Commentary

With the rise of telehealth utilization during the COVID-19 pandemic, clinical care delivery has undergone a substantial shift. This is especially true in dermatology, as utilization of telehealth has jumped from under 15% to more than 95% of dermatologists after the COVID-19 pandemic.¹ However, with this new form of care delivery, it is important to ensure that patients don’t get left behind, either due to socioeconomic/language barriers² or hesitancy about the conditions being treated.

It may not be surprising to know that the idea of using telemedicine for rheumatology is not new. Indeed, a report from 20 years ago outlined the high level of both satisfaction with live interactive telehealth visits for rheumatologic conditions and diagnostic accuracy as compared to in-person visits.³ Through guided palpation and careful history taking, it is possible to conduct a thorough visit and even manage biologics, diagnose active arthritis/enthesitis via photographs, and evaluate pain through a visual analog scale.⁴ As far as dermatology is concerned, it is clear that certain situations seem to be better suited for teledermatology, such as follow-up visits for acne/rosacea.¹ But what of psoriatic arthritis (PsA)? Does telehealth have the potential to mitigate our undertreatment of this important condition, which finds about half of patients being treated with only topical therapy or no treatment at all?⁵ Or can we modulate our visits to accommodate these patients, taking care of not only their visible psoriasis but also the underlying PsA?

Psoriasis is well suited for teledermatology management in general, especially once the diagnosis is made. Multiple studies have shown diagnostic equivalence with in-person care and even similar outcomes after treatment.^6,7 However, most studies have looked at telemedicine primarily for cutaneous psoriasis, and translating this to screening for and management of PsA is paramount. After all, a delay of only 6 months in diagnosing and treating PsA has been associated with poor outcomes.⁸ Thankfully, we do have some tools that can help. There are 3 validated screening tools for PsA: the Psoriasis Epidemiology Screening Tool (PEST), the Psoriatic Arthritis Screening and Evaluation (PASE), and the Toronto Psoriatic Arthritis Screen (ToPAS) questionnaire.⁹ Of these, the PEST seems to be a reasonable option that is quick and easily deployed; it has shown strong performance in terms of sensitivity, specificity, and negative predictive value/positive predictive value when compared to similar screening tools.¹⁰ It also should be facile to direct patients to complete the screening tool, as an online version is available on the National Psoriasis Foundation’s website (https://www.psoriasis.org/psoriatic-arthritis-screening-test/) where patients can be directed to answer 5 simple questions and report back the outcome. For treatment decisions, this tool also can be used to help identify patients who are good candidates for systemic or biologic therapy or those who should see a rheumatologist. Of course, an in-depth discussion of joint pain, morning stiffness, and tender/swollen joints may be more fruitful but also more challenging to conduct. I would propose that this can be pared down to a more direct conversation about finger pain/tenderness, tenderness at the elbow/knee (lateral epicondyle/medial femoral condyle), or heel (Achilles) as more common sites of enthesitis, and questioning about back pain or stiffness that improves with movement.⁹ By combining the screening tool with these pointed questions, even via telehealth, we can greatly improve our yield in diagnosing PsA while only adding a minute or two to our visits. I’d argue that this is much more fruitful than asking the patient to contort their bodies and camera to show an obscure lesion!

It is interesting to consider areas in dermatology where we might make a notable impact on mortality and morbidity by expanding access to care. Earlier diagnosis of melanoma, for instance, certainly would be in consideration, especially in areas of the country where access to dermatologic care is challenging. Better management of PsA has to be up there on the list of conditions where we immediately can make a tangible difference; we have the tools to do so and excellent therapeutics that are safe and effective. Our colleagues in rheumatology have embraced telemedicine with a “how, not if” approach to embracing new technology,¹¹ and it is about time that dermatology takes a similar attitude. The gap between access to dermatologic care in urban areas vs either nonmetropolitan or rural areas is increasing, and dermatology tends to be much more available in well-resourced, urban areas.¹² There are patients who need our expertise, and if it takes the compromise of adopting a technology that sometimes gives us headaches (we’ve all been on video visits with a choppy signal and inadequate lighting), we still should try to figure out the best way to do it because it’s the right thing to do for these patients. If we don’t, the determination of how to conduct teledermatology care will be taken away from us and either insurance companies or corporations not guided by dermatologists may try to enter this health care void and decide how to provide these services.

With the rise of telehealth utilization during the COVID-19 pandemic, clinical care delivery has undergone a substantial shift. This is especially true in dermatology, as utilization of telehealth has jumped from under 15% to more than 95% of dermatologists after the COVID-19 pandemic.¹ However, with this new form of care delivery, it is important to ensure that patients don’t get left behind, either due to socioeconomic/language barriers² or hesitancy about the conditions being treated.

It may not be surprising to know that the idea of using telemedicine for rheumatology is not new. Indeed, a report from 20 years ago outlined the high level of both satisfaction with live interactive telehealth visits for rheumatologic conditions and diagnostic accuracy as compared to in-person visits.³ Through guided palpation and careful history taking, it is possible to conduct a thorough visit and even manage biologics, diagnose active arthritis/enthesitis via photographs, and evaluate pain through a visual analog scale.⁴ As far as dermatology is concerned, it is clear that certain situations seem to be better suited for teledermatology, such as follow-up visits for acne/rosacea.¹ But what of psoriatic arthritis (PsA)? Does telehealth have the potential to mitigate our undertreatment of this important condition, which finds about half of patients being treated with only topical therapy or no treatment at all?⁵ Or can we modulate our visits to accommodate these patients, taking care of not only their visible psoriasis but also the underlying PsA?

Psoriasis is well suited for teledermatology management in general, especially once the diagnosis is made. Multiple studies have shown diagnostic equivalence with in-person care and even similar outcomes after treatment.^6,7 However, most studies have looked at telemedicine primarily for cutaneous psoriasis, and translating this to screening for and management of PsA is paramount. After all, a delay of only 6 months in diagnosing and treating PsA has been associated with poor outcomes.⁸ Thankfully, we do have some tools that can help. There are 3 validated screening tools for PsA: the Psoriasis Epidemiology Screening Tool (PEST), the Psoriatic Arthritis Screening and Evaluation (PASE), and the Toronto Psoriatic Arthritis Screen (ToPAS) questionnaire.⁹ Of these, the PEST seems to be a reasonable option that is quick and easily deployed; it has shown strong performance in terms of sensitivity, specificity, and negative predictive value/positive predictive value when compared to similar screening tools.¹⁰ It also should be facile to direct patients to complete the screening tool, as an online version is available on the National Psoriasis Foundation’s website (https://www.psoriasis.org/psoriatic-arthritis-screening-test/) where patients can be directed to answer 5 simple questions and report back the outcome. For treatment decisions, this tool also can be used to help identify patients who are good candidates for systemic or biologic therapy or those who should see a rheumatologist. Of course, an in-depth discussion of joint pain, morning stiffness, and tender/swollen joints may be more fruitful but also more challenging to conduct. I would propose that this can be pared down to a more direct conversation about finger pain/tenderness, tenderness at the elbow/knee (lateral epicondyle/medial femoral condyle), or heel (Achilles) as more common sites of enthesitis, and questioning about back pain or stiffness that improves with movement.⁹ By combining the screening tool with these pointed questions, even via telehealth, we can greatly improve our yield in diagnosing PsA while only adding a minute or two to our visits. I’d argue that this is much more fruitful than asking the patient to contort their bodies and camera to show an obscure lesion!

It is interesting to consider areas in dermatology where we might make a notable impact on mortality and morbidity by expanding access to care. Earlier diagnosis of melanoma, for instance, certainly would be in consideration, especially in areas of the country where access to dermatologic care is challenging. Better management of PsA has to be up there on the list of conditions where we immediately can make a tangible difference; we have the tools to do so and excellent therapeutics that are safe and effective. Our colleagues in rheumatology have embraced telemedicine with a “how, not if” approach to embracing new technology,¹¹ and it is about time that dermatology takes a similar attitude. The gap between access to dermatologic care in urban areas vs either nonmetropolitan or rural areas is increasing, and dermatology tends to be much more available in well-resourced, urban areas.¹² There are patients who need our expertise, and if it takes the compromise of adopting a technology that sometimes gives us headaches (we’ve all been on video visits with a choppy signal and inadequate lighting), we still should try to figure out the best way to do it because it’s the right thing to do for these patients. If we don’t, the determination of how to conduct teledermatology care will be taken away from us and either insurance companies or corporations not guided by dermatologists may try to enter this health care void and decide how to provide these services.

With the rise of telehealth utilization during the COVID-19 pandemic, clinical care delivery has undergone a substantial shift. This is especially true in dermatology, as utilization of telehealth has jumped from under 15% to more than 95% of dermatologists after the COVID-19 pandemic.¹ However, with this new form of care delivery, it is important to ensure that patients don’t get left behind, either due to socioeconomic/language barriers² or hesitancy about the conditions being treated.

It may not be surprising to know that the idea of using telemedicine for rheumatology is not new. Indeed, a report from 20 years ago outlined the high level of both satisfaction with live interactive telehealth visits for rheumatologic conditions and diagnostic accuracy as compared to in-person visits.³ Through guided palpation and careful history taking, it is possible to conduct a thorough visit and even manage biologics, diagnose active arthritis/enthesitis via photographs, and evaluate pain through a visual analog scale.⁴ As far as dermatology is concerned, it is clear that certain situations seem to be better suited for teledermatology, such as follow-up visits for acne/rosacea.¹ But what of psoriatic arthritis (PsA)? Does telehealth have the potential to mitigate our undertreatment of this important condition, which finds about half of patients being treated with only topical therapy or no treatment at all?⁵ Or can we modulate our visits to accommodate these patients, taking care of not only their visible psoriasis but also the underlying PsA?

Psoriasis is well suited for teledermatology management in general, especially once the diagnosis is made. Multiple studies have shown diagnostic equivalence with in-person care and even similar outcomes after treatment.^6,7 However, most studies have looked at telemedicine primarily for cutaneous psoriasis, and translating this to screening for and management of PsA is paramount. After all, a delay of only 6 months in diagnosing and treating PsA has been associated with poor outcomes.⁸ Thankfully, we do have some tools that can help. There are 3 validated screening tools for PsA: the Psoriasis Epidemiology Screening Tool (PEST), the Psoriatic Arthritis Screening and Evaluation (PASE), and the Toronto Psoriatic Arthritis Screen (ToPAS) questionnaire.⁹ Of these, the PEST seems to be a reasonable option that is quick and easily deployed; it has shown strong performance in terms of sensitivity, specificity, and negative predictive value/positive predictive value when compared to similar screening tools.¹⁰ It also should be facile to direct patients to complete the screening tool, as an online version is available on the National Psoriasis Foundation’s website (https://www.psoriasis.org/psoriatic-arthritis-screening-test/) where patients can be directed to answer 5 simple questions and report back the outcome. For treatment decisions, this tool also can be used to help identify patients who are good candidates for systemic or biologic therapy or those who should see a rheumatologist. Of course, an in-depth discussion of joint pain, morning stiffness, and tender/swollen joints may be more fruitful but also more challenging to conduct. I would propose that this can be pared down to a more direct conversation about finger pain/tenderness, tenderness at the elbow/knee (lateral epicondyle/medial femoral condyle), or heel (Achilles) as more common sites of enthesitis, and questioning about back pain or stiffness that improves with movement.⁹ By combining the screening tool with these pointed questions, even via telehealth, we can greatly improve our yield in diagnosing PsA while only adding a minute or two to our visits. I’d argue that this is much more fruitful than asking the patient to contort their bodies and camera to show an obscure lesion!

It is interesting to consider areas in dermatology where we might make a notable impact on mortality and morbidity by expanding access to care. Earlier diagnosis of melanoma, for instance, certainly would be in consideration, especially in areas of the country where access to dermatologic care is challenging. Better management of PsA has to be up there on the list of conditions where we immediately can make a tangible difference; we have the tools to do so and excellent therapeutics that are safe and effective. Our colleagues in rheumatology have embraced telemedicine with a “how, not if” approach to embracing new technology,¹¹ and it is about time that dermatology takes a similar attitude. The gap between access to dermatologic care in urban areas vs either nonmetropolitan or rural areas is increasing, and dermatology tends to be much more available in well-resourced, urban areas.¹² There are patients who need our expertise, and if it takes the compromise of adopting a technology that sometimes gives us headaches (we’ve all been on video visits with a choppy signal and inadequate lighting), we still should try to figure out the best way to do it because it’s the right thing to do for these patients. If we don’t, the determination of how to conduct teledermatology care will be taken away from us and either insurance companies or corporations not guided by dermatologists may try to enter this health care void and decide how to provide these services.

A 63-year-old man undergoes cardiac bypass surgery. He is able to be extubated at 8 hours. The next morning he has a fever to 38.5° C His exam shows no redness at the surgical site, or at his IV sites. His lung exam is unremarkable. His urinalysis is without white blood cells. His white blood cell count is 8,500, and his chest x-ray shows atelectasis without other abnormalities.

What is the most likely cause of this patient’s fever? The research papers cited below suggest what it isn’t and what it might be.

One of the earliest things I was taught in my clinical years were the causes of postoperative fever, or the 5Ws, which are wind, water, wound, walk, and wonder drug.

Atelectasis was touted as the cause of early postoperative fever. This became clear fact in my medical student mind, not something that I had ever questioned.  But investigation into whether there is evidence of this shows it is only a myth. In actuality, there is scant evidence, if any, for atelectasis causing fever. Frequently, no cause of postoperative fever has been found, despite aggressive attempts to look for one.

What the research says

Fanning and colleagues prospectively looked at 537 women who were undergoing major gynecologic surgery.¹ Postoperative fever occurred in 211 of them. In 92% of these patients, no cause for fever was found.

Atelectasis is frequently seen postoperatively. Schlenker and colleagues reported that, in patients with postoperative atelectasis, temperature elevation on the first postoperative day was directly related to the degree of atelectasis, but the white blood cell count elevation was inversely related.²

In this study, atelectasis was diagnosed by auscultation, with chest x-rays ordered at the discretion of the physician. There was little correlation with the auscultatory findings and presence or absence of atelectasis in the patients who did receive chest x-rays.

Engoren did a study to prospectively evaluate 100 postoperative patients with daily chest x-rays and continuous temperature monitoring.³ Results from the day of surgery (day 0) to the second postoperative day showed an increase in presence of atelectasis from 43% on the day of surgery to 79% by day 2.

Fever, defined as temperature greater than 38° C, fell from 37% on the day of surgery to 17% by day 2. Engoren found no association between fever and degree of atelectasis.

Mavros and colleagues did a comprehensive review to determine whether there was evidence to support atelectasis causing fever.⁴ They concluded that there was no clinical evidence supporting the concept that atelectasis is associated with early postoperative fever.
 

A possible cause of fever

Mavros and colleagues’ paper suggested that early postoperative fever was caused by stress derived by surgery, which can increase the patient’s interleukin-6 levels and thermostatic set point. This was demonstrated in a small study by Wortel and colleagues, who measured IL-6 levels in the portal and peripheral blood of patients following pancreaticoduodenectomy.⁵ They found IL-6 levels correlated strongly with peak body temperature.

In conclusion, atelectasis is not a well-established cause of postoperative fever.

Dr. Paauw is professor of medicine in the division of general internal medicine at the University of Washington, Seattle, and he serves as third-year medical student clerkship director at the University of Washington. He is a member of the editorial advisory board of Internal Medicine News. Dr. Paauw has no conflicts to disclose. Contact him at imnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Fanning J et al. Infect Dis Obstet Gynecol. 1998; 6(6):252-5 .

2. Schlenker JD and Hubay CA. Arch Surg 1973;107:846-50

3. Engoren M. Chest. 1995;107(1):81-4 .

4. Michael N et al. Chest. 2011;140(2):418-24

5. Wortel CH et al. Surgery. 1993;114(3):564-70 .

A 63-year-old man undergoes cardiac bypass surgery. He is able to be extubated at 8 hours. The next morning he has a fever to 38.5° C His exam shows no redness at the surgical site, or at his IV sites. His lung exam is unremarkable. His urinalysis is without white blood cells. His white blood cell count is 8,500, and his chest x-ray shows atelectasis without other abnormalities.

What is the most likely cause of this patient’s fever? The research papers cited below suggest what it isn’t and what it might be.

One of the earliest things I was taught in my clinical years were the causes of postoperative fever, or the 5Ws, which are wind, water, wound, walk, and wonder drug.

Atelectasis was touted as the cause of early postoperative fever. This became clear fact in my medical student mind, not something that I had ever questioned.  But investigation into whether there is evidence of this shows it is only a myth. In actuality, there is scant evidence, if any, for atelectasis causing fever. Frequently, no cause of postoperative fever has been found, despite aggressive attempts to look for one.

