Thursday, July 18, 2013

The Patient Needs A Doctor

July always makes me think of my intern year. Every July, my Facebook feed is peppered with commentary on the newness of the interns, the naivete of the medical students, and the challenges of advancement to senior roles.

I look back on my intern year fondly. It was hard. And exhausting. But there is such an incredible feeling of satisfaction not only in accomplishing something that is difficult but also in knowing that you are improving. My husband and I were newlyweds. He was a surgical intern and we supported each other up the learning curve of hospital life. Post-call, over dinners of take-out and three dollar wine, we shared our experiences.

One evening my husband told me about rounding with his attending the morning after an especially busy call night. While making their way down the hall, seeing each newly admitted patient, the attending surgeon paused at the room of a patient who was not on the team list. The man looked terrible -- roughly 60 years old, jaundiced and somnolent. As my husband frantically shuffled through notes and lists wondering how he had forgotten an admission, the attending introduced himself and did a brief exam. Upon exiting the patient's room, he asked the team to add the patient to the list. My husband was certain that he had not forgotten any of the night's admissions and consults. "Sir," he asked, confused. "Is this our patient? I don't remember admitting him."

"This man needs a doctor," the attending responded simply and continued with rounds.**

That night, we laughed at the statement and attributed it to the quirkiness of a dear mentor. The year progressed and the phrase stuck with us. It came in handy as we retold the frustrations and challenges of new services, perceived injustices, and work left undone by other services or other residents. "Oh!" the listener would interject lightheartedly. "You're saying the patient needed a doctor!"

Later in our training, our use of the phrase reflected a more seasoned perspective. While supervising admissions, teaching and managing the very sick, we would also find ourselves caring for people who might traditionally be admitted to different services or were, perhaps, admitted for conservative reasons. As interns we might have complained but as seniors we would merely shrug and say, "I guess the patient needed a doctor." (Of note, this is easier when you are not the one doing the grunt work of an intern.)

I work in the pediatric emergency department now. There is a lot of discussion both during my shifts and in the global medical community about misuse of emergency services by patients. I hear the comments regularly.

"My parents would never have brought me to the ER for that."
"Didn't they call their PCP? It's the middle of the day."
"It's 2 am. This couldn't wait until the morning?"

On Twitter, other blogs and in medical journals, there is discussion as to how we can encourage proper home triage. I used to ask the patients themselves but have stopped unless it seems useful to my clinical decision making. The answers are always the same. The pediatrician's schedule was full. The parents could not take time off from work. They did not have a car. It seemed like it was getting worse. Someone was hurting. Someone was worried.

In all of these situations, whether expressed out of frustration or resignation, the statement "This patient needs a doctor" repaints the picture. What was once an injustice becomes a call to duty. Sometimes our job is not fair. Politics, fatigue, electronic medical records, work hours and someone else's bad day can all compete to cloud our outlook. While many of these things do need improvement, it helps to remember that at the bottom of this, there is a patient who needs a doctor.


**For my mom and others not in the medical field, a patient does not get admitted to the hospital without a specific doctor agreeing to care for him or her. The patient in this story was admitted to another hospital service but the surgeon identified him as potentially in need of surgical care.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

There's an app for that

I joined Twitter two years ago when my 22 year old sister told me I was too young to act like a technology-ignorant, old fuddyduddy. What she did not tell me was the wealth of information that can be accessed by engaging through social media. I learn from and talk to all kinds of interesting people regularly. If you are not on Twitter, you should try it. If you think it is a waste of time filled only with the vapid musings of the famously famous, you are doing it wrong. The biggest celebrities that I follow are Atul Gawande and Wendy Sue Swanson. Neither is very likely to be featured on TMZ tonight but if I ever meet either in person, I am very likely to be starstruck.

If you would like to read more about why health care professionals should be on Twitter, Brittany Chan wrote a nice piece on the topic here.

I want to share with you the content of a cool Twitter conversation (twittersation?) I had a few weeks ago.

It started with a tweet by Joel Topf about using the iPhone flash to look in someone’s throat. Cell phones have so permeated our lives that a physician’s iPhone is apt to be more readily available than traditional tools. No to mention, the LED flash is brighter than the standard otoscope lightbulb.

The tangential conversation that followed highlights what can happen when you combine the iPhone LED flash, human ingenuity and a strong interest in looking in throats and ears.

