Commentary

With the COVID-19 pandemic turning the world on its head, we have seen more first-episode psychotic breaks and quick deterioration in previously stable patients. Early in the pandemic, care was particularly complicated for psychiatric patients who had been infected with the virus. Many of these patients required immediate psychiatric hospitalization. At that time, many community hospital psychiatric inpatient units did not have the capacity, staffing, or infrastructure to safely admit such patients, so they needed to be managed on a medical unit. Here, I discuss the case of a COVID-19–positive woman with psychiatric illness who we managed while she was in quarantine on a medical unit.

Case report

Early in the COVID-19 pandemic, Ms. B, a 35-year-old teacher with a history of depression, was evaluated in the emergency department for bizarre behavior and paranoid delusions regarding her family. Initial laboratory and imaging testing was negative for any potential medical causes of her psychiatric symptoms. Psychiatric hospitalization was recommended, but before Ms. B could be transferred to the psychiatric unit, she tested positive for COVID-19. At that time, our community hospital did not have a designated wing on our psychiatric unit for patients infected with COVID-19. Thus, Ms. B was admitted to the medical floor, where she was quarantined in her room. She would need to remain asymptomatic and test negative for COVID-19 before she could be transferred to the psychiatric unit.

Upon arriving at the medical unit, Ms. B was hostile and uncooperative. She frequently attempted to leave her room and required restraints throughout the day. Our consultation-liaison (CL) team was consulted to assist in managing her. During the initial interview, we noticed that she had covered all 4 walls of her room with papers filled with handwritten notes. Ms. B had cut her gown to expose her stomach and legs. She had pressured speech, tangential thinking, and was religiously preoccupied. She denied any visual and auditory hallucinations, but her persecutory delusions involving her family persisted. We believed that her signs and symptoms were consistent with a manic episode from underlying, and likely undiagnosed, bipolar I disorder that was precipitated by her COVID-19 infection.

We first addressed Ms. B’s and the staff’s safety by transferring her to a larger room with a vestibule at the end of the hallway so she had more room to walk and minimal exposure to the stimuli of the medical unit. We initiated one-on-one observation to redirect her and prevent elopement. We incentivized her cooperation with staff by providing her with paper, pencils, reading material, and phone privileges. We started oral risperidone 2 mg twice daily and lorazepam 2 mg 3 times daily for short-term behavioral control and acute treatment of her symptoms, with the goal of deferring additional treatment decisions to the inpatient psychiatry team after she was transferred to the psychiatric unit. Ms. B’s agitation and impulsivity improved. She began participating with the medical team and was eventually transferred out of our medical unit to a psychiatric unit at a different facility.

COVID-19 and psychiatric illness: Clinical concerns

While infection from COVID-19 and widespread social distancing of the general population have been linked to depression and anxiety, manic and psychotic symptoms secondary to the COVID-19 pandemic have not been well described. The association between influenza infection and psychosis has been reported since the Spanish Flu pandemic,¹ but there is limited data on the association between COVID-19 and psychosis. A review of 14 studies found that 0.9% to 4% of people exposed to a virus during an epidemic or pandemic develop psychosis or psychotic symptoms.¹ Psychosis was associated with viral exposure, treatments used to manage the infection (steroid therapy), and psychosocial stress. This study also found that treatment with low doses of antipsychotic medication—notably aripiprazole—seemed to have been effective.¹

Nonetheless, it is important to keep in mind a thorough differential diagnosis and rule out any potential organic etiologies in a COVID-19–positive patient who presents with psychiatric symptoms.² For Ms. B, we began by ruling out drug-induced psychosis and electrolyte imbalance, and obtained brain imaging to rule out malignancy. We considered an interictal behavior syndrome of temporal lobe epilepsy, a neuropsychiatric disorder characterized by alterations in sexual behavior, religiosity, and extensive and compulsive writing and drawing.³ Neurology was consulted to evaluate the patient and possibly use EEG to detect interictal spikes, a tall task given the patient’s restlessness and paranoia. Ultimately, we determined the patient was most likely exhibiting symptoms of previously undetected bipolar disorder.

Managing patients with psychiatric illness on a medical floor during a pandemic such as COVID-19 requires the psychiatrist to truly serve as a consultant and liaison between the patient and the treatment team.⁴ Clinical management should address both infection control and psychiatric symptoms.⁵ We visited with Ms. B frequently, provided psychoeducation, engaged her in treatment, and updated her on the treatment plan.

As the medical world continues to adjust to treating patients during the pandemic, CL psychiatrists may be tasked with managing patients with acute psychiatric illness on the medical unit while they await transfer to a psychiatric unit. A creative, multifaceted, and team-based approach is key to ensure effective care and safety for all involved.

With the COVID-19 pandemic turning the world on its head, we have seen more first-episode psychotic breaks and quick deterioration in previously stable patients. Early in the pandemic, care was particularly complicated for psychiatric patients who had been infected with the virus. Many of these patients required immediate psychiatric hospitalization. At that time, many community hospital psychiatric inpatient units did not have the capacity, staffing, or infrastructure to safely admit such patients, so they needed to be managed on a medical unit. Here, I discuss the case of a COVID-19–positive woman with psychiatric illness who we managed while she was in quarantine on a medical unit.

Case report

Early in the COVID-19 pandemic, Ms. B, a 35-year-old teacher with a history of depression, was evaluated in the emergency department for bizarre behavior and paranoid delusions regarding her family. Initial laboratory and imaging testing was negative for any potential medical causes of her psychiatric symptoms. Psychiatric hospitalization was recommended, but before Ms. B could be transferred to the psychiatric unit, she tested positive for COVID-19. At that time, our community hospital did not have a designated wing on our psychiatric unit for patients infected with COVID-19. Thus, Ms. B was admitted to the medical floor, where she was quarantined in her room. She would need to remain asymptomatic and test negative for COVID-19 before she could be transferred to the psychiatric unit.

Upon arriving at the medical unit, Ms. B was hostile and uncooperative. She frequently attempted to leave her room and required restraints throughout the day. Our consultation-liaison (CL) team was consulted to assist in managing her. During the initial interview, we noticed that she had covered all 4 walls of her room with papers filled with handwritten notes. Ms. B had cut her gown to expose her stomach and legs. She had pressured speech, tangential thinking, and was religiously preoccupied. She denied any visual and auditory hallucinations, but her persecutory delusions involving her family persisted. We believed that her signs and symptoms were consistent with a manic episode from underlying, and likely undiagnosed, bipolar I disorder that was precipitated by her COVID-19 infection.

We first addressed Ms. B’s and the staff’s safety by transferring her to a larger room with a vestibule at the end of the hallway so she had more room to walk and minimal exposure to the stimuli of the medical unit. We initiated one-on-one observation to redirect her and prevent elopement. We incentivized her cooperation with staff by providing her with paper, pencils, reading material, and phone privileges. We started oral risperidone 2 mg twice daily and lorazepam 2 mg 3 times daily for short-term behavioral control and acute treatment of her symptoms, with the goal of deferring additional treatment decisions to the inpatient psychiatry team after she was transferred to the psychiatric unit. Ms. B’s agitation and impulsivity improved. She began participating with the medical team and was eventually transferred out of our medical unit to a psychiatric unit at a different facility.

COVID-19 and psychiatric illness: Clinical concerns

While infection from COVID-19 and widespread social distancing of the general population have been linked to depression and anxiety, manic and psychotic symptoms secondary to the COVID-19 pandemic have not been well described. The association between influenza infection and psychosis has been reported since the Spanish Flu pandemic,¹ but there is limited data on the association between COVID-19 and psychosis. A review of 14 studies found that 0.9% to 4% of people exposed to a virus during an epidemic or pandemic develop psychosis or psychotic symptoms.¹ Psychosis was associated with viral exposure, treatments used to manage the infection (steroid therapy), and psychosocial stress. This study also found that treatment with low doses of antipsychotic medication—notably aripiprazole—seemed to have been effective.¹

Nonetheless, it is important to keep in mind a thorough differential diagnosis and rule out any potential organic etiologies in a COVID-19–positive patient who presents with psychiatric symptoms.² For Ms. B, we began by ruling out drug-induced psychosis and electrolyte imbalance, and obtained brain imaging to rule out malignancy. We considered an interictal behavior syndrome of temporal lobe epilepsy, a neuropsychiatric disorder characterized by alterations in sexual behavior, religiosity, and extensive and compulsive writing and drawing.³ Neurology was consulted to evaluate the patient and possibly use EEG to detect interictal spikes, a tall task given the patient’s restlessness and paranoia. Ultimately, we determined the patient was most likely exhibiting symptoms of previously undetected bipolar disorder.

Managing patients with psychiatric illness on a medical floor during a pandemic such as COVID-19 requires the psychiatrist to truly serve as a consultant and liaison between the patient and the treatment team.⁴ Clinical management should address both infection control and psychiatric symptoms.⁵ We visited with Ms. B frequently, provided psychoeducation, engaged her in treatment, and updated her on the treatment plan.

As the medical world continues to adjust to treating patients during the pandemic, CL psychiatrists may be tasked with managing patients with acute psychiatric illness on the medical unit while they await transfer to a psychiatric unit. A creative, multifaceted, and team-based approach is key to ensure effective care and safety for all involved.

With the COVID-19 pandemic turning the world on its head, we have seen more first-episode psychotic breaks and quick deterioration in previously stable patients. Early in the pandemic, care was particularly complicated for psychiatric patients who had been infected with the virus. Many of these patients required immediate psychiatric hospitalization. At that time, many community hospital psychiatric inpatient units did not have the capacity, staffing, or infrastructure to safely admit such patients, so they needed to be managed on a medical unit. Here, I discuss the case of a COVID-19–positive woman with psychiatric illness who we managed while she was in quarantine on a medical unit.

Case report

Early in the COVID-19 pandemic, Ms. B, a 35-year-old teacher with a history of depression, was evaluated in the emergency department for bizarre behavior and paranoid delusions regarding her family. Initial laboratory and imaging testing was negative for any potential medical causes of her psychiatric symptoms. Psychiatric hospitalization was recommended, but before Ms. B could be transferred to the psychiatric unit, she tested positive for COVID-19. At that time, our community hospital did not have a designated wing on our psychiatric unit for patients infected with COVID-19. Thus, Ms. B was admitted to the medical floor, where she was quarantined in her room. She would need to remain asymptomatic and test negative for COVID-19 before she could be transferred to the psychiatric unit.

Upon arriving at the medical unit, Ms. B was hostile and uncooperative. She frequently attempted to leave her room and required restraints throughout the day. Our consultation-liaison (CL) team was consulted to assist in managing her. During the initial interview, we noticed that she had covered all 4 walls of her room with papers filled with handwritten notes. Ms. B had cut her gown to expose her stomach and legs. She had pressured speech, tangential thinking, and was religiously preoccupied. She denied any visual and auditory hallucinations, but her persecutory delusions involving her family persisted. We believed that her signs and symptoms were consistent with a manic episode from underlying, and likely undiagnosed, bipolar I disorder that was precipitated by her COVID-19 infection.

We first addressed Ms. B’s and the staff’s safety by transferring her to a larger room with a vestibule at the end of the hallway so she had more room to walk and minimal exposure to the stimuli of the medical unit. We initiated one-on-one observation to redirect her and prevent elopement. We incentivized her cooperation with staff by providing her with paper, pencils, reading material, and phone privileges. We started oral risperidone 2 mg twice daily and lorazepam 2 mg 3 times daily for short-term behavioral control and acute treatment of her symptoms, with the goal of deferring additional treatment decisions to the inpatient psychiatry team after she was transferred to the psychiatric unit. Ms. B’s agitation and impulsivity improved. She began participating with the medical team and was eventually transferred out of our medical unit to a psychiatric unit at a different facility.

COVID-19 and psychiatric illness: Clinical concerns

While infection from COVID-19 and widespread social distancing of the general population have been linked to depression and anxiety, manic and psychotic symptoms secondary to the COVID-19 pandemic have not been well described. The association between influenza infection and psychosis has been reported since the Spanish Flu pandemic,¹ but there is limited data on the association between COVID-19 and psychosis. A review of 14 studies found that 0.9% to 4% of people exposed to a virus during an epidemic or pandemic develop psychosis or psychotic symptoms.¹ Psychosis was associated with viral exposure, treatments used to manage the infection (steroid therapy), and psychosocial stress. This study also found that treatment with low doses of antipsychotic medication—notably aripiprazole—seemed to have been effective.¹

Nonetheless, it is important to keep in mind a thorough differential diagnosis and rule out any potential organic etiologies in a COVID-19–positive patient who presents with psychiatric symptoms.² For Ms. B, we began by ruling out drug-induced psychosis and electrolyte imbalance, and obtained brain imaging to rule out malignancy. We considered an interictal behavior syndrome of temporal lobe epilepsy, a neuropsychiatric disorder characterized by alterations in sexual behavior, religiosity, and extensive and compulsive writing and drawing.³ Neurology was consulted to evaluate the patient and possibly use EEG to detect interictal spikes, a tall task given the patient’s restlessness and paranoia. Ultimately, we determined the patient was most likely exhibiting symptoms of previously undetected bipolar disorder.

