Opinion

An 11-year-old was caring for his toddler brother. Both were fending for themselves in a cell with dozens of other children. The little one was quiet with matted hair, a hacking cough, muddy pants, and eyes that fluttered with fatigue.

As the two brothers were reportedly interviewed, one fell asleep on two office chairs drawn together, probably the most comfortable bed he had used in weeks. They had been separated from an 18-year-old uncle and sent to the Clint Border Patrol Station in Texas. When they were interviewed in the news report, they had been there 3 weeks and counting.

Per news reports this summer, preteen migrant children have been asked to care for toddlers not related to them with no assistance from adults, and no beds, no food, and no change of clothing. Children were sleeping on concrete floors and eating the same unpalatable and unhealthy foods for close to a month: instant oatmeal, instant soup, and previously frozen burritos. Babies were roaming around in dirty diapers, fending for themselves, foraging for food. Two- and 3-year-old toddlers were sick with no adult comforting them.

When some people visited the border patrol station, they said they saw children trapped in cages like animals. Some were keening in pain while pining for their parents from whom they had been separated.

These children were forcibly separated from parents. In addition, they face living conditions that include hunger, dehydration, and lack of hygiene, to name a few. This sounds like some fantastical nightmare from a war-torn third-world country – but no these circumstances are real, and they are here in the USA.

We witness helplessly the helplessness created by a man-made disaster striking the world’s most vulnerable creature: the human child. This specter afflicting thousands of migrant children either seeking asylum or an immigrant status has far-reaching implications. This is even more ironic, given that, as a nation, we have embraced the concept of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and their impact on lifelong health challenges. Most of us reel with horror as these tales make their way to national headlines. But are we as a nation complicit in watching like bystanders while a generation of children is placed at risk from experiencing the long-term effects of ACEs on their physical and emotional health?

Surely if the psychological implications of ACEs do not warrant a change in course, the mere economics of the costs arising from the suffering caused by totally preventable medical problems in adulthood should be considered in policy decisions. However, that is beyond the scope of this commentary.

The human child is so utterly dependent on parents. He does not have the fairly quick physical independence from parents that we see in the animal kingdom. As soon as a child is born, a curious process of attachment begins within the mom and baby dyad, and eventually, this bond engulfs the father as well. The baby depends on the parent to understand his needs: be it when to eat, when he wants to be touched, when he needs to be left alone, when he needs to be cleaned or fed. Optimum crying serves so many purposes, and most parents are exquisitely attuned to the baby’s cry. From this relationship emerges a stable worldview, and, among many things, a stable neuroendocrine system.

Unique cultural backgrounds of individuals create the scaffolding for human variability, which in turn, confers a richness to the human race. However, development proceeds in a fairly uniform and universal fashion for children, regardless of where they come from. The progression of brain and body development moves lockstep with each other responding to a complex interplay between genetics, environment, and neurohormonal factors. It is remarkable just how resilient the human baby is in the face of the challenges that it often faces: accidental injury, illness, and even benign neglect.

However, there comes a breaking point similar to that described in the stories above, where the stress is toxic and intolerable. It is continuous, and it is relentless in its capacity to bathe the developing brain and body of the child with noxious endogenous substances that cause cell death and subsequent atrophy that is potentially irreversible.


We see such children in our clinics downstream: at ages 8, 13, or 16, after they have lost their ability to modulate emotions and are highly aggressive, or are withdrawn and depressed – or in the juvenile justice system after having repeatedly but impulsively violated the law. In other words, repeated trauma changes the wiring of the brain and neuromodulatory capacity. There is literature suggesting that traumatized children carry within them modified genes that affect their capacity to be nurturing parents. In other words, trauma has the potential to lead to multigenerational transmission of the experiences of suffering and often a psychological incapacity to parent – putting subsequent generations at risk.

So what should we do? Be bystanders, or become involved professionals?

The need to create a supportive safety net for these children is essential. Ideally, they should be reunited with their parents. The reunification of children with their parents is an absolute must if it can be done. Their parents are alive somewhere – and the best mitigators of the emotional damage already done. A strong case needs to be made for reunification, otherwise parental separation, deprivation on multiple levels, such as what these children are experiencing, will create a generation of compromised children.

A second-best option is that an emotional and physical safety net should be created that mimics a family for each child. Children need predictability and stability of caregivers with whom they can form an affective bond. This is essential for them to negotiate the cycle of inconsolable weeping, searching for their parent/s, reconciling the loss, and either reaching a level of adaptation or being engulfed in the despair that these toddlers, children, and teens continually face. In addition, these individuals/teams first and foremost should plan on giving equal consideration to the physical and emotional needs of the children.

Trained mental health professionals, particularly those who understand child development, should be central players in the planning process. The damage is done in the form of subjecting children to all that is detrimental to development. Now, steady, regular presence of shift workers who understand the importance of the continuity of relationships and who cannot only advocate for but also provide for the nutritional, sleep, and hygiene needs of the child concurrently is necessary. The children need soft and nurturing touch, predictability of routines, adequate sleep, adequate wholesome nutrition, and familiarity of faces who should make a commitment of spending no less than 6 to 9 months at a stretch in these camps.

Although the task appears herculean, drastic problems need drastic remedies, as the entire life of every child is at stake. These workers should be trained in mental health and physical health first aid, so they can recognize the gradations of despair, detachment, and acting out in children and know how to triage the children to appropriate trained mental health and medical clinicians. It is to be expected that both medical and mental health problems will be concentrated in this population, and planning for staffing such camps should anticipate that. This safety net should be created in all facilities accepting these children.
 

Dr. Sood is professor of psychiatry and pediatrics, and senior professor of child mental health policy at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond.

An 11-year-old was caring for his toddler brother. Both were fending for themselves in a cell with dozens of other children. The little one was quiet with matted hair, a hacking cough, muddy pants, and eyes that fluttered with fatigue.

As the two brothers were reportedly interviewed, one fell asleep on two office chairs drawn together, probably the most comfortable bed he had used in weeks. They had been separated from an 18-year-old uncle and sent to the Clint Border Patrol Station in Texas. When they were interviewed in the news report, they had been there 3 weeks and counting.

Per news reports this summer, preteen migrant children have been asked to care for toddlers not related to them with no assistance from adults, and no beds, no food, and no change of clothing. Children were sleeping on concrete floors and eating the same unpalatable and unhealthy foods for close to a month: instant oatmeal, instant soup, and previously frozen burritos. Babies were roaming around in dirty diapers, fending for themselves, foraging for food. Two- and 3-year-old toddlers were sick with no adult comforting them.

When some people visited the border patrol station, they said they saw children trapped in cages like animals. Some were keening in pain while pining for their parents from whom they had been separated.

These children were forcibly separated from parents. In addition, they face living conditions that include hunger, dehydration, and lack of hygiene, to name a few. This sounds like some fantastical nightmare from a war-torn third-world country – but no these circumstances are real, and they are here in the USA.

We witness helplessly the helplessness created by a man-made disaster striking the world’s most vulnerable creature: the human child. This specter afflicting thousands of migrant children either seeking asylum or an immigrant status has far-reaching implications. This is even more ironic, given that, as a nation, we have embraced the concept of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and their impact on lifelong health challenges. Most of us reel with horror as these tales make their way to national headlines. But are we as a nation complicit in watching like bystanders while a generation of children is placed at risk from experiencing the long-term effects of ACEs on their physical and emotional health?

Surely if the psychological implications of ACEs do not warrant a change in course, the mere economics of the costs arising from the suffering caused by totally preventable medical problems in adulthood should be considered in policy decisions. However, that is beyond the scope of this commentary.

The human child is so utterly dependent on parents. He does not have the fairly quick physical independence from parents that we see in the animal kingdom. As soon as a child is born, a curious process of attachment begins within the mom and baby dyad, and eventually, this bond engulfs the father as well. The baby depends on the parent to understand his needs: be it when to eat, when he wants to be touched, when he needs to be left alone, when he needs to be cleaned or fed. Optimum crying serves so many purposes, and most parents are exquisitely attuned to the baby’s cry. From this relationship emerges a stable worldview, and, among many things, a stable neuroendocrine system.

Unique cultural backgrounds of individuals create the scaffolding for human variability, which in turn, confers a richness to the human race. However, development proceeds in a fairly uniform and universal fashion for children, regardless of where they come from. The progression of brain and body development moves lockstep with each other responding to a complex interplay between genetics, environment, and neurohormonal factors. It is remarkable just how resilient the human baby is in the face of the challenges that it often faces: accidental injury, illness, and even benign neglect.

However, there comes a breaking point similar to that described in the stories above, where the stress is toxic and intolerable. It is continuous, and it is relentless in its capacity to bathe the developing brain and body of the child with noxious endogenous substances that cause cell death and subsequent atrophy that is potentially irreversible.


We see such children in our clinics downstream: at ages 8, 13, or 16, after they have lost their ability to modulate emotions and are highly aggressive, or are withdrawn and depressed – or in the juvenile justice system after having repeatedly but impulsively violated the law. In other words, repeated trauma changes the wiring of the brain and neuromodulatory capacity. There is literature suggesting that traumatized children carry within them modified genes that affect their capacity to be nurturing parents. In other words, trauma has the potential to lead to multigenerational transmission of the experiences of suffering and often a psychological incapacity to parent – putting subsequent generations at risk.

So what should we do? Be bystanders, or become involved professionals?

The need to create a supportive safety net for these children is essential. Ideally, they should be reunited with their parents. The reunification of children with their parents is an absolute must if it can be done. Their parents are alive somewhere – and the best mitigators of the emotional damage already done. A strong case needs to be made for reunification, otherwise parental separation, deprivation on multiple levels, such as what these children are experiencing, will create a generation of compromised children.

A second-best option is that an emotional and physical safety net should be created that mimics a family for each child. Children need predictability and stability of caregivers with whom they can form an affective bond. This is essential for them to negotiate the cycle of inconsolable weeping, searching for their parent/s, reconciling the loss, and either reaching a level of adaptation or being engulfed in the despair that these toddlers, children, and teens continually face. In addition, these individuals/teams first and foremost should plan on giving equal consideration to the physical and emotional needs of the children.

Trained mental health professionals, particularly those who understand child development, should be central players in the planning process. The damage is done in the form of subjecting children to all that is detrimental to development. Now, steady, regular presence of shift workers who understand the importance of the continuity of relationships and who cannot only advocate for but also provide for the nutritional, sleep, and hygiene needs of the child concurrently is necessary. The children need soft and nurturing touch, predictability of routines, adequate sleep, adequate wholesome nutrition, and familiarity of faces who should make a commitment of spending no less than 6 to 9 months at a stretch in these camps.

Although the task appears herculean, drastic problems need drastic remedies, as the entire life of every child is at stake. These workers should be trained in mental health and physical health first aid, so they can recognize the gradations of despair, detachment, and acting out in children and know how to triage the children to appropriate trained mental health and medical clinicians. It is to be expected that both medical and mental health problems will be concentrated in this population, and planning for staffing such camps should anticipate that. This safety net should be created in all facilities accepting these children.
 

Dr. Sood is professor of psychiatry and pediatrics, and senior professor of child mental health policy at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond.

An 11-year-old was caring for his toddler brother. Both were fending for themselves in a cell with dozens of other children. The little one was quiet with matted hair, a hacking cough, muddy pants, and eyes that fluttered with fatigue.

As the two brothers were reportedly interviewed, one fell asleep on two office chairs drawn together, probably the most comfortable bed he had used in weeks. They had been separated from an 18-year-old uncle and sent to the Clint Border Patrol Station in Texas. When they were interviewed in the news report, they had been there 3 weeks and counting.

Per news reports this summer, preteen migrant children have been asked to care for toddlers not related to them with no assistance from adults, and no beds, no food, and no change of clothing. Children were sleeping on concrete floors and eating the same unpalatable and unhealthy foods for close to a month: instant oatmeal, instant soup, and previously frozen burritos. Babies were roaming around in dirty diapers, fending for themselves, foraging for food. Two- and 3-year-old toddlers were sick with no adult comforting them.

When some people visited the border patrol station, they said they saw children trapped in cages like animals. Some were keening in pain while pining for their parents from whom they had been separated.

These children were forcibly separated from parents. In addition, they face living conditions that include hunger, dehydration, and lack of hygiene, to name a few. This sounds like some fantastical nightmare from a war-torn third-world country – but no these circumstances are real, and they are here in the USA.

We witness helplessly the helplessness created by a man-made disaster striking the world’s most vulnerable creature: the human child. This specter afflicting thousands of migrant children either seeking asylum or an immigrant status has far-reaching implications. This is even more ironic, given that, as a nation, we have embraced the concept of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and their impact on lifelong health challenges. Most of us reel with horror as these tales make their way to national headlines. But are we as a nation complicit in watching like bystanders while a generation of children is placed at risk from experiencing the long-term effects of ACEs on their physical and emotional health?

Surely if the psychological implications of ACEs do not warrant a change in course, the mere economics of the costs arising from the suffering caused by totally preventable medical problems in adulthood should be considered in policy decisions. However, that is beyond the scope of this commentary.

The human child is so utterly dependent on parents. He does not have the fairly quick physical independence from parents that we see in the animal kingdom. As soon as a child is born, a curious process of attachment begins within the mom and baby dyad, and eventually, this bond engulfs the father as well. The baby depends on the parent to understand his needs: be it when to eat, when he wants to be touched, when he needs to be left alone, when he needs to be cleaned or fed. Optimum crying serves so many purposes, and most parents are exquisitely attuned to the baby’s cry. From this relationship emerges a stable worldview, and, among many things, a stable neuroendocrine system.

Unique cultural backgrounds of individuals create the scaffolding for human variability, which in turn, confers a richness to the human race. However, development proceeds in a fairly uniform and universal fashion for children, regardless of where they come from. The progression of brain and body development moves lockstep with each other responding to a complex interplay between genetics, environment, and neurohormonal factors. It is remarkable just how resilient the human baby is in the face of the challenges that it often faces: accidental injury, illness, and even benign neglect.

However, there comes a breaking point similar to that described in the stories above, where the stress is toxic and intolerable. It is continuous, and it is relentless in its capacity to bathe the developing brain and body of the child with noxious endogenous substances that cause cell death and subsequent atrophy that is potentially irreversible.


We see such children in our clinics downstream: at ages 8, 13, or 16, after they have lost their ability to modulate emotions and are highly aggressive, or are withdrawn and depressed – or in the juvenile justice system after having repeatedly but impulsively violated the law. In other words, repeated trauma changes the wiring of the brain and neuromodulatory capacity. There is literature suggesting that traumatized children carry within them modified genes that affect their capacity to be nurturing parents. In other words, trauma has the potential to lead to multigenerational transmission of the experiences of suffering and often a psychological incapacity to parent – putting subsequent generations at risk.

So what should we do? Be bystanders, or become involved professionals?

The need to create a supportive safety net for these children is essential. Ideally, they should be reunited with their parents. The reunification of children with their parents is an absolute must if it can be done. Their parents are alive somewhere – and the best mitigators of the emotional damage already done. A strong case needs to be made for reunification, otherwise parental separation, deprivation on multiple levels, such as what these children are experiencing, will create a generation of compromised children.

A second-best option is that an emotional and physical safety net should be created that mimics a family for each child. Children need predictability and stability of caregivers with whom they can form an affective bond. This is essential for them to negotiate the cycle of inconsolable weeping, searching for their parent/s, reconciling the loss, and either reaching a level of adaptation or being engulfed in the despair that these toddlers, children, and teens continually face. In addition, these individuals/teams first and foremost should plan on giving equal consideration to the physical and emotional needs of the children.

Trained mental health professionals, particularly those who understand child development, should be central players in the planning process. The damage is done in the form of subjecting children to all that is detrimental to development. Now, steady, regular presence of shift workers who understand the importance of the continuity of relationships and who cannot only advocate for but also provide for the nutritional, sleep, and hygiene needs of the child concurrently is necessary. The children need soft and nurturing touch, predictability of routines, adequate sleep, adequate wholesome nutrition, and familiarity of faces who should make a commitment of spending no less than 6 to 9 months at a stretch in these camps.

Although the task appears herculean, drastic problems need drastic remedies, as the entire life of every child is at stake. These workers should be trained in mental health and physical health first aid, so they can recognize the gradations of despair, detachment, and acting out in children and know how to triage the children to appropriate trained mental health and medical clinicians. It is to be expected that both medical and mental health problems will be concentrated in this population, and planning for staffing such camps should anticipate that. This safety net should be created in all facilities accepting these children.
 