What the research says

Fanning and colleagues prospectively looked at 537 women who were undergoing major gynecologic surgery.¹ Postoperative fever occurred in 211 of them. In 92% of these patients, no cause for fever was found.

Atelectasis is frequently seen postoperatively. Schlenker and colleagues reported that, in patients with postoperative atelectasis, temperature elevation on the first postoperative day was directly related to the degree of atelectasis, but the white blood cell count elevation was inversely related.²

In this study, atelectasis was diagnosed by auscultation, with chest x-rays ordered at the discretion of the physician. There was little correlation with the auscultatory findings and presence or absence of atelectasis in the patients who did receive chest x-rays.

Engoren did a study to prospectively evaluate 100 postoperative patients with daily chest x-rays and continuous temperature monitoring.³ Results from the day of surgery (day 0) to the second postoperative day showed an increase in presence of atelectasis from 43% on the day of surgery to 79% by day 2.

Fever, defined as temperature greater than 38° C, fell from 37% on the day of surgery to 17% by day 2. Engoren found no association between fever and degree of atelectasis.

Mavros and colleagues did a comprehensive review to determine whether there was evidence to support atelectasis causing fever.⁴ They concluded that there was no clinical evidence supporting the concept that atelectasis is associated with early postoperative fever.
 

A possible cause of fever

Mavros and colleagues’ paper suggested that early postoperative fever was caused by stress derived by surgery, which can increase the patient’s interleukin-6 levels and thermostatic set point. This was demonstrated in a small study by Wortel and colleagues, who measured IL-6 levels in the portal and peripheral blood of patients following pancreaticoduodenectomy.⁵ They found IL-6 levels correlated strongly with peak body temperature.

In conclusion, atelectasis is not a well-established cause of postoperative fever.

Dr. Paauw is professor of medicine in the division of general internal medicine at the University of Washington, Seattle, and he serves as third-year medical student clerkship director at the University of Washington. He is a member of the editorial advisory board of Internal Medicine News. Dr. Paauw has no conflicts to disclose. Contact him at imnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Fanning J et al. Infect Dis Obstet Gynecol. 1998; 6(6):252-5 .

2. Schlenker JD and Hubay CA. Arch Surg 1973;107:846-50

3. Engoren M. Chest. 1995;107(1):81-4 .

4. Michael N et al. Chest. 2011;140(2):418-24

5. Wortel CH et al. Surgery. 1993;114(3):564-70 .

A 63-year-old man undergoes cardiac bypass surgery. He is able to be extubated at 8 hours. The next morning he has a fever to 38.5° C His exam shows no redness at the surgical site, or at his IV sites. His lung exam is unremarkable. His urinalysis is without white blood cells. His white blood cell count is 8,500, and his chest x-ray shows atelectasis without other abnormalities.

What is the most likely cause of this patient’s fever? The research papers cited below suggest what it isn’t and what it might be.

One of the earliest things I was taught in my clinical years were the causes of postoperative fever, or the 5Ws, which are wind, water, wound, walk, and wonder drug.

Atelectasis was touted as the cause of early postoperative fever. This became clear fact in my medical student mind, not something that I had ever questioned.  But investigation into whether there is evidence of this shows it is only a myth. In actuality, there is scant evidence, if any, for atelectasis causing fever. Frequently, no cause of postoperative fever has been found, despite aggressive attempts to look for one.

What the research says

Fanning and colleagues prospectively looked at 537 women who were undergoing major gynecologic surgery.¹ Postoperative fever occurred in 211 of them. In 92% of these patients, no cause for fever was found.

Atelectasis is frequently seen postoperatively. Schlenker and colleagues reported that, in patients with postoperative atelectasis, temperature elevation on the first postoperative day was directly related to the degree of atelectasis, but the white blood cell count elevation was inversely related.²

In this study, atelectasis was diagnosed by auscultation, with chest x-rays ordered at the discretion of the physician. There was little correlation with the auscultatory findings and presence or absence of atelectasis in the patients who did receive chest x-rays.

Engoren did a study to prospectively evaluate 100 postoperative patients with daily chest x-rays and continuous temperature monitoring.³ Results from the day of surgery (day 0) to the second postoperative day showed an increase in presence of atelectasis from 43% on the day of surgery to 79% by day 2.

Fever, defined as temperature greater than 38° C, fell from 37% on the day of surgery to 17% by day 2. Engoren found no association between fever and degree of atelectasis.

Mavros and colleagues did a comprehensive review to determine whether there was evidence to support atelectasis causing fever.⁴ They concluded that there was no clinical evidence supporting the concept that atelectasis is associated with early postoperative fever.
 

A possible cause of fever

Mavros and colleagues’ paper suggested that early postoperative fever was caused by stress derived by surgery, which can increase the patient’s interleukin-6 levels and thermostatic set point. This was demonstrated in a small study by Wortel and colleagues, who measured IL-6 levels in the portal and peripheral blood of patients following pancreaticoduodenectomy.⁵ They found IL-6 levels correlated strongly with peak body temperature.

In conclusion, atelectasis is not a well-established cause of postoperative fever.

Dr. Paauw is professor of medicine in the division of general internal medicine at the University of Washington, Seattle, and he serves as third-year medical student clerkship director at the University of Washington. He is a member of the editorial advisory board of Internal Medicine News. Dr. Paauw has no conflicts to disclose. Contact him at imnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Fanning J et al. Infect Dis Obstet Gynecol. 1998; 6(6):252-5 .

2. Schlenker JD and Hubay CA. Arch Surg 1973;107:846-50

3. Engoren M. Chest. 1995;107(1):81-4 .

4. Michael N et al. Chest. 2011;140(2):418-24

5. Wortel CH et al. Surgery. 1993;114(3):564-70 .

A 64-year-old White woman with very few medical problems complains of bug bites. She had seen no bugs and had no visible bites. There is no rash. “So what bit me?” she asked, pulling her mask down for emphasis. How should I know? I thought, but didn’t say. She and I have been through this many times.

Before I could respond, she filled the pause with her usual complaints including how hard it is to get an appointment with me and how every appointment with me is a waste of her time. Ignoring the contradistinction of her charges, I took some satisfaction realizing she has just given me a topic to write about: The hateful patient.

Hateful patients are not diagnostic dilemmas, they are the patients whose name on your schedule evokes fury. They are frustrating, troublesome, rude, sometimes racist, misogynistic, depressing, hopeless, and disheartening. They call you, email you, and come to see you just to annoy you (so it seems). And they’re everywhere. According to one study, nearly one in six are “difficult patients.” It feels like more lately because the vaccine has brought haters back into clinic, just to get us.

But hateful patients aren’t new. In 1978, James E. Groves, MD, a Harvard psychiatrist, wrote a now-classic New England Journal of Medicine article about them called: Taking Care of the Hateful Patient. Even Osler, back in 1889, covered these patients in his lecture to University of Pennsylvania students, advising us to “deal gently with this deliciously credulous old human nature in which we work ... restrain your indignation.” But like much of Osler’s advice, it is easier said than done.

Dr. Groves is more helpful, and presents a model to understand them. Difficult patients, as we’d now call them, fall into four stereotypes: dependent clingers, entitled demanders, manipulative help-rejectors, and self-destructive deniers. It’s Dr. Groves’s bottom line I found insightful. He says that, when patients create negative feelings in us, we’re more likely to make errors. He then gives sound advice: Set firm boundaries and learn to counter the countertransference these patients provoke. Don’t disavow or discharge, Dr. Groves advises, redirect these emotions to motivate you to dig deeper. There you’ll find clinical data that will facilitate understanding and enable better patient management. Yes, easier said.

In addition to Dr. Groves’s analysis of how we harm these patients, I’d add that these disagreeable, malingering patients also harm us doctors. The hangover from a difficult patient encounter can linger for several appointments later or, worse, carryover to home. And now with patient emails proliferating, demanding patients behave as if we have an inexhaustible ability to engage them. We don’t. Many physicians are struggling to care at all; their low empathy battery warnings are blinking red, less than 1% remaining.

What is toxic to us doctors is the maelstrom of cognitive dissonance these patients create in us. Have you ever felt relief to learn a difficult patient has “finally” died? How could we think such a thing?! Didn’t we choose medicine instead of Wall Street because we care about people? But manipulative patients can make us care less. We even use secret language with each other to protect ourselves from them, those GOMERs (get out of my emergency room), bouncebacks, patients with status dramaticus, and those ornery FTDs (failure to die). Save yourself, we say to each other, this patient will kill you.

Caring for my somatizing 64-year-old patient has been difficult, but writing this has helped me reframe our interaction. Unsurprisingly, at the end of her failed visit she asked when she could see me again. “I need to schedule now because I have to find a neighbor to watch my dogs. It takes two buses to come here and I can’t take them with me.” Ah, there’s the clinical data Dr. Groves said I’d find – she’s not here to hurt me, she’s here because I’m all she’s got. At least for this difficult patient, I have a plan. At the bottom of my note I type “RTC 3 mo.”

Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

A 64-year-old White woman with very few medical problems complains of bug bites. She had seen no bugs and had no visible bites. There is no rash. “So what bit me?” she asked, pulling her mask down for emphasis. How should I know? I thought, but didn’t say. She and I have been through this many times.

Before I could respond, she filled the pause with her usual complaints including how hard it is to get an appointment with me and how every appointment with me is a waste of her time. Ignoring the contradistinction of her charges, I took some satisfaction realizing she has just given me a topic to write about: The hateful patient.

Hateful patients are not diagnostic dilemmas, they are the patients whose name on your schedule evokes fury. They are frustrating, troublesome, rude, sometimes racist, misogynistic, depressing, hopeless, and disheartening. They call you, email you, and come to see you just to annoy you (so it seems). And they’re everywhere. According to one study, nearly one in six are “difficult patients.” It feels like more lately because the vaccine has brought haters back into clinic, just to get us.

But hateful patients aren’t new. In 1978, James E. Groves, MD, a Harvard psychiatrist, wrote a now-classic New England Journal of Medicine article about them called: Taking Care of the Hateful Patient. Even Osler, back in 1889, covered these patients in his lecture to University of Pennsylvania students, advising us to “deal gently with this deliciously credulous old human nature in which we work ... restrain your indignation.” But like much of Osler’s advice, it is easier said than done.

Dr. Groves is more helpful, and presents a model to understand them. Difficult patients, as we’d now call them, fall into four stereotypes: dependent clingers, entitled demanders, manipulative help-rejectors, and self-destructive deniers. It’s Dr. Groves’s bottom line I found insightful. He says that, when patients create negative feelings in us, we’re more likely to make errors. He then gives sound advice: Set firm boundaries and learn to counter the countertransference these patients provoke. Don’t disavow or discharge, Dr. Groves advises, redirect these emotions to motivate you to dig deeper. There you’ll find clinical data that will facilitate understanding and enable better patient management. Yes, easier said.

In addition to Dr. Groves’s analysis of how we harm these patients, I’d add that these disagreeable, malingering patients also harm us doctors. The hangover from a difficult patient encounter can linger for several appointments later or, worse, carryover to home. And now with patient emails proliferating, demanding patients behave as if we have an inexhaustible ability to engage them. We don’t. Many physicians are struggling to care at all; their low empathy battery warnings are blinking red, less than 1% remaining.

What is toxic to us doctors is the maelstrom of cognitive dissonance these patients create in us. Have you ever felt relief to learn a difficult patient has “finally” died? How could we think such a thing?! Didn’t we choose medicine instead of Wall Street because we care about people? But manipulative patients can make us care less. We even use secret language with each other to protect ourselves from them, those GOMERs (get out of my emergency room), bouncebacks, patients with status dramaticus, and those ornery FTDs (failure to die). Save yourself, we say to each other, this patient will kill you.

Caring for my somatizing 64-year-old patient has been difficult, but writing this has helped me reframe our interaction. Unsurprisingly, at the end of her failed visit she asked when she could see me again. “I need to schedule now because I have to find a neighbor to watch my dogs. It takes two buses to come here and I can’t take them with me.” Ah, there’s the clinical data Dr. Groves said I’d find – she’s not here to hurt me, she’s here because I’m all she’s got. At least for this difficult patient, I have a plan. At the bottom of my note I type “RTC 3 mo.”

Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

A 64-year-old White woman with very few medical problems complains of bug bites. She had seen no bugs and had no visible bites. There is no rash. “So what bit me?” she asked, pulling her mask down for emphasis. How should I know? I thought, but didn’t say. She and I have been through this many times.

Before I could respond, she filled the pause with her usual complaints including how hard it is to get an appointment with me and how every appointment with me is a waste of her time. Ignoring the contradistinction of her charges, I took some satisfaction realizing she has just given me a topic to write about: The hateful patient.

Hateful patients are not diagnostic dilemmas, they are the patients whose name on your schedule evokes fury. They are frustrating, troublesome, rude, sometimes racist, misogynistic, depressing, hopeless, and disheartening. They call you, email you, and come to see you just to annoy you (so it seems). And they’re everywhere. According to one study, nearly one in six are “difficult patients.” It feels like more lately because the vaccine has brought haters back into clinic, just to get us.

But hateful patients aren’t new. In 1978, James E. Groves, MD, a Harvard psychiatrist, wrote a now-classic New England Journal of Medicine article about them called: Taking Care of the Hateful Patient. Even Osler, back in 1889, covered these patients in his lecture to University of Pennsylvania students, advising us to “deal gently with this deliciously credulous old human nature in which we work ... restrain your indignation.” But like much of Osler’s advice, it is easier said than done.

Dr. Groves is more helpful, and presents a model to understand them. Difficult patients, as we’d now call them, fall into four stereotypes: dependent clingers, entitled demanders, manipulative help-rejectors, and self-destructive deniers. It’s Dr. Groves’s bottom line I found insightful. He says that, when patients create negative feelings in us, we’re more likely to make errors. He then gives sound advice: Set firm boundaries and learn to counter the countertransference these patients provoke. Don’t disavow or discharge, Dr. Groves advises, redirect these emotions to motivate you to dig deeper. There you’ll find clinical data that will facilitate understanding and enable better patient management. Yes, easier said.

In addition to Dr. Groves’s analysis of how we harm these patients, I’d add that these disagreeable, malingering patients also harm us doctors. The hangover from a difficult patient encounter can linger for several appointments later or, worse, carryover to home. And now with patient emails proliferating, demanding patients behave as if we have an inexhaustible ability to engage them. We don’t. Many physicians are struggling to care at all; their low empathy battery warnings are blinking red, less than 1% remaining.

What is toxic to us doctors is the maelstrom of cognitive dissonance these patients create in us. Have you ever felt relief to learn a difficult patient has “finally” died? How could we think such a thing?! Didn’t we choose medicine instead of Wall Street because we care about people? But manipulative patients can make us care less. We even use secret language with each other to protect ourselves from them, those GOMERs (get out of my emergency room), bouncebacks, patients with status dramaticus, and those ornery FTDs (failure to die). Save yourself, we say to each other, this patient will kill you.

Caring for my somatizing 64-year-old patient has been difficult, but writing this has helped me reframe our interaction. Unsurprisingly, at the end of her failed visit she asked when she could see me again. “I need to schedule now because I have to find a neighbor to watch my dogs. It takes two buses to come here and I can’t take them with me.” Ah, there’s the clinical data Dr. Groves said I’d find – she’s not here to hurt me, she’s here because I’m all she’s got. At least for this difficult patient, I have a plan. At the bottom of my note I type “RTC 3 mo.”

Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

The use of dragon’s blood is renowned among various medical traditions around the world.^1,2 It is known to confer anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, antitumor, antimicrobial, and wound healing benefits, among others. Dragon’s blood and its characteristic red sap has also been used in folk magic and as a coloring substance and varnish.¹ In addition, dragon’s blood resin is one of the many botanical agents with roots in traditional medicine that are among the bioactive ingredients used in the booming contemporary Korean cosmeceutical agent market.³This column will address some of the recent research on the cutaneous benefits of dragon’s blood resin obtained from several species of plants.