1. The Remotoscope 


Emily Hahn shared this one. It is an attachment for the iPhone that lets you video the tympanic membrane (ear drum). I want one. The ability to show parents what their child's ear looks like would be incredible. I spend a lot of time describing the tympanic membrane but I do not know what picture my words are painting in the imagination of the parent. I hope it is a close approximation of what I see. An actual video that we can both look at and discuss would advance the conversation immensely. Hopefully it would allow the parent to have a deeper understanding of ear infections. Maybe it would lead to fewer tympanostomies (aka ear tubes).

In the hands of a medical student or resident, it would lend itself to specific teaching and targeted feedback. It took me a long time to figure out that my biggest obstacle to visualizing the ear drum was proper positioning of the child. My findings were always double checked with a senior physician's exam, but it was difficult for my instructors to glean what I had actually seen. It is even more difficult to teach the difference between infected and not infected when the learner has not gotten a good look.

The Remotoscope is currently being studied at Emory and Georgia Tech and is in the clinical study stage of development. One of the questions they are considering is whether this tool could be used by parents at home and spare a trip to the doctor.

Here is a video demonstrating its use:


2. How to look at your larynx with your iPhone 

There was some commentary on the quality of the videos of tonsils obtained with an iPhone. Michael Katz shared Dr. Helgi’s photo, acquired with an iPhone.

For those of you who may be unfamiliar, the structure in the center is the epiglottis (protective flap over the airway) leading into the trachea (tube that connects the throat to the lungs). It is located past the tonsils. Pretty impressive shot. How does one get this pic? According to Dr. Helgi, like this:



Now, I will be honest. One of my favorite resources at work is the Quat Wipe. I use them on my stethoscope, ID, phone, keyboard, etc. I have not reviewed any of the evidence but I like to think they are significantly stronger than Clorox wipes and have near-magical properties. I have a lot of faith in them. But not enough to put my phone in my or anyone else's mouth. I will not be trying this anytime soon.

However, when the folks in Georgia are ready to share their Remotoscope with the rest of us, call me. Or email. Or tweet… It is all on my iPhone, which is nearly always in my hand.

*****************************

To learn more about the people mentioned in this post, click on their names. They are all physicians that I follow on twitter. They all tweet about medicine as well as non-medical topics that they find interesting. Check out their Twitter profiles and click the follow button!

To read more about the remotoscope, go here:
http://gatech.edu/newsroom/release.html?nid=155181
http://pediatricdevicesatlanta.org/remotoscope

Monday, April 15, 2013

Guest Post at Still Standing Magazine

Today I am writing over at Still Standing Magazine.

Still Standing is an online publication that is focused on "inspiration and hope, in the face of loss and infertility." The magazine has been a source of peace and healing for me over the past year and I am incredibly honored to have my writing posted there.

 In January 2012, our daughter Anne was born still after eighteen weeks of pregnancy. Her death broke our hearts but with her short life, she has taught us more about love and grief and parenting than we could have ever thought possible.  This guest post, My Anne Pants, is just a piece of her story.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Sleep is for the birds and (fingers crossed) teenagers

Have you ever had one of those nights where you were woken up so many times that, at one point of wakefulness, you could not believe it was still nighttime?  And despite your fatigue, you almost did not want to go back to sleep because you knew that another premature awakening was waiting for you?  That was my night last night.

My daughter is an amazing sleeper.  Since six weeks of age, she has slept 7 to 9 hours almost every night.  I credit my pediatrician and her excellent coaching (Of me, not the kid).  Last night was one of the exceptions.  At 1 am, she was upset about being awake but later decided it was fantastic.  Normally, I love the sounds of a cooing baby practicing baby aerobics.  At two in the morning, it is actually quite difficult to sleep when the person in the bassinet next to you is having a raucous, one girl party.  Apparently, violating city noise ordinances is the natural next step after breaking out of your swaddle and spitting out your binkie.

When my son started sleeping through the night around 13 months, my husband and I were thrilled.  After one solid night of sleep, we said to each other, "I feel amazing!  Let's have more kids!"  We did not realize that a one year old sleeping all night was a short-lived accomplishment.  Potty training and nightmares lay just around the corner.