Dr. Sood is professor of psychiatry and pediatrics, and senior professor of child mental health policy at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond.

 

A landmark study of advanced endometrial cancer, GOG 258, was published in the New England Journal of Medicine this summer.¹ This clinical trial compared the use of carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy with a combination of chemotherapy with external beam radiation, exploring the notion of “more is better.” The results of the trial revealed that the “more” (chemotherapy with external beam radiation) was no better than chemotherapy alone with respect to overall survival. These results have challenged a creeping dogma in gynecologic oncology, which has seen many providers embrace combination therapy, particularly for patients with stage III (node-positive) endometrial cancer, a group of patients who made up approximately three-quarters of GOG 258’s study population. Many have been left searching for justification of their early adoption of combination therapy before the results of a trial such as this were available. For me it also raised a slightly different question: In the light of these results, what IS the role of para-aortic lymphadenectomy in the staging of endometrial cancers? If radiation to the nodal basins is no longer part of adjuvant therapy, then is pelvic lymphadenectomy or pelvic-only sentinel lymph node (SLN) biopsy enough in determining which patients need chemotherapy?

It was in the 1980s that the removal of clinically normal para-aortic lymph nodes (those residing between the renal and proximal common iliac vessels) became a part of surgical staging. This practice was endorsed by the International Federation of Gynecology and Obstetrics (FIGO) and the Gynecologic Oncology Group (GOG) surgical committee in response to findings that 11% of women with clinical stage I endometrial cancer had microscopic lymph node metastases which were discovered only with routine pathologic evaluation of these tissues. Among those with pelvic lymph node metastases (stage IIIC disease), approximately one-third also harbored disease in para-aortic nodal regions.² Among all patients with endometrial cancer, including those with low-grade disease, only a small fraction (approximately 2%) have isolated para-aortic lymph nodes (positive para-aortic nodes, but negative pelvic nodes). However, among patients with deeply invasive higher-grade tumors, the likelihood of discovering isolated para-aortic metastases is higher at approximately 16%.³ Therefore, the dominant pattern of lymph node metastases and lymphatic dissemination of endometrial cancer appears to be via the parametrial channels laterally towards the pelvic basins, and then sequentially to the para-aortic regions. The direct lymphatic pathway to the para-aortic basins from the uterine fundus through the adnexal lymphatics misses the pelvic regions altogether and may seen logical, but actually is observed fairly infrequently.⁴

Over the subsequent decades, there have been debates and schools of thought regarding what is the optimal degree of lymphatic dissection for endometrial cancer staging. Some advocated for full pelvic and infrarenal para-aortic nodal dissections in all patients, including even those in the lowest risk for metastases. Others advocated for a more limited, inframesenteric para-aortic nodal dissection, although the origins of such a distinction appear to be largely arbitrary. The inferior mesenteric artery is not a physiologic landmark for lymphatic pathways, and approximately half of para-aortic metastases are located above the level of the inferior mesenteric artery. This limited sampling may have been preferred because of relative ease of dissection rather than diagnostic or therapeutic efficacy.

As the population became more obese, making para-aortic nodal dissections less feasible, and laparoscopic staging became accepted as the standard of care in endometrial cancer staging, there was a further push towards limiting the scope of lymphadenectomy. Selective algorithms, such as the so-called “Mayo clinic criteria,” were widely adopted. In this approach, gynecologic oncologists perform full pelvic and infrarenal para-aortic lymphadenectomies but only in the presence of a high-risk uterine feature such as tumor size greater than 2 cm, deep myometrial invasion, or grade 3 histology.³ While this reduced the number of para-aortic dissections being performed, it did not eliminate them, as approximately 40% of patients with endometrial cancer meet at least one of those criteria.

At this same time, we learned something else critical about the benefits, or lack thereof, of lymphadenectomy. Two landmark surgical-staging trials were published in 2009 which randomly assigned women to hysterectomy with lymphadenectomy or hysterectomy alone, and found no survival benefit for lymphadenectomy.^5,6 While these trial results initially were met with noisy backlash, particularly from those who had legitimate concerns regarding study design and conclusions that reach beyond the scope of this column, ultimately their findings (that there is no therapeutic benefit to surgically removing clinically normal lymph nodes) has become largely accepted. The subsequent findings of the Laparoscopic Approach to Cancer of the Endometrium (LACE) trial further support this, as there was no difference in survival found between patients who were randomly assigned to laparoscopic versus open staging for endometrial cancer, even despite a significantly lower rate of lymphadenectomy among the laparoscopic arm.⁷

SLN biopsy, in which the specific nodes which drain the uterus are selectively removed, represents the most recent development in lymph node assessment for endometrial cancer. On average, only three lymph nodes are removed per patient, and para-aortic nodes infrequently are removed, because it is rare that lymphatic pathways drain directly into the aortic basins after cervical injection. Yet despite this more limited dissection of lymph nodes, especially para-aortic, with SLN biopsy, surgeons still observe similar rates of IIIC disease, compared with full lymphadenectomy, suggesting that the presence or absence of lymphatic metastases still is able to be adequately determined. SLN biopsy misses only 3% of lymphatic disease.⁸ What is of particular interest to practitioners of the SLN approach is that “atypical” pathways are discovered approximately 20% of the time, and nodes are harvested from locations such as the presacral space or medial to the internal iliac vessels. These nodes are in locations previously overlooked by even the most comprehensive pelvic and para-aortic lymphadenectomy. Therefore, while the para-aortic nodes may not be systematically removed with SLN biopsy, new and arguably more relevant regions are interrogated, which might explain its equivalent diagnostic virtue.

With this evolution in surgical-staging practice, what we have come to recognize is that the role of lymph node assessment is predominantly, if not exclusively, diagnostic. It can help us determine which patients are at risk for distant relapse and therefore candidates for systemic therapy (chemotherapy), versus those whose risk is predominantly of local relapse and can be adequately treated with local therapies alone, such as vaginal radiation. This brings us to the results of GOG 258. If defining the specific and complete extent of lymph node metastases (as if that was ever truly what surgeons were doing) is no longer necessary to guide the prescription and extent of external beam radiation, then lymph node dissection need only inform us of whether or not there are nodal metastases, not specifically the location of those nodal metastases. The prescription of chemotherapy is the same whether the disease is limited to the pelvic nodes or also includes the para-aortic nodes. While GOG 258 discovered more para-aortic failures among the chemotherapy-alone group, suggesting there may be some therapeutic role of radiation in preventing this, it should be noted that these para-aortic relapses did not negatively impact relapse-free survival, and these patients still can presumably be salvaged with external beam radiation to the site of para-aortic relapse.

It would seem logical that the results of GOG 258 further limit the potential role of para-aortic lymphadenectomy in women with clinical stage I disease. Perhaps para-aortic dissection can be limited to women who are at highest risk for isolated para-aortic disease, such as those with deeply invasive high-grade tumors not successfully mapped with the highly targeted sentinel node biopsy technique? Most clinicians look forward to an era in which we no longer rely on crude dissections of disease-free tissue just to prove they are disease free, but instead can utilize more sophisticated diagnostic methods to recognize disseminated disease.
 

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Email her at obnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. N Engl J Med. 2019 Jun 13;380(24):2317-26.

2. Cancer. 1987 Oct 15;60(8 Suppl):2035-41.

3. Gynecol Oncol. 2008;109(1):11-8.

4. Int J Gynecol Cancer. 2019 Mar;29(3):613-21.

5. J Natl Cancer Inst. 2008 Dec 3;100(23):1707-16.

6. Lancet. 2009 Jan 10;373(9658):125-36.

7. JAMA. 2017 Mar 28;317(12):1224-33.

8. Lancet Oncol. 2017 Mar;18(3):384-92.

 

A landmark study of advanced endometrial cancer, GOG 258, was published in the New England Journal of Medicine this summer.¹ This clinical trial compared the use of carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy with a combination of chemotherapy with external beam radiation, exploring the notion of “more is better.” The results of the trial revealed that the “more” (chemotherapy with external beam radiation) was no better than chemotherapy alone with respect to overall survival. These results have challenged a creeping dogma in gynecologic oncology, which has seen many providers embrace combination therapy, particularly for patients with stage III (node-positive) endometrial cancer, a group of patients who made up approximately three-quarters of GOG 258’s study population. Many have been left searching for justification of their early adoption of combination therapy before the results of a trial such as this were available. For me it also raised a slightly different question: In the light of these results, what IS the role of para-aortic lymphadenectomy in the staging of endometrial cancers? If radiation to the nodal basins is no longer part of adjuvant therapy, then is pelvic lymphadenectomy or pelvic-only sentinel lymph node (SLN) biopsy enough in determining which patients need chemotherapy?

It was in the 1980s that the removal of clinically normal para-aortic lymph nodes (those residing between the renal and proximal common iliac vessels) became a part of surgical staging. This practice was endorsed by the International Federation of Gynecology and Obstetrics (FIGO) and the Gynecologic Oncology Group (GOG) surgical committee in response to findings that 11% of women with clinical stage I endometrial cancer had microscopic lymph node metastases which were discovered only with routine pathologic evaluation of these tissues. Among those with pelvic lymph node metastases (stage IIIC disease), approximately one-third also harbored disease in para-aortic nodal regions.² Among all patients with endometrial cancer, including those with low-grade disease, only a small fraction (approximately 2%) have isolated para-aortic lymph nodes (positive para-aortic nodes, but negative pelvic nodes). However, among patients with deeply invasive higher-grade tumors, the likelihood of discovering isolated para-aortic metastases is higher at approximately 16%.³ Therefore, the dominant pattern of lymph node metastases and lymphatic dissemination of endometrial cancer appears to be via the parametrial channels laterally towards the pelvic basins, and then sequentially to the para-aortic regions. The direct lymphatic pathway to the para-aortic basins from the uterine fundus through the adnexal lymphatics misses the pelvic regions altogether and may seen logical, but actually is observed fairly infrequently.⁴

Over the subsequent decades, there have been debates and schools of thought regarding what is the optimal degree of lymphatic dissection for endometrial cancer staging. Some advocated for full pelvic and infrarenal para-aortic nodal dissections in all patients, including even those in the lowest risk for metastases. Others advocated for a more limited, inframesenteric para-aortic nodal dissection, although the origins of such a distinction appear to be largely arbitrary. The inferior mesenteric artery is not a physiologic landmark for lymphatic pathways, and approximately half of para-aortic metastases are located above the level of the inferior mesenteric artery. This limited sampling may have been preferred because of relative ease of dissection rather than diagnostic or therapeutic efficacy.

As the population became more obese, making para-aortic nodal dissections less feasible, and laparoscopic staging became accepted as the standard of care in endometrial cancer staging, there was a further push towards limiting the scope of lymphadenectomy. Selective algorithms, such as the so-called “Mayo clinic criteria,” were widely adopted. In this approach, gynecologic oncologists perform full pelvic and infrarenal para-aortic lymphadenectomies but only in the presence of a high-risk uterine feature such as tumor size greater than 2 cm, deep myometrial invasion, or grade 3 histology.³ While this reduced the number of para-aortic dissections being performed, it did not eliminate them, as approximately 40% of patients with endometrial cancer meet at least one of those criteria.

At this same time, we learned something else critical about the benefits, or lack thereof, of lymphadenectomy. Two landmark surgical-staging trials were published in 2009 which randomly assigned women to hysterectomy with lymphadenectomy or hysterectomy alone, and found no survival benefit for lymphadenectomy.^5,6 While these trial results initially were met with noisy backlash, particularly from those who had legitimate concerns regarding study design and conclusions that reach beyond the scope of this column, ultimately their findings (that there is no therapeutic benefit to surgically removing clinically normal lymph nodes) has become largely accepted. The subsequent findings of the Laparoscopic Approach to Cancer of the Endometrium (LACE) trial further support this, as there was no difference in survival found between patients who were randomly assigned to laparoscopic versus open staging for endometrial cancer, even despite a significantly lower rate of lymphadenectomy among the laparoscopic arm.⁷

SLN biopsy, in which the specific nodes which drain the uterus are selectively removed, represents the most recent development in lymph node assessment for endometrial cancer. On average, only three lymph nodes are removed per patient, and para-aortic nodes infrequently are removed, because it is rare that lymphatic pathways drain directly into the aortic basins after cervical injection. Yet despite this more limited dissection of lymph nodes, especially para-aortic, with SLN biopsy, surgeons still observe similar rates of IIIC disease, compared with full lymphadenectomy, suggesting that the presence or absence of lymphatic metastases still is able to be adequately determined. SLN biopsy misses only 3% of lymphatic disease.⁸ What is of particular interest to practitioners of the SLN approach is that “atypical” pathways are discovered approximately 20% of the time, and nodes are harvested from locations such as the presacral space or medial to the internal iliac vessels. These nodes are in locations previously overlooked by even the most comprehensive pelvic and para-aortic lymphadenectomy. Therefore, while the para-aortic nodes may not be systematically removed with SLN biopsy, new and arguably more relevant regions are interrogated, which might explain its equivalent diagnostic virtue.

With this evolution in surgical-staging practice, what we have come to recognize is that the role of lymph node assessment is predominantly, if not exclusively, diagnostic. It can help us determine which patients are at risk for distant relapse and therefore candidates for systemic therapy (chemotherapy), versus those whose risk is predominantly of local relapse and can be adequately treated with local therapies alone, such as vaginal radiation. This brings us to the results of GOG 258. If defining the specific and complete extent of lymph node metastases (as if that was ever truly what surgeons were doing) is no longer necessary to guide the prescription and extent of external beam radiation, then lymph node dissection need only inform us of whether or not there are nodal metastases, not specifically the location of those nodal metastases. The prescription of chemotherapy is the same whether the disease is limited to the pelvic nodes or also includes the para-aortic nodes. While GOG 258 discovered more para-aortic failures among the chemotherapy-alone group, suggesting there may be some therapeutic role of radiation in preventing this, it should be noted that these para-aortic relapses did not negatively impact relapse-free survival, and these patients still can presumably be salvaged with external beam radiation to the site of para-aortic relapse.

It would seem logical that the results of GOG 258 further limit the potential role of para-aortic lymphadenectomy in women with clinical stage I disease. Perhaps para-aortic dissection can be limited to women who are at highest risk for isolated para-aortic disease, such as those with deeply invasive high-grade tumors not successfully mapped with the highly targeted sentinel node biopsy technique? Most clinicians look forward to an era in which we no longer rely on crude dissections of disease-free tissue just to prove they are disease free, but instead can utilize more sophisticated diagnostic methods to recognize disseminated disease.
 

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Email her at obnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. N Engl J Med. 2019 Jun 13;380(24):2317-26.

2. Cancer. 1987 Oct 15;60(8 Suppl):2035-41.

3. Gynecol Oncol. 2008;109(1):11-8.

4. Int J Gynecol Cancer. 2019 Mar;29(3):613-21.

5. J Natl Cancer Inst. 2008 Dec 3;100(23):1707-16.

6. Lancet. 2009 Jan 10;373(9658):125-36.

7. JAMA. 2017 Mar 28;317(12):1224-33.

8. Lancet Oncol. 2017 Mar;18(3):384-92.

 

A landmark study of advanced endometrial cancer, GOG 258, was published in the New England Journal of Medicine this summer.¹ This clinical trial compared the use of carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy with a combination of chemotherapy with external beam radiation, exploring the notion of “more is better.” The results of the trial revealed that the “more” (chemotherapy with external beam radiation) was no better than chemotherapy alone with respect to overall survival. These results have challenged a creeping dogma in gynecologic oncology, which has seen many providers embrace combination therapy, particularly for patients with stage III (node-positive) endometrial cancer, a group of patients who made up approximately three-quarters of GOG 258’s study population. Many have been left searching for justification of their early adoption of combination therapy before the results of a trial such as this were available. For me it also raised a slightly different question: In the light of these results, what IS the role of para-aortic lymphadenectomy in the staging of endometrial cancers? If radiation to the nodal basins is no longer part of adjuvant therapy, then is pelvic lymphadenectomy or pelvic-only sentinel lymph node (SLN) biopsy enough in determining which patients need chemotherapy?

