Letters from Maine

Some days it feels like more than half of the journal articles I encounter report data suggesting that poverty is associated with some disease entity. I realize that young postgraduates are under some pressure to publish, but I’m ready for a break. I and most pediatricians already know, or at least have assumed, that in general and with few exceptions unwellness and poverty are closely linked. Whether that association is causal or not is a more interesting question. The answer, I suspect, depends on which health condition we are talking about. For the moment I think we should assume that poverty is more likely a major contributor and not merely a fellow traveler of poor health.

Some other questions: What are we as pediatricians expected to do about poverty? Is awareness sufficient? Should I be content with having an elevated awareness that a certain patient has a given disease because I know his family is economically challenged? Or, conversely, should I be satisfied that I have asked about a family’s economic distress when I have just diagnosed a child with asthma? The answer to those questions is a very personal one for each of us to ponder and may depend on where we feel we can best invest our time and skill set.

Like me, you may feel that the focus of your professional life is better spent diagnosing and treating the collateral damage of poverty and addressing economic inequities in your philanthropic activities and your choices at the polls. On the other hand, you may choose to use your public persona as a physician to more actively address poverty whether it is on a local, national, or global stage. There is no correct answer and a hybrid may work best for you.

On the other hand, while you agree that there is some link between poverty and unwellness, perhaps the issue is overblown and we should pay more attention to other factors such as the sad state of the family in both disadvantaged and advantaged populations. Maybe if we worked harder to foster and support two-parent families the drag of economic disadvantage would be reduced.

I recently encountered a study that explores this very question. Christina Cross, PhD, a postdoctoral fellow in the department of sociology at Harvard University, reports on her soon-to-be-published study of a nationally representative sample in which she found that, using a selection of academic metrics including earned grades, likelihood of grade repetition, and rates of suspension, in low-income families there was no difference in achievement between Black youth raised in single-parent households and Black youth raised in two-parent households. However, in well-off families, Black youth raised in two-parent households had better academic metrics. (“Why living in a two-parent home isn’t a cure-all for Black students.” Christina Cross. The Harvard Gazette. 2021 Jun 3).

I guess few of us are surprised that living in a two-parent household can provide a child with some advantages. However, it is disappointing and again not surprising that poverty can rob a child of these advantages. While it may make us feel like we are doing something when we offer counseling that promotes two-family households, this may be no more valuable than supporting apple pie and motherhood. Dr. Cross concludes that President Biden’s proposed American Families Plan is more likely to succeed than those focused on counseling because it will offer direct financial support with its tax credits and subsidies.*

Let’s hope she is correct.

* This story was updated on July 6, 2021. 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Some days it feels like more than half of the journal articles I encounter report data suggesting that poverty is associated with some disease entity. I realize that young postgraduates are under some pressure to publish, but I’m ready for a break. I and most pediatricians already know, or at least have assumed, that in general and with few exceptions unwellness and poverty are closely linked. Whether that association is causal or not is a more interesting question. The answer, I suspect, depends on which health condition we are talking about. For the moment I think we should assume that poverty is more likely a major contributor and not merely a fellow traveler of poor health.

Some other questions: What are we as pediatricians expected to do about poverty? Is awareness sufficient? Should I be content with having an elevated awareness that a certain patient has a given disease because I know his family is economically challenged? Or, conversely, should I be satisfied that I have asked about a family’s economic distress when I have just diagnosed a child with asthma? The answer to those questions is a very personal one for each of us to ponder and may depend on where we feel we can best invest our time and skill set.

Like me, you may feel that the focus of your professional life is better spent diagnosing and treating the collateral damage of poverty and addressing economic inequities in your philanthropic activities and your choices at the polls. On the other hand, you may choose to use your public persona as a physician to more actively address poverty whether it is on a local, national, or global stage. There is no correct answer and a hybrid may work best for you.

On the other hand, while you agree that there is some link between poverty and unwellness, perhaps the issue is overblown and we should pay more attention to other factors such as the sad state of the family in both disadvantaged and advantaged populations. Maybe if we worked harder to foster and support two-parent families the drag of economic disadvantage would be reduced.

I recently encountered a study that explores this very question. Christina Cross, PhD, a postdoctoral fellow in the department of sociology at Harvard University, reports on her soon-to-be-published study of a nationally representative sample in which she found that, using a selection of academic metrics including earned grades, likelihood of grade repetition, and rates of suspension, in low-income families there was no difference in achievement between Black youth raised in single-parent households and Black youth raised in two-parent households. However, in well-off families, Black youth raised in two-parent households had better academic metrics. (“Why living in a two-parent home isn’t a cure-all for Black students.” Christina Cross. The Harvard Gazette. 2021 Jun 3).

I guess few of us are surprised that living in a two-parent household can provide a child with some advantages. However, it is disappointing and again not surprising that poverty can rob a child of these advantages. While it may make us feel like we are doing something when we offer counseling that promotes two-family households, this may be no more valuable than supporting apple pie and motherhood. Dr. Cross concludes that President Biden’s proposed American Families Plan is more likely to succeed than those focused on counseling because it will offer direct financial support with its tax credits and subsidies.*

Let’s hope she is correct.

* This story was updated on July 6, 2021. 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Some days it feels like more than half of the journal articles I encounter report data suggesting that poverty is associated with some disease entity. I realize that young postgraduates are under some pressure to publish, but I’m ready for a break. I and most pediatricians already know, or at least have assumed, that in general and with few exceptions unwellness and poverty are closely linked. Whether that association is causal or not is a more interesting question. The answer, I suspect, depends on which health condition we are talking about. For the moment I think we should assume that poverty is more likely a major contributor and not merely a fellow traveler of poor health.

Some other questions: What are we as pediatricians expected to do about poverty? Is awareness sufficient? Should I be content with having an elevated awareness that a certain patient has a given disease because I know his family is economically challenged? Or, conversely, should I be satisfied that I have asked about a family’s economic distress when I have just diagnosed a child with asthma? The answer to those questions is a very personal one for each of us to ponder and may depend on where we feel we can best invest our time and skill set.

Like me, you may feel that the focus of your professional life is better spent diagnosing and treating the collateral damage of poverty and addressing economic inequities in your philanthropic activities and your choices at the polls. On the other hand, you may choose to use your public persona as a physician to more actively address poverty whether it is on a local, national, or global stage. There is no correct answer and a hybrid may work best for you.

On the other hand, while you agree that there is some link between poverty and unwellness, perhaps the issue is overblown and we should pay more attention to other factors such as the sad state of the family in both disadvantaged and advantaged populations. Maybe if we worked harder to foster and support two-parent families the drag of economic disadvantage would be reduced.

I recently encountered a study that explores this very question. Christina Cross, PhD, a postdoctoral fellow in the department of sociology at Harvard University, reports on her soon-to-be-published study of a nationally representative sample in which she found that, using a selection of academic metrics including earned grades, likelihood of grade repetition, and rates of suspension, in low-income families there was no difference in achievement between Black youth raised in single-parent households and Black youth raised in two-parent households. However, in well-off families, Black youth raised in two-parent households had better academic metrics. (“Why living in a two-parent home isn’t a cure-all for Black students.” Christina Cross. The Harvard Gazette. 2021 Jun 3).

I guess few of us are surprised that living in a two-parent household can provide a child with some advantages. However, it is disappointing and again not surprising that poverty can rob a child of these advantages. While it may make us feel like we are doing something when we offer counseling that promotes two-family households, this may be no more valuable than supporting apple pie and motherhood. Dr. Cross concludes that President Biden’s proposed American Families Plan is more likely to succeed than those focused on counseling because it will offer direct financial support with its tax credits and subsidies.*

Let’s hope she is correct.

* This story was updated on July 6, 2021. 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Burnout is seldom the result of a single factor. It is more often a tragic case of death by a thousand cuts: a balky user-unfriendly electronic medical record system, administrative pressure to see more patients and the resulting frustration of not being able to provide the care you feel they deserve, an overemphasis on documentation or you won’t get paid, the dark cloud of malpractice always overhead, and of course the difficult balance between family responsibilities and work. It often boils down to feeling that there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done and still have time to recharge your physical and psychological batteries.

A recent report in the Harvard Business School newsletter, Working Knowledge (“Commuting Hurts Productivity and Your Best Talent Suffers Most.” Lane Lambert. 2021 Mar 30) describes an interesting study by Andy Wu, assistant professor of business administration, in which he discovered that, for every 10 kilometers of commuting distance, there was a decrease in the productivity of high-tech inventors as measured by the number of patents registered by their companies. The quality of their inventions declined even more (7%) for each additional 10 kilometers of commute.

You might question the relevance of these findings with your work in an outpatient clinic, but a conscientious physician is also an inventor and a creator. Every patient, even those with what sounds like a routine complaint, presents a novel collection of management challenges. The best physicians treat their profession as an art and must be invent solutions on the fly.

There is abundant evidence that commuting also can have a negative effect on the physical and mental health of workers. (“The astonishing human potential wasted on commutes.” The Washington Post .Christopher Ingraham. 2016 Feb 25). Watching my father walk into the house after an hour-long train ride out of the city and listening to him grumble created an image that influenced every decision I made about where my wife and I would live and work.

Did I benefit from the luxury of growing up in a small suburban community? Of course I did and I shall be forever grateful for the sacrifice my father made to allow that to happen. But, I promised myself that, while I would make sacrifices for my family, a long or unpleasant commute was not going to be on that list. For a few years I tolerated a 10- to 12-minute car commute (three stoplights) but asked to dissolve the partnership because even that 9-mile ride was too much for me and instead spent the bulk of my 40-year career a 10-minute bike ride from my office and the two hospitals. It meant we didn’t have a view of the ocean or a gentleman’s farm but we had an extra hour together as a family and I arrived at work and at home happy.

The pandemic has been a wake-up call for many of the fortunate folks who have found that they can work from home, eliminating what may have been a time-gobbling commute that was creating more stress than they may have realized. Even if telemedicine continues to maintain some postpandemic presence, I suspect that most physicians will continue to be faced with the challenge of traveling to an office or hospital.

