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The Art of Seeing
People are surprised when they learn I was an art history major in college. Most folks assume I had majored in biology or chemistry. Their assumption was based on strong odds. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that nearly half of all physicians practicing in this country were biology majors.
I headed off to college clueless about my future. I was hoping to succeed as a walk-on to the football team and beyond that I figured someone or something would guide me toward a career. Had you asked me, “physician” it would have been a definite “Never.”
I flirted with a psychology major, but after a semester I realized that the department was more interested in the behavior of rats rather than humans. I got an “easy A” in the intro to art history and that was the open door I was looking for.
By my senior year I was applying for fellowships to study in faraway places. However, the world situation in 1965 was unsettling for a young man in this country. I had had a strong high school science education and had continued to take a some science courses. Fortunately, I had banked just enough credits so that I could apply to medical school, again without really planning to become a physician.
Even during the sharpest turns in my circuitous path to becoming a small town pediatrician, including a year doing research in exercise physiology in Denmark, I never once regretted my years spent studying art history. I credit them with making me a more sensitive observer.
You can probably understand why I was intrigued by an article I recently read that described a program in which the radiology residents that the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston take a year-long course in art history using the Art Museum at Harvard University as a resource. Titled “Seeing in Art and Medical Imaging,” the program is now 6 years old. Hyewon Hyun, MD, a radiologist and one of its cofounders, observes that “art is the starting point for in-depth conversations about medicine, humanity, and different ways of seeing the world.”
Radiology and dermatology are obviously the two specialties in which the physician relies most heavily on his or her powers of observation. However, every doctor can benefit from learning to really “see” what they are looking at. Looking and seeing are two very different activities. There is obviously the forest-from the-trees phenomenon. Can the physician in a hurried clinical situation muster up the discipline to shift focus back and forth from the lesion or painful body part to the entire patient and beyond? How is the parent responding to the child’s discomfort? How are they dressed? Does this wider view suggest some additional questions to ask that may help you understand how this patient or family will be able to cope with diagnosis or follow up with your treatment plan?
The art historian sees every object in its historical context. What has come before? How have the societal conditions influenced the artist choice of subject and use of materials? How has his or her emotions at the time of creation influenced his or her style? The astute physician must likewise see the patients and their complaints in the broader context of their emotional health and socioeconomic situation. This requires sensitive listening and careful observation.
One doesn’t have to major in art history or spend years roaming through the sometimes dark and dusty halls of the world’s museums to progress from being one who simply looks to a person who really sees the environment and its inhabitants. It is really a state of mind and a commitment to improvement.
As physicians, we often complain or sometimes brag about how many patients we “see” in a day. I fear that too often we mean “looked at.” How frequently did we make the effort to really see the patient?
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.
People are surprised when they learn I was an art history major in college. Most folks assume I had majored in biology or chemistry. Their assumption was based on strong odds. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that nearly half of all physicians practicing in this country were biology majors.
I headed off to college clueless about my future. I was hoping to succeed as a walk-on to the football team and beyond that I figured someone or something would guide me toward a career. Had you asked me, “physician” it would have been a definite “Never.”
I flirted with a psychology major, but after a semester I realized that the department was more interested in the behavior of rats rather than humans. I got an “easy A” in the intro to art history and that was the open door I was looking for.
By my senior year I was applying for fellowships to study in faraway places. However, the world situation in 1965 was unsettling for a young man in this country. I had had a strong high school science education and had continued to take a some science courses. Fortunately, I had banked just enough credits so that I could apply to medical school, again without really planning to become a physician.
Even during the sharpest turns in my circuitous path to becoming a small town pediatrician, including a year doing research in exercise physiology in Denmark, I never once regretted my years spent studying art history. I credit them with making me a more sensitive observer.
You can probably understand why I was intrigued by an article I recently read that described a program in which the radiology residents that the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston take a year-long course in art history using the Art Museum at Harvard University as a resource. Titled “Seeing in Art and Medical Imaging,” the program is now 6 years old. Hyewon Hyun, MD, a radiologist and one of its cofounders, observes that “art is the starting point for in-depth conversations about medicine, humanity, and different ways of seeing the world.”
Radiology and dermatology are obviously the two specialties in which the physician relies most heavily on his or her powers of observation. However, every doctor can benefit from learning to really “see” what they are looking at. Looking and seeing are two very different activities. There is obviously the forest-from the-trees phenomenon. Can the physician in a hurried clinical situation muster up the discipline to shift focus back and forth from the lesion or painful body part to the entire patient and beyond? How is the parent responding to the child’s discomfort? How are they dressed? Does this wider view suggest some additional questions to ask that may help you understand how this patient or family will be able to cope with diagnosis or follow up with your treatment plan?
The art historian sees every object in its historical context. What has come before? How have the societal conditions influenced the artist choice of subject and use of materials? How has his or her emotions at the time of creation influenced his or her style? The astute physician must likewise see the patients and their complaints in the broader context of their emotional health and socioeconomic situation. This requires sensitive listening and careful observation.
One doesn’t have to major in art history or spend years roaming through the sometimes dark and dusty halls of the world’s museums to progress from being one who simply looks to a person who really sees the environment and its inhabitants. It is really a state of mind and a commitment to improvement.
As physicians, we often complain or sometimes brag about how many patients we “see” in a day. I fear that too often we mean “looked at.” How frequently did we make the effort to really see the patient?
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.
People are surprised when they learn I was an art history major in college. Most folks assume I had majored in biology or chemistry. Their assumption was based on strong odds. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that nearly half of all physicians practicing in this country were biology majors.
I headed off to college clueless about my future. I was hoping to succeed as a walk-on to the football team and beyond that I figured someone or something would guide me toward a career. Had you asked me, “physician” it would have been a definite “Never.”
I flirted with a psychology major, but after a semester I realized that the department was more interested in the behavior of rats rather than humans. I got an “easy A” in the intro to art history and that was the open door I was looking for.
By my senior year I was applying for fellowships to study in faraway places. However, the world situation in 1965 was unsettling for a young man in this country. I had had a strong high school science education and had continued to take a some science courses. Fortunately, I had banked just enough credits so that I could apply to medical school, again without really planning to become a physician.
Even during the sharpest turns in my circuitous path to becoming a small town pediatrician, including a year doing research in exercise physiology in Denmark, I never once regretted my years spent studying art history. I credit them with making me a more sensitive observer.
You can probably understand why I was intrigued by an article I recently read that described a program in which the radiology residents that the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston take a year-long course in art history using the Art Museum at Harvard University as a resource. Titled “Seeing in Art and Medical Imaging,” the program is now 6 years old. Hyewon Hyun, MD, a radiologist and one of its cofounders, observes that “art is the starting point for in-depth conversations about medicine, humanity, and different ways of seeing the world.”
Radiology and dermatology are obviously the two specialties in which the physician relies most heavily on his or her powers of observation. However, every doctor can benefit from learning to really “see” what they are looking at. Looking and seeing are two very different activities. There is obviously the forest-from the-trees phenomenon. Can the physician in a hurried clinical situation muster up the discipline to shift focus back and forth from the lesion or painful body part to the entire patient and beyond? How is the parent responding to the child’s discomfort? How are they dressed? Does this wider view suggest some additional questions to ask that may help you understand how this patient or family will be able to cope with diagnosis or follow up with your treatment plan?
The art historian sees every object in its historical context. What has come before? How have the societal conditions influenced the artist choice of subject and use of materials? How has his or her emotions at the time of creation influenced his or her style? The astute physician must likewise see the patients and their complaints in the broader context of their emotional health and socioeconomic situation. This requires sensitive listening and careful observation.
One doesn’t have to major in art history or spend years roaming through the sometimes dark and dusty halls of the world’s museums to progress from being one who simply looks to a person who really sees the environment and its inhabitants. It is really a state of mind and a commitment to improvement.
As physicians, we often complain or sometimes brag about how many patients we “see” in a day. I fear that too often we mean “looked at.” How frequently did we make the effort to really see the patient?
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.
Feedback in Clinical Education
Until relatively recently, becoming a physician was a process in which the student began as an apprentice to an already skilled clinician. Eventually, both university- and hospital-based schools became part of the process, but an apprenticeship component persisted. In 1910, with the release of the Flexner Report, medical education here in the United States was revolutionized with a shift toward a more academic and scientific model already in use in Europe. While the path to becoming a physician grew more rigorous and science based when the students moved from the classroom and laboratory to the clinic and bedside, the process necessarily returned to its old one-on-one mentor-learner roots.
The venerable maxim of “See one — Do one — Teach one” that dominated my residency may still occasionally be whispered in the quiet corners of teaching hospitals, but I suspect concerns about risk management have discouraged its frequent application in hands-on situations. The development of artificial intelligence–driven mannequins may have finally relegated this remnant of an old cowboy (and girl) procedure-acquisition strategy to the dusty closet of medical education history.
However, when it comes to non–procedure based learning in clinic and hospital settings, the process continues to be one in which the inexperienced are expected to learn by observing their more experienced (sometimes only slightly more experienced) mentors. There may be some mini “lectures” on the fly during rounds explaining the rationale behind what the learner is observing, but “teaching” is still dominated by “Watch this — Try it when it’s your turn — Then we’ll tell you how you did.”
A recent survey in the journal Hospital Pediatrics reviewed in AAP News suggests that there is a problem with feedback, the final step in this three-step process. The investigators surveyed 52 residents and 21 fellows using a scale developed for industrial applications and found that, with the exception of delivery, the fellows scored better than residents in the feedback process. In interviews with a small subgroup of eight residents, the researchers learned that the two consistent impediments to obtaining feedback were 1) that the hectic pace of patient care placed a limit on opportunities (not surprising) and 2) a culture emphasizing “a positive, nurturing environment may have led physicians to avoid giving constructive criticism because it might hurt resident’s feelings.”
I have a friend who has held human resource (HR) positions in two good-sized teaching hospital systems. He certainly agrees with the time limitations component. He has also been involved in several cases in which trainees have accused senior physicians of harassment and unprofessional behavior because learners took issue with the manner in which they had been given feedback on their performance. One wonders if the institution(s) surveyed in this recent study had already experienced similar cases of discontent and have reacted by being so polite that feedback now lacks a feel of authenticity. This was a very small study, and it is hard to know how applicable the findings would be in a national sample, but I suspect there are more than a few teaching institutions in which kid gloves have become fashionable attire.
As my friend pointed out to me, substantial “generational differences” exist in many work places. Different generations may hold competing value systems when it comes to how feedback should be, and should not be, delivered.
None of us were trained in how to deliver a performance evaluation and feedback regardless of whether it was with one or two rushed sentences on a sprint from room to room on morning rounds or a more relaxed sit-down at the end of a rotation. We tend to lean on our own experiences of receiving feedback from our parents, from coaches, and most often from the models we observed as we came up through the hierarchy of medical training.
I found it refreshing to learn that at least one small population of the trainees may be willing, and even eager, to receive honest feedback even though it sometimes may come with a hard edge.