It was in the 1980s that the removal of clinically normal para-aortic lymph nodes (those residing between the renal and proximal common iliac vessels) became a part of surgical staging. This practice was endorsed by the International Federation of Gynecology and Obstetrics (FIGO) and the Gynecologic Oncology Group (GOG) surgical committee in response to findings that 11% of women with clinical stage I endometrial cancer had microscopic lymph node metastases which were discovered only with routine pathologic evaluation of these tissues. Among those with pelvic lymph node metastases (stage IIIC disease), approximately one-third also harbored disease in para-aortic nodal regions.² Among all patients with endometrial cancer, including those with low-grade disease, only a small fraction (approximately 2%) have isolated para-aortic lymph nodes (positive para-aortic nodes, but negative pelvic nodes). However, among patients with deeply invasive higher-grade tumors, the likelihood of discovering isolated para-aortic metastases is higher at approximately 16%.³ Therefore, the dominant pattern of lymph node metastases and lymphatic dissemination of endometrial cancer appears to be via the parametrial channels laterally towards the pelvic basins, and then sequentially to the para-aortic regions. The direct lymphatic pathway to the para-aortic basins from the uterine fundus through the adnexal lymphatics misses the pelvic regions altogether and may seen logical, but actually is observed fairly infrequently.⁴

Over the subsequent decades, there have been debates and schools of thought regarding what is the optimal degree of lymphatic dissection for endometrial cancer staging. Some advocated for full pelvic and infrarenal para-aortic nodal dissections in all patients, including even those in the lowest risk for metastases. Others advocated for a more limited, inframesenteric para-aortic nodal dissection, although the origins of such a distinction appear to be largely arbitrary. The inferior mesenteric artery is not a physiologic landmark for lymphatic pathways, and approximately half of para-aortic metastases are located above the level of the inferior mesenteric artery. This limited sampling may have been preferred because of relative ease of dissection rather than diagnostic or therapeutic efficacy.

As the population became more obese, making para-aortic nodal dissections less feasible, and laparoscopic staging became accepted as the standard of care in endometrial cancer staging, there was a further push towards limiting the scope of lymphadenectomy. Selective algorithms, such as the so-called “Mayo clinic criteria,” were widely adopted. In this approach, gynecologic oncologists perform full pelvic and infrarenal para-aortic lymphadenectomies but only in the presence of a high-risk uterine feature such as tumor size greater than 2 cm, deep myometrial invasion, or grade 3 histology.³ While this reduced the number of para-aortic dissections being performed, it did not eliminate them, as approximately 40% of patients with endometrial cancer meet at least one of those criteria.

At this same time, we learned something else critical about the benefits, or lack thereof, of lymphadenectomy. Two landmark surgical-staging trials were published in 2009 which randomly assigned women to hysterectomy with lymphadenectomy or hysterectomy alone, and found no survival benefit for lymphadenectomy.^5,6 While these trial results initially were met with noisy backlash, particularly from those who had legitimate concerns regarding study design and conclusions that reach beyond the scope of this column, ultimately their findings (that there is no therapeutic benefit to surgically removing clinically normal lymph nodes) has become largely accepted. The subsequent findings of the Laparoscopic Approach to Cancer of the Endometrium (LACE) trial further support this, as there was no difference in survival found between patients who were randomly assigned to laparoscopic versus open staging for endometrial cancer, even despite a significantly lower rate of lymphadenectomy among the laparoscopic arm.⁷

SLN biopsy, in which the specific nodes which drain the uterus are selectively removed, represents the most recent development in lymph node assessment for endometrial cancer. On average, only three lymph nodes are removed per patient, and para-aortic nodes infrequently are removed, because it is rare that lymphatic pathways drain directly into the aortic basins after cervical injection. Yet despite this more limited dissection of lymph nodes, especially para-aortic, with SLN biopsy, surgeons still observe similar rates of IIIC disease, compared with full lymphadenectomy, suggesting that the presence or absence of lymphatic metastases still is able to be adequately determined. SLN biopsy misses only 3% of lymphatic disease.⁸ What is of particular interest to practitioners of the SLN approach is that “atypical” pathways are discovered approximately 20% of the time, and nodes are harvested from locations such as the presacral space or medial to the internal iliac vessels. These nodes are in locations previously overlooked by even the most comprehensive pelvic and para-aortic lymphadenectomy. Therefore, while the para-aortic nodes may not be systematically removed with SLN biopsy, new and arguably more relevant regions are interrogated, which might explain its equivalent diagnostic virtue.

With this evolution in surgical-staging practice, what we have come to recognize is that the role of lymph node assessment is predominantly, if not exclusively, diagnostic. It can help us determine which patients are at risk for distant relapse and therefore candidates for systemic therapy (chemotherapy), versus those whose risk is predominantly of local relapse and can be adequately treated with local therapies alone, such as vaginal radiation. This brings us to the results of GOG 258. If defining the specific and complete extent of lymph node metastases (as if that was ever truly what surgeons were doing) is no longer necessary to guide the prescription and extent of external beam radiation, then lymph node dissection need only inform us of whether or not there are nodal metastases, not specifically the location of those nodal metastases. The prescription of chemotherapy is the same whether the disease is limited to the pelvic nodes or also includes the para-aortic nodes. While GOG 258 discovered more para-aortic failures among the chemotherapy-alone group, suggesting there may be some therapeutic role of radiation in preventing this, it should be noted that these para-aortic relapses did not negatively impact relapse-free survival, and these patients still can presumably be salvaged with external beam radiation to the site of para-aortic relapse.

It would seem logical that the results of GOG 258 further limit the potential role of para-aortic lymphadenectomy in women with clinical stage I disease. Perhaps para-aortic dissection can be limited to women who are at highest risk for isolated para-aortic disease, such as those with deeply invasive high-grade tumors not successfully mapped with the highly targeted sentinel node biopsy technique? Most clinicians look forward to an era in which we no longer rely on crude dissections of disease-free tissue just to prove they are disease free, but instead can utilize more sophisticated diagnostic methods to recognize disseminated disease.
 

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Email her at obnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. N Engl J Med. 2019 Jun 13;380(24):2317-26.

2. Cancer. 1987 Oct 15;60(8 Suppl):2035-41.

3. Gynecol Oncol. 2008;109(1):11-8.

4. Int J Gynecol Cancer. 2019 Mar;29(3):613-21.

5. J Natl Cancer Inst. 2008 Dec 3;100(23):1707-16.

6. Lancet. 2009 Jan 10;373(9658):125-36.

7. JAMA. 2017 Mar 28;317(12):1224-33.

8. Lancet Oncol. 2017 Mar;18(3):384-92.

If you take a nighttime stroll through the downtown district in any major U.S. city – and certainly in my hometown of Baltimore – you’ll find people sleeping on the streets. Advocates talk about “the homeless mentally ill,” and it’s estimated that a quarter of homeless persons suffer from psychiatric conditions. As psychiatrists, it’s good that we care about the homeless mentally ill. As human beings, shouldn’t we also care about the addicted and indigent homeless? In a country of wealth, it continues to be a disgrace that we have people who live in tent encampments, or who literally sleep on the ground in public places with all their belongings gathered around them.

With 25 contenders for the Democratic presidential nomination, Andrew Yang has caught my attention with his platform for a universal basic income (UBI), or “freedom dividend,” for all adults. Mr. Yang’s premise is a simple one: He’d like to give every person over the age of 18 a $1,000-a-month government-supplied income, funded by a new Value Added Tax (VAT), with no stipulations. I find the concept intriguing. It is the one suggestion that might make a drastic dent in extreme poverty in our country. In theory, every adult would have enough money to afford a place to sleep.

Paul Nestadt, MD, a psychiatrist at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, agrees with the concept of a universal basic income. “The UBI seems like a humane and egalitarian way to eliminate starvation; it provides a ‘floor’ for poverty. It is a reasonable bare minimum, especially for our patients with serious mental illness who struggle to navigate the bureaucratic steeplechase required to have their basic needs met.” Dr. Nestadt believes that some of the other presidential candidates are supporting policies that would also accomplish this goal.

Marc Nozell/2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

So who is Andrew Yang? With no political experience, he bills himself as a technology entrepreneur who started a national education company, then went on to found Venture for America, an organization designed to create jobs. During the first round of Democratic debates, few questions were directed to him, and he was the lone gentleman on the stage without a tie. In addition to the UBI, he supports Medicare-for-all and “human-centered capitalism.” His slogan is “Humanity First,” and his website includes policy statements on a vast number of topics: everything from robocalls to wildfires to free marital counseling for all. His supporters call themselves the Yang Gang, and as of this writing, he polls at number 8 – with just 2% of the projected vote – among the 25 Democratic candidates.

While I find the prospect of a universal basic income appealing from the perspective of making a dent in extreme poverty, this is not the demographic Mr. Yang is targeting. His platform is based on the prediction that automation will continue to eliminate jobs at a rate that will devastate our people and our economy. In his book, The War on Normal People (Hachette Book Group, 2018), Yang writes about the UBI: “It’s simple, it’s fair, it’s equitable, it’s easy to understand, it benefits at least 80 percent of the population, and it will be necessary to maintain the fabric of society during the automation wave.” Mr. Yang contends that at least one-third of Americans are at risk of losing their jobs to automation.

It’s difficult to imagine that it would not be helpful to everyone’s mental health – not just those individuals with psychiatric disorders – to be freed from the worry of earning enough money to survive. While our welfare, disability, and Medicaid systems provide a safety net to many Americans, they certainly don’t cover everyone, and they engender a sense of unfairness and anger. Our current system allows that some people work hard and struggle to meet their basic needs and pay medical bills while others – usually the disabled or the poor – receive government benefits and Medicaid and/or Medicare. An all-inclusive system should mitigate the resentment that is fueled by these inequities.

In the “Making Sense” podcast hosted by Sam Harris, “A conversation with Andrew Yang,” Mr. Yang made the point that a UBI is not a new concept – economists and politicians, including Richard Nixon, have supported the idea since the 1960s. A bill proposing a basic income passed in the House of Representatives in 1971 but did not pass in the Senate. In the podcast, Mr. Yang addresses the question of whether people are responsible for their own success, and whether, as Mr. Harris puts it, “it’s just simply wrong to hand out money to people.”

“It’s not as if the truck drivers are about to get dumber and lazier overnight,” Mr. Yang responded. “It’s just that their trucks are going to start driving themselves ... it has nothing to do with their character and work ethic.” He goes on to discuss how workers who lose jobs often leave the workforce and many go on disability.

“Right now, the country’s locked in a struggle between functioning and dysfunction, between reason and unreason, and scarcity and abundance, and scarcity is winning and that’s what we have to reverse through universal basic income; it’s our best way forward.”

If we are optimistic that our government could afford to provide everyone with both a UBI and a universal health plan, such as Medicare-for-all, I still wonder if there might be a societal downside. For self-motivated individuals, a sustenance allowance is unlikely to weaken a drive to achieve. But might there be people who decide they can live on this income, who choose instead to pursue leisure activities rather than pursue education and vocation? Mr. Harris asked Mr. Yang if we would be “subsidizing all the people in their mothers’ basement playing video games.”

Mr. Yang responded, “If you’re getting a thousand dollars a month, then you’re much more likely to get out of your parents’ basement and visit friends and find things to do that are somewhat more social and external-facing. A lot of the reason a lot of these men are retreating is because there’s no real economic security or path forward for them, and they feel much better served by going online and hanging out with their friends and making measurable progress in their gaming environment.”

I like to think that an automatic income would not crush a society’s motivation and productivity, and that money provided to people would fuel education, our economy, an ability to save, and entrepreneurial endeavors, but the truth is that we just don’t know. I would love to see such an experiment done as a large-scale pilot, with the ability to undo the experiment if it fails.

Andrew Yang remains a long shot as the Democratic presidential nominee. His platform, however, is enticing, and he takes on the imminent automation crisis in a way that no one else is actively addressing. His concepts include a degree of humanity that feels welcome when our current president is tweeting that those who are unhappy here should leave. While Mr. Yang is a bit lost in the fray, I do hope his innovative spirit gains some traction.
 

Dr. Miller is the coauthor with Annette Hanson, MD, of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016) and has a private practice in Baltimore.

If you take a nighttime stroll through the downtown district in any major U.S. city – and certainly in my hometown of Baltimore – you’ll find people sleeping on the streets. Advocates talk about “the homeless mentally ill,” and it’s estimated that a quarter of homeless persons suffer from psychiatric conditions. As psychiatrists, it’s good that we care about the homeless mentally ill. As human beings, shouldn’t we also care about the addicted and indigent homeless? In a country of wealth, it continues to be a disgrace that we have people who live in tent encampments, or who literally sleep on the ground in public places with all their belongings gathered around them.

With 25 contenders for the Democratic presidential nomination, Andrew Yang has caught my attention with his platform for a universal basic income (UBI), or “freedom dividend,” for all adults. Mr. Yang’s premise is a simple one: He’d like to give every person over the age of 18 a $1,000-a-month government-supplied income, funded by a new Value Added Tax (VAT), with no stipulations. I find the concept intriguing. It is the one suggestion that might make a drastic dent in extreme poverty in our country. In theory, every adult would have enough money to afford a place to sleep.

Paul Nestadt, MD, a psychiatrist at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, agrees with the concept of a universal basic income. “The UBI seems like a humane and egalitarian way to eliminate starvation; it provides a ‘floor’ for poverty. It is a reasonable bare minimum, especially for our patients with serious mental illness who struggle to navigate the bureaucratic steeplechase required to have their basic needs met.” Dr. Nestadt believes that some of the other presidential candidates are supporting policies that would also accomplish this goal.

Marc Nozell/2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

So who is Andrew Yang? With no political experience, he bills himself as a technology entrepreneur who started a national education company, then went on to found Venture for America, an organization designed to create jobs. During the first round of Democratic debates, few questions were directed to him, and he was the lone gentleman on the stage without a tie. In addition to the UBI, he supports Medicare-for-all and “human-centered capitalism.” His slogan is “Humanity First,” and his website includes policy statements on a vast number of topics: everything from robocalls to wildfires to free marital counseling for all. His supporters call themselves the Yang Gang, and as of this writing, he polls at number 8 – with just 2% of the projected vote – among the 25 Democratic candidates.

While I find the prospect of a universal basic income appealing from the perspective of making a dent in extreme poverty, this is not the demographic Mr. Yang is targeting. His platform is based on the prediction that automation will continue to eliminate jobs at a rate that will devastate our people and our economy. In his book, The War on Normal People (Hachette Book Group, 2018), Yang writes about the UBI: “It’s simple, it’s fair, it’s equitable, it’s easy to understand, it benefits at least 80 percent of the population, and it will be necessary to maintain the fabric of society during the automation wave.” Mr. Yang contends that at least one-third of Americans are at risk of losing their jobs to automation.

It’s difficult to imagine that it would not be helpful to everyone’s mental health – not just those individuals with psychiatric disorders – to be freed from the worry of earning enough money to survive. While our welfare, disability, and Medicaid systems provide a safety net to many Americans, they certainly don’t cover everyone, and they engender a sense of unfairness and anger. Our current system allows that some people work hard and struggle to meet their basic needs and pay medical bills while others – usually the disabled or the poor – receive government benefits and Medicaid and/or Medicare. An all-inclusive system should mitigate the resentment that is fueled by these inequities.

In the “Making Sense” podcast hosted by Sam Harris, “A conversation with Andrew Yang,” Mr. Yang made the point that a UBI is not a new concept – economists and politicians, including Richard Nixon, have supported the idea since the 1960s. A bill proposing a basic income passed in the House of Representatives in 1971 but did not pass in the Senate. In the podcast, Mr. Yang addresses the question of whether people are responsible for their own success, and whether, as Mr. Harris puts it, “it’s just simply wrong to hand out money to people.”

“It’s not as if the truck drivers are about to get dumber and lazier overnight,” Mr. Yang responded. “It’s just that their trucks are going to start driving themselves ... it has nothing to do with their character and work ethic.” He goes on to discuss how workers who lose jobs often leave the workforce and many go on disability.

“Right now, the country’s locked in a struggle between functioning and dysfunction, between reason and unreason, and scarcity and abundance, and scarcity is winning and that’s what we have to reverse through universal basic income; it’s our best way forward.”

If we are optimistic that our government could afford to provide everyone with both a UBI and a universal health plan, such as Medicare-for-all, I still wonder if there might be a societal downside. For self-motivated individuals, a sustenance allowance is unlikely to weaken a drive to achieve. But might there be people who decide they can live on this income, who choose instead to pursue leisure activities rather than pursue education and vocation? Mr. Harris asked Mr. Yang if we would be “subsidizing all the people in their mothers’ basement playing video games.”

Mr. Yang responded, “If you’re getting a thousand dollars a month, then you’re much more likely to get out of your parents’ basement and visit friends and find things to do that are somewhat more social and external-facing. A lot of the reason a lot of these men are retreating is because there’s no real economic security or path forward for them, and they feel much better served by going online and hanging out with their friends and making measurable progress in their gaming environment.”

