William G. Wilkoff, MD

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon a two-sentence blurb in a pediatric newsletter summarizing the results of a study comparing the chemical profile of infant body odor with that of postpubertal adolescents. The investigators found that, not surprisingly, the smell of the chemical constituents wafting from babies was more appealing than that emanating from sweaty teenagers. I quickly moved on to the next blurb hoping to find something I hadn’t already experienced or figured out on my own.

But, as I navigated through the rest of my day filled with pickleball, bicycling, and the smell of home-cooked food, something about that study of body odor nagged at me. Who had funded that voyage into the obvious? Were my tax dollars involved? Had I been duped by some alleged nonprofit that had promised my donation would save lives or at least ameliorate suffering? Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, my curiosity got the best of me and I searched out the original study. Within minutes I fell down a rabbit hole into the cavernous world of odor science.

Having had zero experience in this niche field, I was amazed at the lengths to which these German odor investigators had gone to analyze the chemicals on and around their subjects. Just trying to ensure that materials and microclimates in the experimental environment were scent-free was a heroic effort. There was “Mono-trap sampling of volatiles, followed by thermodesorption-comprehensive gas chromatography, and time of flight-mass spectrometry analysis.” There were graphs and charts galore. This is serious science, folks. However, they still use the abbreviation “BO” freely, just as I learned to do in junior high. And, in some situations, the investigators relied on the observation of a panel of trained human sniffers to assess the detection threshold and the degree of pleasantness.

Ultimately, the authors’ conclusion was “sexual maturation coincides with changes in body odor chemical composition. Whether those changes explain differences in parental olfactory perception needs to be determined in future studies.” Again, no surprises here.

Exhausted by my venture into the realm of odor science, I finally found the answer to my burning question. The study was supported by the German Research Foundation and the European Union. Phew! Not on my nickel.

Lest you think that I believe any investigation into the potential role of smell in our health and well-being is pure bunk, let me make it clear that I think the role of odor detection is one of the least well-studied and potentially most valuable areas of medical research. Having had one family tell me that their black lab had twice successfully “diagnosed” their pre-verbal child’s ear infection (which I confirmed with an otoscope and the tympanic membrane was intact) I have been keenly interested in the role of animal-assisted diagnosis.

If you also have wondered whether you could write off your pedigreed Portuguese Water Dog as an office expense, I would direct you to an article titled “Canine olfactory detection and its relevance to medical detection.” The authors note that there is some evidence of dogs successfully alerting physicians to Parkinson’s disease, some cancers, malaria, and COVID-19, among others. However, they caution that the reliability is, in most cases, not of a quality that would be helpful on a larger scale.

I can understand the reasons for their caution. However, from my own personal experience, I am completely confident that I can diagnose strep throat by smell, sometimes simply on opening the examination room door. My false-positive rate over 40 years of practice is zero. Of course I still test and, not surprisingly, my false-negative rate is nothing to brag about. However, if a dog can produce even close to my zero false negative with a given disease, that information is valuable and suggests that we should be pointing the odor investigators and their tool box of skills in that direction. I’m pretty sure we don’t need them to dig much deeper into why babies smell better than teenagers.
 

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

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon a two-sentence blurb in a pediatric newsletter summarizing the results of a study comparing the chemical profile of infant body odor with that of postpubertal adolescents. The investigators found that, not surprisingly, the smell of the chemical constituents wafting from babies was more appealing than that emanating from sweaty teenagers. I quickly moved on to the next blurb hoping to find something I hadn’t already experienced or figured out on my own.

But, as I navigated through the rest of my day filled with pickleball, bicycling, and the smell of home-cooked food, something about that study of body odor nagged at me. Who had funded that voyage into the obvious? Were my tax dollars involved? Had I been duped by some alleged nonprofit that had promised my donation would save lives or at least ameliorate suffering? Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, my curiosity got the best of me and I searched out the original study. Within minutes I fell down a rabbit hole into the cavernous world of odor science.

Having had zero experience in this niche field, I was amazed at the lengths to which these German odor investigators had gone to analyze the chemicals on and around their subjects. Just trying to ensure that materials and microclimates in the experimental environment were scent-free was a heroic effort. There was “Mono-trap sampling of volatiles, followed by thermodesorption-comprehensive gas chromatography, and time of flight-mass spectrometry analysis.” There were graphs and charts galore. This is serious science, folks. However, they still use the abbreviation “BO” freely, just as I learned to do in junior high. And, in some situations, the investigators relied on the observation of a panel of trained human sniffers to assess the detection threshold and the degree of pleasantness.

Ultimately, the authors’ conclusion was “sexual maturation coincides with changes in body odor chemical composition. Whether those changes explain differences in parental olfactory perception needs to be determined in future studies.” Again, no surprises here.

Exhausted by my venture into the realm of odor science, I finally found the answer to my burning question. The study was supported by the German Research Foundation and the European Union. Phew! Not on my nickel.

Lest you think that I believe any investigation into the potential role of smell in our health and well-being is pure bunk, let me make it clear that I think the role of odor detection is one of the least well-studied and potentially most valuable areas of medical research. Having had one family tell me that their black lab had twice successfully “diagnosed” their pre-verbal child’s ear infection (which I confirmed with an otoscope and the tympanic membrane was intact) I have been keenly interested in the role of animal-assisted diagnosis.

If you also have wondered whether you could write off your pedigreed Portuguese Water Dog as an office expense, I would direct you to an article titled “Canine olfactory detection and its relevance to medical detection.” The authors note that there is some evidence of dogs successfully alerting physicians to Parkinson’s disease, some cancers, malaria, and COVID-19, among others. However, they caution that the reliability is, in most cases, not of a quality that would be helpful on a larger scale.

I can understand the reasons for their caution. However, from my own personal experience, I am completely confident that I can diagnose strep throat by smell, sometimes simply on opening the examination room door. My false-positive rate over 40 years of practice is zero. Of course I still test and, not surprisingly, my false-negative rate is nothing to brag about. However, if a dog can produce even close to my zero false negative with a given disease, that information is valuable and suggests that we should be pointing the odor investigators and their tool box of skills in that direction. I’m pretty sure we don’t need them to dig much deeper into why babies smell better than teenagers.
 

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

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon a two-sentence blurb in a pediatric newsletter summarizing the results of a study comparing the chemical profile of infant body odor with that of postpubertal adolescents. The investigators found that, not surprisingly, the smell of the chemical constituents wafting from babies was more appealing than that emanating from sweaty teenagers. I quickly moved on to the next blurb hoping to find something I hadn’t already experienced or figured out on my own.

But, as I navigated through the rest of my day filled with pickleball, bicycling, and the smell of home-cooked food, something about that study of body odor nagged at me. Who had funded that voyage into the obvious? Were my tax dollars involved? Had I been duped by some alleged nonprofit that had promised my donation would save lives or at least ameliorate suffering? Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, my curiosity got the best of me and I searched out the original study. Within minutes I fell down a rabbit hole into the cavernous world of odor science.

Having had zero experience in this niche field, I was amazed at the lengths to which these German odor investigators had gone to analyze the chemicals on and around their subjects. Just trying to ensure that materials and microclimates in the experimental environment were scent-free was a heroic effort. There was “Mono-trap sampling of volatiles, followed by thermodesorption-comprehensive gas chromatography, and time of flight-mass spectrometry analysis.” There were graphs and charts galore. This is serious science, folks. However, they still use the abbreviation “BO” freely, just as I learned to do in junior high. And, in some situations, the investigators relied on the observation of a panel of trained human sniffers to assess the detection threshold and the degree of pleasantness.

Ultimately, the authors’ conclusion was “sexual maturation coincides with changes in body odor chemical composition. Whether those changes explain differences in parental olfactory perception needs to be determined in future studies.” Again, no surprises here.

Exhausted by my venture into the realm of odor science, I finally found the answer to my burning question. The study was supported by the German Research Foundation and the European Union. Phew! Not on my nickel.

Lest you think that I believe any investigation into the potential role of smell in our health and well-being is pure bunk, let me make it clear that I think the role of odor detection is one of the least well-studied and potentially most valuable areas of medical research. Having had one family tell me that their black lab had twice successfully “diagnosed” their pre-verbal child’s ear infection (which I confirmed with an otoscope and the tympanic membrane was intact) I have been keenly interested in the role of animal-assisted diagnosis.

If you also have wondered whether you could write off your pedigreed Portuguese Water Dog as an office expense, I would direct you to an article titled “Canine olfactory detection and its relevance to medical detection.” The authors note that there is some evidence of dogs successfully alerting physicians to Parkinson’s disease, some cancers, malaria, and COVID-19, among others. However, they caution that the reliability is, in most cases, not of a quality that would be helpful on a larger scale.

I can understand the reasons for their caution. However, from my own personal experience, I am completely confident that I can diagnose strep throat by smell, sometimes simply on opening the examination room door. My false-positive rate over 40 years of practice is zero. Of course I still test and, not surprisingly, my false-negative rate is nothing to brag about. However, if a dog can produce even close to my zero false negative with a given disease, that information is valuable and suggests that we should be pointing the odor investigators and their tool box of skills in that direction. I’m pretty sure we don’t need them to dig much deeper into why babies smell better than teenagers.
 

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

Whether you have totally bought into the “obesity is a disease” paradigm or are still in denial, you must admit that the development of a suite of effective weight loss medications has created a tsunami of interest and economic activity in this country on a scale not seen since the Beanie Baby craze of the mid-1990s. But, obesity management is serious business. While most of those soft cuddly toys are gathering dust in shoeboxes across this country, weight loss medications are likely to be the vanguard of rapidly evolving revolution in healthcare management that will be with us for the foreseeable future.

Most thoughtful folks who purchased Beanie Babies in 1994 had no illusions and knew that in a few short years this bubble of soft cuddly toys was going to burst. However, do those of us on the front line of medical care know what the future holds for the patients who are being prescribed or are scavenging those too-good-to-be-true medications?

My guess is that in the long run we will need a combination of some serious tinkering by the pharmaceutical industry and a trek up some steep learning curves before we eventually arrive at a safe and effective chemical management for obese patients. I recently read an article by an obesity management specialist at Harvard Medical School who voiced her concerns that we are missing an opportunity to make this explosion of popularity in GLP-1 drugs into an important learning experience.

In an opinion piece in JAMA Internal Medicine, Dr. Fatima Cody Stanford and her coauthors argue that we, actually the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA), is over-focused on weight loss in determining the efficacy of anti-obesity medications. Dr. Stanford and colleagues point out that when a patient loses weight it isn’t just fat — it is complex process that may include muscle and bone mineralization as well. She has consulted for at least one obesity-drug manufacturer and says that these companies have the resources to produce data on body composition that could help clinicians create management plans that would address the patients’ overall health. However, the FDA has not demanded this broader and deeper assessment of general health when reviewing the drug trials.

I don’t think we can blame the patients for not asking whether they will healthier while taking these medications. They have already spent a lifetime, even if it is just a decade, of suffering as the “fat one.” A new outfit and a look in the mirror can’t help but make them feel better ... in the short term anyway. We as physicians must shoulder some of the blame for focusing on weight. Our spoken or unspoken message has been “Lose weight and you will be healthier.” We may make our message sound more professional by tossing around terms like “BMI,” but as Dr. Stanford points out, “we have known BMI is a flawed metric for a long time.”

There is the notion that obese people have had to build more muscle to help them carry around the extra weight, so that we should expect them to lose that extra muscle along with the fat. However, in older adults there is an entity called sarcopenic obesity, in which the patient doesn’t have that extra muscle to lose.

In a brief Internet research venture, I could find little on the subject of muscle loss and GLP-1s, other than “it can happen.” And, nothing on the effect in adolescents. And that is one of Dr. Stanford’s points. We just don’t know. She said that looking at body composition can be costly and not something that the clinician can do. However, as far as muscle mass is concerned, we need to be alert to the potential for loss. Simple assessments of strength can help us tailor our management to the specific patient’s need.

The bottom line is this ... now that we have effective medications for “weight loss,” we need to redefine the relationship between weight and health. “We” means us as clinicians. It means the folks at FDA. And, if we can improve our messaging, it will osmose to the rest of the population. Just because you’ve dropped two dress sizes doesn’t mean you’re healthy.

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

Whether you have totally bought into the “obesity is a disease” paradigm or are still in denial, you must admit that the development of a suite of effective weight loss medications has created a tsunami of interest and economic activity in this country on a scale not seen since the Beanie Baby craze of the mid-1990s. But, obesity management is serious business. While most of those soft cuddly toys are gathering dust in shoeboxes across this country, weight loss medications are likely to be the vanguard of rapidly evolving revolution in healthcare management that will be with us for the foreseeable future.

