Commentary

As pediatricians, we are acutely aware of the increase in depression in our teen patients. Lifetime prevalence is now approaching 20%, and we are doing our best to help.

The Guidelines for Adolescent Depression in Primary Care (GLAD-PC, 2018) has advice on screening and primary care provider (PCP) management, verifying our role in care. But GLAD-PC also advises “referral to a mental health specialist” in patient scenarios we see multiple times per week. Even when patients are willing and able to go, mental health specialists are in short supply or have months-long waiting lists. What should we do to help the more severely depressed adolescent when immediate referral is not possible? What should we expect of specialist care for what is called treatment-resistant or treatment-refractory depression (TRD)?

To know what to do for a youth with TRD, first you need to know what constitutes an adequate trial of treatment. After diagnosis of major depressive disorder (MDD) from a validated screening tool or an interview based on DSM-5 criteria and an appropriate assessment (as described in GLAD-PC), patients and parents need education on symptoms, course, prognosis including suicide risk, and treatment options. Known TRD risk factors, besides longer or greater depression severity, anhedonia, and poor global functioning, can benefit from being specifically addressed: trauma, bullying, comorbid anxiety or substance use, subsyndromal mania, insomnia, hypothyroidism, nutritional deficiencies from eating disorders, certain genetic variants, LGBTQ identification, family conflict, and parental depression. Screening and assessment for suicidal ideation/attempts is needed initially and in follow-up as MDD increases risk of suicide 30 times.

PCPs can manage mild depression with regular visits every 1-2 weeks for active support for 6-8 weeks. Advise all depressed youth on healthy eating, adequate sleep and exercise, pleasurable activities, and refraining from substance use. With a full response (50%+ reduction in symptom score from baseline), monthly monitoring for symptoms, suicidality, and stressors (phone/televisits suffice) should continue for 6-24 months as half recur. Monitoring with ratings by both youth and parent are recommended and may be required by insurers. Scores below cutoff suggest “remission,” although functioning must be considered. Youth report symptoms best but parents may better report improved functioning and affect that can precede symptom reduction.

If there is no initial response (< 25% decrease in symptom score) or a partial response (25%-49% decrease), PCPs should begin treatment as for moderate depression with either a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) or psychotherapy. Use of both has the best evidence; cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) and interpersonal psychotherapy for adolescents are equally effective.

Side effects from SSRIs are almost universal with GI upset, headaches, and sexual dysfunction most common, but activation (increased agitation or irritability) may occur. Educate patients about these and encourage tolerating them as they tend to subside in weeks, allowing continuation of these most effective medicines. Activation rarely indicates true mania, which would require stopping and referral.

Moderate depression with only comorbid anxiety may be addressed by PCPs with problem-focused supportive counseling and SSRIs, but mental health consultation or referral also are appropriate. Fluoxetine starting at 5-10 mg/day has best evidence and Food and Drug Administration approval for MDD from age 8. Starting at a higher dose may increase risk of suicidal ideation. Alternatively, escitalopram is FDA approved for MDD at age 12 starting at 10 mg/day, although meta-analyses do not distinguish effectiveness within the SSRI class. Although benefit usually appears within 2 weeks, a trial of at least 4 weeks should be used to assess effect.

If after 4 weeks, the SSRI is tolerated but has little or no response, reassess the diagnosis, try a different SSRI, e.g. sertraline, and add CBT (combined SSRI+CBT has an advantage). To switch SSRIs, reduce the first every 1-2 weeks (by 10-20 mg for fluoxetine; 5-10 for escitalopram) to reduce side effects. If overlapping, the replacement SSRI may start midway in the wean at low dose with patients educated about serotonin syndrome. If instead there was a partial response to the initial SSRI, progressively increase the dose (by 10 mg for fluoxetine or 5 mg for escitalopram monthly) as indicated by symptom change up to the maximum (60-80 mg fluoxetine or 20 mg escitalopram), if needed, and maintain for another 4 weeks. Alternatively, or in addition, start psychotherapy or ask to change current therapy, as therapy focus makes a difference in effect. Initial CBT focus on anxiety acts fastest when anxiety is comorbid.

Once a regimen produces a response, maintain it for 16-20 weeks, the longer for more severe depression. Although three-fourths of mildly to moderately depressed youth are late responders, emerging near 6 weeks, a rapid initial response is associated with better outcome. The recommended 8 weeks on a final tolerated dose constituting an adequate trial before changing may be shortened to 6 weeks in severe unremitting cases. Youth not remitting by 12 weeks should be offered alternative treatment. Referral is recommended for moderately severe depression with comorbidity or severe depression but also for unresponsive moderate depression or by family or clinician preference.

Treatment-resistant depression is defined as “clinically impairing depression symptoms despite an adequate trial of an evidence-based psychotherapy and an antidepressant with grade A evidence (fluoxetine, escitalopram, or sertraline),” sequentially or together; treatment-refractory depression comprises the above with failure on at least two antidepressants, with at least one being grade A. Unfortunately, TRD occurs in 30%-40% of children and remission is only 30%. Low adherence based on pill counts (> 30% missed) or with therapy (fewer than nine visits) should be considered in treatment failures.

With manageable factors addressed, the next step for TRD is treatment augmentation. The best evidence-based augmentation for TRD is CBT; 55% of those receiving CBT responded within 12 weeks. TRD augmentations and interventions with evidence in adults have either no evidence of effect in children (SNRIs, lithium), no randomized controlled trials, or support only from small suggestive studies, e.g., antipsychotics, 16 g/day omega-3 fatty acid supplementation, folic acid supplementation, repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation, electroconvulsive therapy, or ketamine. Prompt referral to a child psychiatrist is essential for youth classified as TRD as earlier more aggressive treatment may avoid the long-term morbidity of chronic depression.

Fortunately, a meta-analysis of studies showed that PCP medication management visits with monitoring could improve outcomes, even for TRD.
 

Dr. Howard is assistant professor of pediatrics at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and creator of CHADIS (www.CHADIS.com). She had no other relevant disclosures. Dr. Howard’s contribution to this publication was as a paid expert to MDedge News. E-mail her at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Reference

Dwyer J et al. Annual research review: Defining and treating pediatric treatment-resistant depression. J Child Psychol Psychiatry. 2020 March;61(3):312-32.

As pediatricians, we are acutely aware of the increase in depression in our teen patients. Lifetime prevalence is now approaching 20%, and we are doing our best to help.

The Guidelines for Adolescent Depression in Primary Care (GLAD-PC, 2018) has advice on screening and primary care provider (PCP) management, verifying our role in care. But GLAD-PC also advises “referral to a mental health specialist” in patient scenarios we see multiple times per week. Even when patients are willing and able to go, mental health specialists are in short supply or have months-long waiting lists. What should we do to help the more severely depressed adolescent when immediate referral is not possible? What should we expect of specialist care for what is called treatment-resistant or treatment-refractory depression (TRD)?

To know what to do for a youth with TRD, first you need to know what constitutes an adequate trial of treatment. After diagnosis of major depressive disorder (MDD) from a validated screening tool or an interview based on DSM-5 criteria and an appropriate assessment (as described in GLAD-PC), patients and parents need education on symptoms, course, prognosis including suicide risk, and treatment options. Known TRD risk factors, besides longer or greater depression severity, anhedonia, and poor global functioning, can benefit from being specifically addressed: trauma, bullying, comorbid anxiety or substance use, subsyndromal mania, insomnia, hypothyroidism, nutritional deficiencies from eating disorders, certain genetic variants, LGBTQ identification, family conflict, and parental depression. Screening and assessment for suicidal ideation/attempts is needed initially and in follow-up as MDD increases risk of suicide 30 times.

PCPs can manage mild depression with regular visits every 1-2 weeks for active support for 6-8 weeks. Advise all depressed youth on healthy eating, adequate sleep and exercise, pleasurable activities, and refraining from substance use. With a full response (50%+ reduction in symptom score from baseline), monthly monitoring for symptoms, suicidality, and stressors (phone/televisits suffice) should continue for 6-24 months as half recur. Monitoring with ratings by both youth and parent are recommended and may be required by insurers. Scores below cutoff suggest “remission,” although functioning must be considered. Youth report symptoms best but parents may better report improved functioning and affect that can precede symptom reduction.

If there is no initial response (< 25% decrease in symptom score) or a partial response (25%-49% decrease), PCPs should begin treatment as for moderate depression with either a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) or psychotherapy. Use of both has the best evidence; cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) and interpersonal psychotherapy for adolescents are equally effective.

Side effects from SSRIs are almost universal with GI upset, headaches, and sexual dysfunction most common, but activation (increased agitation or irritability) may occur. Educate patients about these and encourage tolerating them as they tend to subside in weeks, allowing continuation of these most effective medicines. Activation rarely indicates true mania, which would require stopping and referral.

Moderate depression with only comorbid anxiety may be addressed by PCPs with problem-focused supportive counseling and SSRIs, but mental health consultation or referral also are appropriate. Fluoxetine starting at 5-10 mg/day has best evidence and Food and Drug Administration approval for MDD from age 8. Starting at a higher dose may increase risk of suicidal ideation. Alternatively, escitalopram is FDA approved for MDD at age 12 starting at 10 mg/day, although meta-analyses do not distinguish effectiveness within the SSRI class. Although benefit usually appears within 2 weeks, a trial of at least 4 weeks should be used to assess effect.

If after 4 weeks, the SSRI is tolerated but has little or no response, reassess the diagnosis, try a different SSRI, e.g. sertraline, and add CBT (combined SSRI+CBT has an advantage). To switch SSRIs, reduce the first every 1-2 weeks (by 10-20 mg for fluoxetine; 5-10 for escitalopram) to reduce side effects. If overlapping, the replacement SSRI may start midway in the wean at low dose with patients educated about serotonin syndrome. If instead there was a partial response to the initial SSRI, progressively increase the dose (by 10 mg for fluoxetine or 5 mg for escitalopram monthly) as indicated by symptom change up to the maximum (60-80 mg fluoxetine or 20 mg escitalopram), if needed, and maintain for another 4 weeks. Alternatively, or in addition, start psychotherapy or ask to change current therapy, as therapy focus makes a difference in effect. Initial CBT focus on anxiety acts fastest when anxiety is comorbid.

Once a regimen produces a response, maintain it for 16-20 weeks, the longer for more severe depression. Although three-fourths of mildly to moderately depressed youth are late responders, emerging near 6 weeks, a rapid initial response is associated with better outcome. The recommended 8 weeks on a final tolerated dose constituting an adequate trial before changing may be shortened to 6 weeks in severe unremitting cases. Youth not remitting by 12 weeks should be offered alternative treatment. Referral is recommended for moderately severe depression with comorbidity or severe depression but also for unresponsive moderate depression or by family or clinician preference.

Treatment-resistant depression is defined as “clinically impairing depression symptoms despite an adequate trial of an evidence-based psychotherapy and an antidepressant with grade A evidence (fluoxetine, escitalopram, or sertraline),” sequentially or together; treatment-refractory depression comprises the above with failure on at least two antidepressants, with at least one being grade A. Unfortunately, TRD occurs in 30%-40% of children and remission is only 30%. Low adherence based on pill counts (> 30% missed) or with therapy (fewer than nine visits) should be considered in treatment failures.

With manageable factors addressed, the next step for TRD is treatment augmentation. The best evidence-based augmentation for TRD is CBT; 55% of those receiving CBT responded within 12 weeks. TRD augmentations and interventions with evidence in adults have either no evidence of effect in children (SNRIs, lithium), no randomized controlled trials, or support only from small suggestive studies, e.g., antipsychotics, 16 g/day omega-3 fatty acid supplementation, folic acid supplementation, repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation, electroconvulsive therapy, or ketamine. Prompt referral to a child psychiatrist is essential for youth classified as TRD as earlier more aggressive treatment may avoid the long-term morbidity of chronic depression.

Fortunately, a meta-analysis of studies showed that PCP medication management visits with monitoring could improve outcomes, even for TRD.
 

Dr. Howard is assistant professor of pediatrics at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and creator of CHADIS (www.CHADIS.com). She had no other relevant disclosures. Dr. Howard’s contribution to this publication was as a paid expert to MDedge News. E-mail her at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Reference

Dwyer J et al. Annual research review: Defining and treating pediatric treatment-resistant depression. J Child Psychol Psychiatry. 2020 March;61(3):312-32.

As pediatricians, we are acutely aware of the increase in depression in our teen patients. Lifetime prevalence is now approaching 20%, and we are doing our best to help.