If work is losing some of its luster and/or you are arriving home grumpy from a long day in the office, it is easy to blame an insensitive office administrator or the clunky electronic medical record system ... they deserve it. But, it may be the journey and not just the destination that is the contributing to the problem. I realize that rethinking the decision about where one lives can be painful and the options may be limited. However, I hope that at least some of you can rethink the role your journey is playing in your life.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Burnout is seldom the result of a single factor. It is more often a tragic case of death by a thousand cuts: a balky user-unfriendly electronic medical record system, administrative pressure to see more patients and the resulting frustration of not being able to provide the care you feel they deserve, an overemphasis on documentation or you won’t get paid, the dark cloud of malpractice always overhead, and of course the difficult balance between family responsibilities and work. It often boils down to feeling that there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done and still have time to recharge your physical and psychological batteries.

A recent report in the Harvard Business School newsletter, Working Knowledge (“Commuting Hurts Productivity and Your Best Talent Suffers Most.” Lane Lambert. 2021 Mar 30) describes an interesting study by Andy Wu, assistant professor of business administration, in which he discovered that, for every 10 kilometers of commuting distance, there was a decrease in the productivity of high-tech inventors as measured by the number of patents registered by their companies. The quality of their inventions declined even more (7%) for each additional 10 kilometers of commute.

You might question the relevance of these findings with your work in an outpatient clinic, but a conscientious physician is also an inventor and a creator. Every patient, even those with what sounds like a routine complaint, presents a novel collection of management challenges. The best physicians treat their profession as an art and must be invent solutions on the fly.

There is abundant evidence that commuting also can have a negative effect on the physical and mental health of workers. (“The astonishing human potential wasted on commutes.” The Washington Post .Christopher Ingraham. 2016 Feb 25). Watching my father walk into the house after an hour-long train ride out of the city and listening to him grumble created an image that influenced every decision I made about where my wife and I would live and work.

Did I benefit from the luxury of growing up in a small suburban community? Of course I did and I shall be forever grateful for the sacrifice my father made to allow that to happen. But, I promised myself that, while I would make sacrifices for my family, a long or unpleasant commute was not going to be on that list. For a few years I tolerated a 10- to 12-minute car commute (three stoplights) but asked to dissolve the partnership because even that 9-mile ride was too much for me and instead spent the bulk of my 40-year career a 10-minute bike ride from my office and the two hospitals. It meant we didn’t have a view of the ocean or a gentleman’s farm but we had an extra hour together as a family and I arrived at work and at home happy.

The pandemic has been a wake-up call for many of the fortunate folks who have found that they can work from home, eliminating what may have been a time-gobbling commute that was creating more stress than they may have realized. Even if telemedicine continues to maintain some postpandemic presence, I suspect that most physicians will continue to be faced with the challenge of traveling to an office or hospital.

If work is losing some of its luster and/or you are arriving home grumpy from a long day in the office, it is easy to blame an insensitive office administrator or the clunky electronic medical record system ... they deserve it. But, it may be the journey and not just the destination that is the contributing to the problem. I realize that rethinking the decision about where one lives can be painful and the options may be limited. However, I hope that at least some of you can rethink the role your journey is playing in your life.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Burnout is seldom the result of a single factor. It is more often a tragic case of death by a thousand cuts: a balky user-unfriendly electronic medical record system, administrative pressure to see more patients and the resulting frustration of not being able to provide the care you feel they deserve, an overemphasis on documentation or you won’t get paid, the dark cloud of malpractice always overhead, and of course the difficult balance between family responsibilities and work. It often boils down to feeling that there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done and still have time to recharge your physical and psychological batteries.

A recent report in the Harvard Business School newsletter, Working Knowledge (“Commuting Hurts Productivity and Your Best Talent Suffers Most.” Lane Lambert. 2021 Mar 30) describes an interesting study by Andy Wu, assistant professor of business administration, in which he discovered that, for every 10 kilometers of commuting distance, there was a decrease in the productivity of high-tech inventors as measured by the number of patents registered by their companies. The quality of their inventions declined even more (7%) for each additional 10 kilometers of commute.

You might question the relevance of these findings with your work in an outpatient clinic, but a conscientious physician is also an inventor and a creator. Every patient, even those with what sounds like a routine complaint, presents a novel collection of management challenges. The best physicians treat their profession as an art and must be invent solutions on the fly.

There is abundant evidence that commuting also can have a negative effect on the physical and mental health of workers. (“The astonishing human potential wasted on commutes.” The Washington Post .Christopher Ingraham. 2016 Feb 25). Watching my father walk into the house after an hour-long train ride out of the city and listening to him grumble created an image that influenced every decision I made about where my wife and I would live and work.

Did I benefit from the luxury of growing up in a small suburban community? Of course I did and I shall be forever grateful for the sacrifice my father made to allow that to happen. But, I promised myself that, while I would make sacrifices for my family, a long or unpleasant commute was not going to be on that list. For a few years I tolerated a 10- to 12-minute car commute (three stoplights) but asked to dissolve the partnership because even that 9-mile ride was too much for me and instead spent the bulk of my 40-year career a 10-minute bike ride from my office and the two hospitals. It meant we didn’t have a view of the ocean or a gentleman’s farm but we had an extra hour together as a family and I arrived at work and at home happy.

The pandemic has been a wake-up call for many of the fortunate folks who have found that they can work from home, eliminating what may have been a time-gobbling commute that was creating more stress than they may have realized. Even if telemedicine continues to maintain some postpandemic presence, I suspect that most physicians will continue to be faced with the challenge of traveling to an office or hospital.

If work is losing some of its luster and/or you are arriving home grumpy from a long day in the office, it is easy to blame an insensitive office administrator or the clunky electronic medical record system ... they deserve it. But, it may be the journey and not just the destination that is the contributing to the problem. I realize that rethinking the decision about where one lives can be painful and the options may be limited. However, I hope that at least some of you can rethink the role your journey is playing in your life.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

As the protective effect of the vaccines becomes increasingly apparent, a large number of school systems are beginning to return to prepandemic in-school learning. But anecdotal reports from around the country are making it clear that some children or their families are hesitant to return to the old norm of face to face learning (Goldstein D. “Schools Are Open, but Many Families Remain Hesitant to Return.” New York Times. 2021 May 9). The possible explanations for this hesitancy include a broad list that goes well beyond the obvious concern about the child contracting COVID-19.

I hear from my grandchildren that remote learning has for the most part been unpleasant and lacked the rigor of their in-class experiences. But, they admit that they have found that, in some situations, they prefer the environment at home because it is less distracting. They also acknowledge that, while they miss seeing their friends, at times the isolation has allowed them to be more efficient. Of course, their observations must be viewed in light of their personalities and the support provided by their parents. For these motivated teenagers, the bottom line is that they would prefer to be in school.

However, for the children who have always been a bit ambivalent about school either because they were anxious in social situations or because they found the academics too challenging, one can easily understand why they might prefer to remain in a less-intimidating home environment. For them, missing their friends may have little draw because they may not have had any friends. And, the negative feedback and bullying they have received at school is too overwhelming. A teenager for whom the pandemic has offered the out-of-school free time to explore her independence, feel more like an adult, and enjoy the benefits of having a job may be hesitant to return to the restrictions imposed by what she sees as the childishness of in-school learning.

Compounding the problem is the risk avoidance posture of some school systems and the hesitancy of some teachers to return to an environment that they continue to view as unsafe despite the evidence of the effectiveness of the vaccines and the minimal threat of in-school spread. It is going to be interesting to see how school administrators and politicians deal with this level of institutional hesitancy. Some schools may take what might be considered a hard-line approach and eliminate remote learning completely.

Regardless of how swiftly and thoughtfully schools return to in-class learning, a large number of children will eventually be faced with the stark reality of returning to a place in which they had felt painfully uncomfortable in the past. Pediatricians must be prepared to see this current wave of school hesitancy morph into a full-fledged tsunami of school refusals.

Successful management of a family whose child finds school too challenging emotionally has always required a combination of careful attention to the possible medical causes of the child’s complaints, consultation with a mental health practitioner, and thoughtful coordination with educators sensitive to the child’s school-generated distress.

It has never been easy to reassure the family of a child with frequent headaches or belly pain that his symptoms have no physical basis and then gently point out that the stress of school attendance may be a contributing factor. Some families who buy into the association may be fortunate enough to be able to offer their child home schooling as a solution to school refusal. But this strategy often requires that one parent remain home and has the temperament and the skills to teach.

Now that we have all seen that remote learning has the potential to work in a crisis, will some parents begin to demand it for their children with school refusal? Who will pay for it? I think you and I would prefer to see a solution that targeted therapeutic interventions aimed at getting the child back in school. But you and I also know those strategies don’t always work.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

As the protective effect of the vaccines becomes increasingly apparent, a large number of school systems are beginning to return to prepandemic in-school learning. But anecdotal reports from around the country are making it clear that some children or their families are hesitant to return to the old norm of face to face learning (Goldstein D. “Schools Are Open, but Many Families Remain Hesitant to Return.” New York Times. 2021 May 9). The possible explanations for this hesitancy include a broad list that goes well beyond the obvious concern about the child contracting COVID-19.

I hear from my grandchildren that remote learning has for the most part been unpleasant and lacked the rigor of their in-class experiences. But, they admit that they have found that, in some situations, they prefer the environment at home because it is less distracting. They also acknowledge that, while they miss seeing their friends, at times the isolation has allowed them to be more efficient. Of course, their observations must be viewed in light of their personalities and the support provided by their parents. For these motivated teenagers, the bottom line is that they would prefer to be in school.

However, for the children who have always been a bit ambivalent about school either because they were anxious in social situations or because they found the academics too challenging, one can easily understand why they might prefer to remain in a less-intimidating home environment. For them, missing their friends may have little draw because they may not have had any friends. And, the negative feedback and bullying they have received at school is too overwhelming. A teenager for whom the pandemic has offered the out-of-school free time to explore her independence, feel more like an adult, and enjoy the benefits of having a job may be hesitant to return to the restrictions imposed by what she sees as the childishness of in-school learning.

Compounding the problem is the risk avoidance posture of some school systems and the hesitancy of some teachers to return to an environment that they continue to view as unsafe despite the evidence of the effectiveness of the vaccines and the minimal threat of in-school spread. It is going to be interesting to see how school administrators and politicians deal with this level of institutional hesitancy. Some schools may take what might be considered a hard-line approach and eliminate remote learning completely.