I like to think that an automatic income would not crush a society’s motivation and productivity, and that money provided to people would fuel education, our economy, an ability to save, and entrepreneurial endeavors, but the truth is that we just don’t know. I would love to see such an experiment done as a large-scale pilot, with the ability to undo the experiment if it fails.

Andrew Yang remains a long shot as the Democratic presidential nominee. His platform, however, is enticing, and he takes on the imminent automation crisis in a way that no one else is actively addressing. His concepts include a degree of humanity that feels welcome when our current president is tweeting that those who are unhappy here should leave. While Mr. Yang is a bit lost in the fray, I do hope his innovative spirit gains some traction.
 

Dr. Miller is the coauthor with Annette Hanson, MD, of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016) and has a private practice in Baltimore.

If you take a nighttime stroll through the downtown district in any major U.S. city – and certainly in my hometown of Baltimore – you’ll find people sleeping on the streets. Advocates talk about “the homeless mentally ill,” and it’s estimated that a quarter of homeless persons suffer from psychiatric conditions. As psychiatrists, it’s good that we care about the homeless mentally ill. As human beings, shouldn’t we also care about the addicted and indigent homeless? In a country of wealth, it continues to be a disgrace that we have people who live in tent encampments, or who literally sleep on the ground in public places with all their belongings gathered around them.

With 25 contenders for the Democratic presidential nomination, Andrew Yang has caught my attention with his platform for a universal basic income (UBI), or “freedom dividend,” for all adults. Mr. Yang’s premise is a simple one: He’d like to give every person over the age of 18 a $1,000-a-month government-supplied income, funded by a new Value Added Tax (VAT), with no stipulations. I find the concept intriguing. It is the one suggestion that might make a drastic dent in extreme poverty in our country. In theory, every adult would have enough money to afford a place to sleep.

Paul Nestadt, MD, a psychiatrist at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, agrees with the concept of a universal basic income. “The UBI seems like a humane and egalitarian way to eliminate starvation; it provides a ‘floor’ for poverty. It is a reasonable bare minimum, especially for our patients with serious mental illness who struggle to navigate the bureaucratic steeplechase required to have their basic needs met.” Dr. Nestadt believes that some of the other presidential candidates are supporting policies that would also accomplish this goal.

Marc Nozell/2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

So who is Andrew Yang? With no political experience, he bills himself as a technology entrepreneur who started a national education company, then went on to found Venture for America, an organization designed to create jobs. During the first round of Democratic debates, few questions were directed to him, and he was the lone gentleman on the stage without a tie. In addition to the UBI, he supports Medicare-for-all and “human-centered capitalism.” His slogan is “Humanity First,” and his website includes policy statements on a vast number of topics: everything from robocalls to wildfires to free marital counseling for all. His supporters call themselves the Yang Gang, and as of this writing, he polls at number 8 – with just 2% of the projected vote – among the 25 Democratic candidates.

While I find the prospect of a universal basic income appealing from the perspective of making a dent in extreme poverty, this is not the demographic Mr. Yang is targeting. His platform is based on the prediction that automation will continue to eliminate jobs at a rate that will devastate our people and our economy. In his book, The War on Normal People (Hachette Book Group, 2018), Yang writes about the UBI: “It’s simple, it’s fair, it’s equitable, it’s easy to understand, it benefits at least 80 percent of the population, and it will be necessary to maintain the fabric of society during the automation wave.” Mr. Yang contends that at least one-third of Americans are at risk of losing their jobs to automation.

It’s difficult to imagine that it would not be helpful to everyone’s mental health – not just those individuals with psychiatric disorders – to be freed from the worry of earning enough money to survive. While our welfare, disability, and Medicaid systems provide a safety net to many Americans, they certainly don’t cover everyone, and they engender a sense of unfairness and anger. Our current system allows that some people work hard and struggle to meet their basic needs and pay medical bills while others – usually the disabled or the poor – receive government benefits and Medicaid and/or Medicare. An all-inclusive system should mitigate the resentment that is fueled by these inequities.

In the “Making Sense” podcast hosted by Sam Harris, “A conversation with Andrew Yang,” Mr. Yang made the point that a UBI is not a new concept – economists and politicians, including Richard Nixon, have supported the idea since the 1960s. A bill proposing a basic income passed in the House of Representatives in 1971 but did not pass in the Senate. In the podcast, Mr. Yang addresses the question of whether people are responsible for their own success, and whether, as Mr. Harris puts it, “it’s just simply wrong to hand out money to people.”

“It’s not as if the truck drivers are about to get dumber and lazier overnight,” Mr. Yang responded. “It’s just that their trucks are going to start driving themselves ... it has nothing to do with their character and work ethic.” He goes on to discuss how workers who lose jobs often leave the workforce and many go on disability.

“Right now, the country’s locked in a struggle between functioning and dysfunction, between reason and unreason, and scarcity and abundance, and scarcity is winning and that’s what we have to reverse through universal basic income; it’s our best way forward.”

If we are optimistic that our government could afford to provide everyone with both a UBI and a universal health plan, such as Medicare-for-all, I still wonder if there might be a societal downside. For self-motivated individuals, a sustenance allowance is unlikely to weaken a drive to achieve. But might there be people who decide they can live on this income, who choose instead to pursue leisure activities rather than pursue education and vocation? Mr. Harris asked Mr. Yang if we would be “subsidizing all the people in their mothers’ basement playing video games.”

Mr. Yang responded, “If you’re getting a thousand dollars a month, then you’re much more likely to get out of your parents’ basement and visit friends and find things to do that are somewhat more social and external-facing. A lot of the reason a lot of these men are retreating is because there’s no real economic security or path forward for them, and they feel much better served by going online and hanging out with their friends and making measurable progress in their gaming environment.”

I like to think that an automatic income would not crush a society’s motivation and productivity, and that money provided to people would fuel education, our economy, an ability to save, and entrepreneurial endeavors, but the truth is that we just don’t know. I would love to see such an experiment done as a large-scale pilot, with the ability to undo the experiment if it fails.

Andrew Yang remains a long shot as the Democratic presidential nominee. His platform, however, is enticing, and he takes on the imminent automation crisis in a way that no one else is actively addressing. His concepts include a degree of humanity that feels welcome when our current president is tweeting that those who are unhappy here should leave. While Mr. Yang is a bit lost in the fray, I do hope his innovative spirit gains some traction.
 

Dr. Miller is the coauthor with Annette Hanson, MD, of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016) and has a private practice in Baltimore.

If the name Michael E. Pichichero, MD, is unfamiliar, you haven’t been reading some of the best articles on this website . Dr. Pichichero, an infectious disease specialist at the Research Institute at the Rochester General Hospital in New York, reports in his most recent ID Consult column on new research presented at the June 2019 meeting of the International Society for Otitis Media, including topics such as transtympanic antibiotic delivery, biofilms, probiotics, and biomarkers.

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons/Mar10029/Creative Commons License

Dr. Pichichero described work he and his colleagues have been doing on the impact of overdiagnosis of acute otitis media (AOM). They found when “validated otoscopists” evaluated children, half as many reached the diagnostic threshold of being labeled “otitis prone” as when community-based pediatricians performed the exams.

Looking around at the colleagues with whom you share patients, do you find that some of them diagnose AOM much more frequently than does the coverage group average? How often do you see a child a day or two after he has been diagnosed with AOM by a colleague and find that the child’s tympanic membranes are transparent and mobile? Do you or your practice group keep track of each provider’s diagnostic tendencies? If these data exists, is there a mechanism for addressing apparent outliers? I suspect that the answer to those last two questions is a firm “No.”

I don’t have the stomach this morning to open those two cans of worms. But certainly Dr. Pichichero’s findings suggest that these are issues that need to be addressed. How the process should proceed in a nonthreatening way is a story for another day. But I’m not sure that involving your community ear, nose, and throat (ENT) specialist as a resource is the best answer. The scenarios in which pediatricians and ENTs perform otoscopies couldn’t be more different. In the pediatrician’s office, the child is generally sick, feverish, and possibly in pain. In the ENT’s office, the acute process has probably passed and the assessment may lean more heavily on history. The child is more likely to accept the exam without resistance, and the findings are not those of AOM but of a chronic process. The fact that Dr. Pichichero has been able to find and train “validated otoscopists” suggests that improving the quality of otoscopy among the physicians in communities like yours and mine is achievable.

How are your otoscopy skills? Do feel comfortable that you can do a good exam and accurately diagnose AOM? When did you acquire that comfort level? Probably not in medical school. More likely as a house officer when you were guided by a more senior house officer who may nor not been a master otoscopist. How would you rate your training? Or were you self-taught? Do you insufflate? Are you a skilled cerumen extractor? Or do you give up after one attempt? Be honest. How is your equipment? Are the bulbs and batteries fresh? Do you find yourself frustrated by an otoscope that is tethered to the wall charger by a cord that ensnarls you, the parent, and the patient? Have you complained to the practice administrators that your otoscopes are inadequate?

These are not minor issues. It is clear that overdiagnosis of AOM happens. It may occur even more often than Dr. Pichichero suggests, but I doubt it is less. Overdiagnosis can result in overtreatment with antibiotics, and the cascade of consequences both for the patient, the community, and the environment. Overdiagnosis can be the first step on the path to unnecessary surgery. Incorrectly diagnosing a child with AOM may create a distraction and a delay in arriving at the true diagnoses of a more serious condition. It is incumbent on all of us to make sure that our otoscopy skills and those of our colleagues are sharp, that our equipment is well maintained and that we remain abreast of the latest developments in the diagnosis and treatment of AOM.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

 

If the name Michael E. Pichichero, MD, is unfamiliar, you haven’t been reading some of the best articles on this website . Dr. Pichichero, an infectious disease specialist at the Research Institute at the Rochester General Hospital in New York, reports in his most recent ID Consult column on new research presented at the June 2019 meeting of the International Society for Otitis Media, including topics such as transtympanic antibiotic delivery, biofilms, probiotics, and biomarkers.

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons/Mar10029/Creative Commons License

Dr. Pichichero described work he and his colleagues have been doing on the impact of overdiagnosis of acute otitis media (AOM). They found when “validated otoscopists” evaluated children, half as many reached the diagnostic threshold of being labeled “otitis prone” as when community-based pediatricians performed the exams.

Looking around at the colleagues with whom you share patients, do you find that some of them diagnose AOM much more frequently than does the coverage group average? How often do you see a child a day or two after he has been diagnosed with AOM by a colleague and find that the child’s tympanic membranes are transparent and mobile? Do you or your practice group keep track of each provider’s diagnostic tendencies? If these data exists, is there a mechanism for addressing apparent outliers? I suspect that the answer to those last two questions is a firm “No.”

I don’t have the stomach this morning to open those two cans of worms. But certainly Dr. Pichichero’s findings suggest that these are issues that need to be addressed. How the process should proceed in a nonthreatening way is a story for another day. But I’m not sure that involving your community ear, nose, and throat (ENT) specialist as a resource is the best answer. The scenarios in which pediatricians and ENTs perform otoscopies couldn’t be more different. In the pediatrician’s office, the child is generally sick, feverish, and possibly in pain. In the ENT’s office, the acute process has probably passed and the assessment may lean more heavily on history. The child is more likely to accept the exam without resistance, and the findings are not those of AOM but of a chronic process. The fact that Dr. Pichichero has been able to find and train “validated otoscopists” suggests that improving the quality of otoscopy among the physicians in communities like yours and mine is achievable.

How are your otoscopy skills? Do feel comfortable that you can do a good exam and accurately diagnose AOM? When did you acquire that comfort level? Probably not in medical school. More likely as a house officer when you were guided by a more senior house officer who may nor not been a master otoscopist. How would you rate your training? Or were you self-taught? Do you insufflate? Are you a skilled cerumen extractor? Or do you give up after one attempt? Be honest. How is your equipment? Are the bulbs and batteries fresh? Do you find yourself frustrated by an otoscope that is tethered to the wall charger by a cord that ensnarls you, the parent, and the patient? Have you complained to the practice administrators that your otoscopes are inadequate?

These are not minor issues. It is clear that overdiagnosis of AOM happens. It may occur even more often than Dr. Pichichero suggests, but I doubt it is less. Overdiagnosis can result in overtreatment with antibiotics, and the cascade of consequences both for the patient, the community, and the environment. Overdiagnosis can be the first step on the path to unnecessary surgery. Incorrectly diagnosing a child with AOM may create a distraction and a delay in arriving at the true diagnoses of a more serious condition. It is incumbent on all of us to make sure that our otoscopy skills and those of our colleagues are sharp, that our equipment is well maintained and that we remain abreast of the latest developments in the diagnosis and treatment of AOM.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

 

If the name Michael E. Pichichero, MD, is unfamiliar, you haven’t been reading some of the best articles on this website . Dr. Pichichero, an infectious disease specialist at the Research Institute at the Rochester General Hospital in New York, reports in his most recent ID Consult column on new research presented at the June 2019 meeting of the International Society for Otitis Media, including topics such as transtympanic antibiotic delivery, biofilms, probiotics, and biomarkers.

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons/Mar10029/Creative Commons License

Dr. Pichichero described work he and his colleagues have been doing on the impact of overdiagnosis of acute otitis media (AOM). They found when “validated otoscopists” evaluated children, half as many reached the diagnostic threshold of being labeled “otitis prone” as when community-based pediatricians performed the exams.

Looking around at the colleagues with whom you share patients, do you find that some of them diagnose AOM much more frequently than does the coverage group average? How often do you see a child a day or two after he has been diagnosed with AOM by a colleague and find that the child’s tympanic membranes are transparent and mobile? Do you or your practice group keep track of each provider’s diagnostic tendencies? If these data exists, is there a mechanism for addressing apparent outliers? I suspect that the answer to those last two questions is a firm “No.”

I don’t have the stomach this morning to open those two cans of worms. But certainly Dr. Pichichero’s findings suggest that these are issues that need to be addressed. How the process should proceed in a nonthreatening way is a story for another day. But I’m not sure that involving your community ear, nose, and throat (ENT) specialist as a resource is the best answer. The scenarios in which pediatricians and ENTs perform otoscopies couldn’t be more different. In the pediatrician’s office, the child is generally sick, feverish, and possibly in pain. In the ENT’s office, the acute process has probably passed and the assessment may lean more heavily on history. The child is more likely to accept the exam without resistance, and the findings are not those of AOM but of a chronic process. The fact that Dr. Pichichero has been able to find and train “validated otoscopists” suggests that improving the quality of otoscopy among the physicians in communities like yours and mine is achievable.

How are your otoscopy skills? Do feel comfortable that you can do a good exam and accurately diagnose AOM? When did you acquire that comfort level? Probably not in medical school. More likely as a house officer when you were guided by a more senior house officer who may nor not been a master otoscopist. How would you rate your training? Or were you self-taught? Do you insufflate? Are you a skilled cerumen extractor? Or do you give up after one attempt? Be honest. How is your equipment? Are the bulbs and batteries fresh? Do you find yourself frustrated by an otoscope that is tethered to the wall charger by a cord that ensnarls you, the parent, and the patient? Have you complained to the practice administrators that your otoscopes are inadequate?

These are not minor issues. It is clear that overdiagnosis of AOM happens. It may occur even more often than Dr. Pichichero suggests, but I doubt it is less. Overdiagnosis can result in overtreatment with antibiotics, and the cascade of consequences both for the patient, the community, and the environment. Overdiagnosis can be the first step on the path to unnecessary surgery. Incorrectly diagnosing a child with AOM may create a distraction and a delay in arriving at the true diagnoses of a more serious condition. It is incumbent on all of us to make sure that our otoscopy skills and those of our colleagues are sharp, that our equipment is well maintained and that we remain abreast of the latest developments in the diagnosis and treatment of AOM.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

 

I’m sitting on the porch looking out at our little harbor, listening to the murmurings of the family of renters who have just moved into the cottage next door. We are on the cusp of the tourist season that draws millions of visitors – more than 36 million in 2017 – to a state that has less than a million and a half year-round residents during the other 9 months. Why do the “people from away” come?

wakr10/Thinkstock

The water is too cold for swimming most of the summer in Maine. But we have forested mountains, rocky shores, and we’re small. When I chat with the visitors sharing our stony little beach, they often ask if I live here and tell me how lucky I am because they envy the quiet, the friendly people, the lack of traffic, and the sense of community that they feel here in Vacationland.