Managing patients with psychiatric illness on a medical floor during a pandemic such as COVID-19 requires the psychiatrist to truly serve as a consultant and liaison between the patient and the treatment team.⁴ Clinical management should address both infection control and psychiatric symptoms.⁵ We visited with Ms. B frequently, provided psychoeducation, engaged her in treatment, and updated her on the treatment plan.

As the medical world continues to adjust to treating patients during the pandemic, CL psychiatrists may be tasked with managing patients with acute psychiatric illness on the medical unit while they await transfer to a psychiatric unit. A creative, multifaceted, and team-based approach is key to ensure effective care and safety for all involved.

In this month’s issue of GI & Hepatology News, we celebrate the recently named recipients of this year’s AGA Recognition Prizes, several of whom I am privileged to work with on a daily basis. We also welcome the newest members of AGA’s Governing Board, Maria T. Abreu, MD, AGAF, who is an outstanding leader and representative of a much larger group of volunteer members who work tirelessly to advance AGA’s initiatives to enhance the clinical practice of gastroenterology and improve patient outcomes. The nominating committee also appointed the following slate of councilors, which is subject to membership vote: Kim Barrett, PhD, AGAF; Lawrence Kosinski, MD, MBA, AGAF; and Sheryl Pfeil, MD, AGAF.

This month’s issue also highlights two newly-developed clinical risk-prediction tools – one designed to assist clinicians in predicting alcoholic hepatitis mortality, and another designed to identify inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) patients at high-risk of developing venous thromboembolism (VTE) post-hospitalization. While no prediction model is perfect, these tools can positively impact clinical decision-making and contribute to improved patient outcomes. We also include recommendations on managing IBD in older patients, and report on a study suggesting an increase in late-stage cancer diagnoses in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. AGA’s new clinical guideline on systemic therapy for hepatocellular carcinoma and Clinical Practice Update on non-invasive colorectal cancer screening also are featured. Finally, in this month’s Practice Management Toolbox, Dr. Feuerstein, Dr. Sofia, Dr. Guha, and Dr. Streett offer timely recommendations regarding how to overcome existing barriers to achieve high-value IBD care.

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor in Chief

In this month’s issue of GI & Hepatology News, we celebrate the recently named recipients of this year’s AGA Recognition Prizes, several of whom I am privileged to work with on a daily basis. We also welcome the newest members of AGA’s Governing Board, Maria T. Abreu, MD, AGAF, who is an outstanding leader and representative of a much larger group of volunteer members who work tirelessly to advance AGA’s initiatives to enhance the clinical practice of gastroenterology and improve patient outcomes. The nominating committee also appointed the following slate of councilors, which is subject to membership vote: Kim Barrett, PhD, AGAF; Lawrence Kosinski, MD, MBA, AGAF; and Sheryl Pfeil, MD, AGAF.

This month’s issue also highlights two newly-developed clinical risk-prediction tools – one designed to assist clinicians in predicting alcoholic hepatitis mortality, and another designed to identify inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) patients at high-risk of developing venous thromboembolism (VTE) post-hospitalization. While no prediction model is perfect, these tools can positively impact clinical decision-making and contribute to improved patient outcomes. We also include recommendations on managing IBD in older patients, and report on a study suggesting an increase in late-stage cancer diagnoses in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. AGA’s new clinical guideline on systemic therapy for hepatocellular carcinoma and Clinical Practice Update on non-invasive colorectal cancer screening also are featured. Finally, in this month’s Practice Management Toolbox, Dr. Feuerstein, Dr. Sofia, Dr. Guha, and Dr. Streett offer timely recommendations regarding how to overcome existing barriers to achieve high-value IBD care.

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor in Chief

In this month’s issue of GI & Hepatology News, we celebrate the recently named recipients of this year’s AGA Recognition Prizes, several of whom I am privileged to work with on a daily basis. We also welcome the newest members of AGA’s Governing Board, Maria T. Abreu, MD, AGAF, who is an outstanding leader and representative of a much larger group of volunteer members who work tirelessly to advance AGA’s initiatives to enhance the clinical practice of gastroenterology and improve patient outcomes. The nominating committee also appointed the following slate of councilors, which is subject to membership vote: Kim Barrett, PhD, AGAF; Lawrence Kosinski, MD, MBA, AGAF; and Sheryl Pfeil, MD, AGAF.

This month’s issue also highlights two newly-developed clinical risk-prediction tools – one designed to assist clinicians in predicting alcoholic hepatitis mortality, and another designed to identify inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) patients at high-risk of developing venous thromboembolism (VTE) post-hospitalization. While no prediction model is perfect, these tools can positively impact clinical decision-making and contribute to improved patient outcomes. We also include recommendations on managing IBD in older patients, and report on a study suggesting an increase in late-stage cancer diagnoses in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. AGA’s new clinical guideline on systemic therapy for hepatocellular carcinoma and Clinical Practice Update on non-invasive colorectal cancer screening also are featured. Finally, in this month’s Practice Management Toolbox, Dr. Feuerstein, Dr. Sofia, Dr. Guha, and Dr. Streett offer timely recommendations regarding how to overcome existing barriers to achieve high-value IBD care.

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor in Chief

The United States has never achieved a single high standard of medical care equity for all of its people, and the trend line does not appear favorable. The closest we have reached is basic Medicare (Parts A and B), military medicine, the Veterans Health Administration, and large nonprofit groups like Kaiser Permanente. It seems that the nature of we individualistic Americans is to always try to seek an advantage.

But even achieving equity in medical care would not ensure equity in health. The social determinants of health (income level, education, politics, government, geography, neighborhood, country of origin, language spoken, literacy, gender, and yes – race and ethnicity) have far more influence on health equity than does medical care.

Narratives can both reflect and influence culture. Considering the harmful effects of the current political divisiveness in the United States, the timing is ideal for our three leading medical and health education organizations – the American Medical Association, the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC), and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention – to publish a definitive position paper called “Advancing Health Equity: A Guide to Language, Narrative and Concepts.”
 

What’s in a word?

According to William Shakespeare, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” (Romeo and Juliet). Maybe. But if the word used were “thorn” or “thistle,” it just would not be the same.

Words comprise language and wield enormous power with human beings. Wars are fought over geographic boundaries often defined by the language spoken by the people: think 2022, Russian-speaking Ukrainians. Think Winston Churchill’s massive 1,500-page “A History of the English-Speaking Peoples.” Think about the political power of French in Quebec, Canada.

Thus, it should be no surprise that words, acronyms, and abbreviations become rallying cries for political activists of all stripes: PC, January 6, Woke, 1619, BLM, Critical Race Theory, 1776, Remember Pearl Harbor, Remember the Alamo, the Civil War or the War Between the States, the War for Southern Independence, the War of Northern Aggression, the War of the Rebellion, or simply “The Lost Cause.” How about Realpolitik?

Is “medical language” the language of the people or of the profession? Physicians must understand each other, and physicians also must communicate clearly with patients using words that convey neutral meanings and don’t interfere with objective understanding. Medical editors prefer the brevity of one or a few words to clearly convey meaning.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

The United States has never achieved a single high standard of medical care equity for all of its people, and the trend line does not appear favorable. The closest we have reached is basic Medicare (Parts A and B), military medicine, the Veterans Health Administration, and large nonprofit groups like Kaiser Permanente. It seems that the nature of we individualistic Americans is to always try to seek an advantage.

But even achieving equity in medical care would not ensure equity in health. The social determinants of health (income level, education, politics, government, geography, neighborhood, country of origin, language spoken, literacy, gender, and yes – race and ethnicity) have far more influence on health equity than does medical care.

Narratives can both reflect and influence culture. Considering the harmful effects of the current political divisiveness in the United States, the timing is ideal for our three leading medical and health education organizations – the American Medical Association, the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC), and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention – to publish a definitive position paper called “Advancing Health Equity: A Guide to Language, Narrative and Concepts.”
 

What’s in a word?

According to William Shakespeare, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” (Romeo and Juliet). Maybe. But if the word used were “thorn” or “thistle,” it just would not be the same.

Words comprise language and wield enormous power with human beings. Wars are fought over geographic boundaries often defined by the language spoken by the people: think 2022, Russian-speaking Ukrainians. Think Winston Churchill’s massive 1,500-page “A History of the English-Speaking Peoples.” Think about the political power of French in Quebec, Canada.

Thus, it should be no surprise that words, acronyms, and abbreviations become rallying cries for political activists of all stripes: PC, January 6, Woke, 1619, BLM, Critical Race Theory, 1776, Remember Pearl Harbor, Remember the Alamo, the Civil War or the War Between the States, the War for Southern Independence, the War of Northern Aggression, the War of the Rebellion, or simply “The Lost Cause.” How about Realpolitik?

Is “medical language” the language of the people or of the profession? Physicians must understand each other, and physicians also must communicate clearly with patients using words that convey neutral meanings and don’t interfere with objective understanding. Medical editors prefer the brevity of one or a few words to clearly convey meaning.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

The United States has never achieved a single high standard of medical care equity for all of its people, and the trend line does not appear favorable. The closest we have reached is basic Medicare (Parts A and B), military medicine, the Veterans Health Administration, and large nonprofit groups like Kaiser Permanente. It seems that the nature of we individualistic Americans is to always try to seek an advantage.

But even achieving equity in medical care would not ensure equity in health. The social determinants of health (income level, education, politics, government, geography, neighborhood, country of origin, language spoken, literacy, gender, and yes – race and ethnicity) have far more influence on health equity than does medical care.

Narratives can both reflect and influence culture. Considering the harmful effects of the current political divisiveness in the United States, the timing is ideal for our three leading medical and health education organizations – the American Medical Association, the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC), and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention – to publish a definitive position paper called “Advancing Health Equity: A Guide to Language, Narrative and Concepts.”
 

What’s in a word?

According to William Shakespeare, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” (Romeo and Juliet). Maybe. But if the word used were “thorn” or “thistle,” it just would not be the same.

Words comprise language and wield enormous power with human beings. Wars are fought over geographic boundaries often defined by the language spoken by the people: think 2022, Russian-speaking Ukrainians. Think Winston Churchill’s massive 1,500-page “A History of the English-Speaking Peoples.” Think about the political power of French in Quebec, Canada.

Thus, it should be no surprise that words, acronyms, and abbreviations become rallying cries for political activists of all stripes: PC, January 6, Woke, 1619, BLM, Critical Race Theory, 1776, Remember Pearl Harbor, Remember the Alamo, the Civil War or the War Between the States, the War for Southern Independence, the War of Northern Aggression, the War of the Rebellion, or simply “The Lost Cause.” How about Realpolitik?

Is “medical language” the language of the people or of the profession? Physicians must understand each other, and physicians also must communicate clearly with patients using words that convey neutral meanings and don’t interfere with objective understanding. Medical editors prefer the brevity of one or a few words to clearly convey meaning.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In her month-long memoir, A Really Good Day: How Microdosing Made a Mega Difference in My Mood, My Marriage, and My Life (Knopf, 2017), author Ayelet Waldman turns herself into a one-woman experiment.

Over a single month she takes one-tenth of a recreational dose of LSD every third day. She plots her emotions, her productivity, and her pain along the way. Ms. Waldman obtains the LSD in a single vial, enough for 10 doses, from a researcher, who is retiring. What she’s looking for, she tells the reader, is a really good day – something that has been elusive in her turbulent life.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Dr. Miller has no conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In her month-long memoir, A Really Good Day: How Microdosing Made a Mega Difference in My Mood, My Marriage, and My Life (Knopf, 2017), author Ayelet Waldman turns herself into a one-woman experiment.

Over a single month she takes one-tenth of a recreational dose of LSD every third day. She plots her emotions, her productivity, and her pain along the way. Ms. Waldman obtains the LSD in a single vial, enough for 10 doses, from a researcher, who is retiring. What she’s looking for, she tells the reader, is a really good day – something that has been elusive in her turbulent life.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Dr. Miller has no conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In her month-long memoir, A Really Good Day: How Microdosing Made a Mega Difference in My Mood, My Marriage, and My Life (Knopf, 2017), author Ayelet Waldman turns herself into a one-woman experiment.

Over a single month she takes one-tenth of a recreational dose of LSD every third day. She plots her emotions, her productivity, and her pain along the way. Ms. Waldman obtains the LSD in a single vial, enough for 10 doses, from a researcher, who is retiring. What she’s looking for, she tells the reader, is a really good day – something that has been elusive in her turbulent life.

Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Dr. Miller has no conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Only a small number of pediatric hematologist oncologists and even fewer of our adult counterparts feel comfortable evaluating and treating vascular anomalies. 

While admittedly rare, these conditions are still common enough that clinicians in many disciplines encounter them. Hematologist/oncologists are most likely to see vascular malformations, which often present as mass lesions. Complications of these disorders occur across the hematology-oncology spectrum and include clots, pulmonary emboli, cancer predisposition, and an array of functional and psychosocial disorders. 

Vascular anomalies are broadly categorized as vascular tumors or malformations. The tumors include hemangiomas, locally aggressive lesions, and true cancers. Malformations can be isolated disorders of one or more blood vessel types (veins, arteries, capillaries or lymphatics), or they can be one part of syndromic disorders. Lymphedema also falls under the heading of vascular anomalies. To make the terminology less confusing, in 2018 the International Society for the Study of Vascular Anomalies refined its classification scheme.

