning.
• Ensure learners have access to and proper training in the use of PPE, independent of whether they may be using PPE as part of clinical responsibilities, while remaining aware of the potential supply constraints during a pandemic.
• Deliberately include stop points during teaching for dialogue around fears, stress, resilience, and coping.¹⁵ Deploy additional resources for support, including in-person or virtual psychological and psychiatric care and crisis intervention counseling.
• Maintain flexibility regarding trainee’s educational needs. For example, welcome trainees from other services joining inpatient medicine or ICU teams. Acknowledge the stress they may feel and support them as they learn and adapt. This can be a unique opportunity for lessons in professionalism, teamwork, and communication.

3. Maximize educational value: Efforts must be made to preserve educational quality and content, limit educational cost, and leverage unique opportunities that may only be available during this time. Educators and programs should do the following:

• Adapt teaching to reflect changes in the hospital environment. A student may have spent more time on the phone with a patient; the nurse may have examined the patient; a resident may have vital sign and lab data; the attending may have spoken to the family or know about local policy changes affecting care. The usual modes of rounding should adapt, focusing on sharing and synthesizing multisource data to generate rapid, intelligent plans while mitigating risk.
• Turn the potential challenge of diminished access to previously routine diagnostic testing into an opportunity for trainees to assertively develop clinical skills often underutilized in practice environments without resource limitation.
• Discuss learning opportunities for healthcare ethics. Multiple aspects of this pandemic raise ethical issues around allocation of scarce resources and principles such as contingency and crisis standards of care: the availability and application of testing, potential changes to patient triage standards in which patients sicker than ever may be sent home, and crisis allocation of life support resources.
• Highlight opportunities to support interprofessional education and collaborative practice. As traditional professional boundaries are temporarily blurred, we may find nurses asking gowned physicians to perform nursing tasks (eg, inflate blood pressure cuffs). Physicians may ask nurses for patient-related information (eg, physical examination findings), all to limit collective risk, maximize efficiency, and minimize the use of scarce PPE.
• Teach telemedicine. This is an opportunity to create a cadre of clinicians adept with this type of practice for the future—even outside pandemics. Now may be the time for virtual visits to be better integrated into clinical practice, which has been of interest to patients and providers for some time, and to address the constraints of reimbursement policies.
• Provide explicit role modeling to ensure learners recognize and learn from the key components of faculty activity—modeling communication skills, engaging in clinical reasoning, or navigating clinical and professional uncertainty.¹⁶ For example, faculty could share their clinical reasoning regarding diagnosis of respiratory complaints. While COVID-19 may be the most urgent diagnostic consideration, educators can emphasize the risk and implications of anchoring bias as an important cause of diagnostic errors.
• Identify opportunities for educational scholarship around these and other changes resulting from the pandemic. Seek to engage learners in this work.

4. Communicate transparently: Learners must be witness to decision-making processes; this will demonstrate that their safety and education are valued. Wherever possible, include learners in decision-making discussions and in the process of disseminating information.

• At the institutional level, generate, modify, and share communication regarding the ways that education is changing and the values and goals behind those changes.
• Invite trainees as active contributors to intellectual exchanges regarding changes in the learning environment.
• Limit the negative impact of the “rumor mill” by replacing it with frequent, targeted, and accurate messaging that relies on evidence to the greatest extent possible.
• Strive for consistency in communication content but diversity in distribution to reach the learners in the most effective ways. In times of uncertainty and stress, err on the side of overcommunication.

Healthcare and medical education face a challenge unprecedented in our lifetimes. The COVID-19 pandemic will touch every aspect of how we care for patients, train the next generation of health professionals, and keep ourselves safe. By highlighting key issues facing health professions educators, offering a framework for education during pandemics, and providing specific suggestions for applying this framework, we hope to provide clarity on how we may advance our teaching mission and realize the educational opportunities as we face this crisis together.

In a few short months, the novel coronavirus SARS-CoV-2 has spread across the world, and illness caused by coronavirus 2019, or COVID-19, now affects every corner of the United States.¹ As healthcare systems prepare to care for a wave of affected patients, those with a teaching mission face the added challenge of balancing the educational needs and safety of trainees with those of delivering patient care. In response to concerns for student welfare, medical and nursing schools have suspended classroom-based education and clinical rotations.² The Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education (ACGME) and American Association of Colleges of Nursing (AACN) have emphasized the importance of adequate training in the use of personal protective equipment (PPE) for their trainees.³ The National League for Nursing has called on training programs to allow flexibility for graduating students who may have been removed from clinical rotations because of safety concerns.⁴

These decisions have precedent: During the SARS-CoV epidemic in 2003, medical and nursing student education was temporarily halted in affected areas.^5-6 Healthcare trainees described concerns for their safety and reported adverse emotional impact.^7-9 In the current pandemic, there is variation in how countries around the world are approaching the role of learners, with options ranging from removing learners from the clinical environment to encouraging early graduation for students in hopes of ameliorating the impending physician shortage.^10-13 The need to balance educational goals with ethical concerns raised by this pandemic affects health professions trainees broadly.

Despite the challenges, there are unique educational opportunities at hand. In this Perspective, we draw on our collective experience, multiple informal interviews with educational leaders across the country, and educational literature to create a framework for health professions education during a crisis. From this framework, we propose a set of recommendations to assist educational policymakers and those working directly with learners to navigate these issues effectively.

Patient and Hospital Welfare

There are significant concerns about nosocomial spread of SARS-CoV-2. Having learners directly see COVID-19 patients can increase the risk of nosocomial spread. In one of the original case series, 29% of those infected were health care workers and 12.3% were patients hospitalized prior to infection.¹⁴ Additionally, preserving supplies of personal protective equipment (PPE) for healthcare workers has been a commonly cited reason for suspending student presence on clinical rotations. Insufficient supply of PPE has forced hospitals to relax PPE guidelines for those seeing patients under investigation and liberalize quarantine requirements for exposed health care workers, so many hospitals have reduced provider-patient interactions to only those considered essential.

Learner Welfare

As educators, we have a duty to keep our learners safe and psychologically well. The COVID-19 pandemic poses a risk of illness, permanent injury, or death among those infected. In some instances, the risks of exposure may be greater than the educational benefits of remaining in that clinical setting; however, health professions trainees at many institutions play such a central operational role that their absence could seriously impair overall care delivery. Furthermore, trainees are usually younger and healthier than supervising clinicians, which could leave them feeling an obligation to conduct a disproportionately large share of the direct patient contact. Despite these valid concerns, those being removed from the clinical environment for their safety could misinterpret it as a sign that their contributions or educational interests are not valued.

Educational Experience

Canceled clinical rotations will have significant negative educational effects on undergraduate learners. Depending on the extent of the pandemic’s effects, for example, third-year medical students may lack core rotations prior to applying for residency training. Other health professions face similar challenges—nursing students in their final year are likely missing their last opportunity for hands-on clinical training before graduation. Advanced practice nursing students may not be able to complete the required number of contact hours or clinical experiences mandated for accreditation. Graduate training programs must accommodate and adapt to these disparities when reviewing their applicant pools.

Absence from the clinical front lines, though, risks failing to capitalize on the unique educational opportunities presented by this pandemic. Students might miss the chance to learn about a new clinical entity and its increasingly varied clinical presentations, crisis medicine, infection control measures, emergency preparedness, ethics in the setting of scarce resources, public health and community response, communication in the setting of uncertainty and fear, and professionalism in the response to this singular situation. Trainees at all levels may miss the opportunity to stand alongside their teachers and peers to give care to those who need it most.

Heterogeneity of COVID-19 Responses Across the Country

The diversity of training sites in US health professions education has led to a wide range of responses to these challenges. In addition to regional variations, sites within individual academic programs are creating different educational and clinical polices, including the role of learners in the care of COVID-19 patients and even PPE requirements. Although educational accreditation bodies have offered guidance, implementation of creative responses has been left to individual schools, programs, and hospitals, creating important differences in learner training and experience.

Given these challenges, we offer four broad principles to guide health professions education in response to this pandemic. Within this framework, we offer multiple suggestions to individual educators, health professions programs, healthcare systems, and educational policymakers.

1. Prioritize healthcare system welfare: Patients are the core of our professional responsibility, and their needs take precedence. First and foremost, plans for our learners must always promote and support the proper functioning of the health system and its individual healthcare workers. To support care delivery, healthcare systems should do the following:

• Ensure educational activities minimize the risk of nosocomial transmission and adverse effects on patient safety. For example, hospitals can modify bedside care to reduce exposure by using phone or video for patient-trainee contact, performing selective physical examination only, and, when needed, prioritizing a single skilled examiner.
• Ensure learner use of PPE does not negatively affect availability for others, both now and as the pandemic unfolds.
• Engage learners in authentic, value-added healthcare activities outside of direct patient contact: tele-medicine, meeting with families, or spending video time with inpatients not under their direct care.

2. Promote learner welfare: Educators have a duty to ensure the physical and psychological safety of learners across the health professions continuum. By virtue of power differentials in the hierarchy of the teaching environment, learners can be particularly vulnerable. To promote learner wellbeing, educators should do the following:

• Deploy technology to maximize opportunities for and quality of non–face-to-face clinical, didactic, and interprofessional learning.
• Ensure learners have access to and proper training in the use of PPE, independent of whether they may be using PPE as part of clinical responsibilities, while remaining aware of the potential supply constraints during a pandemic.
• Deliberately include stop points during teaching for dialogue around fears, stress, resilience, and coping.¹⁵ Deploy additional resources for support, including in-person or virtual psychological and psychiatric care and crisis intervention counseling.
• Maintain flexibility regarding trainee’s educational needs. For example, welcome trainees from other services joining inpatient medicine or ICU teams. Acknowledge the stress they may feel and support them as they learn and adapt. This can be a unique opportunity for lessons in professionalism, teamwork, and communication.

3. Maximize educational value: Efforts must be made to preserve educational quality and content, limit educational cost, and leverage unique opportunities that may only be available during this time. Educators and programs should do the following:

• Adapt teaching to reflect changes in the hospital environment. A student may have spent more time on the phone with a patient; the nurse may have examined the patient; a resident may have vital sign and lab data; the attending may have spoken to the family or know about local policy changes affecting care. The usual modes of rounding should adapt, focusing on sharing and synthesizing multisource data to generate rapid, intelligent plans while mitigating risk.
• Turn the potential challenge of diminished access to previously routine diagnostic testing into an opportunity for trainees to assertively develop clinical skills often underutilized in practice environments without resource limitation.
• Discuss learning opportunities for healthcare ethics. Multiple aspects of this pandemic raise ethical issues around allocation of scarce resources and principles such as contingency and crisis standards of care: the availability and application of testing, potential changes to patient triage standards in which patients sicker than ever may be sent home, and crisis allocation of life support resources.
• Highlight opportunities to support interprofessional education and collaborative practice. As traditional professional boundaries are temporarily blurred, we may find nurses asking gowned physicians to perform nursing tasks (eg, inflate blood pressure cuffs). Physicians may ask nurses for patient-related information (eg, physical examination findings), all to limit collective risk, maximize efficiency, and minimize the use of scarce PPE.
• Teach telemedicine. This is an opportunity to create a cadre of clinicians adept with this type of practice for the future—even outside pandemics. Now may be the time for virtual visits to be better integrated into clinical practice, which has been of interest to patients and providers for some time, and to address the constraints of reimbursement policies.
• Provide explicit role modeling to ensure learners recognize and learn from the key components of faculty activity—modeling communication skills, engaging in clinical reasoning, or navigating clinical and professional uncertainty.¹⁶ For example, faculty could share their clinical reasoning regarding diagnosis of respiratory complaints. While COVID-19 may be the most urgent diagnostic consideration, educators can emphasize the risk and implications of anchoring bias as an important cause of diagnostic errors.
• Identify opportunities for educational scholarship around these and other changes resulting from the pandemic. Seek to engage learners in this work.

4. Communicate transparently: Learners must be witness to decision-making processes; this will demonstrate that their safety and education are valued. Wherever possible, include learners in decision-making discussions and in the process of disseminating information.

• At the institutional level, generate, modify, and share communication regarding the ways that education is changing and the values and goals behind those changes.
• Invite trainees as active contributors to intellectual exchanges regarding changes in the learning environment.
• Limit the negative impact of the “rumor mill” by replacing it with frequent, targeted, and accurate messaging that relies on evidence to the greatest extent possible.
• Strive for consistency in communication content but diversity in distribution to reach the learners in the most effective ways. In times of uncertainty and stress, err on the side of overcommunication.

Healthcare and medical education face a challenge unprecedented in our lifetimes. The COVID-19 pandemic will touch every aspect of how we care for patients, train the next generation of health professionals, and keep ourselves safe. By highlighting key issues facing health professions educators, offering a framework for education during pandemics, and providing specific suggestions for applying this framework, we hope to provide clarity on how we may advance our teaching mission and realize the educational opportunities as we face this crisis together.

Cervical pannus is a disease that could easily develop in an active-duty soldier or veteran. The disease has been associated with trauma and rheumatoid arthritis, or can be idiopathic. For years, cervical pannus has been closely tied to rheumatoid arthritis; however, a study published in 2019 showed that only 28% of patients with cervical pannus had an associated diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis.¹ In the same study, 18% of patients had undergone some type of prior cervical spine surgery as the next most common cause. The condition also can occur years after an injury.

Background

In the US, 42,000 veterans are living with spinal cord disease, and thousands of these veterans have surgery every year.² Service men and women and veterans are at risk for cervical pannus as they age especially if they have a history of rheumatoid arthritis, cervical spine surgery, trauma, and numerous other causes. It is critical for health care providers who treat this population to understand cervical pannus, how to recognize it, and how to identify patients at risk. A cervical pannus can be life threatening if not detected and treated properly.

There is no clear definition for cervical pannus. Some researchers think of it as the chronically inflamed synovial membrane in patients with rheumatoid arthritis (RA); others consider it as a specialized synovial membrane derived from vascular soft tissue structures at or near the bone synovial membrane.³ The pathogenesis for developing a pannus is not well understood, and little is known when a pannus begins or its initial location. A pannus formation can occur in any synovial joint in the body, such as wrists, metacarpophalangeal joint, proximal interphalangeal joint, and cervical joints.

A cervical pannus can cause serious complications. It can lead to a cervical subluxation in up to 4% of patients with RA, or it also can occur spontaneously in some patients without RA especially those with trauma or cancer.⁴

There are 2 suggested mechanisms by which the synovial membrane proliferates. It was originally believed that T cells from the chronic inflamed joint lead to the pannus formation by initiating an autoimmune reaction through the production of different cytokines against arthritogenic agents.^3-5 These cytokines increase inflammation by recruiting neutrophils and activating various kinds of macrophages that might lead to increased osteoclast activity.⁶ Osteoclastic activity can damage bone and allow the synovium to penetrate the bone, forming the pannus.