Most thoughtful folks who purchased Beanie Babies in 1994 had no illusions and knew that in a few short years this bubble of soft cuddly toys was going to burst. However, do those of us on the front line of medical care know what the future holds for the patients who are being prescribed or are scavenging those too-good-to-be-true medications?

My guess is that in the long run we will need a combination of some serious tinkering by the pharmaceutical industry and a trek up some steep learning curves before we eventually arrive at a safe and effective chemical management for obese patients. I recently read an article by an obesity management specialist at Harvard Medical School who voiced her concerns that we are missing an opportunity to make this explosion of popularity in GLP-1 drugs into an important learning experience.

In an opinion piece in JAMA Internal Medicine, Dr. Fatima Cody Stanford and her coauthors argue that we, actually the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA), is over-focused on weight loss in determining the efficacy of anti-obesity medications. Dr. Stanford and colleagues point out that when a patient loses weight it isn’t just fat — it is complex process that may include muscle and bone mineralization as well. She has consulted for at least one obesity-drug manufacturer and says that these companies have the resources to produce data on body composition that could help clinicians create management plans that would address the patients’ overall health. However, the FDA has not demanded this broader and deeper assessment of general health when reviewing the drug trials.

I don’t think we can blame the patients for not asking whether they will healthier while taking these medications. They have already spent a lifetime, even if it is just a decade, of suffering as the “fat one.” A new outfit and a look in the mirror can’t help but make them feel better ... in the short term anyway. We as physicians must shoulder some of the blame for focusing on weight. Our spoken or unspoken message has been “Lose weight and you will be healthier.” We may make our message sound more professional by tossing around terms like “BMI,” but as Dr. Stanford points out, “we have known BMI is a flawed metric for a long time.”

There is the notion that obese people have had to build more muscle to help them carry around the extra weight, so that we should expect them to lose that extra muscle along with the fat. However, in older adults there is an entity called sarcopenic obesity, in which the patient doesn’t have that extra muscle to lose.

In a brief Internet research venture, I could find little on the subject of muscle loss and GLP-1s, other than “it can happen.” And, nothing on the effect in adolescents. And that is one of Dr. Stanford’s points. We just don’t know. She said that looking at body composition can be costly and not something that the clinician can do. However, as far as muscle mass is concerned, we need to be alert to the potential for loss. Simple assessments of strength can help us tailor our management to the specific patient’s need.

The bottom line is this ... now that we have effective medications for “weight loss,” we need to redefine the relationship between weight and health. “We” means us as clinicians. It means the folks at FDA. And, if we can improve our messaging, it will osmose to the rest of the population. Just because you’ve dropped two dress sizes doesn’t mean you’re healthy.

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

Whether you have totally bought into the “obesity is a disease” paradigm or are still in denial, you must admit that the development of a suite of effective weight loss medications has created a tsunami of interest and economic activity in this country on a scale not seen since the Beanie Baby craze of the mid-1990s. But, obesity management is serious business. While most of those soft cuddly toys are gathering dust in shoeboxes across this country, weight loss medications are likely to be the vanguard of rapidly evolving revolution in healthcare management that will be with us for the foreseeable future.

Most thoughtful folks who purchased Beanie Babies in 1994 had no illusions and knew that in a few short years this bubble of soft cuddly toys was going to burst. However, do those of us on the front line of medical care know what the future holds for the patients who are being prescribed or are scavenging those too-good-to-be-true medications?

My guess is that in the long run we will need a combination of some serious tinkering by the pharmaceutical industry and a trek up some steep learning curves before we eventually arrive at a safe and effective chemical management for obese patients. I recently read an article by an obesity management specialist at Harvard Medical School who voiced her concerns that we are missing an opportunity to make this explosion of popularity in GLP-1 drugs into an important learning experience.

In an opinion piece in JAMA Internal Medicine, Dr. Fatima Cody Stanford and her coauthors argue that we, actually the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA), is over-focused on weight loss in determining the efficacy of anti-obesity medications. Dr. Stanford and colleagues point out that when a patient loses weight it isn’t just fat — it is complex process that may include muscle and bone mineralization as well. She has consulted for at least one obesity-drug manufacturer and says that these companies have the resources to produce data on body composition that could help clinicians create management plans that would address the patients’ overall health. However, the FDA has not demanded this broader and deeper assessment of general health when reviewing the drug trials.

I don’t think we can blame the patients for not asking whether they will healthier while taking these medications. They have already spent a lifetime, even if it is just a decade, of suffering as the “fat one.” A new outfit and a look in the mirror can’t help but make them feel better ... in the short term anyway. We as physicians must shoulder some of the blame for focusing on weight. Our spoken or unspoken message has been “Lose weight and you will be healthier.” We may make our message sound more professional by tossing around terms like “BMI,” but as Dr. Stanford points out, “we have known BMI is a flawed metric for a long time.”

There is the notion that obese people have had to build more muscle to help them carry around the extra weight, so that we should expect them to lose that extra muscle along with the fat. However, in older adults there is an entity called sarcopenic obesity, in which the patient doesn’t have that extra muscle to lose.

In a brief Internet research venture, I could find little on the subject of muscle loss and GLP-1s, other than “it can happen.” And, nothing on the effect in adolescents. And that is one of Dr. Stanford’s points. We just don’t know. She said that looking at body composition can be costly and not something that the clinician can do. However, as far as muscle mass is concerned, we need to be alert to the potential for loss. Simple assessments of strength can help us tailor our management to the specific patient’s need.

The bottom line is this ... now that we have effective medications for “weight loss,” we need to redefine the relationship between weight and health. “We” means us as clinicians. It means the folks at FDA. And, if we can improve our messaging, it will osmose to the rest of the population. Just because you’ve dropped two dress sizes doesn’t mean you’re healthy.

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

Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine have probably noticed that concussion is one of my favorite topics. The explanation for this perseveration is personal and may lie in the fact that I played two contact sports in college. In high school we still wore leather helmets and in college the lacrosse helmets were constructed of plastic-coated cardboard. I can recall just a few of what might be now labeled as sports-related concussions. Ironically, my only loss of consciousness came on the first dinner date with the woman who would eventually become my wife. A hypotensive episode resulting from the combination of sweat loss (2 hours of basketball) and blood loss from selling some platelets earlier in the day (to pay for the dinner) led to the unfortunate meeting of my head and the beautifully tiled floor at the restaurant.

Postconcussion Recovery

The phenomenon of delayed symptomatic recovery has been a particular interest of mine. Within the last 12 months I have written about an excellent companion commentary in Pediatricsby Talin Babikian PhD, a psychologist at University of California, Los Angeles, in which he urges us to “Consider the comorbidities or premorbidities,” including, among others, anxiety and/or depression, post-traumatic stress, and poor sleep when we are faced with a patient who is slow in shedding his postconcussion symptoms. A short 6 months after reading Dr. Babikian’s prescient commentary, I have encountered some evidence supporting his advice.

Investigators at the Sports Medicine and Performance Center at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia have recently published a study in which they have found “Preexisting mental health diagnoses are associated with greater postinjury emotional symptom burden and longer concussion recovery in a dose-response fashion.” In their prospective study of over 3000 children and adolescents, they found that, although patients with more mental health diagnoses were at greater risk of increased emotional symptoms after concussion, “Children and adolescents with any preexisting mental health diagnosis took longer to recover.”

Female patients and those with abnormal visio-vestibular test results at the initial postinjury evaluation took longer to recover, although boys with prolonged recovery had more emotional symptoms. In general, patients with preexisting mental health diagnoses returned to exercise later, a known factor in delayed concussion recovery.
 

Making Sense of It All

There are a couple of ways to look at this paper’s findings. The first is through the lens that focuses on the population of children and adolescents who have known mental health conditions. If our patient has a mental health diagnosis, we shouldn’t be surprised that he/she is taking longer to recover from his/her concussion and is experiencing an increase in symptoms. Most of us probably suspected this already. However, we should be particularly aware of this phenomenon if the patient is male.

The other perspective is probably more valuable to us as primary care physicians. If faced with a patient who is taking longer to recover than we might expect, maybe we have missed an underlying mental health condition. Even one diagnosis so subtle that we may have overlooked it is likely to slow his/her progress toward recovery. And, of course, it may be that injury has triggered an underlying condition that none — not even the most astute diagnostician — would have found without a focused investigation.

I can’t leave this subject without wondering whether the findings in this paper should be extrapolated to other conditions of delayed recovery, including Lyme disease and COVID 19. Patients with these conditions are understandably resistant to the suggestion that their mental health may be contributing to the situation. Too many have been told too often it is “all in their head.” However, I think we as clinicians should keep open minds when symptoms are resolving more slowly than we would expect.

Finally, in their conclusion the authors of this paper reinforce a principle that has unfortunately taken some of us a while to accept. Early introduction of symptom-limited exercise should be a standard of postconcussion management, especially for patients with a mental health diagnosis.

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

Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine have probably noticed that concussion is one of my favorite topics. The explanation for this perseveration is personal and may lie in the fact that I played two contact sports in college. In high school we still wore leather helmets and in college the lacrosse helmets were constructed of plastic-coated cardboard. I can recall just a few of what might be now labeled as sports-related concussions. Ironically, my only loss of consciousness came on the first dinner date with the woman who would eventually become my wife. A hypotensive episode resulting from the combination of sweat loss (2 hours of basketball) and blood loss from selling some platelets earlier in the day (to pay for the dinner) led to the unfortunate meeting of my head and the beautifully tiled floor at the restaurant.

Postconcussion Recovery

The phenomenon of delayed symptomatic recovery has been a particular interest of mine. Within the last 12 months I have written about an excellent companion commentary in Pediatricsby Talin Babikian PhD, a psychologist at University of California, Los Angeles, in which he urges us to “Consider the comorbidities or premorbidities,” including, among others, anxiety and/or depression, post-traumatic stress, and poor sleep when we are faced with a patient who is slow in shedding his postconcussion symptoms. A short 6 months after reading Dr. Babikian’s prescient commentary, I have encountered some evidence supporting his advice.

Investigators at the Sports Medicine and Performance Center at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia have recently published a study in which they have found “Preexisting mental health diagnoses are associated with greater postinjury emotional symptom burden and longer concussion recovery in a dose-response fashion.” In their prospective study of over 3000 children and adolescents, they found that, although patients with more mental health diagnoses were at greater risk of increased emotional symptoms after concussion, “Children and adolescents with any preexisting mental health diagnosis took longer to recover.”

Female patients and those with abnormal visio-vestibular test results at the initial postinjury evaluation took longer to recover, although boys with prolonged recovery had more emotional symptoms. In general, patients with preexisting mental health diagnoses returned to exercise later, a known factor in delayed concussion recovery.
 

Making Sense of It All

There are a couple of ways to look at this paper’s findings. The first is through the lens that focuses on the population of children and adolescents who have known mental health conditions. If our patient has a mental health diagnosis, we shouldn’t be surprised that he/she is taking longer to recover from his/her concussion and is experiencing an increase in symptoms. Most of us probably suspected this already. However, we should be particularly aware of this phenomenon if the patient is male.

The other perspective is probably more valuable to us as primary care physicians. If faced with a patient who is taking longer to recover than we might expect, maybe we have missed an underlying mental health condition. Even one diagnosis so subtle that we may have overlooked it is likely to slow his/her progress toward recovery. And, of course, it may be that injury has triggered an underlying condition that none — not even the most astute diagnostician — would have found without a focused investigation.

I can’t leave this subject without wondering whether the findings in this paper should be extrapolated to other conditions of delayed recovery, including Lyme disease and COVID 19. Patients with these conditions are understandably resistant to the suggestion that their mental health may be contributing to the situation. Too many have been told too often it is “all in their head.” However, I think we as clinicians should keep open minds when symptoms are resolving more slowly than we would expect.

Finally, in their conclusion the authors of this paper reinforce a principle that has unfortunately taken some of us a while to accept. Early introduction of symptom-limited exercise should be a standard of postconcussion management, especially for patients with a mental health diagnosis.

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

Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine have probably noticed that concussion is one of my favorite topics. The explanation for this perseveration is personal and may lie in the fact that I played two contact sports in college. In high school we still wore leather helmets and in college the lacrosse helmets were constructed of plastic-coated cardboard. I can recall just a few of what might be now labeled as sports-related concussions. Ironically, my only loss of consciousness came on the first dinner date with the woman who would eventually become my wife. A hypotensive episode resulting from the combination of sweat loss (2 hours of basketball) and blood loss from selling some platelets earlier in the day (to pay for the dinner) led to the unfortunate meeting of my head and the beautifully tiled floor at the restaurant.