Rod/Moment

Many plants, only some have dermatologic properties

Essentially, the moniker “dragon’s blood” describes the deep red resin or sap that has been derived from multiple plant sources – primarily from the genera Daemonorops, Dracaena, Croton, and Pterocarpus – over multiple centuries.^2,4 In traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), various plants have been used as dragon’s blood, including Butea monosperma, Liquidambar formosana, Daemonorops draco, and, more commonly now, Dracaena cochinchinensis.⁵

Chemical constituents and activity

Dragon’s blood represents the red exudate culled from 27 species of plants from four families. Among the six Dracaena plants (D. cochinchinensis, D. cambodiana, D. cinnabari, D. draco, D. loureiroi, and D. schizantha) from which dragon’s blood is derived, flavonoids and their oligomers are considered the main active constituents. Analgesic, anti-inflammatory, antibacterial, hypolipidemic, hypoglycemic, and cytotoxic activities have been associated with these botanicals.⁶

D. cochinchinensis is one source of the ethnomedicine “dragon’s blood” that has long been used in TCM. Contemporary studies have shown that the resin of D. cochinchinensis – key constituents of which include loureirin A, loureirin B, loureirin C, cochinchinenin, socotrin-4’-ol, 4’,7-dihydroxyflavan, 4-methylcholest-7-ene-3-ol, ethylparaben, resveratrol, and hydroxyphenol – exhibits antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, analgesic, antidiabetic, and antitumor activities. It has also been shown to support skin repair.4

In 2017, Wang et al. reported that flavonoids from artificially induced dragon’s blood of D. cambodiana showed antibacterial properties.⁷ The next year, Al Fatimi reported that the dragon’s blood derived from D. cinnabari is a key plant on Yemen’s Socotra Island, where it is used for its antifungal and antioxidant properties to treat various dermal, dental, eye, and gastrointestinal diseases in humans.⁸Croton lechleri (also one of the plants known as dragon’s blood), a medicinal plant found in the Amazon rainforest and characterized by its red sap, has been shown in preclinical studies to display anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, antimicrobial, antifungal, and antineoplastic activity. Pona et al. note that, while clinical studies of C. lechleri suggest wound healing and antiviral effects, the current use of this plant has limited cutaneous applications.⁹

Wound healing activity

In 1995, Pieters et al. performed an in vivo study on rats to assess the wound healing activity of dragon’s blood (Croton spp.) from South America. In comparing the effects with those of synthetic proanthocyanidins, the researchers verified the beneficial impact of dragon’s blood in stimulating wound contraction, crust formation, new collagen development, and epithelial layer regeneration. The dragon’s blood component 3’,4-O-dimethylcedrusin was also found to enhance healing by promoting fibroblast and collagen formation, though it was not as effective as crude dragon’s blood. The authors ascribed this effect to the proanthocyanidins in the plant.¹⁰

Late in 2003, Jones published a literature review on the evidence related to Croton lechleri (known in South America as “sangre de drago” or dragon’s blood) in support of various biological effects, particularly anti-inflammatory and wound healing capability. The results from multiple in vitro and in vivo investigations buttressed previous ethnomedical justifications for the use of dragon’s blood to treat herpes, insect bites, stomach ulcers, tumors, wounds, and diarrhea, as well as other conditions. Jones added that the sap of the plant has exhibited low toxicity and has been well tolerated in clinical studies.¹¹

In 2012, Hu et al. investigated the impact of dragon’s blood powder with varying grain size on the transdermal absorption and adhesion of ZJHX paste, finding that, with decreasing grain size, penetration of dracorhodin increased, thus promoting transdermal permeability and adhesion.¹²

Lieu et al. assessed the wound healing potential of Resina Draconis, derived from D. cochinchinensis, which has long been used in traditional medicines by various cultures. In this 2013 evaluation, the investigators substantiated the traditional uses of this herb for wound healing, using excision and incision models in rats. Animals treated with D. cochinchinensis resin displayed significantly superior wound contraction and tensile strength as compared with controls, with histopathological results revealing better microvessel density and growth factor expression levels.¹³

In 2017, Jiang et al. showed that dracorhodin percolate, derived from dragon’s blood and used extensively to treat wound healing in TCM, accelerated wound healing in Wistar rats.¹⁴ A year later, they found that the use of dracorhodin perchlorate was effective in regulating fibroblast proliferation in vitro and in vivo to promote wound healing in rats. In addition, they noted that phosphorylated–extracellular signal-regulated kinase (ERK) in the wound tissue significantly increased with treatment of dracorhodin perchlorate ointment. The researchers called for clinical trials testing this compound in humans as the next step.¹⁵

In 2015, Namjoyan et al. conducted a randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical trial in 60 patients (between 14 and 65 years old) to assess the wound healing effect of a dragon’s blood cream on skin tag removal. Patients were visited every third day during this 3-week study, after which a significant difference in mean wound healing duration was identified. The investigators attributed the accelerated wound healing action to the phenolic constituents and alkaloid taspine in the resin. They also concluded that dragon’s blood warrants inclusion in the wound healing arsenal, while calling for studies in larger populations.¹⁶

Conclusion

The red resin extracts of multiple species of plants have and continue to be identified as “dragon’s blood.” This exudate has been used for various medical indications in traditional medicine for several centuries. Despite this lengthy history, modern research is hardly robust. Nevertheless, there are many credible reports of significant salutary activities associated with these resins and some evidence of cutaneous benefits. Much more research is necessary to determine how useful these ingredients are, despite their present use in a number of marketed cosmeceutical agents.

Dr. Baumann is a private practice dermatologist, researcher, author, and entrepreneur who practices in Miami. She founded the Cosmetic Dermatology Center at the University of Miami in 1997. Dr. Baumann has written two textbooks and a New York Times Best Sellers book for consumers. Dr. Baumann has received funding for advisory boards and/or clinical research trials from Allergan, Galderma, Revance, Evolus, and Burt’s Bees. She is the CEO of Skin Type Solutions Inc., a company that independently tests skin care products and makes recommendations to physicians on which skin care technologies are best. Write to her at dermnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Gupta D et al. J Ethnopharmacol. 2008 Feb 12;115(3):361-80.

2. Jura-Morawiec J & Tulik. Chemoecology. 2016;26:101-5.

3. Nguyen JK et al. J Cosmet Dermatol. 2020 Jul;19(7):155-69.

4. Fan JY et al. Molecules. 2014 Jul 22;19(7):10650-69.

5. Zhang W et al. Zhongguo Zhong Yao Za Zhi. 2016 Apr;41(7):1354-7.

6. Sun J et al. J Ethnopharmacol. 2019 Nov 15;244:112138.

7. Wang H et al. Fitoterapia. 2017 Sep;121:1-5.

8. Al-Fatimi M. Plants (Basel). 2018 Oct 26;7(4):91.

9. Pona A et al. Dermatol Ther. 2019 Mar;32(2):e12786.10. Pieters L et al. Phytomedicine. 1995 Jul;2(1):17-22.

11. Jones K. J Altern Complement Med. 2003 Dec;9(6):877-96.

12. Hu Q et al. Zhongguo Zhong Yao Za Zhi. 2012 Dec;37(23):3549-53.

13. Liu H et al. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2013;2013:709865.

14. Jiang XW et al. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2017:8950516.

15. Jiang X et al. J Pharmacol Sci. 2018 Feb;136(2):66-72.

16. Namjoyan F et al. J Tradit Complement Med. 2015 Jan 22;6(1):37-40.

The use of dragon’s blood is renowned among various medical traditions around the world.^1,2 It is known to confer anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, antitumor, antimicrobial, and wound healing benefits, among others. Dragon’s blood and its characteristic red sap has also been used in folk magic and as a coloring substance and varnish.¹ In addition, dragon’s blood resin is one of the many botanical agents with roots in traditional medicine that are among the bioactive ingredients used in the booming contemporary Korean cosmeceutical agent market.³This column will address some of the recent research on the cutaneous benefits of dragon’s blood resin obtained from several species of plants.

Rod/Moment

Many plants, only some have dermatologic properties

Essentially, the moniker “dragon’s blood” describes the deep red resin or sap that has been derived from multiple plant sources – primarily from the genera Daemonorops, Dracaena, Croton, and Pterocarpus – over multiple centuries.^2,4 In traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), various plants have been used as dragon’s blood, including Butea monosperma, Liquidambar formosana, Daemonorops draco, and, more commonly now, Dracaena cochinchinensis.⁵

Chemical constituents and activity

Dragon’s blood represents the red exudate culled from 27 species of plants from four families. Among the six Dracaena plants (D. cochinchinensis, D. cambodiana, D. cinnabari, D. draco, D. loureiroi, and D. schizantha) from which dragon’s blood is derived, flavonoids and their oligomers are considered the main active constituents. Analgesic, anti-inflammatory, antibacterial, hypolipidemic, hypoglycemic, and cytotoxic activities have been associated with these botanicals.⁶

D. cochinchinensis is one source of the ethnomedicine “dragon’s blood” that has long been used in TCM. Contemporary studies have shown that the resin of D. cochinchinensis – key constituents of which include loureirin A, loureirin B, loureirin C, cochinchinenin, socotrin-4’-ol, 4’,7-dihydroxyflavan, 4-methylcholest-7-ene-3-ol, ethylparaben, resveratrol, and hydroxyphenol – exhibits antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, analgesic, antidiabetic, and antitumor activities. It has also been shown to support skin repair.4

In 2017, Wang et al. reported that flavonoids from artificially induced dragon’s blood of D. cambodiana showed antibacterial properties.⁷ The next year, Al Fatimi reported that the dragon’s blood derived from D. cinnabari is a key plant on Yemen’s Socotra Island, where it is used for its antifungal and antioxidant properties to treat various dermal, dental, eye, and gastrointestinal diseases in humans.⁸Croton lechleri (also one of the plants known as dragon’s blood), a medicinal plant found in the Amazon rainforest and characterized by its red sap, has been shown in preclinical studies to display anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, antimicrobial, antifungal, and antineoplastic activity. Pona et al. note that, while clinical studies of C. lechleri suggest wound healing and antiviral effects, the current use of this plant has limited cutaneous applications.⁹

Wound healing activity

In 1995, Pieters et al. performed an in vivo study on rats to assess the wound healing activity of dragon’s blood (Croton spp.) from South America. In comparing the effects with those of synthetic proanthocyanidins, the researchers verified the beneficial impact of dragon’s blood in stimulating wound contraction, crust formation, new collagen development, and epithelial layer regeneration. The dragon’s blood component 3’,4-O-dimethylcedrusin was also found to enhance healing by promoting fibroblast and collagen formation, though it was not as effective as crude dragon’s blood. The authors ascribed this effect to the proanthocyanidins in the plant.¹⁰

Late in 2003, Jones published a literature review on the evidence related to Croton lechleri (known in South America as “sangre de drago” or dragon’s blood) in support of various biological effects, particularly anti-inflammatory and wound healing capability. The results from multiple in vitro and in vivo investigations buttressed previous ethnomedical justifications for the use of dragon’s blood to treat herpes, insect bites, stomach ulcers, tumors, wounds, and diarrhea, as well as other conditions. Jones added that the sap of the plant has exhibited low toxicity and has been well tolerated in clinical studies.¹¹

In 2012, Hu et al. investigated the impact of dragon’s blood powder with varying grain size on the transdermal absorption and adhesion of ZJHX paste, finding that, with decreasing grain size, penetration of dracorhodin increased, thus promoting transdermal permeability and adhesion.¹²

Lieu et al. assessed the wound healing potential of Resina Draconis, derived from D. cochinchinensis, which has long been used in traditional medicines by various cultures. In this 2013 evaluation, the investigators substantiated the traditional uses of this herb for wound healing, using excision and incision models in rats. Animals treated with D. cochinchinensis resin displayed significantly superior wound contraction and tensile strength as compared with controls, with histopathological results revealing better microvessel density and growth factor expression levels.¹³

In 2017, Jiang et al. showed that dracorhodin percolate, derived from dragon’s blood and used extensively to treat wound healing in TCM, accelerated wound healing in Wistar rats.¹⁴ A year later, they found that the use of dracorhodin perchlorate was effective in regulating fibroblast proliferation in vitro and in vivo to promote wound healing in rats. In addition, they noted that phosphorylated–extracellular signal-regulated kinase (ERK) in the wound tissue significantly increased with treatment of dracorhodin perchlorate ointment. The researchers called for clinical trials testing this compound in humans as the next step.¹⁵

In 2015, Namjoyan et al. conducted a randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical trial in 60 patients (between 14 and 65 years old) to assess the wound healing effect of a dragon’s blood cream on skin tag removal. Patients were visited every third day during this 3-week study, after which a significant difference in mean wound healing duration was identified. The investigators attributed the accelerated wound healing action to the phenolic constituents and alkaloid taspine in the resin. They also concluded that dragon’s blood warrants inclusion in the wound healing arsenal, while calling for studies in larger populations.¹⁶

Conclusion

The red resin extracts of multiple species of plants have and continue to be identified as “dragon’s blood.” This exudate has been used for various medical indications in traditional medicine for several centuries. Despite this lengthy history, modern research is hardly robust. Nevertheless, there are many credible reports of significant salutary activities associated with these resins and some evidence of cutaneous benefits. Much more research is necessary to determine how useful these ingredients are, despite their present use in a number of marketed cosmeceutical agents.

Dr. Baumann is a private practice dermatologist, researcher, author, and entrepreneur who practices in Miami. She founded the Cosmetic Dermatology Center at the University of Miami in 1997. Dr. Baumann has written two textbooks and a New York Times Best Sellers book for consumers. Dr. Baumann has received funding for advisory boards and/or clinical research trials from Allergan, Galderma, Revance, Evolus, and Burt’s Bees. She is the CEO of Skin Type Solutions Inc., a company that independently tests skin care products and makes recommendations to physicians on which skin care technologies are best. Write to her at dermnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Gupta D et al. J Ethnopharmacol. 2008 Feb 12;115(3):361-80.

2. Jura-Morawiec J & Tulik. Chemoecology. 2016;26:101-5.

3. Nguyen JK et al. J Cosmet Dermatol. 2020 Jul;19(7):155-69.

4. Fan JY et al. Molecules. 2014 Jul 22;19(7):10650-69.

5. Zhang W et al. Zhongguo Zhong Yao Za Zhi. 2016 Apr;41(7):1354-7.

6. Sun J et al. J Ethnopharmacol. 2019 Nov 15;244:112138.

7. Wang H et al. Fitoterapia. 2017 Sep;121:1-5.

8. Al-Fatimi M. Plants (Basel). 2018 Oct 26;7(4):91.

9. Pona A et al. Dermatol Ther. 2019 Mar;32(2):e12786.10. Pieters L et al. Phytomedicine. 1995 Jul;2(1):17-22.

11. Jones K. J Altern Complement Med. 2003 Dec;9(6):877-96.

12. Hu Q et al. Zhongguo Zhong Yao Za Zhi. 2012 Dec;37(23):3549-53.

13. Liu H et al. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2013;2013:709865.

14. Jiang XW et al. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2017:8950516.

15. Jiang X et al. J Pharmacol Sci. 2018 Feb;136(2):66-72.

16. Namjoyan F et al. J Tradit Complement Med. 2015 Jan 22;6(1):37-40.

The use of dragon’s blood is renowned among various medical traditions around the world.^1,2 It is known to confer anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, antitumor, antimicrobial, and wound healing benefits, among others. Dragon’s blood and its characteristic red sap has also been used in folk magic and as a coloring substance and varnish.¹ In addition, dragon’s blood resin is one of the many botanical agents with roots in traditional medicine that are among the bioactive ingredients used in the booming contemporary Korean cosmeceutical agent market.³This column will address some of the recent research on the cutaneous benefits of dragon’s blood resin obtained from several species of plants.