Another proposed mechanism is that the synovial cells hyperpolarize and hypertrophy automatically without T-cell help by expressing oncogenes and their proteins.³ In either case, angiogenesis follows this proliferation and increases the influx of inflammatory cells into the joints, which can lead to more destruction.⁷ This increase in blood supply to the synovial membrane is important in the growth of the pannus and can have a damaging effect to cartilage, bone, and joints.^4,7

Cervical pannus can progress in patients with prolonged use of corticosteroids.⁸ Because a pannus can put pressure on any segment of the cervical spine and the cranio-cervical junction leading to cervical instability, patients with this condition may present with a variety of clinical symptoms.⁹ The most frequently reported clinical features include neck pain, easy fatigability, difficulty walking, abnormal gait, increased clumsiness, and numbness and tingling in the arms. Patients also may complain of neck stiffness and decreased neck motion.¹⁰Cervical pannus is most frequently seen in patients with RA. However, patients without a RA diagnosis and incidental atlantoaxial pannus on cervical spine magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) are unlikely to have previously undiagnosed RA.¹¹

Case Presentation

A 70-year-old white woman presented to the neurology clinic at Gretna Medical Center in Virginia in December 2016 with constant headache and imbalance that started in September 2016. She characterized the pain as predominately pressure (6 on a 10-point pain scale) with occasional shooting pains. The pain started at the left occipital lobe and radiated toward the left temporal lobe and left eye. The patient also stated that it was very difficult to lay her head down on a pillow to sleep and that she had to use a recliner in order to sleep over the past 3 months. She reported that the headache felt slightly worse if she had a lot of repetitive head and neck movements during the day. There was no photophobia, phonophobia, nausea, vomiting, facial paresthesias, lacrimation, nasal congestion, confusion, or impaired speech.

The patient’s lack of balance, which resulted in an unsteady gait, had started 1 month before and had increased significantly in the past 2 to 3 weeks. She stated that the unsteady gait was associated with numbness in her right upper and lower extremities, although more intense in the right lower extremity. Aside from the headaches, paresthesia, and unsteady gait, the patient reported no other major symptoms. She did not smoke tobacco or drink alcohol. Her family history revealed that her brothers had heart disease.

The patient’s vital signs at physical examination included heart rate, 83 beats per minute; blood pressure, 159/75 mm hg; temporal temperature, 97.9 °F; and respiratory rate, 20 breaths per minute. The patient’s gait was unsteady, needing stabilization by holding on to her husband’s arm, slightly favoring right lower extremity. Finger-to-nose test, rapid alternating movements, heel-knee-shin testing were all normal. The Romberg sign was positive. The patient could rise on toes and heels with slight balance disturbance. Deep tendon reflexes and reflexes in the upper and lower extremities was symmetric 2+ bilaterally. Musculoskeletal examination revealed strength and tone in all major muscle groups and demonstrated symmetrical movements with no fasciculation noted. A rheumatologic evaluation showed no abnormalities, including inspection of hands, feet, major joints, and other range of motion, besides her neck. The rest of the physical, cognitive, and neurologic examination findings were otherwise unremarkable. A routine rheumatologic laboratory evaluation was negative.

A head computed tomography ordered before coming to the clinic showed normal results. An MRI of the head was obtained to evaluate for ischemic cause or structural abnormality (Figures 1 and 2). Given the patient’s presentation and the pattern seen on the MRI results, it was determined that large pannus posterior to the dens, severely narrowing the spinal canal, was most likely the diagnosis. A second opinion confirmed the diagnosis, and a second MRI revealed stabilization with no signs of enhancement.

The patient was advised to meet with a neurosurgeon to remove the pannus. The patient agreed on occiput to C2 posterior instrument arthrodesis as well as decompression. A plain film radiograph showed C2-occipital repair after surgery (Figure 3). The patient recovered in the neurosurgical intensive care unit, and the rest of the recovery was uncomplicated. She showed some improvement in her headaches and unsteady gait. A postoperative pathologic evaluation of tissue was not available. She was referred to a rheumatologist to rule out an autoimmune disease as the cause for this pannus, but no autoimmune disease was found.

Discussion

Cervical pannus is relatively uncommon in those without RA. However, there are multiple reasons that a patient could develop a cervical pannus. Cervical pannus in RA and cervical pannus without RA may mimic each other clinically, but medical management is distinctly different. Consequently, a rheumatology consult is necessary to ensure that there is no undiagnosed autoimmune disorder. Our patient did not have RA, and a neurosurgery intervention was needed to manage her headaches and unsteady gait. Although we could not isolate a cause of this patient’s cervical pannus development, we believed that nonintervention would adversely affect this patient.

The course of pannus progression can be fatal especially if left untreated.¹² MRI can detect a pannus and may be helpful for planning surgery.¹³ Surgical resection has been the treatment of choice for patients with neurologic symptoms.¹⁴ However, some cases have reported resolution of pannus associated with RA and other forms of chronic atlantoaxial instability only after posterior stabilization.¹⁴In order to manage pannus, cervical spine examination for the diagnosis of cervical involvement is encouraged to prevent morbidity and mortality.¹³ There are new data that demonstrated the potential of using retinoid X receptor agonists, such as bexarotene, as a treatment against the development and progression of pannus.¹⁴

Conclusions

We present a patient with cervical pannus disease without RA whose diagnosis was based on the pathognomonic pattern seen on MRI. She showed a clinically significant recovery with an occiput to C2 posterior instrument arthrodesis as well as decompression. She showed marked improvements in her headaches and unsteady gait. This case report highlights the importance of realizing cervical pannus as a disease found in patients without RA. It serves as an alert to clinicians for timely detection, diagnosis, and initiation of treatment to prevent mortality and long-term neurologic sequelae of cervical pannus.

Although further studies of early diagnosis and treatment for cervical pannus are warranted, we propose that including pannus in a differential diagnosis for patients with no RA could be lifesaving.

Cervical pannus is a disease that could easily develop in an active-duty soldier or veteran. The disease has been associated with trauma and rheumatoid arthritis, or can be idiopathic. For years, cervical pannus has been closely tied to rheumatoid arthritis; however, a study published in 2019 showed that only 28% of patients with cervical pannus had an associated diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis.¹ In the same study, 18% of patients had undergone some type of prior cervical spine surgery as the next most common cause. The condition also can occur years after an injury.

Background

In the US, 42,000 veterans are living with spinal cord disease, and thousands of these veterans have surgery every year.² Service men and women and veterans are at risk for cervical pannus as they age especially if they have a history of rheumatoid arthritis, cervical spine surgery, trauma, and numerous other causes. It is critical for health care providers who treat this population to understand cervical pannus, how to recognize it, and how to identify patients at risk. A cervical pannus can be life threatening if not detected and treated properly.

There is no clear definition for cervical pannus. Some researchers think of it as the chronically inflamed synovial membrane in patients with rheumatoid arthritis (RA); others consider it as a specialized synovial membrane derived from vascular soft tissue structures at or near the bone synovial membrane.³ The pathogenesis for developing a pannus is not well understood, and little is known when a pannus begins or its initial location. A pannus formation can occur in any synovial joint in the body, such as wrists, metacarpophalangeal joint, proximal interphalangeal joint, and cervical joints.

A cervical pannus can cause serious complications. It can lead to a cervical subluxation in up to 4% of patients with RA, or it also can occur spontaneously in some patients without RA especially those with trauma or cancer.⁴

There are 2 suggested mechanisms by which the synovial membrane proliferates. It was originally believed that T cells from the chronic inflamed joint lead to the pannus formation by initiating an autoimmune reaction through the production of different cytokines against arthritogenic agents.^3-5 These cytokines increase inflammation by recruiting neutrophils and activating various kinds of macrophages that might lead to increased osteoclast activity.⁶ Osteoclastic activity can damage bone and allow the synovium to penetrate the bone, forming the pannus.

Another proposed mechanism is that the synovial cells hyperpolarize and hypertrophy automatically without T-cell help by expressing oncogenes and their proteins.³ In either case, angiogenesis follows this proliferation and increases the influx of inflammatory cells into the joints, which can lead to more destruction.⁷ This increase in blood supply to the synovial membrane is important in the growth of the pannus and can have a damaging effect to cartilage, bone, and joints.^4,7

Cervical pannus can progress in patients with prolonged use of corticosteroids.⁸ Because a pannus can put pressure on any segment of the cervical spine and the cranio-cervical junction leading to cervical instability, patients with this condition may present with a variety of clinical symptoms.⁹ The most frequently reported clinical features include neck pain, easy fatigability, difficulty walking, abnormal gait, increased clumsiness, and numbness and tingling in the arms. Patients also may complain of neck stiffness and decreased neck motion.¹⁰Cervical pannus is most frequently seen in patients with RA. However, patients without a RA diagnosis and incidental atlantoaxial pannus on cervical spine magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) are unlikely to have previously undiagnosed RA.¹¹

Case Presentation

A 70-year-old white woman presented to the neurology clinic at Gretna Medical Center in Virginia in December 2016 with constant headache and imbalance that started in September 2016. She characterized the pain as predominately pressure (6 on a 10-point pain scale) with occasional shooting pains. The pain started at the left occipital lobe and radiated toward the left temporal lobe and left eye. The patient also stated that it was very difficult to lay her head down on a pillow to sleep and that she had to use a recliner in order to sleep over the past 3 months. She reported that the headache felt slightly worse if she had a lot of repetitive head and neck movements during the day. There was no photophobia, phonophobia, nausea, vomiting, facial paresthesias, lacrimation, nasal congestion, confusion, or impaired speech.

The patient’s lack of balance, which resulted in an unsteady gait, had started 1 month before and had increased significantly in the past 2 to 3 weeks. She stated that the unsteady gait was associated with numbness in her right upper and lower extremities, although more intense in the right lower extremity. Aside from the headaches, paresthesia, and unsteady gait, the patient reported no other major symptoms. She did not smoke tobacco or drink alcohol. Her family history revealed that her brothers had heart disease.

The patient’s vital signs at physical examination included heart rate, 83 beats per minute; blood pressure, 159/75 mm hg; temporal temperature, 97.9 °F; and respiratory rate, 20 breaths per minute. The patient’s gait was unsteady, needing stabilization by holding on to her husband’s arm, slightly favoring right lower extremity. Finger-to-nose test, rapid alternating movements, heel-knee-shin testing were all normal. The Romberg sign was positive. The patient could rise on toes and heels with slight balance disturbance. Deep tendon reflexes and reflexes in the upper and lower extremities was symmetric 2+ bilaterally. Musculoskeletal examination revealed strength and tone in all major muscle groups and demonstrated symmetrical movements with no fasciculation noted. A rheumatologic evaluation showed no abnormalities, including inspection of hands, feet, major joints, and other range of motion, besides her neck. The rest of the physical, cognitive, and neurologic examination findings were otherwise unremarkable. A routine rheumatologic laboratory evaluation was negative.

A head computed tomography ordered before coming to the clinic showed normal results. An MRI of the head was obtained to evaluate for ischemic cause or structural abnormality (Figures 1 and 2). Given the patient’s presentation and the pattern seen on the MRI results, it was determined that large pannus posterior to the dens, severely narrowing the spinal canal, was most likely the diagnosis. A second opinion confirmed the diagnosis, and a second MRI revealed stabilization with no signs of enhancement.

The patient was advised to meet with a neurosurgeon to remove the pannus. The patient agreed on occiput to C2 posterior instrument arthrodesis as well as decompression. A plain film radiograph showed C2-occipital repair after surgery (Figure 3). The patient recovered in the neurosurgical intensive care unit, and the rest of the recovery was uncomplicated. She showed some improvement in her headaches and unsteady gait. A postoperative pathologic evaluation of tissue was not available. She was referred to a rheumatologist to rule out an autoimmune disease as the cause for this pannus, but no autoimmune disease was found.

Discussion

Cervical pannus is relatively uncommon in those without RA. However, there are multiple reasons that a patient could develop a cervical pannus. Cervical pannus in RA and cervical pannus without RA may mimic each other clinically, but medical management is distinctly different. Consequently, a rheumatology consult is necessary to ensure that there is no undiagnosed autoimmune disorder. Our patient did not have RA, and a neurosurgery intervention was needed to manage her headaches and unsteady gait. Although we could not isolate a cause of this patient’s cervical pannus development, we believed that nonintervention would adversely affect this patient.

The course of pannus progression can be fatal especially if left untreated.¹² MRI can detect a pannus and may be helpful for planning surgery.¹³ Surgical resection has been the treatment of choice for patients with neurologic symptoms.¹⁴ However, some cases have reported resolution of pannus associated with RA and other forms of chronic atlantoaxial instability only after posterior stabilization.¹⁴In order to manage pannus, cervical spine examination for the diagnosis of cervical involvement is encouraged to prevent morbidity and mortality.¹³ There are new data that demonstrated the potential of using retinoid X receptor agonists, such as bexarotene, as a treatment against the development and progression of pannus.¹⁴

Conclusions

We present a patient with cervical pannus disease without RA whose diagnosis was based on the pathognomonic pattern seen on MRI. She showed a clinically significant recovery with an occiput to C2 posterior instrument arthrodesis as well as decompression. She showed marked improvements in her headaches and unsteady gait. This case report highlights the importance of realizing cervical pannus as a disease found in patients without RA. It serves as an alert to clinicians for timely detection, diagnosis, and initiation of treatment to prevent mortality and long-term neurologic sequelae of cervical pannus.

Although further studies of early diagnosis and treatment for cervical pannus are warranted, we propose that including pannus in a differential diagnosis for patients with no RA could be lifesaving.

Cervical pannus is a disease that could easily develop in an active-duty soldier or veteran. The disease has been associated with trauma and rheumatoid arthritis, or can be idiopathic. For years, cervical pannus has been closely tied to rheumatoid arthritis; however, a study published in 2019 showed that only 28% of patients with cervical pannus had an associated diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis.¹ In the same study, 18% of patients had undergone some type of prior cervical spine surgery as the next most common cause. The condition also can occur years after an injury.

Background

In the US, 42,000 veterans are living with spinal cord disease, and thousands of these veterans have surgery every year.² Service men and women and veterans are at risk for cervical pannus as they age especially if they have a history of rheumatoid arthritis, cervical spine surgery, trauma, and numerous other causes. It is critical for health care providers who treat this population to understand cervical pannus, how to recognize it, and how to identify patients at risk. A cervical pannus can be life threatening if not detected and treated properly.

There is no clear definition for cervical pannus. Some researchers think of it as the chronically inflamed synovial membrane in patients with rheumatoid arthritis (RA); others consider it as a specialized synovial membrane derived from vascular soft tissue structures at or near the bone synovial membrane.³ The pathogenesis for developing a pannus is not well understood, and little is known when a pannus begins or its initial location. A pannus formation can occur in any synovial joint in the body, such as wrists, metacarpophalangeal joint, proximal interphalangeal joint, and cervical joints.

A cervical pannus can cause serious complications. It can lead to a cervical subluxation in up to 4% of patients with RA, or it also can occur spontaneously in some patients without RA especially those with trauma or cancer.⁴

There are 2 suggested mechanisms by which the synovial membrane proliferates. It was originally believed that T cells from the chronic inflamed joint lead to the pannus formation by initiating an autoimmune reaction through the production of different cytokines against arthritogenic agents.^3-5 These cytokines increase inflammation by recruiting neutrophils and activating various kinds of macrophages that might lead to increased osteoclast activity.⁶ Osteoclastic activity can damage bone and allow the synovium to penetrate the bone, forming the pannus.

