User login
I’m sometimes asked what was different about practicing pediatrics when I was at the apex of my clinical career. Colored by the recent memory of several painful adjustments to unworkable and time-gobbling electronic medical record systems, I usually answer, “It was more fun before the damn computer landed in my exam room.” However, an op-ed piece in the New York Times has prompted me to reconsider how the practice of medicine has changed over the last 50 years (“An Era Defined by Fear,” by David Brooks, April 29, 2019).
Mr. Brooks claims that the era in which we are living is defined by fear. He argues that beginning with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, fear has crept into every corner or our lives, influencing how we relate to one another and govern ourselves. Fueled by a media that feeds us “breaking news” at every hour of the day, we have become a country of people who see everything through the “dark filter” of fear.
I can recall monthly air raid drills during which my third-grade classmates and I scurried under our desks for what seemed hours. And I know my parents were concerned as polio swept through my hometown and the surrounding communities. But I don’t recall feeling the same omnipresent fear that I began to see over the last decade and a half of my practice.
Bombs never landed in Pleasantville, New York, and we knew our school was safe. Third graders today have been told that other third graders have been shot and killed in schools they thought were safe. I knew that there was a risk I might get my “bell rung” playing football. But neither my parents nor I worried that repeated concussions might hasten dementia. My parents and I knew that the weather was unpredictable, but we weren’t bombarded with warnings that the ocean might engulf our home or that the planet was dying.
I suspect my parents worried how I would find my way in the world, but not with the level of anxiety that I feel in parents today who are obsessed with their own fear of failure. And as David Brooks observes, “fear generates fear.” A fearful parent is likely to raise a fearful child. It’s not surprising that today’s pediatricians feel that their appointment lists are filled to the bursting point with patients who have mental health complaints, with anxiety and depression high on the list of diagnoses.
Foremost among our fears is the threat of malpractice litigation. We are coached in risk management strategies, and although we may not admit it, many of us are practicing defensive medicine, a scourge that appeared only infrequently in my first 2 decades of practice. While rumors always could tarnish a physician’s reputation in a small town, the damage done by Internet trolls wielding the power of social media can be several orders of magnitude more devastating.
Not surprisingly, physicians like to practice in comfortable surroundings, which of course draw other physicians, and in short order physicians can find themselves facing the fear of competition. Before insurance companies controlled the landscape, physicians didn’t have to worry about maintaining a stable panel of patients. Now a physician must worry that he or she may be delisted on the whim of a committee of number crunchers. Although I always was concerned on keeping current, my accreditation was grandfathered, and I didn’t have to worry about maintenance of certification (MOC) exams and deadlines. And of course I completed my education with what I considered at the time a whopping $3,200 of debt, but at an interest rate so low that we could make more money in CDs (certificates of deposit).
I wish I could end with something of more substance than Franklin Roosevelt’s advice that the only thing to fear is fear itself. But I’m afraid I can’t.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
I’m sometimes asked what was different about practicing pediatrics when I was at the apex of my clinical career. Colored by the recent memory of several painful adjustments to unworkable and time-gobbling electronic medical record systems, I usually answer, “It was more fun before the damn computer landed in my exam room.” However, an op-ed piece in the New York Times has prompted me to reconsider how the practice of medicine has changed over the last 50 years (“An Era Defined by Fear,” by David Brooks, April 29, 2019).
Mr. Brooks claims that the era in which we are living is defined by fear. He argues that beginning with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, fear has crept into every corner or our lives, influencing how we relate to one another and govern ourselves. Fueled by a media that feeds us “breaking news” at every hour of the day, we have become a country of people who see everything through the “dark filter” of fear.
I can recall monthly air raid drills during which my third-grade classmates and I scurried under our desks for what seemed hours. And I know my parents were concerned as polio swept through my hometown and the surrounding communities. But I don’t recall feeling the same omnipresent fear that I began to see over the last decade and a half of my practice.
Bombs never landed in Pleasantville, New York, and we knew our school was safe. Third graders today have been told that other third graders have been shot and killed in schools they thought were safe. I knew that there was a risk I might get my “bell rung” playing football. But neither my parents nor I worried that repeated concussions might hasten dementia. My parents and I knew that the weather was unpredictable, but we weren’t bombarded with warnings that the ocean might engulf our home or that the planet was dying.