Postconcussion Recovery

The phenomenon of delayed symptomatic recovery has been a particular interest of mine. Within the last 12 months I have written about an excellent companion commentary in Pediatricsby Talin Babikian PhD, a psychologist at University of California, Los Angeles, in which he urges us to “Consider the comorbidities or premorbidities,” including, among others, anxiety and/or depression, post-traumatic stress, and poor sleep when we are faced with a patient who is slow in shedding his postconcussion symptoms. A short 6 months after reading Dr. Babikian’s prescient commentary, I have encountered some evidence supporting his advice.

Investigators at the Sports Medicine and Performance Center at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia have recently published a study in which they have found “Preexisting mental health diagnoses are associated with greater postinjury emotional symptom burden and longer concussion recovery in a dose-response fashion.” In their prospective study of over 3000 children and adolescents, they found that, although patients with more mental health diagnoses were at greater risk of increased emotional symptoms after concussion, “Children and adolescents with any preexisting mental health diagnosis took longer to recover.”

Female patients and those with abnormal visio-vestibular test results at the initial postinjury evaluation took longer to recover, although boys with prolonged recovery had more emotional symptoms. In general, patients with preexisting mental health diagnoses returned to exercise later, a known factor in delayed concussion recovery.
 

Making Sense of It All

There are a couple of ways to look at this paper’s findings. The first is through the lens that focuses on the population of children and adolescents who have known mental health conditions. If our patient has a mental health diagnosis, we shouldn’t be surprised that he/she is taking longer to recover from his/her concussion and is experiencing an increase in symptoms. Most of us probably suspected this already. However, we should be particularly aware of this phenomenon if the patient is male.

The other perspective is probably more valuable to us as primary care physicians. If faced with a patient who is taking longer to recover than we might expect, maybe we have missed an underlying mental health condition. Even one diagnosis so subtle that we may have overlooked it is likely to slow his/her progress toward recovery. And, of course, it may be that injury has triggered an underlying condition that none — not even the most astute diagnostician — would have found without a focused investigation.

I can’t leave this subject without wondering whether the findings in this paper should be extrapolated to other conditions of delayed recovery, including Lyme disease and COVID 19. Patients with these conditions are understandably resistant to the suggestion that their mental health may be contributing to the situation. Too many have been told too often it is “all in their head.” However, I think we as clinicians should keep open minds when symptoms are resolving more slowly than we would expect.

Finally, in their conclusion the authors of this paper reinforce a principle that has unfortunately taken some of us a while to accept. Early introduction of symptom-limited exercise should be a standard of postconcussion management, especially for patients with a mental health diagnosis.

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

The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) has wisely chosen to draw our attention to the distressing statistic that by age 13, 70% of children have dropped out of organized sports.

Seventy-five years ago news of this dramatic decline in participation would have received a quizzical shrug because organized youth sports was in its infancy. It consisted primarily of Little League Baseball and for the most part excluded girls. Prior to middle school and high school, children were self-organizing their sports activities – picking their own teams, demarcating their own fields, and making up the rules to fit the conditions. Soccer Dads and Hockey Moms hadn’t been invented. To what extent this attrition from youth sports is contributing to the fact that more than 75% of this country’s adolescents fail to meet even the most lenient activity requirements is unclear. But, it certainly isn’t helping the situation.

Parsing out the contributors to this decline in organized sport should be high on our priority list. In the recent AAP Clinical Report published in Pediatrics (same reference as above) the authors claim “Burnout represents one of the primary reasons for attrition in youth sports.” This statement doesn’t quite agree with my experiences. So, I decided to chase down their reference. It turns out their assertion comes from an article coming out of Australia by eight authors who “brainstormed” 83 unique statements of 61 stakeholders regarding “athlete participation in the high-performance pathway” and concluded “Athlete health was considered the most important athlete retention to address.” While injury and overuse may explain why some elite youth participants drop out and represent a topic for the AAP to address, I’m not sure this paper’s anecdotal conclusion helps us understand the overall decline in youth sports. A broader and deeper discussion can be found in a 2019 AAP Clinical Report that addresses the advantages and pitfalls of youth sports as organized in this country.

How we arrived at this point in which, as the AAP report observes, “Youth sport participation represents the primary route to physical activity” is unclear. One obvious cause is the blossoming of the sedentary entertainment alternatives that has easily overpowered the attraction of self-organized outdoor games. The first attack in this war that we are losing came with affordable color television. Here we must blame ourselves both as parents and pediatricians for not acknowledging the risks and creating some limits. Sadly, the AAP’s initial focus was on content and not on time watched. And, of course, by the time handheld electronic devices arrived the cat was out of the bag.

We also must accept some blame for allowing physical activity to disappear as a meaningful part of the school day. Recesses have been curtailed, leaving free play and all its benefits as an endangered species. Physical education classes have been pared down tragically just as teenagers are making their own choices about how they will spend their time.

We must not underestimate the role that parental anxiety has played in the popularity of organized sport. I’m not sure of the origins of this change, but folks in my cohort recall that our parents let us roam free. As long as we showed up for meals without a policeman in tow, our parents were happy. For some reason parents seem more concerned about risks of their children being outside unmonitored, even in what are clearly safe neighborhoods.

Into this void created by sedentary amusements, limited in-school opportunities for physical activity, and parental anxiety, adult (often parent) organized sports have flourished. Unfortunately, they have too often been over-organized and allowed to morph into a model that mimics professional sports. The myth that to succeed a child must start early, narrow his/her focus and practice, practice, practice has created a situation that is a major contributor to the decline in youth sports participation. This philosophy also contributes to burnout and overuse injuries, but this is primarily among the few and the more elite.

When the child who is already involved in an organized sport sees and believes that he or she hasn’t a chance against the “early bloomers,” that child will quit. Without an appealing alternative, he/she will become sedentary. Further damage is done when children themselves and their parents have witnessed other families heavily invested in professionalized youth programs and decide it doesn’t make sense to even sign up.

In full disclosure, I must say that I have children and grandchildren who have participated in travel teams. Luckily they have not been tempted to seek even more elite programs. They have played at least two or three sports each year and still remain physically active as adults.

I don’t think the answer to the decline in youth sports is to eliminate travel and super-elite teams. The drive to succeed is too strong in some individuals. The answers lie in setting limits on sedentary alternatives, continuing to loudly question the myth of early specialization, and to work harder at offering the broadest range of opportunities that can appeal to children of all skill levels.

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

The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) has wisely chosen to draw our attention to the distressing statistic that by age 13, 70% of children have dropped out of organized sports.

Seventy-five years ago news of this dramatic decline in participation would have received a quizzical shrug because organized youth sports was in its infancy. It consisted primarily of Little League Baseball and for the most part excluded girls. Prior to middle school and high school, children were self-organizing their sports activities – picking their own teams, demarcating their own fields, and making up the rules to fit the conditions. Soccer Dads and Hockey Moms hadn’t been invented. To what extent this attrition from youth sports is contributing to the fact that more than 75% of this country’s adolescents fail to meet even the most lenient activity requirements is unclear. But, it certainly isn’t helping the situation.

Parsing out the contributors to this decline in organized sport should be high on our priority list. In the recent AAP Clinical Report published in Pediatrics (same reference as above) the authors claim “Burnout represents one of the primary reasons for attrition in youth sports.” This statement doesn’t quite agree with my experiences. So, I decided to chase down their reference. It turns out their assertion comes from an article coming out of Australia by eight authors who “brainstormed” 83 unique statements of 61 stakeholders regarding “athlete participation in the high-performance pathway” and concluded “Athlete health was considered the most important athlete retention to address.” While injury and overuse may explain why some elite youth participants drop out and represent a topic for the AAP to address, I’m not sure this paper’s anecdotal conclusion helps us understand the overall decline in youth sports. A broader and deeper discussion can be found in a 2019 AAP Clinical Report that addresses the advantages and pitfalls of youth sports as organized in this country.

How we arrived at this point in which, as the AAP report observes, “Youth sport participation represents the primary route to physical activity” is unclear. One obvious cause is the blossoming of the sedentary entertainment alternatives that has easily overpowered the attraction of self-organized outdoor games. The first attack in this war that we are losing came with affordable color television. Here we must blame ourselves both as parents and pediatricians for not acknowledging the risks and creating some limits. Sadly, the AAP’s initial focus was on content and not on time watched. And, of course, by the time handheld electronic devices arrived the cat was out of the bag.

We also must accept some blame for allowing physical activity to disappear as a meaningful part of the school day. Recesses have been curtailed, leaving free play and all its benefits as an endangered species. Physical education classes have been pared down tragically just as teenagers are making their own choices about how they will spend their time.

We must not underestimate the role that parental anxiety has played in the popularity of organized sport. I’m not sure of the origins of this change, but folks in my cohort recall that our parents let us roam free. As long as we showed up for meals without a policeman in tow, our parents were happy. For some reason parents seem more concerned about risks of their children being outside unmonitored, even in what are clearly safe neighborhoods.

Into this void created by sedentary amusements, limited in-school opportunities for physical activity, and parental anxiety, adult (often parent) organized sports have flourished. Unfortunately, they have too often been over-organized and allowed to morph into a model that mimics professional sports. The myth that to succeed a child must start early, narrow his/her focus and practice, practice, practice has created a situation that is a major contributor to the decline in youth sports participation. This philosophy also contributes to burnout and overuse injuries, but this is primarily among the few and the more elite.

When the child who is already involved in an organized sport sees and believes that he or she hasn’t a chance against the “early bloomers,” that child will quit. Without an appealing alternative, he/she will become sedentary. Further damage is done when children themselves and their parents have witnessed other families heavily invested in professionalized youth programs and decide it doesn’t make sense to even sign up.

In full disclosure, I must say that I have children and grandchildren who have participated in travel teams. Luckily they have not been tempted to seek even more elite programs. They have played at least two or three sports each year and still remain physically active as adults.

I don’t think the answer to the decline in youth sports is to eliminate travel and super-elite teams. The drive to succeed is too strong in some individuals. The answers lie in setting limits on sedentary alternatives, continuing to loudly question the myth of early specialization, and to work harder at offering the broadest range of opportunities that can appeal to children of all skill levels.

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

The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) has wisely chosen to draw our attention to the distressing statistic that by age 13, 70% of children have dropped out of organized sports.

Seventy-five years ago news of this dramatic decline in participation would have received a quizzical shrug because organized youth sports was in its infancy. It consisted primarily of Little League Baseball and for the most part excluded girls. Prior to middle school and high school, children were self-organizing their sports activities – picking their own teams, demarcating their own fields, and making up the rules to fit the conditions. Soccer Dads and Hockey Moms hadn’t been invented. To what extent this attrition from youth sports is contributing to the fact that more than 75% of this country’s adolescents fail to meet even the most lenient activity requirements is unclear. But, it certainly isn’t helping the situation.

Parsing out the contributors to this decline in organized sport should be high on our priority list. In the recent AAP Clinical Report published in Pediatrics (same reference as above) the authors claim “Burnout represents one of the primary reasons for attrition in youth sports.” This statement doesn’t quite agree with my experiences. So, I decided to chase down their reference. It turns out their assertion comes from an article coming out of Australia by eight authors who “brainstormed” 83 unique statements of 61 stakeholders regarding “athlete participation in the high-performance pathway” and concluded “Athlete health was considered the most important athlete retention to address.” While injury and overuse may explain why some elite youth participants drop out and represent a topic for the AAP to address, I’m not sure this paper’s anecdotal conclusion helps us understand the overall decline in youth sports. A broader and deeper discussion can be found in a 2019 AAP Clinical Report that addresses the advantages and pitfalls of youth sports as organized in this country.

How we arrived at this point in which, as the AAP report observes, “Youth sport participation represents the primary route to physical activity” is unclear. One obvious cause is the blossoming of the sedentary entertainment alternatives that has easily overpowered the attraction of self-organized outdoor games. The first attack in this war that we are losing came with affordable color television. Here we must blame ourselves both as parents and pediatricians for not acknowledging the risks and creating some limits. Sadly, the AAP’s initial focus was on content and not on time watched. And, of course, by the time handheld electronic devices arrived the cat was out of the bag.

We also must accept some blame for allowing physical activity to disappear as a meaningful part of the school day. Recesses have been curtailed, leaving free play and all its benefits as an endangered species. Physical education classes have been pared down tragically just as teenagers are making their own choices about how they will spend their time.