Regardless of how swiftly and thoughtfully schools return to in-class learning, a large number of children will eventually be faced with the stark reality of returning to a place in which they had felt painfully uncomfortable in the past. Pediatricians must be prepared to see this current wave of school hesitancy morph into a full-fledged tsunami of school refusals.

Successful management of a family whose child finds school too challenging emotionally has always required a combination of careful attention to the possible medical causes of the child’s complaints, consultation with a mental health practitioner, and thoughtful coordination with educators sensitive to the child’s school-generated distress.

It has never been easy to reassure the family of a child with frequent headaches or belly pain that his symptoms have no physical basis and then gently point out that the stress of school attendance may be a contributing factor. Some families who buy into the association may be fortunate enough to be able to offer their child home schooling as a solution to school refusal. But this strategy often requires that one parent remain home and has the temperament and the skills to teach.

Now that we have all seen that remote learning has the potential to work in a crisis, will some parents begin to demand it for their children with school refusal? Who will pay for it? I think you and I would prefer to see a solution that targeted therapeutic interventions aimed at getting the child back in school. But you and I also know those strategies don’t always work.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

As the protective effect of the vaccines becomes increasingly apparent, a large number of school systems are beginning to return to prepandemic in-school learning. But anecdotal reports from around the country are making it clear that some children or their families are hesitant to return to the old norm of face to face learning (Goldstein D. “Schools Are Open, but Many Families Remain Hesitant to Return.” New York Times. 2021 May 9). The possible explanations for this hesitancy include a broad list that goes well beyond the obvious concern about the child contracting COVID-19.

I hear from my grandchildren that remote learning has for the most part been unpleasant and lacked the rigor of their in-class experiences. But, they admit that they have found that, in some situations, they prefer the environment at home because it is less distracting. They also acknowledge that, while they miss seeing their friends, at times the isolation has allowed them to be more efficient. Of course, their observations must be viewed in light of their personalities and the support provided by their parents. For these motivated teenagers, the bottom line is that they would prefer to be in school.

However, for the children who have always been a bit ambivalent about school either because they were anxious in social situations or because they found the academics too challenging, one can easily understand why they might prefer to remain in a less-intimidating home environment. For them, missing their friends may have little draw because they may not have had any friends. And, the negative feedback and bullying they have received at school is too overwhelming. A teenager for whom the pandemic has offered the out-of-school free time to explore her independence, feel more like an adult, and enjoy the benefits of having a job may be hesitant to return to the restrictions imposed by what she sees as the childishness of in-school learning.

Compounding the problem is the risk avoidance posture of some school systems and the hesitancy of some teachers to return to an environment that they continue to view as unsafe despite the evidence of the effectiveness of the vaccines and the minimal threat of in-school spread. It is going to be interesting to see how school administrators and politicians deal with this level of institutional hesitancy. Some schools may take what might be considered a hard-line approach and eliminate remote learning completely.

Regardless of how swiftly and thoughtfully schools return to in-class learning, a large number of children will eventually be faced with the stark reality of returning to a place in which they had felt painfully uncomfortable in the past. Pediatricians must be prepared to see this current wave of school hesitancy morph into a full-fledged tsunami of school refusals.

Successful management of a family whose child finds school too challenging emotionally has always required a combination of careful attention to the possible medical causes of the child’s complaints, consultation with a mental health practitioner, and thoughtful coordination with educators sensitive to the child’s school-generated distress.

It has never been easy to reassure the family of a child with frequent headaches or belly pain that his symptoms have no physical basis and then gently point out that the stress of school attendance may be a contributing factor. Some families who buy into the association may be fortunate enough to be able to offer their child home schooling as a solution to school refusal. But this strategy often requires that one parent remain home and has the temperament and the skills to teach.

Now that we have all seen that remote learning has the potential to work in a crisis, will some parents begin to demand it for their children with school refusal? Who will pay for it? I think you and I would prefer to see a solution that targeted therapeutic interventions aimed at getting the child back in school. But you and I also know those strategies don’t always work.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

One of the top stories in the local newspaper recently described an unfortunate incident in which a previously healthy 19-month-old baby was found unresponsive and apneic in a crib at her day-care center. She was successfully resuscitated by the daycare provider but is now blind, has seizures, and no longer walks or talks. According to the day care owner, the child had not settled down during rest time and her talking was preventing the other children from sleeping. This apparently had happened before and the day-care provider had successfully resorted to triple wrapping the child in a blanket and placing her in a crib in a separate room. The day-care provider had checked on the child once and noted she was snoring. When the child failed to wake after the expected interval of time she was found face down with her head partially covered by a pillow.

An investigation of the day-care center is ongoing and no reports or prior violations, warnings, or license suspensions have surfaced at this point. The day-care provider has been charged with aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child. The charges could carry a prison sentence of 30 years.

As I reread this very sad story I began wondering how this tragedy is going to unfold in the next months and years. We can assume one young life has already been permanently damaged. Her family will have to deal with the consequences of this event for decades or longer. What about the day-care provider? I hope we can assume that she intended no harm to the child nor had she ignored prior warnings or training about swaddling. Nor does this lapse in judgment fit a previous pattern of behavior. Regardless of what the courts decide she will carry some degree of guilt for the foreseeable future. The day-care center has been closed voluntarily and given that Maine is a small state where word travels fast it is unlikely that it will ever reopen.

Can we imagine any good coming out of this tragedy? It may be that with luck and diligent therapies that the little girl will be able to lead a life she finds rewarding and gives others some pleasure. It is possible that some individuals involved in her life – her parents or therapists – will find the devotion to her care brings new meaning to their lives.

Will the day-care provider find a new career or a cause that can help her restore some of the self worth she may have lost in the wake of the event? Or, will a protracted course through the legal system take its devastating toll on her life and marriage? It is unlikely that she will spend anywhere near 30 years in prison, if any at all. Will the child’s family sue this small family day-care center? It is hard to imagine they will recover anything more than a tiny fraction of the lifetime costs of this child’s care.

It is also unlikely that the message that swaddling children old enough to turn over carries a significant risk will go beyond one or two more stories in the local Maine newspapers. If this child’s father had been a professional football player or her mother had been an actress or U.S. Senator this tragic turn of events could possibly have stirred enough waters to grab national attention, spawn a foundation, or even result in legislation. But, she appears to come from a family with modest means without claims to notoriety. There is no flawed product to ban. She is a victim of ignorance and our failure to educate. As a result, her tragedy and those of thousands of other children will do little more than accumulate as unfortunate statistics.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

One of the top stories in the local newspaper recently described an unfortunate incident in which a previously healthy 19-month-old baby was found unresponsive and apneic in a crib at her day-care center. She was successfully resuscitated by the daycare provider but is now blind, has seizures, and no longer walks or talks. According to the day care owner, the child had not settled down during rest time and her talking was preventing the other children from sleeping. This apparently had happened before and the day-care provider had successfully resorted to triple wrapping the child in a blanket and placing her in a crib in a separate room. The day-care provider had checked on the child once and noted she was snoring. When the child failed to wake after the expected interval of time she was found face down with her head partially covered by a pillow.

An investigation of the day-care center is ongoing and no reports or prior violations, warnings, or license suspensions have surfaced at this point. The day-care provider has been charged with aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child. The charges could carry a prison sentence of 30 years.

As I reread this very sad story I began wondering how this tragedy is going to unfold in the next months and years. We can assume one young life has already been permanently damaged. Her family will have to deal with the consequences of this event for decades or longer. What about the day-care provider? I hope we can assume that she intended no harm to the child nor had she ignored prior warnings or training about swaddling. Nor does this lapse in judgment fit a previous pattern of behavior. Regardless of what the courts decide she will carry some degree of guilt for the foreseeable future. The day-care center has been closed voluntarily and given that Maine is a small state where word travels fast it is unlikely that it will ever reopen.

Can we imagine any good coming out of this tragedy? It may be that with luck and diligent therapies that the little girl will be able to lead a life she finds rewarding and gives others some pleasure. It is possible that some individuals involved in her life – her parents or therapists – will find the devotion to her care brings new meaning to their lives.

Will the day-care provider find a new career or a cause that can help her restore some of the self worth she may have lost in the wake of the event? Or, will a protracted course through the legal system take its devastating toll on her life and marriage? It is unlikely that she will spend anywhere near 30 years in prison, if any at all. Will the child’s family sue this small family day-care center? It is hard to imagine they will recover anything more than a tiny fraction of the lifetime costs of this child’s care.

It is also unlikely that the message that swaddling children old enough to turn over carries a significant risk will go beyond one or two more stories in the local Maine newspapers. If this child’s father had been a professional football player or her mother had been an actress or U.S. Senator this tragic turn of events could possibly have stirred enough waters to grab national attention, spawn a foundation, or even result in legislation. But, she appears to come from a family with modest means without claims to notoriety. There is no flawed product to ban. She is a victim of ignorance and our failure to educate. As a result, her tragedy and those of thousands of other children will do little more than accumulate as unfortunate statistics.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

One of the top stories in the local newspaper recently described an unfortunate incident in which a previously healthy 19-month-old baby was found unresponsive and apneic in a crib at her day-care center. She was successfully resuscitated by the daycare provider but is now blind, has seizures, and no longer walks or talks. According to the day care owner, the child had not settled down during rest time and her talking was preventing the other children from sleeping. This apparently had happened before and the day-care provider had successfully resorted to triple wrapping the child in a blanket and placing her in a crib in a separate room. The day-care provider had checked on the child once and noted she was snoring. When the child failed to wake after the expected interval of time she was found face down with her head partially covered by a pillow.

An investigation of the day-care center is ongoing and no reports or prior violations, warnings, or license suspensions have surfaced at this point. The day-care provider has been charged with aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child. The charges could carry a prison sentence of 30 years.

As I reread this very sad story I began wondering how this tragedy is going to unfold in the next months and years. We can assume one young life has already been permanently damaged. Her family will have to deal with the consequences of this event for decades or longer. What about the day-care provider? I hope we can assume that she intended no harm to the child nor had she ignored prior warnings or training about swaddling. Nor does this lapse in judgment fit a previous pattern of behavior. Regardless of what the courts decide she will carry some degree of guilt for the foreseeable future. The day-care center has been closed voluntarily and given that Maine is a small state where word travels fast it is unlikely that it will ever reopen.