I suspect my parents worried how I would find my way in the world, but not with the level of anxiety that I feel in parents today who are obsessed with their own fear of failure. And as David Brooks observes, “fear generates fear.” A fearful parent is likely to raise a fearful child. It’s not surprising that today’s pediatricians feel that their appointment lists are filled to the bursting point with patients who have mental health complaints, with anxiety and depression high on the list of diagnoses.
Foremost among our fears is the threat of malpractice litigation. We are coached in risk management strategies, and although we may not admit it, many of us are practicing defensive medicine, a scourge that appeared only infrequently in my first 2 decades of practice. While rumors always could tarnish a physician’s reputation in a small town, the damage done by Internet trolls wielding the power of social media can be several orders of magnitude more devastating.
Not surprisingly, physicians like to practice in comfortable surroundings, which of course draw other physicians, and in short order physicians can find themselves facing the fear of competition. Before insurance companies controlled the landscape, physicians didn’t have to worry about maintaining a stable panel of patients. Now a physician must worry that he or she may be delisted on the whim of a committee of number crunchers. Although I always was concerned on keeping current, my accreditation was grandfathered, and I didn’t have to worry about maintenance of certification (MOC) exams and deadlines. And of course I completed my education with what I considered at the time a whopping $3,200 of debt, but at an interest rate so low that we could make more money in CDs (certificates of deposit).
I wish I could end with something of more substance than Franklin Roosevelt’s advice that the only thing to fear is fear itself. But I’m afraid I can’t.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
I’m sometimes asked what was different about practicing pediatrics when I was at the apex of my clinical career. Colored by the recent memory of several painful adjustments to unworkable and time-gobbling electronic medical record systems, I usually answer, “It was more fun before the damn computer landed in my exam room.” However, an op-ed piece in the New York Times has prompted me to reconsider how the practice of medicine has changed over the last 50 years (“An Era Defined by Fear,” by David Brooks, April 29, 2019).
Mr. Brooks claims that the era in which we are living is defined by fear. He argues that beginning with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, fear has crept into every corner or our lives, influencing how we relate to one another and govern ourselves. Fueled by a media that feeds us “breaking news” at every hour of the day, we have become a country of people who see everything through the “dark filter” of fear.
I can recall monthly air raid drills during which my third-grade classmates and I scurried under our desks for what seemed hours. And I know my parents were concerned as polio swept through my hometown and the surrounding communities. But I don’t recall feeling the same omnipresent fear that I began to see over the last decade and a half of my practice.
Bombs never landed in Pleasantville, New York, and we knew our school was safe. Third graders today have been told that other third graders have been shot and killed in schools they thought were safe. I knew that there was a risk I might get my “bell rung” playing football. But neither my parents nor I worried that repeated concussions might hasten dementia. My parents and I knew that the weather was unpredictable, but we weren’t bombarded with warnings that the ocean might engulf our home or that the planet was dying.
I suspect my parents worried how I would find my way in the world, but not with the level of anxiety that I feel in parents today who are obsessed with their own fear of failure. And as David Brooks observes, “fear generates fear.” A fearful parent is likely to raise a fearful child. It’s not surprising that today’s pediatricians feel that their appointment lists are filled to the bursting point with patients who have mental health complaints, with anxiety and depression high on the list of diagnoses.
Foremost among our fears is the threat of malpractice litigation. We are coached in risk management strategies, and although we may not admit it, many of us are practicing defensive medicine, a scourge that appeared only infrequently in my first 2 decades of practice. While rumors always could tarnish a physician’s reputation in a small town, the damage done by Internet trolls wielding the power of social media can be several orders of magnitude more devastating.
Not surprisingly, physicians like to practice in comfortable surroundings, which of course draw other physicians, and in short order physicians can find themselves facing the fear of competition. Before insurance companies controlled the landscape, physicians didn’t have to worry about maintaining a stable panel of patients. Now a physician must worry that he or she may be delisted on the whim of a committee of number crunchers. Although I always was concerned on keeping current, my accreditation was grandfathered, and I didn’t have to worry about maintenance of certification (MOC) exams and deadlines. And of course I completed my education with what I considered at the time a whopping $3,200 of debt, but at an interest rate so low that we could make more money in CDs (certificates of deposit).
I wish I could end with something of more substance than Franklin Roosevelt’s advice that the only thing to fear is fear itself. But I’m afraid I can’t.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.