It is unfair that these two developmental hurdles overlap.  It gives my son two reasons to be up at night and two reasons to crawl into our bed.  It has, on more than one occasion, left me thinking how ineffective a mattress protector is when the person it was purchased for is in my bed.  Also, do they sell waterproof pajamas for moms? 

While the urine is inconvenient, the nightmares break my heart.  At 3am, my son arrived in our room demanding assistance with wet pjs.  We groaned.  At 4am, he cried out in his sleep, "I'm afraid!"  My heart ached.  It was nice to be able to hug him immediately but how dare scary lions and bad guys enter my son's dreams?  

We reassure him that he is always safe with us.  We try to empower him by encouraging him to put bad guys in time-out for inappropriate behavior.  We cheer for him when his play involves chasing scary lions from our house.  We try to maintain some control by limiting what he is exposed to on tv. As much as we do to protect him, it is hard to know that we cannot protect him from fear and his own imagination.  Harder still is realizing that someday he will be independent in a world with real bad guys. I think we are handling it ok.  This morning he picked up an imaginary creature and handed it to me, "Here, Mommy.  It's a nice, little, baby bad guy. Awwww."

If bladders can be controlled and imaginary bad guys can be tamed, maybe small humans can learn to sleep through the night every night. Until then, I will be thankful for strong coffee and good concealer.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Fact: I have never checked my kids’ temperature

It is true.  Never.  Once I tried.  My son was 18 months old and had Hand Foot and Mouth Virus.  He had been out of school (and I had been home from work) for a solid 2.5 days due to fever.  I was trying to convince myself that he really did not have a fever and I could go back to work.  I tried to use an ear thermometer.  For the record, I own a digital rectal thermometer but I could not find it at the time.  I do not know what I was thinking.  Everyone knows that 18 month olds hate having medical instruments in their ears and ear thermometers are notoriously inaccurate.   It was a fruitless endeavor.  My usually joyful toddler squirmed to the floor in tears before the required five seconds were up and I realized that, fever or no fever, a kid this miserable did not belong at school.

When I was a medical student, I used to document "tactile temperature" with a sense of serious doubt.  Then one of my attendings drew my attention to an article published in Pediatric Emergency Care in 1996.  The article showed that moms are pretty great at telling if their kids were febrile or not with about 80% accuracy.  When you compare that with ear thermometers, forehead strips and other devices, 80% is pretty respectable.  Now that I am a parent, I do not need a study to tell me that moms know what they are talking about.  It is painfully obvious when my son has a fever.  My house turns into Meltdown City as he loses all abilities to cope with frustration.  He feels incredibly hot.  This is usually topped off with a running nose or some other lovely sign that his body has been turned into a virus breeding ground.  (I use my son as the example because he has had many, many fevers.  Thankfully, my daughter has only felt warm once and this was accompanied by a runny nose and happy baby smiles.)

I see a lot of kids whose parents have kept a detailed record of the ups and downs of the thermometer readings.  Some of these parents are checking temperatures every two hours.  To begin with, I am super impressed by their dedication and ability to get the readings.  You see how well my one and only attempt went.  How do you get a kid who feels terrible to hold still that long?  That many times in a day?  It cannot not be easy.  To be completely honest, though, as a pediatrician, I do not care about fevers in that detail.  For the most part, I do not care about the numbers at all.  If you are his primary caregiver and you tell me he had a fever, I believe you.   I actually kind of prefer the tactile temperature.  Anecdotally, actual numbers can make things more confusing.  I spend quite a bit of time sorting out and discussing home readings of 108, 99.7, 19 and Lo.  The findings of a study done at Stanford University indicate that most people (as in, every person surveyed) have a hard time remembering what temperature readings dictate a true fever.   Hands, on the other hand, seem to have a pretty great memory for the difference between warm and hot.

I have never checked my kids’ temperature because the actual number does not make much of a difference to me.  I know he (or she) is sick.  I know he has a fever.  And on day one, two and three of illness, I know that it is most likely a virus.  So if he does the other things he is supposed to do - breathe, drink, pee and throw impressive fits when I approach him with the blue nasal suction bulb - the height of his fever is not going to change much of what his pediatrician or I will do for him. 