The Guidelines for Adolescent Depression in Primary Care (GLAD-PC, 2018) has advice on screening and primary care provider (PCP) management, verifying our role in care. But GLAD-PC also advises “referral to a mental health specialist” in patient scenarios we see multiple times per week. Even when patients are willing and able to go, mental health specialists are in short supply or have months-long waiting lists. What should we do to help the more severely depressed adolescent when immediate referral is not possible? What should we expect of specialist care for what is called treatment-resistant or treatment-refractory depression (TRD)?

To know what to do for a youth with TRD, first you need to know what constitutes an adequate trial of treatment. After diagnosis of major depressive disorder (MDD) from a validated screening tool or an interview based on DSM-5 criteria and an appropriate assessment (as described in GLAD-PC), patients and parents need education on symptoms, course, prognosis including suicide risk, and treatment options. Known TRD risk factors, besides longer or greater depression severity, anhedonia, and poor global functioning, can benefit from being specifically addressed: trauma, bullying, comorbid anxiety or substance use, subsyndromal mania, insomnia, hypothyroidism, nutritional deficiencies from eating disorders, certain genetic variants, LGBTQ identification, family conflict, and parental depression. Screening and assessment for suicidal ideation/attempts is needed initially and in follow-up as MDD increases risk of suicide 30 times.

PCPs can manage mild depression with regular visits every 1-2 weeks for active support for 6-8 weeks. Advise all depressed youth on healthy eating, adequate sleep and exercise, pleasurable activities, and refraining from substance use. With a full response (50%+ reduction in symptom score from baseline), monthly monitoring for symptoms, suicidality, and stressors (phone/televisits suffice) should continue for 6-24 months as half recur. Monitoring with ratings by both youth and parent are recommended and may be required by insurers. Scores below cutoff suggest “remission,” although functioning must be considered. Youth report symptoms best but parents may better report improved functioning and affect that can precede symptom reduction.

If there is no initial response (< 25% decrease in symptom score) or a partial response (25%-49% decrease), PCPs should begin treatment as for moderate depression with either a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) or psychotherapy. Use of both has the best evidence; cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) and interpersonal psychotherapy for adolescents are equally effective.

Side effects from SSRIs are almost universal with GI upset, headaches, and sexual dysfunction most common, but activation (increased agitation or irritability) may occur. Educate patients about these and encourage tolerating them as they tend to subside in weeks, allowing continuation of these most effective medicines. Activation rarely indicates true mania, which would require stopping and referral.

Moderate depression with only comorbid anxiety may be addressed by PCPs with problem-focused supportive counseling and SSRIs, but mental health consultation or referral also are appropriate. Fluoxetine starting at 5-10 mg/day has best evidence and Food and Drug Administration approval for MDD from age 8. Starting at a higher dose may increase risk of suicidal ideation. Alternatively, escitalopram is FDA approved for MDD at age 12 starting at 10 mg/day, although meta-analyses do not distinguish effectiveness within the SSRI class. Although benefit usually appears within 2 weeks, a trial of at least 4 weeks should be used to assess effect.

If after 4 weeks, the SSRI is tolerated but has little or no response, reassess the diagnosis, try a different SSRI, e.g. sertraline, and add CBT (combined SSRI+CBT has an advantage). To switch SSRIs, reduce the first every 1-2 weeks (by 10-20 mg for fluoxetine; 5-10 for escitalopram) to reduce side effects. If overlapping, the replacement SSRI may start midway in the wean at low dose with patients educated about serotonin syndrome. If instead there was a partial response to the initial SSRI, progressively increase the dose (by 10 mg for fluoxetine or 5 mg for escitalopram monthly) as indicated by symptom change up to the maximum (60-80 mg fluoxetine or 20 mg escitalopram), if needed, and maintain for another 4 weeks. Alternatively, or in addition, start psychotherapy or ask to change current therapy, as therapy focus makes a difference in effect. Initial CBT focus on anxiety acts fastest when anxiety is comorbid.

Once a regimen produces a response, maintain it for 16-20 weeks, the longer for more severe depression. Although three-fourths of mildly to moderately depressed youth are late responders, emerging near 6 weeks, a rapid initial response is associated with better outcome. The recommended 8 weeks on a final tolerated dose constituting an adequate trial before changing may be shortened to 6 weeks in severe unremitting cases. Youth not remitting by 12 weeks should be offered alternative treatment. Referral is recommended for moderately severe depression with comorbidity or severe depression but also for unresponsive moderate depression or by family or clinician preference.

Treatment-resistant depression is defined as “clinically impairing depression symptoms despite an adequate trial of an evidence-based psychotherapy and an antidepressant with grade A evidence (fluoxetine, escitalopram, or sertraline),” sequentially or together; treatment-refractory depression comprises the above with failure on at least two antidepressants, with at least one being grade A. Unfortunately, TRD occurs in 30%-40% of children and remission is only 30%. Low adherence based on pill counts (> 30% missed) or with therapy (fewer than nine visits) should be considered in treatment failures.

With manageable factors addressed, the next step for TRD is treatment augmentation. The best evidence-based augmentation for TRD is CBT; 55% of those receiving CBT responded within 12 weeks. TRD augmentations and interventions with evidence in adults have either no evidence of effect in children (SNRIs, lithium), no randomized controlled trials, or support only from small suggestive studies, e.g., antipsychotics, 16 g/day omega-3 fatty acid supplementation, folic acid supplementation, repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation, electroconvulsive therapy, or ketamine. Prompt referral to a child psychiatrist is essential for youth classified as TRD as earlier more aggressive treatment may avoid the long-term morbidity of chronic depression.

Fortunately, a meta-analysis of studies showed that PCP medication management visits with monitoring could improve outcomes, even for TRD.
 

Dr. Howard is assistant professor of pediatrics at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and creator of CHADIS (www.CHADIS.com). She had no other relevant disclosures. Dr. Howard’s contribution to this publication was as a paid expert to MDedge News. E-mail her at pdnews@mdedge.com.

Reference

Dwyer J et al. Annual research review: Defining and treating pediatric treatment-resistant depression. J Child Psychol Psychiatry. 2020 March;61(3):312-32.

I write a lot about watershed moments in my career, things that proved to be moments of tremendous growth, as a person and as a doctor.

One of these occurred early in my career when I met a new patient with ovarian cancer. When I walked into the exam room, I made eye contact with the woman who was accompanied by a man. I assumed they were married, so I went to her first. I introduced myself, stating that I was here to talk about how best to treat her cancer. She stopped me quickly. “Doctor, I am not the patient,” she said. “He is.”

It was the first time I had cared for a transgender man with ovarian cancer. I recall how awkward the following moments were – for all of us. It was the first time I realized that cancer does not have a gender. Men can get breast cancer. Trans women can get prostate cancer. Trans men can get ovarian cancer.

But even many years later, we are not much further along in how prepared we are as a medical community to care for LGBTQ persons. Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people are not part of the normal medical school curriculum. For most medical students, LGBTQ health is still approached as an aside – perhaps during an infectious disease clerkship, while learning about STDs and HIV. Students do not learn how to approach the male couple seeking to become parents, STD risk reduction for gays and lesbians, or the trans man with ovarian cancer.

But they should, particularly in light of a 2015 study evaluating bias among U.S. medical students. The analysis found that about 45% of medical students exhibited explicit bias against LGBTQ individuals and 8 in 10 held an implicit bias. Fewer than 20% showed no evidence of bias. This lack of preparedness to treat LGBTQ individuals against a backdrop of bias in the medical community often leads patients to mistrust medicine.

To gain perspective outside of oncology, I spoke to Michelle Forcier (she/they), MD, MPH, assistant dean of admissions and professor of pediatrics at Brown University, Providence, R.I. Dr. Forcier agreed that “LGBTQ/rainbow health has been harmfully treated by the system, by both intention and by ignorance.”

“I have had patients who report that EMTs have tried to look under their clothes to determine their gender and transgender patients who have asked point blank to show a provider the results of gender reassignment surgery, not because it was relevant to the issue at hand, but purely out of curiosity,” Dr. Forcier continued. “Then there are the patients who are addressed by the name on their legal record rather than the name that reflects their actual lived experience and identity. These experiences foster this anticipation that is pervasive in this community, that something will be said or done that doesn’t fit who they are, and that ultimately will out them as ‘other.’ ”

I have also felt this sense of being “other” – something I thought I would be immune to as a physician. I have been asked on multiple occasions what my wife does for a living. Moments like this are always awkward. I’m either forced to come out of the closet yet again, or answer vaguely, as if I should be ashamed of my sexuality.

So, how can we move toward equity? Dr. Forcier explained how she lays the groundwork early. “I love pediatrics because kids know when you are being authentic,” she said. “I say who I am, I use she/they pronouns. I also teach by example. If there are more than just my patient in a room, I say, ‘Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves’ so all have a chance to tell me who they are and how they have come together. If it’s not clear to me, sometimes I prod: ‘How are you here to support [the patient]?’ ”

The point, according to Dr. Forcier: Don’t make assumptions about relationships when you walk into a room with more than one person. Don’t even make assumptions about who the patient is.

But bringing up gender and sexuality can be awkward. Even I sometimes have a hard time. In oncology, patients are there to talk about their cancer and what can be done about it.

“I think it’s really about how it’s framed,” Dr. Forcier said. “In pediatrics, I might start by prefacing it with ‘I am going to ask you some personal questions, and it might seem invasive, but it’s important for your health care. How do you see yourself in the world? What gender identity fits you the best? Who are you attracted to?’ And then I shut up. Doctors need to learn how to stop and wait, provide the space to answer.”

I can see why understanding our patients more deeply is important. We treat people with cancer, not cancer people. As such, understanding someone more fully includes being cognizant of how they identify.

“I am continuously inspired by my LGBTQ patients who have fought to realize who they are and become their truer selves,” Dr. Forcier said. “They know who they are, and they know what they need. They have learned to demand it, to demand that their rights be respected – both civil and human rights.”

As we look toward a future in medicine where diversity, equity, and inclusion have gained prominence and urgency, I think there is reason to be hopeful. In oncology, one institutional study published in 2017 found that, although only about a third of practicing clinicians surveyed were comfortable treating LGBTQ patients, 92% of them acknowledged our unique needs, 78% wanted more education on how to appropriately care for our community, and 64% wanted to be listed as an LGBTQ-friendly provider.

“As an optimist, I believe that those struggling with homophobia/transphobia are open to doing things better,” Dr. Forcier said. “After all, we all strive to be better doctors. Whether explicit or implicit bias is at play, turning moments where colleagues are being inappropriate and showing them an alternative, more inclusive way to handle things is one mechanism to educate, rather than to shame. The bottom line is simple: You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to try.”

Dr. Dizon is the director of women’s cancers at Lifespan Cancer Institute and director of medical oncology at Rhode Island Hospital, both in Providence. He is also a professor of medicine at Brown University. His research interests are in novel treatments of women’s cancers and issues related to survivorship, particularly as they relate to sexual health after cancer for both men and women.

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

I write a lot about watershed moments in my career, things that proved to be moments of tremendous growth, as a person and as a doctor.

One of these occurred early in my career when I met a new patient with ovarian cancer. When I walked into the exam room, I made eye contact with the woman who was accompanied by a man. I assumed they were married, so I went to her first. I introduced myself, stating that I was here to talk about how best to treat her cancer. She stopped me quickly. “Doctor, I am not the patient,” she said. “He is.”

It was the first time I had cared for a transgender man with ovarian cancer. I recall how awkward the following moments were – for all of us. It was the first time I realized that cancer does not have a gender. Men can get breast cancer. Trans women can get prostate cancer. Trans men can get ovarian cancer.

But even many years later, we are not much further along in how prepared we are as a medical community to care for LGBTQ persons. Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people are not part of the normal medical school curriculum. For most medical students, LGBTQ health is still approached as an aside – perhaps during an infectious disease clerkship, while learning about STDs and HIV. Students do not learn how to approach the male couple seeking to become parents, STD risk reduction for gays and lesbians, or the trans man with ovarian cancer.

But they should, particularly in light of a 2015 study evaluating bias among U.S. medical students. The analysis found that about 45% of medical students exhibited explicit bias against LGBTQ individuals and 8 in 10 held an implicit bias. Fewer than 20% showed no evidence of bias. This lack of preparedness to treat LGBTQ individuals against a backdrop of bias in the medical community often leads patients to mistrust medicine.