My being here in Maine wasn’t a stroke of luck. It was a conscious decision that my wife and I made when I finished my training. The lucky part was meeting my wife who was born here. Through her I learned what Maine was about. I had grown up in a small town of 5,000 (although it was the suburb of a city of millions) and went to a small college in rural New Hampshire with an enrollment of a little more than 3,000. I turned down residencies in pediatric radiology and dermatology because I knew that to have a sustainable patient base we would have needed to live in a major metropolitan center.

I was accustomed to the benefits of living small. In the 1970s, the local economy in mid-coast Maine was shaky, the biggest employer had not yet secured the large military contracts it needed to thrive. But we decided it was a risk worth taking, and we have never regretted for a second living and practicing in a town of less than 20,000.

With this history as a backdrop, you can understand why I am a bit puzzled and disappointed by the results of a 2019 survey final-year medical residents recently published by the medical search and consulting firm Merritt Hawkins. Although the sample size is small (391 respondents out of 20,000 email surveys), the responses probably are a reasonable reflection of the opinions of the entire population of final-year residents. More than 80% of the respondents said that they would most like to practice in a community with a population of more than 100,000, and 65% would prefer a population base of more than 250,000. This would automatically rule out Maine, where our largest city has less than 80,000 people.

I can easily understand why physicians finishing their residency would avoid practice opportunities in remote, thinly populated regions in which they might find themselves as the only, or one of only two physicians serving a medically needy, economically depressed population spread out over a wide geographic area. That kind of challenge has some appeal for the saintly few, or the dreamy-eyed idealists. But in my experience, those work environments require so much energy that most physicians last only a few years because being on call is so taxing.

However, there are many communities in this country well under the population threshold of 100,000 where a doctor could prosper and enjoy an enviable quality of life. I know of several right here in Maine. What is driving young physicians to seek larger communities? It may be that because teaching hospitals are usually in more densely populated communities, many residents lack sufficient exposure to role models who are practicing in smaller settings. Compounding this dearth of role models is the unfortunate and often inaccurate image in which local doctors are cast as bumbling and clueless. I was fortunate because where I did my first 2 years of training, the local pediatricians played an active role and were very visible role models of how one can enjoy practice in a smaller community.

I guess I can’t ignore the obvious that a larger population base may be able guarantee an income that could sound appealing to the more than 50% of residents who will complete their training with a sizable debt.

However, I fear that too many residents nearing the end of their training believe that the “quality of life” that they claim to be seeking can’t be found in a small community practice. They would do well to speak to a few of us who have enjoyed and prospered by living small.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

 

I’m sitting on the porch looking out at our little harbor, listening to the murmurings of the family of renters who have just moved into the cottage next door. We are on the cusp of the tourist season that draws millions of visitors – more than 36 million in 2017 – to a state that has less than a million and a half year-round residents during the other 9 months. Why do the “people from away” come?

wakr10/Thinkstock

The water is too cold for swimming most of the summer in Maine. But we have forested mountains, rocky shores, and we’re small. When I chat with the visitors sharing our stony little beach, they often ask if I live here and tell me how lucky I am because they envy the quiet, the friendly people, the lack of traffic, and the sense of community that they feel here in Vacationland.

My being here in Maine wasn’t a stroke of luck. It was a conscious decision that my wife and I made when I finished my training. The lucky part was meeting my wife who was born here. Through her I learned what Maine was about. I had grown up in a small town of 5,000 (although it was the suburb of a city of millions) and went to a small college in rural New Hampshire with an enrollment of a little more than 3,000. I turned down residencies in pediatric radiology and dermatology because I knew that to have a sustainable patient base we would have needed to live in a major metropolitan center.

I was accustomed to the benefits of living small. In the 1970s, the local economy in mid-coast Maine was shaky, the biggest employer had not yet secured the large military contracts it needed to thrive. But we decided it was a risk worth taking, and we have never regretted for a second living and practicing in a town of less than 20,000.

With this history as a backdrop, you can understand why I am a bit puzzled and disappointed by the results of a 2019 survey final-year medical residents recently published by the medical search and consulting firm Merritt Hawkins. Although the sample size is small (391 respondents out of 20,000 email surveys), the responses probably are a reasonable reflection of the opinions of the entire population of final-year residents. More than 80% of the respondents said that they would most like to practice in a community with a population of more than 100,000, and 65% would prefer a population base of more than 250,000. This would automatically rule out Maine, where our largest city has less than 80,000 people.

I can easily understand why physicians finishing their residency would avoid practice opportunities in remote, thinly populated regions in which they might find themselves as the only, or one of only two physicians serving a medically needy, economically depressed population spread out over a wide geographic area. That kind of challenge has some appeal for the saintly few, or the dreamy-eyed idealists. But in my experience, those work environments require so much energy that most physicians last only a few years because being on call is so taxing.

However, there are many communities in this country well under the population threshold of 100,000 where a doctor could prosper and enjoy an enviable quality of life. I know of several right here in Maine. What is driving young physicians to seek larger communities? It may be that because teaching hospitals are usually in more densely populated communities, many residents lack sufficient exposure to role models who are practicing in smaller settings. Compounding this dearth of role models is the unfortunate and often inaccurate image in which local doctors are cast as bumbling and clueless. I was fortunate because where I did my first 2 years of training, the local pediatricians played an active role and were very visible role models of how one can enjoy practice in a smaller community.

I guess I can’t ignore the obvious that a larger population base may be able guarantee an income that could sound appealing to the more than 50% of residents who will complete their training with a sizable debt.

However, I fear that too many residents nearing the end of their training believe that the “quality of life” that they claim to be seeking can’t be found in a small community practice. They would do well to speak to a few of us who have enjoyed and prospered by living small.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

 

I’m sitting on the porch looking out at our little harbor, listening to the murmurings of the family of renters who have just moved into the cottage next door. We are on the cusp of the tourist season that draws millions of visitors – more than 36 million in 2017 – to a state that has less than a million and a half year-round residents during the other 9 months. Why do the “people from away” come?

wakr10/Thinkstock

The water is too cold for swimming most of the summer in Maine. But we have forested mountains, rocky shores, and we’re small. When I chat with the visitors sharing our stony little beach, they often ask if I live here and tell me how lucky I am because they envy the quiet, the friendly people, the lack of traffic, and the sense of community that they feel here in Vacationland.

My being here in Maine wasn’t a stroke of luck. It was a conscious decision that my wife and I made when I finished my training. The lucky part was meeting my wife who was born here. Through her I learned what Maine was about. I had grown up in a small town of 5,000 (although it was the suburb of a city of millions) and went to a small college in rural New Hampshire with an enrollment of a little more than 3,000. I turned down residencies in pediatric radiology and dermatology because I knew that to have a sustainable patient base we would have needed to live in a major metropolitan center.

I was accustomed to the benefits of living small. In the 1970s, the local economy in mid-coast Maine was shaky, the biggest employer had not yet secured the large military contracts it needed to thrive. But we decided it was a risk worth taking, and we have never regretted for a second living and practicing in a town of less than 20,000.

With this history as a backdrop, you can understand why I am a bit puzzled and disappointed by the results of a 2019 survey final-year medical residents recently published by the medical search and consulting firm Merritt Hawkins. Although the sample size is small (391 respondents out of 20,000 email surveys), the responses probably are a reasonable reflection of the opinions of the entire population of final-year residents. More than 80% of the respondents said that they would most like to practice in a community with a population of more than 100,000, and 65% would prefer a population base of more than 250,000. This would automatically rule out Maine, where our largest city has less than 80,000 people.

I can easily understand why physicians finishing their residency would avoid practice opportunities in remote, thinly populated regions in which they might find themselves as the only, or one of only two physicians serving a medically needy, economically depressed population spread out over a wide geographic area. That kind of challenge has some appeal for the saintly few, or the dreamy-eyed idealists. But in my experience, those work environments require so much energy that most physicians last only a few years because being on call is so taxing.

However, there are many communities in this country well under the population threshold of 100,000 where a doctor could prosper and enjoy an enviable quality of life. I know of several right here in Maine. What is driving young physicians to seek larger communities? It may be that because teaching hospitals are usually in more densely populated communities, many residents lack sufficient exposure to role models who are practicing in smaller settings. Compounding this dearth of role models is the unfortunate and often inaccurate image in which local doctors are cast as bumbling and clueless. I was fortunate because where I did my first 2 years of training, the local pediatricians played an active role and were very visible role models of how one can enjoy practice in a smaller community.

I guess I can’t ignore the obvious that a larger population base may be able guarantee an income that could sound appealing to the more than 50% of residents who will complete their training with a sizable debt.

However, I fear that too many residents nearing the end of their training believe that the “quality of life” that they claim to be seeking can’t be found in a small community practice. They would do well to speak to a few of us who have enjoyed and prospered by living small.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

 

 

In this edition of “How I will treat my next patient,” I highlight two recent presentations regarding potential improvements in the convenience and tolerability of treatment for two hematologic malignancies: multiple myeloma and chronic lymphocytic leukemia/small lymphocytic lymphoma (CLL/SLL).

SC-Dara in myeloma

At the 2019 annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology, Maria-Victoria Mateos, MD, PhD, and colleagues, reported the results of COLUMBA, a phase 3 evaluation in 522 patients with multiple myeloma who were randomized to subcutaneous daratumumab (SC-Dara) or standard intravenous infusions of daratumumab (IV-Dara). A previous phase 1b study (Blood. 2017;130:838) had suggested comparable efficacy from the more convenient SC regime. Whereas conventional infusions of IV-Dara (16 mg/kg) take several hours, the SC formulation (1,800 mg–flat dose) is delivered in minutes. In COLUMBA, patients were randomized between SC- and IV-Dara weekly (cycles 1-2), then every 2 weeks (cycles 3-6), then every 4 weeks until disease progression.

Among the IV-Dara patients, the median duration of the first infusion was 421 minutes in cycle 1, 255 minutes in cycle 2, and 205 minutes in subsequent cycles – compatible with standard practice in the United States. As reported, at a median follow-up of 7.46 months, the efficacy (overall response rate, complete response rate, stringent-complete response rate, very good-partial response rate, progression-free survival, and 6-month overall survival) and safety profile were non-inferior for SC-Dara. SC-Dara patients also reported higher satisfaction with therapy.
 

What this means in practice

It is always a good idea to await publication of the manuscript because there may be study details and statistical nuances that make SC-Dara appear better than it will prove to be. For example, patient characteristics were slightly different between the two arms. Peer review of the final manuscript could be important in placing these results in context.

However, for treatments that demand frequent office visits over many months, reducing treatment burden for patients has value. Based on COLUMBA, it appears likely that SC-Dara will be a major convenience for patients, without obvious drawbacks in efficacy or toxicity. Meanwhile, flat dosing will be a time-saver for physicians, nursing, and pharmacy staff. If the price of the SC formulation is not exorbitant, I would expect a “win-win” that will support converting from IV- to SC-Dara as standard practice.

Acalabrutinib in CLL/SLL

Preclinical studies have shown acalabrutinib (Acala) to be more selective for Bruton’s tyrosine kinase (BTK) than the first-in-class agent ibrutinib, with less off-target kinase inhibition. As reported at the 2019 annual congress of the European Hematology Association by Paolo Ghia, MD, PhD, and colleagues in the phase 3 ASCEND trial, 310 patients with previously treated CLL were randomized between oral Acala twice daily and treatment of physician’s choice (TPC) – either idelalisib plus rituximab (maximum of seven infusions) or bendamustine plus rituximab (maximum of six cycles).

Progression-free survival was the primary endpoint. At a median of 16.1 months, progression-free survival had not been reached for Acala, in comparison with 16.5 months for TPC. Significant benefit of Acala was observed in all prognostic subsets.

Although there was no difference in overall survival at a median follow-up of about 16 months, 85% of Acala patients had a response lasting at least 12 months, compared with 60% of TPC patients. Adverse events of any grade occurred in 94% of patients treated with Acala, with 45% being grade 3-4 toxicities and six treatment-related deaths.

 

What this means in practice

The vast majority of CLL/SLL patients will relapse after primary therapy and will require further treatment, so the progression-free survival improvement associated with Acala in ASCEND is eye-catching. However, there are important considerations that demand closer scrutiny.

With oral agents administered until progression or unacceptable toxicity, low-grade toxicities can influence patient adherence, quality of life, and potentially the need for dose reduction or treatment interruptions. Regimens of finite duration and easy adherence monitoring may be, on balance, preferred by patients and providers – especially if the oral agent can be given in later-line with comparable overall survival.

With ibrutinib (Blood. 2017;129:2612-5), Paul M. Barr, MD, and colleagues demonstrated that higher dose intensity was associated with improved progression-free survival and that holds were associated with worsened progression-free survival. Acala’s promise of high efficacy and lower off-target toxicity will be solidified if the large (more than 500 patients) phase 3 ACE-CL-006 study (Acala vs. ibrutinib) demonstrates its relative benefit from efficacy, toxicity, and adherence perspectives, in comparison with a standard therapy that similarly demands adherence until disease progression or unacceptable toxicity.

Dr. Lyss has been a community-based medical oncologist and clinical researcher for more than 35 years, practicing in St. Louis. His clinical and research interests are in the prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of breast and lung cancers and in expanding access to clinical trials to medically underserved populations.

 

In this edition of “How I will treat my next patient,” I highlight two recent presentations regarding potential improvements in the convenience and tolerability of treatment for two hematologic malignancies: multiple myeloma and chronic lymphocytic leukemia/small lymphocytic lymphoma (CLL/SLL).

SC-Dara in myeloma

At the 2019 annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology, Maria-Victoria Mateos, MD, PhD, and colleagues, reported the results of COLUMBA, a phase 3 evaluation in 522 patients with multiple myeloma who were randomized to subcutaneous daratumumab (SC-Dara) or standard intravenous infusions of daratumumab (IV-Dara). A previous phase 1b study (Blood. 2017;130:838) had suggested comparable efficacy from the more convenient SC regime. Whereas conventional infusions of IV-Dara (16 mg/kg) take several hours, the SC formulation (1,800 mg–flat dose) is delivered in minutes. In COLUMBA, patients were randomized between SC- and IV-Dara weekly (cycles 1-2), then every 2 weeks (cycles 3-6), then every 4 weeks until disease progression.

Among the IV-Dara patients, the median duration of the first infusion was 421 minutes in cycle 1, 255 minutes in cycle 2, and 205 minutes in subsequent cycles – compatible with standard practice in the United States. As reported, at a median follow-up of 7.46 months, the efficacy (overall response rate, complete response rate, stringent-complete response rate, very good-partial response rate, progression-free survival, and 6-month overall survival) and safety profile were non-inferior for SC-Dara. SC-Dara patients also reported higher satisfaction with therapy.
 

What this means in practice

It is always a good idea to await publication of the manuscript because there may be study details and statistical nuances that make SC-Dara appear better than it will prove to be. For example, patient characteristics were slightly different between the two arms. Peer review of the final manuscript could be important in placing these results in context.

However, for treatments that demand frequent office visits over many months, reducing treatment burden for patients has value. Based on COLUMBA, it appears likely that SC-Dara will be a major convenience for patients, without obvious drawbacks in efficacy or toxicity. Meanwhile, flat dosing will be a time-saver for physicians, nursing, and pharmacy staff. If the price of the SC formulation is not exorbitant, I would expect a “win-win” that will support converting from IV- to SC-Dara as standard practice.

Acalabrutinib in CLL/SLL

Preclinical studies have shown acalabrutinib (Acala) to be more selective for Bruton’s tyrosine kinase (BTK) than the first-in-class agent ibrutinib, with less off-target kinase inhibition. As reported at the 2019 annual congress of the European Hematology Association by Paolo Ghia, MD, PhD, and colleagues in the phase 3 ASCEND trial, 310 patients with previously treated CLL were randomized between oral Acala twice daily and treatment of physician’s choice (TPC) – either idelalisib plus rituximab (maximum of seven infusions) or bendamustine plus rituximab (maximum of six cycles).

Progression-free survival was the primary endpoint. At a median of 16.1 months, progression-free survival had not been reached for Acala, in comparison with 16.5 months for TPC. Significant benefit of Acala was observed in all prognostic subsets.

Although there was no difference in overall survival at a median follow-up of about 16 months, 85% of Acala patients had a response lasting at least 12 months, compared with 60% of TPC patients. Adverse events of any grade occurred in 94% of patients treated with Acala, with 45% being grade 3-4 toxicities and six treatment-related deaths.

 

What this means in practice

The vast majority of CLL/SLL patients will relapse after primary therapy and will require further treatment, so the progression-free survival improvement associated with Acala in ASCEND is eye-catching. However, there are important considerations that demand closer scrutiny.