Another proposed mechanism is that the synovial cells hyperpolarize and hypertrophy automatically without T-cell help by expressing oncogenes and their proteins.³ In either case, angiogenesis follows this proliferation and increases the influx of inflammatory cells into the joints, which can lead to more destruction.⁷ This increase in blood supply to the synovial membrane is important in the growth of the pannus and can have a damaging effect to cartilage, bone, and joints.^4,7

Cervical pannus can progress in patients with prolonged use of corticosteroids.⁸ Because a pannus can put pressure on any segment of the cervical spine and the cranio-cervical junction leading to cervical instability, patients with this condition may present with a variety of clinical symptoms.⁹ The most frequently reported clinical features include neck pain, easy fatigability, difficulty walking, abnormal gait, increased clumsiness, and numbness and tingling in the arms. Patients also may complain of neck stiffness and decreased neck motion.¹⁰Cervical pannus is most frequently seen in patients with RA. However, patients without a RA diagnosis and incidental atlantoaxial pannus on cervical spine magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) are unlikely to have previously undiagnosed RA.¹¹

Case Presentation

A 70-year-old white woman presented to the neurology clinic at Gretna Medical Center in Virginia in December 2016 with constant headache and imbalance that started in September 2016. She characterized the pain as predominately pressure (6 on a 10-point pain scale) with occasional shooting pains. The pain started at the left occipital lobe and radiated toward the left temporal lobe and left eye. The patient also stated that it was very difficult to lay her head down on a pillow to sleep and that she had to use a recliner in order to sleep over the past 3 months. She reported that the headache felt slightly worse if she had a lot of repetitive head and neck movements during the day. There was no photophobia, phonophobia, nausea, vomiting, facial paresthesias, lacrimation, nasal congestion, confusion, or impaired speech.

The patient’s lack of balance, which resulted in an unsteady gait, had started 1 month before and had increased significantly in the past 2 to 3 weeks. She stated that the unsteady gait was associated with numbness in her right upper and lower extremities, although more intense in the right lower extremity. Aside from the headaches, paresthesia, and unsteady gait, the patient reported no other major symptoms. She did not smoke tobacco or drink alcohol. Her family history revealed that her brothers had heart disease.

The patient’s vital signs at physical examination included heart rate, 83 beats per minute; blood pressure, 159/75 mm hg; temporal temperature, 97.9 °F; and respiratory rate, 20 breaths per minute. The patient’s gait was unsteady, needing stabilization by holding on to her husband’s arm, slightly favoring right lower extremity. Finger-to-nose test, rapid alternating movements, heel-knee-shin testing were all normal. The Romberg sign was positive. The patient could rise on toes and heels with slight balance disturbance. Deep tendon reflexes and reflexes in the upper and lower extremities was symmetric 2+ bilaterally. Musculoskeletal examination revealed strength and tone in all major muscle groups and demonstrated symmetrical movements with no fasciculation noted. A rheumatologic evaluation showed no abnormalities, including inspection of hands, feet, major joints, and other range of motion, besides her neck. The rest of the physical, cognitive, and neurologic examination findings were otherwise unremarkable. A routine rheumatologic laboratory evaluation was negative.

A head computed tomography ordered before coming to the clinic showed normal results. An MRI of the head was obtained to evaluate for ischemic cause or structural abnormality (Figures 1 and 2). Given the patient’s presentation and the pattern seen on the MRI results, it was determined that large pannus posterior to the dens, severely narrowing the spinal canal, was most likely the diagnosis. A second opinion confirmed the diagnosis, and a second MRI revealed stabilization with no signs of enhancement.

The patient was advised to meet with a neurosurgeon to remove the pannus. The patient agreed on occiput to C2 posterior instrument arthrodesis as well as decompression. A plain film radiograph showed C2-occipital repair after surgery (Figure 3). The patient recovered in the neurosurgical intensive care unit, and the rest of the recovery was uncomplicated. She showed some improvement in her headaches and unsteady gait. A postoperative pathologic evaluation of tissue was not available. She was referred to a rheumatologist to rule out an autoimmune disease as the cause for this pannus, but no autoimmune disease was found.

Discussion

Cervical pannus is relatively uncommon in those without RA. However, there are multiple reasons that a patient could develop a cervical pannus. Cervical pannus in RA and cervical pannus without RA may mimic each other clinically, but medical management is distinctly different. Consequently, a rheumatology consult is necessary to ensure that there is no undiagnosed autoimmune disorder. Our patient did not have RA, and a neurosurgery intervention was needed to manage her headaches and unsteady gait. Although we could not isolate a cause of this patient’s cervical pannus development, we believed that nonintervention would adversely affect this patient.

The course of pannus progression can be fatal especially if left untreated.¹² MRI can detect a pannus and may be helpful for planning surgery.¹³ Surgical resection has been the treatment of choice for patients with neurologic symptoms.¹⁴ However, some cases have reported resolution of pannus associated with RA and other forms of chronic atlantoaxial instability only after posterior stabilization.¹⁴In order to manage pannus, cervical spine examination for the diagnosis of cervical involvement is encouraged to prevent morbidity and mortality.¹³ There are new data that demonstrated the potential of using retinoid X receptor agonists, such as bexarotene, as a treatment against the development and progression of pannus.¹⁴

Conclusions

We present a patient with cervical pannus disease without RA whose diagnosis was based on the pathognomonic pattern seen on MRI. She showed a clinically significant recovery with an occiput to C2 posterior instrument arthrodesis as well as decompression. She showed marked improvements in her headaches and unsteady gait. This case report highlights the importance of realizing cervical pannus as a disease found in patients without RA. It serves as an alert to clinicians for timely detection, diagnosis, and initiation of treatment to prevent mortality and long-term neurologic sequelae of cervical pannus.

Although further studies of early diagnosis and treatment for cervical pannus are warranted, we propose that including pannus in a differential diagnosis for patients with no RA could be lifesaving.

The pandemic of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) is confronting the modern world like nothing else before. With over 20 million individuals expected to require hospitalization in the US, this health crisis may become a generation-defining moment for healthcare systems and the field of hospital medicine.¹ The specific challenges facing hospital medicine are comparable to running a sprint and a marathon—at the same time. For the sprint underway, hospitalists must learn to respond to a rapidly changing environment in which critical decisions are made within hours and days. At the same time, hospitalists need to plan for the marathon of increased clinical needs over the coming months, the possibility of burnout, and concerns about staff well-­being. Although runners typically focus on either the sprint or the marathon, healthcare systems and hospital medicine providers will need to simultaneously prepare for both types of races.

Over the past several weeks, hospital medicine leaders have been rapidly responding to an evolving crisis. Leaders and clinicians are quickly learning how to restructure clinical operations, negotiate the short supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), and manage delays in COVID-19 testing. In these areas, our hospitalist group has experienced a steep learning curve. In addition to the strategies outlined in the Table, we will share here our experiences and insights on managing and preparing for the COVID-19 pandemic.

Communication Is Central

During the sprint, focused, regular communication is imperative to ameliorate anxiety and fear. A study of crisis communication after 9/11 found that, for employees, good communication from leadership was one of the most valued factors.² Communications experts also note that, in times of crisis, leaders have a special role in communication, specifically around demystifying the situation, providing hope, and maintaining transparency.³

Mental bandwidth may be limited in a stressful environment, so efforts should be taken to maximize the value of each communication. Information on hospital metrics should be provided regularly, including the number of COVID-19 cases, the status of clinical services and staffing, hospital capacity, and resource availability.⁴ Although the ubiquity and ease of email is convenient, recognize that providers are likely receiving email updates from multiple layers within your healthcare organization. To guard against losing important information, we use the same templated format for daily email updates with changes highlighted, which allows busy clinicians to digest pertinent information easily.⁵ Finally, consider having a single individual be responsible for collating COVID-19–related emails sent to your group. Although clinicians may want to share the most recent studies or their clinical experiences with a group email, instead have them send this information to a single individual who can organize these materials and share them on a regular basis.

To keep two-way communication channels open in a busy, asynchronous environment, consider having a centralized shared document in which providers can give real-time feedback to capture on-the-ground experiences or share questions they would like answered. Within our group, we found that centralizing our conversation in a shared document eliminated redundancy, focused our meetings, and kept everyone up to date. Additionally, regularly scheduled meetings may need to be adapted to a remote format (eg, Zoom, WebEx) as clinicians are asked to work from home when not on clinical service. Finally, recognize that virtual meetings require a different skill set than that required by in-person meetings, including reestablishment of social norms and technology preparation.⁶

Optimize Your Staffing

Hospital volumes could increase to as high as 270% of current hospital bed capacities during this pandemic.¹ This surge is further complicated by the effort involved in caring for these patients, given their increased medical complexity, the use of new protocols, and the extra time needed to update staff and family. As the workload intensifies, staffing models and operations will also need to adapt.

First, optimize your inpatient resources based on the changes your hospital system is making. For instance, as elective surgeries were cancelled, we dissolved our surgical comanagement and consult services to better accommodate our hospitals’ needs. Further, consider using advanced practice providers (eg, physician assistants and nurse practitioners) released from their clinical duties to help with inpatient care in the event of a surge. If your hospital has trainees (eg, residents or fellows), consider reassigning those whose rotations have been postponed to newly created inpatient teams; trainees often have strong institutional knowledge and understanding of hospital protocols and resources.

Second, use hospitalists for their most relevant skills. Hospitalists are pluripotent clinicians who are comfortable with high-­acuity patients and can fit into a myriad of clinical positions. The initial instinct at our institution was to mobilize hospitalists across all areas of increasing needs in the hospital (eg, screening clinics,⁷ advice phone lines for patients, or in the Emergency Department), but we quickly recognized that the hospitalist group is a finite resource. We focused our hospitalists’ clinical work on the expanding inpatient needs and allowed other outpatient or procedure-based specialties that have less inpatient experience to fill the broader institutional gaps.

Finally, consider long-term implications of staffing decisions. Leaders are making challenging coverage decisions that can affect the morale and autonomy of staff. Does backup staffing happen on a volunteer basis? Who fills the need—those with less clinical time or those with fewer personal obligations? When a staffing model is challenged and your group is making such decisions, engaged communication again becomes paramount.

Experts believe that we are only at the beginning of this crisis, one for which we don’t know what the end looks like or when it will come. With this in mind, hospital medicine leadership must plan for the long-term implications of the lengthy race ahead. Recognizing that morale, motivation, and burnout will be issues to deal with on the horizon, a focus on sustainability and wellness will become increasingly important as the marathon continues. To date, we’ve found the following principles to be helpful.

Delegate Responsibilities

Hospitals will not be able to survive COVID-19 through the efforts of single individuals. Instead, consider creating “operational champion” roles for frontline clinicians. These individuals can lead in specific areas (eg, PPE, updates on COVID-19 testing, discharge protocols) and act as conduits for information, updates, and resources for your group. At our institution, such operational meetings and activities take hours out of each day. By creating a breadth of leadership roles, our group has spread the operational workload while still allowing clinicians to care for patients, avoid burnout, and build autonomy and opportunities for both personal and professional growth. While for most institutions, these positions are temporary and not compensated with salary or time, the contribution to the group should be recognized both now and in the future.

Focus on Wellness

Providers are battling a laundry list of both clinical and personal stressors. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has already recognized that stress and mental health are going to be large hurdles for both patients and providers during this crisis.⁸ From the beginning, hospitalist leadership should be attuned to physician wellness and be aware that burnout, mental and physical exhaustion, and the possibility of contracting COVID-19 will be issues in the coming weeks and months. Volunteerism is built into the physician’s work ethic, but we must be mindful about its cost for long-term staffing demands. In addition, scarce medical resources add an additional moral strain for clinicians as they face tough allocation decisions, as we’ve seen with our Italian colleagues.⁹

As regular meetings around COVID-19 have become commonplace, we’ve made sure to set aside defined time for staff to discuss and reflect on their experiences. Doing so has allowed our clinicians to feel heard and to acknowledge the difficulties they are facing in their clinical duties. Leaders should also consider frequent check-ins with individual providers. At our institution, the first positive COVID-19 patient did not radically change any protocol that was in place, but a check-in with the hospitalist on service that day proved helpful for a debrief and processing opportunity. Individual conversations can help those on the front lines feel supported and remind them they are not operating alone in an anonymous vacuum.

Continue by celebrating small victories because this marathon is not going to end with an obvious finish line or a singular moment in which everyone can rejoice. A negative test, a patient with a good outcome, and a donation of PPE are all opportunities to celebrate. It may be what keeps us going when there is no end in sight. We have relied on these celebrations and moments of levity as an integral part of our regular group meetings.

At the end of this pandemic, just as we hope that our social distancing feels like an overreaction, we similarly hope that our sprint to build capacity ends up being unnecessary as well. As we wrote this Perspectives piece, uncertainty about the extent, length, and impact of this pandemic still existed. By the time it is published it may be that the sprint is over, and the marathon is beginning. Or, if our wildest hopes come true, there will be no marathon to run at all.

The pandemic of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) is confronting the modern world like nothing else before. With over 20 million individuals expected to require hospitalization in the US, this health crisis may become a generation-defining moment for healthcare systems and the field of hospital medicine.¹ The specific challenges facing hospital medicine are comparable to running a sprint and a marathon—at the same time. For the sprint underway, hospitalists must learn to respond to a rapidly changing environment in which critical decisions are made within hours and days. At the same time, hospitalists need to plan for the marathon of increased clinical needs over the coming months, the possibility of burnout, and concerns about staff well-­being. Although runners typically focus on either the sprint or the marathon, healthcare systems and hospital medicine providers will need to simultaneously prepare for both types of races.

Over the past several weeks, hospital medicine leaders have been rapidly responding to an evolving crisis. Leaders and clinicians are quickly learning how to restructure clinical operations, negotiate the short supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), and manage delays in COVID-19 testing. In these areas, our hospitalist group has experienced a steep learning curve. In addition to the strategies outlined in the Table, we will share here our experiences and insights on managing and preparing for the COVID-19 pandemic.

Communication Is Central

During the sprint, focused, regular communication is imperative to ameliorate anxiety and fear. A study of crisis communication after 9/11 found that, for employees, good communication from leadership was one of the most valued factors.² Communications experts also note that, in times of crisis, leaders have a special role in communication, specifically around demystifying the situation, providing hope, and maintaining transparency.³

Mental bandwidth may be limited in a stressful environment, so efforts should be taken to maximize the value of each communication. Information on hospital metrics should be provided regularly, including the number of COVID-19 cases, the status of clinical services and staffing, hospital capacity, and resource availability.⁴ Although the ubiquity and ease of email is convenient, recognize that providers are likely receiving email updates from multiple layers within your healthcare organization. To guard against losing important information, we use the same templated format for daily email updates with changes highlighted, which allows busy clinicians to digest pertinent information easily.⁵ Finally, consider having a single individual be responsible for collating COVID-19–related emails sent to your group. Although clinicians may want to share the most recent studies or their clinical experiences with a group email, instead have them send this information to a single individual who can organize these materials and share them on a regular basis.

To keep two-way communication channels open in a busy, asynchronous environment, consider having a centralized shared document in which providers can give real-time feedback to capture on-the-ground experiences or share questions they would like answered. Within our group, we found that centralizing our conversation in a shared document eliminated redundancy, focused our meetings, and kept everyone up to date. Additionally, regularly scheduled meetings may need to be adapted to a remote format (eg, Zoom, WebEx) as clinicians are asked to work from home when not on clinical service. Finally, recognize that virtual meetings require a different skill set than that required by in-person meetings, including reestablishment of social norms and technology preparation.⁶

Optimize Your Staffing

Hospital volumes could increase to as high as 270% of current hospital bed capacities during this pandemic.¹ This surge is further complicated by the effort involved in caring for these patients, given their increased medical complexity, the use of new protocols, and the extra time needed to update staff and family. As the workload intensifies, staffing models and operations will also need to adapt.