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.
Until relatively recently, becoming a physician was a process in which the student began as an apprentice to an already skilled clinician. Eventually, both university- and hospital-based schools became part of the process, but an apprenticeship component persisted. In 1910, with the release of the Flexner Report, medical education here in the United States was revolutionized with a shift toward a more academic and scientific model already in use in Europe. While the path to becoming a physician grew more rigorous and science based when the students moved from the classroom and laboratory to the clinic and bedside, the process necessarily returned to its old one-on-one mentor-learner roots.
The venerable maxim of “See one — Do one — Teach one” that dominated my residency may still occasionally be whispered in the quiet corners of teaching hospitals, but I suspect concerns about risk management have discouraged its frequent application in hands-on situations. The development of artificial intelligence–driven mannequins may have finally relegated this remnant of an old cowboy (and girl) procedure-acquisition strategy to the dusty closet of medical education history.
However, when it comes to non–procedure based learning in clinic and hospital settings, the process continues to be one in which the inexperienced are expected to learn by observing their more experienced (sometimes only slightly more experienced) mentors. There may be some mini “lectures” on the fly during rounds explaining the rationale behind what the learner is observing, but “teaching” is still dominated by “Watch this — Try it when it’s your turn — Then we’ll tell you how you did.”
A recent survey in the journal Hospital Pediatrics reviewed in AAP News suggests that there is a problem with feedback, the final step in this three-step process. The investigators surveyed 52 residents and 21 fellows using a scale developed for industrial applications and found that, with the exception of delivery, the fellows scored better than residents in the feedback process. In interviews with a small subgroup of eight residents, the researchers learned that the two consistent impediments to obtaining feedback were 1) that the hectic pace of patient care placed a limit on opportunities (not surprising) and 2) a culture emphasizing “a positive, nurturing environment may have led physicians to avoid giving constructive criticism because it might hurt resident’s feelings.”
I have a friend who has held human resource (HR) positions in two good-sized teaching hospital systems. He certainly agrees with the time limitations component. He has also been involved in several cases in which trainees have accused senior physicians of harassment and unprofessional behavior because learners took issue with the manner in which they had been given feedback on their performance. One wonders if the institution(s) surveyed in this recent study had already experienced similar cases of discontent and have reacted by being so polite that feedback now lacks a feel of authenticity. This was a very small study, and it is hard to know how applicable the findings would be in a national sample, but I suspect there are more than a few teaching institutions in which kid gloves have become fashionable attire.
As my friend pointed out to me, substantial “generational differences” exist in many work places. Different generations may hold competing value systems when it comes to how feedback should be, and should not be, delivered.
None of us were trained in how to deliver a performance evaluation and feedback regardless of whether it was with one or two rushed sentences on a sprint from room to room on morning rounds or a more relaxed sit-down at the end of a rotation. We tend to lean on our own experiences of receiving feedback from our parents, from coaches, and most often from the models we observed as we came up through the hierarchy of medical training.
I found it refreshing to learn that at least one small population of the trainees may be willing, and even eager, to receive honest feedback even though it sometimes may come with a hard edge.
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.
Until relatively recently, becoming a physician was a process in which the student began as an apprentice to an already skilled clinician. Eventually, both university- and hospital-based schools became part of the process, but an apprenticeship component persisted. In 1910, with the release of the Flexner Report, medical education here in the United States was revolutionized with a shift toward a more academic and scientific model already in use in Europe. While the path to becoming a physician grew more rigorous and science based when the students moved from the classroom and laboratory to the clinic and bedside, the process necessarily returned to its old one-on-one mentor-learner roots.
The venerable maxim of “See one — Do one — Teach one” that dominated my residency may still occasionally be whispered in the quiet corners of teaching hospitals, but I suspect concerns about risk management have discouraged its frequent application in hands-on situations. The development of artificial intelligence–driven mannequins may have finally relegated this remnant of an old cowboy (and girl) procedure-acquisition strategy to the dusty closet of medical education history.
However, when it comes to non–procedure based learning in clinic and hospital settings, the process continues to be one in which the inexperienced are expected to learn by observing their more experienced (sometimes only slightly more experienced) mentors. There may be some mini “lectures” on the fly during rounds explaining the rationale behind what the learner is observing, but “teaching” is still dominated by “Watch this — Try it when it’s your turn — Then we’ll tell you how you did.”
A recent survey in the journal Hospital Pediatrics reviewed in AAP News suggests that there is a problem with feedback, the final step in this three-step process. The investigators surveyed 52 residents and 21 fellows using a scale developed for industrial applications and found that, with the exception of delivery, the fellows scored better than residents in the feedback process. In interviews with a small subgroup of eight residents, the researchers learned that the two consistent impediments to obtaining feedback were 1) that the hectic pace of patient care placed a limit on opportunities (not surprising) and 2) a culture emphasizing “a positive, nurturing environment may have led physicians to avoid giving constructive criticism because it might hurt resident’s feelings.”
I have a friend who has held human resource (HR) positions in two good-sized teaching hospital systems. He certainly agrees with the time limitations component. He has also been involved in several cases in which trainees have accused senior physicians of harassment and unprofessional behavior because learners took issue with the manner in which they had been given feedback on their performance. One wonders if the institution(s) surveyed in this recent study had already experienced similar cases of discontent and have reacted by being so polite that feedback now lacks a feel of authenticity. This was a very small study, and it is hard to know how applicable the findings would be in a national sample, but I suspect there are more than a few teaching institutions in which kid gloves have become fashionable attire.
As my friend pointed out to me, substantial “generational differences” exist in many work places. Different generations may hold competing value systems when it comes to how feedback should be, and should not be, delivered.
None of us were trained in how to deliver a performance evaluation and feedback regardless of whether it was with one or two rushed sentences on a sprint from room to room on morning rounds or a more relaxed sit-down at the end of a rotation. We tend to lean on our own experiences of receiving feedback from our parents, from coaches, and most often from the models we observed as we came up through the hierarchy of medical training.
I found it refreshing to learn that at least one small population of the trainees may be willing, and even eager, to receive honest feedback even though it sometimes may come with a hard edge.
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.
Too Little and Too Late with Obesity Prevention
As we begin to find our way in the new world of obesity management, questions continue to surface more quickly than answers. This isn’t surprising, as we are being asked to view obesity as a disease when for decades the general consensus has been that overweight people are simply will power deficient.
Are the new drugs as effective as we are told by the patients and physicians who have had some experience using and prescribing them? Will they continue to be effective in the very long run? Will their safety record hold up over time? And for those of us in pediatrics, what will be their role for children? As a group we tend to be cautious about drugs that haven’t been thoroughly tested in children. How many years will it take before we feel comfortable with obesity drugs? And, of course, we should be asking ourselves the same questions about bariatric surgery.
Fortunately, while the media spotlight has been focused on the treatment arm of our obesity strategy, there are still some folks looking at what has been up to now the discouraging prospects for prevention. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) has recently released a draft of its recommendations that includes evidence supporting the effectiveness of “intensive behavioral interventions” (defined as a minimum of 26 hours of counseling). In reviewing data from nearly 60 randomized controlled trials, which included more than 10,000 children, the task force found that It should be noted that the USPSTF gave the intervention package only a B grade, which means that the agency found evidence of high certainty of a moderate benefit over an unspecified time period. Certainly, not a ringing endorsement.
While I think we must applaud the diligent efforts of the task force and its commitment to prevention, I fear that the strategy is too little too late. That being said, I am willing to accept the idea that targeting age 6 for intensive counseling may qualify for the better-late-than-never category. The task force acknowledges that procuring the resources given our already understaffed mental health clinics is going to be difficult and expensive. I would add that it will be so costly in time and money as to be unrealistic.
Based on my observations of thousands of children, the scaffolding of habits, diet, and preference for inactivity that underly obesity has already been laid by age 6. Are we prepared to shoulder our already overburdened school systems in an attempt to reconfigure this foundation of an obesogenic lifestyle? An effort on this scale after children have been sent off to first grade is doomed to failure.
A recent review of data reported by the CDC and reviewed in the journal Pediatrics reveals that about 2% of children receiving federal assistance from the WIC program are severely obese. It is probably safe to say that these preschoolers represent just the tip of a very concerning iceberg.
By waiting until age 6, we would increase the risk of further stigmatizing the obese child. What will he tell his peers when he is taken out of school or misses a playdate because he has to meet with his “obesity counselor”?
If we are going to take obesity prevention seriously and spend time and money in counseling, doesn’t it make more sense to invest this effort on the parents and the home situation when the child is still under their influence? We must be prepared to unwrap and employ an “intensive behavioral package” the first time we see evidence that the child’s growth chart is heading in an unhealthy direction.
This won’t always be easy. I can recall seeing a 4-year-old whose weight had risen dramatically from her previous curve in the year since her 3-year checkup. The answer became obvious when I discovered that her grandmother, for whom baking was a passion, had taken over as her daycare provider. Arriving at a solution that kept the family on speaking terms took some tact, but it was one of my rare successes in obesity prevention. And, it worked because of early intervention.
Thank you USPSTF, but 6 years is too late.
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 we begin to find our way in the new world of obesity management, questions continue to surface more quickly than answers. This isn’t surprising, as we are being asked to view obesity as a disease when for decades the general consensus has been that overweight people are simply will power deficient.
Are the new drugs as effective as we are told by the patients and physicians who have had some experience using and prescribing them? Will they continue to be effective in the very long run? Will their safety record hold up over time? And for those of us in pediatrics, what will be their role for children? As a group we tend to be cautious about drugs that haven’t been thoroughly tested in children. How many years will it take before we feel comfortable with obesity drugs? And, of course, we should be asking ourselves the same questions about bariatric surgery.
Fortunately, while the media spotlight has been focused on the treatment arm of our obesity strategy, there are still some folks looking at what has been up to now the discouraging prospects for prevention. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) has recently released a draft of its recommendations that includes evidence supporting the effectiveness of “intensive behavioral interventions” (defined as a minimum of 26 hours of counseling). In reviewing data from nearly 60 randomized controlled trials, which included more than 10,000 children, the task force found that It should be noted that the USPSTF gave the intervention package only a B grade, which means that the agency found evidence of high certainty of a moderate benefit over an unspecified time period. Certainly, not a ringing endorsement.
While I think we must applaud the diligent efforts of the task force and its commitment to prevention, I fear that the strategy is too little too late. That being said, I am willing to accept the idea that targeting age 6 for intensive counseling may qualify for the better-late-than-never category. The task force acknowledges that procuring the resources given our already understaffed mental health clinics is going to be difficult and expensive. I would add that it will be so costly in time and money as to be unrealistic.
Based on my observations of thousands of children, the scaffolding of habits, diet, and preference for inactivity that underly obesity has already been laid by age 6. Are we prepared to shoulder our already overburdened school systems in an attempt to reconfigure this foundation of an obesogenic lifestyle? An effort on this scale after children have been sent off to first grade is doomed to failure.