To gain perspective outside of oncology, I spoke to Michelle Forcier (she/they), MD, MPH, assistant dean of admissions and professor of pediatrics at Brown University, Providence, R.I. Dr. Forcier agreed that “LGBTQ/rainbow health has been harmfully treated by the system, by both intention and by ignorance.”

“I have had patients who report that EMTs have tried to look under their clothes to determine their gender and transgender patients who have asked point blank to show a provider the results of gender reassignment surgery, not because it was relevant to the issue at hand, but purely out of curiosity,” Dr. Forcier continued. “Then there are the patients who are addressed by the name on their legal record rather than the name that reflects their actual lived experience and identity. These experiences foster this anticipation that is pervasive in this community, that something will be said or done that doesn’t fit who they are, and that ultimately will out them as ‘other.’ ”

I have also felt this sense of being “other” – something I thought I would be immune to as a physician. I have been asked on multiple occasions what my wife does for a living. Moments like this are always awkward. I’m either forced to come out of the closet yet again, or answer vaguely, as if I should be ashamed of my sexuality.

So, how can we move toward equity? Dr. Forcier explained how she lays the groundwork early. “I love pediatrics because kids know when you are being authentic,” she said. “I say who I am, I use she/they pronouns. I also teach by example. If there are more than just my patient in a room, I say, ‘Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves’ so all have a chance to tell me who they are and how they have come together. If it’s not clear to me, sometimes I prod: ‘How are you here to support [the patient]?’ ”

The point, according to Dr. Forcier: Don’t make assumptions about relationships when you walk into a room with more than one person. Don’t even make assumptions about who the patient is.

But bringing up gender and sexuality can be awkward. Even I sometimes have a hard time. In oncology, patients are there to talk about their cancer and what can be done about it.

“I think it’s really about how it’s framed,” Dr. Forcier said. “In pediatrics, I might start by prefacing it with ‘I am going to ask you some personal questions, and it might seem invasive, but it’s important for your health care. How do you see yourself in the world? What gender identity fits you the best? Who are you attracted to?’ And then I shut up. Doctors need to learn how to stop and wait, provide the space to answer.”

I can see why understanding our patients more deeply is important. We treat people with cancer, not cancer people. As such, understanding someone more fully includes being cognizant of how they identify.

“I am continuously inspired by my LGBTQ patients who have fought to realize who they are and become their truer selves,” Dr. Forcier said. “They know who they are, and they know what they need. They have learned to demand it, to demand that their rights be respected – both civil and human rights.”

As we look toward a future in medicine where diversity, equity, and inclusion have gained prominence and urgency, I think there is reason to be hopeful. In oncology, one institutional study published in 2017 found that, although only about a third of practicing clinicians surveyed were comfortable treating LGBTQ patients, 92% of them acknowledged our unique needs, 78% wanted more education on how to appropriately care for our community, and 64% wanted to be listed as an LGBTQ-friendly provider.

“As an optimist, I believe that those struggling with homophobia/transphobia are open to doing things better,” Dr. Forcier said. “After all, we all strive to be better doctors. Whether explicit or implicit bias is at play, turning moments where colleagues are being inappropriate and showing them an alternative, more inclusive way to handle things is one mechanism to educate, rather than to shame. The bottom line is simple: You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to try.”

Dr. Dizon is the director of women’s cancers at Lifespan Cancer Institute and director of medical oncology at Rhode Island Hospital, both in Providence. He is also a professor of medicine at Brown University. His research interests are in novel treatments of women’s cancers and issues related to survivorship, particularly as they relate to sexual health after cancer for both men and women.

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

I write a lot about watershed moments in my career, things that proved to be moments of tremendous growth, as a person and as a doctor.

One of these occurred early in my career when I met a new patient with ovarian cancer. When I walked into the exam room, I made eye contact with the woman who was accompanied by a man. I assumed they were married, so I went to her first. I introduced myself, stating that I was here to talk about how best to treat her cancer. She stopped me quickly. “Doctor, I am not the patient,” she said. “He is.”

It was the first time I had cared for a transgender man with ovarian cancer. I recall how awkward the following moments were – for all of us. It was the first time I realized that cancer does not have a gender. Men can get breast cancer. Trans women can get prostate cancer. Trans men can get ovarian cancer.

But even many years later, we are not much further along in how prepared we are as a medical community to care for LGBTQ persons. Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people are not part of the normal medical school curriculum. For most medical students, LGBTQ health is still approached as an aside – perhaps during an infectious disease clerkship, while learning about STDs and HIV. Students do not learn how to approach the male couple seeking to become parents, STD risk reduction for gays and lesbians, or the trans man with ovarian cancer.

But they should, particularly in light of a 2015 study evaluating bias among U.S. medical students. The analysis found that about 45% of medical students exhibited explicit bias against LGBTQ individuals and 8 in 10 held an implicit bias. Fewer than 20% showed no evidence of bias. This lack of preparedness to treat LGBTQ individuals against a backdrop of bias in the medical community often leads patients to mistrust medicine.

To gain perspective outside of oncology, I spoke to Michelle Forcier (she/they), MD, MPH, assistant dean of admissions and professor of pediatrics at Brown University, Providence, R.I. Dr. Forcier agreed that “LGBTQ/rainbow health has been harmfully treated by the system, by both intention and by ignorance.”

“I have had patients who report that EMTs have tried to look under their clothes to determine their gender and transgender patients who have asked point blank to show a provider the results of gender reassignment surgery, not because it was relevant to the issue at hand, but purely out of curiosity,” Dr. Forcier continued. “Then there are the patients who are addressed by the name on their legal record rather than the name that reflects their actual lived experience and identity. These experiences foster this anticipation that is pervasive in this community, that something will be said or done that doesn’t fit who they are, and that ultimately will out them as ‘other.’ ”

I have also felt this sense of being “other” – something I thought I would be immune to as a physician. I have been asked on multiple occasions what my wife does for a living. Moments like this are always awkward. I’m either forced to come out of the closet yet again, or answer vaguely, as if I should be ashamed of my sexuality.

So, how can we move toward equity? Dr. Forcier explained how she lays the groundwork early. “I love pediatrics because kids know when you are being authentic,” she said. “I say who I am, I use she/they pronouns. I also teach by example. If there are more than just my patient in a room, I say, ‘Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves’ so all have a chance to tell me who they are and how they have come together. If it’s not clear to me, sometimes I prod: ‘How are you here to support [the patient]?’ ”

The point, according to Dr. Forcier: Don’t make assumptions about relationships when you walk into a room with more than one person. Don’t even make assumptions about who the patient is.

But bringing up gender and sexuality can be awkward. Even I sometimes have a hard time. In oncology, patients are there to talk about their cancer and what can be done about it.

“I think it’s really about how it’s framed,” Dr. Forcier said. “In pediatrics, I might start by prefacing it with ‘I am going to ask you some personal questions, and it might seem invasive, but it’s important for your health care. How do you see yourself in the world? What gender identity fits you the best? Who are you attracted to?’ And then I shut up. Doctors need to learn how to stop and wait, provide the space to answer.”

I can see why understanding our patients more deeply is important. We treat people with cancer, not cancer people. As such, understanding someone more fully includes being cognizant of how they identify.

“I am continuously inspired by my LGBTQ patients who have fought to realize who they are and become their truer selves,” Dr. Forcier said. “They know who they are, and they know what they need. They have learned to demand it, to demand that their rights be respected – both civil and human rights.”

As we look toward a future in medicine where diversity, equity, and inclusion have gained prominence and urgency, I think there is reason to be hopeful. In oncology, one institutional study published in 2017 found that, although only about a third of practicing clinicians surveyed were comfortable treating LGBTQ patients, 92% of them acknowledged our unique needs, 78% wanted more education on how to appropriately care for our community, and 64% wanted to be listed as an LGBTQ-friendly provider.

“As an optimist, I believe that those struggling with homophobia/transphobia are open to doing things better,” Dr. Forcier said. “After all, we all strive to be better doctors. Whether explicit or implicit bias is at play, turning moments where colleagues are being inappropriate and showing them an alternative, more inclusive way to handle things is one mechanism to educate, rather than to shame. The bottom line is simple: You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to try.”

Dr. Dizon is the director of women’s cancers at Lifespan Cancer Institute and director of medical oncology at Rhode Island Hospital, both in Providence. He is also a professor of medicine at Brown University. His research interests are in novel treatments of women’s cancers and issues related to survivorship, particularly as they relate to sexual health after cancer for both men and women.

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

In mid-July my son strained his neck working out at the gym.

It was an obvious generic muscle pull. I told him to take some ibuprofen and use a heating pad. My wife, a nurse, told him the same thing.

Regrettably, while my medical training (hopefully) counts for something with my patients, it doesn’t mean much to my kids. The unqualified opinions of their friends and Google are far more worthwhile, convincing him he had any number of serious injuries.

As a result, while we were at work he went to the emergency department to get checked out. He was evaluated by one of my colleagues who did x-rays and a cervical spine CT. (I figure the last one was because my son kept reminding them I was a doctor). After all the results were in, the ED physician told him he had a muscle strain, and to take ibuprofen and use a heating pad.

Big surprise, huh? I’m sure he was shocked to find out that his old man knew what he was doing. Of course, I didn’t order any tests so the ED doc tops me for that in my son’s mind.

But kids not believing their parents is nothing new, and I can’t claim innocence either from what I remember of being a teenager.

Fast-forward to today. From what I can see, the total bills for his little adventure in modern medicine were around $4,000-$5,000. Granted, I’m well aware that what gets charged has no relationship to what’s actually going to be collected but I’m not going to write about modern medical charges or collections or even defensive medicine. I understand all those, and certainly don’t fault my ED colleague for how he handled it.

Reassurance isn’t cheap, though. When it’s all over, our out-of-pocket share will be roughly $1,000, which we certainly hadn’t planned for in the usually money-tight months of December and January.

That’s a lot of money for ibuprofen and a heating pad (we had both at home, and they’re around $20 total at Target, anyway).

There’s certainly no shortage of research on unnecessary ED visits for minor things, but to me this is a classic example of it. Beyond just the financial cost (which, admittedly, I’m pretty irritated with him about) he tied up a bed and ED staff that someone in more dire circumstances may have needed.

His injury could have been handled at an urgent care, or, even better, just by staying home, listening to us, and using ibuprofen and a heating pad.

We need to emphasize to kids – and the general population – that the emergency department is for emergencies, and clarify what constitutes an emergency in the first place. There’s no shortage of urgent cares and other walk-in clinics that are there specifically to handle such things during daylight hours, if they need to be seen at all.

Of course, I can’t change the results of Google searches, or the age-old teenage belief that parents are morons.

But he is going to learn about what constitutes an emergency, and what else that $1,000 could have been used for.

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

In mid-July my son strained his neck working out at the gym.

It was an obvious generic muscle pull. I told him to take some ibuprofen and use a heating pad. My wife, a nurse, told him the same thing.

Regrettably, while my medical training (hopefully) counts for something with my patients, it doesn’t mean much to my kids. The unqualified opinions of their friends and Google are far more worthwhile, convincing him he had any number of serious injuries.

As a result, while we were at work he went to the emergency department to get checked out. He was evaluated by one of my colleagues who did x-rays and a cervical spine CT. (I figure the last one was because my son kept reminding them I was a doctor). After all the results were in, the ED physician told him he had a muscle strain, and to take ibuprofen and use a heating pad.

Big surprise, huh? I’m sure he was shocked to find out that his old man knew what he was doing. Of course, I didn’t order any tests so the ED doc tops me for that in my son’s mind.

But kids not believing their parents is nothing new, and I can’t claim innocence either from what I remember of being a teenager.

Fast-forward to today. From what I can see, the total bills for his little adventure in modern medicine were around $4,000-$5,000. Granted, I’m well aware that what gets charged has no relationship to what’s actually going to be collected but I’m not going to write about modern medical charges or collections or even defensive medicine. I understand all those, and certainly don’t fault my ED colleague for how he handled it.

Reassurance isn’t cheap, though. When it’s all over, our out-of-pocket share will be roughly $1,000, which we certainly hadn’t planned for in the usually money-tight months of December and January.

That’s a lot of money for ibuprofen and a heating pad (we had both at home, and they’re around $20 total at Target, anyway).

There’s certainly no shortage of research on unnecessary ED visits for minor things, but to me this is a classic example of it. Beyond just the financial cost (which, admittedly, I’m pretty irritated with him about) he tied up a bed and ED staff that someone in more dire circumstances may have needed.