Rod/Moment

Many plants, only some have dermatologic properties

Essentially, the moniker “dragon’s blood” describes the deep red resin or sap that has been derived from multiple plant sources – primarily from the genera Daemonorops, Dracaena, Croton, and Pterocarpus – over multiple centuries.^2,4 In traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), various plants have been used as dragon’s blood, including Butea monosperma, Liquidambar formosana, Daemonorops draco, and, more commonly now, Dracaena cochinchinensis.⁵

Chemical constituents and activity

Dragon’s blood represents the red exudate culled from 27 species of plants from four families. Among the six Dracaena plants (D. cochinchinensis, D. cambodiana, D. cinnabari, D. draco, D. loureiroi, and D. schizantha) from which dragon’s blood is derived, flavonoids and their oligomers are considered the main active constituents. Analgesic, anti-inflammatory, antibacterial, hypolipidemic, hypoglycemic, and cytotoxic activities have been associated with these botanicals.⁶

D. cochinchinensis is one source of the ethnomedicine “dragon’s blood” that has long been used in TCM. Contemporary studies have shown that the resin of D. cochinchinensis – key constituents of which include loureirin A, loureirin B, loureirin C, cochinchinenin, socotrin-4’-ol, 4’,7-dihydroxyflavan, 4-methylcholest-7-ene-3-ol, ethylparaben, resveratrol, and hydroxyphenol – exhibits antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, analgesic, antidiabetic, and antitumor activities. It has also been shown to support skin repair.4

In 2017, Wang et al. reported that flavonoids from artificially induced dragon’s blood of D. cambodiana showed antibacterial properties.⁷ The next year, Al Fatimi reported that the dragon’s blood derived from D. cinnabari is a key plant on Yemen’s Socotra Island, where it is used for its antifungal and antioxidant properties to treat various dermal, dental, eye, and gastrointestinal diseases in humans.⁸Croton lechleri (also one of the plants known as dragon’s blood), a medicinal plant found in the Amazon rainforest and characterized by its red sap, has been shown in preclinical studies to display anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, antimicrobial, antifungal, and antineoplastic activity. Pona et al. note that, while clinical studies of C. lechleri suggest wound healing and antiviral effects, the current use of this plant has limited cutaneous applications.⁹

Wound healing activity

In 1995, Pieters et al. performed an in vivo study on rats to assess the wound healing activity of dragon’s blood (Croton spp.) from South America. In comparing the effects with those of synthetic proanthocyanidins, the researchers verified the beneficial impact of dragon’s blood in stimulating wound contraction, crust formation, new collagen development, and epithelial layer regeneration. The dragon’s blood component 3’,4-O-dimethylcedrusin was also found to enhance healing by promoting fibroblast and collagen formation, though it was not as effective as crude dragon’s blood. The authors ascribed this effect to the proanthocyanidins in the plant.¹⁰

Late in 2003, Jones published a literature review on the evidence related to Croton lechleri (known in South America as “sangre de drago” or dragon’s blood) in support of various biological effects, particularly anti-inflammatory and wound healing capability. The results from multiple in vitro and in vivo investigations buttressed previous ethnomedical justifications for the use of dragon’s blood to treat herpes, insect bites, stomach ulcers, tumors, wounds, and diarrhea, as well as other conditions. Jones added that the sap of the plant has exhibited low toxicity and has been well tolerated in clinical studies.¹¹

In 2012, Hu et al. investigated the impact of dragon’s blood powder with varying grain size on the transdermal absorption and adhesion of ZJHX paste, finding that, with decreasing grain size, penetration of dracorhodin increased, thus promoting transdermal permeability and adhesion.¹²

Lieu et al. assessed the wound healing potential of Resina Draconis, derived from D. cochinchinensis, which has long been used in traditional medicines by various cultures. In this 2013 evaluation, the investigators substantiated the traditional uses of this herb for wound healing, using excision and incision models in rats. Animals treated with D. cochinchinensis resin displayed significantly superior wound contraction and tensile strength as compared with controls, with histopathological results revealing better microvessel density and growth factor expression levels.¹³

In 2017, Jiang et al. showed that dracorhodin percolate, derived from dragon’s blood and used extensively to treat wound healing in TCM, accelerated wound healing in Wistar rats.¹⁴ A year later, they found that the use of dracorhodin perchlorate was effective in regulating fibroblast proliferation in vitro and in vivo to promote wound healing in rats. In addition, they noted that phosphorylated–extracellular signal-regulated kinase (ERK) in the wound tissue significantly increased with treatment of dracorhodin perchlorate ointment. The researchers called for clinical trials testing this compound in humans as the next step.¹⁵

In 2015, Namjoyan et al. conducted a randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical trial in 60 patients (between 14 and 65 years old) to assess the wound healing effect of a dragon’s blood cream on skin tag removal. Patients were visited every third day during this 3-week study, after which a significant difference in mean wound healing duration was identified. The investigators attributed the accelerated wound healing action to the phenolic constituents and alkaloid taspine in the resin. They also concluded that dragon’s blood warrants inclusion in the wound healing arsenal, while calling for studies in larger populations.¹⁶

Conclusion

The red resin extracts of multiple species of plants have and continue to be identified as “dragon’s blood.” This exudate has been used for various medical indications in traditional medicine for several centuries. Despite this lengthy history, modern research is hardly robust. Nevertheless, there are many credible reports of significant salutary activities associated with these resins and some evidence of cutaneous benefits. Much more research is necessary to determine how useful these ingredients are, despite their present use in a number of marketed cosmeceutical agents.

Dr. Baumann is a private practice dermatologist, researcher, author, and entrepreneur who practices in Miami. She founded the Cosmetic Dermatology Center at the University of Miami in 1997. Dr. Baumann has written two textbooks and a New York Times Best Sellers book for consumers. Dr. Baumann has received funding for advisory boards and/or clinical research trials from Allergan, Galderma, Revance, Evolus, and Burt’s Bees. She is the CEO of Skin Type Solutions Inc., a company that independently tests skin care products and makes recommendations to physicians on which skin care technologies are best. Write to her at dermnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Gupta D et al. J Ethnopharmacol. 2008 Feb 12;115(3):361-80.

2. Jura-Morawiec J & Tulik. Chemoecology. 2016;26:101-5.

3. Nguyen JK et al. J Cosmet Dermatol. 2020 Jul;19(7):155-69.

4. Fan JY et al. Molecules. 2014 Jul 22;19(7):10650-69.

5. Zhang W et al. Zhongguo Zhong Yao Za Zhi. 2016 Apr;41(7):1354-7.

6. Sun J et al. J Ethnopharmacol. 2019 Nov 15;244:112138.

7. Wang H et al. Fitoterapia. 2017 Sep;121:1-5.

8. Al-Fatimi M. Plants (Basel). 2018 Oct 26;7(4):91.

9. Pona A et al. Dermatol Ther. 2019 Mar;32(2):e12786.10. Pieters L et al. Phytomedicine. 1995 Jul;2(1):17-22.

11. Jones K. J Altern Complement Med. 2003 Dec;9(6):877-96.

12. Hu Q et al. Zhongguo Zhong Yao Za Zhi. 2012 Dec;37(23):3549-53.

13. Liu H et al. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2013;2013:709865.

14. Jiang XW et al. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2017:8950516.

15. Jiang X et al. J Pharmacol Sci. 2018 Feb;136(2):66-72.

16. Namjoyan F et al. J Tradit Complement Med. 2015 Jan 22;6(1):37-40.

After the teledermatology consultation, an x-ray was recommended. The x-ray showed an elongated irregular radiopaque mass projecting from the anterior medial aspect of the midshaft of the distal phalanx of the great toe (Picture 3). With these findings, subungual exostosis was suspected, and she was referred to orthopedic surgery for excision of the lesion. Histopathology showed a stack of trabecular bone with a fibrocartilaginous cap, confirming the diagnosis of subungual exostosis.

Courtesy Dr. Puong To, Southern California Medical Group

Subungual exostosis is a benign osteocartilaginous tumor, first described by Dupuytren in 1874. These lesions are rare and are seen mainly in children and young adults. Females appear to be affected more often than males.¹ In a systematic review by DaCambra and colleagues, 55% of the cases occur in patients aged younger than 18 years, and the hallux was the most commonly affected digit, though any finger or toe can be affected.² There are reported case of congenital multiple exostosis delineated to translocation t(X;6)(q22;q13-14).³

The exact cause of these lesions is unknown, but there are multiple theories, which include a reactive process secondary to trauma, infection, or genetic causes. Pathologic examination of the lesions shows an osseous center covered by a fibrocartilaginous cap. There is proliferation of spindle cells that generate cartilage, which later forms trabecular bone.⁴

On physical examination, subungual exostosis appear like a firm, fixed nodule with a hyperkeratotic smooth surface at the distal end of the nail bed, that slowly grows and can distort and lift up the nail. Dermoscopy features of these lesions include vascular ectasia, hyperkeratosis, onycholysis, and ulceration.

The differential diagnosis of subungual growths includes osteochondromas, which can present in a similar way but are rarer. Pathologic examination is usually required to differentiate between both lesions.⁵ In exostoses, bone is formed directly from fibrous tissue, whereas in osteochondromas they derive from enchondral ossification.⁶ The cartilaginous cap of this lesion is what helps to differentiate it in histopathology. In subungual exostosis, the cap is composed of fibrocartilage, while in osteochondromas it is made of hyaline cartilage similar to what is seen in normal growing epiphysis.⁵ Subungual exostosis can be confused with pyogenic granulomas and verruca, and often are treated as such, which delays appropriate surgical management.

Firm, slow-growing tumors in the fingers or toes of children should raise suspicion for underlying bony lesions like subungual exostosis and osteochondromas. X-rays of the lesion should be performed in order to clarify the diagnosis. Referral to orthopedic surgery is needed for definitive surgical management.

Dr. Matiz is a pediatric dermatologist at Southern California Permanente Medical Group, San Diego.

References

1. Zhang W et al. JAAD Case Rep. 2020 Jun 1;6(8):725-6.

2. DaCambra MP et al. Clin Orthop Relat Res. 2014 Apr;472(4):1251-9.

3. Torlazzi C et al. Int J Cancer. 2006;118:1972-6.

4. Calonje E et al. McKee’s pathology of the skin: With clinical correlations. (4th ed.) Philadelphia: Elsevier/Saunders, 2012.

5. Lee SK et al. Foot Ankle Int. 2007 May;28(5):595-601.

6. Mavrogenis A et al. Orthopedics. 2008 Oct;31(10).

After the teledermatology consultation, an x-ray was recommended. The x-ray showed an elongated irregular radiopaque mass projecting from the anterior medial aspect of the midshaft of the distal phalanx of the great toe (Picture 3). With these findings, subungual exostosis was suspected, and she was referred to orthopedic surgery for excision of the lesion. Histopathology showed a stack of trabecular bone with a fibrocartilaginous cap, confirming the diagnosis of subungual exostosis.

Courtesy Dr. Puong To, Southern California Medical Group

Subungual exostosis is a benign osteocartilaginous tumor, first described by Dupuytren in 1874. These lesions are rare and are seen mainly in children and young adults. Females appear to be affected more often than males.¹ In a systematic review by DaCambra and colleagues, 55% of the cases occur in patients aged younger than 18 years, and the hallux was the most commonly affected digit, though any finger or toe can be affected.² There are reported case of congenital multiple exostosis delineated to translocation t(X;6)(q22;q13-14).³

The exact cause of these lesions is unknown, but there are multiple theories, which include a reactive process secondary to trauma, infection, or genetic causes. Pathologic examination of the lesions shows an osseous center covered by a fibrocartilaginous cap. There is proliferation of spindle cells that generate cartilage, which later forms trabecular bone.⁴

On physical examination, subungual exostosis appear like a firm, fixed nodule with a hyperkeratotic smooth surface at the distal end of the nail bed, that slowly grows and can distort and lift up the nail. Dermoscopy features of these lesions include vascular ectasia, hyperkeratosis, onycholysis, and ulceration.

The differential diagnosis of subungual growths includes osteochondromas, which can present in a similar way but are rarer. Pathologic examination is usually required to differentiate between both lesions.⁵ In exostoses, bone is formed directly from fibrous tissue, whereas in osteochondromas they derive from enchondral ossification.⁶ The cartilaginous cap of this lesion is what helps to differentiate it in histopathology. In subungual exostosis, the cap is composed of fibrocartilage, while in osteochondromas it is made of hyaline cartilage similar to what is seen in normal growing epiphysis.⁵ Subungual exostosis can be confused with pyogenic granulomas and verruca, and often are treated as such, which delays appropriate surgical management.

Firm, slow-growing tumors in the fingers or toes of children should raise suspicion for underlying bony lesions like subungual exostosis and osteochondromas. X-rays of the lesion should be performed in order to clarify the diagnosis. Referral to orthopedic surgery is needed for definitive surgical management.

Dr. Matiz is a pediatric dermatologist at Southern California Permanente Medical Group, San Diego.

References

1. Zhang W et al. JAAD Case Rep. 2020 Jun 1;6(8):725-6.

2. DaCambra MP et al. Clin Orthop Relat Res. 2014 Apr;472(4):1251-9.

3. Torlazzi C et al. Int J Cancer. 2006;118:1972-6.

4. Calonje E et al. McKee’s pathology of the skin: With clinical correlations. (4th ed.) Philadelphia: Elsevier/Saunders, 2012.

5. Lee SK et al. Foot Ankle Int. 2007 May;28(5):595-601.

6. Mavrogenis A et al. Orthopedics. 2008 Oct;31(10).

After the teledermatology consultation, an x-ray was recommended. The x-ray showed an elongated irregular radiopaque mass projecting from the anterior medial aspect of the midshaft of the distal phalanx of the great toe (Picture 3). With these findings, subungual exostosis was suspected, and she was referred to orthopedic surgery for excision of the lesion. Histopathology showed a stack of trabecular bone with a fibrocartilaginous cap, confirming the diagnosis of subungual exostosis.

Courtesy Dr. Puong To, Southern California Medical Group

Subungual exostosis is a benign osteocartilaginous tumor, first described by Dupuytren in 1874. These lesions are rare and are seen mainly in children and young adults. Females appear to be affected more often than males.¹ In a systematic review by DaCambra and colleagues, 55% of the cases occur in patients aged younger than 18 years, and the hallux was the most commonly affected digit, though any finger or toe can be affected.² There are reported case of congenital multiple exostosis delineated to translocation t(X;6)(q22;q13-14).³

The exact cause of these lesions is unknown, but there are multiple theories, which include a reactive process secondary to trauma, infection, or genetic causes. Pathologic examination of the lesions shows an osseous center covered by a fibrocartilaginous cap. There is proliferation of spindle cells that generate cartilage, which later forms trabecular bone.⁴

On physical examination, subungual exostosis appear like a firm, fixed nodule with a hyperkeratotic smooth surface at the distal end of the nail bed, that slowly grows and can distort and lift up the nail. Dermoscopy features of these lesions include vascular ectasia, hyperkeratosis, onycholysis, and ulceration.

The differential diagnosis of subungual growths includes osteochondromas, which can present in a similar way but are rarer. Pathologic examination is usually required to differentiate between both lesions.⁵ In exostoses, bone is formed directly from fibrous tissue, whereas in osteochondromas they derive from enchondral ossification.⁶ The cartilaginous cap of this lesion is what helps to differentiate it in histopathology. In subungual exostosis, the cap is composed of fibrocartilage, while in osteochondromas it is made of hyaline cartilage similar to what is seen in normal growing epiphysis.⁵ Subungual exostosis can be confused with pyogenic granulomas and verruca, and often are treated as such, which delays appropriate surgical management.

Firm, slow-growing tumors in the fingers or toes of children should raise suspicion for underlying bony lesions like subungual exostosis and osteochondromas. X-rays of the lesion should be performed in order to clarify the diagnosis. Referral to orthopedic surgery is needed for definitive surgical management.

Dr. Matiz is a pediatric dermatologist at Southern California Permanente Medical Group, San Diego.

References

1. Zhang W et al. JAAD Case Rep. 2020 Jun 1;6(8):725-6.

2. DaCambra MP et al. Clin Orthop Relat Res. 2014 Apr;472(4):1251-9.

3. Torlazzi C et al. Int J Cancer. 2006;118:1972-6.

4. Calonje E et al. McKee’s pathology of the skin: With clinical correlations. (4th ed.) Philadelphia: Elsevier/Saunders, 2012.

5. Lee SK et al. Foot Ankle Int. 2007 May;28(5):595-601.

6. Mavrogenis A et al. Orthopedics. 2008 Oct;31(10).

An overwhelmingly loud and high-pitched screech rattles against your hip. You startle and groan into the pillow as your thoughts settle into conscious awareness. It is 3 a.m. You are a 2nd-year resident trudging through the night shift, alerted to the presence of a new patient awaiting an emergency assessment. You are the only in-house physician. Walking steadfastly toward the emergency unit, you enter and greet the patient. Immediately, you observe a look of surprise followed immediately by a scowl.

You extend a hand, but your greeting is abruptly cut short with: “I want to see a doctor!” You pace your breaths to quell annoyance and resume your introduction, asserting that you are a doctor and indeed the only doctor on duty. After moments of deep sighs and questions regarding your credentials, you persuade the patient to start the interview.

It is now 8 a.m. The frustration of the night starts to ease as you prepare to leave. While gathering your things, a visitor is overheard inquiring the whereabouts of a hospital unit. Volunteering as a guide, you walk the person toward the opposite end of the hospital. Bleary eyed, muscle laxed, and bone weary, you point out the entrance, then turn to leave. The steady rhythm of your steps suddenly halts as you hear from behind: “Thank you! You speak English really well!” Blankly, you stare. Your voice remains mute while your brain screams: “What is that supposed to mean?” But you do not utter a sound, because intuitively, you know the answer.

While reading this scenario, what did you feel? Pride in knowing that the physician was able to successfully navigate a busy night? Relief in the physician’s ability to maintain a professional demeanor despite belittling microaggressions? Are you angry? Would you replay those moments like reruns of a bad TV show? Can you imagine entering your home and collapsing onto the bed as your tears of fury pool over your rumpled sheets?

The emotional release of that morning is seared into my memory. Over the years, I questioned my reactions. Was I too passive? Should I have schooled them on their ignorance? Had I done so, would I have incurred reprimands? Would standing up for myself cause years of hard work to fall away? Moreover, had I defended myself, would I forever have been viewed as “The Angry Black Woman?”