A recent review of data reported by the CDC and reviewed in the journal Pediatrics reveals that about 2% of children receiving federal assistance from the WIC program are severely obese. It is probably safe to say that these preschoolers represent just the tip of a very concerning iceberg.
By waiting until age 6, we would increase the risk of further stigmatizing the obese child. What will he tell his peers when he is taken out of school or misses a playdate because he has to meet with his “obesity counselor”?
If we are going to take obesity prevention seriously and spend time and money in counseling, doesn’t it make more sense to invest this effort on the parents and the home situation when the child is still under their influence? We must be prepared to unwrap and employ an “intensive behavioral package” the first time we see evidence that the child’s growth chart is heading in an unhealthy direction.
This won’t always be easy. I can recall seeing a 4-year-old whose weight had risen dramatically from her previous curve in the year since her 3-year checkup. The answer became obvious when I discovered that her grandmother, for whom baking was a passion, had taken over as her daycare provider. Arriving at a solution that kept the family on speaking terms took some tact, but it was one of my rare successes in obesity prevention. And, it worked because of early intervention.
Thank you USPSTF, but 6 years is too late.
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 we begin to find our way in the new world of obesity management, questions continue to surface more quickly than answers. This isn’t surprising, as we are being asked to view obesity as a disease when for decades the general consensus has been that overweight people are simply will power deficient.
Are the new drugs as effective as we are told by the patients and physicians who have had some experience using and prescribing them? Will they continue to be effective in the very long run? Will their safety record hold up over time? And for those of us in pediatrics, what will be their role for children? As a group we tend to be cautious about drugs that haven’t been thoroughly tested in children. How many years will it take before we feel comfortable with obesity drugs? And, of course, we should be asking ourselves the same questions about bariatric surgery.
Fortunately, while the media spotlight has been focused on the treatment arm of our obesity strategy, there are still some folks looking at what has been up to now the discouraging prospects for prevention. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) has recently released a draft of its recommendations that includes evidence supporting the effectiveness of “intensive behavioral interventions” (defined as a minimum of 26 hours of counseling). In reviewing data from nearly 60 randomized controlled trials, which included more than 10,000 children, the task force found that It should be noted that the USPSTF gave the intervention package only a B grade, which means that the agency found evidence of high certainty of a moderate benefit over an unspecified time period. Certainly, not a ringing endorsement.
While I think we must applaud the diligent efforts of the task force and its commitment to prevention, I fear that the strategy is too little too late. That being said, I am willing to accept the idea that targeting age 6 for intensive counseling may qualify for the better-late-than-never category. The task force acknowledges that procuring the resources given our already understaffed mental health clinics is going to be difficult and expensive. I would add that it will be so costly in time and money as to be unrealistic.
Based on my observations of thousands of children, the scaffolding of habits, diet, and preference for inactivity that underly obesity has already been laid by age 6. Are we prepared to shoulder our already overburdened school systems in an attempt to reconfigure this foundation of an obesogenic lifestyle? An effort on this scale after children have been sent off to first grade is doomed to failure.
A recent review of data reported by the CDC and reviewed in the journal Pediatrics reveals that about 2% of children receiving federal assistance from the WIC program are severely obese. It is probably safe to say that these preschoolers represent just the tip of a very concerning iceberg.
By waiting until age 6, we would increase the risk of further stigmatizing the obese child. What will he tell his peers when he is taken out of school or misses a playdate because he has to meet with his “obesity counselor”?
If we are going to take obesity prevention seriously and spend time and money in counseling, doesn’t it make more sense to invest this effort on the parents and the home situation when the child is still under their influence? We must be prepared to unwrap and employ an “intensive behavioral package” the first time we see evidence that the child’s growth chart is heading in an unhealthy direction.
This won’t always be easy. I can recall seeing a 4-year-old whose weight had risen dramatically from her previous curve in the year since her 3-year checkup. The answer became obvious when I discovered that her grandmother, for whom baking was a passion, had taken over as her daycare provider. Arriving at a solution that kept the family on speaking terms took some tact, but it was one of my rare successes in obesity prevention. And, it worked because of early intervention.
Thank you USPSTF, but 6 years is too late.
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.
DEI and C
You’re familiar with DIY and DUI, but what associations do the initials DEI trigger in your thought processor? Your college is probably influenced by it. So is your medical school, as are many of the businesses whose advertisements bombard you on television and the internet. Your professional association is definitely involved with it.
In the words of one newspaper columnist, DEI is an “ideological framework” whose most recognizable buzz words are “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion.” In the case of the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), DEI has taken the form of a hiring philosophy that accepts and respects its responsibility to create a workplace “where each person can fully contribute to the shared mission without discrimination or intimidation and each person is respected, supported, and provided the equal opportunity, regardless of race, ethnicity, ancestry, national origin, religion, gender, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression age, veteran status, immigration status, or disability.”.
As an organization representing its members, the AAP has issued a statement: “Celebrating the diversity of children and families and promoting nurturing, inclusive environments means actively opposing intolerance, bigotry, bias and discrimination” Further, ”. Included in its recommendations to fulfill this commitment are efforts to diversify the pediatric workforce and eliminate race-based medicine.
For the AAP, its commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion seems to be a good fit. The first line of its mission statement — “to attain optimal physical, mental, and social health and well-being for all infants, children, adolescents and young adults” — is well focused and one that its members can agree upon. However, we are beginning to see and hear that on some college and university campuses DEI has worn out its welcome.
In academia, the decision to include a broad mix of students and faculty with diverse backgrounds and at the same time provide opportunities equitably has hit some serious bumps in the road. It’s unclear how much the chaos in the Middle East is to blame, However, for several years there have been unfortunate campus incidents when the invitation of controversial guest speakers has laid bare the widely different interpretations of exactly what “free speech” means.
From its hazy inception, DEI has been missing one key ingredient — commonality. If we are going to actively seek to include individuals from a variety of backgrounds, encourage them to celebrate their diversity, and offer them equitable opportunities, then at the same time we must make it clear that our overriding goal is to seek and encourage the civil discussion of what we all have in common. Neglecting this additional step of promoting commonality is a grave mistake.
One mustn’t be surprised that a group of individuals from diverse backgrounds will have differing opinions. Finding common ground will predictably be a challenge, but it can be done. It requires compromise and a commitment to civil discussion. Regrettably, DEI as a framework places so much emphasis on the individual and diversity that the critical concept of commonality has been lost. Ironically, true inclusion and equity can’t occur without a reverence for commonality.
The AAP has done a good job of folding DEI into fulfilling the first sentence of its mission statement. However, it must not lose sight of the critical ingredient of commonality as it seeks to “support the professional needs of its members” (the second sentence of its mission). Despite a general agreement on the goal of providing care for all children, there are differences of opinion among its members when it comes to some of the details. The confusing topic of gender-affirmative care comes to mind. I am confident that as a group of thoughtful professionals, even in the face of wide differences, we can see the way to civil and productive discussions in the search for commonality.
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.
You’re familiar with DIY and DUI, but what associations do the initials DEI trigger in your thought processor? Your college is probably influenced by it. So is your medical school, as are many of the businesses whose advertisements bombard you on television and the internet. Your professional association is definitely involved with it.
In the words of one newspaper columnist, DEI is an “ideological framework” whose most recognizable buzz words are “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion.” In the case of the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), DEI has taken the form of a hiring philosophy that accepts and respects its responsibility to create a workplace “where each person can fully contribute to the shared mission without discrimination or intimidation and each person is respected, supported, and provided the equal opportunity, regardless of race, ethnicity, ancestry, national origin, religion, gender, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression age, veteran status, immigration status, or disability.”.
As an organization representing its members, the AAP has issued a statement: “Celebrating the diversity of children and families and promoting nurturing, inclusive environments means actively opposing intolerance, bigotry, bias and discrimination” Further, ”. Included in its recommendations to fulfill this commitment are efforts to diversify the pediatric workforce and eliminate race-based medicine.
For the AAP, its commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion seems to be a good fit. The first line of its mission statement — “to attain optimal physical, mental, and social health and well-being for all infants, children, adolescents and young adults” — is well focused and one that its members can agree upon. However, we are beginning to see and hear that on some college and university campuses DEI has worn out its welcome.
In academia, the decision to include a broad mix of students and faculty with diverse backgrounds and at the same time provide opportunities equitably has hit some serious bumps in the road. It’s unclear how much the chaos in the Middle East is to blame, However, for several years there have been unfortunate campus incidents when the invitation of controversial guest speakers has laid bare the widely different interpretations of exactly what “free speech” means.
From its hazy inception, DEI has been missing one key ingredient — commonality. If we are going to actively seek to include individuals from a variety of backgrounds, encourage them to celebrate their diversity, and offer them equitable opportunities, then at the same time we must make it clear that our overriding goal is to seek and encourage the civil discussion of what we all have in common. Neglecting this additional step of promoting commonality is a grave mistake.
One mustn’t be surprised that a group of individuals from diverse backgrounds will have differing opinions. Finding common ground will predictably be a challenge, but it can be done. It requires compromise and a commitment to civil discussion. Regrettably, DEI as a framework places so much emphasis on the individual and diversity that the critical concept of commonality has been lost. Ironically, true inclusion and equity can’t occur without a reverence for commonality.
The AAP has done a good job of folding DEI into fulfilling the first sentence of its mission statement. However, it must not lose sight of the critical ingredient of commonality as it seeks to “support the professional needs of its members” (the second sentence of its mission). Despite a general agreement on the goal of providing care for all children, there are differences of opinion among its members when it comes to some of the details. The confusing topic of gender-affirmative care comes to mind. I am confident that as a group of thoughtful professionals, even in the face of wide differences, we can see the way to civil and productive discussions in the search for commonality.
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.
You’re familiar with DIY and DUI, but what associations do the initials DEI trigger in your thought processor? Your college is probably influenced by it. So is your medical school, as are many of the businesses whose advertisements bombard you on television and the internet. Your professional association is definitely involved with it.
In the words of one newspaper columnist, DEI is an “ideological framework” whose most recognizable buzz words are “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion.” In the case of the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), DEI has taken the form of a hiring philosophy that accepts and respects its responsibility to create a workplace “where each person can fully contribute to the shared mission without discrimination or intimidation and each person is respected, supported, and provided the equal opportunity, regardless of race, ethnicity, ancestry, national origin, religion, gender, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression age, veteran status, immigration status, or disability.”.
As an organization representing its members, the AAP has issued a statement: “Celebrating the diversity of children and families and promoting nurturing, inclusive environments means actively opposing intolerance, bigotry, bias and discrimination” Further, ”. Included in its recommendations to fulfill this commitment are efforts to diversify the pediatric workforce and eliminate race-based medicine.