With oral agents administered until progression or unacceptable toxicity, low-grade toxicities can influence patient adherence, quality of life, and potentially the need for dose reduction or treatment interruptions. Regimens of finite duration and easy adherence monitoring may be, on balance, preferred by patients and providers – especially if the oral agent can be given in later-line with comparable overall survival.

With ibrutinib (Blood. 2017;129:2612-5), Paul M. Barr, MD, and colleagues demonstrated that higher dose intensity was associated with improved progression-free survival and that holds were associated with worsened progression-free survival. Acala’s promise of high efficacy and lower off-target toxicity will be solidified if the large (more than 500 patients) phase 3 ACE-CL-006 study (Acala vs. ibrutinib) demonstrates its relative benefit from efficacy, toxicity, and adherence perspectives, in comparison with a standard therapy that similarly demands adherence until disease progression or unacceptable toxicity.

Dr. Lyss has been a community-based medical oncologist and clinical researcher for more than 35 years, practicing in St. Louis. His clinical and research interests are in the prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of breast and lung cancers and in expanding access to clinical trials to medically underserved populations.

 

In this edition of “How I will treat my next patient,” I highlight two recent presentations regarding potential improvements in the convenience and tolerability of treatment for two hematologic malignancies: multiple myeloma and chronic lymphocytic leukemia/small lymphocytic lymphoma (CLL/SLL).

SC-Dara in myeloma

At the 2019 annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology, Maria-Victoria Mateos, MD, PhD, and colleagues, reported the results of COLUMBA, a phase 3 evaluation in 522 patients with multiple myeloma who were randomized to subcutaneous daratumumab (SC-Dara) or standard intravenous infusions of daratumumab (IV-Dara). A previous phase 1b study (Blood. 2017;130:838) had suggested comparable efficacy from the more convenient SC regime. Whereas conventional infusions of IV-Dara (16 mg/kg) take several hours, the SC formulation (1,800 mg–flat dose) is delivered in minutes. In COLUMBA, patients were randomized between SC- and IV-Dara weekly (cycles 1-2), then every 2 weeks (cycles 3-6), then every 4 weeks until disease progression.

Among the IV-Dara patients, the median duration of the first infusion was 421 minutes in cycle 1, 255 minutes in cycle 2, and 205 minutes in subsequent cycles – compatible with standard practice in the United States. As reported, at a median follow-up of 7.46 months, the efficacy (overall response rate, complete response rate, stringent-complete response rate, very good-partial response rate, progression-free survival, and 6-month overall survival) and safety profile were non-inferior for SC-Dara. SC-Dara patients also reported higher satisfaction with therapy.
 

What this means in practice

It is always a good idea to await publication of the manuscript because there may be study details and statistical nuances that make SC-Dara appear better than it will prove to be. For example, patient characteristics were slightly different between the two arms. Peer review of the final manuscript could be important in placing these results in context.

However, for treatments that demand frequent office visits over many months, reducing treatment burden for patients has value. Based on COLUMBA, it appears likely that SC-Dara will be a major convenience for patients, without obvious drawbacks in efficacy or toxicity. Meanwhile, flat dosing will be a time-saver for physicians, nursing, and pharmacy staff. If the price of the SC formulation is not exorbitant, I would expect a “win-win” that will support converting from IV- to SC-Dara as standard practice.

Acalabrutinib in CLL/SLL

Preclinical studies have shown acalabrutinib (Acala) to be more selective for Bruton’s tyrosine kinase (BTK) than the first-in-class agent ibrutinib, with less off-target kinase inhibition. As reported at the 2019 annual congress of the European Hematology Association by Paolo Ghia, MD, PhD, and colleagues in the phase 3 ASCEND trial, 310 patients with previously treated CLL were randomized between oral Acala twice daily and treatment of physician’s choice (TPC) – either idelalisib plus rituximab (maximum of seven infusions) or bendamustine plus rituximab (maximum of six cycles).

Progression-free survival was the primary endpoint. At a median of 16.1 months, progression-free survival had not been reached for Acala, in comparison with 16.5 months for TPC. Significant benefit of Acala was observed in all prognostic subsets.

Although there was no difference in overall survival at a median follow-up of about 16 months, 85% of Acala patients had a response lasting at least 12 months, compared with 60% of TPC patients. Adverse events of any grade occurred in 94% of patients treated with Acala, with 45% being grade 3-4 toxicities and six treatment-related deaths.

 

What this means in practice

The vast majority of CLL/SLL patients will relapse after primary therapy and will require further treatment, so the progression-free survival improvement associated with Acala in ASCEND is eye-catching. However, there are important considerations that demand closer scrutiny.

With oral agents administered until progression or unacceptable toxicity, low-grade toxicities can influence patient adherence, quality of life, and potentially the need for dose reduction or treatment interruptions. Regimens of finite duration and easy adherence monitoring may be, on balance, preferred by patients and providers – especially if the oral agent can be given in later-line with comparable overall survival.

With ibrutinib (Blood. 2017;129:2612-5), Paul M. Barr, MD, and colleagues demonstrated that higher dose intensity was associated with improved progression-free survival and that holds were associated with worsened progression-free survival. Acala’s promise of high efficacy and lower off-target toxicity will be solidified if the large (more than 500 patients) phase 3 ACE-CL-006 study (Acala vs. ibrutinib) demonstrates its relative benefit from efficacy, toxicity, and adherence perspectives, in comparison with a standard therapy that similarly demands adherence until disease progression or unacceptable toxicity.

Dr. Lyss has been a community-based medical oncologist and clinical researcher for more than 35 years, practicing in St. Louis. His clinical and research interests are in the prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of breast and lung cancers and in expanding access to clinical trials to medically underserved populations.

 

Is dementia a diagnosis?

I use it myself, although I find that some neurologists consider this blasphemy.

alexdans/Thinkstock

The problem is that there aren’t many terms to cover cognitive disorders beyond mild cognitive impairment (MCI). Phrases like “cortical degeneration” and “frontotemporal disorder” are difficult for families and patients. They aren’t medically trained and want something easy to write down.

“Alzheimer’s,” or – as one patient’s family member says, “the A-word” – is often more accurate, but has stigma attached to it that many don’t want, especially at a first visit. It also immediately conjures up feared images of nursing homes, wheelchairs, and bed-bound people.

So I use a diagnosis of dementia with many families, at least initially. Since, with occasional exceptions, we tend to perform a work-up of all cognitive disorders the same way, I don’t have a problem with using a more generic blanket term. As I sometimes try to simplify things, I’ll say, “It’s like squares and rectangles. Alzheimer’s disease is a dementia, but not all dementias are Alzheimer’s disease.”

I don’t do this to avoid confrontation, be dishonest, mislead patients and families, or avoid telling the truth. I still make it very clear that this is a progressive neurologic illness that will cause worsening cognitive problems over time. But many times families aren’t ready for “the A-word” early on, or there’s a concern the patient will harm themselves while they still have that capacity. Sometimes, it’s better to use a different phrase.

It may all be semantics, but on a personal level, a word can make a huge difference.

So I say dementia. In spite of some editorials I’ve seen saying we should retire the phrase, I argue that in many circumstances it’s still valid and useful.

It may not be a final, or even specific, diagnosis, but it is often the best and most socially acceptable one at the beginning of the doctor-patient-family relationship. When you’re trying to build rapport with them, that’s equally critical when you know what’s to come down the road.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

 

Is dementia a diagnosis?

I use it myself, although I find that some neurologists consider this blasphemy.

alexdans/Thinkstock

The problem is that there aren’t many terms to cover cognitive disorders beyond mild cognitive impairment (MCI). Phrases like “cortical degeneration” and “frontotemporal disorder” are difficult for families and patients. They aren’t medically trained and want something easy to write down.

“Alzheimer’s,” or – as one patient’s family member says, “the A-word” – is often more accurate, but has stigma attached to it that many don’t want, especially at a first visit. It also immediately conjures up feared images of nursing homes, wheelchairs, and bed-bound people.

So I use a diagnosis of dementia with many families, at least initially. Since, with occasional exceptions, we tend to perform a work-up of all cognitive disorders the same way, I don’t have a problem with using a more generic blanket term. As I sometimes try to simplify things, I’ll say, “It’s like squares and rectangles. Alzheimer’s disease is a dementia, but not all dementias are Alzheimer’s disease.”

I don’t do this to avoid confrontation, be dishonest, mislead patients and families, or avoid telling the truth. I still make it very clear that this is a progressive neurologic illness that will cause worsening cognitive problems over time. But many times families aren’t ready for “the A-word” early on, or there’s a concern the patient will harm themselves while they still have that capacity. Sometimes, it’s better to use a different phrase.

It may all be semantics, but on a personal level, a word can make a huge difference.

So I say dementia. In spite of some editorials I’ve seen saying we should retire the phrase, I argue that in many circumstances it’s still valid and useful.

It may not be a final, or even specific, diagnosis, but it is often the best and most socially acceptable one at the beginning of the doctor-patient-family relationship. When you’re trying to build rapport with them, that’s equally critical when you know what’s to come down the road.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

 

Is dementia a diagnosis?

I use it myself, although I find that some neurologists consider this blasphemy.

alexdans/Thinkstock

The problem is that there aren’t many terms to cover cognitive disorders beyond mild cognitive impairment (MCI). Phrases like “cortical degeneration” and “frontotemporal disorder” are difficult for families and patients. They aren’t medically trained and want something easy to write down.

“Alzheimer’s,” or – as one patient’s family member says, “the A-word” – is often more accurate, but has stigma attached to it that many don’t want, especially at a first visit. It also immediately conjures up feared images of nursing homes, wheelchairs, and bed-bound people.

So I use a diagnosis of dementia with many families, at least initially. Since, with occasional exceptions, we tend to perform a work-up of all cognitive disorders the same way, I don’t have a problem with using a more generic blanket term. As I sometimes try to simplify things, I’ll say, “It’s like squares and rectangles. Alzheimer’s disease is a dementia, but not all dementias are Alzheimer’s disease.”

I don’t do this to avoid confrontation, be dishonest, mislead patients and families, or avoid telling the truth. I still make it very clear that this is a progressive neurologic illness that will cause worsening cognitive problems over time. But many times families aren’t ready for “the A-word” early on, or there’s a concern the patient will harm themselves while they still have that capacity. Sometimes, it’s better to use a different phrase.

It may all be semantics, but on a personal level, a word can make a huge difference.

So I say dementia. In spite of some editorials I’ve seen saying we should retire the phrase, I argue that in many circumstances it’s still valid and useful.

It may not be a final, or even specific, diagnosis, but it is often the best and most socially acceptable one at the beginning of the doctor-patient-family relationship. When you’re trying to build rapport with them, that’s equally critical when you know what’s to come down the road.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Body art as a form of human expression is prevalent. The most common types are skin tattoos and piercings, but also include scarification, branding, subdermal implants, and body painting. Body painting has made headlines for its artistic creativity and artistic significance at annual week long temporary communities such as the annual Burning Man art festival.

Culture and history

Medioimages/Photodisc

Culturally, however, body painting has significant historical significance, with Henna painting described in the earliest Hindu Vedic ritual books dating back 5,000 years. Henna painting, most commonly of the hands and feet, known as Mehndi in the Indian subcontinent, signifies painting of symbolic representations of the outer and the inner sun, with the idea of “awakening the inner light.” It is also a common tradition of Hindu weddings and applied in Muslim tradition in India during Eid festivals. Body painting has also been used in other cultures for ceremonial, religious reasons, as well as forms of camouflage during hunting or war. Branding and scarification were used as methods of punishment during the Middle Ages in England and commonly during slavery in the Americas. Traditionally, though, branding and scarification have been seen in darker-skinned individuals as a form of self-expression where tattoos are not as effective visually. African tribes in Ethiopia and Sudan, as well as the Maasai people in Kenya, have used scarification and branding as an ancient art that can signify everything from beauty to transition to adulthood. Some black fraternities also use it as a mark of collegiality.

While tattoos are the most recognized form of body art, body and facial piercing are far more common in the general population among cultures throughout the world. While ear piercings are the most common, historically, nostril piercing has been documented in the Middle East as far back as 4,000 years ago, and both ear and nostril piercing and jewelry are mentioned historically in the Bible (Genesis 24:22, Isaiah 3:21). Ritual tongue piercing was reportedly performed by Aztec and Mayan Indians during ceremonies to honor their deities.



Current Practice

In practice, we see different types of piercings, including but not limited to ear, nose (alar, septum, bridge), eyebrow, lip, tongue, face, nipple, umbilical, and genital piercings. Ear piercings alone may come in many forms. Not only do location, cartilage versus no cartilage involvement, and age of piercing have different implications for care and potential risks/complications, so do the size, type, and shape of jewelry used for the piercing.

Having a better understanding of piercing art is important for dermatologists and dermatologic surgeons because we sometimes treat the sequelae, including infection, allergic reactions from the jewelry, and keloid scars. Patients may intentionally create large size piercings, known as gauge piercings, and decide later they no longer want them. Or earlobe piercings can unintentionally stretch and enlarge over time from prolonged wearing of heavy earrings or trauma, sometimes resulting in a partial or complete earlobe split, requiring surgical treatment for gauge or split earlobe repair. If repiercing earlobe repair is desired, most physicians wait at least 6-8 weeks. While different earlobe surgical repair techniques (most commonly Z-plasty) and even recommendations for subdermal implant removal are described in the literature, there are no real guidelines on when to repierce in the evidenced-based literature. Healing time in general for piercings also varies by site. For example, initial earlobe piercings typically take 1-2 months to heal, whereas ear cartilage and navel piercings may take 4-12 months.

Some medical practitioners may not be aware of tips known to top piercing professionals that can help guide patients on piercing care. Cartilage piercings can sometimes present with inflammation and nodule formation, even prior to true keloid formation. In my experience, a simple solution of washing daily with a highly alkaline but gentle natural soap, such as Dr. Bronner’s mild baby soap, or compresses or soaks with warm salt water, can sometimes reduce the inflammation and resolve nodule formation before topical, intralesional corticosteroids, or surgery is needed (a situation in which surgery may lead to further cartilage inflammation and hypertrophic scar formation). Additionally, certain pressure earrings may be used to help prevent keloid formation, in addition to wearing jewelry of a metal that is nonallergenic to the user, to prevent further inflammation.

Piercing is a common form of body art and self-expression. Understanding piercing art can not only help us understand how to better treat the sequelae of piercing, but also develop a better understanding of and relationship with our patients by virtue of their means of artistic self-expression.
 

 

Dr. Wesley and Dr. Talakoub are cocontributors to this column. Dr. Wesley practices dermatology in Beverly Hills, Calif. Dr. Talakoub is in private practice in McLean, Va. This month’s column is by Dr. Wesley. Write to them at dermnews@mdedge.com. They had no relevant disclosures.
 

Body art as a form of human expression is prevalent. The most common types are skin tattoos and piercings, but also include scarification, branding, subdermal implants, and body painting. Body painting has made headlines for its artistic creativity and artistic significance at annual week long temporary communities such as the annual Burning Man art festival.

Culture and history

Medioimages/Photodisc

Culturally, however, body painting has significant historical significance, with Henna painting described in the earliest Hindu Vedic ritual books dating back 5,000 years. Henna painting, most commonly of the hands and feet, known as Mehndi in the Indian subcontinent, signifies painting of symbolic representations of the outer and the inner sun, with the idea of “awakening the inner light.” It is also a common tradition of Hindu weddings and applied in Muslim tradition in India during Eid festivals. Body painting has also been used in other cultures for ceremonial, religious reasons, as well as forms of camouflage during hunting or war. Branding and scarification were used as methods of punishment during the Middle Ages in England and commonly during slavery in the Americas. Traditionally, though, branding and scarification have been seen in darker-skinned individuals as a form of self-expression where tattoos are not as effective visually. African tribes in Ethiopia and Sudan, as well as the Maasai people in Kenya, have used scarification and branding as an ancient art that can signify everything from beauty to transition to adulthood. Some black fraternities also use it as a mark of collegiality.

While tattoos are the most recognized form of body art, body and facial piercing are far more common in the general population among cultures throughout the world. While ear piercings are the most common, historically, nostril piercing has been documented in the Middle East as far back as 4,000 years ago, and both ear and nostril piercing and jewelry are mentioned historically in the Bible (Genesis 24:22, Isaiah 3:21). Ritual tongue piercing was reportedly performed by Aztec and Mayan Indians during ceremonies to honor their deities.