First, optimize your inpatient resources based on the changes your hospital system is making. For instance, as elective surgeries were cancelled, we dissolved our surgical comanagement and consult services to better accommodate our hospitals’ needs. Further, consider using advanced practice providers (eg, physician assistants and nurse practitioners) released from their clinical duties to help with inpatient care in the event of a surge. If your hospital has trainees (eg, residents or fellows), consider reassigning those whose rotations have been postponed to newly created inpatient teams; trainees often have strong institutional knowledge and understanding of hospital protocols and resources.

Second, use hospitalists for their most relevant skills. Hospitalists are pluripotent clinicians who are comfortable with high-­acuity patients and can fit into a myriad of clinical positions. The initial instinct at our institution was to mobilize hospitalists across all areas of increasing needs in the hospital (eg, screening clinics,⁷ advice phone lines for patients, or in the Emergency Department), but we quickly recognized that the hospitalist group is a finite resource. We focused our hospitalists’ clinical work on the expanding inpatient needs and allowed other outpatient or procedure-based specialties that have less inpatient experience to fill the broader institutional gaps.

Finally, consider long-term implications of staffing decisions. Leaders are making challenging coverage decisions that can affect the morale and autonomy of staff. Does backup staffing happen on a volunteer basis? Who fills the need—those with less clinical time or those with fewer personal obligations? When a staffing model is challenged and your group is making such decisions, engaged communication again becomes paramount.

Experts believe that we are only at the beginning of this crisis, one for which we don’t know what the end looks like or when it will come. With this in mind, hospital medicine leadership must plan for the long-term implications of the lengthy race ahead. Recognizing that morale, motivation, and burnout will be issues to deal with on the horizon, a focus on sustainability and wellness will become increasingly important as the marathon continues. To date, we’ve found the following principles to be helpful.

Delegate Responsibilities

Hospitals will not be able to survive COVID-19 through the efforts of single individuals. Instead, consider creating “operational champion” roles for frontline clinicians. These individuals can lead in specific areas (eg, PPE, updates on COVID-19 testing, discharge protocols) and act as conduits for information, updates, and resources for your group. At our institution, such operational meetings and activities take hours out of each day. By creating a breadth of leadership roles, our group has spread the operational workload while still allowing clinicians to care for patients, avoid burnout, and build autonomy and opportunities for both personal and professional growth. While for most institutions, these positions are temporary and not compensated with salary or time, the contribution to the group should be recognized both now and in the future.

Focus on Wellness

Providers are battling a laundry list of both clinical and personal stressors. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has already recognized that stress and mental health are going to be large hurdles for both patients and providers during this crisis.⁸ From the beginning, hospitalist leadership should be attuned to physician wellness and be aware that burnout, mental and physical exhaustion, and the possibility of contracting COVID-19 will be issues in the coming weeks and months. Volunteerism is built into the physician’s work ethic, but we must be mindful about its cost for long-term staffing demands. In addition, scarce medical resources add an additional moral strain for clinicians as they face tough allocation decisions, as we’ve seen with our Italian colleagues.⁹

As regular meetings around COVID-19 have become commonplace, we’ve made sure to set aside defined time for staff to discuss and reflect on their experiences. Doing so has allowed our clinicians to feel heard and to acknowledge the difficulties they are facing in their clinical duties. Leaders should also consider frequent check-ins with individual providers. At our institution, the first positive COVID-19 patient did not radically change any protocol that was in place, but a check-in with the hospitalist on service that day proved helpful for a debrief and processing opportunity. Individual conversations can help those on the front lines feel supported and remind them they are not operating alone in an anonymous vacuum.

Continue by celebrating small victories because this marathon is not going to end with an obvious finish line or a singular moment in which everyone can rejoice. A negative test, a patient with a good outcome, and a donation of PPE are all opportunities to celebrate. It may be what keeps us going when there is no end in sight. We have relied on these celebrations and moments of levity as an integral part of our regular group meetings.

At the end of this pandemic, just as we hope that our social distancing feels like an overreaction, we similarly hope that our sprint to build capacity ends up being unnecessary as well. As we wrote this Perspectives piece, uncertainty about the extent, length, and impact of this pandemic still existed. By the time it is published it may be that the sprint is over, and the marathon is beginning. Or, if our wildest hopes come true, there will be no marathon to run at all.

The pandemic of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) is confronting the modern world like nothing else before. With over 20 million individuals expected to require hospitalization in the US, this health crisis may become a generation-defining moment for healthcare systems and the field of hospital medicine.¹ The specific challenges facing hospital medicine are comparable to running a sprint and a marathon—at the same time. For the sprint underway, hospitalists must learn to respond to a rapidly changing environment in which critical decisions are made within hours and days. At the same time, hospitalists need to plan for the marathon of increased clinical needs over the coming months, the possibility of burnout, and concerns about staff well-­being. Although runners typically focus on either the sprint or the marathon, healthcare systems and hospital medicine providers will need to simultaneously prepare for both types of races.

Over the past several weeks, hospital medicine leaders have been rapidly responding to an evolving crisis. Leaders and clinicians are quickly learning how to restructure clinical operations, negotiate the short supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), and manage delays in COVID-19 testing. In these areas, our hospitalist group has experienced a steep learning curve. In addition to the strategies outlined in the Table, we will share here our experiences and insights on managing and preparing for the COVID-19 pandemic.

Communication Is Central

During the sprint, focused, regular communication is imperative to ameliorate anxiety and fear. A study of crisis communication after 9/11 found that, for employees, good communication from leadership was one of the most valued factors.² Communications experts also note that, in times of crisis, leaders have a special role in communication, specifically around demystifying the situation, providing hope, and maintaining transparency.³

Mental bandwidth may be limited in a stressful environment, so efforts should be taken to maximize the value of each communication. Information on hospital metrics should be provided regularly, including the number of COVID-19 cases, the status of clinical services and staffing, hospital capacity, and resource availability.⁴ Although the ubiquity and ease of email is convenient, recognize that providers are likely receiving email updates from multiple layers within your healthcare organization. To guard against losing important information, we use the same templated format for daily email updates with changes highlighted, which allows busy clinicians to digest pertinent information easily.⁵ Finally, consider having a single individual be responsible for collating COVID-19–related emails sent to your group. Although clinicians may want to share the most recent studies or their clinical experiences with a group email, instead have them send this information to a single individual who can organize these materials and share them on a regular basis.

To keep two-way communication channels open in a busy, asynchronous environment, consider having a centralized shared document in which providers can give real-time feedback to capture on-the-ground experiences or share questions they would like answered. Within our group, we found that centralizing our conversation in a shared document eliminated redundancy, focused our meetings, and kept everyone up to date. Additionally, regularly scheduled meetings may need to be adapted to a remote format (eg, Zoom, WebEx) as clinicians are asked to work from home when not on clinical service. Finally, recognize that virtual meetings require a different skill set than that required by in-person meetings, including reestablishment of social norms and technology preparation.⁶

Optimize Your Staffing

Hospital volumes could increase to as high as 270% of current hospital bed capacities during this pandemic.¹ This surge is further complicated by the effort involved in caring for these patients, given their increased medical complexity, the use of new protocols, and the extra time needed to update staff and family. As the workload intensifies, staffing models and operations will also need to adapt.

First, optimize your inpatient resources based on the changes your hospital system is making. For instance, as elective surgeries were cancelled, we dissolved our surgical comanagement and consult services to better accommodate our hospitals’ needs. Further, consider using advanced practice providers (eg, physician assistants and nurse practitioners) released from their clinical duties to help with inpatient care in the event of a surge. If your hospital has trainees (eg, residents or fellows), consider reassigning those whose rotations have been postponed to newly created inpatient teams; trainees often have strong institutional knowledge and understanding of hospital protocols and resources.

Second, use hospitalists for their most relevant skills. Hospitalists are pluripotent clinicians who are comfortable with high-­acuity patients and can fit into a myriad of clinical positions. The initial instinct at our institution was to mobilize hospitalists across all areas of increasing needs in the hospital (eg, screening clinics,⁷ advice phone lines for patients, or in the Emergency Department), but we quickly recognized that the hospitalist group is a finite resource. We focused our hospitalists’ clinical work on the expanding inpatient needs and allowed other outpatient or procedure-based specialties that have less inpatient experience to fill the broader institutional gaps.

Finally, consider long-term implications of staffing decisions. Leaders are making challenging coverage decisions that can affect the morale and autonomy of staff. Does backup staffing happen on a volunteer basis? Who fills the need—those with less clinical time or those with fewer personal obligations? When a staffing model is challenged and your group is making such decisions, engaged communication again becomes paramount.

Experts believe that we are only at the beginning of this crisis, one for which we don’t know what the end looks like or when it will come. With this in mind, hospital medicine leadership must plan for the long-term implications of the lengthy race ahead. Recognizing that morale, motivation, and burnout will be issues to deal with on the horizon, a focus on sustainability and wellness will become increasingly important as the marathon continues. To date, we’ve found the following principles to be helpful.

Delegate Responsibilities

Hospitals will not be able to survive COVID-19 through the efforts of single individuals. Instead, consider creating “operational champion” roles for frontline clinicians. These individuals can lead in specific areas (eg, PPE, updates on COVID-19 testing, discharge protocols) and act as conduits for information, updates, and resources for your group. At our institution, such operational meetings and activities take hours out of each day. By creating a breadth of leadership roles, our group has spread the operational workload while still allowing clinicians to care for patients, avoid burnout, and build autonomy and opportunities for both personal and professional growth. While for most institutions, these positions are temporary and not compensated with salary or time, the contribution to the group should be recognized both now and in the future.

Focus on Wellness

Providers are battling a laundry list of both clinical and personal stressors. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has already recognized that stress and mental health are going to be large hurdles for both patients and providers during this crisis.⁸ From the beginning, hospitalist leadership should be attuned to physician wellness and be aware that burnout, mental and physical exhaustion, and the possibility of contracting COVID-19 will be issues in the coming weeks and months. Volunteerism is built into the physician’s work ethic, but we must be mindful about its cost for long-term staffing demands. In addition, scarce medical resources add an additional moral strain for clinicians as they face tough allocation decisions, as we’ve seen with our Italian colleagues.⁹

As regular meetings around COVID-19 have become commonplace, we’ve made sure to set aside defined time for staff to discuss and reflect on their experiences. Doing so has allowed our clinicians to feel heard and to acknowledge the difficulties they are facing in their clinical duties. Leaders should also consider frequent check-ins with individual providers. At our institution, the first positive COVID-19 patient did not radically change any protocol that was in place, but a check-in with the hospitalist on service that day proved helpful for a debrief and processing opportunity. Individual conversations can help those on the front lines feel supported and remind them they are not operating alone in an anonymous vacuum.

Continue by celebrating small victories because this marathon is not going to end with an obvious finish line or a singular moment in which everyone can rejoice. A negative test, a patient with a good outcome, and a donation of PPE are all opportunities to celebrate. It may be what keeps us going when there is no end in sight. We have relied on these celebrations and moments of levity as an integral part of our regular group meetings.

At the end of this pandemic, just as we hope that our social distancing feels like an overreaction, we similarly hope that our sprint to build capacity ends up being unnecessary as well. As we wrote this Perspectives piece, uncertainty about the extent, length, and impact of this pandemic still existed. By the time it is published it may be that the sprint is over, and the marathon is beginning. Or, if our wildest hopes come true, there will be no marathon to run at all.

Chronic pain is a worldwide cause of impairment. According to data from the 2016 National Health Interview Survey, an estimated 50 million American adults suffer from chronic pain, with 19.6 million adults suffering from high-impact chronic pain.¹ This phenomenon is particularly prevalent in the older population. More than 25% of adults aged 65 to 74 years reported that they were often in pain in the past 3 months compared with just 10% of those adults between the ages of 18 and 44 years.²

The economic burdens of chronic pain disorders are well known. In 2010, Gaskin and Richard found that chronic pain has far-reaching consequences for the US economy, ranging from direct health care costs to lost productivity. This study estimated additional health care costs at about $300 billion yearly and lost productivity at $300 billion, bringing total annual costs to about $600 billion. This expense is more than heart disease alone ($309 billion), and cancer and diabetes mellitus ($243 billion and $188 billion respectively) combined.³

Opioid medications are powerful and effective pain-reducing agents that are indicated for short-term acute pain or long-term in the management of chronic, severe cancer-related pain.⁴ Although efficacious, use of these medications carries with it the inherent risks of abuse, misuse, addiction, and overdose.⁵ Since 1999, opioid-related overdose deaths have been on the rise. The CDC estimated that > 15,000 deaths were attributable specifically to prescription opioids in 2015.⁶ The estimates had risen to > 17,000 deaths in 2017, with the number increasing since that time.⁷ Cumulatively, the CDC estimates that > 200,000 deaths in the US between 1999 and 2017 are attributed to prescription opioid overdose, clearly marking this trend as a growing nationwide epidemic.⁸

In 2016, Florence and colleagues estimated costs associated with opioid overdose to be just shy of $80 billion in 2013 dollars.⁹ In October 2017, the US Department of Health and Human Services declared the opioid epidemic a public health emergency and committed $900 million to combating the crisis.¹⁰

An abundance of data exist analyzing outpatient prescribing and its impacts on opioid dependence, particularly postoperatively. A study by Brummett and colleagues indicated that the incidence of new persistent opioid use in patients who underwent surgery was 5.9% to 6.5% and did not differ between major and minor surgical procedures. This study concluded that new opioid use could be considered one of the most common complications after elective surgery.¹¹ Similarly, in 2017 Makary and colleagues found that surgeons tend to overprescribe pain medications after procedures; some prescribing as many as 50 to 60 tablets to control pain after simple procedures.¹² This is in stark contrast to pain guideline recommendations of no more than 10 tablets for most standard operative procedures.¹³

Sun and colleagues conducted a retrospective analysis of health care claims data in more than 18 million opioid-naïve patients who did and did not undergo surgery. Seven of the 11 surgical procedures were associated with an increased risk of chronic opioid use. The highest incidence of chronic opioid use in the first postoperative year was for total hip arthroplasty (1.4%, OR 5.10; 95% CI, 1.29-1.53). The study found that the risk factors most associated with chronic opioid use after surgery were male sex, aged > 50 years, and preoperative history of drug abuse, alcohol abuse, or depression, along with benzodiazepine use or antidepressant use.¹⁴ In a 2018 cohort study that evaluated predictors associated with transitioning to incident chronic opioid therapy, 4 factors were identified. These included opioid duration of action (adjusted odds ratio [AOR], 12.28; 95% CI, 8.1-06-18.72), the parent opioid compound (eg, tramadol vs codeine; AOR, 7.26; 95% CI, 5.20-10.13), the presence of conditions that are very likely to cause chronic pain (AOR, 5.47; 95% CI, 3.89-7.68), and drug use disorders (AOR, 4.02; 95% CI, 2.53-6.40).¹⁵

While there has been research into outpatient risk factors and medical practices that may contribute to chronic opioid use, a relative paucity of data exists on the contribution of hospitalization and inpatient opioid use on patient outcomes. A 2014 Canadian study assessed the impact of opioid use in the intensive care unit (ICU) on opioid use after discharge.¹⁶ This study included more than 2,500 patients who were admitted to a Canadian ICU between 2005 and 2008, and then followed after discharge for 48 months to quantify chronic opioid use. Nonopioid users increased from 87.8% in the early post-ICU period to 95.6% at 48 months after discharge. Preadmission chronic opioid use and prolonged hospital length of stay (LOS) were found to be associated with an increased risk of chronic opioid use after discharge.¹⁶ To date, there are no published studies that analyze the incidence of opioid-naïve veterans who convert to chronic opioid use after receiving opioids during an acute hospitalization.