Can we imagine any good coming out of this tragedy? It may be that with luck and diligent therapies that the little girl will be able to lead a life she finds rewarding and gives others some pleasure. It is possible that some individuals involved in her life – her parents or therapists – will find the devotion to her care brings new meaning to their lives.

Will the day-care provider find a new career or a cause that can help her restore some of the self worth she may have lost in the wake of the event? Or, will a protracted course through the legal system take its devastating toll on her life and marriage? It is unlikely that she will spend anywhere near 30 years in prison, if any at all. Will the child’s family sue this small family day-care center? It is hard to imagine they will recover anything more than a tiny fraction of the lifetime costs of this child’s care.

It is also unlikely that the message that swaddling children old enough to turn over carries a significant risk will go beyond one or two more stories in the local Maine newspapers. If this child’s father had been a professional football player or her mother had been an actress or U.S. Senator this tragic turn of events could possibly have stirred enough waters to grab national attention, spawn a foundation, or even result in legislation. But, she appears to come from a family with modest means without claims to notoriety. There is no flawed product to ban. She is a victim of ignorance and our failure to educate. As a result, her tragedy and those of thousands of other children will do little more than accumulate as unfortunate statistics.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

It’s pretty clear that, at least globally, we have not reached a steady state with the SARS-COV-2 virus. And here in the United States we should remain concerned that if we can’t convince our vaccine-hesitant population to step forward for their shots, this country may slide back into dangerous instability. Despite these uncertainties, it may be time to polish up the old retrospectoscope again and see what the last year and a half has taught us.

Although it took us too long to discover the reality, it is now pretty clear that the virus is spread in the air and by close personal contact, especially indoors. There continues to be some misplaced over-attention to surface cleaning, but for the most part, the bulk of the population seems to have finally gotten the picture. We are of course still plagued by our own impatience and the unfortunate mix of politics and the disagreement about how personal freedom and the common good can coexist.

A year ago, while we were still on the steep part of the learning curve and the specter of the unknown hung over us like a dark cloud, schools and colleges faced a myriad of challenges as they considered how to safely educate their students. Faced with a relative vacuum in leadership from the federal government, school boards and college administrators were left to interpret the trickle of information that filtered down from the media. Many turned for help to hired consultants and a variety of state and local health departments, all of whom were relying on the same information sources that were available to all of us – sources that often were neither peer reviewed nor based on hard facts. In this land that prides itself on free speech, we were all college administrators, local school board members, and parents basing our decision on the same smorgasbord of information that was frequently self-contradictory.

As I look around at the school systems and colleges with which I have some familiarity it has been interesting to observe how their responses to this hodgepodge of opinion and guesstimates have fallen into two basic categories. Some institutions seem to have been primarily motivated by risk avoidance and others appeared to have struggled to maintain their focus on how best to carry out their primary mission of educating their students.

This dichotomy is not surprising. Institutions are composed of people and people naturally self-sort themselves into pessimists and optimists. When a study is published without peer review suggesting that within schools transmission of the virus between children is unusual the optimist may use the scrap of information to support her decision to craft a hybrid system that includes an abundance of in-class experience. The pessimist will probably observe that it was only one study and instead be more concerned about the number of multi-system-inflammatory syndrome cases reported among children in New York City. He will be far less likely to abandon his all-remote learning system.

There is risk inherent in any decision-making process, including incurring a greater risk by failing to make any decision. The person whose primary focus is on avoiding any risk often shuts off the process of creative thinking and problem solving. At the end of the day, the risk avoider may have achieved his goal with a policy that includes aggressive closings but has fallen far short of his primary mission of educating students.

Here in New England there are several examples of small colleges that have managed to create more normal on-campus educational environments. To my knowledge, their experience with case numbers is no worse and may even be better than that of schools of similar size and geographic siting that chose more restrictive policies. You could argue that the less restrictive schools were just lucky. But my hunch is that the institutions that were able to put risk in perspective and remain focused on their mission were able to navigate the uncharted waters more creatively. The bottom line is that we aren’t talking about right or wrong decisions but grouped together they should provide a foundation to build on for the next turmoil.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

It’s pretty clear that, at least globally, we have not reached a steady state with the SARS-COV-2 virus. And here in the United States we should remain concerned that if we can’t convince our vaccine-hesitant population to step forward for their shots, this country may slide back into dangerous instability. Despite these uncertainties, it may be time to polish up the old retrospectoscope again and see what the last year and a half has taught us.

Although it took us too long to discover the reality, it is now pretty clear that the virus is spread in the air and by close personal contact, especially indoors. There continues to be some misplaced over-attention to surface cleaning, but for the most part, the bulk of the population seems to have finally gotten the picture. We are of course still plagued by our own impatience and the unfortunate mix of politics and the disagreement about how personal freedom and the common good can coexist.

A year ago, while we were still on the steep part of the learning curve and the specter of the unknown hung over us like a dark cloud, schools and colleges faced a myriad of challenges as they considered how to safely educate their students. Faced with a relative vacuum in leadership from the federal government, school boards and college administrators were left to interpret the trickle of information that filtered down from the media. Many turned for help to hired consultants and a variety of state and local health departments, all of whom were relying on the same information sources that were available to all of us – sources that often were neither peer reviewed nor based on hard facts. In this land that prides itself on free speech, we were all college administrators, local school board members, and parents basing our decision on the same smorgasbord of information that was frequently self-contradictory.

As I look around at the school systems and colleges with which I have some familiarity it has been interesting to observe how their responses to this hodgepodge of opinion and guesstimates have fallen into two basic categories. Some institutions seem to have been primarily motivated by risk avoidance and others appeared to have struggled to maintain their focus on how best to carry out their primary mission of educating their students.

This dichotomy is not surprising. Institutions are composed of people and people naturally self-sort themselves into pessimists and optimists. When a study is published without peer review suggesting that within schools transmission of the virus between children is unusual the optimist may use the scrap of information to support her decision to craft a hybrid system that includes an abundance of in-class experience. The pessimist will probably observe that it was only one study and instead be more concerned about the number of multi-system-inflammatory syndrome cases reported among children in New York City. He will be far less likely to abandon his all-remote learning system.

There is risk inherent in any decision-making process, including incurring a greater risk by failing to make any decision. The person whose primary focus is on avoiding any risk often shuts off the process of creative thinking and problem solving. At the end of the day, the risk avoider may have achieved his goal with a policy that includes aggressive closings but has fallen far short of his primary mission of educating students.

Here in New England there are several examples of small colleges that have managed to create more normal on-campus educational environments. To my knowledge, their experience with case numbers is no worse and may even be better than that of schools of similar size and geographic siting that chose more restrictive policies. You could argue that the less restrictive schools were just lucky. But my hunch is that the institutions that were able to put risk in perspective and remain focused on their mission were able to navigate the uncharted waters more creatively. The bottom line is that we aren’t talking about right or wrong decisions but grouped together they should provide a foundation to build on for the next turmoil.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

It’s pretty clear that, at least globally, we have not reached a steady state with the SARS-COV-2 virus. And here in the United States we should remain concerned that if we can’t convince our vaccine-hesitant population to step forward for their shots, this country may slide back into dangerous instability. Despite these uncertainties, it may be time to polish up the old retrospectoscope again and see what the last year and a half has taught us.

Although it took us too long to discover the reality, it is now pretty clear that the virus is spread in the air and by close personal contact, especially indoors. There continues to be some misplaced over-attention to surface cleaning, but for the most part, the bulk of the population seems to have finally gotten the picture. We are of course still plagued by our own impatience and the unfortunate mix of politics and the disagreement about how personal freedom and the common good can coexist.

A year ago, while we were still on the steep part of the learning curve and the specter of the unknown hung over us like a dark cloud, schools and colleges faced a myriad of challenges as they considered how to safely educate their students. Faced with a relative vacuum in leadership from the federal government, school boards and college administrators were left to interpret the trickle of information that filtered down from the media. Many turned for help to hired consultants and a variety of state and local health departments, all of whom were relying on the same information sources that were available to all of us – sources that often were neither peer reviewed nor based on hard facts. In this land that prides itself on free speech, we were all college administrators, local school board members, and parents basing our decision on the same smorgasbord of information that was frequently self-contradictory.

As I look around at the school systems and colleges with which I have some familiarity it has been interesting to observe how their responses to this hodgepodge of opinion and guesstimates have fallen into two basic categories. Some institutions seem to have been primarily motivated by risk avoidance and others appeared to have struggled to maintain their focus on how best to carry out their primary mission of educating their students.

This dichotomy is not surprising. Institutions are composed of people and people naturally self-sort themselves into pessimists and optimists. When a study is published without peer review suggesting that within schools transmission of the virus between children is unusual the optimist may use the scrap of information to support her decision to craft a hybrid system that includes an abundance of in-class experience. The pessimist will probably observe that it was only one study and instead be more concerned about the number of multi-system-inflammatory syndrome cases reported among children in New York City. He will be far less likely to abandon his all-remote learning system.

There is risk inherent in any decision-making process, including incurring a greater risk by failing to make any decision. The person whose primary focus is on avoiding any risk often shuts off the process of creative thinking and problem solving. At the end of the day, the risk avoider may have achieved his goal with a policy that includes aggressive closings but has fallen far short of his primary mission of educating students.

Here in New England there are several examples of small colleges that have managed to create more normal on-campus educational environments. To my knowledge, their experience with case numbers is no worse and may even be better than that of schools of similar size and geographic siting that chose more restrictive policies. You could argue that the less restrictive schools were just lucky. But my hunch is that the institutions that were able to put risk in perspective and remain focused on their mission were able to navigate the uncharted waters more creatively. The bottom line is that we aren’t talking about right or wrong decisions but grouped together they should provide a foundation to build on for the next turmoil.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

I suspect that very few of you chose to go into pediatrics as part of a get-rich-quick scheme. But, like me, you may have assumed that by going into medicine you would always have a job buffered from the erratic winds of the economy, an assumption that it turns out did not take into account the risk of a global pandemic.

I also bet that if you chose to subspecialize it was not because you felt you might make more money. I and most of the lay public have always naively assumed that specialists generally make more money because … well, because they spent more time training. You, on the other hand, may have discovered belatedly that becoming a pediatric subspecialist isn’t as lucrative as you thought it might be.