Vascular malformations are thought to be congenital. Although some are obvious at birth, others aren’t apparent until adulthood. In most cases, they grow with a child and may do so disproportionately at puberty and with pregnancies. The fact that vascular malformations persist into adulthood is one reason why their care should be integral to medical hematology-oncology. 

Although the cause of a vascular malformation is not always known, a wide range of genetic mutations thought to be pathogenic have been reported. These mutations are usually somatic (only within the involved tissues, not in the blood or germ cells and therefore, not heritable) and tend to cluster in the VEGF-PIK3CA and RAS-MAP signaling pathways. 

These genes and pathways will be familiar to any oncologist who cares for patients with solid tumors, notably breast cancer or melanoma. However, unlike the clonal expansion seen in cancers, most vascular malformations will express pathogenic mutations in less than 20% of vascular endothelium within a malformation. 

Since 2008, medical management has been limited to sirolimus (rapamycin), a mammalian target of rapamycin inhibitor, which can be effective even when mTOR mutations aren’t apparent. In a seminal phase 2 trial of 57 patients with complex vascular anomalies who were aged 0-29 years, 47 patients had a partial response, 3 patients had stable disease, and 7 patients had progressive disease. None had complete responses. These data highlight the need for more effective treatments.

Recently, vascular anomalists have begun to repurpose drugs from adult oncology that specifically target pathogenic mutations. Some studies underway include Novartis’ international Alpelisib (Piqray) clinical trial for adults and children with PIK3CA-related overgrowth syndromes (NCT04589650) and Merck’s follow-up study of the AKT inhibitor miransertib for PROS and Proteus syndrome. Doses tend to be lower than those used to treat cancers. To date, these have been generally well-tolerated, with sometimes striking but preliminary evidence of efficacy. 

During the past 2 years, symposia on vascular anomalies at the annual meeting of the American Society of Hematology have launched what we are hoping is just the start of a broader discussion. In 2020, Fran Blei, MD, chaired Vascular Anomalies 101: Case-Based Discussion on the Diagnosis, Treatment and Lifelong Care of These Patients, and in 2021, Adrienne Hammill, MD, PhD, and Dr. Raj Kasthuri, MBBS, MD, chaired a more specialized symposium: Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia (HHT): A Practical Guide to Management. 

As awareness of vascular anomalies grows and research on effective treatments continues, a new focus on this natural offshoot of hematology and oncology offers adult and pediatric specialists in our field a fertile area for career development.

Dr. Blatt is in the division of pediatric hematology oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Only a small number of pediatric hematologist oncologists and even fewer of our adult counterparts feel comfortable evaluating and treating vascular anomalies. 

While admittedly rare, these conditions are still common enough that clinicians in many disciplines encounter them. Hematologist/oncologists are most likely to see vascular malformations, which often present as mass lesions. Complications of these disorders occur across the hematology-oncology spectrum and include clots, pulmonary emboli, cancer predisposition, and an array of functional and psychosocial disorders. 

Vascular anomalies are broadly categorized as vascular tumors or malformations. The tumors include hemangiomas, locally aggressive lesions, and true cancers. Malformations can be isolated disorders of one or more blood vessel types (veins, arteries, capillaries or lymphatics), or they can be one part of syndromic disorders. Lymphedema also falls under the heading of vascular anomalies. To make the terminology less confusing, in 2018 the International Society for the Study of Vascular Anomalies refined its classification scheme.

Vascular malformations are thought to be congenital. Although some are obvious at birth, others aren’t apparent until adulthood. In most cases, they grow with a child and may do so disproportionately at puberty and with pregnancies. The fact that vascular malformations persist into adulthood is one reason why their care should be integral to medical hematology-oncology. 

Although the cause of a vascular malformation is not always known, a wide range of genetic mutations thought to be pathogenic have been reported. These mutations are usually somatic (only within the involved tissues, not in the blood or germ cells and therefore, not heritable) and tend to cluster in the VEGF-PIK3CA and RAS-MAP signaling pathways. 

These genes and pathways will be familiar to any oncologist who cares for patients with solid tumors, notably breast cancer or melanoma. However, unlike the clonal expansion seen in cancers, most vascular malformations will express pathogenic mutations in less than 20% of vascular endothelium within a malformation. 

Since 2008, medical management has been limited to sirolimus (rapamycin), a mammalian target of rapamycin inhibitor, which can be effective even when mTOR mutations aren’t apparent. In a seminal phase 2 trial of 57 patients with complex vascular anomalies who were aged 0-29 years, 47 patients had a partial response, 3 patients had stable disease, and 7 patients had progressive disease. None had complete responses. These data highlight the need for more effective treatments.

Recently, vascular anomalists have begun to repurpose drugs from adult oncology that specifically target pathogenic mutations. Some studies underway include Novartis’ international Alpelisib (Piqray) clinical trial for adults and children with PIK3CA-related overgrowth syndromes (NCT04589650) and Merck’s follow-up study of the AKT inhibitor miransertib for PROS and Proteus syndrome. Doses tend to be lower than those used to treat cancers. To date, these have been generally well-tolerated, with sometimes striking but preliminary evidence of efficacy. 

During the past 2 years, symposia on vascular anomalies at the annual meeting of the American Society of Hematology have launched what we are hoping is just the start of a broader discussion. In 2020, Fran Blei, MD, chaired Vascular Anomalies 101: Case-Based Discussion on the Diagnosis, Treatment and Lifelong Care of These Patients, and in 2021, Adrienne Hammill, MD, PhD, and Dr. Raj Kasthuri, MBBS, MD, chaired a more specialized symposium: Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia (HHT): A Practical Guide to Management. 

As awareness of vascular anomalies grows and research on effective treatments continues, a new focus on this natural offshoot of hematology and oncology offers adult and pediatric specialists in our field a fertile area for career development.

Dr. Blatt is in the division of pediatric hematology oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

Only a small number of pediatric hematologist oncologists and even fewer of our adult counterparts feel comfortable evaluating and treating vascular anomalies. 

While admittedly rare, these conditions are still common enough that clinicians in many disciplines encounter them. Hematologist/oncologists are most likely to see vascular malformations, which often present as mass lesions. Complications of these disorders occur across the hematology-oncology spectrum and include clots, pulmonary emboli, cancer predisposition, and an array of functional and psychosocial disorders. 

Vascular anomalies are broadly categorized as vascular tumors or malformations. The tumors include hemangiomas, locally aggressive lesions, and true cancers. Malformations can be isolated disorders of one or more blood vessel types (veins, arteries, capillaries or lymphatics), or they can be one part of syndromic disorders. Lymphedema also falls under the heading of vascular anomalies. To make the terminology less confusing, in 2018 the International Society for the Study of Vascular Anomalies refined its classification scheme.

Vascular malformations are thought to be congenital. Although some are obvious at birth, others aren’t apparent until adulthood. In most cases, they grow with a child and may do so disproportionately at puberty and with pregnancies. The fact that vascular malformations persist into adulthood is one reason why their care should be integral to medical hematology-oncology. 

Although the cause of a vascular malformation is not always known, a wide range of genetic mutations thought to be pathogenic have been reported. These mutations are usually somatic (only within the involved tissues, not in the blood or germ cells and therefore, not heritable) and tend to cluster in the VEGF-PIK3CA and RAS-MAP signaling pathways. 

These genes and pathways will be familiar to any oncologist who cares for patients with solid tumors, notably breast cancer or melanoma. However, unlike the clonal expansion seen in cancers, most vascular malformations will express pathogenic mutations in less than 20% of vascular endothelium within a malformation. 

Since 2008, medical management has been limited to sirolimus (rapamycin), a mammalian target of rapamycin inhibitor, which can be effective even when mTOR mutations aren’t apparent. In a seminal phase 2 trial of 57 patients with complex vascular anomalies who were aged 0-29 years, 47 patients had a partial response, 3 patients had stable disease, and 7 patients had progressive disease. None had complete responses. These data highlight the need for more effective treatments.

Recently, vascular anomalists have begun to repurpose drugs from adult oncology that specifically target pathogenic mutations. Some studies underway include Novartis’ international Alpelisib (Piqray) clinical trial for adults and children with PIK3CA-related overgrowth syndromes (NCT04589650) and Merck’s follow-up study of the AKT inhibitor miransertib for PROS and Proteus syndrome. Doses tend to be lower than those used to treat cancers. To date, these have been generally well-tolerated, with sometimes striking but preliminary evidence of efficacy. 

During the past 2 years, symposia on vascular anomalies at the annual meeting of the American Society of Hematology have launched what we are hoping is just the start of a broader discussion. In 2020, Fran Blei, MD, chaired Vascular Anomalies 101: Case-Based Discussion on the Diagnosis, Treatment and Lifelong Care of These Patients, and in 2021, Adrienne Hammill, MD, PhD, and Dr. Raj Kasthuri, MBBS, MD, chaired a more specialized symposium: Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia (HHT): A Practical Guide to Management. 

As awareness of vascular anomalies grows and research on effective treatments continues, a new focus on this natural offshoot of hematology and oncology offers adult and pediatric specialists in our field a fertile area for career development.

Dr. Blatt is in the division of pediatric hematology oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

As they rolled me down the hallway to the OR, ceiling lights rhythmically passing above, I zoned out into a 1,000-mile stare. How did I get here? I started humming “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” praying for a miracle to happen. I thought back to my birth plan, meticulously crafted, a one-pager so that the no-nonsense labor and delivery nurses wouldn›t think me completely off my rocker. No C-section unless medically necessary. Those words laughed back at me – cackling, even. I’d planned out the whole birthing process and here we were, my team almost jogging me to the OR. I lay still, utterly gobsmacked and partially anesthetized.

If I squint my eyes and hallucinate just a bit, that is sort of what motherhood has been like.

It’s about knowing all the things that could go wrong and meeting the unplanned head-on. Motherhood has indeed been a whirlwind – so many physical, psychological, and emotional transformations. And to top it off, the added effort of giving birth in a pandemic. As an over-40 physician, you’d think I would have been better prepared.

I was, but in a sense, I was not. The knowledge, the wisdom, the experience of my medical training surrounded me, but even I panicked at times in the beginning: Am I feeding her correctly? Am I making enough food for her? Am I doing the best that I can for her? What more could I be doing for her?

Over time, I’ve learned to lighten up. Some. In those teachable moments with my daughter Gia, I’ve learned to not sugarcoat reality but encourage the hopeful. If Gia falls on the ground? “You’re okay, sweetie. Now get back up.” If Gia has a tantrum and starts hitting herself? “Honey, our hands are for hugs, not hurting ourselves. Let’s go play.” Eighty percent of motherhood right now is redirection and the other 20% is patience.

I remember this one time I was rushing out the door for work. After getting in the car with my keys, I realized I forgot my coffee back in the house. I left the car, went back in the house to grab the blessed joe, went back to the car, and couldn’t get in because it was locked. I panicked at that moment, went back inside the house, and found Gia playing with my extra key fob. My own daughter locked me out of my car. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. Deep breath and I offered her another kiss while simultaneously taking the key fob from her.

Before Gia could walk, she could climb the stairs in our home. Her father and I sometimes refer to her as “Lil Bamm-Bamm” because she is so strong. One day, Daddy was supposed to be watching her while Mommy was folding laundry upstairs. She was not allowed on the stairs, but what should I hear? Literally, the pitter-patter of little feet, running down the upstairs hallway. Her father had drifted off watching yet another episode of something Star Wars–related. My strong little girl made it up the stairs all by herself and Dad received a strong word. The Force was with me that day.

I would say that I feel like having a child ages you, but what does that really mean when you’re already old? I’ve become acutely aware of my lack of endurance, stamina, and bodily strength. My knees will creak when taking her upstairs to bed, an osseous dirge of a lullaby. Date nights become unintentionally less and less frequent. Friday night dress-up becomes Friday night dress-down. I’ve replaced stiletto heels with comfy sweats.

Once we put Gia down for the night, we are usually exhausted from the day, and the couch and TV are welcome respites. We exhale. As over-40 parents, we knew that having children late in life would bring its challenges. But I’d like to think that we are meeting them the best way that we can. Often I encourage my body to meet Gia at her eye level, see what she sees, play with her on her own terms, and match her energy. She absolutely loves it when I do this. I’m out of breath and my knees are sore by the end of our play session, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We are learning from each other. She has a bright and assertive personality, and I am protective of that innocence. Her innocence is without fear. I often wonder what she is thinking when I see her facial expressions. A side-eye, a fleeting giggle. Is she secretly contemplating the chronicity of the cosmos, or is it just gas? I look at her in stolen moments and still can’t believe that I grew a human inside me, and said human was extracted from me and is now walking around my house commanding her bidding. So surreal. The unromanticized, scientific ingredients that are at play from conception to delivery are nothing short of miraculous. And the miracles of parenting over 40 are present every day.

Dr. Tolliver is a family medicine physician at The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center in Columbus. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

As they rolled me down the hallway to the OR, ceiling lights rhythmically passing above, I zoned out into a 1,000-mile stare. How did I get here? I started humming “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” praying for a miracle to happen. I thought back to my birth plan, meticulously crafted, a one-pager so that the no-nonsense labor and delivery nurses wouldn›t think me completely off my rocker. No C-section unless medically necessary. Those words laughed back at me – cackling, even. I’d planned out the whole birthing process and here we were, my team almost jogging me to the OR. I lay still, utterly gobsmacked and partially anesthetized.