For the AAP, its commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion seems to be a good fit. The first line of its mission statement — “to attain optimal physical, mental, and social health and well-being for all infants, children, adolescents and young adults” — is well focused and one that its members can agree upon. However, we are beginning to see and hear that on some college and university campuses DEI has worn out its welcome.
In academia, the decision to include a broad mix of students and faculty with diverse backgrounds and at the same time provide opportunities equitably has hit some serious bumps in the road. It’s unclear how much the chaos in the Middle East is to blame, However, for several years there have been unfortunate campus incidents when the invitation of controversial guest speakers has laid bare the widely different interpretations of exactly what “free speech” means.
From its hazy inception, DEI has been missing one key ingredient — commonality. If we are going to actively seek to include individuals from a variety of backgrounds, encourage them to celebrate their diversity, and offer them equitable opportunities, then at the same time we must make it clear that our overriding goal is to seek and encourage the civil discussion of what we all have in common. Neglecting this additional step of promoting commonality is a grave mistake.
One mustn’t be surprised that a group of individuals from diverse backgrounds will have differing opinions. Finding common ground will predictably be a challenge, but it can be done. It requires compromise and a commitment to civil discussion. Regrettably, DEI as a framework places so much emphasis on the individual and diversity that the critical concept of commonality has been lost. Ironically, true inclusion and equity can’t occur without a reverence for commonality.
The AAP has done a good job of folding DEI into fulfilling the first sentence of its mission statement. However, it must not lose sight of the critical ingredient of commonality as it seeks to “support the professional needs of its members” (the second sentence of its mission). Despite a general agreement on the goal of providing care for all children, there are differences of opinion among its members when it comes to some of the details. The confusing topic of gender-affirmative care comes to mind. I am confident that as a group of thoughtful professionals, even in the face of wide differences, we can see the way to civil and productive discussions in the search for commonality.
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.
An alternative to walking out
Organized labor seems to be experiencing a rebirth of sorts. In October 2022 a strike by railroad workers was averted when a tentative agreement about wages, working conditions, health insurance, and medical leave was hammered out. This past fall, strikes by auto workers that threatened to paralyze the big three manufacturers have now been resolved with agreements that meet many of the workers’ demands. The President even made an appearance on a picket line. Baristas at coffee shops, screenwriters, and actors have all been involved in work actions around the country.
While the health care industry has been relatively immune to threatened work stoppages, there are a growing number of hospitals and clinics where nurses and physicians are exploring the possibility of organizing to give themselves a stronger voice in how health care is being delivered. The realities that come when you transition from owner to employee are finally beginning to sink in for physicians, whether they are specialists or primary care providers.
One of the most significant efforts toward unionization recently occurred in Minnesota and Wisconsin. About 400 physicians and 150 physician’s assistants and nurse practitioners employed at Allina Health System voted to unionize and join the Doctors Council.
In an interview with Jacobin, a publication that offers a socialist perspective, three of the providers involved in the process that led to the vote shared their observations. The physicians claim that the first steps toward unionization came after multiple efforts to work with the Allina’s administration were rebuffed. As primary care physicians, their initial demands focused on getting help with hiring staffing and getting support with paperwork and administrative obligations.
The organizers complained that while Medicare hoped to bolster primary care by paying the providers more, the funds went to the companies, who then distributed them in a way that often did little to help the overworked providers. In addition to achieving a more equitable distribution of the monies, one of the organizers sees unionization as a way to provide a layer of protection when providers feel they must speak out about situations which clearly put quality of care at risk.
The organizers say the idea of unionization has been particularly appealing to the younger providers who are feeling threatened by burnout. When these new physicians look to their older coworkers for advice, they often find that the seasoned employees are as stressed as they are. Realizing that things aren’t going to improve with time, acting now to strengthen their voices sounds appealing.
With the vote for unionization behind them, the organizers are now ready to formulate a prioritized list of demands. Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine know that I have been urging primary care physicians to find their voices. Unfortunately, unionization seems to be becoming a more common fall-back strategy when other avenues have failed to reach a sympathetic ear in the corporate boardrooms.
As more unions form, it will be interesting to see how the organizers structure their demands and job actions. While walkouts and strikes can certainly be effective in gaining attention, that attention can carry a risk of counter productivity sometimes by alienating patients, who should become allies.
Since an unsustainable burden of paperwork and administrative demands seems to be at the top of everyone’s priority list, it might make sense to adopt this message as a scaffolding on which to built a work action. Instead of walking off the job or marching on a picket line, why not stay in the hospital and continue to see patients but only for part of the work day. The remainder of the day would be spent doing all the clerical work that has become so onerous.
Providers would agree to see patients in the mornings, saving up the clerical work and administrative obligations for the afternoon. The definition of “morning” could vary depending on local conditions.
The important message to the public and the patients would be that the providers were not abandoning them by walking out. The patients’ access to face-to-face care was being limited not because the doctors didn’t want to see them but because the providers were being forced to accept other responsibilities by the administration. The physicians would always be on site in case of a crisis, but until reasonable demands for support from the company were met, a certain portion of the providers’ day would be spent doing things not directly related to face-to-face patient care. This burden of meaningless work is the reality as it stands already. Why not organize it in a way that makes it startlingly visible to the patients and the public.
There would be no video clips of physicians walking the picket lines carrying signs. Any images released to the media would be of empty waiting rooms while providers sat hunched over their computers or talking on the phone to insurance companies.
The strategy needs a catchy phrase like “a paperwork-in” but I’m still struggling with a name. Let me know if you have a better one or even a better strategy.
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.
Organized labor seems to be experiencing a rebirth of sorts. In October 2022 a strike by railroad workers was averted when a tentative agreement about wages, working conditions, health insurance, and medical leave was hammered out. This past fall, strikes by auto workers that threatened to paralyze the big three manufacturers have now been resolved with agreements that meet many of the workers’ demands. The President even made an appearance on a picket line. Baristas at coffee shops, screenwriters, and actors have all been involved in work actions around the country.
While the health care industry has been relatively immune to threatened work stoppages, there are a growing number of hospitals and clinics where nurses and physicians are exploring the possibility of organizing to give themselves a stronger voice in how health care is being delivered. The realities that come when you transition from owner to employee are finally beginning to sink in for physicians, whether they are specialists or primary care providers.
One of the most significant efforts toward unionization recently occurred in Minnesota and Wisconsin. About 400 physicians and 150 physician’s assistants and nurse practitioners employed at Allina Health System voted to unionize and join the Doctors Council.
In an interview with Jacobin, a publication that offers a socialist perspective, three of the providers involved in the process that led to the vote shared their observations. The physicians claim that the first steps toward unionization came after multiple efforts to work with the Allina’s administration were rebuffed. As primary care physicians, their initial demands focused on getting help with hiring staffing and getting support with paperwork and administrative obligations.
The organizers complained that while Medicare hoped to bolster primary care by paying the providers more, the funds went to the companies, who then distributed them in a way that often did little to help the overworked providers. In addition to achieving a more equitable distribution of the monies, one of the organizers sees unionization as a way to provide a layer of protection when providers feel they must speak out about situations which clearly put quality of care at risk.
The organizers say the idea of unionization has been particularly appealing to the younger providers who are feeling threatened by burnout. When these new physicians look to their older coworkers for advice, they often find that the seasoned employees are as stressed as they are. Realizing that things aren’t going to improve with time, acting now to strengthen their voices sounds appealing.
With the vote for unionization behind them, the organizers are now ready to formulate a prioritized list of demands. Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine know that I have been urging primary care physicians to find their voices. Unfortunately, unionization seems to be becoming a more common fall-back strategy when other avenues have failed to reach a sympathetic ear in the corporate boardrooms.
As more unions form, it will be interesting to see how the organizers structure their demands and job actions. While walkouts and strikes can certainly be effective in gaining attention, that attention can carry a risk of counter productivity sometimes by alienating patients, who should become allies.
Since an unsustainable burden of paperwork and administrative demands seems to be at the top of everyone’s priority list, it might make sense to adopt this message as a scaffolding on which to built a work action. Instead of walking off the job or marching on a picket line, why not stay in the hospital and continue to see patients but only for part of the work day. The remainder of the day would be spent doing all the clerical work that has become so onerous.
Providers would agree to see patients in the mornings, saving up the clerical work and administrative obligations for the afternoon. The definition of “morning” could vary depending on local conditions.
The important message to the public and the patients would be that the providers were not abandoning them by walking out. The patients’ access to face-to-face care was being limited not because the doctors didn’t want to see them but because the providers were being forced to accept other responsibilities by the administration. The physicians would always be on site in case of a crisis, but until reasonable demands for support from the company were met, a certain portion of the providers’ day would be spent doing things not directly related to face-to-face patient care. This burden of meaningless work is the reality as it stands already. Why not organize it in a way that makes it startlingly visible to the patients and the public.
There would be no video clips of physicians walking the picket lines carrying signs. Any images released to the media would be of empty waiting rooms while providers sat hunched over their computers or talking on the phone to insurance companies.
The strategy needs a catchy phrase like “a paperwork-in” but I’m still struggling with a name. Let me know if you have a better one or even a better strategy.
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.
Organized labor seems to be experiencing a rebirth of sorts. In October 2022 a strike by railroad workers was averted when a tentative agreement about wages, working conditions, health insurance, and medical leave was hammered out. This past fall, strikes by auto workers that threatened to paralyze the big three manufacturers have now been resolved with agreements that meet many of the workers’ demands. The President even made an appearance on a picket line. Baristas at coffee shops, screenwriters, and actors have all been involved in work actions around the country.
While the health care industry has been relatively immune to threatened work stoppages, there are a growing number of hospitals and clinics where nurses and physicians are exploring the possibility of organizing to give themselves a stronger voice in how health care is being delivered. The realities that come when you transition from owner to employee are finally beginning to sink in for physicians, whether they are specialists or primary care providers.
One of the most significant efforts toward unionization recently occurred in Minnesota and Wisconsin. About 400 physicians and 150 physician’s assistants and nurse practitioners employed at Allina Health System voted to unionize and join the Doctors Council.
In an interview with Jacobin, a publication that offers a socialist perspective, three of the providers involved in the process that led to the vote shared their observations. The physicians claim that the first steps toward unionization came after multiple efforts to work with the Allina’s administration were rebuffed. As primary care physicians, their initial demands focused on getting help with hiring staffing and getting support with paperwork and administrative obligations.
The organizers complained that while Medicare hoped to bolster primary care by paying the providers more, the funds went to the companies, who then distributed them in a way that often did little to help the overworked providers. In addition to achieving a more equitable distribution of the monies, one of the organizers sees unionization as a way to provide a layer of protection when providers feel they must speak out about situations which clearly put quality of care at risk.
The organizers say the idea of unionization has been particularly appealing to the younger providers who are feeling threatened by burnout. When these new physicians look to their older coworkers for advice, they often find that the seasoned employees are as stressed as they are. Realizing that things aren’t going to improve with time, acting now to strengthen their voices sounds appealing.