It turns out that, when subjected to some standard money-crunching exercises, the lifetime earning potential of most pediatric subspecialists falls significantly behind that of general pediatricians. In a paper published in the April 2021 issue of Pediatrics, investigators from the departments of neurology and pediatric neurology at Johns Hopkins University have reported that, with the exception of three hospital-based, procedure-oriented specialties (cardiology, critical care, and neonatology) the earning time lost during training is usually not recouped over the course of a subspecialist’s career. This observation may be explained in many cases by the fact that the income generated by most subspecialists is similar to and not greater than that of general pediatricians. Even when the income of a subspecialist is greater, it is generally not enough to allow for catch up for the earning power lost during training. The researchers observed this effect both in academic and nonacademic settings.

It is possible that, as the results of this study become more widely distributed, more pediatricians in training will begin to think a bit more about the bottom line when they are considering fellowship training. I suspect that drift is already underway, and if it continues, we will find more subspecialties experiencing shortages. And the importance of this lack of subspecialists on both a local and national level is not something to ignore.

The authors discuss several possible solutions. One option might be to shorten the subspecialty training period. Obviously, this would raise some concerns about quality. Another might be for the government to begin a program in which student loans were selectively forgiven based on a physician’s decision to pursue a subspecialty that is experiencing a shortage.

Another option might be to subsidize the income of some subspecialists. Although this might have a similar effect as loan forgiveness, as a physician with a longstanding pride in being a generalist I would hate to see subspecialists guaranteed a higher income merely because of the narrower mix of patients they have chosen to see. I have always felt that the challenge faced by a primary care generalist who must be prepared to deal with the breadth of complaints that present themselves at the door is at least as great and in many cases greater than that of a specialist whose patients to a large extent have been presorted.

Another solution that comes to mind is that, instead of shortening fellowship programs, one could restructure basic pediatric training programs to allow physicians who have already chosen to become subspecialists to enter a fellowship program after 2 years of house officer training. Restructuring of this magnitude would not be as simple as lopping off the last year of house officer training. It would require tailoring each physician’s shortened prefellowship learning experience to maximize his or her exposure to clinical situations that will be most relevant to the anticipated subspecialty they have chosen. A plan like this also assumes that a significant number of recent medical school graduates will be ready to make choices during their internship that will channel them into careers that will span decades.

Becoming a generalist was an easy decision for me. Any of the subspecialties I was considering would have meant I would have had to live and work in or near a high-density population. I am and always have been a small town kind of guy.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

I suspect that very few of you chose to go into pediatrics as part of a get-rich-quick scheme. But, like me, you may have assumed that by going into medicine you would always have a job buffered from the erratic winds of the economy, an assumption that it turns out did not take into account the risk of a global pandemic.

I also bet that if you chose to subspecialize it was not because you felt you might make more money. I and most of the lay public have always naively assumed that specialists generally make more money because … well, because they spent more time training. You, on the other hand, may have discovered belatedly that becoming a pediatric subspecialist isn’t as lucrative as you thought it might be.

It turns out that, when subjected to some standard money-crunching exercises, the lifetime earning potential of most pediatric subspecialists falls significantly behind that of general pediatricians. In a paper published in the April 2021 issue of Pediatrics, investigators from the departments of neurology and pediatric neurology at Johns Hopkins University have reported that, with the exception of three hospital-based, procedure-oriented specialties (cardiology, critical care, and neonatology) the earning time lost during training is usually not recouped over the course of a subspecialist’s career. This observation may be explained in many cases by the fact that the income generated by most subspecialists is similar to and not greater than that of general pediatricians. Even when the income of a subspecialist is greater, it is generally not enough to allow for catch up for the earning power lost during training. The researchers observed this effect both in academic and nonacademic settings.

It is possible that, as the results of this study become more widely distributed, more pediatricians in training will begin to think a bit more about the bottom line when they are considering fellowship training. I suspect that drift is already underway, and if it continues, we will find more subspecialties experiencing shortages. And the importance of this lack of subspecialists on both a local and national level is not something to ignore.

The authors discuss several possible solutions. One option might be to shorten the subspecialty training period. Obviously, this would raise some concerns about quality. Another might be for the government to begin a program in which student loans were selectively forgiven based on a physician’s decision to pursue a subspecialty that is experiencing a shortage.

Another option might be to subsidize the income of some subspecialists. Although this might have a similar effect as loan forgiveness, as a physician with a longstanding pride in being a generalist I would hate to see subspecialists guaranteed a higher income merely because of the narrower mix of patients they have chosen to see. I have always felt that the challenge faced by a primary care generalist who must be prepared to deal with the breadth of complaints that present themselves at the door is at least as great and in many cases greater than that of a specialist whose patients to a large extent have been presorted.

Another solution that comes to mind is that, instead of shortening fellowship programs, one could restructure basic pediatric training programs to allow physicians who have already chosen to become subspecialists to enter a fellowship program after 2 years of house officer training. Restructuring of this magnitude would not be as simple as lopping off the last year of house officer training. It would require tailoring each physician’s shortened prefellowship learning experience to maximize his or her exposure to clinical situations that will be most relevant to the anticipated subspecialty they have chosen. A plan like this also assumes that a significant number of recent medical school graduates will be ready to make choices during their internship that will channel them into careers that will span decades.

Becoming a generalist was an easy decision for me. Any of the subspecialties I was considering would have meant I would have had to live and work in or near a high-density population. I am and always have been a small town kind of guy.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

I suspect that very few of you chose to go into pediatrics as part of a get-rich-quick scheme. But, like me, you may have assumed that by going into medicine you would always have a job buffered from the erratic winds of the economy, an assumption that it turns out did not take into account the risk of a global pandemic.

I also bet that if you chose to subspecialize it was not because you felt you might make more money. I and most of the lay public have always naively assumed that specialists generally make more money because … well, because they spent more time training. You, on the other hand, may have discovered belatedly that becoming a pediatric subspecialist isn’t as lucrative as you thought it might be.

It turns out that, when subjected to some standard money-crunching exercises, the lifetime earning potential of most pediatric subspecialists falls significantly behind that of general pediatricians. In a paper published in the April 2021 issue of Pediatrics, investigators from the departments of neurology and pediatric neurology at Johns Hopkins University have reported that, with the exception of three hospital-based, procedure-oriented specialties (cardiology, critical care, and neonatology) the earning time lost during training is usually not recouped over the course of a subspecialist’s career. This observation may be explained in many cases by the fact that the income generated by most subspecialists is similar to and not greater than that of general pediatricians. Even when the income of a subspecialist is greater, it is generally not enough to allow for catch up for the earning power lost during training. The researchers observed this effect both in academic and nonacademic settings.

It is possible that, as the results of this study become more widely distributed, more pediatricians in training will begin to think a bit more about the bottom line when they are considering fellowship training. I suspect that drift is already underway, and if it continues, we will find more subspecialties experiencing shortages. And the importance of this lack of subspecialists on both a local and national level is not something to ignore.

The authors discuss several possible solutions. One option might be to shorten the subspecialty training period. Obviously, this would raise some concerns about quality. Another might be for the government to begin a program in which student loans were selectively forgiven based on a physician’s decision to pursue a subspecialty that is experiencing a shortage.

Another option might be to subsidize the income of some subspecialists. Although this might have a similar effect as loan forgiveness, as a physician with a longstanding pride in being a generalist I would hate to see subspecialists guaranteed a higher income merely because of the narrower mix of patients they have chosen to see. I have always felt that the challenge faced by a primary care generalist who must be prepared to deal with the breadth of complaints that present themselves at the door is at least as great and in many cases greater than that of a specialist whose patients to a large extent have been presorted.

Another solution that comes to mind is that, instead of shortening fellowship programs, one could restructure basic pediatric training programs to allow physicians who have already chosen to become subspecialists to enter a fellowship program after 2 years of house officer training. Restructuring of this magnitude would not be as simple as lopping off the last year of house officer training. It would require tailoring each physician’s shortened prefellowship learning experience to maximize his or her exposure to clinical situations that will be most relevant to the anticipated subspecialty they have chosen. A plan like this also assumes that a significant number of recent medical school graduates will be ready to make choices during their internship that will channel them into careers that will span decades.

Becoming a generalist was an easy decision for me. Any of the subspecialties I was considering would have meant I would have had to live and work in or near a high-density population. I am and always have been a small town kind of guy.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

There is no question that none of us, not just pediatricians, is doing a very good job of dealing with the obesity problem this nation faces. We can agree that a more active lifestyle that includes spells of vigorous activity is important for weight management. We know that in general overweight people sleep less than do those whose basal metabolic rate is normal. And, of course, we know that a diet high in calorie-dense foods is associated with unhealthy weight gain.

Not surprisingly, overweight individuals are usually struggling with all three of these challenges. They are less active, get too little sleep, and are ingesting a diet that is too calorie dense. In other words, they would benefit from a total lifestyle reboot. But you know as well as I do a change of that magnitude is much easier said than done. Few families can afford nor would they have the appetite for sending their children to a “fat camp” for 6 months with no guarantee of success.

Instead of throwing up our hands in the face of this monumental task or attacking it at close range, maybe we should aim our efforts at the risk associations that will yield the best results for our efforts. A group of researchers at the University of South Australia has just published a study in Pediatrics in which they provide some data that may help us target our interventions with obese and overweight children. The researchers did not investigate diet, but used accelerometers to determine how much time each child spent sleeping and a variety of activity levels. They then determined what effect changes in the child’s allocation of activity had on their adiposity.

The investigators found on a minute-to-minute basis that an increase in a child’s moderate-to-vigorous physical activity (MVPA) was up to six times more effective at influencing adiposity than was a decrease in sedentary time or an increase in sleep duration. For example, 17 minutes of MVPA had the same beneficial effect as 52 minutes more sleep or 56 minutes less sedentary time. Interestingly and somewhat surprisingly, the researchers found that light activity was positively associated with adiposity.

For those of us in primary care, this study from Australia suggests that our time (and the parents’ time) would be best spent figuring out how to include more MVPA in the child’s day and not focus so much on sleep duration and sedentary intervals.