His injury could have been handled at an urgent care, or, even better, just by staying home, listening to us, and using ibuprofen and a heating pad.

We need to emphasize to kids – and the general population – that the emergency department is for emergencies, and clarify what constitutes an emergency in the first place. There’s no shortage of urgent cares and other walk-in clinics that are there specifically to handle such things during daylight hours, if they need to be seen at all.

Of course, I can’t change the results of Google searches, or the age-old teenage belief that parents are morons.

But he is going to learn about what constitutes an emergency, and what else that $1,000 could have been used for.

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

In mid-July my son strained his neck working out at the gym.

It was an obvious generic muscle pull. I told him to take some ibuprofen and use a heating pad. My wife, a nurse, told him the same thing.

Regrettably, while my medical training (hopefully) counts for something with my patients, it doesn’t mean much to my kids. The unqualified opinions of their friends and Google are far more worthwhile, convincing him he had any number of serious injuries.

As a result, while we were at work he went to the emergency department to get checked out. He was evaluated by one of my colleagues who did x-rays and a cervical spine CT. (I figure the last one was because my son kept reminding them I was a doctor). After all the results were in, the ED physician told him he had a muscle strain, and to take ibuprofen and use a heating pad.

Big surprise, huh? I’m sure he was shocked to find out that his old man knew what he was doing. Of course, I didn’t order any tests so the ED doc tops me for that in my son’s mind.

But kids not believing their parents is nothing new, and I can’t claim innocence either from what I remember of being a teenager.

Fast-forward to today. From what I can see, the total bills for his little adventure in modern medicine were around $4,000-$5,000. Granted, I’m well aware that what gets charged has no relationship to what’s actually going to be collected but I’m not going to write about modern medical charges or collections or even defensive medicine. I understand all those, and certainly don’t fault my ED colleague for how he handled it.

Reassurance isn’t cheap, though. When it’s all over, our out-of-pocket share will be roughly $1,000, which we certainly hadn’t planned for in the usually money-tight months of December and January.

That’s a lot of money for ibuprofen and a heating pad (we had both at home, and they’re around $20 total at Target, anyway).

There’s certainly no shortage of research on unnecessary ED visits for minor things, but to me this is a classic example of it. Beyond just the financial cost (which, admittedly, I’m pretty irritated with him about) he tied up a bed and ED staff that someone in more dire circumstances may have needed.

His injury could have been handled at an urgent care, or, even better, just by staying home, listening to us, and using ibuprofen and a heating pad.

We need to emphasize to kids – and the general population – that the emergency department is for emergencies, and clarify what constitutes an emergency in the first place. There’s no shortage of urgent cares and other walk-in clinics that are there specifically to handle such things during daylight hours, if they need to be seen at all.

Of course, I can’t change the results of Google searches, or the age-old teenage belief that parents are morons.

But he is going to learn about what constitutes an emergency, and what else that $1,000 could have been used for.

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

Decades before becoming the go-to authority in the United States on the COVID-19 global pandemic, Anthony S. Fauci, MD, found himself witnessing the earliest perplexing cases of what would become another devastating global pandemic – HIV/AIDS. And while extraordinary advances have transformed treatment and prevention, glaring treatment gaps and challenges remain after 40 years.

“I certainly remember those initial MMWRs [the Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Reports] in the summer of 1981 that introduced us to what would turn out to be the most extraordinary and devastating pandemic of an infectious disease up until that time in the modern era,” said Dr. Fauci when addressing the 2021 United States Conference on HIV/AIDS.

“Now, 40 years into it, we are still in the middle of a global pandemic despite the fact that there have been extraordinary advances,” said Dr. Fauci, who is director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and chief medical advisor to the President of the United States.

Specifically, it was on June 5, 1981, that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued its fateful report on the first five cases of what would soon become known as Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.

By 2020, the 5 cases had grown to 79.3 million HIV infections since the start of the HIV/AIDS pandemic, claiming 36.3 million lives, according to the NAIDS Global AIDS update, Dr. Fauci reported.

At the end of 2020, there were 1.5 million new infections, as many as 37.7 million people living with HIV, and 680,000 deaths, according to the report.

The fact that so many people are living with HIV – and not dying from it – is largely attributable to “breathtaking” advances in treatment, Dr. Fauci said, underscoring the fact that there are now 13 single-tablet, once-daily, antiretroviral (ART) regimens approved in the United States to replace the multidrug cocktail that has long been necessary with HIV treatment.

“I can remember when the combination therapies were first made available, we were giving patients literally dozens of pills of different types each day, but that is no longer the case,” Dr. Fauci said.

“We can say, without hyperbole, that highly effective antiretroviral therapy for HIV is indeed one of the most important biomedical research advances of our era.”

Furthermore, HIV prevention using pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), when used optimally and consistently, has further transformed the HIV landscape with 99% efficacy in preventing sexual HIV acquisition.
 

Troubling treatment gaps

Despite the advances, disparities and challenges are abundant, Dr. Fauci said.

Notably, the majority of those infected globally – 65% – are concentrated among key populations, including gay men and other men who have sex with men (23%), clients of sex workers (20%), sex workers (11%), people who inject drugs (9%), and transgender people (2%), according to the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS.

According to UNAIDS, among the 37.7 million people living with HIV at the end of 2020, 27.5 million were being treated with life-saving ART, leaving a gap of 10.2 million people with HIV who are not receiving the treatment, Dr. Fauci pointed out.

And of those who do receive treatment, retention is suboptimal, with only about 65% of patients in low- and middle-income countries being retained in care at 48 months following ART initiation.

Dr. Fauci underscored encouraging developments that could address some of those problems, notably long-acting ART therapies that, in requiring administration only every 6 months or so, could negate the need for adherence to daily ART therapy.

Likewise, long-acting PrEP provided intermittently over longer periods could prevent transmission.

“We’re looking at [long-acting PrEP] with a great deal of enthusiasm as providing protection with longer durations between doses to get people to essentially have close to 99% protection against HIV acquisition,” Dr. Fauci said.

While several efforts to develop vaccines for HIV in long-term clinical trials have had disappointing results, Dr. Fauci says he stops short of calling them failures.

“We don’t consider the trials to be failures because, in fact, they tell us the way we need to go – which direction,” he said.

“In fact, COVID-19 itself has given us new enthusiasm about the use of vaccine platforms such as mRNA that are now being applied in the vaccine quest for HIV,” Dr. Fauci noted.

Ultimately, “we must steadily and steadfastly move forward to address critical research gaps and unanswered questions [regarding HIV],” Dr. Fauci said. “The scientific advances have been breathtaking and it is up to us to [achieve] greater scientific advances, but also to translate them into something that can be implemented.”

USCHA Executive Director Paul Kawata, MD, commented that he shares Dr. Fauci’s optimism — and his concerns.

“NMAC [formerly the National Minority AIDS Council, which runs USCHA] is very excited about the science,” he said in an interview. “Our ability to make treatment easier should be a pathway to success.”

“Our concern is that we need more implementation science to know if long-acting ART will be used by the communities hardest hit by HIV,” he said.

Dr. Kawata noted that NMAC agrees that vaccine trial “failures” can offer important lessons, “but we are getting impatient,” he said. “Back in the 80s, Secretary Margret Heckler said we would have a vaccine in 5 years.”

Furthermore, ongoing racial disparities, left unaddressed, will hold back meaningful progress in the fight against HIV, he noted. “We are always hopeful, [but] the reality is that race and racism play an outsized role in health outcome in America. Unless we address these inequalities, we will never end HIV.”

NMAC receives funding from Gilead, Viiv, Merck, and Janssen.

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

Decades before becoming the go-to authority in the United States on the COVID-19 global pandemic, Anthony S. Fauci, MD, found himself witnessing the earliest perplexing cases of what would become another devastating global pandemic – HIV/AIDS. And while extraordinary advances have transformed treatment and prevention, glaring treatment gaps and challenges remain after 40 years.

“I certainly remember those initial MMWRs [the Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Reports] in the summer of 1981 that introduced us to what would turn out to be the most extraordinary and devastating pandemic of an infectious disease up until that time in the modern era,” said Dr. Fauci when addressing the 2021 United States Conference on HIV/AIDS.

“Now, 40 years into it, we are still in the middle of a global pandemic despite the fact that there have been extraordinary advances,” said Dr. Fauci, who is director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and chief medical advisor to the President of the United States.

Specifically, it was on June 5, 1981, that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued its fateful report on the first five cases of what would soon become known as Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.

By 2020, the 5 cases had grown to 79.3 million HIV infections since the start of the HIV/AIDS pandemic, claiming 36.3 million lives, according to the NAIDS Global AIDS update, Dr. Fauci reported.

At the end of 2020, there were 1.5 million new infections, as many as 37.7 million people living with HIV, and 680,000 deaths, according to the report.

The fact that so many people are living with HIV – and not dying from it – is largely attributable to “breathtaking” advances in treatment, Dr. Fauci said, underscoring the fact that there are now 13 single-tablet, once-daily, antiretroviral (ART) regimens approved in the United States to replace the multidrug cocktail that has long been necessary with HIV treatment.

“I can remember when the combination therapies were first made available, we were giving patients literally dozens of pills of different types each day, but that is no longer the case,” Dr. Fauci said.

“We can say, without hyperbole, that highly effective antiretroviral therapy for HIV is indeed one of the most important biomedical research advances of our era.”

Furthermore, HIV prevention using pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), when used optimally and consistently, has further transformed the HIV landscape with 99% efficacy in preventing sexual HIV acquisition.
 

Troubling treatment gaps

Despite the advances, disparities and challenges are abundant, Dr. Fauci said.

Notably, the majority of those infected globally – 65% – are concentrated among key populations, including gay men and other men who have sex with men (23%), clients of sex workers (20%), sex workers (11%), people who inject drugs (9%), and transgender people (2%), according to the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS.

According to UNAIDS, among the 37.7 million people living with HIV at the end of 2020, 27.5 million were being treated with life-saving ART, leaving a gap of 10.2 million people with HIV who are not receiving the treatment, Dr. Fauci pointed out.

And of those who do receive treatment, retention is suboptimal, with only about 65% of patients in low- and middle-income countries being retained in care at 48 months following ART initiation.

Dr. Fauci underscored encouraging developments that could address some of those problems, notably long-acting ART therapies that, in requiring administration only every 6 months or so, could negate the need for adherence to daily ART therapy.

Likewise, long-acting PrEP provided intermittently over longer periods could prevent transmission.

“We’re looking at [long-acting PrEP] with a great deal of enthusiasm as providing protection with longer durations between doses to get people to essentially have close to 99% protection against HIV acquisition,” Dr. Fauci said.

While several efforts to develop vaccines for HIV in long-term clinical trials have had disappointing results, Dr. Fauci says he stops short of calling them failures.

“We don’t consider the trials to be failures because, in fact, they tell us the way we need to go – which direction,” he said.

“In fact, COVID-19 itself has given us new enthusiasm about the use of vaccine platforms such as mRNA that are now being applied in the vaccine quest for HIV,” Dr. Fauci noted.

Ultimately, “we must steadily and steadfastly move forward to address critical research gaps and unanswered questions [regarding HIV],” Dr. Fauci said. “The scientific advances have been breathtaking and it is up to us to [achieve] greater scientific advances, but also to translate them into something that can be implemented.”

USCHA Executive Director Paul Kawata, MD, commented that he shares Dr. Fauci’s optimism — and his concerns.

“NMAC [formerly the National Minority AIDS Council, which runs USCHA] is very excited about the science,” he said in an interview. “Our ability to make treatment easier should be a pathway to success.”

“Our concern is that we need more implementation science to know if long-acting ART will be used by the communities hardest hit by HIV,” he said.

Dr. Kawata noted that NMAC agrees that vaccine trial “failures” can offer important lessons, “but we are getting impatient,” he said. “Back in the 80s, Secretary Margret Heckler said we would have a vaccine in 5 years.”

Furthermore, ongoing racial disparities, left unaddressed, will hold back meaningful progress in the fight against HIV, he noted. “We are always hopeful, [but] the reality is that race and racism play an outsized role in health outcome in America. Unless we address these inequalities, we will never end HIV.”

NMAC receives funding from Gilead, Viiv, Merck, and Janssen.

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

Decades before becoming the go-to authority in the United States on the COVID-19 global pandemic, Anthony S. Fauci, MD, found himself witnessing the earliest perplexing cases of what would become another devastating global pandemic – HIV/AIDS. And while extraordinary advances have transformed treatment and prevention, glaring treatment gaps and challenges remain after 40 years.