With the vote for unionization behind them, the organizers are now ready to formulate a prioritized list of demands. Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine know that I have been urging primary care physicians to find their voices. Unfortunately, unionization seems to be becoming a more common fall-back strategy when other avenues have failed to reach a sympathetic ear in the corporate boardrooms.
As more unions form, it will be interesting to see how the organizers structure their demands and job actions. While walkouts and strikes can certainly be effective in gaining attention, that attention can carry a risk of counter productivity sometimes by alienating patients, who should become allies.
Since an unsustainable burden of paperwork and administrative demands seems to be at the top of everyone’s priority list, it might make sense to adopt this message as a scaffolding on which to built a work action. Instead of walking off the job or marching on a picket line, why not stay in the hospital and continue to see patients but only for part of the work day. The remainder of the day would be spent doing all the clerical work that has become so onerous.
Providers would agree to see patients in the mornings, saving up the clerical work and administrative obligations for the afternoon. The definition of “morning” could vary depending on local conditions.
The important message to the public and the patients would be that the providers were not abandoning them by walking out. The patients’ access to face-to-face care was being limited not because the doctors didn’t want to see them but because the providers were being forced to accept other responsibilities by the administration. The physicians would always be on site in case of a crisis, but until reasonable demands for support from the company were met, a certain portion of the providers’ day would be spent doing things not directly related to face-to-face patient care. This burden of meaningless work is the reality as it stands already. Why not organize it in a way that makes it startlingly visible to the patients and the public.
There would be no video clips of physicians walking the picket lines carrying signs. Any images released to the media would be of empty waiting rooms while providers sat hunched over their computers or talking on the phone to insurance companies.
The strategy needs a catchy phrase like “a paperwork-in” but I’m still struggling with a name. Let me know if you have a better one or even a better strategy.
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.
Quitting medical school
A few weeks ago I shared by concerns about the dwindling numbers of primary care physicians. The early exodus of practicing providers and an obvious disinterest by future physicians in what they see as the unpalatable work/life balance of frontline hands-on medicine are among the causes.
A recent study published in the journal Pediatrics highlights personal finance as a contributor to the drain on the primary care workforce. The investigators found “high self-reported educational debt ($200,000 to < $300,000) was positively associated with training in a positive lifetime earnings potential subspecialty.” In other words, why would a physician who was burdened with student loans enter a subspecialty that would limit his or her ability to pay it off? I suspect that money has always been a factor in career selection, but the ballooning cost of college and medical school has certainly not nudged graduates toward the low lifetime earnings potential of primary care pediatrics.
Another recently released survey adds the perspective of current medical school students to the murky future of the primary health care workforce. The Clinician of the Future 2023: Education Edition, published by Elsevier Health, reports on insights of more than 2,000 nursing and medical school student from around the world. The headline shocker was that while across the board a not surprising 12% of medical students were considering quitting their studies, in the United States this number was 25%.
Overall, more than 60% of the students worried about their future income, how workforce shortages would effect them and whether they would join the ranks of those clinicians suffering from burnout. While the students surveyed acknowledged that artificial intelligence could have some negative repercussions, 62% were excited about its use in their education. Similarly, they anticipated the positive contribution of digital technology while acknowledging its potential downsides.
Given the current mental health climate in this country, I was not surprised that almost a quarter of medical students in this country are considering quitting school. I would like to see a larger sample surveyed and repeated over time. But, the discrepancy between the United States and the rest of the world is troubling.
The number that really jumped out at me was that 54% of medical students (nurses, 62%) viewed “ their current studies as a stepping-stone toward a broader career in health care.” As an example, the authors quoted one medical student who plans to “look for other possibilities where I don’t directly treat patients.”
Whether this disinterest in direct patient care is an attitude that preceded their entry into medical school or a change reflecting a major reversal induced by the realty of face-to-face patient encounters in school was not addressed in the survey. I think the general population would be surprised and maybe disappointed to learn that half the students in medical school weren’t planning on seeing patients.
I went off to medical school with a rather naive Norman Rockwellian view of a physician. I was a little surprised that a few of my classmates seemed to be gravitating toward administrative and research careers, but by far most of us were heading toward opportunities that would place us face to face with patients. Some would become specialists but primary care still had an appeal for many of us.
In my last letter about primary care training, I suggested that traditional medical school was probably a poor investment for the person who shares a bit of my old-school image of the primary care physician. In addition to cost and the time invested, the curriculum would likely be overly broad and deep and not terribly applicable to the patient mix he or she would eventually be seeing. This global survey may suggest that medical students have already discovered, or are just now discovering, this mismatch between medical school and the realities of primary care.
Our challenge is to first deal with deterrent of student debt and then to develop a new, affordable and efficient pathway to primary care that attracts those people who are looking for a face to face style of medicine on the front line. The patients know we need specialists and administrators but they also want a bit more of Norman Rockwell.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
A few weeks ago I shared by concerns about the dwindling numbers of primary care physicians. The early exodus of practicing providers and an obvious disinterest by future physicians in what they see as the unpalatable work/life balance of frontline hands-on medicine are among the causes.
A recent study published in the journal Pediatrics highlights personal finance as a contributor to the drain on the primary care workforce. The investigators found “high self-reported educational debt ($200,000 to < $300,000) was positively associated with training in a positive lifetime earnings potential subspecialty.” In other words, why would a physician who was burdened with student loans enter a subspecialty that would limit his or her ability to pay it off? I suspect that money has always been a factor in career selection, but the ballooning cost of college and medical school has certainly not nudged graduates toward the low lifetime earnings potential of primary care pediatrics.
Another recently released survey adds the perspective of current medical school students to the murky future of the primary health care workforce. The Clinician of the Future 2023: Education Edition, published by Elsevier Health, reports on insights of more than 2,000 nursing and medical school student from around the world. The headline shocker was that while across the board a not surprising 12% of medical students were considering quitting their studies, in the United States this number was 25%.
Overall, more than 60% of the students worried about their future income, how workforce shortages would effect them and whether they would join the ranks of those clinicians suffering from burnout. While the students surveyed acknowledged that artificial intelligence could have some negative repercussions, 62% were excited about its use in their education. Similarly, they anticipated the positive contribution of digital technology while acknowledging its potential downsides.
Given the current mental health climate in this country, I was not surprised that almost a quarter of medical students in this country are considering quitting school. I would like to see a larger sample surveyed and repeated over time. But, the discrepancy between the United States and the rest of the world is troubling.
The number that really jumped out at me was that 54% of medical students (nurses, 62%) viewed “ their current studies as a stepping-stone toward a broader career in health care.” As an example, the authors quoted one medical student who plans to “look for other possibilities where I don’t directly treat patients.”
Whether this disinterest in direct patient care is an attitude that preceded their entry into medical school or a change reflecting a major reversal induced by the realty of face-to-face patient encounters in school was not addressed in the survey. I think the general population would be surprised and maybe disappointed to learn that half the students in medical school weren’t planning on seeing patients.
I went off to medical school with a rather naive Norman Rockwellian view of a physician. I was a little surprised that a few of my classmates seemed to be gravitating toward administrative and research careers, but by far most of us were heading toward opportunities that would place us face to face with patients. Some would become specialists but primary care still had an appeal for many of us.
In my last letter about primary care training, I suggested that traditional medical school was probably a poor investment for the person who shares a bit of my old-school image of the primary care physician. In addition to cost and the time invested, the curriculum would likely be overly broad and deep and not terribly applicable to the patient mix he or she would eventually be seeing. This global survey may suggest that medical students have already discovered, or are just now discovering, this mismatch between medical school and the realities of primary care.
Our challenge is to first deal with deterrent of student debt and then to develop a new, affordable and efficient pathway to primary care that attracts those people who are looking for a face to face style of medicine on the front line. The patients know we need specialists and administrators but they also want a bit more of Norman Rockwell.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
A few weeks ago I shared by concerns about the dwindling numbers of primary care physicians. The early exodus of practicing providers and an obvious disinterest by future physicians in what they see as the unpalatable work/life balance of frontline hands-on medicine are among the causes.
A recent study published in the journal Pediatrics highlights personal finance as a contributor to the drain on the primary care workforce. The investigators found “high self-reported educational debt ($200,000 to < $300,000) was positively associated with training in a positive lifetime earnings potential subspecialty.” In other words, why would a physician who was burdened with student loans enter a subspecialty that would limit his or her ability to pay it off? I suspect that money has always been a factor in career selection, but the ballooning cost of college and medical school has certainly not nudged graduates toward the low lifetime earnings potential of primary care pediatrics.
Another recently released survey adds the perspective of current medical school students to the murky future of the primary health care workforce. The Clinician of the Future 2023: Education Edition, published by Elsevier Health, reports on insights of more than 2,000 nursing and medical school student from around the world. The headline shocker was that while across the board a not surprising 12% of medical students were considering quitting their studies, in the United States this number was 25%.
Overall, more than 60% of the students worried about their future income, how workforce shortages would effect them and whether they would join the ranks of those clinicians suffering from burnout. While the students surveyed acknowledged that artificial intelligence could have some negative repercussions, 62% were excited about its use in their education. Similarly, they anticipated the positive contribution of digital technology while acknowledging its potential downsides.
Given the current mental health climate in this country, I was not surprised that almost a quarter of medical students in this country are considering quitting school. I would like to see a larger sample surveyed and repeated over time. But, the discrepancy between the United States and the rest of the world is troubling.
The number that really jumped out at me was that 54% of medical students (nurses, 62%) viewed “ their current studies as a stepping-stone toward a broader career in health care.” As an example, the authors quoted one medical student who plans to “look for other possibilities where I don’t directly treat patients.”
Whether this disinterest in direct patient care is an attitude that preceded their entry into medical school or a change reflecting a major reversal induced by the realty of face-to-face patient encounters in school was not addressed in the survey. I think the general population would be surprised and maybe disappointed to learn that half the students in medical school weren’t planning on seeing patients.
I went off to medical school with a rather naive Norman Rockwellian view of a physician. I was a little surprised that a few of my classmates seemed to be gravitating toward administrative and research careers, but by far most of us were heading toward opportunities that would place us face to face with patients. Some would become specialists but primary care still had an appeal for many of us.
In my last letter about primary care training, I suggested that traditional medical school was probably a poor investment for the person who shares a bit of my old-school image of the primary care physician. In addition to cost and the time invested, the curriculum would likely be overly broad and deep and not terribly applicable to the patient mix he or she would eventually be seeing. This global survey may suggest that medical students have already discovered, or are just now discovering, this mismatch between medical school and the realities of primary care.
Our challenge is to first deal with deterrent of student debt and then to develop a new, affordable and efficient pathway to primary care that attracts those people who are looking for a face to face style of medicine on the front line. The patients know we need specialists and administrators but they also want a bit more of Norman Rockwell.
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.