We must not underestimate the role that parental anxiety has played in the popularity of organized sport. I’m not sure of the origins of this change, but folks in my cohort recall that our parents let us roam free. As long as we showed up for meals without a policeman in tow, our parents were happy. For some reason parents seem more concerned about risks of their children being outside unmonitored, even in what are clearly safe neighborhoods.

Into this void created by sedentary amusements, limited in-school opportunities for physical activity, and parental anxiety, adult (often parent) organized sports have flourished. Unfortunately, they have too often been over-organized and allowed to morph into a model that mimics professional sports. The myth that to succeed a child must start early, narrow his/her focus and practice, practice, practice has created a situation that is a major contributor to the decline in youth sports participation. This philosophy also contributes to burnout and overuse injuries, but this is primarily among the few and the more elite.

When the child who is already involved in an organized sport sees and believes that he or she hasn’t a chance against the “early bloomers,” that child will quit. Without an appealing alternative, he/she will become sedentary. Further damage is done when children themselves and their parents have witnessed other families heavily invested in professionalized youth programs and decide it doesn’t make sense to even sign up.

In full disclosure, I must say that I have children and grandchildren who have participated in travel teams. Luckily they have not been tempted to seek even more elite programs. They have played at least two or three sports each year and still remain physically active as adults.

I don’t think the answer to the decline in youth sports is to eliminate travel and super-elite teams. The drive to succeed is too strong in some individuals. The answers lie in setting limits on sedentary alternatives, continuing to loudly question the myth of early specialization, and to work harder at offering the broadest range of opportunities that can appeal to children of all skill levels.

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

My first civilian job after finishing my training was as an associate and eventually a partner of a pediatrician whose office was in a wing of his large 19th-century home. The pediatrician in the neighboring town had his office in a small house next to his home. This model of small one- or two -provider offices in or nearby their homes was replicated up and down the coast. After 7 years, the 12-minute drive from my home to the office became intolerable and I asked to dissolve what was otherwise a successful partnership. I opened a one-provider office with a 6-minute bike ride commute and my wife served as the billing clerk and bookkeeper.

Those next 10 years of solo practice were the most rewarding, both economically and professionally. Eventually faced with the need to add another provider, I reluctantly joined a recently formed group of primary care physicians who, like me, had been running one- or two-provider offices often with spouses as support staff — basically Mom and Pop operations. However, the group was gradually absorbed by increasingly larger entities and our practices that once were as individual as our personalities became homogenized. Neither my patients nor I liked the new feel of the office.

Still pining for that small office vibe, I continue to wonder if it could be scaled up and adapted to today’s healthcare realities. I recently read a New York Times article describing how a pediatrician has launched such a practice model into the uncharted waters of Greater New York City.

At age 34, Dr. Michel Cohen, a Moroccan-French émigré, opened his storefront pediatric practice in 1994. The upper story housed his loft apartment. A self-described “hippie doctor,” Dr. Cohen developed a following based on his book on parenting and publicity surrounding his role in the even more popular book on French-style parenting titled Bringing up Bebe by Pamela Druckerman. By 2009 his practice had grown to three small storefront offices. However, they weren’t sufficiently profitable. He decided to shun the distractions of his celebrity practice trappings and instead focus on growth, hoping that the gravitas associated with even more office locations would allow him to offer better service and improve the bottom line. Sort of an “economy of scale” notion applied to the small office setting.

He now has 48 offices having added 12 new sites last year with 5 more planned for next year. These are all one- or two-physician installations with two exam rooms per provider. The offices are bright and colorful, focused on appealing to a child’s taste. The furniture is blond wood, most of it based on Dr. Cohen’s designs and in some cases handmade. Current staffing is 112 physicians and nurse practitioners and volume exceeds 100,000 visits per year.

The volume has allowed the practice to add a user-friendly patient portal and offer an after-hours call-in option. The larger volume means that staffing can be more easily adjusted to illness and vacations. The goal is to have the practitioners become identified with their sites and the patients assigned to them whenever possible. Uniformity in office designs allow a provider filling in from another site to easily find supplies and function within a familiar system.

While the sites have generally served upscale gentrified neighborhoods, the practice has recently expanded to less affluent areas and accepts Medicaid. Dr. Cohen’s dream is to expand his network nationally as a nonprofit in which low-income sites would be subsidized by the more profitable offices. A previous attempt at expansion with two offices in Southern California did not work out because the time zone difference didn’t mesh well with the Internet portal.

Wanting to hear a firsthand account from a family on how the Tribeca Pediatric system works, I contacted a neighbor who has recently moved his young family here to Brunswick. His impression was generally positive. He gave high marks to the patient portal for the ability to get school and camp forms and vaccination records quickly. Appointments made electronically was a plus, although the after-hours response time sometimes took an hour or two. He would have preferred to see their assigned provider for a higher percentage of visits, but this seems to be a common complaint even in systems with the greatest availability. Care was dispensed efficiently but didn’t seem to be overly rushed.

In the NY Times article there is one complaint by a former provider who felt she was getting burned out by the system and leaned on 10 minutes for sick visits and 20 minutes for well visits. Personally, I don’t see this as a problem. The length of a visit and the quality of the care are not always related. Given good support services and an efficiently run office, those slot guidelines seem very reasonable, realizing that a skilled clinician must have already learned to adjust his or her pace to the realities of the patient mix. However, as the pediatric sick population has leaned more toward behavioral and mental health problems, a primary care practice should be offering some option for these patients either in-house or with reliable referral relationships. Although the NY Times article doesn’t provide any numbers, it does mention that the providers are generally young and there is some turnover, possibly as providers use the practice as a “stepping stone.”

To some extent Dr. Cohen’s success seems to be the result of his real estate acumen and business sense. Because the majority of recent medical school graduates enter the work force with a substantial debt, it is difficult to imagine that a young physician would have Dr. Cohen’s entrepreneurial passion. However, clearly his success, at least in the short term, demonstrates that there is a substantial percentage of both patients and providers who prefer small personalized offices if given the option. It will be interesting to see if and how Tribeca Pediatrics expands and whether any of the larger existing networks attempt to imitate it.

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

My first civilian job after finishing my training was as an associate and eventually a partner of a pediatrician whose office was in a wing of his large 19th-century home. The pediatrician in the neighboring town had his office in a small house next to his home. This model of small one- or two -provider offices in or nearby their homes was replicated up and down the coast. After 7 years, the 12-minute drive from my home to the office became intolerable and I asked to dissolve what was otherwise a successful partnership. I opened a one-provider office with a 6-minute bike ride commute and my wife served as the billing clerk and bookkeeper.

Those next 10 years of solo practice were the most rewarding, both economically and professionally. Eventually faced with the need to add another provider, I reluctantly joined a recently formed group of primary care physicians who, like me, had been running one- or two-provider offices often with spouses as support staff — basically Mom and Pop operations. However, the group was gradually absorbed by increasingly larger entities and our practices that once were as individual as our personalities became homogenized. Neither my patients nor I liked the new feel of the office.

Still pining for that small office vibe, I continue to wonder if it could be scaled up and adapted to today’s healthcare realities. I recently read a New York Times article describing how a pediatrician has launched such a practice model into the uncharted waters of Greater New York City.

At age 34, Dr. Michel Cohen, a Moroccan-French émigré, opened his storefront pediatric practice in 1994. The upper story housed his loft apartment. A self-described “hippie doctor,” Dr. Cohen developed a following based on his book on parenting and publicity surrounding his role in the even more popular book on French-style parenting titled Bringing up Bebe by Pamela Druckerman. By 2009 his practice had grown to three small storefront offices. However, they weren’t sufficiently profitable. He decided to shun the distractions of his celebrity practice trappings and instead focus on growth, hoping that the gravitas associated with even more office locations would allow him to offer better service and improve the bottom line. Sort of an “economy of scale” notion applied to the small office setting.

He now has 48 offices having added 12 new sites last year with 5 more planned for next year. These are all one- or two-physician installations with two exam rooms per provider. The offices are bright and colorful, focused on appealing to a child’s taste. The furniture is blond wood, most of it based on Dr. Cohen’s designs and in some cases handmade. Current staffing is 112 physicians and nurse practitioners and volume exceeds 100,000 visits per year.

The volume has allowed the practice to add a user-friendly patient portal and offer an after-hours call-in option. The larger volume means that staffing can be more easily adjusted to illness and vacations. The goal is to have the practitioners become identified with their sites and the patients assigned to them whenever possible. Uniformity in office designs allow a provider filling in from another site to easily find supplies and function within a familiar system.

While the sites have generally served upscale gentrified neighborhoods, the practice has recently expanded to less affluent areas and accepts Medicaid. Dr. Cohen’s dream is to expand his network nationally as a nonprofit in which low-income sites would be subsidized by the more profitable offices. A previous attempt at expansion with two offices in Southern California did not work out because the time zone difference didn’t mesh well with the Internet portal.

Wanting to hear a firsthand account from a family on how the Tribeca Pediatric system works, I contacted a neighbor who has recently moved his young family here to Brunswick. His impression was generally positive. He gave high marks to the patient portal for the ability to get school and camp forms and vaccination records quickly. Appointments made electronically was a plus, although the after-hours response time sometimes took an hour or two. He would have preferred to see their assigned provider for a higher percentage of visits, but this seems to be a common complaint even in systems with the greatest availability. Care was dispensed efficiently but didn’t seem to be overly rushed.

In the NY Times article there is one complaint by a former provider who felt she was getting burned out by the system and leaned on 10 minutes for sick visits and 20 minutes for well visits. Personally, I don’t see this as a problem. The length of a visit and the quality of the care are not always related. Given good support services and an efficiently run office, those slot guidelines seem very reasonable, realizing that a skilled clinician must have already learned to adjust his or her pace to the realities of the patient mix. However, as the pediatric sick population has leaned more toward behavioral and mental health problems, a primary care practice should be offering some option for these patients either in-house or with reliable referral relationships. Although the NY Times article doesn’t provide any numbers, it does mention that the providers are generally young and there is some turnover, possibly as providers use the practice as a “stepping stone.”

To some extent Dr. Cohen’s success seems to be the result of his real estate acumen and business sense. Because the majority of recent medical school graduates enter the work force with a substantial debt, it is difficult to imagine that a young physician would have Dr. Cohen’s entrepreneurial passion. However, clearly his success, at least in the short term, demonstrates that there is a substantial percentage of both patients and providers who prefer small personalized offices if given the option. It will be interesting to see if and how Tribeca Pediatrics expands and whether any of the larger existing networks attempt to imitate it.

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

My first civilian job after finishing my training was as an associate and eventually a partner of a pediatrician whose office was in a wing of his large 19th-century home. The pediatrician in the neighboring town had his office in a small house next to his home. This model of small one- or two -provider offices in or nearby their homes was replicated up and down the coast. After 7 years, the 12-minute drive from my home to the office became intolerable and I asked to dissolve what was otherwise a successful partnership. I opened a one-provider office with a 6-minute bike ride commute and my wife served as the billing clerk and bookkeeper.

Those next 10 years of solo practice were the most rewarding, both economically and professionally. Eventually faced with the need to add another provider, I reluctantly joined a recently formed group of primary care physicians who, like me, had been running one- or two-provider offices often with spouses as support staff — basically Mom and Pop operations. However, the group was gradually absorbed by increasingly larger entities and our practices that once were as individual as our personalities became homogenized. Neither my patients nor I liked the new feel of the office.

Still pining for that small office vibe, I continue to wonder if it could be scaled up and adapted to today’s healthcare realities. I recently read a New York Times article describing how a pediatrician has launched such a practice model into the uncharted waters of Greater New York City.

At age 34, Dr. Michel Cohen, a Moroccan-French émigré, opened his storefront pediatric practice in 1994. The upper story housed his loft apartment. A self-described “hippie doctor,” Dr. Cohen developed a following based on his book on parenting and publicity surrounding his role in the even more popular book on French-style parenting titled Bringing up Bebe by Pamela Druckerman. By 2009 his practice had grown to three small storefront offices. However, they weren’t sufficiently profitable. He decided to shun the distractions of his celebrity practice trappings and instead focus on growth, hoping that the gravitas associated with even more office locations would allow him to offer better service and improve the bottom line. Sort of an “economy of scale” notion applied to the small office setting.

He now has 48 offices having added 12 new sites last year with 5 more planned for next year. These are all one- or two-physician installations with two exam rooms per provider. The offices are bright and colorful, focused on appealing to a child’s taste. The furniture is blond wood, most of it based on Dr. Cohen’s designs and in some cases handmade. Current staffing is 112 physicians and nurse practitioners and volume exceeds 100,000 visits per year.