Current Practice

In practice, we see different types of piercings, including but not limited to ear, nose (alar, septum, bridge), eyebrow, lip, tongue, face, nipple, umbilical, and genital piercings. Ear piercings alone may come in many forms. Not only do location, cartilage versus no cartilage involvement, and age of piercing have different implications for care and potential risks/complications, so do the size, type, and shape of jewelry used for the piercing.

Having a better understanding of piercing art is important for dermatologists and dermatologic surgeons because we sometimes treat the sequelae, including infection, allergic reactions from the jewelry, and keloid scars. Patients may intentionally create large size piercings, known as gauge piercings, and decide later they no longer want them. Or earlobe piercings can unintentionally stretch and enlarge over time from prolonged wearing of heavy earrings or trauma, sometimes resulting in a partial or complete earlobe split, requiring surgical treatment for gauge or split earlobe repair. If repiercing earlobe repair is desired, most physicians wait at least 6-8 weeks. While different earlobe surgical repair techniques (most commonly Z-plasty) and even recommendations for subdermal implant removal are described in the literature, there are no real guidelines on when to repierce in the evidenced-based literature. Healing time in general for piercings also varies by site. For example, initial earlobe piercings typically take 1-2 months to heal, whereas ear cartilage and navel piercings may take 4-12 months.

Some medical practitioners may not be aware of tips known to top piercing professionals that can help guide patients on piercing care. Cartilage piercings can sometimes present with inflammation and nodule formation, even prior to true keloid formation. In my experience, a simple solution of washing daily with a highly alkaline but gentle natural soap, such as Dr. Bronner’s mild baby soap, or compresses or soaks with warm salt water, can sometimes reduce the inflammation and resolve nodule formation before topical, intralesional corticosteroids, or surgery is needed (a situation in which surgery may lead to further cartilage inflammation and hypertrophic scar formation). Additionally, certain pressure earrings may be used to help prevent keloid formation, in addition to wearing jewelry of a metal that is nonallergenic to the user, to prevent further inflammation.

Piercing is a common form of body art and self-expression. Understanding piercing art can not only help us understand how to better treat the sequelae of piercing, but also develop a better understanding of and relationship with our patients by virtue of their means of artistic self-expression.
 

 

Dr. Wesley and Dr. Talakoub are cocontributors to this column. Dr. Wesley practices dermatology in Beverly Hills, Calif. Dr. Talakoub is in private practice in McLean, Va. This month’s column is by Dr. Wesley. Write to them at dermnews@mdedge.com. They had no relevant disclosures.
 

Body art as a form of human expression is prevalent. The most common types are skin tattoos and piercings, but also include scarification, branding, subdermal implants, and body painting. Body painting has made headlines for its artistic creativity and artistic significance at annual week long temporary communities such as the annual Burning Man art festival.

Culture and history

Medioimages/Photodisc

Culturally, however, body painting has significant historical significance, with Henna painting described in the earliest Hindu Vedic ritual books dating back 5,000 years. Henna painting, most commonly of the hands and feet, known as Mehndi in the Indian subcontinent, signifies painting of symbolic representations of the outer and the inner sun, with the idea of “awakening the inner light.” It is also a common tradition of Hindu weddings and applied in Muslim tradition in India during Eid festivals. Body painting has also been used in other cultures for ceremonial, religious reasons, as well as forms of camouflage during hunting or war. Branding and scarification were used as methods of punishment during the Middle Ages in England and commonly during slavery in the Americas. Traditionally, though, branding and scarification have been seen in darker-skinned individuals as a form of self-expression where tattoos are not as effective visually. African tribes in Ethiopia and Sudan, as well as the Maasai people in Kenya, have used scarification and branding as an ancient art that can signify everything from beauty to transition to adulthood. Some black fraternities also use it as a mark of collegiality.

While tattoos are the most recognized form of body art, body and facial piercing are far more common in the general population among cultures throughout the world. While ear piercings are the most common, historically, nostril piercing has been documented in the Middle East as far back as 4,000 years ago, and both ear and nostril piercing and jewelry are mentioned historically in the Bible (Genesis 24:22, Isaiah 3:21). Ritual tongue piercing was reportedly performed by Aztec and Mayan Indians during ceremonies to honor their deities.



Current Practice

In practice, we see different types of piercings, including but not limited to ear, nose (alar, septum, bridge), eyebrow, lip, tongue, face, nipple, umbilical, and genital piercings. Ear piercings alone may come in many forms. Not only do location, cartilage versus no cartilage involvement, and age of piercing have different implications for care and potential risks/complications, so do the size, type, and shape of jewelry used for the piercing.

Having a better understanding of piercing art is important for dermatologists and dermatologic surgeons because we sometimes treat the sequelae, including infection, allergic reactions from the jewelry, and keloid scars. Patients may intentionally create large size piercings, known as gauge piercings, and decide later they no longer want them. Or earlobe piercings can unintentionally stretch and enlarge over time from prolonged wearing of heavy earrings or trauma, sometimes resulting in a partial or complete earlobe split, requiring surgical treatment for gauge or split earlobe repair. If repiercing earlobe repair is desired, most physicians wait at least 6-8 weeks. While different earlobe surgical repair techniques (most commonly Z-plasty) and even recommendations for subdermal implant removal are described in the literature, there are no real guidelines on when to repierce in the evidenced-based literature. Healing time in general for piercings also varies by site. For example, initial earlobe piercings typically take 1-2 months to heal, whereas ear cartilage and navel piercings may take 4-12 months.

Some medical practitioners may not be aware of tips known to top piercing professionals that can help guide patients on piercing care. Cartilage piercings can sometimes present with inflammation and nodule formation, even prior to true keloid formation. In my experience, a simple solution of washing daily with a highly alkaline but gentle natural soap, such as Dr. Bronner’s mild baby soap, or compresses or soaks with warm salt water, can sometimes reduce the inflammation and resolve nodule formation before topical, intralesional corticosteroids, or surgery is needed (a situation in which surgery may lead to further cartilage inflammation and hypertrophic scar formation). Additionally, certain pressure earrings may be used to help prevent keloid formation, in addition to wearing jewelry of a metal that is nonallergenic to the user, to prevent further inflammation.

Piercing is a common form of body art and self-expression. Understanding piercing art can not only help us understand how to better treat the sequelae of piercing, but also develop a better understanding of and relationship with our patients by virtue of their means of artistic self-expression.
 

 

Dr. Wesley and Dr. Talakoub are cocontributors to this column. Dr. Wesley practices dermatology in Beverly Hills, Calif. Dr. Talakoub is in private practice in McLean, Va. This month’s column is by Dr. Wesley. Write to them at dermnews@mdedge.com. They had no relevant disclosures.
 

 

I had just received my sign-out for the day. My pager beeped, and I heard it overhead “Code Blue Room X.” Hospitalist physicians lead the code team in our hospital; I quickly headed to the room.

A young man in his forties was found to be unconscious on the floor. One of the nurses had started cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) as the patient was unconscious and had no palpable pulse. It was a long, drawn-out battle: CPR, cracking bones, shouting, lots of needles – an extreme roller-coaster-style situation. The patient had recently had a hip surgery and our suspicion was a massive pulmonary embolism. We ran the exhaustive code for more than an hour and then I started to debrief with my code team; discussed that treatment was getting futile and asked for opinions. Finally, I asked the team to stop and pronounced the patient dead. I felt terrible. Later that day I returned to my house, tossed my bag in the corner, and sympathized with myself – “Hello Dr. B, It was a tough one.”

Stopping resuscitation was one of the toughest decisions I had ever made, and I wondered if I would be able to make such a decision the next day. What if I had carried on? I had led code teams during my residency training and as an attending physician; but there was something different that day. This patient was a young man with no history of medical problems. Every physician knows how to initiate resuscitation for cardiopulmonary arrest (CPA); only a few know when to stop it. Did I miss this learning during my internal medicine training? I checked my red pocket leaflet with advanced cardiac life support (ACLS) algorithms, and it had no mention of it. I searched Google Scholar, PubMed, and UpToDate and surprisingly, I found no predetermined rule but only a few recommendations on when CPR should be stopped. The American Heart Association is clear that the decision to terminate resuscitative efforts rests with the treating physician in the hospital.

In my experience, the length of time to continue a code can vary widely and is mostly dependent on the physician running the code. I have seen it last 15 minutes (which is reasonable) and I have seen it last for 50 minutes when the initial rhythm was ventricular fibrillation. And if perhaps the patient regains a pulse temporarily, only to lose it again, we restart the clock. One needs to take into account various factors including time to CPR, time to defibrillation, comorbid disease, prearrest state, and initial arrest rhythm in making these decisions. It’s well understood that none of these factors alone or in combination is clearly predictive of outcome.¹

Some selected patients potentially have good outcomes with prolonged, aggressive resuscitation. So when should we stop, and when should we continue resuscitation? This is always challenging. Physicians hate to stop CPR even when they know it’s time. We are guided by the Hippocratic Oath to save lives. Sometimes, even if we want to stop, we tend to continue to avoid being criticized for stopping; we are systematically biased against stopping CPR. We routinely run long codes, in part because we are not sure which patients we can bring back.

A 2012 Lancet study highlighted that the median duration of resuscitation was 12 minutes for patients achieving the return of spontaneous circulation and 20 minutes for nonsurvivors.² The ethical guidelines issued by AHA in 2018 highlight that, in the absence of mitigating factors, prolonged resuscitative efforts for adults and children are unlikely to be successful and can be discontinued if there is no return of spontaneous circulation at any time during 30 minutes of cumulative ACLS. If the return of spontaneous circulation of any duration occurs at any time, however, it may be appropriate to consider extending the resuscitative effort.³

I believe a careful balance of the patient’s prognosis for both length of life and quality of life will determine whether continued CPR is appropriate. The responsible clinician should stop the resuscitative effort when he or she determines with a high degree of certainty that the arrest victim will not respond to further efforts. But what will help me guide my decisions next time if I ever come across this situation again?

I discussed my dilemma with one of our intensivist physicians; he expressed that in a similar scenario he would ask for opinions from other members of the code team. The role of good communication among code team members is necessary to exchange relevant knowledge in real time in a collaborative, nonhierarchical environment. The code team can provide the team leader with quick, accurate information about the patient’s clinical history that is critical to good decision making.

Family support is also an essential part of any resuscitation. Health care providers need to offer the opportunity to be present to family members during the resuscitation attempts whenever possible. One team member should be assigned to the family to answer questions, clarify information, and offer comfort, but physicians should not be asking family members to decide to stop the code. It is important to note that the decision should be made by the team leader and not the patient’s family members. Regardless of the age or condition of the patient, the loss of a loved one is difficult to deal with, even if expected. The issue becomes more difficult with changes in legal, cultural, or personal perspectives.

The AHA in 2018 stated that the treating physician is expected to understand the patient and the arrest features, and the system factors that have prognostic importance for resuscitation.³ For clinicians who work in critical care settings, the framework presented by AHA is intuitive. As a code leader, I can always give more epinephrine, try a clot-busting drug or deliver another shock. Situations vary greatly during a code, and the amount of time spent resuscitating a patient before terminating efforts is not set in stone. In many cases, it is a judgment call. The process of CPR is almost as disheartening as its bleak outcomes.

In-hospital CPAs are inevitably gruesome. Each day as an attending physician, we are faced with difficult decisions, but experiencing these incredibly difficult and life-changing events can make for good learning. A CPA situation in action is very difficult for all concerned, particularly when there is almost no chance of success. But an unsuccessful or aborted resuscitation is also a huge loss for both the family and the code team. One of the critical functions of the code team leader is to review the events of a code and exercise judgment while evaluating the length of a code. This can be an intense and emotional experience, but with these principles in mind, we can feel reassured that we are making the best decision possible, for the patient, the family, and our team.

Dr. Basnet is a hospitalist physician in the department of internal medicine at Eastern New Mexico Medical Center, Roswell.

References

1. Part 2: Ethical aspects of CPR and ECC. Circulation. 2000;102(8):I12.

2. Goldberger ZD et al. Duration of resuscitation efforts and survival after in-hospital cardiac arrest: An observational study. The Lancet. 2012;380(9852):1473-81.

3. Sirbaugh PE et al. A prospective, population-based study of the demographics, epidemiology, management, and outcome of out-of-hospital pediatric cardiopulmonary arrest. Ann Emerg Med. 1999;33(2):174-84.

 

I had just received my sign-out for the day. My pager beeped, and I heard it overhead “Code Blue Room X.” Hospitalist physicians lead the code team in our hospital; I quickly headed to the room.

A young man in his forties was found to be unconscious on the floor. One of the nurses had started cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) as the patient was unconscious and had no palpable pulse. It was a long, drawn-out battle: CPR, cracking bones, shouting, lots of needles – an extreme roller-coaster-style situation. The patient had recently had a hip surgery and our suspicion was a massive pulmonary embolism. We ran the exhaustive code for more than an hour and then I started to debrief with my code team; discussed that treatment was getting futile and asked for opinions. Finally, I asked the team to stop and pronounced the patient dead. I felt terrible. Later that day I returned to my house, tossed my bag in the corner, and sympathized with myself – “Hello Dr. B, It was a tough one.”

Stopping resuscitation was one of the toughest decisions I had ever made, and I wondered if I would be able to make such a decision the next day. What if I had carried on? I had led code teams during my residency training and as an attending physician; but there was something different that day. This patient was a young man with no history of medical problems. Every physician knows how to initiate resuscitation for cardiopulmonary arrest (CPA); only a few know when to stop it. Did I miss this learning during my internal medicine training? I checked my red pocket leaflet with advanced cardiac life support (ACLS) algorithms, and it had no mention of it. I searched Google Scholar, PubMed, and UpToDate and surprisingly, I found no predetermined rule but only a few recommendations on when CPR should be stopped. The American Heart Association is clear that the decision to terminate resuscitative efforts rests with the treating physician in the hospital.

In my experience, the length of time to continue a code can vary widely and is mostly dependent on the physician running the code. I have seen it last 15 minutes (which is reasonable) and I have seen it last for 50 minutes when the initial rhythm was ventricular fibrillation. And if perhaps the patient regains a pulse temporarily, only to lose it again, we restart the clock. One needs to take into account various factors including time to CPR, time to defibrillation, comorbid disease, prearrest state, and initial arrest rhythm in making these decisions. It’s well understood that none of these factors alone or in combination is clearly predictive of outcome.¹

Some selected patients potentially have good outcomes with prolonged, aggressive resuscitation. So when should we stop, and when should we continue resuscitation? This is always challenging. Physicians hate to stop CPR even when they know it’s time. We are guided by the Hippocratic Oath to save lives. Sometimes, even if we want to stop, we tend to continue to avoid being criticized for stopping; we are systematically biased against stopping CPR. We routinely run long codes, in part because we are not sure which patients we can bring back.

A 2012 Lancet study highlighted that the median duration of resuscitation was 12 minutes for patients achieving the return of spontaneous circulation and 20 minutes for nonsurvivors.² The ethical guidelines issued by AHA in 2018 highlight that, in the absence of mitigating factors, prolonged resuscitative efforts for adults and children are unlikely to be successful and can be discontinued if there is no return of spontaneous circulation at any time during 30 minutes of cumulative ACLS. If the return of spontaneous circulation of any duration occurs at any time, however, it may be appropriate to consider extending the resuscitative effort.³

I believe a careful balance of the patient’s prognosis for both length of life and quality of life will determine whether continued CPR is appropriate. The responsible clinician should stop the resuscitative effort when he or she determines with a high degree of certainty that the arrest victim will not respond to further efforts. But what will help me guide my decisions next time if I ever come across this situation again?

I discussed my dilemma with one of our intensivist physicians; he expressed that in a similar scenario he would ask for opinions from other members of the code team. The role of good communication among code team members is necessary to exchange relevant knowledge in real time in a collaborative, nonhierarchical environment. The code team can provide the team leader with quick, accurate information about the patient’s clinical history that is critical to good decision making.

Family support is also an essential part of any resuscitation. Health care providers need to offer the opportunity to be present to family members during the resuscitation attempts whenever possible. One team member should be assigned to the family to answer questions, clarify information, and offer comfort, but physicians should not be asking family members to decide to stop the code. It is important to note that the decision should be made by the team leader and not the patient’s family members. Regardless of the age or condition of the patient, the loss of a loved one is difficult to deal with, even if expected. The issue becomes more difficult with changes in legal, cultural, or personal perspectives.

The AHA in 2018 stated that the treating physician is expected to understand the patient and the arrest features, and the system factors that have prognostic importance for resuscitation.³ For clinicians who work in critical care settings, the framework presented by AHA is intuitive. As a code leader, I can always give more epinephrine, try a clot-busting drug or deliver another shock. Situations vary greatly during a code, and the amount of time spent resuscitating a patient before terminating efforts is not set in stone. In many cases, it is a judgment call. The process of CPR is almost as disheartening as its bleak outcomes.