Fatal and nonfatal injuries
I suspect that, like me, you were saddened, but maybe not shocked, to learn that firearm-related fatalities have recently surpassed motor vehicle–related fatalities as the leading cause of death among children. For those of us living in Maine, this revelation came at a particularly difficult time. The body of the presumed shooter in the Lewiston massacre was found less than 10 miles from where I am writing you this letter. There is a good chance he may have been a former patient of mine, but I no longer have access to my records to confirm that.
This reshuffling at the top of the list of mortality causes is just one example of the shifting trends that have occurred in pediatric fatality statistics. In a recent analysis of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics published in Pediatrics investigators discovered that while, in general, fatal injuries have increased over the study period (2011-2021) nonfatal injuries have decreased.
We should no longer be surprised to learn that firearm-related deaths increased more than 87%. Fatal drug poisoning was up 133% and suffocation-related deaths increased 12.5% over that 10-year period. Given this profile of fatalities, it shouldn’t surprise us that nonfatal injuries due to firearms, poisoning, and self-harm also increased.
However, nonfatal injuries in other broad categories decreased: falls were down 52.8%, overexertion 63%, struck by [something or someone] 47.3%, motor vehicle occupant 36.7%, and cut pierce 36.7%. Nonfatal drownings were unchanged.
Diverging trends
What are we to make of these diverging trends? I suspect that when it comes to both firearms and drug poisonings, both fatal and nonfatal, children are now living in an environment in which the sheer volume of guns and drugs have grown the point, and will continue to grow, that contact and its consequences will continue to increase until we reach a saturation point at some unpredictable point in the future. There still may be some opportunities to curb the flow of drugs. But, I am afraid when it comes to firearms, that ship has sailed. We may have a chance to curb assault weapons, but hand guns have become ubiquitous to the point that they will continue to be a threat to children.
The increase in self-harm injuries is clearly a reflection of the increase in pediatric and adolescent mental health disturbances, which in turn is a reflection of the gloom hanging over the population in general.
But, what’s going on with the decrease in nonfatal injuries caused by falls, overexertion, struck by, and cut pierce? Is this a bit of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy picture? The authors of the paper see it as a reflection of our “public health interventions targeting pediatric safety partnered with technological advancement and legislative requirements.” Maybe when we are talking about booster seats and other automotive safety advancements. But I’m not so sure we should be too vigorous as we pat ourselves on the back.
On the other hand, aren’t these decreases in injuries related to activity just more evidence of our increasingly sedentary pediatric population? Falling off the couch seldom creates an injury that generates an ED statistic. Myopia and obesity related to excess screen time doesn’t trigger data points in this study. Overexertion injuries are down. We already know the consequences of underexertion are up.
I’m not sure we need to cut back on our efforts at injury prevention but I worry that we may run the risk of discouraging healthy activity if we aren’t careful with our voices of caution.
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, like me, you were saddened, but maybe not shocked, to learn that firearm-related fatalities have recently surpassed motor vehicle–related fatalities as the leading cause of death among children. For those of us living in Maine, this revelation came at a particularly difficult time. The body of the presumed shooter in the Lewiston massacre was found less than 10 miles from where I am writing you this letter. There is a good chance he may have been a former patient of mine, but I no longer have access to my records to confirm that.
This reshuffling at the top of the list of mortality causes is just one example of the shifting trends that have occurred in pediatric fatality statistics. In a recent analysis of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics published in Pediatrics investigators discovered that while, in general, fatal injuries have increased over the study period (2011-2021) nonfatal injuries have decreased.
We should no longer be surprised to learn that firearm-related deaths increased more than 87%. Fatal drug poisoning was up 133% and suffocation-related deaths increased 12.5% over that 10-year period. Given this profile of fatalities, it shouldn’t surprise us that nonfatal injuries due to firearms, poisoning, and self-harm also increased.
However, nonfatal injuries in other broad categories decreased: falls were down 52.8%, overexertion 63%, struck by [something or someone] 47.3%, motor vehicle occupant 36.7%, and cut pierce 36.7%. Nonfatal drownings were unchanged.
Diverging trends
What are we to make of these diverging trends? I suspect that when it comes to both firearms and drug poisonings, both fatal and nonfatal, children are now living in an environment in which the sheer volume of guns and drugs have grown the point, and will continue to grow, that contact and its consequences will continue to increase until we reach a saturation point at some unpredictable point in the future. There still may be some opportunities to curb the flow of drugs. But, I am afraid when it comes to firearms, that ship has sailed. We may have a chance to curb assault weapons, but hand guns have become ubiquitous to the point that they will continue to be a threat to children.
The increase in self-harm injuries is clearly a reflection of the increase in pediatric and adolescent mental health disturbances, which in turn is a reflection of the gloom hanging over the population in general.
But, what’s going on with the decrease in nonfatal injuries caused by falls, overexertion, struck by, and cut pierce? Is this a bit of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy picture? The authors of the paper see it as a reflection of our “public health interventions targeting pediatric safety partnered with technological advancement and legislative requirements.” Maybe when we are talking about booster seats and other automotive safety advancements. But I’m not so sure we should be too vigorous as we pat ourselves on the back.
On the other hand, aren’t these decreases in injuries related to activity just more evidence of our increasingly sedentary pediatric population? Falling off the couch seldom creates an injury that generates an ED statistic. Myopia and obesity related to excess screen time doesn’t trigger data points in this study. Overexertion injuries are down. We already know the consequences of underexertion are up.
I’m not sure we need to cut back on our efforts at injury prevention but I worry that we may run the risk of discouraging healthy activity if we aren’t careful with our voices of caution.
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, like me, you were saddened, but maybe not shocked, to learn that firearm-related fatalities have recently surpassed motor vehicle–related fatalities as the leading cause of death among children. For those of us living in Maine, this revelation came at a particularly difficult time. The body of the presumed shooter in the Lewiston massacre was found less than 10 miles from where I am writing you this letter. There is a good chance he may have been a former patient of mine, but I no longer have access to my records to confirm that.
This reshuffling at the top of the list of mortality causes is just one example of the shifting trends that have occurred in pediatric fatality statistics. In a recent analysis of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics published in Pediatrics investigators discovered that while, in general, fatal injuries have increased over the study period (2011-2021) nonfatal injuries have decreased.
We should no longer be surprised to learn that firearm-related deaths increased more than 87%. Fatal drug poisoning was up 133% and suffocation-related deaths increased 12.5% over that 10-year period. Given this profile of fatalities, it shouldn’t surprise us that nonfatal injuries due to firearms, poisoning, and self-harm also increased.
However, nonfatal injuries in other broad categories decreased: falls were down 52.8%, overexertion 63%, struck by [something or someone] 47.3%, motor vehicle occupant 36.7%, and cut pierce 36.7%. Nonfatal drownings were unchanged.
Diverging trends
What are we to make of these diverging trends? I suspect that when it comes to both firearms and drug poisonings, both fatal and nonfatal, children are now living in an environment in which the sheer volume of guns and drugs have grown the point, and will continue to grow, that contact and its consequences will continue to increase until we reach a saturation point at some unpredictable point in the future. There still may be some opportunities to curb the flow of drugs. But, I am afraid when it comes to firearms, that ship has sailed. We may have a chance to curb assault weapons, but hand guns have become ubiquitous to the point that they will continue to be a threat to children.
The increase in self-harm injuries is clearly a reflection of the increase in pediatric and adolescent mental health disturbances, which in turn is a reflection of the gloom hanging over the population in general.
But, what’s going on with the decrease in nonfatal injuries caused by falls, overexertion, struck by, and cut pierce? Is this a bit of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy picture? The authors of the paper see it as a reflection of our “public health interventions targeting pediatric safety partnered with technological advancement and legislative requirements.” Maybe when we are talking about booster seats and other automotive safety advancements. But I’m not so sure we should be too vigorous as we pat ourselves on the back.
On the other hand, aren’t these decreases in injuries related to activity just more evidence of our increasingly sedentary pediatric population? Falling off the couch seldom creates an injury that generates an ED statistic. Myopia and obesity related to excess screen time doesn’t trigger data points in this study. Overexertion injuries are down. We already know the consequences of underexertion are up.
I’m not sure we need to cut back on our efforts at injury prevention but I worry that we may run the risk of discouraging healthy activity if we aren’t careful with our voices of caution.
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.
Knowing when enough is enough
“On which side of the bed did you get up this morning?” Obviously, your inquisitor assumes that to avoid clumsily crawling over your sleeping partner you always get up on the side with the table stacked with unread books.
You know as well as I do that you have just received a totally undisguised comment on your recent behavior that has been several shades less than cheery. You may have already sensed your own grumpiness. Do you have an explanation? Did the commute leave you with a case of unresolved road rage? Did you wake up feeling unrested? How often does that happen? Do you think you are getting enough sleep?
A few weeks ago I wrote a Letters From Maine column in which I shared a study suggesting that the regularity of an individual’s sleep pattern may, in many cases, be more important than his or her total number of hours slept. In that same column I wrote that sleep scientists don’t as yet have a good definition of sleep irregularity, nor can they give us any more than a broad range for the total number of hours a person needs to maintain wellness.
How do you determine whether you are getting enough sleep? Do you keep a chart of how many times you were asked which side of the bed you got up on in a week? Or is it how you feel in the morning? Is it when you instantly doze off any time you sit down in a quiet place?
Although many adults are clueless (or in denial) that they are sleep deprived, generally if you ask them and take a brief history they will tell you. On the other hand, determining when a child, particularly one who is preverbal, is sleep deprived is a bit more difficult. Asking the patient isn’t going to give you the answer. You must rely on parental observations. And, to some extent, this can be difficult because parents are, by definition, learning on the job. They may not realize the symptoms and behaviors they are seeing in their child are the result of sleep deficiency.
Over the last half century of observing children, I have developed a very low threshold for diagnosing sleep deprivation. Basically, any child who is cranky and not obviously sick is overtired until proven otherwise. For example, colic does not appear on my frequently used, or in fact ever used, list of diagnoses. Colicky is an adjective that I may use to describe some episodic pain or behavior, but colic as a working diagnosis? Never.
When presented with a child who has already been diagnosed with “colic” by its aunt or the lady next door, this is when the astute pediatrician must be at his or her best. If a thorough history, including sleep pattern, yields no obvious evidence of illness, the next step should be some sleep coaching. However, this is where the “until proven otherwise” thing becomes important, because not providing close follow-up and continuing to keep an open mind for the less likely coexisting conditions can be dangerous and certainly not in the patient’s best interest.
For the older child crankiness, temper tantrums, mood disorders and signs and symptoms often (some might say too often) associated with attention-deficit disorder should trigger an immediate investigation of sleep habits and appropriate advice. Less well-known conditions associated with sleep deprivation are migraine and nocturnal leg pains, often mislabeled as growing pains.
The physicians planning on using sleep as a therapeutic modality is going to quickly run into several challenges. First is convincing the parents, the patient, and the family that the condition is to a greater or lesser degree the result of sleep deprivation. Because sleep is still underappreciated as a component of wellness, this is often not an easy sell.