The volume has allowed the practice to add a user-friendly patient portal and offer an after-hours call-in option. The larger volume means that staffing can be more easily adjusted to illness and vacations. The goal is to have the practitioners become identified with their sites and the patients assigned to them whenever possible. Uniformity in office designs allow a provider filling in from another site to easily find supplies and function within a familiar system.

While the sites have generally served upscale gentrified neighborhoods, the practice has recently expanded to less affluent areas and accepts Medicaid. Dr. Cohen’s dream is to expand his network nationally as a nonprofit in which low-income sites would be subsidized by the more profitable offices. A previous attempt at expansion with two offices in Southern California did not work out because the time zone difference didn’t mesh well with the Internet portal.

Wanting to hear a firsthand account from a family on how the Tribeca Pediatric system works, I contacted a neighbor who has recently moved his young family here to Brunswick. His impression was generally positive. He gave high marks to the patient portal for the ability to get school and camp forms and vaccination records quickly. Appointments made electronically was a plus, although the after-hours response time sometimes took an hour or two. He would have preferred to see their assigned provider for a higher percentage of visits, but this seems to be a common complaint even in systems with the greatest availability. Care was dispensed efficiently but didn’t seem to be overly rushed.

In the NY Times article there is one complaint by a former provider who felt she was getting burned out by the system and leaned on 10 minutes for sick visits and 20 minutes for well visits. Personally, I don’t see this as a problem. The length of a visit and the quality of the care are not always related. Given good support services and an efficiently run office, those slot guidelines seem very reasonable, realizing that a skilled clinician must have already learned to adjust his or her pace to the realities of the patient mix. However, as the pediatric sick population has leaned more toward behavioral and mental health problems, a primary care practice should be offering some option for these patients either in-house or with reliable referral relationships. Although the NY Times article doesn’t provide any numbers, it does mention that the providers are generally young and there is some turnover, possibly as providers use the practice as a “stepping stone.”

To some extent Dr. Cohen’s success seems to be the result of his real estate acumen and business sense. Because the majority of recent medical school graduates enter the work force with a substantial debt, it is difficult to imagine that a young physician would have Dr. Cohen’s entrepreneurial passion. However, clearly his success, at least in the short term, demonstrates that there is a substantial percentage of both patients and providers who prefer small personalized offices if given the option. It will be interesting to see if and how Tribeca Pediatrics expands and whether any of the larger existing networks attempt to imitate it.

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

In this February’s issue of the journal Pediatrics there is an interesting paper that explores the demographics and sleep environments of the more than 8000 sudden unexpected infant death (SUID) victims who died in the United States between 2011 and 2020. The authors’ broad conclusion was “Most SUID, regardless of sleep location, had multiple unsafe sleep factors present demonstrating the need for comprehensive sleep counseling for every family at every encounter.”

From the perspective of a former busy primary care physician I shudder when I read a statement this broad because it doesn’t acknowledge the realities of my professional life. A sentence containing “comprehensive” and two “every’s” won’t be taken seriously by most of the practicing pediatricians I know. However, there is an abundance of information generated by these investigators that could help a pediatrician target his advice to the individual families in his practice without having to resort to time-consuming comprehensive counseling, which is likely to sound like just so much chatter to families overwhelmed by the new challenge of raising a child.

For example, nearly 60% of SUID cases were sharing a sleep surface when they died, and surface-sharing infants were more likely to not have a crib in their home. It seems to me that one should start with the simple question, “Do your have a crib in your home ... in all the homes where the baby will sleep?” And, it should be asked in the hospital prior to discharge.

In 1993, our second-born daughter went home from a teaching hospital in a cardboard box. So did all of her nursery mates. It was decorated with a stork motif and had served as her bassinet. Since early in the last century, families in Finland have been offered a similar box filled with baby supplies. Shrinkflation has caused a scale back in its contents, but the box itself has remained as a safe and inexpensive sleep surface for income-challenged families.

Many babies in this country are put to sleep in a variety of places as they are shuttled around to where the inexpensive childcare is available. Offering families as many boxes as they need may avoid the tragedy of their infant smothering on Aunt Louise’s couch or Cousin Martha’s bed littered with pillows. This is particularly important in a family with multiples (twins, triplets, etc.) who are overrepresented in the SUID population. The opening question about crib availability is likely to alert the healthcare provider to a social situation dominated by poverty that may include lower parental education and a higher likelihood of residential insecurity, all of which are associated with surface-sharing.

The authors observe “surface-sharing in and of itself may not be what caregiver education should focus on.” A simple cardboard box, however, is not a sleep surface likely to be shared with an adult.

For the families for whom surface-sharing is a choice and not a necessity, the investigators encourage us to engage families on their motivation for surface-sharing. This is a discussion that clinicians should be initiating, regardless of our concern of SUID prevention, by simply asking “How are you and your baby sleeping?” Is the baby being nursed to sleep? Where? While the authors acknowledge that their raw data did not allow them to make any observations on a relationship between surface-sharing and breastfeeding, my anecdotal observations have found an unfortunate number of mothers who have become human pacifiers for their babies and are co-sleeping. This association can result in a sleep-deprived parent(s) with unhealthy consequences. Although it can be difficult to uncouple breastfeeding from settling, early intervention triggered by asking a simple question can improve the chances of resolution.

Although I may quibble with the wording of authors’ final conclusion, this is an excellent paper worth looking at. SUID while infrequent and for the most part still mysterious is a tragedy that we should be able to prevent.

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

In this February’s issue of the journal Pediatrics there is an interesting paper that explores the demographics and sleep environments of the more than 8000 sudden unexpected infant death (SUID) victims who died in the United States between 2011 and 2020. The authors’ broad conclusion was “Most SUID, regardless of sleep location, had multiple unsafe sleep factors present demonstrating the need for comprehensive sleep counseling for every family at every encounter.”

From the perspective of a former busy primary care physician I shudder when I read a statement this broad because it doesn’t acknowledge the realities of my professional life. A sentence containing “comprehensive” and two “every’s” won’t be taken seriously by most of the practicing pediatricians I know. However, there is an abundance of information generated by these investigators that could help a pediatrician target his advice to the individual families in his practice without having to resort to time-consuming comprehensive counseling, which is likely to sound like just so much chatter to families overwhelmed by the new challenge of raising a child.

For example, nearly 60% of SUID cases were sharing a sleep surface when they died, and surface-sharing infants were more likely to not have a crib in their home. It seems to me that one should start with the simple question, “Do your have a crib in your home ... in all the homes where the baby will sleep?” And, it should be asked in the hospital prior to discharge.

In 1993, our second-born daughter went home from a teaching hospital in a cardboard box. So did all of her nursery mates. It was decorated with a stork motif and had served as her bassinet. Since early in the last century, families in Finland have been offered a similar box filled with baby supplies. Shrinkflation has caused a scale back in its contents, but the box itself has remained as a safe and inexpensive sleep surface for income-challenged families.

Many babies in this country are put to sleep in a variety of places as they are shuttled around to where the inexpensive childcare is available. Offering families as many boxes as they need may avoid the tragedy of their infant smothering on Aunt Louise’s couch or Cousin Martha’s bed littered with pillows. This is particularly important in a family with multiples (twins, triplets, etc.) who are overrepresented in the SUID population. The opening question about crib availability is likely to alert the healthcare provider to a social situation dominated by poverty that may include lower parental education and a higher likelihood of residential insecurity, all of which are associated with surface-sharing.

The authors observe “surface-sharing in and of itself may not be what caregiver education should focus on.” A simple cardboard box, however, is not a sleep surface likely to be shared with an adult.

For the families for whom surface-sharing is a choice and not a necessity, the investigators encourage us to engage families on their motivation for surface-sharing. This is a discussion that clinicians should be initiating, regardless of our concern of SUID prevention, by simply asking “How are you and your baby sleeping?” Is the baby being nursed to sleep? Where? While the authors acknowledge that their raw data did not allow them to make any observations on a relationship between surface-sharing and breastfeeding, my anecdotal observations have found an unfortunate number of mothers who have become human pacifiers for their babies and are co-sleeping. This association can result in a sleep-deprived parent(s) with unhealthy consequences. Although it can be difficult to uncouple breastfeeding from settling, early intervention triggered by asking a simple question can improve the chances of resolution.

Although I may quibble with the wording of authors’ final conclusion, this is an excellent paper worth looking at. SUID while infrequent and for the most part still mysterious is a tragedy that we should be able to prevent.

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

In this February’s issue of the journal Pediatrics there is an interesting paper that explores the demographics and sleep environments of the more than 8000 sudden unexpected infant death (SUID) victims who died in the United States between 2011 and 2020. The authors’ broad conclusion was “Most SUID, regardless of sleep location, had multiple unsafe sleep factors present demonstrating the need for comprehensive sleep counseling for every family at every encounter.”

From the perspective of a former busy primary care physician I shudder when I read a statement this broad because it doesn’t acknowledge the realities of my professional life. A sentence containing “comprehensive” and two “every’s” won’t be taken seriously by most of the practicing pediatricians I know. However, there is an abundance of information generated by these investigators that could help a pediatrician target his advice to the individual families in his practice without having to resort to time-consuming comprehensive counseling, which is likely to sound like just so much chatter to families overwhelmed by the new challenge of raising a child.

For example, nearly 60% of SUID cases were sharing a sleep surface when they died, and surface-sharing infants were more likely to not have a crib in their home. It seems to me that one should start with the simple question, “Do your have a crib in your home ... in all the homes where the baby will sleep?” And, it should be asked in the hospital prior to discharge.

In 1993, our second-born daughter went home from a teaching hospital in a cardboard box. So did all of her nursery mates. It was decorated with a stork motif and had served as her bassinet. Since early in the last century, families in Finland have been offered a similar box filled with baby supplies. Shrinkflation has caused a scale back in its contents, but the box itself has remained as a safe and inexpensive sleep surface for income-challenged families.

Many babies in this country are put to sleep in a variety of places as they are shuttled around to where the inexpensive childcare is available. Offering families as many boxes as they need may avoid the tragedy of their infant smothering on Aunt Louise’s couch or Cousin Martha’s bed littered with pillows. This is particularly important in a family with multiples (twins, triplets, etc.) who are overrepresented in the SUID population. The opening question about crib availability is likely to alert the healthcare provider to a social situation dominated by poverty that may include lower parental education and a higher likelihood of residential insecurity, all of which are associated with surface-sharing.

The authors observe “surface-sharing in and of itself may not be what caregiver education should focus on.” A simple cardboard box, however, is not a sleep surface likely to be shared with an adult.

For the families for whom surface-sharing is a choice and not a necessity, the investigators encourage us to engage families on their motivation for surface-sharing. This is a discussion that clinicians should be initiating, regardless of our concern of SUID prevention, by simply asking “How are you and your baby sleeping?” Is the baby being nursed to sleep? Where? While the authors acknowledge that their raw data did not allow them to make any observations on a relationship between surface-sharing and breastfeeding, my anecdotal observations have found an unfortunate number of mothers who have become human pacifiers for their babies and are co-sleeping. This association can result in a sleep-deprived parent(s) with unhealthy consequences. Although it can be difficult to uncouple breastfeeding from settling, early intervention triggered by asking a simple question can improve the chances of resolution.

Although I may quibble with the wording of authors’ final conclusion, this is an excellent paper worth looking at. SUID while infrequent and for the most part still mysterious is a tragedy that we should be able to prevent.

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

I can’t remember where I heard it. Maybe I made it up myself. But, one definition of a family is a group of folks with whom you share your genes and germs. In that same vein, one could define daycare as a group of germ-sharing children. Of course that’s news to almost no one. Parents who decide, or are forced, to send their children to daycare expect that those children will get more colds, “stomach flu,” and ear infections than the children who spend their days in isolation at home. Everyone from the pediatrician to the little old lady next door has warned parents of the inevitable reality of daycare. Of course there are upsides that parents can cling to, including increased socialization and the hope that getting sick young will build a more robust immunity in the long run.

However, there has been little research exploring the nuances of the germ sharing that we all know is happening in these and other social settings.

A team of evolutionary biologists at Harvard is working to better define the “social microbiome” and its “role in individuals’ susceptibility to, and resilience against, both communicable and noncommunicable diseases.” These researchers point out that while we harbor our own unique collection of microbes, we share those with the microbiomes of the people with whom we interact socially. They report that studies by other investigators have shown that residents of a household share a significant proportion of their gastrointestinal flora. There are other studies that have shown that villages can be identified by their own social biome. There are few social settings more intimately involved in microbe sharing than daycares. I have a friends who calls them “petri dishes.”