If I squint my eyes and hallucinate just a bit, that is sort of what motherhood has been like.

It’s about knowing all the things that could go wrong and meeting the unplanned head-on. Motherhood has indeed been a whirlwind – so many physical, psychological, and emotional transformations. And to top it off, the added effort of giving birth in a pandemic. As an over-40 physician, you’d think I would have been better prepared.

I was, but in a sense, I was not. The knowledge, the wisdom, the experience of my medical training surrounded me, but even I panicked at times in the beginning: Am I feeding her correctly? Am I making enough food for her? Am I doing the best that I can for her? What more could I be doing for her?

Over time, I’ve learned to lighten up. Some. In those teachable moments with my daughter Gia, I’ve learned to not sugarcoat reality but encourage the hopeful. If Gia falls on the ground? “You’re okay, sweetie. Now get back up.” If Gia has a tantrum and starts hitting herself? “Honey, our hands are for hugs, not hurting ourselves. Let’s go play.” Eighty percent of motherhood right now is redirection and the other 20% is patience.

I remember this one time I was rushing out the door for work. After getting in the car with my keys, I realized I forgot my coffee back in the house. I left the car, went back in the house to grab the blessed joe, went back to the car, and couldn’t get in because it was locked. I panicked at that moment, went back inside the house, and found Gia playing with my extra key fob. My own daughter locked me out of my car. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. Deep breath and I offered her another kiss while simultaneously taking the key fob from her.

Before Gia could walk, she could climb the stairs in our home. Her father and I sometimes refer to her as “Lil Bamm-Bamm” because she is so strong. One day, Daddy was supposed to be watching her while Mommy was folding laundry upstairs. She was not allowed on the stairs, but what should I hear? Literally, the pitter-patter of little feet, running down the upstairs hallway. Her father had drifted off watching yet another episode of something Star Wars–related. My strong little girl made it up the stairs all by herself and Dad received a strong word. The Force was with me that day.

I would say that I feel like having a child ages you, but what does that really mean when you’re already old? I’ve become acutely aware of my lack of endurance, stamina, and bodily strength. My knees will creak when taking her upstairs to bed, an osseous dirge of a lullaby. Date nights become unintentionally less and less frequent. Friday night dress-up becomes Friday night dress-down. I’ve replaced stiletto heels with comfy sweats.

Once we put Gia down for the night, we are usually exhausted from the day, and the couch and TV are welcome respites. We exhale. As over-40 parents, we knew that having children late in life would bring its challenges. But I’d like to think that we are meeting them the best way that we can. Often I encourage my body to meet Gia at her eye level, see what she sees, play with her on her own terms, and match her energy. She absolutely loves it when I do this. I’m out of breath and my knees are sore by the end of our play session, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We are learning from each other. She has a bright and assertive personality, and I am protective of that innocence. Her innocence is without fear. I often wonder what she is thinking when I see her facial expressions. A side-eye, a fleeting giggle. Is she secretly contemplating the chronicity of the cosmos, or is it just gas? I look at her in stolen moments and still can’t believe that I grew a human inside me, and said human was extracted from me and is now walking around my house commanding her bidding. So surreal. The unromanticized, scientific ingredients that are at play from conception to delivery are nothing short of miraculous. And the miracles of parenting over 40 are present every day.

Dr. Tolliver is a family medicine physician at The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center in Columbus. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

As they rolled me down the hallway to the OR, ceiling lights rhythmically passing above, I zoned out into a 1,000-mile stare. How did I get here? I started humming “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” praying for a miracle to happen. I thought back to my birth plan, meticulously crafted, a one-pager so that the no-nonsense labor and delivery nurses wouldn›t think me completely off my rocker. No C-section unless medically necessary. Those words laughed back at me – cackling, even. I’d planned out the whole birthing process and here we were, my team almost jogging me to the OR. I lay still, utterly gobsmacked and partially anesthetized.

If I squint my eyes and hallucinate just a bit, that is sort of what motherhood has been like.

It’s about knowing all the things that could go wrong and meeting the unplanned head-on. Motherhood has indeed been a whirlwind – so many physical, psychological, and emotional transformations. And to top it off, the added effort of giving birth in a pandemic. As an over-40 physician, you’d think I would have been better prepared.

I was, but in a sense, I was not. The knowledge, the wisdom, the experience of my medical training surrounded me, but even I panicked at times in the beginning: Am I feeding her correctly? Am I making enough food for her? Am I doing the best that I can for her? What more could I be doing for her?

Over time, I’ve learned to lighten up. Some. In those teachable moments with my daughter Gia, I’ve learned to not sugarcoat reality but encourage the hopeful. If Gia falls on the ground? “You’re okay, sweetie. Now get back up.” If Gia has a tantrum and starts hitting herself? “Honey, our hands are for hugs, not hurting ourselves. Let’s go play.” Eighty percent of motherhood right now is redirection and the other 20% is patience.

I remember this one time I was rushing out the door for work. After getting in the car with my keys, I realized I forgot my coffee back in the house. I left the car, went back in the house to grab the blessed joe, went back to the car, and couldn’t get in because it was locked. I panicked at that moment, went back inside the house, and found Gia playing with my extra key fob. My own daughter locked me out of my car. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. Deep breath and I offered her another kiss while simultaneously taking the key fob from her.

Before Gia could walk, she could climb the stairs in our home. Her father and I sometimes refer to her as “Lil Bamm-Bamm” because she is so strong. One day, Daddy was supposed to be watching her while Mommy was folding laundry upstairs. She was not allowed on the stairs, but what should I hear? Literally, the pitter-patter of little feet, running down the upstairs hallway. Her father had drifted off watching yet another episode of something Star Wars–related. My strong little girl made it up the stairs all by herself and Dad received a strong word. The Force was with me that day.

I would say that I feel like having a child ages you, but what does that really mean when you’re already old? I’ve become acutely aware of my lack of endurance, stamina, and bodily strength. My knees will creak when taking her upstairs to bed, an osseous dirge of a lullaby. Date nights become unintentionally less and less frequent. Friday night dress-up becomes Friday night dress-down. I’ve replaced stiletto heels with comfy sweats.

Once we put Gia down for the night, we are usually exhausted from the day, and the couch and TV are welcome respites. We exhale. As over-40 parents, we knew that having children late in life would bring its challenges. But I’d like to think that we are meeting them the best way that we can. Often I encourage my body to meet Gia at her eye level, see what she sees, play with her on her own terms, and match her energy. She absolutely loves it when I do this. I’m out of breath and my knees are sore by the end of our play session, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We are learning from each other. She has a bright and assertive personality, and I am protective of that innocence. Her innocence is without fear. I often wonder what she is thinking when I see her facial expressions. A side-eye, a fleeting giggle. Is she secretly contemplating the chronicity of the cosmos, or is it just gas? I look at her in stolen moments and still can’t believe that I grew a human inside me, and said human was extracted from me and is now walking around my house commanding her bidding. So surreal. The unromanticized, scientific ingredients that are at play from conception to delivery are nothing short of miraculous. And the miracles of parenting over 40 are present every day.

Dr. Tolliver is a family medicine physician at The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center in Columbus. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Since it appeared in the first edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Principles of Medical Ethics in 1973, the “Goldwater rule” – often referred to in terms of where in the APA’s guideline it can be found, Section 7.3 – has placed a stringent prohibition on psychiatrists offering professional opinions about public figures “unless he or she has conducted an examination and has been granted proper authorization for such a statement.”¹

Some psychiatrists experienced the restrictive nature of Section 7.3 more acutely perhaps than ever during the Trump presidency. This spurred numerous articles criticizing the guideline as an outdated “gag rule”² that harms the public image of psychiatry.³ Some psychiatrists violated the rule to warn the public of the dangers of a president with “incipient dementia”⁴ occupying the most powerful position on earth.

Following President Trump’s exit from the White House, the alarm bells surrounding his presidency have quieted. Criticisms of the Goldwater rule, on the other hand, have persisted. Many of these criticisms now call for the rule to be refined, allowing for psychiatrists to give their professional opinions about public figures, but with certain guidelines on how to do so.⁵ Few have yet to make a sober case for the outright abolition of Section 7.3.⁶

Self-regulating and internal policing are important factors in the continued independence of the medical profession, and we should continue to hold each other to high professional standards. That being said, do psychiatrists need training wheels to prevent us from devolving into unprofessional social commentators? Other medical specialties do not see the need to implement a rule preventing their colleagues from expressing expertise in fear of embarrassment. Do we not have faith in our ability to conduct ourselves professionally? Is the Goldwater rule an admission of a juvenile lack of self-control within our field?

Not only do other medical specialties not forcibly handhold their members in public settings, but other “providers” in the realm of mental health likewise do not implement such strict self-restraints. Psychiatry staying silent on the matter of public figures leaves a void filled by other, arguably less qualified, individuals. Subsequently, the public discord risks being flooded with pseudoscientific pontification and distorted views of psychiatric illness. The cycle of speculating on the mental fitness of the president has outlived President Trump, with concerns about Joe Biden’s incoherence and waning cognition.⁷ Therein is an important argument to be made for the public duty of psychiatrists, with their greater expertise and clinical acumen, to weigh in on matters of societal importance in an attempt to dispel dangerous misconceptions.

Practical limitations are often raised and serve as the cornerstone for the Goldwater rule. Specifically, the limitation being that a psychiatrist cannot provide a professional opinion about an individual without a proper in-person evaluation. The psychiatric interview could be considered the most in-depth and comprehensive evaluation in all of medicine. Even so, is a trained psychiatrist presented with grandiosity, flight-of-ideas, and pressured speech unable to comment on the possibility of mania without a lengthy and comprehensive evaluation? How much disorganization of behavior and dialogue does one need to observe to recognize psychosis? For the experienced psychiatrist, many of these behavioral hallmarks are akin to an ST elevation on an EKG representing a heart attack.

When considering less extreme examples of mental affliction, such as depression and anxiety, many signs – including demeanor, motor activity, manner of speaking, and other aspects of behavior – are apparent to the perceptive psychiatrist without needing an extensive interview that dives into the depths of a person’s social history and childhood. After all, our own criteria for depression and mania do not require the presence of social stressors or childhood trauma. Even personality disorders can be reasonably postulated when a person behaves in a particular fashion. The recognition of transitional objects, items used to provide psychological comfort, including the “teddy bear sign” are common and scientifically studied methods to recognize personality disorder.⁸

The necessity for an in-person evaluation has become less compelling over the years. In our modern age, important social moments are memorialized in countless videos that are arguably more relevant, more accurate, and less subjective than a psychiatric interview. Furthermore, forensic psychiatrists routinely comment on individuals they have not examined for a variety of reasons, from postmortem analysis to the refusal of the client to be interviewed. Moreover, and with significant contradiction, many leaders in the field of psychiatry view integrated care, the practice of psychiatrists advising primary care doctors, often without even seeing patients, to be the future of psychiatry.⁹

Some reading this may scoff at the above examples. Perhaps Section 7.3 speaks to an underlying insecurity in our field regarding our ability to accurately diagnose. That insecurity is not unfounded. In terms of the DSM-5, the bar for reliability has been lowered to a kappa of 0.2-0.4, from a previous standard of 0.6, in an attempt to avoid critiques of unreliability.¹⁰ Yet herein lies a powerful recognition of the necessity of the Goldwater rule. If psychiatrists cannot reliably agree on the presence of diagnoses in the controlled setting of scientific study, how can we expect to speak with coherence and consistency on highly mediatized and provoking topics?

The defense – that the difficulty psychiatrists have at providing an accurate diagnosis stems from the immense complexity of the system being evaluated, the human mind – is a valid one. Attempts to force such complex pathology, with all its many variables, into the check-box approach implemented in the DSM inevitably leads to problems with diagnostic reliability. Still, as psychiatrists we retain a level of expertise in assessing and treating complex disorders of the mind that no other field can claim.

The duty physicians have not only to work toward the health of their individual patients, but also to act in service of the public health and well-being of communities in which our patients live, is well established. How ethical is it then for psychiatry to absolve itself from duty when it comes to public figures at the center of shaping public opinion? There are numerous recent, high-profile instances where our expertise may have helped shine light in an otherwise murky public discussion filled with disinformation. The death of George Floyd and the year of turmoil that followed is a salient example. The conservatorship of Britney Spears and the resulting societal outcry is another. Even setting the matter of diagnosis aside, we can help illuminate the societal implications of conservatorship laws,¹¹ in addition to providing input on how to safely and responsibly approach an individual who is in crisis, under the influence of multiple illicit substances, and possibly suffering from excited delirium.

Whether psychiatry has progressed enough as a medical specialty to trust ourselves with the option of providing professional opinions on public figures is an ongoing debate. The persistence of the Goldwater rule is a strong testament to the internal lack of confidence among psychiatrists regarding our ability to provide accurate diagnoses, act with integrity in the public space, and foster a positive public image. That lack of confidence may be well deserved. However, it is possible that our field will never go through the necessary pains of maturing as long as Section 7.3 remains in place.
 

Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research. Dr. Compton has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. He has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. American Psychiatric Association. The principles of medical ethics with annotations especially applicable to psychiatry. Section 7. American Psychiatric Association; 2013 edition.