“I certainly remember those initial MMWRs [the Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Reports] in the summer of 1981 that introduced us to what would turn out to be the most extraordinary and devastating pandemic of an infectious disease up until that time in the modern era,” said Dr. Fauci when addressing the 2021 United States Conference on HIV/AIDS.

“Now, 40 years into it, we are still in the middle of a global pandemic despite the fact that there have been extraordinary advances,” said Dr. Fauci, who is director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and chief medical advisor to the President of the United States.

Specifically, it was on June 5, 1981, that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention issued its fateful report on the first five cases of what would soon become known as Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.

By 2020, the 5 cases had grown to 79.3 million HIV infections since the start of the HIV/AIDS pandemic, claiming 36.3 million lives, according to the NAIDS Global AIDS update, Dr. Fauci reported.

At the end of 2020, there were 1.5 million new infections, as many as 37.7 million people living with HIV, and 680,000 deaths, according to the report.

The fact that so many people are living with HIV – and not dying from it – is largely attributable to “breathtaking” advances in treatment, Dr. Fauci said, underscoring the fact that there are now 13 single-tablet, once-daily, antiretroviral (ART) regimens approved in the United States to replace the multidrug cocktail that has long been necessary with HIV treatment.

“I can remember when the combination therapies were first made available, we were giving patients literally dozens of pills of different types each day, but that is no longer the case,” Dr. Fauci said.

“We can say, without hyperbole, that highly effective antiretroviral therapy for HIV is indeed one of the most important biomedical research advances of our era.”

Furthermore, HIV prevention using pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), when used optimally and consistently, has further transformed the HIV landscape with 99% efficacy in preventing sexual HIV acquisition.
 

Troubling treatment gaps

Despite the advances, disparities and challenges are abundant, Dr. Fauci said.

Notably, the majority of those infected globally – 65% – are concentrated among key populations, including gay men and other men who have sex with men (23%), clients of sex workers (20%), sex workers (11%), people who inject drugs (9%), and transgender people (2%), according to the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS.

According to UNAIDS, among the 37.7 million people living with HIV at the end of 2020, 27.5 million were being treated with life-saving ART, leaving a gap of 10.2 million people with HIV who are not receiving the treatment, Dr. Fauci pointed out.

And of those who do receive treatment, retention is suboptimal, with only about 65% of patients in low- and middle-income countries being retained in care at 48 months following ART initiation.

Dr. Fauci underscored encouraging developments that could address some of those problems, notably long-acting ART therapies that, in requiring administration only every 6 months or so, could negate the need for adherence to daily ART therapy.

Likewise, long-acting PrEP provided intermittently over longer periods could prevent transmission.

“We’re looking at [long-acting PrEP] with a great deal of enthusiasm as providing protection with longer durations between doses to get people to essentially have close to 99% protection against HIV acquisition,” Dr. Fauci said.

While several efforts to develop vaccines for HIV in long-term clinical trials have had disappointing results, Dr. Fauci says he stops short of calling them failures.

“We don’t consider the trials to be failures because, in fact, they tell us the way we need to go – which direction,” he said.

“In fact, COVID-19 itself has given us new enthusiasm about the use of vaccine platforms such as mRNA that are now being applied in the vaccine quest for HIV,” Dr. Fauci noted.

Ultimately, “we must steadily and steadfastly move forward to address critical research gaps and unanswered questions [regarding HIV],” Dr. Fauci said. “The scientific advances have been breathtaking and it is up to us to [achieve] greater scientific advances, but also to translate them into something that can be implemented.”

USCHA Executive Director Paul Kawata, MD, commented that he shares Dr. Fauci’s optimism — and his concerns.

“NMAC [formerly the National Minority AIDS Council, which runs USCHA] is very excited about the science,” he said in an interview. “Our ability to make treatment easier should be a pathway to success.”

“Our concern is that we need more implementation science to know if long-acting ART will be used by the communities hardest hit by HIV,” he said.

Dr. Kawata noted that NMAC agrees that vaccine trial “failures” can offer important lessons, “but we are getting impatient,” he said. “Back in the 80s, Secretary Margret Heckler said we would have a vaccine in 5 years.”

Furthermore, ongoing racial disparities, left unaddressed, will hold back meaningful progress in the fight against HIV, he noted. “We are always hopeful, [but] the reality is that race and racism play an outsized role in health outcome in America. Unless we address these inequalities, we will never end HIV.”

NMAC receives funding from Gilead, Viiv, Merck, and Janssen.

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

The personal connection between patients and physicians has evolved over the last decade with advances in medicine, technology, and the overwhelming impact of electronic medical records (EMRs). The average primary care physician spends 5.9 hours of their 11.4-hour workday doing various tasks in the EMR.¹ With approximately half of a physician’s workday dedicated to writing patient notes, billing, and managing their inbox, the other half of the day needs to be sparingly allotted across their total patient load.

This progression of increased EMR time demands and reduced time interacting with patients has led to the development of various advantageous strategies to minimize the physician’s workload and shift the focus back to the patient. Two paramount examples that can maximize the physician’s time and the patient’s individualized care are the use of medical scribes as well as technology to write notes and accomplish various office tasks. Both reduce the physician’s workload and allow for more patient-focused interactions but via different methods. When considering which practice to employ, a physician must weigh the positive and negative aspects of both modalities, particularly dermatologists who utilize these options to streamline high patient loads.

Medical Scribes in Dermatology

A scribe is defined as a staff member who records patient-physician interactions in real time and functions as the “physician’s partner in the clinical encounter.”² A variety of staff members can serve as scribes, such as medical assistants and registered nurses (RNs), but the majority of scribes are prehealth students (eg, premedical, prenursing, pre–physician assistant).³ In this modality of patient information recording, the physician brings the scribe into the examination room and introduces them to the patient, and the scribe proceeds to record the encounter directly into the EMR. After the encounter, the physician then is able to review the completed notes and make the necessary changes before finalized submission. This process drastically reduces the physician’s workload and also may have a lasting impact on the scribe. Aside from financial compensation, scribes also are offered a very in-depth clinical experience. Especially for prehealth students, scribing can be an eye-opening phase of their progression toward a future career in medicine. These students are able to immerse themselves in the clinical setting and truly experience the medical field through active participation in patient care. Robert et al² commented on the professional development of prehealth students through scribing and self-reflection on their clinical experiences involving human suffering, empathy, power dynamics, and social inequality. Scribing allows prehealth students to begin to develop the critical skills necessary to succeed in the medical field at an earlier stage of their career development through real-time clinical engagement. This can be a motivational learning experience and can help these students to become more empathetic, understanding, and well-rounded providers in their future careers.

It is important to consider that human scribes currently are the status quo. They have been used reliably in the clinical setting for more than a decade, and it has been proven that their use is advantageous for physicians. Overall, the increased productivity and long-term effects of the immersive experiences that scribes encounter on a daily basis are important considerations when physicians decide to seek assistance in reducing their workload.

Virtual Technology and Artificial Intelligence in Dermatology

Another way to reduce the physician’s daily workload is through virtual technology and artificial intelligence (AI)–based programs. There have been many varieties of technology developed over the last decade to coincide with the rising EMR work requirements. Virtual technology allows for a wide variety of utilization in the medical clinic that can vary from virtual assistants who record patient encounters, such as Hello Rache (Temark International, Inc), to audio programs such as DeepScribe (DeepScribe Inc) that listen to the patient-physician interaction and utilize an AI-based machine to concurrently convert the audio to written documentation in the EMR.

Among the available options, the most similar to the scribe method seems to be programs such as Hello Rache that provide a virtual assistant—often an RN—who can assist in completing a multitude of tasks, such as referrals, telephone calls, transcription of dictation, and other office needs. Similar to scribing, the virtual assistant can be brought into the room to chart the notes from the visit in real time into the EMR. Although this seems similar to conventional scribing, there are 3 glaring differences in the virtual approach. The first is that the use of a tablet, computer, or other technology source is required to bring the virtual assistant in the room to listen and observe the patient interaction. This increases ease of use and allows the physician to move seamlessly between patient encounters. However, the utilization of technology also adds a layer of potential problems to the physician’s workflow, such as unreliable Internet connection, the need for battery power, and data storage requirements. The second major difference is the fact that the virtual assistant recording the notes into the EMR is not physically present and therefore is unable to move around the room to observe the physical examination. Lastly, the population of virtual assistants employed by Hello Rache seems to be restricted to specifically trained RNs in the Philippines. These virtual assistants are specially vetted for working in the medical field, and their position as a virtual assistant is their career, which provides a specialized workforce to help physicians be more effective in their work. It also shows stark contrast to the prehealth professionals that make up the majority of conventional scribes for whom scribing is a stepping stone into the medical field rather than a career path. This offers a more comprehensive approach to reducing the physician’s workload but also contributes to a more detached clinical experience for the virtual assistant.

Final Thoughts

Both conventional and virtual scribing modalities provide assistance to maximize efficiency and reduce the physician’s workload.³ Both methods achieve the same goal, but they have unique long-term impact on the physician, scribe, and most importantly the patient. Artificial intelligence provides an intriguing approach to minimizing work in the medical setting, but it does not have the successful history of utilization and longitudinal clinical impact on the scribe that is achieved through traditional scribing. It is important to consider the personal and professional growth that early clinical experiences provide for scribes, especially because the majority pursue a career in the medical field. Human scribes will continue to be the status quo when opposing the increased requirements of the EMR, but the implementation of AI sparks the need for more in-depth research and comparisons. Lastly, it is essential to uncover what the patient may prefer. Conventional scribing has been successfully utilized and accepted by patients in the clinical setting for years, but investigations of the efficacy and satisfaction of virtual scribing are still needed. Although both provide an advantageous approach to maximizing the patient-physician time in the dermatology clinic, one cannot say for certain that AI will be welcomed the same way as modern-day human scribes.

The personal connection between patients and physicians has evolved over the last decade with advances in medicine, technology, and the overwhelming impact of electronic medical records (EMRs). The average primary care physician spends 5.9 hours of their 11.4-hour workday doing various tasks in the EMR.¹ With approximately half of a physician’s workday dedicated to writing patient notes, billing, and managing their inbox, the other half of the day needs to be sparingly allotted across their total patient load.

This progression of increased EMR time demands and reduced time interacting with patients has led to the development of various advantageous strategies to minimize the physician’s workload and shift the focus back to the patient. Two paramount examples that can maximize the physician’s time and the patient’s individualized care are the use of medical scribes as well as technology to write notes and accomplish various office tasks. Both reduce the physician’s workload and allow for more patient-focused interactions but via different methods. When considering which practice to employ, a physician must weigh the positive and negative aspects of both modalities, particularly dermatologists who utilize these options to streamline high patient loads.

Medical Scribes in Dermatology

A scribe is defined as a staff member who records patient-physician interactions in real time and functions as the “physician’s partner in the clinical encounter.”² A variety of staff members can serve as scribes, such as medical assistants and registered nurses (RNs), but the majority of scribes are prehealth students (eg, premedical, prenursing, pre–physician assistant).³ In this modality of patient information recording, the physician brings the scribe into the examination room and introduces them to the patient, and the scribe proceeds to record the encounter directly into the EMR. After the encounter, the physician then is able to review the completed notes and make the necessary changes before finalized submission. This process drastically reduces the physician’s workload and also may have a lasting impact on the scribe. Aside from financial compensation, scribes also are offered a very in-depth clinical experience. Especially for prehealth students, scribing can be an eye-opening phase of their progression toward a future career in medicine. These students are able to immerse themselves in the clinical setting and truly experience the medical field through active participation in patient care. Robert et al² commented on the professional development of prehealth students through scribing and self-reflection on their clinical experiences involving human suffering, empathy, power dynamics, and social inequality. Scribing allows prehealth students to begin to develop the critical skills necessary to succeed in the medical field at an earlier stage of their career development through real-time clinical engagement. This can be a motivational learning experience and can help these students to become more empathetic, understanding, and well-rounded providers in their future careers.

It is important to consider that human scribes currently are the status quo. They have been used reliably in the clinical setting for more than a decade, and it has been proven that their use is advantageous for physicians. Overall, the increased productivity and long-term effects of the immersive experiences that scribes encounter on a daily basis are important considerations when physicians decide to seek assistance in reducing their workload.