The biologists point out that antibiotic-resistant microbes can become part of an individual’s microbiome and can be shared with other individuals in their social group, who can then go on and share them in a different social environment. Imagine there is one popular physician in a community whose sense of antibiotic stewardship is, shall we say, somewhat lacking. By inappropriately prescribing antibiotics to a child or two in a daycare, he may be altering the social biome in that daycare, which could then jeopardize the health of all the children and eventually their own home-based social biomes, that may include an immune deficient individual.

The researchers also remind us that different cultures and countries may have different antibiotic usage patterns. Does this mean I am taking a risk by traveling in these “culture-dependent transmission landscapes”? Am I more likely to encounter an antibiotic-resistant microbe when I am visiting a country whose healthcare providers are less prudent prescribers?

However, as these evolutionary biologists point out, not all shared microbes are bad. There is some evidence in animals that individuals can share microbes that have been found to “increase resilience against colitis or improve their responsiveness to cancer therapy.” If a microbe can contribute to a disease that was once considered to be “noncommunicable,” we may need to redefine “communicable” in the light this more nuanced view of the social biome.

It became standard practice during the COVID pandemic to test dormitory and community sewage water to determine the level of infection. Can sewage water be used as a proxy for a social biome? If a parent is lucky enough to have a choice of daycares, would knowing each facility’s biome, as reflected in an analysis of its sewage effluent, help him or her decide? Should a daycare ask for a stool sample from each child before accepting him or her? Seems like this would raise some privacy issues, not to mention the logistical messiness of the process. As we learn more about social biomes, can we imagine a time when a daycare or country or region might proudly advertise itself as having the healthiest spectrum of microbes in its sewage system?

Communal living certainly has its benefits, not just for children but also adults as we realize how loneliness is eating its way into our society. However, living in close social contact means that, for better or worse, we will be reconfiguring our own personal biomes thanks to the inevitable gifts from our cohabitants.

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

I can’t remember where I heard it. Maybe I made it up myself. But, one definition of a family is a group of folks with whom you share your genes and germs. In that same vein, one could define daycare as a group of germ-sharing children. Of course that’s news to almost no one. Parents who decide, or are forced, to send their children to daycare expect that those children will get more colds, “stomach flu,” and ear infections than the children who spend their days in isolation at home. Everyone from the pediatrician to the little old lady next door has warned parents of the inevitable reality of daycare. Of course there are upsides that parents can cling to, including increased socialization and the hope that getting sick young will build a more robust immunity in the long run.

However, there has been little research exploring the nuances of the germ sharing that we all know is happening in these and other social settings.

A team of evolutionary biologists at Harvard is working to better define the “social microbiome” and its “role in individuals’ susceptibility to, and resilience against, both communicable and noncommunicable diseases.” These researchers point out that while we harbor our own unique collection of microbes, we share those with the microbiomes of the people with whom we interact socially. They report that studies by other investigators have shown that residents of a household share a significant proportion of their gastrointestinal flora. There are other studies that have shown that villages can be identified by their own social biome. There are few social settings more intimately involved in microbe sharing than daycares. I have a friends who calls them “petri dishes.”

The biologists point out that antibiotic-resistant microbes can become part of an individual’s microbiome and can be shared with other individuals in their social group, who can then go on and share them in a different social environment. Imagine there is one popular physician in a community whose sense of antibiotic stewardship is, shall we say, somewhat lacking. By inappropriately prescribing antibiotics to a child or two in a daycare, he may be altering the social biome in that daycare, which could then jeopardize the health of all the children and eventually their own home-based social biomes, that may include an immune deficient individual.

The researchers also remind us that different cultures and countries may have different antibiotic usage patterns. Does this mean I am taking a risk by traveling in these “culture-dependent transmission landscapes”? Am I more likely to encounter an antibiotic-resistant microbe when I am visiting a country whose healthcare providers are less prudent prescribers?

However, as these evolutionary biologists point out, not all shared microbes are bad. There is some evidence in animals that individuals can share microbes that have been found to “increase resilience against colitis or improve their responsiveness to cancer therapy.” If a microbe can contribute to a disease that was once considered to be “noncommunicable,” we may need to redefine “communicable” in the light this more nuanced view of the social biome.

It became standard practice during the COVID pandemic to test dormitory and community sewage water to determine the level of infection. Can sewage water be used as a proxy for a social biome? If a parent is lucky enough to have a choice of daycares, would knowing each facility’s biome, as reflected in an analysis of its sewage effluent, help him or her decide? Should a daycare ask for a stool sample from each child before accepting him or her? Seems like this would raise some privacy issues, not to mention the logistical messiness of the process. As we learn more about social biomes, can we imagine a time when a daycare or country or region might proudly advertise itself as having the healthiest spectrum of microbes in its sewage system?

Communal living certainly has its benefits, not just for children but also adults as we realize how loneliness is eating its way into our society. However, living in close social contact means that, for better or worse, we will be reconfiguring our own personal biomes thanks to the inevitable gifts from our cohabitants.

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

I can’t remember where I heard it. Maybe I made it up myself. But, one definition of a family is a group of folks with whom you share your genes and germs. In that same vein, one could define daycare as a group of germ-sharing children. Of course that’s news to almost no one. Parents who decide, or are forced, to send their children to daycare expect that those children will get more colds, “stomach flu,” and ear infections than the children who spend their days in isolation at home. Everyone from the pediatrician to the little old lady next door has warned parents of the inevitable reality of daycare. Of course there are upsides that parents can cling to, including increased socialization and the hope that getting sick young will build a more robust immunity in the long run.

However, there has been little research exploring the nuances of the germ sharing that we all know is happening in these and other social settings.

A team of evolutionary biologists at Harvard is working to better define the “social microbiome” and its “role in individuals’ susceptibility to, and resilience against, both communicable and noncommunicable diseases.” These researchers point out that while we harbor our own unique collection of microbes, we share those with the microbiomes of the people with whom we interact socially. They report that studies by other investigators have shown that residents of a household share a significant proportion of their gastrointestinal flora. There are other studies that have shown that villages can be identified by their own social biome. There are few social settings more intimately involved in microbe sharing than daycares. I have a friends who calls them “petri dishes.”

The biologists point out that antibiotic-resistant microbes can become part of an individual’s microbiome and can be shared with other individuals in their social group, who can then go on and share them in a different social environment. Imagine there is one popular physician in a community whose sense of antibiotic stewardship is, shall we say, somewhat lacking. By inappropriately prescribing antibiotics to a child or two in a daycare, he may be altering the social biome in that daycare, which could then jeopardize the health of all the children and eventually their own home-based social biomes, that may include an immune deficient individual.

The researchers also remind us that different cultures and countries may have different antibiotic usage patterns. Does this mean I am taking a risk by traveling in these “culture-dependent transmission landscapes”? Am I more likely to encounter an antibiotic-resistant microbe when I am visiting a country whose healthcare providers are less prudent prescribers?

However, as these evolutionary biologists point out, not all shared microbes are bad. There is some evidence in animals that individuals can share microbes that have been found to “increase resilience against colitis or improve their responsiveness to cancer therapy.” If a microbe can contribute to a disease that was once considered to be “noncommunicable,” we may need to redefine “communicable” in the light this more nuanced view of the social biome.

It became standard practice during the COVID pandemic to test dormitory and community sewage water to determine the level of infection. Can sewage water be used as a proxy for a social biome? If a parent is lucky enough to have a choice of daycares, would knowing each facility’s biome, as reflected in an analysis of its sewage effluent, help him or her decide? Should a daycare ask for a stool sample from each child before accepting him or her? Seems like this would raise some privacy issues, not to mention the logistical messiness of the process. As we learn more about social biomes, can we imagine a time when a daycare or country or region might proudly advertise itself as having the healthiest spectrum of microbes in its sewage system?

Communal living certainly has its benefits, not just for children but also adults as we realize how loneliness is eating its way into our society. However, living in close social contact means that, for better or worse, we will be reconfiguring our own personal biomes thanks to the inevitable gifts from our cohabitants.

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

I recently wrote about a fledgling program here in Maine in which some emergency room physicians were being outfitted with equipment and communications gear that would allow them to respond on the fly to emergencies in the field when they weren’t working in the hospital. I questioned the rationale of using in-house personnel, already in short supply, for the few situations in which trained EMT personnel would usually be called. At the same time, I promised to return to the broader subject of the role of physicians as first responders in a future letter. And, here it is.

Have you ever been on a plane or at a large public gathering and the public addressed system crackled, “Is there a doctor on board” or in the audience? Or have you been on the highway and come upon a fresh accident in which it appears that there may have been injuries? Or at a youth soccer game in which a player has been injured and is still on the ground?

How do you usually respond in situations like this? Do you immediately identify yourself as a physician? Or, do you routinely shy away from involvement? What thoughts run through your head?

Do you feel your training and experience with emergencies is so outdated that you doubt you could be of any assistance? Has your practice become so specialized that you aren’t comfortable with anything outside of your specialty? Maybe getting involved is likely to throw your already tight travel schedule into disarray? Or are you afraid that should something go wrong while you were helping out you could be sued?

Keeping in mind that I am a retired septuagenarian pediatrician more than a decade removed from active practice, I would describe my usual response to these situations as “attentive hovering.” I position myself to have a good view of the victim and watch to see if there are any other responders. Either because of their personality or their experience, often there is someone who steps forward to help. Trained EMTs seem to have no hesitancy going into action. If I sense things aren’t going well, or the victim is a child, I will identify myself as a retired pediatrician and offer my assistance. Even if the response given by others seems appropriate, I may still eventually identify myself, maybe to lend an air of legitimacy to the process.

What are the roots of my hesitancy? I have found that I generally have little to add when there is a trained first responder on hand. They have been-there-and-done-that far more recently than I have. They know how to stabilize potential or obvious fractures. They know how to position the victim for transport. Even when I am in an environment where my medical background is already known, I yield to the more recently experienced first responders.

I don’t particularly worry about being sued. Every state has Good Samaritan laws. Although the laws vary from state to state, here in Maine I feel comfortable with the good sense of my fellow citizens. I understand if you live or practice in a more litigious environment you may be more concerned. On an airplane there is the Aviation Medical Assistant Act, which became law in 1998, and provides us with some extra protection.

What if there is a situation in which even with my outdated skills I seem to be the only show in town? Fortunately, that situation hasn’t occurred for me in quite a few years, but the odds are that one might occur. In almost 1 out of 600 airline flights, there is an inflight emergency. I tend to hang out with other septuagenarians and octogenarians doing active things. And I frequent youth athletic events where there is unlikely to be a first responder assigned to the event.

Should I be doing more to update my skills? It’s been a while since I refreshed by CPR techniques. I can’t recall the last time I handled a defibrillator. Should I be learning more about exsanguination prevention techniques?

Every so often there are some rumblings to mandate that all physicians should be required to update these first responder skills to maintain their license or certification. That wouldn’t cover those of us who are retired or who no longer practice medicine. And, I’m not sure we need to add another layer to the system. I think there are enough of us out there who would like to add ourselves to the first responder population, maybe not as fully trained experts but as folks who would like to be more ready to help by updating old or seldom-used skills.

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

I recently wrote about a fledgling program here in Maine in which some emergency room physicians were being outfitted with equipment and communications gear that would allow them to respond on the fly to emergencies in the field when they weren’t working in the hospital. I questioned the rationale of using in-house personnel, already in short supply, for the few situations in which trained EMT personnel would usually be called. At the same time, I promised to return to the broader subject of the role of physicians as first responders in a future letter. And, here it is.

Have you ever been on a plane or at a large public gathering and the public addressed system crackled, “Is there a doctor on board” or in the audience? Or have you been on the highway and come upon a fresh accident in which it appears that there may have been injuries? Or at a youth soccer game in which a player has been injured and is still on the ground?

How do you usually respond in situations like this? Do you immediately identify yourself as a physician? Or, do you routinely shy away from involvement? What thoughts run through your head?

Do you feel your training and experience with emergencies is so outdated that you doubt you could be of any assistance? Has your practice become so specialized that you aren’t comfortable with anything outside of your specialty? Maybe getting involved is likely to throw your already tight travel schedule into disarray? Or are you afraid that should something go wrong while you were helping out you could be sued?

Keeping in mind that I am a retired septuagenarian pediatrician more than a decade removed from active practice, I would describe my usual response to these situations as “attentive hovering.” I position myself to have a good view of the victim and watch to see if there are any other responders. Either because of their personality or their experience, often there is someone who steps forward to help. Trained EMTs seem to have no hesitancy going into action. If I sense things aren’t going well, or the victim is a child, I will identify myself as a retired pediatrician and offer my assistance. Even if the response given by others seems appropriate, I may still eventually identify myself, maybe to lend an air of legitimacy to the process.