In this retrospective analysis, we analyze the incidence of chronic opioid use after administration of opioids in the ICU as well as a variety of risk factors that may influence conversion to chronic opioid use.

Methods

This analysis was a single center, retrospective chart review conducted for patients admitted between July 1, 2017 and December 31, 2017 at the US Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) Michael E. DeBakey VA Medical Center (MEDVAMC) in Houston, Texas. MEDVAMC is a 538-bed academic\teaching hospital serving about 130,000 veterans in Southeast Texas. The hospital has 3 ICUs (medical, cardiovascular, and surgical) and 38 total ICU beds. The study was approved by the Baylor College of Medicine Institutional Review Board and MEDVAMC Research and Development Review Board. Informed consent was not required.

Inclusion criteria consisted of patients aged ≥ 18 years admitted to the ICU in the above-specified time frame, who were administered a continuous infusion of an opioid for at least 12 hours. Patients were excluded if they were not opioid naïve prior to admission, defined as receiving > 30 days of opioids in the prior 12 months. Patients who died during hospital admission, never received an opioid despite having an active order, were hospital-to-hospital transfers, or were still admitted at the time of data collection were excluded from the analysis.

All pertinent data were collected using the VA Computerized Patient Record System (CPRS) and the Critical Care Manager (Picis Clinical Solutions) ICU monitoring application. Critical Care Manager was used to track the time frame, duration, and amounts of opioid infusions administered in the ICU. Patient demographic and preadmission data, including date of birth, age, race, history of substance use/alcohol use disorder (defined as a previous diagnosis) and previous opioid prescriptions within the past year were recorded. For the inpatient admission, the ICU LOS, hospital LOS, primary admission diagnosis, type of opioid medication administered, and total duration and dose of opioid administered were collected. After discharge, opioid medication fill data at 3, 6, and 12 months were collected. This information included names of any outpatient opioids filled, dosage unit, quantity, day supply, and number of refills.

The primary outcome for this study was to determine the incidence of chronic opioid use at 3, 6, and 12 months after discharge, defined as the percentage of patients receiving outpatient opioid prescriptions at each time point. Analyses were conducted to observe the effect of age, race, history of substance use or history of alcohol use (International Classification of Diseases documented diagnosis, 9th edition), ICU type (medical, surgical, or cardiovascular), surgical/nonsurgical admission, ICU LOS, hospital LOS, total time, and amount of opioids administered during admission on risk of conversion to chronic opioid use.

Descriptive statistics were calculated to analyze the incidence of chronic opioid use. Univariate logistic regression analysis, including ORs, 95% CIs, and P values, was conducted to determine the effects of the risk factors noted earlier on chronic opioid use at each time point. A multivariate logistic regression model was performed to assess the effect of multiple independent variables on opioid use at 3, 6, and 12 months. Statistical analysis was performed using StataCorp Stata SE.

Results

During the study period, 330 patients were admitted to the ICU. After applying inclusion/exclusion criteria, 118 patients were included in the final analysis. The most frequent reasons for exclusion from the study were patient death (n = 77), a past history of opioid use (n = 56), and not having received an opioid infusion for at least 12 hours (n = 68). The average age of the patients included was 67 years (Table 1). A total of 14% and 9% of patients, respectively, had a diagnosis of alcohol use disorder or substance use disorder recorded in CPRS. After admission, the most common location for these patients was the surgical ICU (65%). All patients were male. The average hospital LOS was 18.6 days , and the ICU LOS was 8.3 days. The average duration of administration for the opioid (fentanyl) infusion was 63 hours, and the average amount of fentanyl administered to each patient was 57.1 mcg/h.

The incidence of opioid-naïve patients receiving opioids after discharge was 76.3% (n = 90) at 3 months, 19.5% (n = 23) at 6 months and 7.6% (n = 9) at 12 months (Figure). The daily morphine milligram equivalent (MME) of patients prescribed opioids at 3, 6, and 12 months was similar (3 months, 22.7; 6 months, 19.7; 12 months, 20.9). In the univariate regression analysis, several variables were found to be associated with converting to chronic opioid use. Prior history of alcohol use disorder (OR, 0.3; 95% CI, 0.10-0.88; P = .03), ICU type (OR, 3.9; 95% CI, 1.73-8.75; P = .001) and ICU LOS (OR, 0.88; 95% CI, 0.81-0.95; P = .01) had a statistically significant association on opioid use at 3 months. (Table 2). No variables evaluated had a statistically significant effect on chronic opioid use at 6 months, and only age (OR 0.93; 95% CI. 0.87-0.99; P = .02) was statistically significant at 12 months. In the multivariate logistic regression analysis, history of alcohol abuse, admission for surgery, and hospital LOS were significant at 3 months (Table 3).

Discussion

In this single-center analysis conducted at a VA academic hospital of opioid-naïve patients who were administered opioids in the ICU, the incidence of patients subsequently receiving outpatient opioid prescriptions at 12 months after discharge was 7.6%. There also was a decrease in the amount of opioids received by patients (daily MME) after discharge at 3, 6, and 12 months. This trend did not demonstrate the propensity for inpatient opioid use to convert opioid-naïve patients to chronic opioid users.

The most common outpatient opioids prescribed were hydrocodone/acetaminophen, morphine, and tramadol. Logistic regression showed few factors that correlated significantly with opioid use in the long-term (12 month) period. This finding is a deviation from the findings of Yaffe and colleagues who found hospital LOS to be one of the only predictors of long-term opioid use in their population (defined as use at 48 months).¹⁶ One important difference between our study and the Yaffe and colleagues study was that they evaluated all patients who were admitted to the ICU, regardless of the exposure to opioids during their inpatient stay. Consequently, this difference may have resulted in the differences in findings.

Strengths and Limitations

Location was a strength of our study, as this analysis was conducted at an integrated health care system that provides comprehensive inpatient and outpatient care. The VA uses a closed electronic health record, which allowed patients to be followed both in the inpatient and outpatient settings to determine which medications were prescribed at each time. In other health care systems this information would have been difficult to follow as patients often fill outpatient prescriptions at community pharmacies not affiliated with the treating hospital. However, any patient not using a VA prescriber for subsequent opioid prescriptions or patients who received opioids through other sources would not have had their continued opioid use captured. These data may be available in the states prescription monitoring program, but it was not available to query for research at this time.

This study also excluded chronic opioid users, which could have been another confounding factor to account for when analyzing the results. However, the primary objective of the study was to determine the impact of opioids prescribed in the ICU on converting previous opioid-naïve patients to chronic users. Finally, a multivariate logistic regression was incorporated to assess for factors that may predispose certain patients to convert to chronic opioid users. This analysis served to extend the applicability of our study by not only analyzing whether receiving opioids in the ICU contributed to chronic opioid use in the long-term, but also which populations may be at greatest risk. This information can be used in the future to target harm-reduction efforts toward high-risk hospitalized patients.

One limitation of this study was that it was conducted as a retrospective, single-center chart review in Houston, Texas. Because this was not a randomized controlled trial, it is difficult to imply any causation between exposure to opioids in the ICU and chronic use. In addition, because this study was conducted at a single site, the results may not be able to be generalized to other populations. VA populations tend to be elderly and predominantly male, as was reflected by the study population. These factors, along with regional variability in patient characteristics, may limit the generalizability of this study to older male patients located in Southeast Texas or other similar populations. Other limitations of this study also included the small sample size, limited period of follow-up obtained, and that other comorbidity information (pain scores during stay, use of nonopioid pain medications, past history of anxiety or depression, or other acute illnesses or surgeries that may have required opioid therapy during admission) was not collected.

This study was only able to review 118 patients for a follow-up duration of 1 year. In the Yaffe and colleagues study, more than 2,500 patients were followed over 4 years, which provided a more long-term overview of the clinical course of these patients and may be another reason for discrepant findings. However, this study did not actually assess the impact on administration of opioids on the development of chronic opioid use.¹⁶ Finally, the biggest limitation to this study may be the potential for confounding discharge prescriptions. After discharge, patients’ prescriptions were evaluated from discharge to 3 months, in between 3 and 6 months, and between 6 and 12 months for the presence of an opioid prescription. Due to this methodology, any opioid prescription a patient was discharged with was counted in the 3-month time point. Since many patients included in the study were admitted to the surgical ICU (65%), it was logical that they were discharged with opioids after their procedure. While including the immediate postdischarge prescription data was useful for evaluating the decrease in opioid use and incidence over time, it did cause the 3-month time point to appear overly inflated, potentially signaling that at 3 months after discharge many of these patients were still requiring opioid use.

The Society of Critical Care Medicine still recommends opioids as first-line therapy for non-neuropathic pain in the ICU setting.¹⁷ Additionally, postoperative pain can be difficult to manage in the surgical population and is often treated with opioids, though treatment with multimodal pain regimens is becoming more common.¹⁸ It is difficult to imagine that a finding that implicates opioid use in the hospital with conversion to chronic opioid use would prompt a cessation in the use of opioid in these settings, especially in the context of analgosedation related to mechanically ventilated patients. However, it would be plausible to use this knowledge to advocate for opioid-sparing therapies and consideration for weaning individuals at high risk for misuse after discharge from opioid-containing sedation or analgesia regimens in a timelier manner.

Though our findings did not show a clinically relevant increase in chronic opioid users, clinicians can still use this information to encourage targeted education and closer monitoring for those patients deemed as high risk at discharge to prevent unnecessary prolonged opioid use. By having more frequent follow-up in pain clinics, switching patients to nonopioid therapies after discharge, and ensuring high-risk patients are discharged with naloxone rescue kits, it would be possible to drastically reduce the number of potential overdoses for patients who previously required opioid therapy in the ICU.

Conclusion

After discharge, 7.6% of previously opioid-naïve patients who were treated with opioids in the ICU were still receiving prescriptions for opioids at 12 months. These findings did not suggest a clinically significant increase in the incidence of chronic opioid use after inpatient administration of opioids. However, these results prompt the need for larger, prospective, multicenter studies to evaluate the effect on hospitalization on converting to chronic opioid use and a deeper evaluation of other potential risk factors that may be present.

Chronic pain is a worldwide cause of impairment. According to data from the 2016 National Health Interview Survey, an estimated 50 million American adults suffer from chronic pain, with 19.6 million adults suffering from high-impact chronic pain.¹ This phenomenon is particularly prevalent in the older population. More than 25% of adults aged 65 to 74 years reported that they were often in pain in the past 3 months compared with just 10% of those adults between the ages of 18 and 44 years.²

The economic burdens of chronic pain disorders are well known. In 2010, Gaskin and Richard found that chronic pain has far-reaching consequences for the US economy, ranging from direct health care costs to lost productivity. This study estimated additional health care costs at about $300 billion yearly and lost productivity at $300 billion, bringing total annual costs to about $600 billion. This expense is more than heart disease alone ($309 billion), and cancer and diabetes mellitus ($243 billion and $188 billion respectively) combined.³

Opioid medications are powerful and effective pain-reducing agents that are indicated for short-term acute pain or long-term in the management of chronic, severe cancer-related pain.⁴ Although efficacious, use of these medications carries with it the inherent risks of abuse, misuse, addiction, and overdose.⁵ Since 1999, opioid-related overdose deaths have been on the rise. The CDC estimated that > 15,000 deaths were attributable specifically to prescription opioids in 2015.⁶ The estimates had risen to > 17,000 deaths in 2017, with the number increasing since that time.⁷ Cumulatively, the CDC estimates that > 200,000 deaths in the US between 1999 and 2017 are attributed to prescription opioid overdose, clearly marking this trend as a growing nationwide epidemic.⁸

In 2016, Florence and colleagues estimated costs associated with opioid overdose to be just shy of $80 billion in 2013 dollars.⁹ In October 2017, the US Department of Health and Human Services declared the opioid epidemic a public health emergency and committed $900 million to combating the crisis.¹⁰

An abundance of data exist analyzing outpatient prescribing and its impacts on opioid dependence, particularly postoperatively. A study by Brummett and colleagues indicated that the incidence of new persistent opioid use in patients who underwent surgery was 5.9% to 6.5% and did not differ between major and minor surgical procedures. This study concluded that new opioid use could be considered one of the most common complications after elective surgery.¹¹ Similarly, in 2017 Makary and colleagues found that surgeons tend to overprescribe pain medications after procedures; some prescribing as many as 50 to 60 tablets to control pain after simple procedures.¹² This is in stark contrast to pain guideline recommendations of no more than 10 tablets for most standard operative procedures.¹³

Sun and colleagues conducted a retrospective analysis of health care claims data in more than 18 million opioid-naïve patients who did and did not undergo surgery. Seven of the 11 surgical procedures were associated with an increased risk of chronic opioid use. The highest incidence of chronic opioid use in the first postoperative year was for total hip arthroplasty (1.4%, OR 5.10; 95% CI, 1.29-1.53). The study found that the risk factors most associated with chronic opioid use after surgery were male sex, aged > 50 years, and preoperative history of drug abuse, alcohol abuse, or depression, along with benzodiazepine use or antidepressant use.¹⁴ In a 2018 cohort study that evaluated predictors associated with transitioning to incident chronic opioid therapy, 4 factors were identified. These included opioid duration of action (adjusted odds ratio [AOR], 12.28; 95% CI, 8.1-06-18.72), the parent opioid compound (eg, tramadol vs codeine; AOR, 7.26; 95% CI, 5.20-10.13), the presence of conditions that are very likely to cause chronic pain (AOR, 5.47; 95% CI, 3.89-7.68), and drug use disorders (AOR, 4.02; 95% CI, 2.53-6.40).¹⁵

While there has been research into outpatient risk factors and medical practices that may contribute to chronic opioid use, a relative paucity of data exists on the contribution of hospitalization and inpatient opioid use on patient outcomes. A 2014 Canadian study assessed the impact of opioid use in the intensive care unit (ICU) on opioid use after discharge.¹⁶ This study included more than 2,500 patients who were admitted to a Canadian ICU between 2005 and 2008, and then followed after discharge for 48 months to quantify chronic opioid use. Nonopioid users increased from 87.8% in the early post-ICU period to 95.6% at 48 months after discharge. Preadmission chronic opioid use and prolonged hospital length of stay (LOS) were found to be associated with an increased risk of chronic opioid use after discharge.¹⁶ To date, there are no published studies that analyze the incidence of opioid-naïve veterans who convert to chronic opioid use after receiving opioids during an acute hospitalization.

In this retrospective analysis, we analyze the incidence of chronic opioid use after administration of opioids in the ICU as well as a variety of risk factors that may influence conversion to chronic opioid use.

Methods

This analysis was a single center, retrospective chart review conducted for patients admitted between July 1, 2017 and December 31, 2017 at the US Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) Michael E. DeBakey VA Medical Center (MEDVAMC) in Houston, Texas. MEDVAMC is a 538-bed academic\teaching hospital serving about 130,000 veterans in Southeast Texas. The hospital has 3 ICUs (medical, cardiovascular, and surgical) and 38 total ICU beds. The study was approved by the Baylor College of Medicine Institutional Review Board and MEDVAMC Research and Development Review Board. Informed consent was not required.