Second, everyone must accept that altering sleep patterns regardless of age is often not easy and will not be achieved in 1 night or 2. Keeping up the drumbeat of encouragement with close follow-up is critical. Parents must be continually reminded that sleep is being used as a medicine and the dose is not measured in hours. The improvement in symptoms will tell us when enough is enough.
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.
“On which side of the bed did you get up this morning?” Obviously, your inquisitor assumes that to avoid clumsily crawling over your sleeping partner you always get up on the side with the table stacked with unread books.
You know as well as I do that you have just received a totally undisguised comment on your recent behavior that has been several shades less than cheery. You may have already sensed your own grumpiness. Do you have an explanation? Did the commute leave you with a case of unresolved road rage? Did you wake up feeling unrested? How often does that happen? Do you think you are getting enough sleep?
A few weeks ago I wrote a Letters From Maine column in which I shared a study suggesting that the regularity of an individual’s sleep pattern may, in many cases, be more important than his or her total number of hours slept. In that same column I wrote that sleep scientists don’t as yet have a good definition of sleep irregularity, nor can they give us any more than a broad range for the total number of hours a person needs to maintain wellness.
How do you determine whether you are getting enough sleep? Do you keep a chart of how many times you were asked which side of the bed you got up on in a week? Or is it how you feel in the morning? Is it when you instantly doze off any time you sit down in a quiet place?
Although many adults are clueless (or in denial) that they are sleep deprived, generally if you ask them and take a brief history they will tell you. On the other hand, determining when a child, particularly one who is preverbal, is sleep deprived is a bit more difficult. Asking the patient isn’t going to give you the answer. You must rely on parental observations. And, to some extent, this can be difficult because parents are, by definition, learning on the job. They may not realize the symptoms and behaviors they are seeing in their child are the result of sleep deficiency.
Over the last half century of observing children, I have developed a very low threshold for diagnosing sleep deprivation. Basically, any child who is cranky and not obviously sick is overtired until proven otherwise. For example, colic does not appear on my frequently used, or in fact ever used, list of diagnoses. Colicky is an adjective that I may use to describe some episodic pain or behavior, but colic as a working diagnosis? Never.
When presented with a child who has already been diagnosed with “colic” by its aunt or the lady next door, this is when the astute pediatrician must be at his or her best. If a thorough history, including sleep pattern, yields no obvious evidence of illness, the next step should be some sleep coaching. However, this is where the “until proven otherwise” thing becomes important, because not providing close follow-up and continuing to keep an open mind for the less likely coexisting conditions can be dangerous and certainly not in the patient’s best interest.
For the older child crankiness, temper tantrums, mood disorders and signs and symptoms often (some might say too often) associated with attention-deficit disorder should trigger an immediate investigation of sleep habits and appropriate advice. Less well-known conditions associated with sleep deprivation are migraine and nocturnal leg pains, often mislabeled as growing pains.
The physicians planning on using sleep as a therapeutic modality is going to quickly run into several challenges. First is convincing the parents, the patient, and the family that the condition is to a greater or lesser degree the result of sleep deprivation. Because sleep is still underappreciated as a component of wellness, this is often not an easy sell.
Second, everyone must accept that altering sleep patterns regardless of age is often not easy and will not be achieved in 1 night or 2. Keeping up the drumbeat of encouragement with close follow-up is critical. Parents must be continually reminded that sleep is being used as a medicine and the dose is not measured in hours. The improvement in symptoms will tell us when enough is enough.
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.
“On which side of the bed did you get up this morning?” Obviously, your inquisitor assumes that to avoid clumsily crawling over your sleeping partner you always get up on the side with the table stacked with unread books.
You know as well as I do that you have just received a totally undisguised comment on your recent behavior that has been several shades less than cheery. You may have already sensed your own grumpiness. Do you have an explanation? Did the commute leave you with a case of unresolved road rage? Did you wake up feeling unrested? How often does that happen? Do you think you are getting enough sleep?
A few weeks ago I wrote a Letters From Maine column in which I shared a study suggesting that the regularity of an individual’s sleep pattern may, in many cases, be more important than his or her total number of hours slept. In that same column I wrote that sleep scientists don’t as yet have a good definition of sleep irregularity, nor can they give us any more than a broad range for the total number of hours a person needs to maintain wellness.
How do you determine whether you are getting enough sleep? Do you keep a chart of how many times you were asked which side of the bed you got up on in a week? Or is it how you feel in the morning? Is it when you instantly doze off any time you sit down in a quiet place?
Although many adults are clueless (or in denial) that they are sleep deprived, generally if you ask them and take a brief history they will tell you. On the other hand, determining when a child, particularly one who is preverbal, is sleep deprived is a bit more difficult. Asking the patient isn’t going to give you the answer. You must rely on parental observations. And, to some extent, this can be difficult because parents are, by definition, learning on the job. They may not realize the symptoms and behaviors they are seeing in their child are the result of sleep deficiency.
Over the last half century of observing children, I have developed a very low threshold for diagnosing sleep deprivation. Basically, any child who is cranky and not obviously sick is overtired until proven otherwise. For example, colic does not appear on my frequently used, or in fact ever used, list of diagnoses. Colicky is an adjective that I may use to describe some episodic pain or behavior, but colic as a working diagnosis? Never.
When presented with a child who has already been diagnosed with “colic” by its aunt or the lady next door, this is when the astute pediatrician must be at his or her best. If a thorough history, including sleep pattern, yields no obvious evidence of illness, the next step should be some sleep coaching. However, this is where the “until proven otherwise” thing becomes important, because not providing close follow-up and continuing to keep an open mind for the less likely coexisting conditions can be dangerous and certainly not in the patient’s best interest.
For the older child crankiness, temper tantrums, mood disorders and signs and symptoms often (some might say too often) associated with attention-deficit disorder should trigger an immediate investigation of sleep habits and appropriate advice. Less well-known conditions associated with sleep deprivation are migraine and nocturnal leg pains, often mislabeled as growing pains.
The physicians planning on using sleep as a therapeutic modality is going to quickly run into several challenges. First is convincing the parents, the patient, and the family that the condition is to a greater or lesser degree the result of sleep deprivation. Because sleep is still underappreciated as a component of wellness, this is often not an easy sell.
Second, everyone must accept that altering sleep patterns regardless of age is often not easy and will not be achieved in 1 night or 2. Keeping up the drumbeat of encouragement with close follow-up is critical. Parents must be continually reminded that sleep is being used as a medicine and the dose is not measured in hours. The improvement in symptoms will tell us when enough is enough.
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.
Breastfeeding and colorectal cancer
I, like every pediatrician I know, believe that breast milk is the best nutrition for human newborns. Its balance of nutritive elements and its role in preventing of a wide range of illnesses are so great that we are still learning the extent of their magnitude. It just makes sense that a mother’s milk is most well suited for her baby.
I am a bit less unambiguous about breastfeeding. By that I mean the process of providing breast milk to an infant directly from its mother’s breast. Before you yank my AAP membership card, let me make it clear that I think every woman should consider breastfeeding her infant. But we must accept that in a few situations, even with help from caring and enlightened health care providers and family members, breastfeeding doesn’t work as well as we would have hoped. Fortunately, there are alternatives.
My reservations about the process are few, and until recently I have had an unwaveringly positive attitude toward the safety of breast milk. The cause of my little bit of uncertainty arrived in a recent study by two researchers at the Dana Farber Institute in Boston, in which the A younger cohort within that larger group had a dramatic 40% increased risk of developing high-risk cancer before reaching age 55.
The population the investigators studied came from the large Nurses’ Health Study II, a well-known repository of longitudinal health data. The researchers reported that they included biometric data and a large collection of lifestyle factors including smoking, alcohol intake, and diet in their calculations. However, breastfeeding continued to register the highest association. Interestingly, the investigators found that women who were breastfed for 9 months or longer had twice the risk of colorectal cancer as those who breastfed for from 4 to 8 months.
The study population was all women and predominantly white. However, in the general population it is the non-Hispanic white population that is experiencing the greatest increase in incidence. Of course, the study could not answer whether this association with breastfeeding also existed in minority populations.
The researchers suspect that what they are seeing is a reflection of the Westernization of the American lifestyle. One of the researchers is interested in the gut biome of infants and plans to further the investigation in that direction. Could some substance from the environment be concentrating in breast milk? Or is something missing in breast milk? She points out that, while formulas are generally fortified with vitamin D, breast milk is not.
As concerning as the results of this study may sound, the authors are very careful to urge mothers to continue to breastfeed and choose it as their first choice for feeding their babies. I have been pleasantly surprised that this study has not gotten widespread media attention because bad news travels fast. I have chosen to share it with you because at some point you may begin getting questions from concerned parents.
While apparently well done, this study is just the beginning. Like any good research, it poses more questions than it answers. For us as pediatricians it means we should continue to recommend breast milk as the first food. But, we must stay alert as further research looks deeper into this association.
We should also take advantage of our special access to young parents, a demographic that less frequently sees a physician for preventive care. For whatever reason colorectal cancer is occurring at younger ages. When we have the opportunity we should be reminding 40-year-olds not to wait until age 50 to screen for colorectal cancer, particularly if they have a family history of the disease.
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, like every pediatrician I know, believe that breast milk is the best nutrition for human newborns. Its balance of nutritive elements and its role in preventing of a wide range of illnesses are so great that we are still learning the extent of their magnitude. It just makes sense that a mother’s milk is most well suited for her baby.
I am a bit less unambiguous about breastfeeding. By that I mean the process of providing breast milk to an infant directly from its mother’s breast. Before you yank my AAP membership card, let me make it clear that I think every woman should consider breastfeeding her infant. But we must accept that in a few situations, even with help from caring and enlightened health care providers and family members, breastfeeding doesn’t work as well as we would have hoped. Fortunately, there are alternatives.
My reservations about the process are few, and until recently I have had an unwaveringly positive attitude toward the safety of breast milk. The cause of my little bit of uncertainty arrived in a recent study by two researchers at the Dana Farber Institute in Boston, in which the A younger cohort within that larger group had a dramatic 40% increased risk of developing high-risk cancer before reaching age 55.
The population the investigators studied came from the large Nurses’ Health Study II, a well-known repository of longitudinal health data. The researchers reported that they included biometric data and a large collection of lifestyle factors including smoking, alcohol intake, and diet in their calculations. However, breastfeeding continued to register the highest association. Interestingly, the investigators found that women who were breastfed for 9 months or longer had twice the risk of colorectal cancer as those who breastfed for from 4 to 8 months.
The study population was all women and predominantly white. However, in the general population it is the non-Hispanic white population that is experiencing the greatest increase in incidence. Of course, the study could not answer whether this association with breastfeeding also existed in minority populations.
The researchers suspect that what they are seeing is a reflection of the Westernization of the American lifestyle. One of the researchers is interested in the gut biome of infants and plans to further the investigation in that direction. Could some substance from the environment be concentrating in breast milk? Or is something missing in breast milk? She points out that, while formulas are generally fortified with vitamin D, breast milk is not.