What are the roots of my hesitancy? I have found that I generally have little to add when there is a trained first responder on hand. They have been-there-and-done-that far more recently than I have. They know how to stabilize potential or obvious fractures. They know how to position the victim for transport. Even when I am in an environment where my medical background is already known, I yield to the more recently experienced first responders.

I don’t particularly worry about being sued. Every state has Good Samaritan laws. Although the laws vary from state to state, here in Maine I feel comfortable with the good sense of my fellow citizens. I understand if you live or practice in a more litigious environment you may be more concerned. On an airplane there is the Aviation Medical Assistant Act, which became law in 1998, and provides us with some extra protection.

What if there is a situation in which even with my outdated skills I seem to be the only show in town? Fortunately, that situation hasn’t occurred for me in quite a few years, but the odds are that one might occur. In almost 1 out of 600 airline flights, there is an inflight emergency. I tend to hang out with other septuagenarians and octogenarians doing active things. And I frequent youth athletic events where there is unlikely to be a first responder assigned to the event.

Should I be doing more to update my skills? It’s been a while since I refreshed by CPR techniques. I can’t recall the last time I handled a defibrillator. Should I be learning more about exsanguination prevention techniques?

Every so often there are some rumblings to mandate that all physicians should be required to update these first responder skills to maintain their license or certification. That wouldn’t cover those of us who are retired or who no longer practice medicine. And, I’m not sure we need to add another layer to the system. I think there are enough of us out there who would like to add ourselves to the first responder population, maybe not as fully trained experts but as folks who would like to be more ready to help by updating old or seldom-used skills.

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

I recently wrote about a fledgling program here in Maine in which some emergency room physicians were being outfitted with equipment and communications gear that would allow them to respond on the fly to emergencies in the field when they weren’t working in the hospital. I questioned the rationale of using in-house personnel, already in short supply, for the few situations in which trained EMT personnel would usually be called. At the same time, I promised to return to the broader subject of the role of physicians as first responders in a future letter. And, here it is.

Have you ever been on a plane or at a large public gathering and the public addressed system crackled, “Is there a doctor on board” or in the audience? Or have you been on the highway and come upon a fresh accident in which it appears that there may have been injuries? Or at a youth soccer game in which a player has been injured and is still on the ground?

How do you usually respond in situations like this? Do you immediately identify yourself as a physician? Or, do you routinely shy away from involvement? What thoughts run through your head?

Do you feel your training and experience with emergencies is so outdated that you doubt you could be of any assistance? Has your practice become so specialized that you aren’t comfortable with anything outside of your specialty? Maybe getting involved is likely to throw your already tight travel schedule into disarray? Or are you afraid that should something go wrong while you were helping out you could be sued?

Keeping in mind that I am a retired septuagenarian pediatrician more than a decade removed from active practice, I would describe my usual response to these situations as “attentive hovering.” I position myself to have a good view of the victim and watch to see if there are any other responders. Either because of their personality or their experience, often there is someone who steps forward to help. Trained EMTs seem to have no hesitancy going into action. If I sense things aren’t going well, or the victim is a child, I will identify myself as a retired pediatrician and offer my assistance. Even if the response given by others seems appropriate, I may still eventually identify myself, maybe to lend an air of legitimacy to the process.

What are the roots of my hesitancy? I have found that I generally have little to add when there is a trained first responder on hand. They have been-there-and-done-that far more recently than I have. They know how to stabilize potential or obvious fractures. They know how to position the victim for transport. Even when I am in an environment where my medical background is already known, I yield to the more recently experienced first responders.

I don’t particularly worry about being sued. Every state has Good Samaritan laws. Although the laws vary from state to state, here in Maine I feel comfortable with the good sense of my fellow citizens. I understand if you live or practice in a more litigious environment you may be more concerned. On an airplane there is the Aviation Medical Assistant Act, which became law in 1998, and provides us with some extra protection.

What if there is a situation in which even with my outdated skills I seem to be the only show in town? Fortunately, that situation hasn’t occurred for me in quite a few years, but the odds are that one might occur. In almost 1 out of 600 airline flights, there is an inflight emergency. I tend to hang out with other septuagenarians and octogenarians doing active things. And I frequent youth athletic events where there is unlikely to be a first responder assigned to the event.

Should I be doing more to update my skills? It’s been a while since I refreshed by CPR techniques. I can’t recall the last time I handled a defibrillator. Should I be learning more about exsanguination prevention techniques?

Every so often there are some rumblings to mandate that all physicians should be required to update these first responder skills to maintain their license or certification. That wouldn’t cover those of us who are retired or who no longer practice medicine. And, I’m not sure we need to add another layer to the system. I think there are enough of us out there who would like to add ourselves to the first responder population, maybe not as fully trained experts but as folks who would like to be more ready to help by updating old or seldom-used skills.

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

Blue Hill is a small idyllic town a little less than two and a half hours Down East the coast from where I am sitting here in Harpswell. Thanks to gentrification it tends to lean left politically, but like the rest of Maine most folks in the surrounding communities often don’t know or care much about their neighbor’s party affiliation. Its library, founded in 1796, is well funded and a source of civic pride.

One day a couple of years ago, the library director received a donated book from a patron. Although he personally didn’t agree with the book’s message, he felt it deserved a space in their collection dealing with the subject. What happened in the wake of this donation is an ugly tale. Some community members objected to the book and asked that it be removed from the shelves, or at least kept under the desk and loaned out only on request.

The objectors, many of whom knew the director, were confrontational. The collections committee unanimously supported his decision. Some committee members also received similar responses from community members. Remember, this is a small town.

A request for support sent to the American Library Association was basically ignored. Over the next 2 years things have quieted, but fractured friendships and relationships in this quiet coastal Maine town have not been repaired. However, as the librarian has observed, “intellectual freedom or the freedom of speech isn’t there just to protect the ideas that we like.”

While the title of the book may feel inflammatory to some, every publisher hopes to grab the market’s attention with a hot title. The cause of this sad situation in Blue Hill was not a white supremacist’s polemic offering specific ways to create genocide. This was a book suggesting that gender dysphoria presenting in adolescence may have multiple causes and raises concerns about the wisdom of the pace of some gender-affirming care.

Clearly the topic of gender dysphoria in adolescence has become a third rail that must be approached with caution or completely avoided. A recent opinion piece in the New York Times provides even more concerning examples of this peril. Again, the eye-catching title of the article — As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do — draws in the audience eager to read about some unfortunate individuals who have regretted their decision to transition and are now detransitioning.

If you are interested in hearing anecdotal evidence and opinions supporting the notion that there is such a thing as rapid-onset gender dysphoria, I suggest you read the entire piece. However, the article’s most troubling message for me comes when I read about the professionals who were former gender-related care providers who left the field because of “pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process.”

One therapist trained in gender-affirming care who began to have doubts about the model and spoke out in favor of a more measured approach was investigated by her licensing board after transgender advocates threatened to report her. Ultimately, her case was dismissed, but she continues to fear for her safety.

Gender-related healthcare is another sad example of how in this country it is the noise coming from the advocates on the extremes of the issue that is drowning out the “vast ideological middle” that is seeking civil and rational discussions.

In this situation there are those who want to make it illegal for the healthcare providers to help patients who might benefit from transitioning. On the other end of the spectrum are those advocates who are unwilling to acknowledge that there may be some adolescents with what has been called by some “rapid-onset gender dysphoria.”

The landscape on which this tragedy is being played out is changing so quickly that there will be no correct answers in the short term. There just isn’t enough data. However, there is enough anecdotal evidence from professionals who were and still are practicing gender-related care to raise a concern that something is happening in the adolescent population that suggests some individuals with gender dysphoria should be managed in a different way than the currently accepted gender-affirming model. The size of this subgroup is up for debate and we may never learn it because of reporting bias and privacy concerns.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has recently authorized a systematic review of gender-affirming care. I hope that, like the librarian in Blue Hill, it will have the courage to include all the evidence available even though, as we have seen here in Maine, some of it may spark a firestorm of vehement responses.

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

Blue Hill is a small idyllic town a little less than two and a half hours Down East the coast from where I am sitting here in Harpswell. Thanks to gentrification it tends to lean left politically, but like the rest of Maine most folks in the surrounding communities often don’t know or care much about their neighbor’s party affiliation. Its library, founded in 1796, is well funded and a source of civic pride.

One day a couple of years ago, the library director received a donated book from a patron. Although he personally didn’t agree with the book’s message, he felt it deserved a space in their collection dealing with the subject. What happened in the wake of this donation is an ugly tale. Some community members objected to the book and asked that it be removed from the shelves, or at least kept under the desk and loaned out only on request.

The objectors, many of whom knew the director, were confrontational. The collections committee unanimously supported his decision. Some committee members also received similar responses from community members. Remember, this is a small town.

A request for support sent to the American Library Association was basically ignored. Over the next 2 years things have quieted, but fractured friendships and relationships in this quiet coastal Maine town have not been repaired. However, as the librarian has observed, “intellectual freedom or the freedom of speech isn’t there just to protect the ideas that we like.”

While the title of the book may feel inflammatory to some, every publisher hopes to grab the market’s attention with a hot title. The cause of this sad situation in Blue Hill was not a white supremacist’s polemic offering specific ways to create genocide. This was a book suggesting that gender dysphoria presenting in adolescence may have multiple causes and raises concerns about the wisdom of the pace of some gender-affirming care.

Clearly the topic of gender dysphoria in adolescence has become a third rail that must be approached with caution or completely avoided. A recent opinion piece in the New York Times provides even more concerning examples of this peril. Again, the eye-catching title of the article — As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do — draws in the audience eager to read about some unfortunate individuals who have regretted their decision to transition and are now detransitioning.

If you are interested in hearing anecdotal evidence and opinions supporting the notion that there is such a thing as rapid-onset gender dysphoria, I suggest you read the entire piece. However, the article’s most troubling message for me comes when I read about the professionals who were former gender-related care providers who left the field because of “pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process.”

One therapist trained in gender-affirming care who began to have doubts about the model and spoke out in favor of a more measured approach was investigated by her licensing board after transgender advocates threatened to report her. Ultimately, her case was dismissed, but she continues to fear for her safety.

Gender-related healthcare is another sad example of how in this country it is the noise coming from the advocates on the extremes of the issue that is drowning out the “vast ideological middle” that is seeking civil and rational discussions.

In this situation there are those who want to make it illegal for the healthcare providers to help patients who might benefit from transitioning. On the other end of the spectrum are those advocates who are unwilling to acknowledge that there may be some adolescents with what has been called by some “rapid-onset gender dysphoria.”

The landscape on which this tragedy is being played out is changing so quickly that there will be no correct answers in the short term. There just isn’t enough data. However, there is enough anecdotal evidence from professionals who were and still are practicing gender-related care to raise a concern that something is happening in the adolescent population that suggests some individuals with gender dysphoria should be managed in a different way than the currently accepted gender-affirming model. The size of this subgroup is up for debate and we may never learn it because of reporting bias and privacy concerns.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has recently authorized a systematic review of gender-affirming care. I hope that, like the librarian in Blue Hill, it will have the courage to include all the evidence available even though, as we have seen here in Maine, some of it may spark a firestorm of vehement responses.

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

Blue Hill is a small idyllic town a little less than two and a half hours Down East the coast from where I am sitting here in Harpswell. Thanks to gentrification it tends to lean left politically, but like the rest of Maine most folks in the surrounding communities often don’t know or care much about their neighbor’s party affiliation. Its library, founded in 1796, is well funded and a source of civic pride.

One day a couple of years ago, the library director received a donated book from a patron. Although he personally didn’t agree with the book’s message, he felt it deserved a space in their collection dealing with the subject. What happened in the wake of this donation is an ugly tale. Some community members objected to the book and asked that it be removed from the shelves, or at least kept under the desk and loaned out only on request.

The objectors, many of whom knew the director, were confrontational. The collections committee unanimously supported his decision. Some committee members also received similar responses from community members. Remember, this is a small town.

A request for support sent to the American Library Association was basically ignored. Over the next 2 years things have quieted, but fractured friendships and relationships in this quiet coastal Maine town have not been repaired. However, as the librarian has observed, “intellectual freedom or the freedom of speech isn’t there just to protect the ideas that we like.”