Inclusion criteria consisted of patients aged ≥ 18 years admitted to the ICU in the above-specified time frame, who were administered a continuous infusion of an opioid for at least 12 hours. Patients were excluded if they were not opioid naïve prior to admission, defined as receiving > 30 days of opioids in the prior 12 months. Patients who died during hospital admission, never received an opioid despite having an active order, were hospital-to-hospital transfers, or were still admitted at the time of data collection were excluded from the analysis.

All pertinent data were collected using the VA Computerized Patient Record System (CPRS) and the Critical Care Manager (Picis Clinical Solutions) ICU monitoring application. Critical Care Manager was used to track the time frame, duration, and amounts of opioid infusions administered in the ICU. Patient demographic and preadmission data, including date of birth, age, race, history of substance use/alcohol use disorder (defined as a previous diagnosis) and previous opioid prescriptions within the past year were recorded. For the inpatient admission, the ICU LOS, hospital LOS, primary admission diagnosis, type of opioid medication administered, and total duration and dose of opioid administered were collected. After discharge, opioid medication fill data at 3, 6, and 12 months were collected. This information included names of any outpatient opioids filled, dosage unit, quantity, day supply, and number of refills.

The primary outcome for this study was to determine the incidence of chronic opioid use at 3, 6, and 12 months after discharge, defined as the percentage of patients receiving outpatient opioid prescriptions at each time point. Analyses were conducted to observe the effect of age, race, history of substance use or history of alcohol use (International Classification of Diseases documented diagnosis, 9th edition), ICU type (medical, surgical, or cardiovascular), surgical/nonsurgical admission, ICU LOS, hospital LOS, total time, and amount of opioids administered during admission on risk of conversion to chronic opioid use.

Descriptive statistics were calculated to analyze the incidence of chronic opioid use. Univariate logistic regression analysis, including ORs, 95% CIs, and P values, was conducted to determine the effects of the risk factors noted earlier on chronic opioid use at each time point. A multivariate logistic regression model was performed to assess the effect of multiple independent variables on opioid use at 3, 6, and 12 months. Statistical analysis was performed using StataCorp Stata SE.

Results

During the study period, 330 patients were admitted to the ICU. After applying inclusion/exclusion criteria, 118 patients were included in the final analysis. The most frequent reasons for exclusion from the study were patient death (n = 77), a past history of opioid use (n = 56), and not having received an opioid infusion for at least 12 hours (n = 68). The average age of the patients included was 67 years (Table 1). A total of 14% and 9% of patients, respectively, had a diagnosis of alcohol use disorder or substance use disorder recorded in CPRS. After admission, the most common location for these patients was the surgical ICU (65%). All patients were male. The average hospital LOS was 18.6 days , and the ICU LOS was 8.3 days. The average duration of administration for the opioid (fentanyl) infusion was 63 hours, and the average amount of fentanyl administered to each patient was 57.1 mcg/h.

The incidence of opioid-naïve patients receiving opioids after discharge was 76.3% (n = 90) at 3 months, 19.5% (n = 23) at 6 months and 7.6% (n = 9) at 12 months (Figure). The daily morphine milligram equivalent (MME) of patients prescribed opioids at 3, 6, and 12 months was similar (3 months, 22.7; 6 months, 19.7; 12 months, 20.9). In the univariate regression analysis, several variables were found to be associated with converting to chronic opioid use. Prior history of alcohol use disorder (OR, 0.3; 95% CI, 0.10-0.88; P = .03), ICU type (OR, 3.9; 95% CI, 1.73-8.75; P = .001) and ICU LOS (OR, 0.88; 95% CI, 0.81-0.95; P = .01) had a statistically significant association on opioid use at 3 months. (Table 2). No variables evaluated had a statistically significant effect on chronic opioid use at 6 months, and only age (OR 0.93; 95% CI. 0.87-0.99; P = .02) was statistically significant at 12 months. In the multivariate logistic regression analysis, history of alcohol abuse, admission for surgery, and hospital LOS were significant at 3 months (Table 3).

Discussion

In this single-center analysis conducted at a VA academic hospital of opioid-naïve patients who were administered opioids in the ICU, the incidence of patients subsequently receiving outpatient opioid prescriptions at 12 months after discharge was 7.6%. There also was a decrease in the amount of opioids received by patients (daily MME) after discharge at 3, 6, and 12 months. This trend did not demonstrate the propensity for inpatient opioid use to convert opioid-naïve patients to chronic opioid users.

The most common outpatient opioids prescribed were hydrocodone/acetaminophen, morphine, and tramadol. Logistic regression showed few factors that correlated significantly with opioid use in the long-term (12 month) period. This finding is a deviation from the findings of Yaffe and colleagues who found hospital LOS to be one of the only predictors of long-term opioid use in their population (defined as use at 48 months).¹⁶ One important difference between our study and the Yaffe and colleagues study was that they evaluated all patients who were admitted to the ICU, regardless of the exposure to opioids during their inpatient stay. Consequently, this difference may have resulted in the differences in findings.

Strengths and Limitations

Location was a strength of our study, as this analysis was conducted at an integrated health care system that provides comprehensive inpatient and outpatient care. The VA uses a closed electronic health record, which allowed patients to be followed both in the inpatient and outpatient settings to determine which medications were prescribed at each time. In other health care systems this information would have been difficult to follow as patients often fill outpatient prescriptions at community pharmacies not affiliated with the treating hospital. However, any patient not using a VA prescriber for subsequent opioid prescriptions or patients who received opioids through other sources would not have had their continued opioid use captured. These data may be available in the states prescription monitoring program, but it was not available to query for research at this time.

This study also excluded chronic opioid users, which could have been another confounding factor to account for when analyzing the results. However, the primary objective of the study was to determine the impact of opioids prescribed in the ICU on converting previous opioid-naïve patients to chronic users. Finally, a multivariate logistic regression was incorporated to assess for factors that may predispose certain patients to convert to chronic opioid users. This analysis served to extend the applicability of our study by not only analyzing whether receiving opioids in the ICU contributed to chronic opioid use in the long-term, but also which populations may be at greatest risk. This information can be used in the future to target harm-reduction efforts toward high-risk hospitalized patients.

One limitation of this study was that it was conducted as a retrospective, single-center chart review in Houston, Texas. Because this was not a randomized controlled trial, it is difficult to imply any causation between exposure to opioids in the ICU and chronic use. In addition, because this study was conducted at a single site, the results may not be able to be generalized to other populations. VA populations tend to be elderly and predominantly male, as was reflected by the study population. These factors, along with regional variability in patient characteristics, may limit the generalizability of this study to older male patients located in Southeast Texas or other similar populations. Other limitations of this study also included the small sample size, limited period of follow-up obtained, and that other comorbidity information (pain scores during stay, use of nonopioid pain medications, past history of anxiety or depression, or other acute illnesses or surgeries that may have required opioid therapy during admission) was not collected.

This study was only able to review 118 patients for a follow-up duration of 1 year. In the Yaffe and colleagues study, more than 2,500 patients were followed over 4 years, which provided a more long-term overview of the clinical course of these patients and may be another reason for discrepant findings. However, this study did not actually assess the impact on administration of opioids on the development of chronic opioid use.¹⁶ Finally, the biggest limitation to this study may be the potential for confounding discharge prescriptions. After discharge, patients’ prescriptions were evaluated from discharge to 3 months, in between 3 and 6 months, and between 6 and 12 months for the presence of an opioid prescription. Due to this methodology, any opioid prescription a patient was discharged with was counted in the 3-month time point. Since many patients included in the study were admitted to the surgical ICU (65%), it was logical that they were discharged with opioids after their procedure. While including the immediate postdischarge prescription data was useful for evaluating the decrease in opioid use and incidence over time, it did cause the 3-month time point to appear overly inflated, potentially signaling that at 3 months after discharge many of these patients were still requiring opioid use.

The Society of Critical Care Medicine still recommends opioids as first-line therapy for non-neuropathic pain in the ICU setting.¹⁷ Additionally, postoperative pain can be difficult to manage in the surgical population and is often treated with opioids, though treatment with multimodal pain regimens is becoming more common.¹⁸ It is difficult to imagine that a finding that implicates opioid use in the hospital with conversion to chronic opioid use would prompt a cessation in the use of opioid in these settings, especially in the context of analgosedation related to mechanically ventilated patients. However, it would be plausible to use this knowledge to advocate for opioid-sparing therapies and consideration for weaning individuals at high risk for misuse after discharge from opioid-containing sedation or analgesia regimens in a timelier manner.

Though our findings did not show a clinically relevant increase in chronic opioid users, clinicians can still use this information to encourage targeted education and closer monitoring for those patients deemed as high risk at discharge to prevent unnecessary prolonged opioid use. By having more frequent follow-up in pain clinics, switching patients to nonopioid therapies after discharge, and ensuring high-risk patients are discharged with naloxone rescue kits, it would be possible to drastically reduce the number of potential overdoses for patients who previously required opioid therapy in the ICU.

Conclusion

After discharge, 7.6% of previously opioid-naïve patients who were treated with opioids in the ICU were still receiving prescriptions for opioids at 12 months. These findings did not suggest a clinically significant increase in the incidence of chronic opioid use after inpatient administration of opioids. However, these results prompt the need for larger, prospective, multicenter studies to evaluate the effect on hospitalization on converting to chronic opioid use and a deeper evaluation of other potential risk factors that may be present.

Chronic pain is a worldwide cause of impairment. According to data from the 2016 National Health Interview Survey, an estimated 50 million American adults suffer from chronic pain, with 19.6 million adults suffering from high-impact chronic pain.¹ This phenomenon is particularly prevalent in the older population. More than 25% of adults aged 65 to 74 years reported that they were often in pain in the past 3 months compared with just 10% of those adults between the ages of 18 and 44 years.²

The economic burdens of chronic pain disorders are well known. In 2010, Gaskin and Richard found that chronic pain has far-reaching consequences for the US economy, ranging from direct health care costs to lost productivity. This study estimated additional health care costs at about $300 billion yearly and lost productivity at $300 billion, bringing total annual costs to about $600 billion. This expense is more than heart disease alone ($309 billion), and cancer and diabetes mellitus ($243 billion and $188 billion respectively) combined.³

Opioid medications are powerful and effective pain-reducing agents that are indicated for short-term acute pain or long-term in the management of chronic, severe cancer-related pain.⁴ Although efficacious, use of these medications carries with it the inherent risks of abuse, misuse, addiction, and overdose.⁵ Since 1999, opioid-related overdose deaths have been on the rise. The CDC estimated that > 15,000 deaths were attributable specifically to prescription opioids in 2015.⁶ The estimates had risen to > 17,000 deaths in 2017, with the number increasing since that time.⁷ Cumulatively, the CDC estimates that > 200,000 deaths in the US between 1999 and 2017 are attributed to prescription opioid overdose, clearly marking this trend as a growing nationwide epidemic.⁸

In 2016, Florence and colleagues estimated costs associated with opioid overdose to be just shy of $80 billion in 2013 dollars.⁹ In October 2017, the US Department of Health and Human Services declared the opioid epidemic a public health emergency and committed $900 million to combating the crisis.¹⁰

An abundance of data exist analyzing outpatient prescribing and its impacts on opioid dependence, particularly postoperatively. A study by Brummett and colleagues indicated that the incidence of new persistent opioid use in patients who underwent surgery was 5.9% to 6.5% and did not differ between major and minor surgical procedures. This study concluded that new opioid use could be considered one of the most common complications after elective surgery.¹¹ Similarly, in 2017 Makary and colleagues found that surgeons tend to overprescribe pain medications after procedures; some prescribing as many as 50 to 60 tablets to control pain after simple procedures.¹² This is in stark contrast to pain guideline recommendations of no more than 10 tablets for most standard operative procedures.¹³

Sun and colleagues conducted a retrospective analysis of health care claims data in more than 18 million opioid-naïve patients who did and did not undergo surgery. Seven of the 11 surgical procedures were associated with an increased risk of chronic opioid use. The highest incidence of chronic opioid use in the first postoperative year was for total hip arthroplasty (1.4%, OR 5.10; 95% CI, 1.29-1.53). The study found that the risk factors most associated with chronic opioid use after surgery were male sex, aged > 50 years, and preoperative history of drug abuse, alcohol abuse, or depression, along with benzodiazepine use or antidepressant use.¹⁴ In a 2018 cohort study that evaluated predictors associated with transitioning to incident chronic opioid therapy, 4 factors were identified. These included opioid duration of action (adjusted odds ratio [AOR], 12.28; 95% CI, 8.1-06-18.72), the parent opioid compound (eg, tramadol vs codeine; AOR, 7.26; 95% CI, 5.20-10.13), the presence of conditions that are very likely to cause chronic pain (AOR, 5.47; 95% CI, 3.89-7.68), and drug use disorders (AOR, 4.02; 95% CI, 2.53-6.40).¹⁵

While there has been research into outpatient risk factors and medical practices that may contribute to chronic opioid use, a relative paucity of data exists on the contribution of hospitalization and inpatient opioid use on patient outcomes. A 2014 Canadian study assessed the impact of opioid use in the intensive care unit (ICU) on opioid use after discharge.¹⁶ This study included more than 2,500 patients who were admitted to a Canadian ICU between 2005 and 2008, and then followed after discharge for 48 months to quantify chronic opioid use. Nonopioid users increased from 87.8% in the early post-ICU period to 95.6% at 48 months after discharge. Preadmission chronic opioid use and prolonged hospital length of stay (LOS) were found to be associated with an increased risk of chronic opioid use after discharge.¹⁶ To date, there are no published studies that analyze the incidence of opioid-naïve veterans who convert to chronic opioid use after receiving opioids during an acute hospitalization.

In this retrospective analysis, we analyze the incidence of chronic opioid use after administration of opioids in the ICU as well as a variety of risk factors that may influence conversion to chronic opioid use.

Methods

This analysis was a single center, retrospective chart review conducted for patients admitted between July 1, 2017 and December 31, 2017 at the US Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) Michael E. DeBakey VA Medical Center (MEDVAMC) in Houston, Texas. MEDVAMC is a 538-bed academic\teaching hospital serving about 130,000 veterans in Southeast Texas. The hospital has 3 ICUs (medical, cardiovascular, and surgical) and 38 total ICU beds. The study was approved by the Baylor College of Medicine Institutional Review Board and MEDVAMC Research and Development Review Board. Informed consent was not required.

Inclusion criteria consisted of patients aged ≥ 18 years admitted to the ICU in the above-specified time frame, who were administered a continuous infusion of an opioid for at least 12 hours. Patients were excluded if they were not opioid naïve prior to admission, defined as receiving > 30 days of opioids in the prior 12 months. Patients who died during hospital admission, never received an opioid despite having an active order, were hospital-to-hospital transfers, or were still admitted at the time of data collection were excluded from the analysis.

All pertinent data were collected using the VA Computerized Patient Record System (CPRS) and the Critical Care Manager (Picis Clinical Solutions) ICU monitoring application. Critical Care Manager was used to track the time frame, duration, and amounts of opioid infusions administered in the ICU. Patient demographic and preadmission data, including date of birth, age, race, history of substance use/alcohol use disorder (defined as a previous diagnosis) and previous opioid prescriptions within the past year were recorded. For the inpatient admission, the ICU LOS, hospital LOS, primary admission diagnosis, type of opioid medication administered, and total duration and dose of opioid administered were collected. After discharge, opioid medication fill data at 3, 6, and 12 months were collected. This information included names of any outpatient opioids filled, dosage unit, quantity, day supply, and number of refills.