2. Glass LL. The Goldwater rule is broken. Here’s how to fix it. STAT News. 2018 June 18.

3. Plymyer D. The Goldwater rule paradox. 2020 Aug 7.

4. Lieberman JA. Trump’s brain and the 25th Amendment. Vice. 2017 Sep 8.

5. Blotcky AD et al. The Goldwater rule is fine, if refined. Here’s how to do it. Psychiatric Times. 2022 Jan 6;39(1).

6. Blotcky AD and Norrholm SD. After Trump, end the Goldwater rule once and for all. New York Daily News. 2020 Dec 22.

7. Stephens B. Biden should not run again – And he should say he won’t. New York Times. 2021 Dec 14.

8. Schmaling KB et al. The positive teddy bear sign: Transitional objects in the medical setting. J Nerv Ment Dis. 1994 Dec;182(12):725.

9. Badre N et al. Psychopharmacologic management in integrated care: Challenges for residency education. Acad Psychiatry. 2015; 39(4):466-9.

10. Kraemer HC et al. DSM-5: How reliable is reliable enough? Am J Psychiatry. 2012 Jan;169(1):13-5.

11. Badre N and Compton C. Britney Spears – Reflections on conservatorship. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2021 Nov 16.

Since it appeared in the first edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Principles of Medical Ethics in 1973, the “Goldwater rule” – often referred to in terms of where in the APA’s guideline it can be found, Section 7.3 – has placed a stringent prohibition on psychiatrists offering professional opinions about public figures “unless he or she has conducted an examination and has been granted proper authorization for such a statement.”¹

Some psychiatrists experienced the restrictive nature of Section 7.3 more acutely perhaps than ever during the Trump presidency. This spurred numerous articles criticizing the guideline as an outdated “gag rule”² that harms the public image of psychiatry.³ Some psychiatrists violated the rule to warn the public of the dangers of a president with “incipient dementia”⁴ occupying the most powerful position on earth.

Following President Trump’s exit from the White House, the alarm bells surrounding his presidency have quieted. Criticisms of the Goldwater rule, on the other hand, have persisted. Many of these criticisms now call for the rule to be refined, allowing for psychiatrists to give their professional opinions about public figures, but with certain guidelines on how to do so.⁵ Few have yet to make a sober case for the outright abolition of Section 7.3.⁶

Self-regulating and internal policing are important factors in the continued independence of the medical profession, and we should continue to hold each other to high professional standards. That being said, do psychiatrists need training wheels to prevent us from devolving into unprofessional social commentators? Other medical specialties do not see the need to implement a rule preventing their colleagues from expressing expertise in fear of embarrassment. Do we not have faith in our ability to conduct ourselves professionally? Is the Goldwater rule an admission of a juvenile lack of self-control within our field?

Not only do other medical specialties not forcibly handhold their members in public settings, but other “providers” in the realm of mental health likewise do not implement such strict self-restraints. Psychiatry staying silent on the matter of public figures leaves a void filled by other, arguably less qualified, individuals. Subsequently, the public discord risks being flooded with pseudoscientific pontification and distorted views of psychiatric illness. The cycle of speculating on the mental fitness of the president has outlived President Trump, with concerns about Joe Biden’s incoherence and waning cognition.⁷ Therein is an important argument to be made for the public duty of psychiatrists, with their greater expertise and clinical acumen, to weigh in on matters of societal importance in an attempt to dispel dangerous misconceptions.

Practical limitations are often raised and serve as the cornerstone for the Goldwater rule. Specifically, the limitation being that a psychiatrist cannot provide a professional opinion about an individual without a proper in-person evaluation. The psychiatric interview could be considered the most in-depth and comprehensive evaluation in all of medicine. Even so, is a trained psychiatrist presented with grandiosity, flight-of-ideas, and pressured speech unable to comment on the possibility of mania without a lengthy and comprehensive evaluation? How much disorganization of behavior and dialogue does one need to observe to recognize psychosis? For the experienced psychiatrist, many of these behavioral hallmarks are akin to an ST elevation on an EKG representing a heart attack.

When considering less extreme examples of mental affliction, such as depression and anxiety, many signs – including demeanor, motor activity, manner of speaking, and other aspects of behavior – are apparent to the perceptive psychiatrist without needing an extensive interview that dives into the depths of a person’s social history and childhood. After all, our own criteria for depression and mania do not require the presence of social stressors or childhood trauma. Even personality disorders can be reasonably postulated when a person behaves in a particular fashion. The recognition of transitional objects, items used to provide psychological comfort, including the “teddy bear sign” are common and scientifically studied methods to recognize personality disorder.⁸

The necessity for an in-person evaluation has become less compelling over the years. In our modern age, important social moments are memorialized in countless videos that are arguably more relevant, more accurate, and less subjective than a psychiatric interview. Furthermore, forensic psychiatrists routinely comment on individuals they have not examined for a variety of reasons, from postmortem analysis to the refusal of the client to be interviewed. Moreover, and with significant contradiction, many leaders in the field of psychiatry view integrated care, the practice of psychiatrists advising primary care doctors, often without even seeing patients, to be the future of psychiatry.⁹

Some reading this may scoff at the above examples. Perhaps Section 7.3 speaks to an underlying insecurity in our field regarding our ability to accurately diagnose. That insecurity is not unfounded. In terms of the DSM-5, the bar for reliability has been lowered to a kappa of 0.2-0.4, from a previous standard of 0.6, in an attempt to avoid critiques of unreliability.¹⁰ Yet herein lies a powerful recognition of the necessity of the Goldwater rule. If psychiatrists cannot reliably agree on the presence of diagnoses in the controlled setting of scientific study, how can we expect to speak with coherence and consistency on highly mediatized and provoking topics?

The defense – that the difficulty psychiatrists have at providing an accurate diagnosis stems from the immense complexity of the system being evaluated, the human mind – is a valid one. Attempts to force such complex pathology, with all its many variables, into the check-box approach implemented in the DSM inevitably leads to problems with diagnostic reliability. Still, as psychiatrists we retain a level of expertise in assessing and treating complex disorders of the mind that no other field can claim.

The duty physicians have not only to work toward the health of their individual patients, but also to act in service of the public health and well-being of communities in which our patients live, is well established. How ethical is it then for psychiatry to absolve itself from duty when it comes to public figures at the center of shaping public opinion? There are numerous recent, high-profile instances where our expertise may have helped shine light in an otherwise murky public discussion filled with disinformation. The death of George Floyd and the year of turmoil that followed is a salient example. The conservatorship of Britney Spears and the resulting societal outcry is another. Even setting the matter of diagnosis aside, we can help illuminate the societal implications of conservatorship laws,¹¹ in addition to providing input on how to safely and responsibly approach an individual who is in crisis, under the influence of multiple illicit substances, and possibly suffering from excited delirium.

Whether psychiatry has progressed enough as a medical specialty to trust ourselves with the option of providing professional opinions on public figures is an ongoing debate. The persistence of the Goldwater rule is a strong testament to the internal lack of confidence among psychiatrists regarding our ability to provide accurate diagnoses, act with integrity in the public space, and foster a positive public image. That lack of confidence may be well deserved. However, it is possible that our field will never go through the necessary pains of maturing as long as Section 7.3 remains in place.
 

Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research. Dr. Compton has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. He has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. American Psychiatric Association. The principles of medical ethics with annotations especially applicable to psychiatry. Section 7. American Psychiatric Association; 2013 edition.

2. Glass LL. The Goldwater rule is broken. Here’s how to fix it. STAT News. 2018 June 18.

3. Plymyer D. The Goldwater rule paradox. 2020 Aug 7.

4. Lieberman JA. Trump’s brain and the 25th Amendment. Vice. 2017 Sep 8.

5. Blotcky AD et al. The Goldwater rule is fine, if refined. Here’s how to do it. Psychiatric Times. 2022 Jan 6;39(1).

6. Blotcky AD and Norrholm SD. After Trump, end the Goldwater rule once and for all. New York Daily News. 2020 Dec 22.

7. Stephens B. Biden should not run again – And he should say he won’t. New York Times. 2021 Dec 14.

8. Schmaling KB et al. The positive teddy bear sign: Transitional objects in the medical setting. J Nerv Ment Dis. 1994 Dec;182(12):725.

9. Badre N et al. Psychopharmacologic management in integrated care: Challenges for residency education. Acad Psychiatry. 2015; 39(4):466-9.

10. Kraemer HC et al. DSM-5: How reliable is reliable enough? Am J Psychiatry. 2012 Jan;169(1):13-5.

11. Badre N and Compton C. Britney Spears – Reflections on conservatorship. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2021 Nov 16.

Since it appeared in the first edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Principles of Medical Ethics in 1973, the “Goldwater rule” – often referred to in terms of where in the APA’s guideline it can be found, Section 7.3 – has placed a stringent prohibition on psychiatrists offering professional opinions about public figures “unless he or she has conducted an examination and has been granted proper authorization for such a statement.”¹

Some psychiatrists experienced the restrictive nature of Section 7.3 more acutely perhaps than ever during the Trump presidency. This spurred numerous articles criticizing the guideline as an outdated “gag rule”² that harms the public image of psychiatry.³ Some psychiatrists violated the rule to warn the public of the dangers of a president with “incipient dementia”⁴ occupying the most powerful position on earth.

Following President Trump’s exit from the White House, the alarm bells surrounding his presidency have quieted. Criticisms of the Goldwater rule, on the other hand, have persisted. Many of these criticisms now call for the rule to be refined, allowing for psychiatrists to give their professional opinions about public figures, but with certain guidelines on how to do so.⁵ Few have yet to make a sober case for the outright abolition of Section 7.3.⁶

Self-regulating and internal policing are important factors in the continued independence of the medical profession, and we should continue to hold each other to high professional standards. That being said, do psychiatrists need training wheels to prevent us from devolving into unprofessional social commentators? Other medical specialties do not see the need to implement a rule preventing their colleagues from expressing expertise in fear of embarrassment. Do we not have faith in our ability to conduct ourselves professionally? Is the Goldwater rule an admission of a juvenile lack of self-control within our field?

Not only do other medical specialties not forcibly handhold their members in public settings, but other “providers” in the realm of mental health likewise do not implement such strict self-restraints. Psychiatry staying silent on the matter of public figures leaves a void filled by other, arguably less qualified, individuals. Subsequently, the public discord risks being flooded with pseudoscientific pontification and distorted views of psychiatric illness. The cycle of speculating on the mental fitness of the president has outlived President Trump, with concerns about Joe Biden’s incoherence and waning cognition.⁷ Therein is an important argument to be made for the public duty of psychiatrists, with their greater expertise and clinical acumen, to weigh in on matters of societal importance in an attempt to dispel dangerous misconceptions.

Practical limitations are often raised and serve as the cornerstone for the Goldwater rule. Specifically, the limitation being that a psychiatrist cannot provide a professional opinion about an individual without a proper in-person evaluation. The psychiatric interview could be considered the most in-depth and comprehensive evaluation in all of medicine. Even so, is a trained psychiatrist presented with grandiosity, flight-of-ideas, and pressured speech unable to comment on the possibility of mania without a lengthy and comprehensive evaluation? How much disorganization of behavior and dialogue does one need to observe to recognize psychosis? For the experienced psychiatrist, many of these behavioral hallmarks are akin to an ST elevation on an EKG representing a heart attack.

When considering less extreme examples of mental affliction, such as depression and anxiety, many signs – including demeanor, motor activity, manner of speaking, and other aspects of behavior – are apparent to the perceptive psychiatrist without needing an extensive interview that dives into the depths of a person’s social history and childhood. After all, our own criteria for depression and mania do not require the presence of social stressors or childhood trauma. Even personality disorders can be reasonably postulated when a person behaves in a particular fashion. The recognition of transitional objects, items used to provide psychological comfort, including the “teddy bear sign” are common and scientifically studied methods to recognize personality disorder.⁸

The necessity for an in-person evaluation has become less compelling over the years. In our modern age, important social moments are memorialized in countless videos that are arguably more relevant, more accurate, and less subjective than a psychiatric interview. Furthermore, forensic psychiatrists routinely comment on individuals they have not examined for a variety of reasons, from postmortem analysis to the refusal of the client to be interviewed. Moreover, and with significant contradiction, many leaders in the field of psychiatry view integrated care, the practice of psychiatrists advising primary care doctors, often without even seeing patients, to be the future of psychiatry.⁹

Some reading this may scoff at the above examples. Perhaps Section 7.3 speaks to an underlying insecurity in our field regarding our ability to accurately diagnose. That insecurity is not unfounded. In terms of the DSM-5, the bar for reliability has been lowered to a kappa of 0.2-0.4, from a previous standard of 0.6, in an attempt to avoid critiques of unreliability.¹⁰ Yet herein lies a powerful recognition of the necessity of the Goldwater rule. If psychiatrists cannot reliably agree on the presence of diagnoses in the controlled setting of scientific study, how can we expect to speak with coherence and consistency on highly mediatized and provoking topics?

The defense – that the difficulty psychiatrists have at providing an accurate diagnosis stems from the immense complexity of the system being evaluated, the human mind – is a valid one. Attempts to force such complex pathology, with all its many variables, into the check-box approach implemented in the DSM inevitably leads to problems with diagnostic reliability. Still, as psychiatrists we retain a level of expertise in assessing and treating complex disorders of the mind that no other field can claim.