As concerning as the results of this study may sound, the authors are very careful to urge mothers to continue to breastfeed and choose it as their first choice for feeding their babies. I have been pleasantly surprised that this study has not gotten widespread media attention because bad news travels fast. I have chosen to share it with you because at some point you may begin getting questions from concerned parents.
While apparently well done, this study is just the beginning. Like any good research, it poses more questions than it answers. For us as pediatricians it means we should continue to recommend breast milk as the first food. But, we must stay alert as further research looks deeper into this association.
We should also take advantage of our special access to young parents, a demographic that less frequently sees a physician for preventive care. For whatever reason colorectal cancer is occurring at younger ages. When we have the opportunity we should be reminding 40-year-olds not to wait until age 50 to screen for colorectal cancer, particularly if they have a family history of the disease.
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, like every pediatrician I know, believe that breast milk is the best nutrition for human newborns. Its balance of nutritive elements and its role in preventing of a wide range of illnesses are so great that we are still learning the extent of their magnitude. It just makes sense that a mother’s milk is most well suited for her baby.
I am a bit less unambiguous about breastfeeding. By that I mean the process of providing breast milk to an infant directly from its mother’s breast. Before you yank my AAP membership card, let me make it clear that I think every woman should consider breastfeeding her infant. But we must accept that in a few situations, even with help from caring and enlightened health care providers and family members, breastfeeding doesn’t work as well as we would have hoped. Fortunately, there are alternatives.
My reservations about the process are few, and until recently I have had an unwaveringly positive attitude toward the safety of breast milk. The cause of my little bit of uncertainty arrived in a recent study by two researchers at the Dana Farber Institute in Boston, in which the A younger cohort within that larger group had a dramatic 40% increased risk of developing high-risk cancer before reaching age 55.
The population the investigators studied came from the large Nurses’ Health Study II, a well-known repository of longitudinal health data. The researchers reported that they included biometric data and a large collection of lifestyle factors including smoking, alcohol intake, and diet in their calculations. However, breastfeeding continued to register the highest association. Interestingly, the investigators found that women who were breastfed for 9 months or longer had twice the risk of colorectal cancer as those who breastfed for from 4 to 8 months.
The study population was all women and predominantly white. However, in the general population it is the non-Hispanic white population that is experiencing the greatest increase in incidence. Of course, the study could not answer whether this association with breastfeeding also existed in minority populations.
The researchers suspect that what they are seeing is a reflection of the Westernization of the American lifestyle. One of the researchers is interested in the gut biome of infants and plans to further the investigation in that direction. Could some substance from the environment be concentrating in breast milk? Or is something missing in breast milk? She points out that, while formulas are generally fortified with vitamin D, breast milk is not.
As concerning as the results of this study may sound, the authors are very careful to urge mothers to continue to breastfeed and choose it as their first choice for feeding their babies. I have been pleasantly surprised that this study has not gotten widespread media attention because bad news travels fast. I have chosen to share it with you because at some point you may begin getting questions from concerned parents.
While apparently well done, this study is just the beginning. Like any good research, it poses more questions than it answers. For us as pediatricians it means we should continue to recommend breast milk as the first food. But, we must stay alert as further research looks deeper into this association.
We should also take advantage of our special access to young parents, a demographic that less frequently sees a physician for preventive care. For whatever reason colorectal cancer is occurring at younger ages. When we have the opportunity we should be reminding 40-year-olds not to wait until age 50 to screen for colorectal cancer, particularly if they have a family history of the disease.
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.
Right under our noses
Until a couple of weeks ago I considered myself a COVID virgin. I had navigated a full 36 months without a positive test, despite cohabiting with my wife in a 2,500-square-foot house during her bout with the SARS-CoV-2 virus last year. I have been reasonably careful, a situational mask wearer, and good about avoiding poorly ventilated crowded spaces. Of course I was fully vaccinated but was waiting until we had gotten closer to a December trip before getting the newest booster.
I had always been quietly smug about my good luck. And, I was pretty sure that luck had been the major contributor to my run of good health. Nonetheless, in my private moments I often wondered if I somehow had inherited or acquired an unusual defense against the virus that had been getting the best of my peers. One rather far-fetched explanation that kept popping out of my subconscious involved my profuse and persistent runny nose.
Like a fair number in my demographic, I have what I have self-diagnosed as vasomotor rhinitis. In the cooler months and particularly when I am active outdoors, my nose runs like a faucet. I half-jokingly told my wife after a particularly drippy bike ride on a frigid November afternoon that even the most robust virus couldn’t possibly have survived the swim upstream against torrent of mucus splashing onto the handlebars of my bike.
A recent study published in the journal Cell suggests that my off-the-wall explanation for my COVID resistance wasn’t quite so hair-brained. The investigators haven’t found that septuagenarian adults with high-volume runny noses are drowning the SARS-Co- 2 virus before it can do any damage. However, the researchers did discover that, This first line of defense seems to be more effective than in adults, where the virus can more easily slip through into the bloodstream, sometimes with a dramatic release of circulating cytokines, which occasionally create problems of their own. Children also release cytokines, but this is predominantly in their nose, where it appears to be less damaging. Interestingly, in children this initial response persists for around 300 days while in adults the immune response experiences a much more rapid decline. I guess this means we have to chalk one more up for snotty nose kids.
However, the results of this study also suggest that we should be giving more attention to the development of nasal vaccines. I recall that nearly 3 years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic, scientists using a ferret model had developed an effective nasal vaccine. I’m not sure why this faded out of the picture, but it feels like it’s time to turn the spotlight on this line of research again.
I suspect that in addition to being more effective, a nasal vaccine may gain more support among the antivaxxer population, many of whom I suspect are really needle phobics hiding behind a smoke screen of anti-science double talk.
At any rate, I will continue to search for articles that support my contention that my high-flow rhinorrhea is protecting me. I have always been told that a cold nose was the sign of a healthy dog. I’m just trying to prove that the same is true for us old guys with clear runny noses.
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.
Until a couple of weeks ago I considered myself a COVID virgin. I had navigated a full 36 months without a positive test, despite cohabiting with my wife in a 2,500-square-foot house during her bout with the SARS-CoV-2 virus last year. I have been reasonably careful, a situational mask wearer, and good about avoiding poorly ventilated crowded spaces. Of course I was fully vaccinated but was waiting until we had gotten closer to a December trip before getting the newest booster.
I had always been quietly smug about my good luck. And, I was pretty sure that luck had been the major contributor to my run of good health. Nonetheless, in my private moments I often wondered if I somehow had inherited or acquired an unusual defense against the virus that had been getting the best of my peers. One rather far-fetched explanation that kept popping out of my subconscious involved my profuse and persistent runny nose.
Like a fair number in my demographic, I have what I have self-diagnosed as vasomotor rhinitis. In the cooler months and particularly when I am active outdoors, my nose runs like a faucet. I half-jokingly told my wife after a particularly drippy bike ride on a frigid November afternoon that even the most robust virus couldn’t possibly have survived the swim upstream against torrent of mucus splashing onto the handlebars of my bike.
A recent study published in the journal Cell suggests that my off-the-wall explanation for my COVID resistance wasn’t quite so hair-brained. The investigators haven’t found that septuagenarian adults with high-volume runny noses are drowning the SARS-Co- 2 virus before it can do any damage. However, the researchers did discover that, This first line of defense seems to be more effective than in adults, where the virus can more easily slip through into the bloodstream, sometimes with a dramatic release of circulating cytokines, which occasionally create problems of their own. Children also release cytokines, but this is predominantly in their nose, where it appears to be less damaging. Interestingly, in children this initial response persists for around 300 days while in adults the immune response experiences a much more rapid decline. I guess this means we have to chalk one more up for snotty nose kids.
However, the results of this study also suggest that we should be giving more attention to the development of nasal vaccines. I recall that nearly 3 years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic, scientists using a ferret model had developed an effective nasal vaccine. I’m not sure why this faded out of the picture, but it feels like it’s time to turn the spotlight on this line of research again.
I suspect that in addition to being more effective, a nasal vaccine may gain more support among the antivaxxer population, many of whom I suspect are really needle phobics hiding behind a smoke screen of anti-science double talk.
At any rate, I will continue to search for articles that support my contention that my high-flow rhinorrhea is protecting me. I have always been told that a cold nose was the sign of a healthy dog. I’m just trying to prove that the same is true for us old guys with clear runny noses.
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.
Until a couple of weeks ago I considered myself a COVID virgin. I had navigated a full 36 months without a positive test, despite cohabiting with my wife in a 2,500-square-foot house during her bout with the SARS-CoV-2 virus last year. I have been reasonably careful, a situational mask wearer, and good about avoiding poorly ventilated crowded spaces. Of course I was fully vaccinated but was waiting until we had gotten closer to a December trip before getting the newest booster.
I had always been quietly smug about my good luck. And, I was pretty sure that luck had been the major contributor to my run of good health. Nonetheless, in my private moments I often wondered if I somehow had inherited or acquired an unusual defense against the virus that had been getting the best of my peers. One rather far-fetched explanation that kept popping out of my subconscious involved my profuse and persistent runny nose.
Like a fair number in my demographic, I have what I have self-diagnosed as vasomotor rhinitis. In the cooler months and particularly when I am active outdoors, my nose runs like a faucet. I half-jokingly told my wife after a particularly drippy bike ride on a frigid November afternoon that even the most robust virus couldn’t possibly have survived the swim upstream against torrent of mucus splashing onto the handlebars of my bike.
A recent study published in the journal Cell suggests that my off-the-wall explanation for my COVID resistance wasn’t quite so hair-brained. The investigators haven’t found that septuagenarian adults with high-volume runny noses are drowning the SARS-Co- 2 virus before it can do any damage. However, the researchers did discover that, This first line of defense seems to be more effective than in adults, where the virus can more easily slip through into the bloodstream, sometimes with a dramatic release of circulating cytokines, which occasionally create problems of their own. Children also release cytokines, but this is predominantly in their nose, where it appears to be less damaging. Interestingly, in children this initial response persists for around 300 days while in adults the immune response experiences a much more rapid decline. I guess this means we have to chalk one more up for snotty nose kids.
However, the results of this study also suggest that we should be giving more attention to the development of nasal vaccines. I recall that nearly 3 years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic, scientists using a ferret model had developed an effective nasal vaccine. I’m not sure why this faded out of the picture, but it feels like it’s time to turn the spotlight on this line of research again.
I suspect that in addition to being more effective, a nasal vaccine may gain more support among the antivaxxer population, many of whom I suspect are really needle phobics hiding behind a smoke screen of anti-science double talk.
At any rate, I will continue to search for articles that support my contention that my high-flow rhinorrhea is protecting me. I have always been told that a cold nose was the sign of a healthy dog. I’m just trying to prove that the same is true for us old guys with clear runny noses.
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.