However, before one can make any recommendation one must first have a clear understanding of how the child and his family spend the day. This process can be done in the office by interviewing the family. I have found that this is not as time consuming as one might think and often yields some valuable additional insight into the family’s dynamics. Sending the family home with an hourly log to be filled in or asking them to use a smartphone to record information will also work.

I must admit that at first I found the results of this study ran counter to my intuition. I have always felt that sleep is the linchpin to the solution of a variety of health style related problems. In my construct, more sleep has always been the first and easy answer and decreasing screen time the second. But, it turns out that increasing MVPA may give us the biggest bang for the buck. Which is fine with me.

The problem facing us is how we can be creative in adding that 20 minutes of vigorous activity. In most communities, we have allowed the school system to drop the ball. We can hope that this study will be confirmed or at least widely publicized. It feels like it is time to guarantee that every child gets a robust gym class every school day.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

There is no question that none of us, not just pediatricians, is doing a very good job of dealing with the obesity problem this nation faces. We can agree that a more active lifestyle that includes spells of vigorous activity is important for weight management. We know that in general overweight people sleep less than do those whose basal metabolic rate is normal. And, of course, we know that a diet high in calorie-dense foods is associated with unhealthy weight gain.

Not surprisingly, overweight individuals are usually struggling with all three of these challenges. They are less active, get too little sleep, and are ingesting a diet that is too calorie dense. In other words, they would benefit from a total lifestyle reboot. But you know as well as I do a change of that magnitude is much easier said than done. Few families can afford nor would they have the appetite for sending their children to a “fat camp” for 6 months with no guarantee of success.

Instead of throwing up our hands in the face of this monumental task or attacking it at close range, maybe we should aim our efforts at the risk associations that will yield the best results for our efforts. A group of researchers at the University of South Australia has just published a study in Pediatrics in which they provide some data that may help us target our interventions with obese and overweight children. The researchers did not investigate diet, but used accelerometers to determine how much time each child spent sleeping and a variety of activity levels. They then determined what effect changes in the child’s allocation of activity had on their adiposity.

The investigators found on a minute-to-minute basis that an increase in a child’s moderate-to-vigorous physical activity (MVPA) was up to six times more effective at influencing adiposity than was a decrease in sedentary time or an increase in sleep duration. For example, 17 minutes of MVPA had the same beneficial effect as 52 minutes more sleep or 56 minutes less sedentary time. Interestingly and somewhat surprisingly, the researchers found that light activity was positively associated with adiposity.

For those of us in primary care, this study from Australia suggests that our time (and the parents’ time) would be best spent figuring out how to include more MVPA in the child’s day and not focus so much on sleep duration and sedentary intervals.

However, before one can make any recommendation one must first have a clear understanding of how the child and his family spend the day. This process can be done in the office by interviewing the family. I have found that this is not as time consuming as one might think and often yields some valuable additional insight into the family’s dynamics. Sending the family home with an hourly log to be filled in or asking them to use a smartphone to record information will also work.

I must admit that at first I found the results of this study ran counter to my intuition. I have always felt that sleep is the linchpin to the solution of a variety of health style related problems. In my construct, more sleep has always been the first and easy answer and decreasing screen time the second. But, it turns out that increasing MVPA may give us the biggest bang for the buck. Which is fine with me.

The problem facing us is how we can be creative in adding that 20 minutes of vigorous activity. In most communities, we have allowed the school system to drop the ball. We can hope that this study will be confirmed or at least widely publicized. It feels like it is time to guarantee that every child gets a robust gym class every school day.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

There is no question that none of us, not just pediatricians, is doing a very good job of dealing with the obesity problem this nation faces. We can agree that a more active lifestyle that includes spells of vigorous activity is important for weight management. We know that in general overweight people sleep less than do those whose basal metabolic rate is normal. And, of course, we know that a diet high in calorie-dense foods is associated with unhealthy weight gain.

Not surprisingly, overweight individuals are usually struggling with all three of these challenges. They are less active, get too little sleep, and are ingesting a diet that is too calorie dense. In other words, they would benefit from a total lifestyle reboot. But you know as well as I do a change of that magnitude is much easier said than done. Few families can afford nor would they have the appetite for sending their children to a “fat camp” for 6 months with no guarantee of success.

Instead of throwing up our hands in the face of this monumental task or attacking it at close range, maybe we should aim our efforts at the risk associations that will yield the best results for our efforts. A group of researchers at the University of South Australia has just published a study in Pediatrics in which they provide some data that may help us target our interventions with obese and overweight children. The researchers did not investigate diet, but used accelerometers to determine how much time each child spent sleeping and a variety of activity levels. They then determined what effect changes in the child’s allocation of activity had on their adiposity.

The investigators found on a minute-to-minute basis that an increase in a child’s moderate-to-vigorous physical activity (MVPA) was up to six times more effective at influencing adiposity than was a decrease in sedentary time or an increase in sleep duration. For example, 17 minutes of MVPA had the same beneficial effect as 52 minutes more sleep or 56 minutes less sedentary time. Interestingly and somewhat surprisingly, the researchers found that light activity was positively associated with adiposity.

For those of us in primary care, this study from Australia suggests that our time (and the parents’ time) would be best spent figuring out how to include more MVPA in the child’s day and not focus so much on sleep duration and sedentary intervals.

However, before one can make any recommendation one must first have a clear understanding of how the child and his family spend the day. This process can be done in the office by interviewing the family. I have found that this is not as time consuming as one might think and often yields some valuable additional insight into the family’s dynamics. Sending the family home with an hourly log to be filled in or asking them to use a smartphone to record information will also work.

I must admit that at first I found the results of this study ran counter to my intuition. I have always felt that sleep is the linchpin to the solution of a variety of health style related problems. In my construct, more sleep has always been the first and easy answer and decreasing screen time the second. But, it turns out that increasing MVPA may give us the biggest bang for the buck. Which is fine with me.

The problem facing us is how we can be creative in adding that 20 minutes of vigorous activity. In most communities, we have allowed the school system to drop the ball. We can hope that this study will be confirmed or at least widely publicized. It feels like it is time to guarantee that every child gets a robust gym class every school day.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

The light at the end of the pandemic tunnel seems even brighter than it did just a month ago and in its glow it’s tempting to look back on the adjustments we have made in our lives and consider how many of those adjustments will solidify into new standards. Certainly, near the top of the changes wrought by SARS-CoV-2 is an explosive use of the Internet as a vehicle for group interaction and communication. Did you even know what Zoom was a year ago?

From remote education to international business meetings our screen time has increased dramatically. In homes across the country families have relaxed any restrictions they might have had on video exposure as they struggled to amuse and entertain children who have been shut off from their playmates. As reported in the Washington Post, the monitoring company Bark found that children sent and received 144% more Internet messages in 2020 than they had the year before..

Even families that I know who have been incredibly creative in finding physical activities, both indoor and outdoor, for their children have scaled back their restrictions on screen time. While the term “survival mode” is a bit too strong to describe this phenomenon, it was simply a matter of finding solutions given a limited supply of options.

The increase in screen time has prompted many parents to worry about its effect on their children. The American Academy of Pediatrics has already expressed concern about the cumulative effects of screen exposure on visual acuity. And it seems reasonable to expect that the obesity epidemic will accelerate as more children become more sedentary watching video screens. Whether the dire predictions of educators about lost learning will come true remains to be seen.

We can hope that this relaxation of screen time limits will be temporary. But that hope has a slim chance of becoming a reality as we have realized how powerful the Internet can be as an imperfect but effective educational tool. We have seen that apps such as Zoom, GoToMeeting, and FaceTime can allow families to connect on holidays when to face-to-face meetings are impractical. How should parents, and those of us who advise them, begin to restructure sensible and enforceable guidelines for screen time given the sea change we have just experienced?

There will certainly be significant resistance on the part of children to unlearn screen habits developed during the darkest hours of the pandemic: Texting a friend whom you will now be able to see in school, playing a video game instead of biking around the neighborhood with on a sunny afternoon, or, binging on sitcoms in the evening with your parents when they knew you didn’t have to get up early to catch the school bus.

It could be a herculean task to nudge the screen time pendulum back toward the prepandemic “norm.” In the past we haven’t done a very good job of promoting a healthy screen time diet for children. When the only screen in town was television the American Academy of Pediatrics’ focus was more on content than quantity. Quality is often difficult to assess and parents, like most everyone, seem more comfortable with guidelines that include a time metric – even if they don’t seem to be very good at enforcing it.

Maybe screen time is too big a boulder to roll up the hill. The good news is that during the pandemic, activity – particularly outdoor activity – has increased dramatically. Bicycles went off the shelves like toilet paper. National and state parks have been overflowing with families. While we must not ignore the downside of excess screen time, we should put more effort into promoting the healthy alternative of outdoor recreation. Let’s not allow a positive trend slip into becoming a short-lived fad.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

The light at the end of the pandemic tunnel seems even brighter than it did just a month ago and in its glow it’s tempting to look back on the adjustments we have made in our lives and consider how many of those adjustments will solidify into new standards. Certainly, near the top of the changes wrought by SARS-CoV-2 is an explosive use of the Internet as a vehicle for group interaction and communication. Did you even know what Zoom was a year ago?

From remote education to international business meetings our screen time has increased dramatically. In homes across the country families have relaxed any restrictions they might have had on video exposure as they struggled to amuse and entertain children who have been shut off from their playmates. As reported in the Washington Post, the monitoring company Bark found that children sent and received 144% more Internet messages in 2020 than they had the year before..

Even families that I know who have been incredibly creative in finding physical activities, both indoor and outdoor, for their children have scaled back their restrictions on screen time. While the term “survival mode” is a bit too strong to describe this phenomenon, it was simply a matter of finding solutions given a limited supply of options.

The increase in screen time has prompted many parents to worry about its effect on their children. The American Academy of Pediatrics has already expressed concern about the cumulative effects of screen exposure on visual acuity. And it seems reasonable to expect that the obesity epidemic will accelerate as more children become more sedentary watching video screens. Whether the dire predictions of educators about lost learning will come true remains to be seen.

We can hope that this relaxation of screen time limits will be temporary. But that hope has a slim chance of becoming a reality as we have realized how powerful the Internet can be as an imperfect but effective educational tool. We have seen that apps such as Zoom, GoToMeeting, and FaceTime can allow families to connect on holidays when to face-to-face meetings are impractical. How should parents, and those of us who advise them, begin to restructure sensible and enforceable guidelines for screen time given the sea change we have just experienced?