The duty physicians have not only to work toward the health of their individual patients, but also to act in service of the public health and well-being of communities in which our patients live, is well established. How ethical is it then for psychiatry to absolve itself from duty when it comes to public figures at the center of shaping public opinion? There are numerous recent, high-profile instances where our expertise may have helped shine light in an otherwise murky public discussion filled with disinformation. The death of George Floyd and the year of turmoil that followed is a salient example. The conservatorship of Britney Spears and the resulting societal outcry is another. Even setting the matter of diagnosis aside, we can help illuminate the societal implications of conservatorship laws,¹¹ in addition to providing input on how to safely and responsibly approach an individual who is in crisis, under the influence of multiple illicit substances, and possibly suffering from excited delirium.

Whether psychiatry has progressed enough as a medical specialty to trust ourselves with the option of providing professional opinions on public figures is an ongoing debate. The persistence of the Goldwater rule is a strong testament to the internal lack of confidence among psychiatrists regarding our ability to provide accurate diagnoses, act with integrity in the public space, and foster a positive public image. That lack of confidence may be well deserved. However, it is possible that our field will never go through the necessary pains of maturing as long as Section 7.3 remains in place.
 

Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research. Dr. Compton has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. He has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. American Psychiatric Association. The principles of medical ethics with annotations especially applicable to psychiatry. Section 7. American Psychiatric Association; 2013 edition.

2. Glass LL. The Goldwater rule is broken. Here’s how to fix it. STAT News. 2018 June 18.

3. Plymyer D. The Goldwater rule paradox. 2020 Aug 7.

4. Lieberman JA. Trump’s brain and the 25th Amendment. Vice. 2017 Sep 8.

5. Blotcky AD et al. The Goldwater rule is fine, if refined. Here’s how to do it. Psychiatric Times. 2022 Jan 6;39(1).

6. Blotcky AD and Norrholm SD. After Trump, end the Goldwater rule once and for all. New York Daily News. 2020 Dec 22.

7. Stephens B. Biden should not run again – And he should say he won’t. New York Times. 2021 Dec 14.

8. Schmaling KB et al. The positive teddy bear sign: Transitional objects in the medical setting. J Nerv Ment Dis. 1994 Dec;182(12):725.

9. Badre N et al. Psychopharmacologic management in integrated care: Challenges for residency education. Acad Psychiatry. 2015; 39(4):466-9.

10. Kraemer HC et al. DSM-5: How reliable is reliable enough? Am J Psychiatry. 2012 Jan;169(1):13-5.

11. Badre N and Compton C. Britney Spears – Reflections on conservatorship. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2021 Nov 16.

Thank Goodness it’s Monday? Sincerely yours, #hustle. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has given us the opportunity to reevaluate what we believe is important and valuable in our life. For some, it’s the opportunity to perform meaningful work; for others, it’s increased financial compensation; and, for the remaining, it may be autonomy (e.g., control over their time). One example of where this mindset has manifested has been in the Great Resignation. 

The Great Resignation refers to the significant increase in resignations that was recorded in April 2021. Resignation rates tend to be higher in fields with high turnover rates (e.g., health care, tech) as a result of increased demand and burnout. Although hustle culture has been an ongoing trend for the last few years, the pandemic has given somewhat of a reality check of the future. 

Hustle culture refers to the embracing of work as a lifestyle such that it takes over other important aspects of your life – in other words, when work-life balance becomes work-work (im)balance. It has also been aptly referred to as burnout culture or grind culture. It’s a bit ironic or counterintuitive to think that stopping work means increased productivity – but it’s true. 

During my undergraduate years, I was always hustling – there wasn’t a moment where I wasn’t studying, doing research, training for my sport, or thinking about how I could do better and be better. It was all about working 24/7 – an illusion to think I was being productive. Now don’t get me wrong, I think the time and effort I invested during those years paid off. However, it also resulted in a sense of dissatisfaction; that is, dissatisfaction that I didn’t explore other potential paths, that I didn’t have the courage to try new things and to be okay with making mistakes. I had extremely narrow tunnel vision because my one and only goal was to go to medical school. 

However, after entering graduate school and actually taking the time to explore other options and career pathways in health, as well as realize that nontraditional pathways are becoming more and more conventional, there is a sense of relief that “failure” is not about changing paths or making mistakes. 

The part of hustle culture that has me hung up is being able to take the time to reflect whether this is what you truly want. I still believe in the value of hard work but I also believe in the value of meaningful and efficient work while also taking the time to reflect. 

The pandemic has shaped a lot of the way we think, what we value, and how we proceed forward. Who we are and what we value is a continuing and ever-growing process, and how we choose to live our lives will play a part. 

I’m curious to hear from you, do you believe in #hustle? Are you part of the #grind culture? Or do you believe we can achieve success, greatness, and satisfaction without the hustle culture?
 

Ms. Lui is an MSc candidate at the University of Toronto, and is with the Mood Disorders Psychopharmacology Unit, Toronto Western Hospital. She has received income from Braxia Scientific. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Thank Goodness it’s Monday? Sincerely yours, #hustle. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has given us the opportunity to reevaluate what we believe is important and valuable in our life. For some, it’s the opportunity to perform meaningful work; for others, it’s increased financial compensation; and, for the remaining, it may be autonomy (e.g., control over their time). One example of where this mindset has manifested has been in the Great Resignation. 

The Great Resignation refers to the significant increase in resignations that was recorded in April 2021. Resignation rates tend to be higher in fields with high turnover rates (e.g., health care, tech) as a result of increased demand and burnout. Although hustle culture has been an ongoing trend for the last few years, the pandemic has given somewhat of a reality check of the future. 

Hustle culture refers to the embracing of work as a lifestyle such that it takes over other important aspects of your life – in other words, when work-life balance becomes work-work (im)balance. It has also been aptly referred to as burnout culture or grind culture. It’s a bit ironic or counterintuitive to think that stopping work means increased productivity – but it’s true. 

During my undergraduate years, I was always hustling – there wasn’t a moment where I wasn’t studying, doing research, training for my sport, or thinking about how I could do better and be better. It was all about working 24/7 – an illusion to think I was being productive. Now don’t get me wrong, I think the time and effort I invested during those years paid off. However, it also resulted in a sense of dissatisfaction; that is, dissatisfaction that I didn’t explore other potential paths, that I didn’t have the courage to try new things and to be okay with making mistakes. I had extremely narrow tunnel vision because my one and only goal was to go to medical school. 

However, after entering graduate school and actually taking the time to explore other options and career pathways in health, as well as realize that nontraditional pathways are becoming more and more conventional, there is a sense of relief that “failure” is not about changing paths or making mistakes. 

The part of hustle culture that has me hung up is being able to take the time to reflect whether this is what you truly want. I still believe in the value of hard work but I also believe in the value of meaningful and efficient work while also taking the time to reflect. 

The pandemic has shaped a lot of the way we think, what we value, and how we proceed forward. Who we are and what we value is a continuing and ever-growing process, and how we choose to live our lives will play a part. 

I’m curious to hear from you, do you believe in #hustle? Are you part of the #grind culture? Or do you believe we can achieve success, greatness, and satisfaction without the hustle culture?
 

Ms. Lui is an MSc candidate at the University of Toronto, and is with the Mood Disorders Psychopharmacology Unit, Toronto Western Hospital. She has received income from Braxia Scientific. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Thank Goodness it’s Monday? Sincerely yours, #hustle. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has given us the opportunity to reevaluate what we believe is important and valuable in our life. For some, it’s the opportunity to perform meaningful work; for others, it’s increased financial compensation; and, for the remaining, it may be autonomy (e.g., control over their time). One example of where this mindset has manifested has been in the Great Resignation. 

The Great Resignation refers to the significant increase in resignations that was recorded in April 2021. Resignation rates tend to be higher in fields with high turnover rates (e.g., health care, tech) as a result of increased demand and burnout. Although hustle culture has been an ongoing trend for the last few years, the pandemic has given somewhat of a reality check of the future. 

Hustle culture refers to the embracing of work as a lifestyle such that it takes over other important aspects of your life – in other words, when work-life balance becomes work-work (im)balance. It has also been aptly referred to as burnout culture or grind culture. It’s a bit ironic or counterintuitive to think that stopping work means increased productivity – but it’s true. 

During my undergraduate years, I was always hustling – there wasn’t a moment where I wasn’t studying, doing research, training for my sport, or thinking about how I could do better and be better. It was all about working 24/7 – an illusion to think I was being productive. Now don’t get me wrong, I think the time and effort I invested during those years paid off. However, it also resulted in a sense of dissatisfaction; that is, dissatisfaction that I didn’t explore other potential paths, that I didn’t have the courage to try new things and to be okay with making mistakes. I had extremely narrow tunnel vision because my one and only goal was to go to medical school. 

However, after entering graduate school and actually taking the time to explore other options and career pathways in health, as well as realize that nontraditional pathways are becoming more and more conventional, there is a sense of relief that “failure” is not about changing paths or making mistakes. 

The part of hustle culture that has me hung up is being able to take the time to reflect whether this is what you truly want. I still believe in the value of hard work but I also believe in the value of meaningful and efficient work while also taking the time to reflect. 

The pandemic has shaped a lot of the way we think, what we value, and how we proceed forward. Who we are and what we value is a continuing and ever-growing process, and how we choose to live our lives will play a part. 

I’m curious to hear from you, do you believe in #hustle? Are you part of the #grind culture? Or do you believe we can achieve success, greatness, and satisfaction without the hustle culture?
 

Ms. Lui is an MSc candidate at the University of Toronto, and is with the Mood Disorders Psychopharmacology Unit, Toronto Western Hospital. She has received income from Braxia Scientific. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

The past several weeks have been rather tumultuous for LGBTQ Americans, particularly transgender youth. The Texas attorney general penned a legal opinion stating that hormone therapy and puberty blockers for transgender youth constitute “child abuse” under Texas law. Following the statement, Texas governor Greg Abbott swiftly issued a directive to protective services to launch investigations into families providing such services to their children. Almost simultaneously, the Florida Senate approved the Parental Rights in Education bill (dubbed the “Don’t Say Gay” bill by opponents), which limits how sexual orientation and gender identity are taught in the classroom.

Despite the benefits of gender-affirming care for gender-diverse youth, 22 states have introduced legislation that bans the provision of gender-affirming medical care under the age of 18, even with the consent of parents or legal guardians.¹ Unfortunately, gender-diverse youth are more likely than are their cisgender peers to experience poverty, homelessness, depression, suicide, and violence.¹ As a result of ongoing stigma, many gender-diverse patients are hesitant to seek out professional medical care, which includes mental health care, routine health care, and gender-affirming therapies. The positive effects of gender-affirming care for transgender youth are clear, and life saving for many. Gender-affirming medical interventions improve social and mental health outcomes, such as decreased suicidal ideation, depression, and improved peer relations that last until adulthood.¹

As with all aspects in medicine, providers and families of gender-diverse youth need to balance the four ethical principles that guide decision-making and informed consent. For practitioners working with the pediatric/adolescent populations, the age at which pediatric or adolescent patients can truly provide consent or assent is still not determined.² This presents a unique set of challenges in the realm of gender-affirming care particularly when children/adolescents and their parents have differing perspectives on proposed treatment plans. For example, when discussing fertility preservation, a 16-year-old patient is much more likely to understand implications of future fertility than a 9-year-old patient. Furthermore, providers must find the delicate balance between maximizing treatment benefits (beneficence) while minimizing harm (nonmaleficence), while also discussing the uncertainty about the long-term risks of gender-affirming treatments.² The final obligation for health care providers is ensuring all patients have equitable access to care (justice) – which is why we must all oppose legislation that criminalizes treatment for gender-diverse youth, regardless of our individual opinions on gender-affirming care for patients.

Opponents of gender-affirming care for transgender youth often cite concern about permanent effects or psychological distress if a child begins gender-affirming therapy and then chooses to discontinue. While the medical community should be, and is alarmed about patients who detransition, the solution to limiting the number of patients who experience regret or detransition is most certainly not criminalizing or universally banning gender-affirming care for all patients.³ Experts in transgender medicine and surgery (some of whom are transgender themselves) have expressed apprehension regarding the evaluation of gender-diverse children and youth. The concern is not whether gender-diverse youth should receive gender-affirming treatments, but rather they questioned the assessments made by providers who may be less fully qualified to deliver treatment and who deviate from well-established standards of care.⁴ The logical solution would be to further improve upon the current standards of care, ensure providers have appropriate training, and to expand multidisciplinary models of gender-affirming centers for youth.

If politicians were truly worried about the welfare of gender-diverse children, there would be a shift in the allocation of funds or resources to improve research endeavors and establish effective multidisciplinary clinics to meet the needs of this marginalized patient population. While the medical community should carefully examine gender-affirming care in transgender youth, criminalizing care is unconscionable. Our community needs more evidence-based research, providers, and centers, not politics.

The LGBTQ community and providers are rightfully fearful of the repercussions of such legislation. And the politicians and supporters of such bills should be equally apprehensive of the negative consequences this legislation will have on the mental health of transgender youth.

While the model for gender-affirming medicine and surgery needs continual assessment to ensure all patients, regardless of age and goals of transition, are receiving evidence-based, quality care, these discussions and subsequent decision-making should occur among medical professionals, not among politicians and the lay press.⁴

Dr. Brandt is an ob.gyn. and fellowship-trained gender-affirming surgeon in West Reading, Pa.