This story is more than a vignette. For me, it is another reminder that, despite how far we have come, we have much further to go. As a Black woman in a professional sphere, I stand upon the shoulders of those who sacrificed for a dream, a greater purpose. My foremothers and forefathers fought bravely and tirelessly so that we could attain levels of success that were only once but a dream. Despite this progress, a grimace, carelessly spoken words, or a mindless gesture remind me that, no matter how much I toil and what levels of success I achieve, when I meet someone for the first time or encounter someone from my past, I find myself wondering whether I am remembered for me or because I am “The Black One.”
 

Honest look at medicine is imperative

It is important to consider multiple facets of the super-doctor myth. We are dedicated, fearless, authoritative, ambitious individuals. We do not yield to sickness, family obligations, or fatigue. Medicine is a calling, and the patient deserves the utmost respect and professional behavior. Impervious to ethnicity, race, nationality, or creed, we are unbiased and always in service of the greater good. Often, however, I wonder how the expectations of patient-focused, patient-centered care can prevail without an honest look at the vicissitudes facing medicine.

We find ourselves amid a tumultuous year overshadowed by a devastating pandemic that skews heavily toward Black and Brown communities, in addition to political turmoil and racial reckoning that sprang forth from fear, anger, and determination ignited by the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd – communities united in outrage lamenting the cries of Black Lives Matter.

I remember the tears briskly falling upon my blouse as I watched Mr. Floyd’s life violently ripped from this Earth. Shortly thereafter, I remember the phone calls, emails, and texts from close friends, acquaintances, and colleagues offering support, listening ears, pledging to learn and endeavoring to understand the struggle for recognition and the fight for human rights. Even so, the deafening support was clouded by the preternatural silence of some medical organizations. Within the Black physician community, outrage was palpable. We reflected upon years of sacrifice and perseverance despite the challenge of bigotry, ignorance, and racism – not only from patients and their families – but also colleagues and administrators. Yet, in our time of horror and need, in those moments of vulnerability ... silence. Eventually, lengthy proclamations of support were expressed through various media. However, it felt too safe, too corporate, and too generic and inauthentic. As a result, an exodus of Black physicians from leadership positions and academic medicine took hold as the blatant continuation of rhetoric – coupled with ineffective outreach and support – finally took its toll.

Frequently, I question how the obstacles of medical school, residency, and beyond are expected to be traversed while living in a world that consistently affords additional challenges to those who look, act, or speak in a manner that varies from the perceived standard. In a culture where the myth of the super doctor reigns, how do we reconcile attainment of a false and detrimental narrative while the overarching pressure acutely felt by Black physicians magnifies in the setting of stereotypes, sociopolitical turbulence, bigotry, and racism? How can one sacrifice for an entity that is unwilling to acknowledge the psychological implications of that sacrifice?

Throughout my medical career, I encountered, personally and remotely, various incidents that emphasize the unique struggles facing Black physicians. For instance, while in medical school, I transitioned my hair to its natural state but was counseled against doing so because of the risk of losing residency opportunities as a direct result of my “unprofessional” appearance. Throughout residency, multiple incidents come to mind, including frequent demands to see my hospital badge despite the same not being of asked of my White cohorts; denial of entry into physician entrance within the residency building because, despite my professional attire, I was presumed to be a member of the custodial staff; and patients being confused and asking for a doctor despite my long white coat and clear introductions.

Furthermore, the fluency of my speech and the absence of regional dialect or vernacular are quite often lauded by patients. Inquiries to touch my hair as well as hypotheses regarding my nationality or degree of “blackness” with respect to the shape of my nose, eyes, and lips are openly questioned. Unfortunately, those uncomfortable incidents have not been limited to patient encounters.

In one instance, while presenting a patient in the presence of my attending and a 3rd-year medical student, I was sternly admonished for disclosing the race of the patient. I sat still and resolute as this doctor spoke on increased risk of bias in diagnosis and treatment when race is identified. Outwardly, I projected patience but inside, I seethed. In that moment, I realized that I would never have the luxury of ignorance or denial. Although I desire to be valued for my prowess in medicine, the mythical status was not created with my skin color in mind. For is avoidance not but a reflection of denial?

In these chaotic and uncertain times, how can we continue to promote a pathological ideal when the roads traveled are so fundamentally skewed? If a White physician faces a belligerent and argumentative patient, there is opportunity for debriefing both individually and among a larger cohort via classes, conferences, and supervisions. Conversely, when a Black physician is derided with racist sentiment, will they have the same opportunity for reflection and support? Despite identical expectations of professionalism and growth, how can one be successful in a system that either directly or indirectly encourages the opposite?

As we try to shed the super-doctor myth, we must recognize that this unattainable and detrimental persona hinders progress. This myth undermines our ability to understand our fragility, the limitations of our capabilities, and the strength of our vulnerability. We must take an honest look at the manner in which our individual biases and the deeply ingrained (and potentially unconscious) systemic biases are counterintuitive to the success and support of physicians of color.

Dr. Thomas is a board-certified adult psychiatrist with an interest in chronic illness, women’s behavioral health, and minority mental health. She currently practices in North Kingstown and East Providence, R.I. She has no conflicts of interest.

An overwhelmingly loud and high-pitched screech rattles against your hip. You startle and groan into the pillow as your thoughts settle into conscious awareness. It is 3 a.m. You are a 2nd-year resident trudging through the night shift, alerted to the presence of a new patient awaiting an emergency assessment. You are the only in-house physician. Walking steadfastly toward the emergency unit, you enter and greet the patient. Immediately, you observe a look of surprise followed immediately by a scowl.

You extend a hand, but your greeting is abruptly cut short with: “I want to see a doctor!” You pace your breaths to quell annoyance and resume your introduction, asserting that you are a doctor and indeed the only doctor on duty. After moments of deep sighs and questions regarding your credentials, you persuade the patient to start the interview.

It is now 8 a.m. The frustration of the night starts to ease as you prepare to leave. While gathering your things, a visitor is overheard inquiring the whereabouts of a hospital unit. Volunteering as a guide, you walk the person toward the opposite end of the hospital. Bleary eyed, muscle laxed, and bone weary, you point out the entrance, then turn to leave. The steady rhythm of your steps suddenly halts as you hear from behind: “Thank you! You speak English really well!” Blankly, you stare. Your voice remains mute while your brain screams: “What is that supposed to mean?” But you do not utter a sound, because intuitively, you know the answer.

While reading this scenario, what did you feel? Pride in knowing that the physician was able to successfully navigate a busy night? Relief in the physician’s ability to maintain a professional demeanor despite belittling microaggressions? Are you angry? Would you replay those moments like reruns of a bad TV show? Can you imagine entering your home and collapsing onto the bed as your tears of fury pool over your rumpled sheets?

The emotional release of that morning is seared into my memory. Over the years, I questioned my reactions. Was I too passive? Should I have schooled them on their ignorance? Had I done so, would I have incurred reprimands? Would standing up for myself cause years of hard work to fall away? Moreover, had I defended myself, would I forever have been viewed as “The Angry Black Woman?”

This story is more than a vignette. For me, it is another reminder that, despite how far we have come, we have much further to go. As a Black woman in a professional sphere, I stand upon the shoulders of those who sacrificed for a dream, a greater purpose. My foremothers and forefathers fought bravely and tirelessly so that we could attain levels of success that were only once but a dream. Despite this progress, a grimace, carelessly spoken words, or a mindless gesture remind me that, no matter how much I toil and what levels of success I achieve, when I meet someone for the first time or encounter someone from my past, I find myself wondering whether I am remembered for me or because I am “The Black One.”
 

Honest look at medicine is imperative

It is important to consider multiple facets of the super-doctor myth. We are dedicated, fearless, authoritative, ambitious individuals. We do not yield to sickness, family obligations, or fatigue. Medicine is a calling, and the patient deserves the utmost respect and professional behavior. Impervious to ethnicity, race, nationality, or creed, we are unbiased and always in service of the greater good. Often, however, I wonder how the expectations of patient-focused, patient-centered care can prevail without an honest look at the vicissitudes facing medicine.

We find ourselves amid a tumultuous year overshadowed by a devastating pandemic that skews heavily toward Black and Brown communities, in addition to political turmoil and racial reckoning that sprang forth from fear, anger, and determination ignited by the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd – communities united in outrage lamenting the cries of Black Lives Matter.

I remember the tears briskly falling upon my blouse as I watched Mr. Floyd’s life violently ripped from this Earth. Shortly thereafter, I remember the phone calls, emails, and texts from close friends, acquaintances, and colleagues offering support, listening ears, pledging to learn and endeavoring to understand the struggle for recognition and the fight for human rights. Even so, the deafening support was clouded by the preternatural silence of some medical organizations. Within the Black physician community, outrage was palpable. We reflected upon years of sacrifice and perseverance despite the challenge of bigotry, ignorance, and racism – not only from patients and their families – but also colleagues and administrators. Yet, in our time of horror and need, in those moments of vulnerability ... silence. Eventually, lengthy proclamations of support were expressed through various media. However, it felt too safe, too corporate, and too generic and inauthentic. As a result, an exodus of Black physicians from leadership positions and academic medicine took hold as the blatant continuation of rhetoric – coupled with ineffective outreach and support – finally took its toll.

Frequently, I question how the obstacles of medical school, residency, and beyond are expected to be traversed while living in a world that consistently affords additional challenges to those who look, act, or speak in a manner that varies from the perceived standard. In a culture where the myth of the super doctor reigns, how do we reconcile attainment of a false and detrimental narrative while the overarching pressure acutely felt by Black physicians magnifies in the setting of stereotypes, sociopolitical turbulence, bigotry, and racism? How can one sacrifice for an entity that is unwilling to acknowledge the psychological implications of that sacrifice?

Throughout my medical career, I encountered, personally and remotely, various incidents that emphasize the unique struggles facing Black physicians. For instance, while in medical school, I transitioned my hair to its natural state but was counseled against doing so because of the risk of losing residency opportunities as a direct result of my “unprofessional” appearance. Throughout residency, multiple incidents come to mind, including frequent demands to see my hospital badge despite the same not being of asked of my White cohorts; denial of entry into physician entrance within the residency building because, despite my professional attire, I was presumed to be a member of the custodial staff; and patients being confused and asking for a doctor despite my long white coat and clear introductions.

Furthermore, the fluency of my speech and the absence of regional dialect or vernacular are quite often lauded by patients. Inquiries to touch my hair as well as hypotheses regarding my nationality or degree of “blackness” with respect to the shape of my nose, eyes, and lips are openly questioned. Unfortunately, those uncomfortable incidents have not been limited to patient encounters.

In one instance, while presenting a patient in the presence of my attending and a 3rd-year medical student, I was sternly admonished for disclosing the race of the patient. I sat still and resolute as this doctor spoke on increased risk of bias in diagnosis and treatment when race is identified. Outwardly, I projected patience but inside, I seethed. In that moment, I realized that I would never have the luxury of ignorance or denial. Although I desire to be valued for my prowess in medicine, the mythical status was not created with my skin color in mind. For is avoidance not but a reflection of denial?

In these chaotic and uncertain times, how can we continue to promote a pathological ideal when the roads traveled are so fundamentally skewed? If a White physician faces a belligerent and argumentative patient, there is opportunity for debriefing both individually and among a larger cohort via classes, conferences, and supervisions. Conversely, when a Black physician is derided with racist sentiment, will they have the same opportunity for reflection and support? Despite identical expectations of professionalism and growth, how can one be successful in a system that either directly or indirectly encourages the opposite?

As we try to shed the super-doctor myth, we must recognize that this unattainable and detrimental persona hinders progress. This myth undermines our ability to understand our fragility, the limitations of our capabilities, and the strength of our vulnerability. We must take an honest look at the manner in which our individual biases and the deeply ingrained (and potentially unconscious) systemic biases are counterintuitive to the success and support of physicians of color.

Dr. Thomas is a board-certified adult psychiatrist with an interest in chronic illness, women’s behavioral health, and minority mental health. She currently practices in North Kingstown and East Providence, R.I. She has no conflicts of interest.

An overwhelmingly loud and high-pitched screech rattles against your hip. You startle and groan into the pillow as your thoughts settle into conscious awareness. It is 3 a.m. You are a 2nd-year resident trudging through the night shift, alerted to the presence of a new patient awaiting an emergency assessment. You are the only in-house physician. Walking steadfastly toward the emergency unit, you enter and greet the patient. Immediately, you observe a look of surprise followed immediately by a scowl.

You extend a hand, but your greeting is abruptly cut short with: “I want to see a doctor!” You pace your breaths to quell annoyance and resume your introduction, asserting that you are a doctor and indeed the only doctor on duty. After moments of deep sighs and questions regarding your credentials, you persuade the patient to start the interview.

It is now 8 a.m. The frustration of the night starts to ease as you prepare to leave. While gathering your things, a visitor is overheard inquiring the whereabouts of a hospital unit. Volunteering as a guide, you walk the person toward the opposite end of the hospital. Bleary eyed, muscle laxed, and bone weary, you point out the entrance, then turn to leave. The steady rhythm of your steps suddenly halts as you hear from behind: “Thank you! You speak English really well!” Blankly, you stare. Your voice remains mute while your brain screams: “What is that supposed to mean?” But you do not utter a sound, because intuitively, you know the answer.

While reading this scenario, what did you feel? Pride in knowing that the physician was able to successfully navigate a busy night? Relief in the physician’s ability to maintain a professional demeanor despite belittling microaggressions? Are you angry? Would you replay those moments like reruns of a bad TV show? Can you imagine entering your home and collapsing onto the bed as your tears of fury pool over your rumpled sheets?

The emotional release of that morning is seared into my memory. Over the years, I questioned my reactions. Was I too passive? Should I have schooled them on their ignorance? Had I done so, would I have incurred reprimands? Would standing up for myself cause years of hard work to fall away? Moreover, had I defended myself, would I forever have been viewed as “The Angry Black Woman?”

This story is more than a vignette. For me, it is another reminder that, despite how far we have come, we have much further to go. As a Black woman in a professional sphere, I stand upon the shoulders of those who sacrificed for a dream, a greater purpose. My foremothers and forefathers fought bravely and tirelessly so that we could attain levels of success that were only once but a dream. Despite this progress, a grimace, carelessly spoken words, or a mindless gesture remind me that, no matter how much I toil and what levels of success I achieve, when I meet someone for the first time or encounter someone from my past, I find myself wondering whether I am remembered for me or because I am “The Black One.”
 

Honest look at medicine is imperative

It is important to consider multiple facets of the super-doctor myth. We are dedicated, fearless, authoritative, ambitious individuals. We do not yield to sickness, family obligations, or fatigue. Medicine is a calling, and the patient deserves the utmost respect and professional behavior. Impervious to ethnicity, race, nationality, or creed, we are unbiased and always in service of the greater good. Often, however, I wonder how the expectations of patient-focused, patient-centered care can prevail without an honest look at the vicissitudes facing medicine.

We find ourselves amid a tumultuous year overshadowed by a devastating pandemic that skews heavily toward Black and Brown communities, in addition to political turmoil and racial reckoning that sprang forth from fear, anger, and determination ignited by the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd – communities united in outrage lamenting the cries of Black Lives Matter.

I remember the tears briskly falling upon my blouse as I watched Mr. Floyd’s life violently ripped from this Earth. Shortly thereafter, I remember the phone calls, emails, and texts from close friends, acquaintances, and colleagues offering support, listening ears, pledging to learn and endeavoring to understand the struggle for recognition and the fight for human rights. Even so, the deafening support was clouded by the preternatural silence of some medical organizations. Within the Black physician community, outrage was palpable. We reflected upon years of sacrifice and perseverance despite the challenge of bigotry, ignorance, and racism – not only from patients and their families – but also colleagues and administrators. Yet, in our time of horror and need, in those moments of vulnerability ... silence. Eventually, lengthy proclamations of support were expressed through various media. However, it felt too safe, too corporate, and too generic and inauthentic. As a result, an exodus of Black physicians from leadership positions and academic medicine took hold as the blatant continuation of rhetoric – coupled with ineffective outreach and support – finally took its toll.

Frequently, I question how the obstacles of medical school, residency, and beyond are expected to be traversed while living in a world that consistently affords additional challenges to those who look, act, or speak in a manner that varies from the perceived standard. In a culture where the myth of the super doctor reigns, how do we reconcile attainment of a false and detrimental narrative while the overarching pressure acutely felt by Black physicians magnifies in the setting of stereotypes, sociopolitical turbulence, bigotry, and racism? How can one sacrifice for an entity that is unwilling to acknowledge the psychological implications of that sacrifice?

Throughout my medical career, I encountered, personally and remotely, various incidents that emphasize the unique struggles facing Black physicians. For instance, while in medical school, I transitioned my hair to its natural state but was counseled against doing so because of the risk of losing residency opportunities as a direct result of my “unprofessional” appearance. Throughout residency, multiple incidents come to mind, including frequent demands to see my hospital badge despite the same not being of asked of my White cohorts; denial of entry into physician entrance within the residency building because, despite my professional attire, I was presumed to be a member of the custodial staff; and patients being confused and asking for a doctor despite my long white coat and clear introductions.