Virtual Technology and Artificial Intelligence in Dermatology

Another way to reduce the physician’s daily workload is through virtual technology and artificial intelligence (AI)–based programs. There have been many varieties of technology developed over the last decade to coincide with the rising EMR work requirements. Virtual technology allows for a wide variety of utilization in the medical clinic that can vary from virtual assistants who record patient encounters, such as Hello Rache (Temark International, Inc), to audio programs such as DeepScribe (DeepScribe Inc) that listen to the patient-physician interaction and utilize an AI-based machine to concurrently convert the audio to written documentation in the EMR.

Among the available options, the most similar to the scribe method seems to be programs such as Hello Rache that provide a virtual assistant—often an RN—who can assist in completing a multitude of tasks, such as referrals, telephone calls, transcription of dictation, and other office needs. Similar to scribing, the virtual assistant can be brought into the room to chart the notes from the visit in real time into the EMR. Although this seems similar to conventional scribing, there are 3 glaring differences in the virtual approach. The first is that the use of a tablet, computer, or other technology source is required to bring the virtual assistant in the room to listen and observe the patient interaction. This increases ease of use and allows the physician to move seamlessly between patient encounters. However, the utilization of technology also adds a layer of potential problems to the physician’s workflow, such as unreliable Internet connection, the need for battery power, and data storage requirements. The second major difference is the fact that the virtual assistant recording the notes into the EMR is not physically present and therefore is unable to move around the room to observe the physical examination. Lastly, the population of virtual assistants employed by Hello Rache seems to be restricted to specifically trained RNs in the Philippines. These virtual assistants are specially vetted for working in the medical field, and their position as a virtual assistant is their career, which provides a specialized workforce to help physicians be more effective in their work. It also shows stark contrast to the prehealth professionals that make up the majority of conventional scribes for whom scribing is a stepping stone into the medical field rather than a career path. This offers a more comprehensive approach to reducing the physician’s workload but also contributes to a more detached clinical experience for the virtual assistant.

Final Thoughts

Both conventional and virtual scribing modalities provide assistance to maximize efficiency and reduce the physician’s workload.³ Both methods achieve the same goal, but they have unique long-term impact on the physician, scribe, and most importantly the patient. Artificial intelligence provides an intriguing approach to minimizing work in the medical setting, but it does not have the successful history of utilization and longitudinal clinical impact on the scribe that is achieved through traditional scribing. It is important to consider the personal and professional growth that early clinical experiences provide for scribes, especially because the majority pursue a career in the medical field. Human scribes will continue to be the status quo when opposing the increased requirements of the EMR, but the implementation of AI sparks the need for more in-depth research and comparisons. Lastly, it is essential to uncover what the patient may prefer. Conventional scribing has been successfully utilized and accepted by patients in the clinical setting for years, but investigations of the efficacy and satisfaction of virtual scribing are still needed. Although both provide an advantageous approach to maximizing the patient-physician time in the dermatology clinic, one cannot say for certain that AI will be welcomed the same way as modern-day human scribes.

The personal connection between patients and physicians has evolved over the last decade with advances in medicine, technology, and the overwhelming impact of electronic medical records (EMRs). The average primary care physician spends 5.9 hours of their 11.4-hour workday doing various tasks in the EMR.¹ With approximately half of a physician’s workday dedicated to writing patient notes, billing, and managing their inbox, the other half of the day needs to be sparingly allotted across their total patient load.

This progression of increased EMR time demands and reduced time interacting with patients has led to the development of various advantageous strategies to minimize the physician’s workload and shift the focus back to the patient. Two paramount examples that can maximize the physician’s time and the patient’s individualized care are the use of medical scribes as well as technology to write notes and accomplish various office tasks. Both reduce the physician’s workload and allow for more patient-focused interactions but via different methods. When considering which practice to employ, a physician must weigh the positive and negative aspects of both modalities, particularly dermatologists who utilize these options to streamline high patient loads.

Medical Scribes in Dermatology

A scribe is defined as a staff member who records patient-physician interactions in real time and functions as the “physician’s partner in the clinical encounter.”² A variety of staff members can serve as scribes, such as medical assistants and registered nurses (RNs), but the majority of scribes are prehealth students (eg, premedical, prenursing, pre–physician assistant).³ In this modality of patient information recording, the physician brings the scribe into the examination room and introduces them to the patient, and the scribe proceeds to record the encounter directly into the EMR. After the encounter, the physician then is able to review the completed notes and make the necessary changes before finalized submission. This process drastically reduces the physician’s workload and also may have a lasting impact on the scribe. Aside from financial compensation, scribes also are offered a very in-depth clinical experience. Especially for prehealth students, scribing can be an eye-opening phase of their progression toward a future career in medicine. These students are able to immerse themselves in the clinical setting and truly experience the medical field through active participation in patient care. Robert et al² commented on the professional development of prehealth students through scribing and self-reflection on their clinical experiences involving human suffering, empathy, power dynamics, and social inequality. Scribing allows prehealth students to begin to develop the critical skills necessary to succeed in the medical field at an earlier stage of their career development through real-time clinical engagement. This can be a motivational learning experience and can help these students to become more empathetic, understanding, and well-rounded providers in their future careers.

It is important to consider that human scribes currently are the status quo. They have been used reliably in the clinical setting for more than a decade, and it has been proven that their use is advantageous for physicians. Overall, the increased productivity and long-term effects of the immersive experiences that scribes encounter on a daily basis are important considerations when physicians decide to seek assistance in reducing their workload.

Virtual Technology and Artificial Intelligence in Dermatology

Another way to reduce the physician’s daily workload is through virtual technology and artificial intelligence (AI)–based programs. There have been many varieties of technology developed over the last decade to coincide with the rising EMR work requirements. Virtual technology allows for a wide variety of utilization in the medical clinic that can vary from virtual assistants who record patient encounters, such as Hello Rache (Temark International, Inc), to audio programs such as DeepScribe (DeepScribe Inc) that listen to the patient-physician interaction and utilize an AI-based machine to concurrently convert the audio to written documentation in the EMR.

Among the available options, the most similar to the scribe method seems to be programs such as Hello Rache that provide a virtual assistant—often an RN—who can assist in completing a multitude of tasks, such as referrals, telephone calls, transcription of dictation, and other office needs. Similar to scribing, the virtual assistant can be brought into the room to chart the notes from the visit in real time into the EMR. Although this seems similar to conventional scribing, there are 3 glaring differences in the virtual approach. The first is that the use of a tablet, computer, or other technology source is required to bring the virtual assistant in the room to listen and observe the patient interaction. This increases ease of use and allows the physician to move seamlessly between patient encounters. However, the utilization of technology also adds a layer of potential problems to the physician’s workflow, such as unreliable Internet connection, the need for battery power, and data storage requirements. The second major difference is the fact that the virtual assistant recording the notes into the EMR is not physically present and therefore is unable to move around the room to observe the physical examination. Lastly, the population of virtual assistants employed by Hello Rache seems to be restricted to specifically trained RNs in the Philippines. These virtual assistants are specially vetted for working in the medical field, and their position as a virtual assistant is their career, which provides a specialized workforce to help physicians be more effective in their work. It also shows stark contrast to the prehealth professionals that make up the majority of conventional scribes for whom scribing is a stepping stone into the medical field rather than a career path. This offers a more comprehensive approach to reducing the physician’s workload but also contributes to a more detached clinical experience for the virtual assistant.

Final Thoughts

Both conventional and virtual scribing modalities provide assistance to maximize efficiency and reduce the physician’s workload.³ Both methods achieve the same goal, but they have unique long-term impact on the physician, scribe, and most importantly the patient. Artificial intelligence provides an intriguing approach to minimizing work in the medical setting, but it does not have the successful history of utilization and longitudinal clinical impact on the scribe that is achieved through traditional scribing. It is important to consider the personal and professional growth that early clinical experiences provide for scribes, especially because the majority pursue a career in the medical field. Human scribes will continue to be the status quo when opposing the increased requirements of the EMR, but the implementation of AI sparks the need for more in-depth research and comparisons. Lastly, it is essential to uncover what the patient may prefer. Conventional scribing has been successfully utilized and accepted by patients in the clinical setting for years, but investigations of the efficacy and satisfaction of virtual scribing are still needed. Although both provide an advantageous approach to maximizing the patient-physician time in the dermatology clinic, one cannot say for certain that AI will be welcomed the same way as modern-day human scribes.

According to an analysis by the Pew Research Center and a report by the National Women’s Law Center, women were earning approximately $0.83-$0.84 for every $1.00 earned by their male counterparts in 2020. Accordingly, women would need to work an additional 42 days to receive compensation for earnings by men during that year. Moreover, these gaps exist with respect to race inequalities. For example, Black and Latinx women who are working full-time were reported to earn approximately $0.64 and $0.57, respectively, for every $1.00 compared with their white, non-Hispanic male counterparts. Striking, isn’t it?

The gender pay gap also affects physicians. A 2021 Medscape survey found that male physicians earn 35% more than female physicians. The biggest gap seems to be between male and female specialists, with men earning $376,000 and women $283,000.
 

Gender inequality and COVID-19

In addition to workplace responsibilities, women are more likely to take on unpaid positions in the informal care economy – examples of these tasks include cleaning, grocery shopping, and child care. In fact, the COVID-19 pandemic has increased the burden of unpaid care work among women, which often incurs a significant impact on their participation in the paid economy.

A study in the United States evaluating the impact of gender inequality during COVID-19 suggested that the rise in unemployment among women during this time may be related to decreased occupational flexibility. Accordingly, the closure of schools and caregiving facilities has translated into increased responsibilities as the informal caregiver, and a decreased ability to fulfill work obligations. Consequently, women may be overwhelmed and unable to maintain their employment status, are limited in their work opportunities, and/or are furloughed or passed over for promotions.
 

Gendered pay gaps affect mental health

A study by Platt and colleagues investigated the relationship between gendered wage gaps and gendered disparities in depression and anxiety disorders. Researchers found that females with a lower income compared with their matched male counterparts were more likely to experience depression and generalized anxiety disorders (i.e., they were 2.4 times more likely to experience depression and 4 times more likely to experience anxiety), while women who earned more than men did not report a significant difference in depression there were reduced gaps in the prevalence of anxiety disorders. As such, it has been suggested that wage gap inequalities are a contributing factor to gendered mental health disparities.

Reduced pay is not only a signifier of reduced returns on human capital. It may also have implications for one’s role in the care economy (e.g., greater time allocation as a result of reduced return), and may result in a higher likelihood for relocation as it relates to a partner’s work, overqualification for a position, inflexible work schedules, and reduced work autonomy.

Wage inequalities may act as a proxy for workplace inequalities such as promotions, prestigious projects, limited upward mobility, and internalized negative workplace experiences, all of which may contribute to increased sleep loss, stress, and related mental health stressors.

One might say, “A few cents, so what?” In addition to income itself, there’s a broader theme at play, which is gender discrimination and inequality. We should encourage conversations around the gender pay gap and develop strategies to combat this economic and social disparity.
 

Ms. Lui completed an HBSc global health specialist degree at the University of Toronto, where she is now an MSc candidate. She has received income from Braxia Scientific Corp. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

According to an analysis by the Pew Research Center and a report by the National Women’s Law Center, women were earning approximately $0.83-$0.84 for every $1.00 earned by their male counterparts in 2020. Accordingly, women would need to work an additional 42 days to receive compensation for earnings by men during that year. Moreover, these gaps exist with respect to race inequalities. For example, Black and Latinx women who are working full-time were reported to earn approximately $0.64 and $0.57, respectively, for every $1.00 compared with their white, non-Hispanic male counterparts. Striking, isn’t it?

The gender pay gap also affects physicians. A 2021 Medscape survey found that male physicians earn 35% more than female physicians. The biggest gap seems to be between male and female specialists, with men earning $376,000 and women $283,000.
 

Gender inequality and COVID-19

In addition to workplace responsibilities, women are more likely to take on unpaid positions in the informal care economy – examples of these tasks include cleaning, grocery shopping, and child care. In fact, the COVID-19 pandemic has increased the burden of unpaid care work among women, which often incurs a significant impact on their participation in the paid economy.

A study in the United States evaluating the impact of gender inequality during COVID-19 suggested that the rise in unemployment among women during this time may be related to decreased occupational flexibility. Accordingly, the closure of schools and caregiving facilities has translated into increased responsibilities as the informal caregiver, and a decreased ability to fulfill work obligations. Consequently, women may be overwhelmed and unable to maintain their employment status, are limited in their work opportunities, and/or are furloughed or passed over for promotions.
 