While the title of the book may feel inflammatory to some, every publisher hopes to grab the market’s attention with a hot title. The cause of this sad situation in Blue Hill was not a white supremacist’s polemic offering specific ways to create genocide. This was a book suggesting that gender dysphoria presenting in adolescence may have multiple causes and raises concerns about the wisdom of the pace of some gender-affirming care.

Clearly the topic of gender dysphoria in adolescence has become a third rail that must be approached with caution or completely avoided. A recent opinion piece in the New York Times provides even more concerning examples of this peril. Again, the eye-catching title of the article — As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do — draws in the audience eager to read about some unfortunate individuals who have regretted their decision to transition and are now detransitioning.

If you are interested in hearing anecdotal evidence and opinions supporting the notion that there is such a thing as rapid-onset gender dysphoria, I suggest you read the entire piece. However, the article’s most troubling message for me comes when I read about the professionals who were former gender-related care providers who left the field because of “pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process.”

One therapist trained in gender-affirming care who began to have doubts about the model and spoke out in favor of a more measured approach was investigated by her licensing board after transgender advocates threatened to report her. Ultimately, her case was dismissed, but she continues to fear for her safety.

Gender-related healthcare is another sad example of how in this country it is the noise coming from the advocates on the extremes of the issue that is drowning out the “vast ideological middle” that is seeking civil and rational discussions.

In this situation there are those who want to make it illegal for the healthcare providers to help patients who might benefit from transitioning. On the other end of the spectrum are those advocates who are unwilling to acknowledge that there may be some adolescents with what has been called by some “rapid-onset gender dysphoria.”

The landscape on which this tragedy is being played out is changing so quickly that there will be no correct answers in the short term. There just isn’t enough data. However, there is enough anecdotal evidence from professionals who were and still are practicing gender-related care to raise a concern that something is happening in the adolescent population that suggests some individuals with gender dysphoria should be managed in a different way than the currently accepted gender-affirming model. The size of this subgroup is up for debate and we may never learn it because of reporting bias and privacy concerns.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has recently authorized a systematic review of gender-affirming care. I hope that, like the librarian in Blue Hill, it will have the courage to include all the evidence available even though, as we have seen here in Maine, some of it may spark a firestorm of vehement responses.

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

When I was an intern and junior resident there was a fellow house officer who seemed to be a magnet for out-of-hospital emergencies. There were a couple of car accidents, a baby to be delivered, an elderly neighbor with alarming chest pain, and a little old lady with syncope, plus a few playground incidents that required more than a little on-site tending and triage. It got to the point where he felt he needed to raid the hospital supply closets to build himself a proper emergency kit.

Envious of his excitement I, of course, followed suit. However, my well-appointed plastic tackle box remained unopened on the floor behind the driver’s seat in my car. Sure, there were Band-Aids to be dispensed from time to time but mostly I was the on-site reassurer and triage consultant at the playground. I almost never suggested a trip to the emergency room. No little old ladies crumpled to the floor in front of me in the checkout line at the grocery store. No distracted teenage drivers plowed into telephone poles anywhere within earshot.

When I began my practice here on the midcoast of Maine, my protective aura traveled with me. I went looking for excitement by signing on as the team physician for the local high school football team. But, other than a few minor concussions, which in those days we “treated” with a “sit on the bench for awhile and I’ll ask you a few questions,” my first responder experiences continued to be boringly undramatic. Not even any obvious dislocations or angulated fractures on the playground or athletic fields I frequented.

My professional adventures were confined to the hospital, where every physician regardless of specialty training was required to take a shift covering the emergency room. Talk about a situation looking for trouble. The concept of physicians with specialty training in emergency room medicine had not yet occurred to anyone in rural Maine. Although there were anxiety-provoking nights waiting for the disasters to arrive, somehow the shit never hit the fan while I was on duty.

Finally, after several more years of this bad (or good) fortune I was on a bike ride out in the country alone on a back road and came upon a fresh single-vehicle-single-occupant accident. Steam and smoke coming out of the engine compartment, the young driver slumped over the steering wheel. I was able to pry the door open but couldn’t find a pulse. I thumped him three times on the chest and eventually could detect a pulse and he began to stir. When the ambulance arrived I dragged my bike into the back of the ambulance with me and monitored him on the way to the hospital. He did fine, only to die in another accident a few years later.

A recent article in one of our local newspapers described a fledgling program in which three emergency room physicians are being equipped with supplies and communication links that will allow them to respond to emergent situations in the field. The program is currently seeking to extend its funding for another year. Its advocates argue that the need is twofold. There is currently a regional shortage of fully trained first responder EMTs. And having an extra pair of hands in the field could ease the burden of the already overutilized emergency rooms.

I am sure the physicians who have signed on to become first responders are passionate about the need and probably enjoy the excitement of in-the-field professional experiences, much as my fellow house officer did. However, were I sitting on the committee that controls the funding of programs like this I would want to take a step back and consider whether using primary care physicians, who are already in short supply, as first responders made sense. Some of the scenarios may be dramatic and the physician’s contribution may be life saving. But I suspect in the long run these headline-making stories will be few and far between.

The argument that putting physicians in the field will make a significant dent in the emergency room overutilization crisis we have in this country doesn’t hold water. Extending outpatient office hours, education, and improved phone triage to name just a few would have a bigger impact. I suspect there are other countries and even some counties in this country that may already use physicians as first responders. It just doesn’t seem to be a model that will work well given the realities in most semirural and suburban locales.

The real question that must wait for another Letters From Maine column is how well prepared should all of us who have graduated from medical school be to function as first responders. There are thousands of us out there who initially had the training and could, with some updating, become a valuable source of first-responders. Where do issues like continuing education requirements and Good Samaritan protection fit into the equation? The answers in a future Letter.

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

When I was an intern and junior resident there was a fellow house officer who seemed to be a magnet for out-of-hospital emergencies. There were a couple of car accidents, a baby to be delivered, an elderly neighbor with alarming chest pain, and a little old lady with syncope, plus a few playground incidents that required more than a little on-site tending and triage. It got to the point where he felt he needed to raid the hospital supply closets to build himself a proper emergency kit.

Envious of his excitement I, of course, followed suit. However, my well-appointed plastic tackle box remained unopened on the floor behind the driver’s seat in my car. Sure, there were Band-Aids to be dispensed from time to time but mostly I was the on-site reassurer and triage consultant at the playground. I almost never suggested a trip to the emergency room. No little old ladies crumpled to the floor in front of me in the checkout line at the grocery store. No distracted teenage drivers plowed into telephone poles anywhere within earshot.

When I began my practice here on the midcoast of Maine, my protective aura traveled with me. I went looking for excitement by signing on as the team physician for the local high school football team. But, other than a few minor concussions, which in those days we “treated” with a “sit on the bench for awhile and I’ll ask you a few questions,” my first responder experiences continued to be boringly undramatic. Not even any obvious dislocations or angulated fractures on the playground or athletic fields I frequented.

My professional adventures were confined to the hospital, where every physician regardless of specialty training was required to take a shift covering the emergency room. Talk about a situation looking for trouble. The concept of physicians with specialty training in emergency room medicine had not yet occurred to anyone in rural Maine. Although there were anxiety-provoking nights waiting for the disasters to arrive, somehow the shit never hit the fan while I was on duty.

Finally, after several more years of this bad (or good) fortune I was on a bike ride out in the country alone on a back road and came upon a fresh single-vehicle-single-occupant accident. Steam and smoke coming out of the engine compartment, the young driver slumped over the steering wheel. I was able to pry the door open but couldn’t find a pulse. I thumped him three times on the chest and eventually could detect a pulse and he began to stir. When the ambulance arrived I dragged my bike into the back of the ambulance with me and monitored him on the way to the hospital. He did fine, only to die in another accident a few years later.

A recent article in one of our local newspapers described a fledgling program in which three emergency room physicians are being equipped with supplies and communication links that will allow them to respond to emergent situations in the field. The program is currently seeking to extend its funding for another year. Its advocates argue that the need is twofold. There is currently a regional shortage of fully trained first responder EMTs. And having an extra pair of hands in the field could ease the burden of the already overutilized emergency rooms.

I am sure the physicians who have signed on to become first responders are passionate about the need and probably enjoy the excitement of in-the-field professional experiences, much as my fellow house officer did. However, were I sitting on the committee that controls the funding of programs like this I would want to take a step back and consider whether using primary care physicians, who are already in short supply, as first responders made sense. Some of the scenarios may be dramatic and the physician’s contribution may be life saving. But I suspect in the long run these headline-making stories will be few and far between.

The argument that putting physicians in the field will make a significant dent in the emergency room overutilization crisis we have in this country doesn’t hold water. Extending outpatient office hours, education, and improved phone triage to name just a few would have a bigger impact. I suspect there are other countries and even some counties in this country that may already use physicians as first responders. It just doesn’t seem to be a model that will work well given the realities in most semirural and suburban locales.

The real question that must wait for another Letters From Maine column is how well prepared should all of us who have graduated from medical school be to function as first responders. There are thousands of us out there who initially had the training and could, with some updating, become a valuable source of first-responders. Where do issues like continuing education requirements and Good Samaritan protection fit into the equation? The answers in a future Letter.

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

When I was an intern and junior resident there was a fellow house officer who seemed to be a magnet for out-of-hospital emergencies. There were a couple of car accidents, a baby to be delivered, an elderly neighbor with alarming chest pain, and a little old lady with syncope, plus a few playground incidents that required more than a little on-site tending and triage. It got to the point where he felt he needed to raid the hospital supply closets to build himself a proper emergency kit.

Envious of his excitement I, of course, followed suit. However, my well-appointed plastic tackle box remained unopened on the floor behind the driver’s seat in my car. Sure, there were Band-Aids to be dispensed from time to time but mostly I was the on-site reassurer and triage consultant at the playground. I almost never suggested a trip to the emergency room. No little old ladies crumpled to the floor in front of me in the checkout line at the grocery store. No distracted teenage drivers plowed into telephone poles anywhere within earshot.

When I began my practice here on the midcoast of Maine, my protective aura traveled with me. I went looking for excitement by signing on as the team physician for the local high school football team. But, other than a few minor concussions, which in those days we “treated” with a “sit on the bench for awhile and I’ll ask you a few questions,” my first responder experiences continued to be boringly undramatic. Not even any obvious dislocations or angulated fractures on the playground or athletic fields I frequented.

My professional adventures were confined to the hospital, where every physician regardless of specialty training was required to take a shift covering the emergency room. Talk about a situation looking for trouble. The concept of physicians with specialty training in emergency room medicine had not yet occurred to anyone in rural Maine. Although there were anxiety-provoking nights waiting for the disasters to arrive, somehow the shit never hit the fan while I was on duty.

Finally, after several more years of this bad (or good) fortune I was on a bike ride out in the country alone on a back road and came upon a fresh single-vehicle-single-occupant accident. Steam and smoke coming out of the engine compartment, the young driver slumped over the steering wheel. I was able to pry the door open but couldn’t find a pulse. I thumped him three times on the chest and eventually could detect a pulse and he began to stir. When the ambulance arrived I dragged my bike into the back of the ambulance with me and monitored him on the way to the hospital. He did fine, only to die in another accident a few years later.

A recent article in one of our local newspapers described a fledgling program in which three emergency room physicians are being equipped with supplies and communication links that will allow them to respond to emergent situations in the field. The program is currently seeking to extend its funding for another year. Its advocates argue that the need is twofold. There is currently a regional shortage of fully trained first responder EMTs. And having an extra pair of hands in the field could ease the burden of the already overutilized emergency rooms.

I am sure the physicians who have signed on to become first responders are passionate about the need and probably enjoy the excitement of in-the-field professional experiences, much as my fellow house officer did. However, were I sitting on the committee that controls the funding of programs like this I would want to take a step back and consider whether using primary care physicians, who are already in short supply, as first responders made sense. Some of the scenarios may be dramatic and the physician’s contribution may be life saving. But I suspect in the long run these headline-making stories will be few and far between.

The argument that putting physicians in the field will make a significant dent in the emergency room overutilization crisis we have in this country doesn’t hold water. Extending outpatient office hours, education, and improved phone triage to name just a few would have a bigger impact. I suspect there are other countries and even some counties in this country that may already use physicians as first responders. It just doesn’t seem to be a model that will work well given the realities in most semirural and suburban locales.

The real question that must wait for another Letters From Maine column is how well prepared should all of us who have graduated from medical school be to function as first responders. There are thousands of us out there who initially had the training and could, with some updating, become a valuable source of first-responders. Where do issues like continuing education requirements and Good Samaritan protection fit into the equation? The answers in a future Letter.

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