Furthermore, the fluency of my speech and the absence of regional dialect or vernacular are quite often lauded by patients. Inquiries to touch my hair as well as hypotheses regarding my nationality or degree of “blackness” with respect to the shape of my nose, eyes, and lips are openly questioned. Unfortunately, those uncomfortable incidents have not been limited to patient encounters.

In one instance, while presenting a patient in the presence of my attending and a 3rd-year medical student, I was sternly admonished for disclosing the race of the patient. I sat still and resolute as this doctor spoke on increased risk of bias in diagnosis and treatment when race is identified. Outwardly, I projected patience but inside, I seethed. In that moment, I realized that I would never have the luxury of ignorance or denial. Although I desire to be valued for my prowess in medicine, the mythical status was not created with my skin color in mind. For is avoidance not but a reflection of denial?

In these chaotic and uncertain times, how can we continue to promote a pathological ideal when the roads traveled are so fundamentally skewed? If a White physician faces a belligerent and argumentative patient, there is opportunity for debriefing both individually and among a larger cohort via classes, conferences, and supervisions. Conversely, when a Black physician is derided with racist sentiment, will they have the same opportunity for reflection and support? Despite identical expectations of professionalism and growth, how can one be successful in a system that either directly or indirectly encourages the opposite?

As we try to shed the super-doctor myth, we must recognize that this unattainable and detrimental persona hinders progress. This myth undermines our ability to understand our fragility, the limitations of our capabilities, and the strength of our vulnerability. We must take an honest look at the manner in which our individual biases and the deeply ingrained (and potentially unconscious) systemic biases are counterintuitive to the success and support of physicians of color.

Dr. Thomas is a board-certified adult psychiatrist with an interest in chronic illness, women’s behavioral health, and minority mental health. She currently practices in North Kingstown and East Providence, R.I. She has no conflicts of interest.

Since the COVID-19 pandemic began, I have received a growing number of inquiries about collection issues. For a variety of reasons, many patients seem increasingly reluctant to pay their medical bills. I’ve written many columns on keeping credit card numbers on file, and other techniques for keeping your accounts receivable in check; but despite your best efforts, there will always be a few deadbeats that you will need to pursue.

For the record, I am not speaking about patients who lost income due to the pandemic and are now struggling with debts, or otherwise have fallen on hard times and are unable to pay. I am addressing the problem of patients who are able to pay, but for whatever reason, do not.

The worst kinds of deadbeats are the ones who rob you twice; they accept payments from insurance companies and keep them. Such crooks must be pursued aggressively, with all the means at your disposal; but to reiterate the point I’ve tried to drive home repeatedly, the best cure is prevention.

You already know that you should collect as many fees as possible at the time of service. For cosmetic procedures you should require a substantial deposit in advance, with the balance due at the time of service. When that is impossible, maximize the chances you will be paid by making sure all available payment mechanisms are in place.

With my credit-card-on-file system that I’ve described many times, patients who fail to pay their credit card bill are the credit card company’s problem, not yours. In cases where you suspect fees might exceed credit card limits, you can arrange a realistic payment schedule in advance and have the patient fill out a credit application. You can find forms for this online at formswift.com, templates.office.com, and many other websites.

In some cases, it may be worth the trouble to run a background check. There are easy and affordable ways to do this. Dunn & Bradstreet, for example, will furnish a report containing payment records and details of any lawsuits, liens, and other legal actions for a nominal fee. The more financial information you have on file, the more leverage you have if a patient later balks at paying his or her balance.

For cosmetic work, always take before and after photos, and have all patients sign a written consent giving permission for the procedure, assuming full financial responsibility, and acknowledging that no guarantees have been given or implied. This defuses the common deadbeat tactics of claiming ignorance of personal financial obligations and professing dissatisfaction with the results.

Despite all your precautions, a deadbeat will inevitably slip through on occasion; but even then, you have options for extracting payment. Collection agencies are the traditional first line of attack for most medical practices. Ideally, your agency should specialize in handling medical accounts, so it will know exactly how much pressure to exert to avoid charges of harassment. Delinquent accounts should be submitted earlier rather than later to maximize the chances of success; my manager never allows an account to age more than 90 days, and if circumstances dictate, she refers them sooner than that.

When collection agencies fail, think about small claims court. You will need to learn the rules in your state, but in most states there is a small filing fee and a limit of $5,000 or so on claims. No attorneys are involved. If your paperwork is in order, the court will nearly always rule in your favor, but it will not provide the means for actual collection. In other words, you will still have to persuade the deadbeat to pay up. However, in many states a court order will give you the authority to attach a lien to property, or garnish wages, which often provides enough leverage to force payment.

What about those double-deadbeats who keep the insurance checks for themselves? First, check your third-party contract; sometimes the insurance company or HMO will be compelled to pay you directly and then go after the patient to get back its money. (They won’t volunteer this service, however – you’ll have to ask for it.)

If that’s not an option, consider reporting the misdirected payment to the Internal Revenue Service as income to the patient, by submitting a 1099 Miscellaneous Income form. Be sure to notify the deadbeat that you will be doing this. Sometimes the threat of such action will convince the individual to pay up; if not, at least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing he or she will have to pay taxes on the money.

Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

Since the COVID-19 pandemic began, I have received a growing number of inquiries about collection issues. For a variety of reasons, many patients seem increasingly reluctant to pay their medical bills. I’ve written many columns on keeping credit card numbers on file, and other techniques for keeping your accounts receivable in check; but despite your best efforts, there will always be a few deadbeats that you will need to pursue.

For the record, I am not speaking about patients who lost income due to the pandemic and are now struggling with debts, or otherwise have fallen on hard times and are unable to pay. I am addressing the problem of patients who are able to pay, but for whatever reason, do not.

The worst kinds of deadbeats are the ones who rob you twice; they accept payments from insurance companies and keep them. Such crooks must be pursued aggressively, with all the means at your disposal; but to reiterate the point I’ve tried to drive home repeatedly, the best cure is prevention.

You already know that you should collect as many fees as possible at the time of service. For cosmetic procedures you should require a substantial deposit in advance, with the balance due at the time of service. When that is impossible, maximize the chances you will be paid by making sure all available payment mechanisms are in place.

With my credit-card-on-file system that I’ve described many times, patients who fail to pay their credit card bill are the credit card company’s problem, not yours. In cases where you suspect fees might exceed credit card limits, you can arrange a realistic payment schedule in advance and have the patient fill out a credit application. You can find forms for this online at formswift.com, templates.office.com, and many other websites.

In some cases, it may be worth the trouble to run a background check. There are easy and affordable ways to do this. Dunn & Bradstreet, for example, will furnish a report containing payment records and details of any lawsuits, liens, and other legal actions for a nominal fee. The more financial information you have on file, the more leverage you have if a patient later balks at paying his or her balance.

For cosmetic work, always take before and after photos, and have all patients sign a written consent giving permission for the procedure, assuming full financial responsibility, and acknowledging that no guarantees have been given or implied. This defuses the common deadbeat tactics of claiming ignorance of personal financial obligations and professing dissatisfaction with the results.

Despite all your precautions, a deadbeat will inevitably slip through on occasion; but even then, you have options for extracting payment. Collection agencies are the traditional first line of attack for most medical practices. Ideally, your agency should specialize in handling medical accounts, so it will know exactly how much pressure to exert to avoid charges of harassment. Delinquent accounts should be submitted earlier rather than later to maximize the chances of success; my manager never allows an account to age more than 90 days, and if circumstances dictate, she refers them sooner than that.

When collection agencies fail, think about small claims court. You will need to learn the rules in your state, but in most states there is a small filing fee and a limit of $5,000 or so on claims. No attorneys are involved. If your paperwork is in order, the court will nearly always rule in your favor, but it will not provide the means for actual collection. In other words, you will still have to persuade the deadbeat to pay up. However, in many states a court order will give you the authority to attach a lien to property, or garnish wages, which often provides enough leverage to force payment.

What about those double-deadbeats who keep the insurance checks for themselves? First, check your third-party contract; sometimes the insurance company or HMO will be compelled to pay you directly and then go after the patient to get back its money. (They won’t volunteer this service, however – you’ll have to ask for it.)

If that’s not an option, consider reporting the misdirected payment to the Internal Revenue Service as income to the patient, by submitting a 1099 Miscellaneous Income form. Be sure to notify the deadbeat that you will be doing this. Sometimes the threat of such action will convince the individual to pay up; if not, at least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing he or she will have to pay taxes on the money.

Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

Since the COVID-19 pandemic began, I have received a growing number of inquiries about collection issues. For a variety of reasons, many patients seem increasingly reluctant to pay their medical bills. I’ve written many columns on keeping credit card numbers on file, and other techniques for keeping your accounts receivable in check; but despite your best efforts, there will always be a few deadbeats that you will need to pursue.

For the record, I am not speaking about patients who lost income due to the pandemic and are now struggling with debts, or otherwise have fallen on hard times and are unable to pay. I am addressing the problem of patients who are able to pay, but for whatever reason, do not.

The worst kinds of deadbeats are the ones who rob you twice; they accept payments from insurance companies and keep them. Such crooks must be pursued aggressively, with all the means at your disposal; but to reiterate the point I’ve tried to drive home repeatedly, the best cure is prevention.

You already know that you should collect as many fees as possible at the time of service. For cosmetic procedures you should require a substantial deposit in advance, with the balance due at the time of service. When that is impossible, maximize the chances you will be paid by making sure all available payment mechanisms are in place.

With my credit-card-on-file system that I’ve described many times, patients who fail to pay their credit card bill are the credit card company’s problem, not yours. In cases where you suspect fees might exceed credit card limits, you can arrange a realistic payment schedule in advance and have the patient fill out a credit application. You can find forms for this online at formswift.com, templates.office.com, and many other websites.

In some cases, it may be worth the trouble to run a background check. There are easy and affordable ways to do this. Dunn & Bradstreet, for example, will furnish a report containing payment records and details of any lawsuits, liens, and other legal actions for a nominal fee. The more financial information you have on file, the more leverage you have if a patient later balks at paying his or her balance.

For cosmetic work, always take before and after photos, and have all patients sign a written consent giving permission for the procedure, assuming full financial responsibility, and acknowledging that no guarantees have been given or implied. This defuses the common deadbeat tactics of claiming ignorance of personal financial obligations and professing dissatisfaction with the results.

Despite all your precautions, a deadbeat will inevitably slip through on occasion; but even then, you have options for extracting payment. Collection agencies are the traditional first line of attack for most medical practices. Ideally, your agency should specialize in handling medical accounts, so it will know exactly how much pressure to exert to avoid charges of harassment. Delinquent accounts should be submitted earlier rather than later to maximize the chances of success; my manager never allows an account to age more than 90 days, and if circumstances dictate, she refers them sooner than that.

When collection agencies fail, think about small claims court. You will need to learn the rules in your state, but in most states there is a small filing fee and a limit of $5,000 or so on claims. No attorneys are involved. If your paperwork is in order, the court will nearly always rule in your favor, but it will not provide the means for actual collection. In other words, you will still have to persuade the deadbeat to pay up. However, in many states a court order will give you the authority to attach a lien to property, or garnish wages, which often provides enough leverage to force payment.

What about those double-deadbeats who keep the insurance checks for themselves? First, check your third-party contract; sometimes the insurance company or HMO will be compelled to pay you directly and then go after the patient to get back its money. (They won’t volunteer this service, however – you’ll have to ask for it.)

If that’s not an option, consider reporting the misdirected payment to the Internal Revenue Service as income to the patient, by submitting a 1099 Miscellaneous Income form. Be sure to notify the deadbeat that you will be doing this. Sometimes the threat of such action will convince the individual to pay up; if not, at least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing he or she will have to pay taxes on the money.

Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

“I want my child to go back to school,” the mother said to me. “I just want you to tell me it will be safe.”

As the summer break winds down for children across the United States, pediatric COVID-19 cases are rising. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, nearly 94,000 cases were reported for the week ending Aug. 5, more than double the case count from 2 weeks earlier.¹

Anecdotally, some children’s hospitals are reporting an increase in pediatric COVID-19 admissions. In the hospital in which I practice, we are seeing numbers similar to those we saw in December and January: a typical daily census of 10 kids admitted with COVID-19, with 4 of them in the intensive care unit. It is a stark contrast to June when, most days, we had no patients with COVID-19 in the hospital. About half of our hospitalized patients are too young to be vaccinated against COVID-19, while the rest are unvaccinated children 12 years and older.

Vaccination of eligible children and teachers is an essential strategy for preventing the spread of COVID-19 in schools, but as children head back to school, immunization rates of educators are largely unknown and are suboptimal among students in most states. As of Aug. 11, 10.7 million U.S. children had received at least one dose of COVID-19 vaccine, representing 43% of 12- to 15-year-olds and 53% of 16- to 17-year-olds.² Rates vary substantially by state, with more than 70% of kids in Vermont receiving at least one dose of vaccine, compared with less than 25% in Wyoming and Alabama.

Still, in the absence of robust immunization rates, we have data that schools can still reopen successfully. We need to follow the science and implement universal masking, a safe, effective, and practical mitigation strategy.

It worked in Wisconsin. Seventeen K-12 schools in rural Wisconsin opened last fall for in-person instruction.³ Reported compliance with masking was high, ranging from 92.1% to 97.4%, and in-school transmission of COVID-19 was low, with seven cases among 4,876 students.

It worked in Salt Lake City.⁴ In 20 elementary schools open for in-person instruction Dec. 3, 2020, to Jan. 31, 2021, compliance with mask-wearing was high and in-school transmission was very low, despite a high community incidence of COVID-19. Notably, students’ classroom seats were less than 6 feet apart, suggesting that consistent mask-wearing works even when physical distancing is challenging.

One of the best examples of successful school reopening happened in North Carolina, where pediatricians, pediatric infectious disease specialists, and other experts affiliated with Duke University formed the ABC Science Collaborative to support school districts that requested scientific input to help guide return-to-school policies during the COVID-19 pandemic. From Oct. 26, 2020, to Feb. 28, 2021, the ABC Science Collaborative worked with 13 school districts that were open for in-person instruction using basic mitigation strategies, including universal masking.⁵ During this time period, there were 4,969 community-acquired SARS-CoV-2 infections in the more than 100,000 students and staff present in schools. Transmission to school contacts was identified in only 209 individuals for a secondary attack rate of less than 1%.

Duke investigator Kanecia Zimmerman, MD, told Duke Today, “We know that, if our goal is to reduce transmission of COVID-19 in schools, there are two effective ways to do that: 1. vaccination, 2. masking. In the setting of schools ... the science suggests masking can be extremely effective, particularly for those who can’t get vaccinated while COVID-19 is still circulating.”

Both the AAP⁶ and the Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society⁷ have emphasized the importance of in-person instruction and endorsed universal masking in school. Mask-optional policies or “mask-if-you-are-unvaccinated” policies don’t work, as we have seen in society at large. They are likely to be especially challenging in school settings. Given an option, many, if not most kids, will take off their masks. Kids who leave them on run the risk of stigmatization or bullying.

On Aug. 4, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention updated its guidance to recommend universal indoor masking for all students, staff, teachers, and visitors to K-12 schools, regardless of vaccination status. Now we’ll have to wait and see if school districts, elected officials, and parents will get on board with masks. ... and we’ll be left to count the number of rising COVID-19 cases that occur until they do.

Case in point: Kids in Greater Clark County, Ind., headed back to school on July 28. Masks were not required on school property, although unvaccinated students and teachers were “strongly encouraged” to wear them.⁸

Over the first 8 days of in-person instruction, schools in Greater Clark County identified 70 cases of COVID-19 in students and quarantined more than 1,100 of the district’s 10,300 students. Only the unvaccinated were required to quarantine. The district began requiring masks in all school buildings on Aug. 9.⁹

The worried mother had one last question for me. “What’s the best mask for a child to wear?” For most kids, a simple, well-fitting cloth mask is fine. The best mask is ultimately the mask a child will wear. A toolkit with practical tips for helping children successfully wear a mask is available on the ABC Science Collaborative website.
 

Dr. Bryant, president of the Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society, is a pediatrician at the University of Louisville (Ky.) and Norton Children’s Hospital, also in Louisville. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at pdnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. American Academy of Pediatrics. “Children and COVID-19: State-level data report.”

2. American Academy of Pediatrics. “Children and COVID-19 vaccination trends.”

3. Falk A et al. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2021;70:136-40.

4. Hershow RB et al. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep 2021;70:442-8.

5. Zimmerman KO et al. Pediatrics. 2021 Jul;e2021052686. doi: 10.1542/peds.2021-052686.

6. American Academy of Pediatrics. “American Academy of Pediatrics updates recommendations for opening schools in fall 2021.”

7. Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society. “PIDS supports universal masking for students, school staff.”

8. Courtney Hayden. WHAS11. “Greater Clark County Schools return to class July 28.”

9. Dustin Vogt. WAVE3 News. “Greater Clark Country Schools to require masks amid 70 positive cases.”

“I want my child to go back to school,” the mother said to me. “I just want you to tell me it will be safe.”

As the summer break winds down for children across the United States, pediatric COVID-19 cases are rising. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, nearly 94,000 cases were reported for the week ending Aug. 5, more than double the case count from 2 weeks earlier.¹

Anecdotally, some children’s hospitals are reporting an increase in pediatric COVID-19 admissions. In the hospital in which I practice, we are seeing numbers similar to those we saw in December and January: a typical daily census of 10 kids admitted with COVID-19, with 4 of them in the intensive care unit. It is a stark contrast to June when, most days, we had no patients with COVID-19 in the hospital. About half of our hospitalized patients are too young to be vaccinated against COVID-19, while the rest are unvaccinated children 12 years and older.

Vaccination of eligible children and teachers is an essential strategy for preventing the spread of COVID-19 in schools, but as children head back to school, immunization rates of educators are largely unknown and are suboptimal among students in most states. As of Aug. 11, 10.7 million U.S. children had received at least one dose of COVID-19 vaccine, representing 43% of 12- to 15-year-olds and 53% of 16- to 17-year-olds.² Rates vary substantially by state, with more than 70% of kids in Vermont receiving at least one dose of vaccine, compared with less than 25% in Wyoming and Alabama.

Still, in the absence of robust immunization rates, we have data that schools can still reopen successfully. We need to follow the science and implement universal masking, a safe, effective, and practical mitigation strategy.

It worked in Wisconsin. Seventeen K-12 schools in rural Wisconsin opened last fall for in-person instruction.³ Reported compliance with masking was high, ranging from 92.1% to 97.4%, and in-school transmission of COVID-19 was low, with seven cases among 4,876 students.

It worked in Salt Lake City.⁴ In 20 elementary schools open for in-person instruction Dec. 3, 2020, to Jan. 31, 2021, compliance with mask-wearing was high and in-school transmission was very low, despite a high community incidence of COVID-19. Notably, students’ classroom seats were less than 6 feet apart, suggesting that consistent mask-wearing works even when physical distancing is challenging.

One of the best examples of successful school reopening happened in North Carolina, where pediatricians, pediatric infectious disease specialists, and other experts affiliated with Duke University formed the ABC Science Collaborative to support school districts that requested scientific input to help guide return-to-school policies during the COVID-19 pandemic. From Oct. 26, 2020, to Feb. 28, 2021, the ABC Science Collaborative worked with 13 school districts that were open for in-person instruction using basic mitigation strategies, including universal masking.⁵ During this time period, there were 4,969 community-acquired SARS-CoV-2 infections in the more than 100,000 students and staff present in schools. Transmission to school contacts was identified in only 209 individuals for a secondary attack rate of less than 1%.

Duke investigator Kanecia Zimmerman, MD, told Duke Today, “We know that, if our goal is to reduce transmission of COVID-19 in schools, there are two effective ways to do that: 1. vaccination, 2. masking. In the setting of schools ... the science suggests masking can be extremely effective, particularly for those who can’t get vaccinated while COVID-19 is still circulating.”

Both the AAP⁶ and the Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society⁷ have emphasized the importance of in-person instruction and endorsed universal masking in school. Mask-optional policies or “mask-if-you-are-unvaccinated” policies don’t work, as we have seen in society at large. They are likely to be especially challenging in school settings. Given an option, many, if not most kids, will take off their masks. Kids who leave them on run the risk of stigmatization or bullying.

On Aug. 4, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention updated its guidance to recommend universal indoor masking for all students, staff, teachers, and visitors to K-12 schools, regardless of vaccination status. Now we’ll have to wait and see if school districts, elected officials, and parents will get on board with masks. ... and we’ll be left to count the number of rising COVID-19 cases that occur until they do.

Case in point: Kids in Greater Clark County, Ind., headed back to school on July 28. Masks were not required on school property, although unvaccinated students and teachers were “strongly encouraged” to wear them.⁸

Over the first 8 days of in-person instruction, schools in Greater Clark County identified 70 cases of COVID-19 in students and quarantined more than 1,100 of the district’s 10,300 students. Only the unvaccinated were required to quarantine. The district began requiring masks in all school buildings on Aug. 9.⁹

The worried mother had one last question for me. “What’s the best mask for a child to wear?” For most kids, a simple, well-fitting cloth mask is fine. The best mask is ultimately the mask a child will wear. A toolkit with practical tips for helping children successfully wear a mask is available on the ABC Science Collaborative website.
 

Dr. Bryant, president of the Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society, is a pediatrician at the University of Louisville (Ky.) and Norton Children’s Hospital, also in Louisville. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at pdnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. American Academy of Pediatrics. “Children and COVID-19: State-level data report.”

2. American Academy of Pediatrics. “Children and COVID-19 vaccination trends.”

3. Falk A et al. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2021;70:136-40.

4. Hershow RB et al. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep 2021;70:442-8.

5. Zimmerman KO et al. Pediatrics. 2021 Jul;e2021052686. doi: 10.1542/peds.2021-052686.

6. American Academy of Pediatrics. “American Academy of Pediatrics updates recommendations for opening schools in fall 2021.”

7. Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society. “PIDS supports universal masking for students, school staff.”

8. Courtney Hayden. WHAS11. “Greater Clark County Schools return to class July 28.”

9. Dustin Vogt. WAVE3 News. “Greater Clark Country Schools to require masks amid 70 positive cases.”

“I want my child to go back to school,” the mother said to me. “I just want you to tell me it will be safe.”

As the summer break winds down for children across the United States, pediatric COVID-19 cases are rising. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, nearly 94,000 cases were reported for the week ending Aug. 5, more than double the case count from 2 weeks earlier.¹

Anecdotally, some children’s hospitals are reporting an increase in pediatric COVID-19 admissions. In the hospital in which I practice, we are seeing numbers similar to those we saw in December and January: a typical daily census of 10 kids admitted with COVID-19, with 4 of them in the intensive care unit. It is a stark contrast to June when, most days, we had no patients with COVID-19 in the hospital. About half of our hospitalized patients are too young to be vaccinated against COVID-19, while the rest are unvaccinated children 12 years and older.

Vaccination of eligible children and teachers is an essential strategy for preventing the spread of COVID-19 in schools, but as children head back to school, immunization rates of educators are largely unknown and are suboptimal among students in most states. As of Aug. 11, 10.7 million U.S. children had received at least one dose of COVID-19 vaccine, representing 43% of 12- to 15-year-olds and 53% of 16- to 17-year-olds.² Rates vary substantially by state, with more than 70% of kids in Vermont receiving at least one dose of vaccine, compared with less than 25% in Wyoming and Alabama.

Still, in the absence of robust immunization rates, we have data that schools can still reopen successfully. We need to follow the science and implement universal masking, a safe, effective, and practical mitigation strategy.

It worked in Wisconsin. Seventeen K-12 schools in rural Wisconsin opened last fall for in-person instruction.³ Reported compliance with masking was high, ranging from 92.1% to 97.4%, and in-school transmission of COVID-19 was low, with seven cases among 4,876 students.

It worked in Salt Lake City.⁴ In 20 elementary schools open for in-person instruction Dec. 3, 2020, to Jan. 31, 2021, compliance with mask-wearing was high and in-school transmission was very low, despite a high community incidence of COVID-19. Notably, students’ classroom seats were less than 6 feet apart, suggesting that consistent mask-wearing works even when physical distancing is challenging.

One of the best examples of successful school reopening happened in North Carolina, where pediatricians, pediatric infectious disease specialists, and other experts affiliated with Duke University formed the ABC Science Collaborative to support school districts that requested scientific input to help guide return-to-school policies during the COVID-19 pandemic. From Oct. 26, 2020, to Feb. 28, 2021, the ABC Science Collaborative worked with 13 school districts that were open for in-person instruction using basic mitigation strategies, including universal masking.⁵ During this time period, there were 4,969 community-acquired SARS-CoV-2 infections in the more than 100,000 students and staff present in schools. Transmission to school contacts was identified in only 209 individuals for a secondary attack rate of less than 1%.

Duke investigator Kanecia Zimmerman, MD, told Duke Today, “We know that, if our goal is to reduce transmission of COVID-19 in schools, there are two effective ways to do that: 1. vaccination, 2. masking. In the setting of schools ... the science suggests masking can be extremely effective, particularly for those who can’t get vaccinated while COVID-19 is still circulating.”

Both the AAP⁶ and the Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society⁷ have emphasized the importance of in-person instruction and endorsed universal masking in school. Mask-optional policies or “mask-if-you-are-unvaccinated” policies don’t work, as we have seen in society at large. They are likely to be especially challenging in school settings. Given an option, many, if not most kids, will take off their masks. Kids who leave them on run the risk of stigmatization or bullying.

On Aug. 4, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention updated its guidance to recommend universal indoor masking for all students, staff, teachers, and visitors to K-12 schools, regardless of vaccination status. Now we’ll have to wait and see if school districts, elected officials, and parents will get on board with masks. ... and we’ll be left to count the number of rising COVID-19 cases that occur until they do.

Case in point: Kids in Greater Clark County, Ind., headed back to school on July 28. Masks were not required on school property, although unvaccinated students and teachers were “strongly encouraged” to wear them.⁸

Over the first 8 days of in-person instruction, schools in Greater Clark County identified 70 cases of COVID-19 in students and quarantined more than 1,100 of the district’s 10,300 students. Only the unvaccinated were required to quarantine. The district began requiring masks in all school buildings on Aug. 9.⁹

The worried mother had one last question for me. “What’s the best mask for a child to wear?” For most kids, a simple, well-fitting cloth mask is fine. The best mask is ultimately the mask a child will wear. A toolkit with practical tips for helping children successfully wear a mask is available on the ABC Science Collaborative website.
 

Dr. Bryant, president of the Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society, is a pediatrician at the University of Louisville (Ky.) and Norton Children’s Hospital, also in Louisville. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at pdnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. American Academy of Pediatrics. “Children and COVID-19: State-level data report.”

2. American Academy of Pediatrics. “Children and COVID-19 vaccination trends.”

3. Falk A et al. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2021;70:136-40.

4. Hershow RB et al. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep 2021;70:442-8.

5. Zimmerman KO et al. Pediatrics. 2021 Jul;e2021052686. doi: 10.1542/peds.2021-052686.

6. American Academy of Pediatrics. “American Academy of Pediatrics updates recommendations for opening schools in fall 2021.”

7. Pediatric Infectious Diseases Society. “PIDS supports universal masking for students, school staff.”

8. Courtney Hayden. WHAS11. “Greater Clark County Schools return to class July 28.”

9. Dustin Vogt. WAVE3 News. “Greater Clark Country Schools to require masks amid 70 positive cases.”

Zinc deficiency may be inherited or acquired. Acrodermatitis enteropathica is an autosomal recessive genetic disorder caused by a mutation in the gene that encodes a zinc transporter. It presents in infancy with the classic triad of diarrhea, dermatitis, and alopecia. Acquired zinc deficiency is due to causes such as alcoholism, malabsorption disorders like cystic fibrosis, inflammatory disease, gastrointestinal surgery, metabolic stress following general surgery, eating disorders, infections, malignancy, or occasionally in pregnancy. Classically, the face, groin, and extremities are affected (often acral), with erythematous, scaly patches. Pustules and bullae may be present. Angular cheilitis is often seen.

Courtesy Dr. Donna Bilu Martin and Dr. Andrew Harris

Courtesy Dr. Donna Bilu Martin and Dr. Andrew Harris

Our patient’s blood work was consistent with nutritional deficiency and revealed low levels of zinc, vitamin A, ceruloplasmin, albumin and prealbumin, total protein, calcium, selenium, vitamin E, vitamin K, and vitamin C. Her hemoglobin A1C was under 4. Her hepatitis serologies were negative. The patient received total parenteral nutrition with subsequent complete resolution of her rash. Follow up for gastric bypass patients should be performed long term as they are at risk for nutritional deficiencies.

Dr. Bilu Martin, and Andrew Harris, DO, Mount Sinai Medical Center, Aventura, Fla., provided the case and photos.
 

Dr. Bilu Martin is a board-certified dermatologist in private practice at Premier Dermatology, MD, in Aventura, Fla. More diagnostic cases are available at mdedge.com/dermatology. To submit a case for possible publication, send an email to dermnews@mdedge.com.

References

Dermatol Online J. 2016 Nov 15; 22(11):13030.

Andrews’ Disease of the Skin: Clinical Dermatology. Philadelphia: Saunders Elsevier, 2006.

Bolognia et al. Dermatology. St. Louis: Mosby/Elsevier, 2008.

Zinc deficiency may be inherited or acquired. Acrodermatitis enteropathica is an autosomal recessive genetic disorder caused by a mutation in the gene that encodes a zinc transporter. It presents in infancy with the classic triad of diarrhea, dermatitis, and alopecia. Acquired zinc deficiency is due to causes such as alcoholism, malabsorption disorders like cystic fibrosis, inflammatory disease, gastrointestinal surgery, metabolic stress following general surgery, eating disorders, infections, malignancy, or occasionally in pregnancy. Classically, the face, groin, and extremities are affected (often acral), with erythematous, scaly patches. Pustules and bullae may be present. Angular cheilitis is often seen.

Courtesy Dr. Donna Bilu Martin and Dr. Andrew Harris

Courtesy Dr. Donna Bilu Martin and Dr. Andrew Harris

Our patient’s blood work was consistent with nutritional deficiency and revealed low levels of zinc, vitamin A, ceruloplasmin, albumin and prealbumin, total protein, calcium, selenium, vitamin E, vitamin K, and vitamin C. Her hemoglobin A1C was under 4. Her hepatitis serologies were negative. The patient received total parenteral nutrition with subsequent complete resolution of her rash. Follow up for gastric bypass patients should be performed long term as they are at risk for nutritional deficiencies.

Dr. Bilu Martin, and Andrew Harris, DO, Mount Sinai Medical Center, Aventura, Fla., provided the case and photos.
 

Dr. Bilu Martin is a board-certified dermatologist in private practice at Premier Dermatology, MD, in Aventura, Fla. More diagnostic cases are available at mdedge.com/dermatology. To submit a case for possible publication, send an email to dermnews@mdedge.com.

References

Dermatol Online J. 2016 Nov 15; 22(11):13030.

Andrews’ Disease of the Skin: Clinical Dermatology. Philadelphia: Saunders Elsevier, 2006.

Bolognia et al. Dermatology. St. Louis: Mosby/Elsevier, 2008.

Zinc deficiency may be inherited or acquired. Acrodermatitis enteropathica is an autosomal recessive genetic disorder caused by a mutation in the gene that encodes a zinc transporter. It presents in infancy with the classic triad of diarrhea, dermatitis, and alopecia. Acquired zinc deficiency is due to causes such as alcoholism, malabsorption disorders like cystic fibrosis, inflammatory disease, gastrointestinal surgery, metabolic stress following general surgery, eating disorders, infections, malignancy, or occasionally in pregnancy. Classically, the face, groin, and extremities are affected (often acral), with erythematous, scaly patches. Pustules and bullae may be present. Angular cheilitis is often seen.

Courtesy Dr. Donna Bilu Martin and Dr. Andrew Harris

Courtesy Dr. Donna Bilu Martin and Dr. Andrew Harris

Our patient’s blood work was consistent with nutritional deficiency and revealed low levels of zinc, vitamin A, ceruloplasmin, albumin and prealbumin, total protein, calcium, selenium, vitamin E, vitamin K, and vitamin C. Her hemoglobin A1C was under 4. Her hepatitis serologies were negative. The patient received total parenteral nutrition with subsequent complete resolution of her rash. Follow up for gastric bypass patients should be performed long term as they are at risk for nutritional deficiencies.

Dr. Bilu Martin, and Andrew Harris, DO, Mount Sinai Medical Center, Aventura, Fla., provided the case and photos.
 

Dr. Bilu Martin is a board-certified dermatologist in private practice at Premier Dermatology, MD, in Aventura, Fla. More diagnostic cases are available at mdedge.com/dermatology. To submit a case for possible publication, send an email to dermnews@mdedge.com.

References

Dermatol Online J. 2016 Nov 15; 22(11):13030.

Andrews’ Disease of the Skin: Clinical Dermatology. Philadelphia: Saunders Elsevier, 2006.

Bolognia et al. Dermatology. St. Louis: Mosby/Elsevier, 2008.