Gendered pay gaps affect mental health

A study by Platt and colleagues investigated the relationship between gendered wage gaps and gendered disparities in depression and anxiety disorders. Researchers found that females with a lower income compared with their matched male counterparts were more likely to experience depression and generalized anxiety disorders (i.e., they were 2.4 times more likely to experience depression and 4 times more likely to experience anxiety), while women who earned more than men did not report a significant difference in depression there were reduced gaps in the prevalence of anxiety disorders. As such, it has been suggested that wage gap inequalities are a contributing factor to gendered mental health disparities.

Reduced pay is not only a signifier of reduced returns on human capital. It may also have implications for one’s role in the care economy (e.g., greater time allocation as a result of reduced return), and may result in a higher likelihood for relocation as it relates to a partner’s work, overqualification for a position, inflexible work schedules, and reduced work autonomy.

Wage inequalities may act as a proxy for workplace inequalities such as promotions, prestigious projects, limited upward mobility, and internalized negative workplace experiences, all of which may contribute to increased sleep loss, stress, and related mental health stressors.

One might say, “A few cents, so what?” In addition to income itself, there’s a broader theme at play, which is gender discrimination and inequality. We should encourage conversations around the gender pay gap and develop strategies to combat this economic and social disparity.
 

Ms. Lui completed an HBSc global health specialist degree at the University of Toronto, where she is now an MSc candidate. She has received income from Braxia Scientific Corp. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

According to an analysis by the Pew Research Center and a report by the National Women’s Law Center, women were earning approximately $0.83-$0.84 for every $1.00 earned by their male counterparts in 2020. Accordingly, women would need to work an additional 42 days to receive compensation for earnings by men during that year. Moreover, these gaps exist with respect to race inequalities. For example, Black and Latinx women who are working full-time were reported to earn approximately $0.64 and $0.57, respectively, for every $1.00 compared with their white, non-Hispanic male counterparts. Striking, isn’t it?

The gender pay gap also affects physicians. A 2021 Medscape survey found that male physicians earn 35% more than female physicians. The biggest gap seems to be between male and female specialists, with men earning $376,000 and women $283,000.
 

Gender inequality and COVID-19

In addition to workplace responsibilities, women are more likely to take on unpaid positions in the informal care economy – examples of these tasks include cleaning, grocery shopping, and child care. In fact, the COVID-19 pandemic has increased the burden of unpaid care work among women, which often incurs a significant impact on their participation in the paid economy.

A study in the United States evaluating the impact of gender inequality during COVID-19 suggested that the rise in unemployment among women during this time may be related to decreased occupational flexibility. Accordingly, the closure of schools and caregiving facilities has translated into increased responsibilities as the informal caregiver, and a decreased ability to fulfill work obligations. Consequently, women may be overwhelmed and unable to maintain their employment status, are limited in their work opportunities, and/or are furloughed or passed over for promotions.
 

Gendered pay gaps affect mental health

A study by Platt and colleagues investigated the relationship between gendered wage gaps and gendered disparities in depression and anxiety disorders. Researchers found that females with a lower income compared with their matched male counterparts were more likely to experience depression and generalized anxiety disorders (i.e., they were 2.4 times more likely to experience depression and 4 times more likely to experience anxiety), while women who earned more than men did not report a significant difference in depression there were reduced gaps in the prevalence of anxiety disorders. As such, it has been suggested that wage gap inequalities are a contributing factor to gendered mental health disparities.

Reduced pay is not only a signifier of reduced returns on human capital. It may also have implications for one’s role in the care economy (e.g., greater time allocation as a result of reduced return), and may result in a higher likelihood for relocation as it relates to a partner’s work, overqualification for a position, inflexible work schedules, and reduced work autonomy.

Wage inequalities may act as a proxy for workplace inequalities such as promotions, prestigious projects, limited upward mobility, and internalized negative workplace experiences, all of which may contribute to increased sleep loss, stress, and related mental health stressors.

One might say, “A few cents, so what?” In addition to income itself, there’s a broader theme at play, which is gender discrimination and inequality. We should encourage conversations around the gender pay gap and develop strategies to combat this economic and social disparity.
 

Ms. Lui completed an HBSc global health specialist degree at the University of Toronto, where she is now an MSc candidate. She has received income from Braxia Scientific Corp. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Like so many of you, I have weathered COVID-19 for the last almost 2 years. We’ve dealt with anxiety in our patients and ourselves, ever conflicting directives over masks, and uncertainty and hope over vaccinations.

In the beginning, it seemed elsewhere. Wuhan, China, the state of Washington, New York City.

In the beginning, I awoke with rising anxiety every morning at 4 a.m.

Now, it is part of life. We know how to do this.

I work in a D.C. hospital that takes care of COVID-19 patients. I don’t intubate or come into direct contact with patients’ secretions.

I felt lucky.

Last summer, I felt relief, after being fully vaccinated. We thought we were almost over it. But the numbers abroad and in the United States keep rising.

We have developed protocols. We test every patient for COVID-19 before admitting them to psychiatry, which is now routine. COVID-19–positive patients with suicidal ideation go to our medicine-psychiatric unit. We are single-room occupancy. No visitors.

Now, it feels like COVID is closing in. Lots of my patients on consultation-liaison psychiatry had COVID-19 or do now. The number of patients with long COVID is increasing. My elderly mother-in-law picked it up from a hospital. My young, healthy adult son got it but is now doing relatively OK. We will see if his ADHD worsens.

I received contact tracing recently for going into a patient room with contact precautions. I had put on the gown and gloves, but did I wear my goggles? I keep them on my forehead but could not remember if I had slipped them over my eyes.

I get tested weekly. My nose runs inside my mask. I sneeze. Is this COVID?

Of course, I am vaccinated with a booster shot. But breakthrough infections occur.

I am lucky, I keep reminding myself. I have a job and income and good PPE.

So, we are learning how to manage this disease. But it still closes in. My brain screams: “I do not want to catch this disease. I do not want to get sick. I do not want to get long COVID.”

“Calm down, Cam,” I tell myself. “You can do this!” I have learned how to do all the PPE, including tying the plastic ties along the backs of the plastic gowns.

All psychiatry meetings are virtual now. I cannot do virtual with enthusiasm. I say I will, but then do not log on. I miss the camaraderie.

All appointments are mainly telehealth. That has its pros and cons.

So bottom line – I will keep keeping on.

But I really want others to get vaccinated and wear masks. More than that, how can we as a psychiatric community get us through this pandemic? How can we support each other and our patients?

Here are a few suggestions, some of which I have made before:

• Focus on what we can control, especially exercise and sleep. Walk during times when the sun is shining. Rake the gorgeous autumn yellow and orange leaves.
• Give small (or large) gifts of kindness to others. Give to food banks, provide large tips to those who bring you takeout, help out at an animal shelter.
• Talk through established media about self-care and therapy for anxiety and depression.
• Clean out your closets. Give clothes to Afghan refugees.
• Read good books about trying times – such as World War II and the long wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.
• Take care of veterans and the elderly and homeless.
• Take care of yourself and your family.

Dr. Ritchie is chair of psychiatry at Medstar Washington Hospital Center. She has no conflicts of interest.

Like so many of you, I have weathered COVID-19 for the last almost 2 years. We’ve dealt with anxiety in our patients and ourselves, ever conflicting directives over masks, and uncertainty and hope over vaccinations.

In the beginning, it seemed elsewhere. Wuhan, China, the state of Washington, New York City.

In the beginning, I awoke with rising anxiety every morning at 4 a.m.

Now, it is part of life. We know how to do this.

I work in a D.C. hospital that takes care of COVID-19 patients. I don’t intubate or come into direct contact with patients’ secretions.

I felt lucky.

Last summer, I felt relief, after being fully vaccinated. We thought we were almost over it. But the numbers abroad and in the United States keep rising.

We have developed protocols. We test every patient for COVID-19 before admitting them to psychiatry, which is now routine. COVID-19–positive patients with suicidal ideation go to our medicine-psychiatric unit. We are single-room occupancy. No visitors.

Now, it feels like COVID is closing in. Lots of my patients on consultation-liaison psychiatry had COVID-19 or do now. The number of patients with long COVID is increasing. My elderly mother-in-law picked it up from a hospital. My young, healthy adult son got it but is now doing relatively OK. We will see if his ADHD worsens.

I received contact tracing recently for going into a patient room with contact precautions. I had put on the gown and gloves, but did I wear my goggles? I keep them on my forehead but could not remember if I had slipped them over my eyes.

I get tested weekly. My nose runs inside my mask. I sneeze. Is this COVID?

Of course, I am vaccinated with a booster shot. But breakthrough infections occur.

I am lucky, I keep reminding myself. I have a job and income and good PPE.

So, we are learning how to manage this disease. But it still closes in. My brain screams: “I do not want to catch this disease. I do not want to get sick. I do not want to get long COVID.”

“Calm down, Cam,” I tell myself. “You can do this!” I have learned how to do all the PPE, including tying the plastic ties along the backs of the plastic gowns.

All psychiatry meetings are virtual now. I cannot do virtual with enthusiasm. I say I will, but then do not log on. I miss the camaraderie.

All appointments are mainly telehealth. That has its pros and cons.

So bottom line – I will keep keeping on.

But I really want others to get vaccinated and wear masks. More than that, how can we as a psychiatric community get us through this pandemic? How can we support each other and our patients?

Here are a few suggestions, some of which I have made before:

• Focus on what we can control, especially exercise and sleep. Walk during times when the sun is shining. Rake the gorgeous autumn yellow and orange leaves.
• Give small (or large) gifts of kindness to others. Give to food banks, provide large tips to those who bring you takeout, help out at an animal shelter.
• Talk through established media about self-care and therapy for anxiety and depression.
• Clean out your closets. Give clothes to Afghan refugees.
• Read good books about trying times – such as World War II and the long wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.
• Take care of veterans and the elderly and homeless.
• Take care of yourself and your family.

Dr. Ritchie is chair of psychiatry at Medstar Washington Hospital Center. She has no conflicts of interest.

Like so many of you, I have weathered COVID-19 for the last almost 2 years. We’ve dealt with anxiety in our patients and ourselves, ever conflicting directives over masks, and uncertainty and hope over vaccinations.

In the beginning, it seemed elsewhere. Wuhan, China, the state of Washington, New York City.

In the beginning, I awoke with rising anxiety every morning at 4 a.m.

Now, it is part of life. We know how to do this.

I work in a D.C. hospital that takes care of COVID-19 patients. I don’t intubate or come into direct contact with patients’ secretions.

I felt lucky.

Last summer, I felt relief, after being fully vaccinated. We thought we were almost over it. But the numbers abroad and in the United States keep rising.

We have developed protocols. We test every patient for COVID-19 before admitting them to psychiatry, which is now routine. COVID-19–positive patients with suicidal ideation go to our medicine-psychiatric unit. We are single-room occupancy. No visitors.

Now, it feels like COVID is closing in. Lots of my patients on consultation-liaison psychiatry had COVID-19 or do now. The number of patients with long COVID is increasing. My elderly mother-in-law picked it up from a hospital. My young, healthy adult son got it but is now doing relatively OK. We will see if his ADHD worsens.

I received contact tracing recently for going into a patient room with contact precautions. I had put on the gown and gloves, but did I wear my goggles? I keep them on my forehead but could not remember if I had slipped them over my eyes.

I get tested weekly. My nose runs inside my mask. I sneeze. Is this COVID?

Of course, I am vaccinated with a booster shot. But breakthrough infections occur.

I am lucky, I keep reminding myself. I have a job and income and good PPE.

So, we are learning how to manage this disease. But it still closes in. My brain screams: “I do not want to catch this disease. I do not want to get sick. I do not want to get long COVID.”

“Calm down, Cam,” I tell myself. “You can do this!” I have learned how to do all the PPE, including tying the plastic ties along the backs of the plastic gowns.

All psychiatry meetings are virtual now. I cannot do virtual with enthusiasm. I say I will, but then do not log on. I miss the camaraderie.

All appointments are mainly telehealth. That has its pros and cons.

So bottom line – I will keep keeping on.

But I really want others to get vaccinated and wear masks. More than that, how can we as a psychiatric community get us through this pandemic? How can we support each other and our patients?

Here are a few suggestions, some of which I have made before:

• Focus on what we can control, especially exercise and sleep. Walk during times when the sun is shining. Rake the gorgeous autumn yellow and orange leaves.
• Give small (or large) gifts of kindness to others. Give to food banks, provide large tips to those who bring you takeout, help out at an animal shelter.
• Talk through established media about self-care and therapy for anxiety and depression.
• Clean out your closets. Give clothes to Afghan refugees.
• Read good books about trying times – such as World War II and the long wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.
• Take care of veterans and the elderly and homeless.
• Take care of yourself and your family.