References

1. Hughes LD et al. ‘These laws will be devastating’: Provider perspectives on legislation banning gender-affirming care for transgender adolescents. J Adol Health;2021;69:976-82.

2. Kimberly LL et al. Ethical issues in gender-affirming care for youth. Pediatrics. Pediatrics;018;142(6)e20181537.

3. Ashley F. Psychol Sexual Orient Gender Divers. APA PsycNet. 2021.

4. Ault A. Transgender docs warn about gender-affirmative care for youth. WebMD. 2021 Nov. Accessed March 14, 2022.

The past several weeks have been rather tumultuous for LGBTQ Americans, particularly transgender youth. The Texas attorney general penned a legal opinion stating that hormone therapy and puberty blockers for transgender youth constitute “child abuse” under Texas law. Following the statement, Texas governor Greg Abbott swiftly issued a directive to protective services to launch investigations into families providing such services to their children. Almost simultaneously, the Florida Senate approved the Parental Rights in Education bill (dubbed the “Don’t Say Gay” bill by opponents), which limits how sexual orientation and gender identity are taught in the classroom.

Despite the benefits of gender-affirming care for gender-diverse youth, 22 states have introduced legislation that bans the provision of gender-affirming medical care under the age of 18, even with the consent of parents or legal guardians.¹ Unfortunately, gender-diverse youth are more likely than are their cisgender peers to experience poverty, homelessness, depression, suicide, and violence.¹ As a result of ongoing stigma, many gender-diverse patients are hesitant to seek out professional medical care, which includes mental health care, routine health care, and gender-affirming therapies. The positive effects of gender-affirming care for transgender youth are clear, and life saving for many. Gender-affirming medical interventions improve social and mental health outcomes, such as decreased suicidal ideation, depression, and improved peer relations that last until adulthood.¹

As with all aspects in medicine, providers and families of gender-diverse youth need to balance the four ethical principles that guide decision-making and informed consent. For practitioners working with the pediatric/adolescent populations, the age at which pediatric or adolescent patients can truly provide consent or assent is still not determined.² This presents a unique set of challenges in the realm of gender-affirming care particularly when children/adolescents and their parents have differing perspectives on proposed treatment plans. For example, when discussing fertility preservation, a 16-year-old patient is much more likely to understand implications of future fertility than a 9-year-old patient. Furthermore, providers must find the delicate balance between maximizing treatment benefits (beneficence) while minimizing harm (nonmaleficence), while also discussing the uncertainty about the long-term risks of gender-affirming treatments.² The final obligation for health care providers is ensuring all patients have equitable access to care (justice) – which is why we must all oppose legislation that criminalizes treatment for gender-diverse youth, regardless of our individual opinions on gender-affirming care for patients.

Opponents of gender-affirming care for transgender youth often cite concern about permanent effects or psychological distress if a child begins gender-affirming therapy and then chooses to discontinue. While the medical community should be, and is alarmed about patients who detransition, the solution to limiting the number of patients who experience regret or detransition is most certainly not criminalizing or universally banning gender-affirming care for all patients.³ Experts in transgender medicine and surgery (some of whom are transgender themselves) have expressed apprehension regarding the evaluation of gender-diverse children and youth. The concern is not whether gender-diverse youth should receive gender-affirming treatments, but rather they questioned the assessments made by providers who may be less fully qualified to deliver treatment and who deviate from well-established standards of care.⁴ The logical solution would be to further improve upon the current standards of care, ensure providers have appropriate training, and to expand multidisciplinary models of gender-affirming centers for youth.

If politicians were truly worried about the welfare of gender-diverse children, there would be a shift in the allocation of funds or resources to improve research endeavors and establish effective multidisciplinary clinics to meet the needs of this marginalized patient population. While the medical community should carefully examine gender-affirming care in transgender youth, criminalizing care is unconscionable. Our community needs more evidence-based research, providers, and centers, not politics.

The LGBTQ community and providers are rightfully fearful of the repercussions of such legislation. And the politicians and supporters of such bills should be equally apprehensive of the negative consequences this legislation will have on the mental health of transgender youth.

While the model for gender-affirming medicine and surgery needs continual assessment to ensure all patients, regardless of age and goals of transition, are receiving evidence-based, quality care, these discussions and subsequent decision-making should occur among medical professionals, not among politicians and the lay press.⁴

Dr. Brandt is an ob.gyn. and fellowship-trained gender-affirming surgeon in West Reading, Pa.

References

1. Hughes LD et al. ‘These laws will be devastating’: Provider perspectives on legislation banning gender-affirming care for transgender adolescents. J Adol Health;2021;69:976-82.

2. Kimberly LL et al. Ethical issues in gender-affirming care for youth. Pediatrics. Pediatrics;018;142(6)e20181537.

3. Ashley F. Psychol Sexual Orient Gender Divers. APA PsycNet. 2021.

4. Ault A. Transgender docs warn about gender-affirmative care for youth. WebMD. 2021 Nov. Accessed March 14, 2022.

The past several weeks have been rather tumultuous for LGBTQ Americans, particularly transgender youth. The Texas attorney general penned a legal opinion stating that hormone therapy and puberty blockers for transgender youth constitute “child abuse” under Texas law. Following the statement, Texas governor Greg Abbott swiftly issued a directive to protective services to launch investigations into families providing such services to their children. Almost simultaneously, the Florida Senate approved the Parental Rights in Education bill (dubbed the “Don’t Say Gay” bill by opponents), which limits how sexual orientation and gender identity are taught in the classroom.

Despite the benefits of gender-affirming care for gender-diverse youth, 22 states have introduced legislation that bans the provision of gender-affirming medical care under the age of 18, even with the consent of parents or legal guardians.¹ Unfortunately, gender-diverse youth are more likely than are their cisgender peers to experience poverty, homelessness, depression, suicide, and violence.¹ As a result of ongoing stigma, many gender-diverse patients are hesitant to seek out professional medical care, which includes mental health care, routine health care, and gender-affirming therapies. The positive effects of gender-affirming care for transgender youth are clear, and life saving for many. Gender-affirming medical interventions improve social and mental health outcomes, such as decreased suicidal ideation, depression, and improved peer relations that last until adulthood.¹

As with all aspects in medicine, providers and families of gender-diverse youth need to balance the four ethical principles that guide decision-making and informed consent. For practitioners working with the pediatric/adolescent populations, the age at which pediatric or adolescent patients can truly provide consent or assent is still not determined.² This presents a unique set of challenges in the realm of gender-affirming care particularly when children/adolescents and their parents have differing perspectives on proposed treatment plans. For example, when discussing fertility preservation, a 16-year-old patient is much more likely to understand implications of future fertility than a 9-year-old patient. Furthermore, providers must find the delicate balance between maximizing treatment benefits (beneficence) while minimizing harm (nonmaleficence), while also discussing the uncertainty about the long-term risks of gender-affirming treatments.² The final obligation for health care providers is ensuring all patients have equitable access to care (justice) – which is why we must all oppose legislation that criminalizes treatment for gender-diverse youth, regardless of our individual opinions on gender-affirming care for patients.

Opponents of gender-affirming care for transgender youth often cite concern about permanent effects or psychological distress if a child begins gender-affirming therapy and then chooses to discontinue. While the medical community should be, and is alarmed about patients who detransition, the solution to limiting the number of patients who experience regret or detransition is most certainly not criminalizing or universally banning gender-affirming care for all patients.³ Experts in transgender medicine and surgery (some of whom are transgender themselves) have expressed apprehension regarding the evaluation of gender-diverse children and youth. The concern is not whether gender-diverse youth should receive gender-affirming treatments, but rather they questioned the assessments made by providers who may be less fully qualified to deliver treatment and who deviate from well-established standards of care.⁴ The logical solution would be to further improve upon the current standards of care, ensure providers have appropriate training, and to expand multidisciplinary models of gender-affirming centers for youth.

If politicians were truly worried about the welfare of gender-diverse children, there would be a shift in the allocation of funds or resources to improve research endeavors and establish effective multidisciplinary clinics to meet the needs of this marginalized patient population. While the medical community should carefully examine gender-affirming care in transgender youth, criminalizing care is unconscionable. Our community needs more evidence-based research, providers, and centers, not politics.

The LGBTQ community and providers are rightfully fearful of the repercussions of such legislation. And the politicians and supporters of such bills should be equally apprehensive of the negative consequences this legislation will have on the mental health of transgender youth.

While the model for gender-affirming medicine and surgery needs continual assessment to ensure all patients, regardless of age and goals of transition, are receiving evidence-based, quality care, these discussions and subsequent decision-making should occur among medical professionals, not among politicians and the lay press.⁴

Dr. Brandt is an ob.gyn. and fellowship-trained gender-affirming surgeon in West Reading, Pa.

References

1. Hughes LD et al. ‘These laws will be devastating’: Provider perspectives on legislation banning gender-affirming care for transgender adolescents. J Adol Health;2021;69:976-82.

2. Kimberly LL et al. Ethical issues in gender-affirming care for youth. Pediatrics. Pediatrics;018;142(6)e20181537.

3. Ashley F. Psychol Sexual Orient Gender Divers. APA PsycNet. 2021.

4. Ault A. Transgender docs warn about gender-affirmative care for youth. WebMD. 2021 Nov. Accessed March 14, 2022.

The vast majority of U.S. physicians regularly treat patients with socioeconomic challenges – from financial instability and a lack of transportation to eviction threats and domestic problems – but are deeply frustrated by their inability to adequately address these issues, a new survey has found.

The survey, conducted in February by The Physicians Foundation, queried 1,502 doctors (500 primary care physicians and 1,002 specialists) about their experience with social drivers – also known as determinants – of health (SDOH). Among the key findings: More than 60% of respondents said they had little or no time to effectively address the SDOH needs of their patients, yet nearly 9 in 10 (87%) said they would like to be able to do so in the future.

Most (63%) said they feel burned out when they try to help patients with their SDOH needs; and nearly 7 in 10 (68%) said managing SDOH for their patients has a “major impact” on their mental health and well-being.

This news organization spoke with Gary Price, MD, president of The Physicians Foundation, about the findings.

Q: These issues aren’t new. Why did you undertake this survey now?

The Physicians Foundation has surveyed America’s physicians for a decade on their practice and the broader health care environment, which included questions on SDOH. However, this is the first one we’ve done that concentrated entirely on SDOH. We think it’s particularly timely now.

The COVID-19 pandemic focused a very harsh spotlight on the tremendous impact SDOH can have on patient health, care outcomes, costs, physician burden, and the physician-patient relationship. It’s become increasingly apparent that for our country to achieve health equity and improve our health care system, including physician satisfaction, we must address the impact of SDOH on patients and physicians.

Even before the pandemic, we had an epidemic of physician burnout. That was driven in large part by the huge amount of time being wasted on administrative tasks such as pre-approvals, insurance forms, and working with electronic medical records. Now we’re recognizing that the causes of physician burnout are much larger than that.

Q: The results of the survey show that physicians are seeing the effects of SDOH no matter where they practice – rural (81%), urban (81%), suburban (73%) – how old they are, or their own racial or ethnic heritage. Is that surprising?

I was, in fact, surprised by the pervasiveness. Every physician is seeing the impact of social drivers on their patients every day. For a long time, physicians tried to ignore these problems because they couldn’t deal with them at the practice level; it was too big a task. But if we’re going to decrease the cost of health care and increase the quality of outcomes and decrease the enormous disparities we see, we’re going to have to deal with these SDOH.

I think the problem is grim, but physicians recognize this issue. It’s not one that they traditionally are trained to deal with – and, more importantly, they are not reimbursed on these issues. But despite that, they all want to help.

Q: The survey found that 83% of physicians believed their inability to adequately deal with SDOH moderately (60%) or significantly (23%) contributed to their feelings of burnout. Why do you think physicians find these problems so frustrating and stressful?

The definition of burnout is feeling that you’re being held responsible for things you no longer have any control or authority over. A patient’s inability to find transportation to get to an appointment, or who has financial instability that can lead them to have to make a choice between buying medicine or buying food for their family, isn’t something a physician can change. The overwhelming majority of physicians in our survey not only recognize that their patients have needs in these areas, but they don’t have time to be able to deal with them the way that they’d like to – either the resources aren’t there, or they aren’t effective, or they simply don’t know where to turn.

This phenomenon has been quantified by research. A 2020 study in JAMA, by the Physicians Foundation Center for the Study of Physician Practice and Leadership at Weill Cornell Medicine, found that physicians who had a larger burden of patients with more social needs received lower quality scores from Medicare and were less likely to receive bonuses for the care they provided. But the lower scores were related to the patients’ socioeconomic environment and had nothing do with the quality of the care they received.

Q: Researchers have looked at the relationship between SDOH and burnout, and what happens when physicians incorporate resources to address social issues into their practice. And it seems that doing so can help ease burnout at least a little.

That makes perfect sense. You’re now giving them the ability to intervene and do something about a health-related issue that’s going to help their patients get better quicker. At the same time, addressing these social issues can reduce health care costs to the system while improving outcomes. For example, when a patient with diabetes who needs insulin has their electricity cut off, they can no longer refrigerate the insulin. So simply having their electricity restored could keep them from being hospitalized for a diabetic coma because they weren’t able to follow their treatment.