The primary outcome for this study was to determine the incidence of chronic opioid use at 3, 6, and 12 months after discharge, defined as the percentage of patients receiving outpatient opioid prescriptions at each time point. Analyses were conducted to observe the effect of age, race, history of substance use or history of alcohol use (International Classification of Diseases documented diagnosis, 9th edition), ICU type (medical, surgical, or cardiovascular), surgical/nonsurgical admission, ICU LOS, hospital LOS, total time, and amount of opioids administered during admission on risk of conversion to chronic opioid use.

Descriptive statistics were calculated to analyze the incidence of chronic opioid use. Univariate logistic regression analysis, including ORs, 95% CIs, and P values, was conducted to determine the effects of the risk factors noted earlier on chronic opioid use at each time point. A multivariate logistic regression model was performed to assess the effect of multiple independent variables on opioid use at 3, 6, and 12 months. Statistical analysis was performed using StataCorp Stata SE.

Results

During the study period, 330 patients were admitted to the ICU. After applying inclusion/exclusion criteria, 118 patients were included in the final analysis. The most frequent reasons for exclusion from the study were patient death (n = 77), a past history of opioid use (n = 56), and not having received an opioid infusion for at least 12 hours (n = 68). The average age of the patients included was 67 years (Table 1). A total of 14% and 9% of patients, respectively, had a diagnosis of alcohol use disorder or substance use disorder recorded in CPRS. After admission, the most common location for these patients was the surgical ICU (65%). All patients were male. The average hospital LOS was 18.6 days , and the ICU LOS was 8.3 days. The average duration of administration for the opioid (fentanyl) infusion was 63 hours, and the average amount of fentanyl administered to each patient was 57.1 mcg/h.

The incidence of opioid-naïve patients receiving opioids after discharge was 76.3% (n = 90) at 3 months, 19.5% (n = 23) at 6 months and 7.6% (n = 9) at 12 months (Figure). The daily morphine milligram equivalent (MME) of patients prescribed opioids at 3, 6, and 12 months was similar (3 months, 22.7; 6 months, 19.7; 12 months, 20.9). In the univariate regression analysis, several variables were found to be associated with converting to chronic opioid use. Prior history of alcohol use disorder (OR, 0.3; 95% CI, 0.10-0.88; P = .03), ICU type (OR, 3.9; 95% CI, 1.73-8.75; P = .001) and ICU LOS (OR, 0.88; 95% CI, 0.81-0.95; P = .01) had a statistically significant association on opioid use at 3 months. (Table 2). No variables evaluated had a statistically significant effect on chronic opioid use at 6 months, and only age (OR 0.93; 95% CI. 0.87-0.99; P = .02) was statistically significant at 12 months. In the multivariate logistic regression analysis, history of alcohol abuse, admission for surgery, and hospital LOS were significant at 3 months (Table 3).

Discussion

In this single-center analysis conducted at a VA academic hospital of opioid-naïve patients who were administered opioids in the ICU, the incidence of patients subsequently receiving outpatient opioid prescriptions at 12 months after discharge was 7.6%. There also was a decrease in the amount of opioids received by patients (daily MME) after discharge at 3, 6, and 12 months. This trend did not demonstrate the propensity for inpatient opioid use to convert opioid-naïve patients to chronic opioid users.

The most common outpatient opioids prescribed were hydrocodone/acetaminophen, morphine, and tramadol. Logistic regression showed few factors that correlated significantly with opioid use in the long-term (12 month) period. This finding is a deviation from the findings of Yaffe and colleagues who found hospital LOS to be one of the only predictors of long-term opioid use in their population (defined as use at 48 months).¹⁶ One important difference between our study and the Yaffe and colleagues study was that they evaluated all patients who were admitted to the ICU, regardless of the exposure to opioids during their inpatient stay. Consequently, this difference may have resulted in the differences in findings.

Strengths and Limitations

Location was a strength of our study, as this analysis was conducted at an integrated health care system that provides comprehensive inpatient and outpatient care. The VA uses a closed electronic health record, which allowed patients to be followed both in the inpatient and outpatient settings to determine which medications were prescribed at each time. In other health care systems this information would have been difficult to follow as patients often fill outpatient prescriptions at community pharmacies not affiliated with the treating hospital. However, any patient not using a VA prescriber for subsequent opioid prescriptions or patients who received opioids through other sources would not have had their continued opioid use captured. These data may be available in the states prescription monitoring program, but it was not available to query for research at this time.

This study also excluded chronic opioid users, which could have been another confounding factor to account for when analyzing the results. However, the primary objective of the study was to determine the impact of opioids prescribed in the ICU on converting previous opioid-naïve patients to chronic users. Finally, a multivariate logistic regression was incorporated to assess for factors that may predispose certain patients to convert to chronic opioid users. This analysis served to extend the applicability of our study by not only analyzing whether receiving opioids in the ICU contributed to chronic opioid use in the long-term, but also which populations may be at greatest risk. This information can be used in the future to target harm-reduction efforts toward high-risk hospitalized patients.

One limitation of this study was that it was conducted as a retrospective, single-center chart review in Houston, Texas. Because this was not a randomized controlled trial, it is difficult to imply any causation between exposure to opioids in the ICU and chronic use. In addition, because this study was conducted at a single site, the results may not be able to be generalized to other populations. VA populations tend to be elderly and predominantly male, as was reflected by the study population. These factors, along with regional variability in patient characteristics, may limit the generalizability of this study to older male patients located in Southeast Texas or other similar populations. Other limitations of this study also included the small sample size, limited period of follow-up obtained, and that other comorbidity information (pain scores during stay, use of nonopioid pain medications, past history of anxiety or depression, or other acute illnesses or surgeries that may have required opioid therapy during admission) was not collected.

This study was only able to review 118 patients for a follow-up duration of 1 year. In the Yaffe and colleagues study, more than 2,500 patients were followed over 4 years, which provided a more long-term overview of the clinical course of these patients and may be another reason for discrepant findings. However, this study did not actually assess the impact on administration of opioids on the development of chronic opioid use.¹⁶ Finally, the biggest limitation to this study may be the potential for confounding discharge prescriptions. After discharge, patients’ prescriptions were evaluated from discharge to 3 months, in between 3 and 6 months, and between 6 and 12 months for the presence of an opioid prescription. Due to this methodology, any opioid prescription a patient was discharged with was counted in the 3-month time point. Since many patients included in the study were admitted to the surgical ICU (65%), it was logical that they were discharged with opioids after their procedure. While including the immediate postdischarge prescription data was useful for evaluating the decrease in opioid use and incidence over time, it did cause the 3-month time point to appear overly inflated, potentially signaling that at 3 months after discharge many of these patients were still requiring opioid use.

The Society of Critical Care Medicine still recommends opioids as first-line therapy for non-neuropathic pain in the ICU setting.¹⁷ Additionally, postoperative pain can be difficult to manage in the surgical population and is often treated with opioids, though treatment with multimodal pain regimens is becoming more common.¹⁸ It is difficult to imagine that a finding that implicates opioid use in the hospital with conversion to chronic opioid use would prompt a cessation in the use of opioid in these settings, especially in the context of analgosedation related to mechanically ventilated patients. However, it would be plausible to use this knowledge to advocate for opioid-sparing therapies and consideration for weaning individuals at high risk for misuse after discharge from opioid-containing sedation or analgesia regimens in a timelier manner.

Though our findings did not show a clinically relevant increase in chronic opioid users, clinicians can still use this information to encourage targeted education and closer monitoring for those patients deemed as high risk at discharge to prevent unnecessary prolonged opioid use. By having more frequent follow-up in pain clinics, switching patients to nonopioid therapies after discharge, and ensuring high-risk patients are discharged with naloxone rescue kits, it would be possible to drastically reduce the number of potential overdoses for patients who previously required opioid therapy in the ICU.

Conclusion

After discharge, 7.6% of previously opioid-naïve patients who were treated with opioids in the ICU were still receiving prescriptions for opioids at 12 months. These findings did not suggest a clinically significant increase in the incidence of chronic opioid use after inpatient administration of opioids. However, these results prompt the need for larger, prospective, multicenter studies to evaluate the effect on hospitalization on converting to chronic opioid use and a deeper evaluation of other potential risk factors that may be present.

Specialization, as detailed in Adam Smith’s 1776 landmark treatise, Wealth of Nations,¹ has been an enduring trend in labor and economics for centuries. Mirroring evolution in other sectors of the economy, the healthcare workforce has become ever more specialized.² General practitioners and family doctors have ceded ground to a bevy of specialists and subspecialists ranging from pediatric endocrinologists to otolaryngology-neurotologists. Given the growth in medical knowledge over the past century, this specialization seems both necessary and good. This same specialization that serves us in good times, though, leaves us woefully underprepared for an epidemic that will require large numbers of hospitalists/generalists and intensivists, such as the current coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic.

A bit on terminology before we proceed. For purposes of this paper we define generalists as physicians trained in Internal Medicine, Family Medicine, Pediatrics, or Med/Peds who provide primary hospital care to adults and children. While some may argue that hospitalists are specialists in inpatient care, we would like to focus on hospitalists as generalists who focus on inpatient care and what we have in common with the broader community of generalists. We include as generalists anyone, irrespective of clinical training, who chooses broad primary patient responsibility over the narrower consultative role. There is always a specialist in our midst who knows more about a particular disease or condition; as generalists, most of us appreciate and welcome that expertise.

Sometimes it takes a pandemic like COVID-19 to highlight a tremendous blind spot in our healthcare system that, in retrospect, seems hard to have missed. What do we do when we need more generalists and have only a surplus of specialists, many of whom were involuntarily “furloughed” by canceled elective procedures and postponed clinics? How do we “un-specialize” our specialist workforce?

We will discuss some of the most pressing problems facing hospitals working to ensure adequate staffing for general inpatient units caused by the simultaneous reductions in physician availability (because of illness and/or quarantine) and markedly increased admissions of undifferentiated COVID-19–related illnesses. We will assume that hospitals have already activated all providers practicing in areas most similar to hospital medicine, including generalists who have mixed inpatient/outpatient practices, subspecialists with significant inpatient clinical roles, fellows, and advanced practice providers (APPs) with inpatient experience. The Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education released guidance around the roles of physician trainees during the pandemic.³ Despite these measures, though, further workforce augmentation will be vital. To that end, several challenges to clinical staffing are enumerated below, accompanied by strategies to address them.

1. Clinicians eager to help, but out of practice in the inpatient setting: As hospitals across the country work to develop physician staffing contingency plans for scenarios in which general inpatient volumes increase by 50%-300% while 33%-50% of hospitalists either become infected or require quarantine, many hospitals are looking to bolster their physician depth. We have been extremely gratified by the tremendous response from the broader physician communities in which we work. We have encountered retired physicians who have volunteered to come back to work despite being at higher risk of severe COVID-19 complications and physician-­scientists offering to step back into clinical roles. We have found outstanding subspecialists asking to work under the tutelage of experienced hospitalists; these specialists recognize how, despite years of clinical experience, they would need significant supervision to function in the inpatient setting. The humility and self-awareness of these volunteers has been phenomenal.

Retraining researchers, subspecialists, and retirees as hospitalists requires purposeful onboarding to target key educational goals. This onboarding should stress COVID-19–specific medical management, training in infection prevention and control, and hospital-specific workflow processes (eg, shift length, sign-over). Onboarding must also include access and orientation to electronic health records, training around inpatient documentation requirements, and billing practices. Non–COVID-19 healthcare will continue; hospitals and clinical leaders will need to determine whether certain specialists should focus on COVID-19 care alone and leave others to continue with speciality practice still needed. Ready access to hospital medicine and medical subspecialty consultation will be pivotal in supervising providers asked to step into hospitalist roles.

The onboarding process we describe might best be viewed through the lens of focused professional practice evaluation (FPPE). Required by the Joint Commission, FPPE is a process for the medical staff of a facility to evaluate privilege-specific competence by clinicians and is used for any new clinical privileges and when there may be question as to a current practitioner’s capabilities. The usual FPPE process includes reassessment of provider practice, typically at 3 to 6 months. Doing so may be challenging given overall workforce stress and the timing of clinical demand—eg, time for medical record review will be limited. Consideration of a “preceptorship” with an experienced hospitalist providing verbal oversight for providers with emergency privileges may be very appropriate. Indeed the Joint Commission recently published guidance around FPPE during the COVID-19 epidemic with the suggestion that mentorship and direct observation are reasonable ways to ensure quality.⁴

Concerns around scope of practice and medicolegal liability must be rapidly addressed by professional practice organizations, state medical boards, and medical malpractice insurers to protect frontline providers, nurses, and pharmacists. In particular, Joint Commission FPPE process requirements may need to be relaxed to respond to a surge in clinical demand. Contingency and crisis standards of care permit doing so. We welcome the introduction of processes to expedite provider licensure in many hard-hit states.

2. Clinicians who should not help because of medical comorbidities or age: Individuals with certain significant comorbidities (eg, inflammatory conditions treated with immunosuppressants, pulmonary disease, cancer with active treatment) or meeting certain age criteria should be discouraged from clinical work because the dangers of illness for them and of transmission of illness are high. Judgment and a version of mutual informed consent will be needed to address fewer clear scenarios, such as whether a 35-year-old physician who requires a steroid inhaler for asthma or a 64-year-old physician who is otherwise healthy have higher risk. It is our opinion that all physicians should contribute to the care of patients with documented or suspected COVID-19 unless they meet institutionally defined exclusion criteria. We should recognize that physicians who are unable to provide direct care to patients with COVID-19 infection may have significant remorse and feelings that they are letting down their colleagues and the oath they have taken. As the COVID -19 pandemic continues, we are quickly learning that physicians who have contraindications to providing care to patients with active COVID-19 infection can still contribute in numerous mission-critical ways. This may include virtual (telehealth) visits, preceptorship via telehealth of providers completing FPPE in hospital medicine practice, postdischarge follow-up of patients who are no longer infectious, and other care-­coordination activities, such as triaging direct admission calls.

3. Clinicians who should be able to help but are fearful: All efforts must be undertaken to protect healthcare workers from acquiring COVID-19. Nevertheless, there are models predicting that ultimately the vast majority of the world’s population will be exposed, including healthcare workers.^5,6 In our personal experience as hospitalists and leaders, the vast majority (95%-plus) of our hospitalists have not only continued to do their job but taken on additional responsibilities and clinical work despite the risk. We are hesitant to co-opt words like courage and bravery that we typically would reserve for people in far more hazardous lines of work than physicians, but in the current setting perhaps courage is the correct term. In quiet conversation, many are vaguely unnerved and some significantly so, but they set their angst aside and get to work. The same can be said for the numerous subspecialists, surgeons, nurses, and others who have volunteered to help.

Alternatively, as leaders, we must manage an extremely small minority of faculty who request to not care for patients with COVID-19 despite no clear contraindication. These situations are nuanced and fraught with difficulty for leaders. As physicians we have moral and ethical obligations to society.⁷ We also have contractual obligations to our employers. Finally, we have a professional duty to our colleagues. When such cases arise, as leaders we should try to understand the perspective of the physician making the request. It is also important to remember that as leaders we are obliged to be fair and equitable to all faculty; granting exceptions to some who ask to avoid COVID-19-related work, but not to others, is difficult to justify. Moreover, granting exceptions can undermine faith in leadership and inevitably sow discord. We suggest setting clear mutual expectations of engagement and not granting unwarranted exceptions.