Now, a caveat - there is always a caveat - neither of my kids has ever been lethargic.  Neither of them has ever had a fever under the age of 3 months.  If I was ever faced with either of these situations, I do not know that I would waste time rummaging through the linen closet looking for my digital thermometer.  I think I would be bee-lining it to the nearest medical center.  The only situation that I can imagine myself wanting to know a real number at home would be if I really thought my child had a fever but could not figure out why.  As in, no runny nose, cough, upset tummy, etc.  But even in that case, I would probably be seeking out an objective medical opinion fairly soon afterwards.  A temperature reading greater than 100.4 F would only speed my decision along.


References:
Dodd, SR, et al.  “In a systematic review, infrared ear thermometry for fever diagnosis in children finds poor sensitivity.”  Journal of Clinical Epidemiology. 2006 Apr;59(4):354-7. Epub 2006 Feb 20.

Graneto JW and Soglin DF.  “Maternal screening of childhood fever by palpation.”  Pediatric Emergency Care. 1996 Jun;12(3):183-4.

Wallenstein MB, et al.  “Fever Literacy and Fever Phobia.”  Clinical Pediatrics. 2013 Mar;52(3):254-9. Epub 2013 Jan 24.


Saturday, March 16, 2013

Awesome product & follow-up on kid-friendly bathroom facilities

One of my former co-chiefs just saw this in the Atlanta airport. It is called a Step 'n Wash.  It folds out and serves as a step to help kids reach sinks and wash their hands. I would also like to draw your attention to the motion activated faucet and soap dispenser in the picture. I have yet to embark on Air Travel with Toddler but I would be so happy to help my son wash his hands here!

The company's website is http://www.stepnwash.com and they list a bunch of their customers online. These include children's hospitals, amusement parks and other places that are frequented by families with small children, like Costco.

This clever innovation makes me so happy!

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Kid-friendly should not stop at the bathrooms


As a completely biased mother of a potty-training toddler, I am willing to argue that it should start at the bathrooms. 

I had the opportunity to visit a big, newly constructed children's hospital recently. I love children’s hospitals, especially the more recently built. Everything is designed with kids in mind. The entrance is colorful and light-filled. The rooms have accommodations for parents, home work and play. There are novel design features like a giant Rube-Goldberg machine, a movie screen that can be seen from every inpatient room or a hallway that feels like a space-themed maze.  In this particular children’s hospital, the details were just as complete and amusing. 

During my visit, I stepped into the bathroom where I got a visual of what I look like when I visit public bathrooms with my son. A mother stood at the sink with a huge diaper bag over her shoulder and a squirming toddler under her arm. With her free hand she was attempting to apply soap and water to the child's hands while at the same time trying to keep the cuffs of his winter coat dry.  It was not going well. Toddlers and public restrooms are not a good combination. 

Upon entering a public restroom with my son, the first words out of my mouth are, "Don't touch anything."   I see germs everywhere, especially in public restrooms. Maybe it is the amount of gastroenteritis I see at work; maybe I am just a little obsessive. Either way, I impulse-buy hand sanitizer every time I see it in the check-out aisle. 

My son generally responds to my command by double palming the commode. It has been a while since I came into contact with a toilet that came up to my ribs, but I am starting to wonder if that is just the body's natural reaction when faced with a potty of such astounding height.  On a good day, the bathroom exploring ends there. On a bad day, he grabs the handrail, crawls on the floor and tries to pick up the cleaner contraption under the rim. Oh, the germs…

As we wrap up our potty trip with him under my arm, trying to wash four hands without injury or recontamination, I am frequently uncertain how much, if any, soap comes into contact with his fingers.  Hand sanitizer usually follows for good measure but it does not kill all fecal-orally transmitted organisms. 

Contrast this with our last trip to Target and a visit the family restroom.  In addition to the traditional bathroom accommodations, there was a sink and a potty that came up to my knees. They were perfect for a potty trainer. Hand washing was not a breeze (he is only two and a half) but it was significantly better.  It was the easiest public bathroom trip ever. 

I do not think every bathroom should have toddler facilities.  But if you are trying to be kid friendly, little sinks, little potties and automatic soap, water and paper towel dispensers are details that should not be overlooked.  At the very least, maybe a little step stool to assist the under four feet crowd in accessing the facilities.  This is especially true if you are, say, maybe, a children's hospital and you are trying to promote effective hand washing. Providing user-friendly equipment is key. 

Also, Target, keep up the good work. You can count on me to keep shopping.  Keep your check-out aisles stocked.  I will be picking up a bottle of hand sanitizer with every trip.