In-hospital CPAs are inevitably gruesome. Each day as an attending physician, we are faced with difficult decisions, but experiencing these incredibly difficult and life-changing events can make for good learning. A CPA situation in action is very difficult for all concerned, particularly when there is almost no chance of success. But an unsuccessful or aborted resuscitation is also a huge loss for both the family and the code team. One of the critical functions of the code team leader is to review the events of a code and exercise judgment while evaluating the length of a code. This can be an intense and emotional experience, but with these principles in mind, we can feel reassured that we are making the best decision possible, for the patient, the family, and our team.

Dr. Basnet is a hospitalist physician in the department of internal medicine at Eastern New Mexico Medical Center, Roswell.

References

1. Part 2: Ethical aspects of CPR and ECC. Circulation. 2000;102(8):I12.

2. Goldberger ZD et al. Duration of resuscitation efforts and survival after in-hospital cardiac arrest: An observational study. The Lancet. 2012;380(9852):1473-81.

3. Sirbaugh PE et al. A prospective, population-based study of the demographics, epidemiology, management, and outcome of out-of-hospital pediatric cardiopulmonary arrest. Ann Emerg Med. 1999;33(2):174-84.

 

I had just received my sign-out for the day. My pager beeped, and I heard it overhead “Code Blue Room X.” Hospitalist physicians lead the code team in our hospital; I quickly headed to the room.

A young man in his forties was found to be unconscious on the floor. One of the nurses had started cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) as the patient was unconscious and had no palpable pulse. It was a long, drawn-out battle: CPR, cracking bones, shouting, lots of needles – an extreme roller-coaster-style situation. The patient had recently had a hip surgery and our suspicion was a massive pulmonary embolism. We ran the exhaustive code for more than an hour and then I started to debrief with my code team; discussed that treatment was getting futile and asked for opinions. Finally, I asked the team to stop and pronounced the patient dead. I felt terrible. Later that day I returned to my house, tossed my bag in the corner, and sympathized with myself – “Hello Dr. B, It was a tough one.”

Stopping resuscitation was one of the toughest decisions I had ever made, and I wondered if I would be able to make such a decision the next day. What if I had carried on? I had led code teams during my residency training and as an attending physician; but there was something different that day. This patient was a young man with no history of medical problems. Every physician knows how to initiate resuscitation for cardiopulmonary arrest (CPA); only a few know when to stop it. Did I miss this learning during my internal medicine training? I checked my red pocket leaflet with advanced cardiac life support (ACLS) algorithms, and it had no mention of it. I searched Google Scholar, PubMed, and UpToDate and surprisingly, I found no predetermined rule but only a few recommendations on when CPR should be stopped. The American Heart Association is clear that the decision to terminate resuscitative efforts rests with the treating physician in the hospital.

In my experience, the length of time to continue a code can vary widely and is mostly dependent on the physician running the code. I have seen it last 15 minutes (which is reasonable) and I have seen it last for 50 minutes when the initial rhythm was ventricular fibrillation. And if perhaps the patient regains a pulse temporarily, only to lose it again, we restart the clock. One needs to take into account various factors including time to CPR, time to defibrillation, comorbid disease, prearrest state, and initial arrest rhythm in making these decisions. It’s well understood that none of these factors alone or in combination is clearly predictive of outcome.¹

Some selected patients potentially have good outcomes with prolonged, aggressive resuscitation. So when should we stop, and when should we continue resuscitation? This is always challenging. Physicians hate to stop CPR even when they know it’s time. We are guided by the Hippocratic Oath to save lives. Sometimes, even if we want to stop, we tend to continue to avoid being criticized for stopping; we are systematically biased against stopping CPR. We routinely run long codes, in part because we are not sure which patients we can bring back.

A 2012 Lancet study highlighted that the median duration of resuscitation was 12 minutes for patients achieving the return of spontaneous circulation and 20 minutes for nonsurvivors.² The ethical guidelines issued by AHA in 2018 highlight that, in the absence of mitigating factors, prolonged resuscitative efforts for adults and children are unlikely to be successful and can be discontinued if there is no return of spontaneous circulation at any time during 30 minutes of cumulative ACLS. If the return of spontaneous circulation of any duration occurs at any time, however, it may be appropriate to consider extending the resuscitative effort.³

I believe a careful balance of the patient’s prognosis for both length of life and quality of life will determine whether continued CPR is appropriate. The responsible clinician should stop the resuscitative effort when he or she determines with a high degree of certainty that the arrest victim will not respond to further efforts. But what will help me guide my decisions next time if I ever come across this situation again?

I discussed my dilemma with one of our intensivist physicians; he expressed that in a similar scenario he would ask for opinions from other members of the code team. The role of good communication among code team members is necessary to exchange relevant knowledge in real time in a collaborative, nonhierarchical environment. The code team can provide the team leader with quick, accurate information about the patient’s clinical history that is critical to good decision making.

Family support is also an essential part of any resuscitation. Health care providers need to offer the opportunity to be present to family members during the resuscitation attempts whenever possible. One team member should be assigned to the family to answer questions, clarify information, and offer comfort, but physicians should not be asking family members to decide to stop the code. It is important to note that the decision should be made by the team leader and not the patient’s family members. Regardless of the age or condition of the patient, the loss of a loved one is difficult to deal with, even if expected. The issue becomes more difficult with changes in legal, cultural, or personal perspectives.

The AHA in 2018 stated that the treating physician is expected to understand the patient and the arrest features, and the system factors that have prognostic importance for resuscitation.³ For clinicians who work in critical care settings, the framework presented by AHA is intuitive. As a code leader, I can always give more epinephrine, try a clot-busting drug or deliver another shock. Situations vary greatly during a code, and the amount of time spent resuscitating a patient before terminating efforts is not set in stone. In many cases, it is a judgment call. The process of CPR is almost as disheartening as its bleak outcomes.

In-hospital CPAs are inevitably gruesome. Each day as an attending physician, we are faced with difficult decisions, but experiencing these incredibly difficult and life-changing events can make for good learning. A CPA situation in action is very difficult for all concerned, particularly when there is almost no chance of success. But an unsuccessful or aborted resuscitation is also a huge loss for both the family and the code team. One of the critical functions of the code team leader is to review the events of a code and exercise judgment while evaluating the length of a code. This can be an intense and emotional experience, but with these principles in mind, we can feel reassured that we are making the best decision possible, for the patient, the family, and our team.

Dr. Basnet is a hospitalist physician in the department of internal medicine at Eastern New Mexico Medical Center, Roswell.

References

1. Part 2: Ethical aspects of CPR and ECC. Circulation. 2000;102(8):I12.

2. Goldberger ZD et al. Duration of resuscitation efforts and survival after in-hospital cardiac arrest: An observational study. The Lancet. 2012;380(9852):1473-81.

3. Sirbaugh PE et al. A prospective, population-based study of the demographics, epidemiology, management, and outcome of out-of-hospital pediatric cardiopulmonary arrest. Ann Emerg Med. 1999;33(2):174-84.

At a recent Recreation Commission meeting here in Brunswick, the first agenda item under new business was “Coffin Pond Pool Closing.” As I and my fellow commissioners listened, we were told that for the first time in the last 3 decades the town’s only public swimming area would not be opening. While in the past there have been delayed openings and temporary closings due to water conditions, this year the pool would not open, period. The cause of the pool’s closure was the Parks and Recreation Department’s failure to fill even a skeleton crew of lifeguards.

Lokibaho/Getty Images

We learned that the situation here in Brunswick was not unique and most other communities around the state and even around the country were struggling to find lifeguards. The shortage of trained staff has been nationwide for several years, and many beaches and pools particularly in the Northeast and Middle Atlantic states were being forced to close or shorten hours of operation (“During the Pool Season Even Lifeguard Numbers are Taking a Dive,” by Leoneda Inge, July 28, 2015, NPR’s All Thing Considered).

You might think that here on the coast we would have ample places for children to swim, but in Brunswick our shore is rocky and often inaccessible. At the few sandy beaches, the water temperature is too cold for all but the hardy souls until late August. The closure of our lone public swimming venue is going to deprive many of the town’s children a chance to swim. Lower-income families will be particularly affected by the loss of the pool.

When I was growing up, lifeguarding was a plum job that was highly coveted. While it did not pay as well as working construction, the perks of a pleasant atmosphere, the chance to swim every day, and the opportunity to work outside with children prompted me at age 16 to sell my lawn mower and bequeath my lucrative landscaping customers to a couple of preteens. Looking back, my 4 years of lifeguarding were probably a major influence when it came time to choose a specialty.

However, a perfect storm of socioeconomic factors has combined to create a climate in which being a lifeguard has lost its appeal as a summertime job. First, there is record low unemployment nationwide. Young people looking for work have their pick, and while wages still remain low, they can be choosy when it comes to hours and benefits. Lifeguarding does require a skill set and several hoops of certification to be navigated. I don’t recall having to pay much of anything to become certified. But I understand that the process now costs hundreds of dollars of upfront investment with no guarantee of passing the test.

In May, the American Academy of Pediatrics published a policy paper titled “Prevention of Drowning” (Pediatrics. 2019 May 1. doi: 10.1542/peds.2019-0850) in which the authors offer the troubling statistics on the toll that water-related accidents take on the children of this country annually. They go on to provide a broad list of actions that parents, communities, and pediatricians can take to prevent drownings. Under the category of Community Interventions and Advocacy Opportunities, recommendation No. 4 is “Pediatricians should work with community partners to provide access to programs that develop water-competency swim skills for all children.”

Obviously, these programs can’t happen without an adequate supply of lifeguards.

Unfortunately, the AAP’s statement fails to acknowledge or directly address the lifeguard shortage that has been going on for several years. While an adequate supply of lifeguards is probably not as important as increasing parental attentiveness and mandating pool fences in the overall scheme of drowning prevention, it is an issue that demands action both by the academy and those of us practicing in communities both large and small.

For my part, I am going to work here in Brunswick to see that we can offer lifeguards pay that is more than competitive and then develop an in-house training program to ensure a continuing supply for the future. If we are committed to encouraging our patients to be active, swimming is one of the best activities we should promote and support.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

At a recent Recreation Commission meeting here in Brunswick, the first agenda item under new business was “Coffin Pond Pool Closing.” As I and my fellow commissioners listened, we were told that for the first time in the last 3 decades the town’s only public swimming area would not be opening. While in the past there have been delayed openings and temporary closings due to water conditions, this year the pool would not open, period. The cause of the pool’s closure was the Parks and Recreation Department’s failure to fill even a skeleton crew of lifeguards.

Lokibaho/Getty Images

We learned that the situation here in Brunswick was not unique and most other communities around the state and even around the country were struggling to find lifeguards. The shortage of trained staff has been nationwide for several years, and many beaches and pools particularly in the Northeast and Middle Atlantic states were being forced to close or shorten hours of operation (“During the Pool Season Even Lifeguard Numbers are Taking a Dive,” by Leoneda Inge, July 28, 2015, NPR’s All Thing Considered).

You might think that here on the coast we would have ample places for children to swim, but in Brunswick our shore is rocky and often inaccessible. At the few sandy beaches, the water temperature is too cold for all but the hardy souls until late August. The closure of our lone public swimming venue is going to deprive many of the town’s children a chance to swim. Lower-income families will be particularly affected by the loss of the pool.

When I was growing up, lifeguarding was a plum job that was highly coveted. While it did not pay as well as working construction, the perks of a pleasant atmosphere, the chance to swim every day, and the opportunity to work outside with children prompted me at age 16 to sell my lawn mower and bequeath my lucrative landscaping customers to a couple of preteens. Looking back, my 4 years of lifeguarding were probably a major influence when it came time to choose a specialty.

However, a perfect storm of socioeconomic factors has combined to create a climate in which being a lifeguard has lost its appeal as a summertime job. First, there is record low unemployment nationwide. Young people looking for work have their pick, and while wages still remain low, they can be choosy when it comes to hours and benefits. Lifeguarding does require a skill set and several hoops of certification to be navigated. I don’t recall having to pay much of anything to become certified. But I understand that the process now costs hundreds of dollars of upfront investment with no guarantee of passing the test.

In May, the American Academy of Pediatrics published a policy paper titled “Prevention of Drowning” (Pediatrics. 2019 May 1. doi: 10.1542/peds.2019-0850) in which the authors offer the troubling statistics on the toll that water-related accidents take on the children of this country annually. They go on to provide a broad list of actions that parents, communities, and pediatricians can take to prevent drownings. Under the category of Community Interventions and Advocacy Opportunities, recommendation No. 4 is “Pediatricians should work with community partners to provide access to programs that develop water-competency swim skills for all children.”

Obviously, these programs can’t happen without an adequate supply of lifeguards.

Unfortunately, the AAP’s statement fails to acknowledge or directly address the lifeguard shortage that has been going on for several years. While an adequate supply of lifeguards is probably not as important as increasing parental attentiveness and mandating pool fences in the overall scheme of drowning prevention, it is an issue that demands action both by the academy and those of us practicing in communities both large and small.

For my part, I am going to work here in Brunswick to see that we can offer lifeguards pay that is more than competitive and then develop an in-house training program to ensure a continuing supply for the future. If we are committed to encouraging our patients to be active, swimming is one of the best activities we should promote and support.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

At a recent Recreation Commission meeting here in Brunswick, the first agenda item under new business was “Coffin Pond Pool Closing.” As I and my fellow commissioners listened, we were told that for the first time in the last 3 decades the town’s only public swimming area would not be opening. While in the past there have been delayed openings and temporary closings due to water conditions, this year the pool would not open, period. The cause of the pool’s closure was the Parks and Recreation Department’s failure to fill even a skeleton crew of lifeguards.

Lokibaho/Getty Images

We learned that the situation here in Brunswick was not unique and most other communities around the state and even around the country were struggling to find lifeguards. The shortage of trained staff has been nationwide for several years, and many beaches and pools particularly in the Northeast and Middle Atlantic states were being forced to close or shorten hours of operation (“During the Pool Season Even Lifeguard Numbers are Taking a Dive,” by Leoneda Inge, July 28, 2015, NPR’s All Thing Considered).

You might think that here on the coast we would have ample places for children to swim, but in Brunswick our shore is rocky and often inaccessible. At the few sandy beaches, the water temperature is too cold for all but the hardy souls until late August. The closure of our lone public swimming venue is going to deprive many of the town’s children a chance to swim. Lower-income families will be particularly affected by the loss of the pool.

When I was growing up, lifeguarding was a plum job that was highly coveted. While it did not pay as well as working construction, the perks of a pleasant atmosphere, the chance to swim every day, and the opportunity to work outside with children prompted me at age 16 to sell my lawn mower and bequeath my lucrative landscaping customers to a couple of preteens. Looking back, my 4 years of lifeguarding were probably a major influence when it came time to choose a specialty.

However, a perfect storm of socioeconomic factors has combined to create a climate in which being a lifeguard has lost its appeal as a summertime job. First, there is record low unemployment nationwide. Young people looking for work have their pick, and while wages still remain low, they can be choosy when it comes to hours and benefits. Lifeguarding does require a skill set and several hoops of certification to be navigated. I don’t recall having to pay much of anything to become certified. But I understand that the process now costs hundreds of dollars of upfront investment with no guarantee of passing the test.

In May, the American Academy of Pediatrics published a policy paper titled “Prevention of Drowning” (Pediatrics. 2019 May 1. doi: 10.1542/peds.2019-0850) in which the authors offer the troubling statistics on the toll that water-related accidents take on the children of this country annually. They go on to provide a broad list of actions that parents, communities, and pediatricians can take to prevent drownings. Under the category of Community Interventions and Advocacy Opportunities, recommendation No. 4 is “Pediatricians should work with community partners to provide access to programs that develop water-competency swim skills for all children.”

Obviously, these programs can’t happen without an adequate supply of lifeguards.

Unfortunately, the AAP’s statement fails to acknowledge or directly address the lifeguard shortage that has been going on for several years. While an adequate supply of lifeguards is probably not as important as increasing parental attentiveness and mandating pool fences in the overall scheme of drowning prevention, it is an issue that demands action both by the academy and those of us practicing in communities both large and small.

For my part, I am going to work here in Brunswick to see that we can offer lifeguards pay that is more than competitive and then develop an in-house training program to ensure a continuing supply for the future. If we are committed to encouraging our patients to be active, swimming is one of the best activities we should promote and support.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.