In this time of a global pandemic, we face a looming shortage of hospital generalists, which calls for immediate and purposeful workforce expansion facilitated by learning to “un-specialize” certain providers. We propose utilizing the framework of FPPE to educate and support those joining hospital medicine teams. Hospitalists are innovators and health systems science leaders. Let’s draw on that strength now to rise to the challenge of COVID-19.

Specialization, as detailed in Adam Smith’s 1776 landmark treatise, Wealth of Nations,¹ has been an enduring trend in labor and economics for centuries. Mirroring evolution in other sectors of the economy, the healthcare workforce has become ever more specialized.² General practitioners and family doctors have ceded ground to a bevy of specialists and subspecialists ranging from pediatric endocrinologists to otolaryngology-neurotologists. Given the growth in medical knowledge over the past century, this specialization seems both necessary and good. This same specialization that serves us in good times, though, leaves us woefully underprepared for an epidemic that will require large numbers of hospitalists/generalists and intensivists, such as the current coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic.

A bit on terminology before we proceed. For purposes of this paper we define generalists as physicians trained in Internal Medicine, Family Medicine, Pediatrics, or Med/Peds who provide primary hospital care to adults and children. While some may argue that hospitalists are specialists in inpatient care, we would like to focus on hospitalists as generalists who focus on inpatient care and what we have in common with the broader community of generalists. We include as generalists anyone, irrespective of clinical training, who chooses broad primary patient responsibility over the narrower consultative role. There is always a specialist in our midst who knows more about a particular disease or condition; as generalists, most of us appreciate and welcome that expertise.

Sometimes it takes a pandemic like COVID-19 to highlight a tremendous blind spot in our healthcare system that, in retrospect, seems hard to have missed. What do we do when we need more generalists and have only a surplus of specialists, many of whom were involuntarily “furloughed” by canceled elective procedures and postponed clinics? How do we “un-specialize” our specialist workforce?

We will discuss some of the most pressing problems facing hospitals working to ensure adequate staffing for general inpatient units caused by the simultaneous reductions in physician availability (because of illness and/or quarantine) and markedly increased admissions of undifferentiated COVID-19–related illnesses. We will assume that hospitals have already activated all providers practicing in areas most similar to hospital medicine, including generalists who have mixed inpatient/outpatient practices, subspecialists with significant inpatient clinical roles, fellows, and advanced practice providers (APPs) with inpatient experience. The Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education released guidance around the roles of physician trainees during the pandemic.³ Despite these measures, though, further workforce augmentation will be vital. To that end, several challenges to clinical staffing are enumerated below, accompanied by strategies to address them.

1. Clinicians eager to help, but out of practice in the inpatient setting: As hospitals across the country work to develop physician staffing contingency plans for scenarios in which general inpatient volumes increase by 50%-300% while 33%-50% of hospitalists either become infected or require quarantine, many hospitals are looking to bolster their physician depth. We have been extremely gratified by the tremendous response from the broader physician communities in which we work. We have encountered retired physicians who have volunteered to come back to work despite being at higher risk of severe COVID-19 complications and physician-­scientists offering to step back into clinical roles. We have found outstanding subspecialists asking to work under the tutelage of experienced hospitalists; these specialists recognize how, despite years of clinical experience, they would need significant supervision to function in the inpatient setting. The humility and self-awareness of these volunteers has been phenomenal.

Retraining researchers, subspecialists, and retirees as hospitalists requires purposeful onboarding to target key educational goals. This onboarding should stress COVID-19–specific medical management, training in infection prevention and control, and hospital-specific workflow processes (eg, shift length, sign-over). Onboarding must also include access and orientation to electronic health records, training around inpatient documentation requirements, and billing practices. Non–COVID-19 healthcare will continue; hospitals and clinical leaders will need to determine whether certain specialists should focus on COVID-19 care alone and leave others to continue with speciality practice still needed. Ready access to hospital medicine and medical subspecialty consultation will be pivotal in supervising providers asked to step into hospitalist roles.

The onboarding process we describe might best be viewed through the lens of focused professional practice evaluation (FPPE). Required by the Joint Commission, FPPE is a process for the medical staff of a facility to evaluate privilege-specific competence by clinicians and is used for any new clinical privileges and when there may be question as to a current practitioner’s capabilities. The usual FPPE process includes reassessment of provider practice, typically at 3 to 6 months. Doing so may be challenging given overall workforce stress and the timing of clinical demand—eg, time for medical record review will be limited. Consideration of a “preceptorship” with an experienced hospitalist providing verbal oversight for providers with emergency privileges may be very appropriate. Indeed the Joint Commission recently published guidance around FPPE during the COVID-19 epidemic with the suggestion that mentorship and direct observation are reasonable ways to ensure quality.⁴

Concerns around scope of practice and medicolegal liability must be rapidly addressed by professional practice organizations, state medical boards, and medical malpractice insurers to protect frontline providers, nurses, and pharmacists. In particular, Joint Commission FPPE process requirements may need to be relaxed to respond to a surge in clinical demand. Contingency and crisis standards of care permit doing so. We welcome the introduction of processes to expedite provider licensure in many hard-hit states.

2. Clinicians who should not help because of medical comorbidities or age: Individuals with certain significant comorbidities (eg, inflammatory conditions treated with immunosuppressants, pulmonary disease, cancer with active treatment) or meeting certain age criteria should be discouraged from clinical work because the dangers of illness for them and of transmission of illness are high. Judgment and a version of mutual informed consent will be needed to address fewer clear scenarios, such as whether a 35-year-old physician who requires a steroid inhaler for asthma or a 64-year-old physician who is otherwise healthy have higher risk. It is our opinion that all physicians should contribute to the care of patients with documented or suspected COVID-19 unless they meet institutionally defined exclusion criteria. We should recognize that physicians who are unable to provide direct care to patients with COVID-19 infection may have significant remorse and feelings that they are letting down their colleagues and the oath they have taken. As the COVID -19 pandemic continues, we are quickly learning that physicians who have contraindications to providing care to patients with active COVID-19 infection can still contribute in numerous mission-critical ways. This may include virtual (telehealth) visits, preceptorship via telehealth of providers completing FPPE in hospital medicine practice, postdischarge follow-up of patients who are no longer infectious, and other care-­coordination activities, such as triaging direct admission calls.

3. Clinicians who should be able to help but are fearful: All efforts must be undertaken to protect healthcare workers from acquiring COVID-19. Nevertheless, there are models predicting that ultimately the vast majority of the world’s population will be exposed, including healthcare workers.^5,6 In our personal experience as hospitalists and leaders, the vast majority (95%-plus) of our hospitalists have not only continued to do their job but taken on additional responsibilities and clinical work despite the risk. We are hesitant to co-opt words like courage and bravery that we typically would reserve for people in far more hazardous lines of work than physicians, but in the current setting perhaps courage is the correct term. In quiet conversation, many are vaguely unnerved and some significantly so, but they set their angst aside and get to work. The same can be said for the numerous subspecialists, surgeons, nurses, and others who have volunteered to help.

Alternatively, as leaders, we must manage an extremely small minority of faculty who request to not care for patients with COVID-19 despite no clear contraindication. These situations are nuanced and fraught with difficulty for leaders. As physicians we have moral and ethical obligations to society.⁷ We also have contractual obligations to our employers. Finally, we have a professional duty to our colleagues. When such cases arise, as leaders we should try to understand the perspective of the physician making the request. It is also important to remember that as leaders we are obliged to be fair and equitable to all faculty; granting exceptions to some who ask to avoid COVID-19-related work, but not to others, is difficult to justify. Moreover, granting exceptions can undermine faith in leadership and inevitably sow discord. We suggest setting clear mutual expectations of engagement and not granting unwarranted exceptions.

In this time of a global pandemic, we face a looming shortage of hospital generalists, which calls for immediate and purposeful workforce expansion facilitated by learning to “un-specialize” certain providers. We propose utilizing the framework of FPPE to educate and support those joining hospital medicine teams. Hospitalists are innovators and health systems science leaders. Let’s draw on that strength now to rise to the challenge of COVID-19.

Specialization, as detailed in Adam Smith’s 1776 landmark treatise, Wealth of Nations,¹ has been an enduring trend in labor and economics for centuries. Mirroring evolution in other sectors of the economy, the healthcare workforce has become ever more specialized.² General practitioners and family doctors have ceded ground to a bevy of specialists and subspecialists ranging from pediatric endocrinologists to otolaryngology-neurotologists. Given the growth in medical knowledge over the past century, this specialization seems both necessary and good. This same specialization that serves us in good times, though, leaves us woefully underprepared for an epidemic that will require large numbers of hospitalists/generalists and intensivists, such as the current coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic.

A bit on terminology before we proceed. For purposes of this paper we define generalists as physicians trained in Internal Medicine, Family Medicine, Pediatrics, or Med/Peds who provide primary hospital care to adults and children. While some may argue that hospitalists are specialists in inpatient care, we would like to focus on hospitalists as generalists who focus on inpatient care and what we have in common with the broader community of generalists. We include as generalists anyone, irrespective of clinical training, who chooses broad primary patient responsibility over the narrower consultative role. There is always a specialist in our midst who knows more about a particular disease or condition; as generalists, most of us appreciate and welcome that expertise.

Sometimes it takes a pandemic like COVID-19 to highlight a tremendous blind spot in our healthcare system that, in retrospect, seems hard to have missed. What do we do when we need more generalists and have only a surplus of specialists, many of whom were involuntarily “furloughed” by canceled elective procedures and postponed clinics? How do we “un-specialize” our specialist workforce?

We will discuss some of the most pressing problems facing hospitals working to ensure adequate staffing for general inpatient units caused by the simultaneous reductions in physician availability (because of illness and/or quarantine) and markedly increased admissions of undifferentiated COVID-19–related illnesses. We will assume that hospitals have already activated all providers practicing in areas most similar to hospital medicine, including generalists who have mixed inpatient/outpatient practices, subspecialists with significant inpatient clinical roles, fellows, and advanced practice providers (APPs) with inpatient experience. The Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education released guidance around the roles of physician trainees during the pandemic.³ Despite these measures, though, further workforce augmentation will be vital. To that end, several challenges to clinical staffing are enumerated below, accompanied by strategies to address them.

1. Clinicians eager to help, but out of practice in the inpatient setting: As hospitals across the country work to develop physician staffing contingency plans for scenarios in which general inpatient volumes increase by 50%-300% while 33%-50% of hospitalists either become infected or require quarantine, many hospitals are looking to bolster their physician depth. We have been extremely gratified by the tremendous response from the broader physician communities in which we work. We have encountered retired physicians who have volunteered to come back to work despite being at higher risk of severe COVID-19 complications and physician-­scientists offering to step back into clinical roles. We have found outstanding subspecialists asking to work under the tutelage of experienced hospitalists; these specialists recognize how, despite years of clinical experience, they would need significant supervision to function in the inpatient setting. The humility and self-awareness of these volunteers has been phenomenal.

Retraining researchers, subspecialists, and retirees as hospitalists requires purposeful onboarding to target key educational goals. This onboarding should stress COVID-19–specific medical management, training in infection prevention and control, and hospital-specific workflow processes (eg, shift length, sign-over). Onboarding must also include access and orientation to electronic health records, training around inpatient documentation requirements, and billing practices. Non–COVID-19 healthcare will continue; hospitals and clinical leaders will need to determine whether certain specialists should focus on COVID-19 care alone and leave others to continue with speciality practice still needed. Ready access to hospital medicine and medical subspecialty consultation will be pivotal in supervising providers asked to step into hospitalist roles.

The onboarding process we describe might best be viewed through the lens of focused professional practice evaluation (FPPE). Required by the Joint Commission, FPPE is a process for the medical staff of a facility to evaluate privilege-specific competence by clinicians and is used for any new clinical privileges and when there may be question as to a current practitioner’s capabilities. The usual FPPE process includes reassessment of provider practice, typically at 3 to 6 months. Doing so may be challenging given overall workforce stress and the timing of clinical demand—eg, time for medical record review will be limited. Consideration of a “preceptorship” with an experienced hospitalist providing verbal oversight for providers with emergency privileges may be very appropriate. Indeed the Joint Commission recently published guidance around FPPE during the COVID-19 epidemic with the suggestion that mentorship and direct observation are reasonable ways to ensure quality.⁴

Concerns around scope of practice and medicolegal liability must be rapidly addressed by professional practice organizations, state medical boards, and medical malpractice insurers to protect frontline providers, nurses, and pharmacists. In particular, Joint Commission FPPE process requirements may need to be relaxed to respond to a surge in clinical demand. Contingency and crisis standards of care permit doing so. We welcome the introduction of processes to expedite provider licensure in many hard-hit states.

2. Clinicians who should not help because of medical comorbidities or age: Individuals with certain significant comorbidities (eg, inflammatory conditions treated with immunosuppressants, pulmonary disease, cancer with active treatment) or meeting certain age criteria should be discouraged from clinical work because the dangers of illness for them and of transmission of illness are high. Judgment and a version of mutual informed consent will be needed to address fewer clear scenarios, such as whether a 35-year-old physician who requires a steroid inhaler for asthma or a 64-year-old physician who is otherwise healthy have higher risk. It is our opinion that all physicians should contribute to the care of patients with documented or suspected COVID-19 unless they meet institutionally defined exclusion criteria. We should recognize that physicians who are unable to provide direct care to patients with COVID-19 infection may have significant remorse and feelings that they are letting down their colleagues and the oath they have taken. As the COVID -19 pandemic continues, we are quickly learning that physicians who have contraindications to providing care to patients with active COVID-19 infection can still contribute in numerous mission-critical ways. This may include virtual (telehealth) visits, preceptorship via telehealth of providers completing FPPE in hospital medicine practice, postdischarge follow-up of patients who are no longer infectious, and other care-­coordination activities, such as triaging direct admission calls.

3. Clinicians who should be able to help but are fearful: All efforts must be undertaken to protect healthcare workers from acquiring COVID-19. Nevertheless, there are models predicting that ultimately the vast majority of the world’s population will be exposed, including healthcare workers.^5,6 In our personal experience as hospitalists and leaders, the vast majority (95%-plus) of our hospitalists have not only continued to do their job but taken on additional responsibilities and clinical work despite the risk. We are hesitant to co-opt words like courage and bravery that we typically would reserve for people in far more hazardous lines of work than physicians, but in the current setting perhaps courage is the correct term. In quiet conversation, many are vaguely unnerved and some significantly so, but they set their angst aside and get to work. The same can be said for the numerous subspecialists, surgeons, nurses, and others who have volunteered to help.

Alternatively, as leaders, we must manage an extremely small minority of faculty who request to not care for patients with COVID-19 despite no clear contraindication. These situations are nuanced and fraught with difficulty for leaders. As physicians we have moral and ethical obligations to society.⁷ We also have contractual obligations to our employers. Finally, we have a professional duty to our colleagues. When such cases arise, as leaders we should try to understand the perspective of the physician making the request. It is also important to remember that as leaders we are obliged to be fair and equitable to all faculty; granting exceptions to some who ask to avoid COVID-19-related work, but not to others, is difficult to justify. Moreover, granting exceptions can undermine faith in leadership and inevitably sow discord. We suggest setting clear mutual expectations of engagement and not granting unwarranted exceptions.

In this time of a global pandemic, we face a looming shortage of hospital generalists, which calls for immediate and purposeful workforce expansion facilitated by learning to “un-specialize” certain providers. We propose utilizing the framework of FPPE to educate and support those joining hospital medicine teams. Hospitalists are innovators and health systems science leaders. Let’s draw on that strength now to rise to the challenge of COVID-19.