There will certainly be significant resistance on the part of children to unlearn screen habits developed during the darkest hours of the pandemic: Texting a friend whom you will now be able to see in school, playing a video game instead of biking around the neighborhood with on a sunny afternoon, or, binging on sitcoms in the evening with your parents when they knew you didn’t have to get up early to catch the school bus.

It could be a herculean task to nudge the screen time pendulum back toward the prepandemic “norm.” In the past we haven’t done a very good job of promoting a healthy screen time diet for children. When the only screen in town was television the American Academy of Pediatrics’ focus was more on content than quantity. Quality is often difficult to assess and parents, like most everyone, seem more comfortable with guidelines that include a time metric – even if they don’t seem to be very good at enforcing it.

Maybe screen time is too big a boulder to roll up the hill. The good news is that during the pandemic, activity – particularly outdoor activity – has increased dramatically. Bicycles went off the shelves like toilet paper. National and state parks have been overflowing with families. While we must not ignore the downside of excess screen time, we should put more effort into promoting the healthy alternative of outdoor recreation. Let’s not allow a positive trend slip into becoming a short-lived fad.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

The light at the end of the pandemic tunnel seems even brighter than it did just a month ago and in its glow it’s tempting to look back on the adjustments we have made in our lives and consider how many of those adjustments will solidify into new standards. Certainly, near the top of the changes wrought by SARS-CoV-2 is an explosive use of the Internet as a vehicle for group interaction and communication. Did you even know what Zoom was a year ago?

From remote education to international business meetings our screen time has increased dramatically. In homes across the country families have relaxed any restrictions they might have had on video exposure as they struggled to amuse and entertain children who have been shut off from their playmates. As reported in the Washington Post, the monitoring company Bark found that children sent and received 144% more Internet messages in 2020 than they had the year before..

Even families that I know who have been incredibly creative in finding physical activities, both indoor and outdoor, for their children have scaled back their restrictions on screen time. While the term “survival mode” is a bit too strong to describe this phenomenon, it was simply a matter of finding solutions given a limited supply of options.

The increase in screen time has prompted many parents to worry about its effect on their children. The American Academy of Pediatrics has already expressed concern about the cumulative effects of screen exposure on visual acuity. And it seems reasonable to expect that the obesity epidemic will accelerate as more children become more sedentary watching video screens. Whether the dire predictions of educators about lost learning will come true remains to be seen.

We can hope that this relaxation of screen time limits will be temporary. But that hope has a slim chance of becoming a reality as we have realized how powerful the Internet can be as an imperfect but effective educational tool. We have seen that apps such as Zoom, GoToMeeting, and FaceTime can allow families to connect on holidays when to face-to-face meetings are impractical. How should parents, and those of us who advise them, begin to restructure sensible and enforceable guidelines for screen time given the sea change we have just experienced?

There will certainly be significant resistance on the part of children to unlearn screen habits developed during the darkest hours of the pandemic: Texting a friend whom you will now be able to see in school, playing a video game instead of biking around the neighborhood with on a sunny afternoon, or, binging on sitcoms in the evening with your parents when they knew you didn’t have to get up early to catch the school bus.

It could be a herculean task to nudge the screen time pendulum back toward the prepandemic “norm.” In the past we haven’t done a very good job of promoting a healthy screen time diet for children. When the only screen in town was television the American Academy of Pediatrics’ focus was more on content than quantity. Quality is often difficult to assess and parents, like most everyone, seem more comfortable with guidelines that include a time metric – even if they don’t seem to be very good at enforcing it.

Maybe screen time is too big a boulder to roll up the hill. The good news is that during the pandemic, activity – particularly outdoor activity – has increased dramatically. Bicycles went off the shelves like toilet paper. National and state parks have been overflowing with families. While we must not ignore the downside of excess screen time, we should put more effort into promoting the healthy alternative of outdoor recreation. Let’s not allow a positive trend slip into becoming a short-lived fad.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Are you a napper? Unless you’re retired that may sound like a ridiculous question. When could you possibly fit in the time to doze off for even 20 minutes? I suspect there may be one or two of you who, although you are still working, have found a way to schedule a nap into your schedules. The rest of us must wait until we no longer have clinical responsibilities.

In my experience, you regular nappers seem to be the lucky few who have discovered the art of nodding off after lunch and waking up refreshed and ready to take on a full afternoon of patients. We in the unlucky majority may have tried taking a nap but run the risk of its flowing into a deep slumber the length of which we can’t control. Or, more likely, we find that we wake feeling groggy and disoriented and, even worse, the daytime nod off has messed up our nighttime schedule.

Well, it turns out the ability to take daytime naps and reap their cardiometabolic benefits is not just luck but has a significant genetic component. Investigators at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston have recently published a study in which they report finding more than a score of gene regions that determine a person’s propensity to take daytime naps.. The researchers have also unearthed preliminary evidence supporting a link between daytime napping and cardiometabolic health. My mother began napping when my sister and I were infants and never gave it up. Unfortunately, I seem to have ended up on the wrong side of the genomic shuffle.

Although this new research is interesting, I don’t think the investigators have enough information to answer one of the questions that every pediatrician fields multiple times each week. “When should my toddler grow out of his afternoon nap?” Although it looks like we may be getting closer to a gene-based answer, I have always couched my reply in terms of behavior modification and the fostering of habit-forming associations.

As a child begins to transition from multiple short naps interspersed with feedings to a pattern of two distinct naps, I suggest to parents that they begin to think of the afternoon nap as a siesta. In other words, the nap is something that always comes immediately after lunch with no intervening shenanigans. No playtime, no Teletubbies videos, no quick trips to the grocery store, nothing, nada, zip.

At least for me, lunch has always been soporific. And I suspect we will learn eventually that association cuts across the entire genetic landscape to one degree or another. It makes sense to take advantage of that association and remove all other distractions. For some parents, that means creating the illusion that they too are taking a siesta: No TV, no phone calls. Imagine that the whole household has suddenly moved to Spain for the next hour or two. If you’ve ever been a tourist in rural Spain and tried to do anything, buy anything, or visit a museum between 2 and 4 p.m. you’ve got the idea.

When the child is young he or she will probably fall asleep as long as his parents have been reasonably successful at maintaining sleep hygiene practices. As the child is gaining more stamina and gives up the morning nap, the siesta will remain as a quiet time because that’s the way it’s always been in the household. The child may sleep or play quietly, or be read a sleep-inducing story because no other options will be available until some predetermined time. An hour is usually reasonable. If sleep hasn’t overtaken them, an earlier bedtime will probably be in order. The child will outgrow the napping part of the siesta when his or her sleep need is gone. But, the siesta/quiet time can remain as an option until all-day school intervenes. This scheme works if you can get parents to appropriately prioritize their child’s sleep needs. That’s not always an easy sell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Are you a napper? Unless you’re retired that may sound like a ridiculous question. When could you possibly fit in the time to doze off for even 20 minutes? I suspect there may be one or two of you who, although you are still working, have found a way to schedule a nap into your schedules. The rest of us must wait until we no longer have clinical responsibilities.

In my experience, you regular nappers seem to be the lucky few who have discovered the art of nodding off after lunch and waking up refreshed and ready to take on a full afternoon of patients. We in the unlucky majority may have tried taking a nap but run the risk of its flowing into a deep slumber the length of which we can’t control. Or, more likely, we find that we wake feeling groggy and disoriented and, even worse, the daytime nod off has messed up our nighttime schedule.

Well, it turns out the ability to take daytime naps and reap their cardiometabolic benefits is not just luck but has a significant genetic component. Investigators at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston have recently published a study in which they report finding more than a score of gene regions that determine a person’s propensity to take daytime naps.. The researchers have also unearthed preliminary evidence supporting a link between daytime napping and cardiometabolic health. My mother began napping when my sister and I were infants and never gave it up. Unfortunately, I seem to have ended up on the wrong side of the genomic shuffle.

Although this new research is interesting, I don’t think the investigators have enough information to answer one of the questions that every pediatrician fields multiple times each week. “When should my toddler grow out of his afternoon nap?” Although it looks like we may be getting closer to a gene-based answer, I have always couched my reply in terms of behavior modification and the fostering of habit-forming associations.

As a child begins to transition from multiple short naps interspersed with feedings to a pattern of two distinct naps, I suggest to parents that they begin to think of the afternoon nap as a siesta. In other words, the nap is something that always comes immediately after lunch with no intervening shenanigans. No playtime, no Teletubbies videos, no quick trips to the grocery store, nothing, nada, zip.

At least for me, lunch has always been soporific. And I suspect we will learn eventually that association cuts across the entire genetic landscape to one degree or another. It makes sense to take advantage of that association and remove all other distractions. For some parents, that means creating the illusion that they too are taking a siesta: No TV, no phone calls. Imagine that the whole household has suddenly moved to Spain for the next hour or two. If you’ve ever been a tourist in rural Spain and tried to do anything, buy anything, or visit a museum between 2 and 4 p.m. you’ve got the idea.

When the child is young he or she will probably fall asleep as long as his parents have been reasonably successful at maintaining sleep hygiene practices. As the child is gaining more stamina and gives up the morning nap, the siesta will remain as a quiet time because that’s the way it’s always been in the household. The child may sleep or play quietly, or be read a sleep-inducing story because no other options will be available until some predetermined time. An hour is usually reasonable. If sleep hasn’t overtaken them, an earlier bedtime will probably be in order. The child will outgrow the napping part of the siesta when his or her sleep need is gone. But, the siesta/quiet time can remain as an option until all-day school intervenes. This scheme works if you can get parents to appropriately prioritize their child’s sleep needs. That’s not always an easy sell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Are you a napper? Unless you’re retired that may sound like a ridiculous question. When could you possibly fit in the time to doze off for even 20 minutes? I suspect there may be one or two of you who, although you are still working, have found a way to schedule a nap into your schedules. The rest of us must wait until we no longer have clinical responsibilities.