Case vignette: Laura is a 14-year-old biological girl who presents to your office for a routine well-child visit. She is doing well medically but notes that over the past 3 months she has been having increasing thoughts of suicide and has self-harmed via cutting on her wrists with a blade removed from a shaving razor. You contemplate what the most salient questions are in order to determine the best disposition for your patient.

The case vignette above may sound like one that you have heard before, and if not, you undoubtedly will encounter such a situation moving forward. The rate of suicidal ideation amongst youth ages 10-24 has increased by 57.4% between 2007 and 2018.¹ Furthermore, suicide is the second leading cause of death in those aged 10 through young adulthood.² According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s 2019 High School Youth Risk Behavior Survey, 18.8% of high school students seriously considered attempting suicide, 15.7% made a plan about how they would attempt suicide, and 8.9% actually attempted suicide, with 2.5% having a suicide attempt that resulted in an injury, poisoning, or overdose that had to be treated by a doctor or nurse during the 12 months before the survey.³ Children often present first to their primary care provider, and they may be the first individual who the child shares their suicidal or self-harm thoughts with. It may be useful to have a standardized approach, while using your own clinical judgment, to determine best next steps. Given the significant recent surge in children presenting to the emergency department for psychiatric needs and that environment having its own limitations (for example, long wait times, nontherapeutic space, etc.), a simple screen and brief assessment may lead to being able to maintain a patient safely outside of the hospital.
 

Screen all appropriate patients for suicide

There are, at minimum, three validated screening tools that can be used as to determine what the best next step should be. They include the Ask Suicide-Screening Questions (ASQ) developed by the National Institute of Mental Health, the Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS), and the PHQ-9 (modified for adolescents). We can highlight one of the screening tools here as noted below, but the choice of screener may be based on facility and/or clinician preference.

The Ask Suicide-Screening Questions

The ASQ, developed by the National Institute of Mental Health, include the following four binary questions plus a fifth acuity question, as follows:

1. In the past few weeks, have you wished you were dead?

2. In the past few weeks, have you felt that you or your family would be better off if you were dead?

3. In the past week, have you been having thoughts about killing yourself?

4. Have you ever tried to kill yourself?

a. If yes, how?

b. When?

The following acuity question is to be asked if any of the above are answered “yes”:

5. Are you having thoughts of killing yourself right now?

a. If yes, please describe.
 

Assess the level of risk

Once you have screened a patient, you need to assess the level of risk to help determine the level of care required. Returning to our original case vignette, does the patient warrant outpatient management, crisis evaluation, or an emergency psychiatric evaluation? You may have already decided that the patient needs an emergency mental health evaluation from a local crisis clinician evaluation and/or the emergency department. However, you may also find that the screen did not elicit imminent concern, but it does warrant a brief assessment to further elucidate the level of risk and proper disposition. One such instrument that may be helpful is the Brief Suicide Safety Assessment (BSSA) – also developed by the NIMH as a tool linked to the ASQ. There are clear and specific instructions in the BSSA with suggestions on how to ask questions. Important components to the BSSA include:

• A focus on a more thorough clinical history – including frequency of suicidal ideation, suicide plan, past behavior, associated symptoms, and social support/stressors
• Collateral information (e.g., further details from those who know the patient such as family/friends).
• Safety planning.
• Determining disposition.

The BSSA may suggest that a crisis/psychiatric evaluation is warranted or suggest that a safety plan with a mental health referral will likely be sufficient.
 

Triage and safety planning

A safety plan should be created if you determine that a patient can be safely maintained as an outpatient based on your screening, assessment, and triaging. Traditional safety plans come in many different forms and can be found online (Example of a Safety Plan Template). However, most safety plans include some version of the following:

• Increased supervision: 24/7 supervision with doors open/unlocked.
• Reduced access: medications (prescription and OTC) locked away; sharps and firearms secured.
• Adaptive coping strategies (e.g., relaxation techniques such as drawing or listening to music).
• Reliable persons for support (e.g., parent, therapist, school counselor).
• Outpatient mental health provider follow-up and/or referral.
• Provision of local crisis and national hotline contact information.
• Use of a safety plan phone app completed with patient.

Envision a safety plan as a living document that evolves, grows, and changes with your patient/family – one that can be easily reviewed/updated at each visit.
 

Returning to our case vignette

Laura returns to your office for a follow-up after a 10-day stay at a hospital-diversion program or inpatient psychiatric unit. The decision is made to use the primary care NIMH ASQ/BSSA algorithm, and you determine the patient to not be at imminent risk following the screen and assessment. Laura is triaged as appropriate for outpatient care, you collaborate to update the safety plan, regular follow-ups are scheduled, and a mental health referral has been placed. Thus, there are tools to assist with screening, assessing, and triaging pediatric patients with suicidal ideation that provide the patient with appropriate care and treatment and may help alleviate the need to have a patient present to the emergency department.

Dr. Abdul-Karim is a child psychiatrist at the University of Vermont University Children’s Hospital in Burlington.

Additional resources

The American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry has developed information that can be provided to families about suicide safety precautions that can be taken at home, which can be found here: Facts for Families. Suicide Safety: Precautions at Home.

Screening tools listed above can be found here:

ASQ Toolkit.

C-SSRS.

PHQ-9 Modified for Adolescents (PHQ-A).

References

1. Curtin SC. National Center for Health Statistics. “State Suicide Rates Among Adolescents and Young Adults Aged 10-24: United States, 2000-2018” National Vital Statistics Reports..

2. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Health Statistics. “Underlying Cause of Death 2018-2019” CDC WONDER Online Database. Accessed 2021 Jul 31, 6:57:39 p.m.

3. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 1991-2019 High School Youth Risk Behavior Survey Data.

Case vignette: Laura is a 14-year-old biological girl who presents to your office for a routine well-child visit. She is doing well medically but notes that over the past 3 months she has been having increasing thoughts of suicide and has self-harmed via cutting on her wrists with a blade removed from a shaving razor. You contemplate what the most salient questions are in order to determine the best disposition for your patient.

The case vignette above may sound like one that you have heard before, and if not, you undoubtedly will encounter such a situation moving forward. The rate of suicidal ideation amongst youth ages 10-24 has increased by 57.4% between 2007 and 2018.¹ Furthermore, suicide is the second leading cause of death in those aged 10 through young adulthood.² According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s 2019 High School Youth Risk Behavior Survey, 18.8% of high school students seriously considered attempting suicide, 15.7% made a plan about how they would attempt suicide, and 8.9% actually attempted suicide, with 2.5% having a suicide attempt that resulted in an injury, poisoning, or overdose that had to be treated by a doctor or nurse during the 12 months before the survey.³ Children often present first to their primary care provider, and they may be the first individual who the child shares their suicidal or self-harm thoughts with. It may be useful to have a standardized approach, while using your own clinical judgment, to determine best next steps. Given the significant recent surge in children presenting to the emergency department for psychiatric needs and that environment having its own limitations (for example, long wait times, nontherapeutic space, etc.), a simple screen and brief assessment may lead to being able to maintain a patient safely outside of the hospital.
 

Screen all appropriate patients for suicide

There are, at minimum, three validated screening tools that can be used as to determine what the best next step should be. They include the Ask Suicide-Screening Questions (ASQ) developed by the National Institute of Mental Health, the Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS), and the PHQ-9 (modified for adolescents). We can highlight one of the screening tools here as noted below, but the choice of screener may be based on facility and/or clinician preference.

The Ask Suicide-Screening Questions

The ASQ, developed by the National Institute of Mental Health, include the following four binary questions plus a fifth acuity question, as follows:

1. In the past few weeks, have you wished you were dead?

2. In the past few weeks, have you felt that you or your family would be better off if you were dead?

3. In the past week, have you been having thoughts about killing yourself?

4. Have you ever tried to kill yourself?

a. If yes, how?

b. When?

The following acuity question is to be asked if any of the above are answered “yes”:

5. Are you having thoughts of killing yourself right now?

a. If yes, please describe.
 

Assess the level of risk

Once you have screened a patient, you need to assess the level of risk to help determine the level of care required. Returning to our original case vignette, does the patient warrant outpatient management, crisis evaluation, or an emergency psychiatric evaluation? You may have already decided that the patient needs an emergency mental health evaluation from a local crisis clinician evaluation and/or the emergency department. However, you may also find that the screen did not elicit imminent concern, but it does warrant a brief assessment to further elucidate the level of risk and proper disposition. One such instrument that may be helpful is the Brief Suicide Safety Assessment (BSSA) – also developed by the NIMH as a tool linked to the ASQ. There are clear and specific instructions in the BSSA with suggestions on how to ask questions. Important components to the BSSA include:

• A focus on a more thorough clinical history – including frequency of suicidal ideation, suicide plan, past behavior, associated symptoms, and social support/stressors
• Collateral information (e.g., further details from those who know the patient such as family/friends).
• Safety planning.
• Determining disposition.

The BSSA may suggest that a crisis/psychiatric evaluation is warranted or suggest that a safety plan with a mental health referral will likely be sufficient.
 

Triage and safety planning

A safety plan should be created if you determine that a patient can be safely maintained as an outpatient based on your screening, assessment, and triaging. Traditional safety plans come in many different forms and can be found online (Example of a Safety Plan Template). However, most safety plans include some version of the following:

• Increased supervision: 24/7 supervision with doors open/unlocked.
• Reduced access: medications (prescription and OTC) locked away; sharps and firearms secured.
• Adaptive coping strategies (e.g., relaxation techniques such as drawing or listening to music).
• Reliable persons for support (e.g., parent, therapist, school counselor).
• Outpatient mental health provider follow-up and/or referral.
• Provision of local crisis and national hotline contact information.
• Use of a safety plan phone app completed with patient.

Envision a safety plan as a living document that evolves, grows, and changes with your patient/family – one that can be easily reviewed/updated at each visit.
 

Returning to our case vignette

Laura returns to your office for a follow-up after a 10-day stay at a hospital-diversion program or inpatient psychiatric unit. The decision is made to use the primary care NIMH ASQ/BSSA algorithm, and you determine the patient to not be at imminent risk following the screen and assessment. Laura is triaged as appropriate for outpatient care, you collaborate to update the safety plan, regular follow-ups are scheduled, and a mental health referral has been placed. Thus, there are tools to assist with screening, assessing, and triaging pediatric patients with suicidal ideation that provide the patient with appropriate care and treatment and may help alleviate the need to have a patient present to the emergency department.

Dr. Abdul-Karim is a child psychiatrist at the University of Vermont University Children’s Hospital in Burlington.

Additional resources

The American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry has developed information that can be provided to families about suicide safety precautions that can be taken at home, which can be found here: Facts for Families. Suicide Safety: Precautions at Home.

Screening tools listed above can be found here:

ASQ Toolkit.

C-SSRS.

PHQ-9 Modified for Adolescents (PHQ-A).

References

1. Curtin SC. National Center for Health Statistics. “State Suicide Rates Among Adolescents and Young Adults Aged 10-24: United States, 2000-2018” National Vital Statistics Reports..

2. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Health Statistics. “Underlying Cause of Death 2018-2019” CDC WONDER Online Database. Accessed 2021 Jul 31, 6:57:39 p.m.

3. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 1991-2019 High School Youth Risk Behavior Survey Data.

Case vignette: Laura is a 14-year-old biological girl who presents to your office for a routine well-child visit. She is doing well medically but notes that over the past 3 months she has been having increasing thoughts of suicide and has self-harmed via cutting on her wrists with a blade removed from a shaving razor. You contemplate what the most salient questions are in order to determine the best disposition for your patient.

The case vignette above may sound like one that you have heard before, and if not, you undoubtedly will encounter such a situation moving forward. The rate of suicidal ideation amongst youth ages 10-24 has increased by 57.4% between 2007 and 2018.¹ Furthermore, suicide is the second leading cause of death in those aged 10 through young adulthood.² According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s 2019 High School Youth Risk Behavior Survey, 18.8% of high school students seriously considered attempting suicide, 15.7% made a plan about how they would attempt suicide, and 8.9% actually attempted suicide, with 2.5% having a suicide attempt that resulted in an injury, poisoning, or overdose that had to be treated by a doctor or nurse during the 12 months before the survey.³ Children often present first to their primary care provider, and they may be the first individual who the child shares their suicidal or self-harm thoughts with. It may be useful to have a standardized approach, while using your own clinical judgment, to determine best next steps. Given the significant recent surge in children presenting to the emergency department for psychiatric needs and that environment having its own limitations (for example, long wait times, nontherapeutic space, etc.), a simple screen and brief assessment may lead to being able to maintain a patient safely outside of the hospital.
 

Screen all appropriate patients for suicide

There are, at minimum, three validated screening tools that can be used as to determine what the best next step should be. They include the Ask Suicide-Screening Questions (ASQ) developed by the National Institute of Mental Health, the Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS), and the PHQ-9 (modified for adolescents). We can highlight one of the screening tools here as noted below, but the choice of screener may be based on facility and/or clinician preference.

The Ask Suicide-Screening Questions

The ASQ, developed by the National Institute of Mental Health, include the following four binary questions plus a fifth acuity question, as follows:

1. In the past few weeks, have you wished you were dead?

2. In the past few weeks, have you felt that you or your family would be better off if you were dead?

3. In the past week, have you been having thoughts about killing yourself?

4. Have you ever tried to kill yourself?

a. If yes, how?

b. When?

The following acuity question is to be asked if any of the above are answered “yes”:

5. Are you having thoughts of killing yourself right now?

a. If yes, please describe.
 

Assess the level of risk

Once you have screened a patient, you need to assess the level of risk to help determine the level of care required. Returning to our original case vignette, does the patient warrant outpatient management, crisis evaluation, or an emergency psychiatric evaluation? You may have already decided that the patient needs an emergency mental health evaluation from a local crisis clinician evaluation and/or the emergency department. However, you may also find that the screen did not elicit imminent concern, but it does warrant a brief assessment to further elucidate the level of risk and proper disposition. One such instrument that may be helpful is the Brief Suicide Safety Assessment (BSSA) – also developed by the NIMH as a tool linked to the ASQ. There are clear and specific instructions in the BSSA with suggestions on how to ask questions. Important components to the BSSA include:

• A focus on a more thorough clinical history – including frequency of suicidal ideation, suicide plan, past behavior, associated symptoms, and social support/stressors
• Collateral information (e.g., further details from those who know the patient such as family/friends).
• Safety planning.
• Determining disposition.

The BSSA may suggest that a crisis/psychiatric evaluation is warranted or suggest that a safety plan with a mental health referral will likely be sufficient.
 

Triage and safety planning

A safety plan should be created if you determine that a patient can be safely maintained as an outpatient based on your screening, assessment, and triaging. Traditional safety plans come in many different forms and can be found online (Example of a Safety Plan Template). However, most safety plans include some version of the following:

• Increased supervision: 24/7 supervision with doors open/unlocked.
• Reduced access: medications (prescription and OTC) locked away; sharps and firearms secured.
• Adaptive coping strategies (e.g., relaxation techniques such as drawing or listening to music).
• Reliable persons for support (e.g., parent, therapist, school counselor).
• Outpatient mental health provider follow-up and/or referral.
• Provision of local crisis and national hotline contact information.
• Use of a safety plan phone app completed with patient.

Envision a safety plan as a living document that evolves, grows, and changes with your patient/family – one that can be easily reviewed/updated at each visit.
 

Returning to our case vignette

Laura returns to your office for a follow-up after a 10-day stay at a hospital-diversion program or inpatient psychiatric unit. The decision is made to use the primary care NIMH ASQ/BSSA algorithm, and you determine the patient to not be at imminent risk following the screen and assessment. Laura is triaged as appropriate for outpatient care, you collaborate to update the safety plan, regular follow-ups are scheduled, and a mental health referral has been placed. Thus, there are tools to assist with screening, assessing, and triaging pediatric patients with suicidal ideation that provide the patient with appropriate care and treatment and may help alleviate the need to have a patient present to the emergency department.

Dr. Abdul-Karim is a child psychiatrist at the University of Vermont University Children’s Hospital in Burlington.

Additional resources

The American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry has developed information that can be provided to families about suicide safety precautions that can be taken at home, which can be found here: Facts for Families. Suicide Safety: Precautions at Home.

Screening tools listed above can be found here:

ASQ Toolkit.

C-SSRS.

PHQ-9 Modified for Adolescents (PHQ-A).

References

1. Curtin SC. National Center for Health Statistics. “State Suicide Rates Among Adolescents and Young Adults Aged 10-24: United States, 2000-2018” National Vital Statistics Reports..

2. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Health Statistics. “Underlying Cause of Death 2018-2019” CDC WONDER Online Database. Accessed 2021 Jul 31, 6:57:39 p.m.

3. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 1991-2019 High School Youth Risk Behavior Survey Data.