The Health Leads Grow and Catalyze project, which we helped fund in 2014-2018, trained college students to make lists of key resources patients might require – like food, electricity, or heat – and work with physicians in the emergency room to get a prescription for that need. We’ve seen a very excellent return on investment and it’s now in health systems all over the country.

Q: The survey does a good job of highlighting the nature and scope of the problem, but what about solutions? What, if anything, can physicians be doing now to reduce the burden of SDOH for their patients?

The most important thing we’re doing now is drawing attention to the problem, not only to the impact it’s having on patients’ health but the health and well-being of our physicians.

The greatest challenge physicians said they faced was not having enough time to address these issues in their practice, and that stems directly from a lot of time that gets wasted on other things – preapprovals, inefficient EHRs, checkboxes. Our doctors reported that even when they know where the resources exist, they are hard to access or unavailable when they want them.

Almost all these things are going to require innovative solutions, and in some cases might vary by the individual. With transportation, for example, maybe we need a system like Meals on Wheels, where part of the solution could be a system of volunteer drivers to take patients to appointments. Or we might need more funding for transportation directly aimed at people who don’t have access to a bus line. But when you think about how much a ride in an ambulance costs versus how much it would cost to get someone to the doctor before they got sick enough to require that ambulance, that kind of expenditure makes a lot of sense for driving down individual and system costs. 

Q: The problem of unconscious bias in medicine has been receiving increasing attention. Do you think this bias is related to the issues of SDOH the new survey reveals?

Discrimination and racism are examples of SDOH. Implicit bias can happen in any aspect of our lives and interactions with others – so for physicians this can happen with our patients. Our survey didn’t specifically dive into how bias plays a role in addressing the impact of SDOH, but as a society we can no longer ignore any factor that hinders a person from accessing high-quality, cost-effective health care, including our own unconscious bias.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

The vast majority of U.S. physicians regularly treat patients with socioeconomic challenges – from financial instability and a lack of transportation to eviction threats and domestic problems – but are deeply frustrated by their inability to adequately address these issues, a new survey has found.

The survey, conducted in February by The Physicians Foundation, queried 1,502 doctors (500 primary care physicians and 1,002 specialists) about their experience with social drivers – also known as determinants – of health (SDOH). Among the key findings: More than 60% of respondents said they had little or no time to effectively address the SDOH needs of their patients, yet nearly 9 in 10 (87%) said they would like to be able to do so in the future.

Most (63%) said they feel burned out when they try to help patients with their SDOH needs; and nearly 7 in 10 (68%) said managing SDOH for their patients has a “major impact” on their mental health and well-being.

This news organization spoke with Gary Price, MD, president of The Physicians Foundation, about the findings.

Q: These issues aren’t new. Why did you undertake this survey now?

The Physicians Foundation has surveyed America’s physicians for a decade on their practice and the broader health care environment, which included questions on SDOH. However, this is the first one we’ve done that concentrated entirely on SDOH. We think it’s particularly timely now.

The COVID-19 pandemic focused a very harsh spotlight on the tremendous impact SDOH can have on patient health, care outcomes, costs, physician burden, and the physician-patient relationship. It’s become increasingly apparent that for our country to achieve health equity and improve our health care system, including physician satisfaction, we must address the impact of SDOH on patients and physicians.

Even before the pandemic, we had an epidemic of physician burnout. That was driven in large part by the huge amount of time being wasted on administrative tasks such as pre-approvals, insurance forms, and working with electronic medical records. Now we’re recognizing that the causes of physician burnout are much larger than that.

Q: The results of the survey show that physicians are seeing the effects of SDOH no matter where they practice – rural (81%), urban (81%), suburban (73%) – how old they are, or their own racial or ethnic heritage. Is that surprising?

I was, in fact, surprised by the pervasiveness. Every physician is seeing the impact of social drivers on their patients every day. For a long time, physicians tried to ignore these problems because they couldn’t deal with them at the practice level; it was too big a task. But if we’re going to decrease the cost of health care and increase the quality of outcomes and decrease the enormous disparities we see, we’re going to have to deal with these SDOH.

I think the problem is grim, but physicians recognize this issue. It’s not one that they traditionally are trained to deal with – and, more importantly, they are not reimbursed on these issues. But despite that, they all want to help.

Q: The survey found that 83% of physicians believed their inability to adequately deal with SDOH moderately (60%) or significantly (23%) contributed to their feelings of burnout. Why do you think physicians find these problems so frustrating and stressful?

The definition of burnout is feeling that you’re being held responsible for things you no longer have any control or authority over. A patient’s inability to find transportation to get to an appointment, or who has financial instability that can lead them to have to make a choice between buying medicine or buying food for their family, isn’t something a physician can change. The overwhelming majority of physicians in our survey not only recognize that their patients have needs in these areas, but they don’t have time to be able to deal with them the way that they’d like to – either the resources aren’t there, or they aren’t effective, or they simply don’t know where to turn.

This phenomenon has been quantified by research. A 2020 study in JAMA, by the Physicians Foundation Center for the Study of Physician Practice and Leadership at Weill Cornell Medicine, found that physicians who had a larger burden of patients with more social needs received lower quality scores from Medicare and were less likely to receive bonuses for the care they provided. But the lower scores were related to the patients’ socioeconomic environment and had nothing do with the quality of the care they received.

Q: Researchers have looked at the relationship between SDOH and burnout, and what happens when physicians incorporate resources to address social issues into their practice. And it seems that doing so can help ease burnout at least a little.

That makes perfect sense. You’re now giving them the ability to intervene and do something about a health-related issue that’s going to help their patients get better quicker. At the same time, addressing these social issues can reduce health care costs to the system while improving outcomes. For example, when a patient with diabetes who needs insulin has their electricity cut off, they can no longer refrigerate the insulin. So simply having their electricity restored could keep them from being hospitalized for a diabetic coma because they weren’t able to follow their treatment.

The Health Leads Grow and Catalyze project, which we helped fund in 2014-2018, trained college students to make lists of key resources patients might require – like food, electricity, or heat – and work with physicians in the emergency room to get a prescription for that need. We’ve seen a very excellent return on investment and it’s now in health systems all over the country.

Q: The survey does a good job of highlighting the nature and scope of the problem, but what about solutions? What, if anything, can physicians be doing now to reduce the burden of SDOH for their patients?

The most important thing we’re doing now is drawing attention to the problem, not only to the impact it’s having on patients’ health but the health and well-being of our physicians.

The greatest challenge physicians said they faced was not having enough time to address these issues in their practice, and that stems directly from a lot of time that gets wasted on other things – preapprovals, inefficient EHRs, checkboxes. Our doctors reported that even when they know where the resources exist, they are hard to access or unavailable when they want them.

Almost all these things are going to require innovative solutions, and in some cases might vary by the individual. With transportation, for example, maybe we need a system like Meals on Wheels, where part of the solution could be a system of volunteer drivers to take patients to appointments. Or we might need more funding for transportation directly aimed at people who don’t have access to a bus line. But when you think about how much a ride in an ambulance costs versus how much it would cost to get someone to the doctor before they got sick enough to require that ambulance, that kind of expenditure makes a lot of sense for driving down individual and system costs. 

Q: The problem of unconscious bias in medicine has been receiving increasing attention. Do you think this bias is related to the issues of SDOH the new survey reveals?

Discrimination and racism are examples of SDOH. Implicit bias can happen in any aspect of our lives and interactions with others – so for physicians this can happen with our patients. Our survey didn’t specifically dive into how bias plays a role in addressing the impact of SDOH, but as a society we can no longer ignore any factor that hinders a person from accessing high-quality, cost-effective health care, including our own unconscious bias.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

The vast majority of U.S. physicians regularly treat patients with socioeconomic challenges – from financial instability and a lack of transportation to eviction threats and domestic problems – but are deeply frustrated by their inability to adequately address these issues, a new survey has found.

The survey, conducted in February by The Physicians Foundation, queried 1,502 doctors (500 primary care physicians and 1,002 specialists) about their experience with social drivers – also known as determinants – of health (SDOH). Among the key findings: More than 60% of respondents said they had little or no time to effectively address the SDOH needs of their patients, yet nearly 9 in 10 (87%) said they would like to be able to do so in the future.

Most (63%) said they feel burned out when they try to help patients with their SDOH needs; and nearly 7 in 10 (68%) said managing SDOH for their patients has a “major impact” on their mental health and well-being.

This news organization spoke with Gary Price, MD, president of The Physicians Foundation, about the findings.

Q: These issues aren’t new. Why did you undertake this survey now?

The Physicians Foundation has surveyed America’s physicians for a decade on their practice and the broader health care environment, which included questions on SDOH. However, this is the first one we’ve done that concentrated entirely on SDOH. We think it’s particularly timely now.

The COVID-19 pandemic focused a very harsh spotlight on the tremendous impact SDOH can have on patient health, care outcomes, costs, physician burden, and the physician-patient relationship. It’s become increasingly apparent that for our country to achieve health equity and improve our health care system, including physician satisfaction, we must address the impact of SDOH on patients and physicians.

Even before the pandemic, we had an epidemic of physician burnout. That was driven in large part by the huge amount of time being wasted on administrative tasks such as pre-approvals, insurance forms, and working with electronic medical records. Now we’re recognizing that the causes of physician burnout are much larger than that.

Q: The results of the survey show that physicians are seeing the effects of SDOH no matter where they practice – rural (81%), urban (81%), suburban (73%) – how old they are, or their own racial or ethnic heritage. Is that surprising?

I was, in fact, surprised by the pervasiveness. Every physician is seeing the impact of social drivers on their patients every day. For a long time, physicians tried to ignore these problems because they couldn’t deal with them at the practice level; it was too big a task. But if we’re going to decrease the cost of health care and increase the quality of outcomes and decrease the enormous disparities we see, we’re going to have to deal with these SDOH.

I think the problem is grim, but physicians recognize this issue. It’s not one that they traditionally are trained to deal with – and, more importantly, they are not reimbursed on these issues. But despite that, they all want to help.

Q: The survey found that 83% of physicians believed their inability to adequately deal with SDOH moderately (60%) or significantly (23%) contributed to their feelings of burnout. Why do you think physicians find these problems so frustrating and stressful?

The definition of burnout is feeling that you’re being held responsible for things you no longer have any control or authority over. A patient’s inability to find transportation to get to an appointment, or who has financial instability that can lead them to have to make a choice between buying medicine or buying food for their family, isn’t something a physician can change. The overwhelming majority of physicians in our survey not only recognize that their patients have needs in these areas, but they don’t have time to be able to deal with them the way that they’d like to – either the resources aren’t there, or they aren’t effective, or they simply don’t know where to turn.

This phenomenon has been quantified by research. A 2020 study in JAMA, by the Physicians Foundation Center for the Study of Physician Practice and Leadership at Weill Cornell Medicine, found that physicians who had a larger burden of patients with more social needs received lower quality scores from Medicare and were less likely to receive bonuses for the care they provided. But the lower scores were related to the patients’ socioeconomic environment and had nothing do with the quality of the care they received.

Q: Researchers have looked at the relationship between SDOH and burnout, and what happens when physicians incorporate resources to address social issues into their practice. And it seems that doing so can help ease burnout at least a little.

That makes perfect sense. You’re now giving them the ability to intervene and do something about a health-related issue that’s going to help their patients get better quicker. At the same time, addressing these social issues can reduce health care costs to the system while improving outcomes. For example, when a patient with diabetes who needs insulin has their electricity cut off, they can no longer refrigerate the insulin. So simply having their electricity restored could keep them from being hospitalized for a diabetic coma because they weren’t able to follow their treatment.

The Health Leads Grow and Catalyze project, which we helped fund in 2014-2018, trained college students to make lists of key resources patients might require – like food, electricity, or heat – and work with physicians in the emergency room to get a prescription for that need. We’ve seen a very excellent return on investment and it’s now in health systems all over the country.

Q: The survey does a good job of highlighting the nature and scope of the problem, but what about solutions? What, if anything, can physicians be doing now to reduce the burden of SDOH for their patients?

The most important thing we’re doing now is drawing attention to the problem, not only to the impact it’s having on patients’ health but the health and well-being of our physicians.

The greatest challenge physicians said they faced was not having enough time to address these issues in their practice, and that stems directly from a lot of time that gets wasted on other things – preapprovals, inefficient EHRs, checkboxes. Our doctors reported that even when they know where the resources exist, they are hard to access or unavailable when they want them.

Almost all these things are going to require innovative solutions, and in some cases might vary by the individual. With transportation, for example, maybe we need a system like Meals on Wheels, where part of the solution could be a system of volunteer drivers to take patients to appointments. Or we might need more funding for transportation directly aimed at people who don’t have access to a bus line. But when you think about how much a ride in an ambulance costs versus how much it would cost to get someone to the doctor before they got sick enough to require that ambulance, that kind of expenditure makes a lot of sense for driving down individual and system costs. 

Q: The problem of unconscious bias in medicine has been receiving increasing attention. Do you think this bias is related to the issues of SDOH the new survey reveals?

Discrimination and racism are examples of SDOH. Implicit bias can happen in any aspect of our lives and interactions with others – so for physicians this can happen with our patients. Our survey didn’t specifically dive into how bias plays a role in addressing the impact of SDOH, but as a society we can no longer ignore any factor that hinders a person from accessing high-quality, cost-effective health care, including our own unconscious bias.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.