In my experience, you regular nappers seem to be the lucky few who have discovered the art of nodding off after lunch and waking up refreshed and ready to take on a full afternoon of patients. We in the unlucky majority may have tried taking a nap but run the risk of its flowing into a deep slumber the length of which we can’t control. Or, more likely, we find that we wake feeling groggy and disoriented and, even worse, the daytime nod off has messed up our nighttime schedule.

Well, it turns out the ability to take daytime naps and reap their cardiometabolic benefits is not just luck but has a significant genetic component. Investigators at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston have recently published a study in which they report finding more than a score of gene regions that determine a person’s propensity to take daytime naps.. The researchers have also unearthed preliminary evidence supporting a link between daytime napping and cardiometabolic health. My mother began napping when my sister and I were infants and never gave it up. Unfortunately, I seem to have ended up on the wrong side of the genomic shuffle.

Although this new research is interesting, I don’t think the investigators have enough information to answer one of the questions that every pediatrician fields multiple times each week. “When should my toddler grow out of his afternoon nap?” Although it looks like we may be getting closer to a gene-based answer, I have always couched my reply in terms of behavior modification and the fostering of habit-forming associations.

As a child begins to transition from multiple short naps interspersed with feedings to a pattern of two distinct naps, I suggest to parents that they begin to think of the afternoon nap as a siesta. In other words, the nap is something that always comes immediately after lunch with no intervening shenanigans. No playtime, no Teletubbies videos, no quick trips to the grocery store, nothing, nada, zip.

At least for me, lunch has always been soporific. And I suspect we will learn eventually that association cuts across the entire genetic landscape to one degree or another. It makes sense to take advantage of that association and remove all other distractions. For some parents, that means creating the illusion that they too are taking a siesta: No TV, no phone calls. Imagine that the whole household has suddenly moved to Spain for the next hour or two. If you’ve ever been a tourist in rural Spain and tried to do anything, buy anything, or visit a museum between 2 and 4 p.m. you’ve got the idea.

When the child is young he or she will probably fall asleep as long as his parents have been reasonably successful at maintaining sleep hygiene practices. As the child is gaining more stamina and gives up the morning nap, the siesta will remain as a quiet time because that’s the way it’s always been in the household. The child may sleep or play quietly, or be read a sleep-inducing story because no other options will be available until some predetermined time. An hour is usually reasonable. If sleep hasn’t overtaken them, an earlier bedtime will probably be in order. The child will outgrow the napping part of the siesta when his or her sleep need is gone. But, the siesta/quiet time can remain as an option until all-day school intervenes. This scheme works if you can get parents to appropriately prioritize their child’s sleep needs. That’s not always an easy sell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

After 15 years of limping and a gradual downhill slide in mobility, recreational walking had become uncomfortable enough that I’ve decided to shed my proudly worn cloak of denial and seek help. Even I could see that the x-ray made a total knee replacement the only option for some return to near normalcy. Scheduling a total knee replacement became a no-brainer.

My decision to accept the risks to reap the benefits of surgery is small potatoes compared with the decisions that the parents of a child born with a deformed lower extremity must face. In the Family Partnerships section of the February 2021 issue of Pediatrics you will find a heart-wrenching story of a family who embarked on what turned out to be painful and frustrating journey to lengthen their daughter’s congenitally deficient leg. In their own words, the mother and daughter describe how neither of them were prepared for the pain and life-altering complications the daughter has endured. Influenced by the optimism exuded by surgeons, the family gave little thought to the magnitude of the decision they were being asked to make. One has to wonder in retrospect if a well-timed amputation and prosthesis might have been a better decision. However, the thought of removing an extremity, even one that isn’t fully functional, is not one that most of us like to consider.

Over the last several decades I have read stories about people – usually athletes – born with short or deformed lower extremities who have faced the decision of amputation. I recall one college-age young man who despite his deformity and with the help of a prosthesis was a competitive multisport athlete. However, it became clear that his deformed foot was preventing him from accessing the most advanced prosthetic technology. Although he was highly motivated, he described his struggle with the decision to part with a portion of his body that despite its appearance and dysfunction had been with him since birth. On the other hand, I have read stories of young people who had become so frustrated by their deformity that they were more than eager to undergo amputation despite the concerns of their parents.

Early in my career I encountered a 3-year-old with phocomelia whose family was visiting from out of town and had come to our clinic because his older sibling was sick. The youngster, as I recall, had only one complete extremity, an arm. Like most 3-year-olds, he was driven to explore at breakneck speed. I will never forget watching him streak back and forth the length of our linoleum covered hallway like a crab skittering along the beach. His mother described how she and his well-meaning physicians were struggling unsuccessfully to get him to accept prostheses. Later I learned that his resistance is shared by many of the survivors of the thalidomide disaster who felt that the most frustrating period in their lives came when, again well-meaning, caregivers had tried to make them look and function more normally by fitting them with prostheses.

These anecdotal observations make clear a philosophy that we should have already internalized. In most clinic decisions the patient, pretty much regardless of age, should be a full participant in the process. And, to do this the patient and his or her family must be as informed as possible. Managing the aftermath of a traumatic amputation presents it own special set of challenges, but when it comes to elective amputation or prosthetic application for a congenital deficiency it is dangerous for us to insert our personal bias into the decision making.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

After 15 years of limping and a gradual downhill slide in mobility, recreational walking had become uncomfortable enough that I’ve decided to shed my proudly worn cloak of denial and seek help. Even I could see that the x-ray made a total knee replacement the only option for some return to near normalcy. Scheduling a total knee replacement became a no-brainer.

My decision to accept the risks to reap the benefits of surgery is small potatoes compared with the decisions that the parents of a child born with a deformed lower extremity must face. In the Family Partnerships section of the February 2021 issue of Pediatrics you will find a heart-wrenching story of a family who embarked on what turned out to be painful and frustrating journey to lengthen their daughter’s congenitally deficient leg. In their own words, the mother and daughter describe how neither of them were prepared for the pain and life-altering complications the daughter has endured. Influenced by the optimism exuded by surgeons, the family gave little thought to the magnitude of the decision they were being asked to make. One has to wonder in retrospect if a well-timed amputation and prosthesis might have been a better decision. However, the thought of removing an extremity, even one that isn’t fully functional, is not one that most of us like to consider.

Over the last several decades I have read stories about people – usually athletes – born with short or deformed lower extremities who have faced the decision of amputation. I recall one college-age young man who despite his deformity and with the help of a prosthesis was a competitive multisport athlete. However, it became clear that his deformed foot was preventing him from accessing the most advanced prosthetic technology. Although he was highly motivated, he described his struggle with the decision to part with a portion of his body that despite its appearance and dysfunction had been with him since birth. On the other hand, I have read stories of young people who had become so frustrated by their deformity that they were more than eager to undergo amputation despite the concerns of their parents.

Early in my career I encountered a 3-year-old with phocomelia whose family was visiting from out of town and had come to our clinic because his older sibling was sick. The youngster, as I recall, had only one complete extremity, an arm. Like most 3-year-olds, he was driven to explore at breakneck speed. I will never forget watching him streak back and forth the length of our linoleum covered hallway like a crab skittering along the beach. His mother described how she and his well-meaning physicians were struggling unsuccessfully to get him to accept prostheses. Later I learned that his resistance is shared by many of the survivors of the thalidomide disaster who felt that the most frustrating period in their lives came when, again well-meaning, caregivers had tried to make them look and function more normally by fitting them with prostheses.

These anecdotal observations make clear a philosophy that we should have already internalized. In most clinic decisions the patient, pretty much regardless of age, should be a full participant in the process. And, to do this the patient and his or her family must be as informed as possible. Managing the aftermath of a traumatic amputation presents it own special set of challenges, but when it comes to elective amputation or prosthetic application for a congenital deficiency it is dangerous for us to insert our personal bias into the decision making.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

After 15 years of limping and a gradual downhill slide in mobility, recreational walking had become uncomfortable enough that I’ve decided to shed my proudly worn cloak of denial and seek help. Even I could see that the x-ray made a total knee replacement the only option for some return to near normalcy. Scheduling a total knee replacement became a no-brainer.

My decision to accept the risks to reap the benefits of surgery is small potatoes compared with the decisions that the parents of a child born with a deformed lower extremity must face. In the Family Partnerships section of the February 2021 issue of Pediatrics you will find a heart-wrenching story of a family who embarked on what turned out to be painful and frustrating journey to lengthen their daughter’s congenitally deficient leg. In their own words, the mother and daughter describe how neither of them were prepared for the pain and life-altering complications the daughter has endured. Influenced by the optimism exuded by surgeons, the family gave little thought to the magnitude of the decision they were being asked to make. One has to wonder in retrospect if a well-timed amputation and prosthesis might have been a better decision. However, the thought of removing an extremity, even one that isn’t fully functional, is not one that most of us like to consider.

Over the last several decades I have read stories about people – usually athletes – born with short or deformed lower extremities who have faced the decision of amputation. I recall one college-age young man who despite his deformity and with the help of a prosthesis was a competitive multisport athlete. However, it became clear that his deformed foot was preventing him from accessing the most advanced prosthetic technology. Although he was highly motivated, he described his struggle with the decision to part with a portion of his body that despite its appearance and dysfunction had been with him since birth. On the other hand, I have read stories of young people who had become so frustrated by their deformity that they were more than eager to undergo amputation despite the concerns of their parents.

Early in my career I encountered a 3-year-old with phocomelia whose family was visiting from out of town and had come to our clinic because his older sibling was sick. The youngster, as I recall, had only one complete extremity, an arm. Like most 3-year-olds, he was driven to explore at breakneck speed. I will never forget watching him streak back and forth the length of our linoleum covered hallway like a crab skittering along the beach. His mother described how she and his well-meaning physicians were struggling unsuccessfully to get him to accept prostheses. Later I learned that his resistance is shared by many of the survivors of the thalidomide disaster who felt that the most frustrating period in their lives came when, again well-meaning, caregivers had tried to make them look and function more normally by fitting them with prostheses.

These anecdotal observations make clear a philosophy that we should have already internalized. In most clinic decisions the patient, pretty much regardless of age, should be a full participant in the process. And, to do this the patient and his or her family must be as informed as possible. Managing the aftermath of a traumatic amputation presents it own special set of challenges, but when it comes to elective amputation or prosthetic application for a congenital deficiency it is dangerous for us to insert our personal bias into the decision making.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.