Dr. Ritchie is chair of psychiatry at Medstar Washington Hospital Center. She has no conflicts of interest.

Working feverishly to complete the myriad patient notes accumulated throughout a hectic day, my phone vibrated – alerting me to a number that, over the past several years, has wrought uncertainty, grief, and overwhelming relief. Answering hesitantly, I listened to my physician’s pharmacist inform me of unexpected and alarming news.

Since COVID-19 was first identified more than 1 year ago, more than 770,000 people have died in the United States. In the wake of those losses, countless grieve while attempting to navigate a future without their loved ones. Meanwhile, scientists worked feverishly to combat a pandemic relentless in contagion. As health care professionals, we work tirelessly against the sharpened scythe of death, toiling day after day without an identifiable end. All the while, advocacy has prevailed as the need for personal protective equipment, improved ventilation systems, sanitization measures, and other mitigation measures, such as mask wearing and social distancing, echoed swiftly across the nation and around the world.

But, as the months have progressed, and life has seemingly transitioned toward a parallel version of reality, subsections of communities have grown restless. Several nontherapeutic, ineffective, and falsely touted regimens have been promoted. Amid the chaos of misinformation, most medical professionals have sought support from respected journals and infectious disease experts to filter out jargon and piece together scientifically sound protocols. Although many lives have prevailed by way of those advancements, mixed messages about interventions have emerged – and in many quarters across the country, anger, resistance, and outright refusal have prevailed.

Yet, we – the medical community – have forged ever onward as the cases continued and the death toll steadily climbed. In many cases, physicians who are years removed from critical care training have been thrust into COVID units, while residents have shifted toward working outside of their chosen specialty. Outpatient offices have closed, salaries have been cut, and furloughs have loomed as days fade into months. Beset with exhaustion and uncertainty, sacrifice has become a common thread that intrinsically united us against an unrelenting foe.

Most people continued navigating the many changes and made concerted efforts to mimic our prepandemic lives. Working from home in makeshift offices, dusting off math skills to assist children through the doldrums of distance learning, and mastering various audiovisual platforms, we reinforced social bonds and forged new connections echoing the hallmark resilience reminiscent of our shared distant ancestry.

As of this writing, thanks to our work – and that of scientists and policy makers – about 69% of Americans have received at least one dose of vaccine, and vaccines are widely available to children 5 and older. But it has been disheartening to watch misinformation about vaccine research and development propagated by political figures, social media, and lay people.
 

Processing the phone call

While listening to my physician’s pharmacist, I slowed my breaths in an effort to find calm. Years of navigating the American health care industry had left me both equipped and ill-prepared for the unexpected. I listened intently to the pharmacist’s words while staring blankly at a computer screen – uncertain of what had felt so assured not 10 minutes earlier.

That’s when I got the news. The intravenous medication that aided in my stabilization had suffered a critical shortage because of its successful use in the treatment of patients with COVID-19 pneumonia – patients who, in a majority of cases, had likely refused the vaccines. As result, the medication that had enabled my return to work, active engagement in nonwork pursuits, and most importantly, equipped my body to thrive despite the damage it had suffered, suddenly vanished.

Gently placing my phone on the desk, my heart beat rapidly as tears steadily streamed down my face. Staring blankly ahead, my hands gradually balled into fists as I let out a sound of fear, agony, and uncertainty. Screaming at everything and nothing, nausea swelled as panic flooded my body. In that moment, I ruminated on the conversation with the pharmacist. There had been no discussion, no option for me to maintain accessibility to this valuable medicine. Consequently, I felt helpless. Although the same medication, albeit a different mechanism of delivery, was promptly chosen as an adequate substitute, there was no guarantee of it bestowing the same degree of efficacy. So I was terrified, envisioning the progress made over several years as plummeting into an abyss of pain and despair. What are those of us who have chosen medicine as our profession but are immunocompromised expected to make of this?

Over the next several weeks, I diligently adhered to the new regimen and focused on positive mentation. Nevertheless, day by day, the symptoms worsened; eventually, I became bed ridden. I tried to gather what little composure remained to reschedule patients and justify the resounding guilt of perceived failure. I remember the sweet and gentle look of my child as I once again could not summon the strength to play pretend. This felt overwhelming. Would I ever go back to work? Would I see my child grow? No amount of pleading or screaming would change the fact that a medical system chose to roll the dice on my health. In a haze of discomfort and betrayal, I wondered how a physician or medical facility could justify removing medication from someone reliant upon it. How do we choose the appropriate allocation of resources when the consequences are potentially catastrophic?
 

Searching for context

When a country is founded on the mission of rising as a leading world power built upon the concepts of freedom, basic human rights, and individuality while supporting an infrastructure of capitalism, power, and control, crises – particularly those related to public health – can fan deep divisions. Here in the United States, we have seen misinterpretation, misunderstanding, and bitter indignation fuel the flames of provocation as protests of mask mandates, distance learning, and social distancing were touted as violating the very core upon which the country was established. Frustration, palpable among health care professionals, grew ever greater as the importance of vaccination in quelling virus mutations and decreasing morbidity and mortality were openly disparaged and ignored.

Not only have we watched people refuse the vaccines, but some are ignoring other mitigation measures. So the question becomes: How are we, as health care professionals trying to maintain a therapeutic alliance with those who reject lifesaving practices, expected to process this? Sitting in appointments and attempting interventions without judgment feels impractical and nearly impossible – particularly when the behaviors of these patients have the potential of violating our own health and well-being. How do we remain altruistic in our endeavors when those who seek our care seem callously indifferent to our lives – and to those of our families?
 

Measuring the value of life

Within the fevered haze of this past year, many stories highlighting grim realities have captured the media spotlight. From individuals unable to have emergency evaluations because of facilities being inundated by COVID-19 patients to individuals prematurely discharged, hospital bed shortages, and financial pressures from insurance companies. In reciting the phrase “Primum non noncere,” we physicians are committing to providing fair and competent medical treatment. At times, urgent decisions are necessary but are always made in the best interest of the patient(s). Ultimately, I am left debating how these agonizing weeks served any meaningful purpose. Moreover, when choosing the many over the few, what are the determinant factors? I am left asking: What is the value of a life?

Philosophically, this ethical dilemma is captured succinctly via the “trolley problem,” formulated in 1967 by Philippa Foot, MD. This is how Dr. Foot’s formulation unfolds: Close your eyes, and imagine you are inside a trolley careening unhindered down the rumbling tracks. Straight ahead you see five people bound to the tracks in imminent danger of being struck, and on the other side, one person is tied to the tracks. Do you continue the same course – thereby condemning five innocent people to death – or do you make the active decision to switch tracks, therefore consigning the one to their fate? Envision the people what do they look like? How old are they? If the one were a small child or a close friend, would that alter your decision? How does one make such a harrowing choice knowing the irreversible consequences? Depending on your action, this quandary falls within two primary schools of thought: Utilitarianism, which posits that the best action is the greatest good for the greatest number of people, and deontologicalism, which suggests that action is inherently right or wrong regardless of the consequences. Therefore, the decision to save the five is not favored.

However simplistic those scenarios may read, such principles when viewed through different lenses, they form the basis of medical ethics. In effect, every acute decision, every aspect of treatment is predicated upon the principles of nonmaleficence, beneficence, utility, distributive justice, and autonomy. Yet, the manner in which they are applied is highly contingent upon myriad variables. For example, sociopolitical factors, including population size (rural versus urban), economics (impoverished versus wealthy), as well as demographic factors (age, ethnicity, gender, sexuality) can highly influence and sometimes unknowingly influence interpretation and allocation of health care resources. This dilemma does not yield easily applicable and universal solutions. Nevertheless, it is paramount to evaluate policies effectively and tediously, particularly those with detrimental ramifications. Likewise, remaining flexible in our willingness to explore alternative solutions and encourage open discord among those with opposing viewpoints is key to instituting individual or institutional change that values the one as it values the many.

After several weeks of acute illness and a variety of short-acting interventions, I received approval to resume intravenous therapy. While the saga has ultimately reached a satisfactory conclusion, I am left with stupefied disbelief toward the people who took a gamble on my health. I am facing a battle between understanding the obligation of medicine to provide ethical and reasonable care without hesitation or judgment versus embittered resentment when faced with those who openly campaign against lifesaving interventions, such as the COVID-19 vaccine. For me, each day and the one that follows is riddled with complicated emotion. Every time I prematurely cease activity out of discomfort and weariness, I worry about my increasingly foreboding workload. In those moments, in that place of questions without answers, I remember that someone somewhere ultimately decided to switch the trolley’s track.

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

Working feverishly to complete the myriad patient notes accumulated throughout a hectic day, my phone vibrated – alerting me to a number that, over the past several years, has wrought uncertainty, grief, and overwhelming relief. Answering hesitantly, I listened to my physician’s pharmacist inform me of unexpected and alarming news.

Since COVID-19 was first identified more than 1 year ago, more than 770,000 people have died in the United States. In the wake of those losses, countless grieve while attempting to navigate a future without their loved ones. Meanwhile, scientists worked feverishly to combat a pandemic relentless in contagion. As health care professionals, we work tirelessly against the sharpened scythe of death, toiling day after day without an identifiable end. All the while, advocacy has prevailed as the need for personal protective equipment, improved ventilation systems, sanitization measures, and other mitigation measures, such as mask wearing and social distancing, echoed swiftly across the nation and around the world.

But, as the months have progressed, and life has seemingly transitioned toward a parallel version of reality, subsections of communities have grown restless. Several nontherapeutic, ineffective, and falsely touted regimens have been promoted. Amid the chaos of misinformation, most medical professionals have sought support from respected journals and infectious disease experts to filter out jargon and piece together scientifically sound protocols. Although many lives have prevailed by way of those advancements, mixed messages about interventions have emerged – and in many quarters across the country, anger, resistance, and outright refusal have prevailed.

Yet, we – the medical community – have forged ever onward as the cases continued and the death toll steadily climbed. In many cases, physicians who are years removed from critical care training have been thrust into COVID units, while residents have shifted toward working outside of their chosen specialty. Outpatient offices have closed, salaries have been cut, and furloughs have loomed as days fade into months. Beset with exhaustion and uncertainty, sacrifice has become a common thread that intrinsically united us against an unrelenting foe.

Most people continued navigating the many changes and made concerted efforts to mimic our prepandemic lives. Working from home in makeshift offices, dusting off math skills to assist children through the doldrums of distance learning, and mastering various audiovisual platforms, we reinforced social bonds and forged new connections echoing the hallmark resilience reminiscent of our shared distant ancestry.

As of this writing, thanks to our work – and that of scientists and policy makers – about 69% of Americans have received at least one dose of vaccine, and vaccines are widely available to children 5 and older. But it has been disheartening to watch misinformation about vaccine research and development propagated by political figures, social media, and lay people.
 

Processing the phone call

While listening to my physician’s pharmacist, I slowed my breaths in an effort to find calm. Years of navigating the American health care industry had left me both equipped and ill-prepared for the unexpected. I listened intently to the pharmacist’s words while staring blankly at a computer screen – uncertain of what had felt so assured not 10 minutes earlier.

That’s when I got the news. The intravenous medication that aided in my stabilization had suffered a critical shortage because of its successful use in the treatment of patients with COVID-19 pneumonia – patients who, in a majority of cases, had likely refused the vaccines. As result, the medication that had enabled my return to work, active engagement in nonwork pursuits, and most importantly, equipped my body to thrive despite the damage it had suffered, suddenly vanished.

Gently placing my phone on the desk, my heart beat rapidly as tears steadily streamed down my face. Staring blankly ahead, my hands gradually balled into fists as I let out a sound of fear, agony, and uncertainty. Screaming at everything and nothing, nausea swelled as panic flooded my body. In that moment, I ruminated on the conversation with the pharmacist. There had been no discussion, no option for me to maintain accessibility to this valuable medicine. Consequently, I felt helpless. Although the same medication, albeit a different mechanism of delivery, was promptly chosen as an adequate substitute, there was no guarantee of it bestowing the same degree of efficacy. So I was terrified, envisioning the progress made over several years as plummeting into an abyss of pain and despair. What are those of us who have chosen medicine as our profession but are immunocompromised expected to make of this?

Over the next several weeks, I diligently adhered to the new regimen and focused on positive mentation. Nevertheless, day by day, the symptoms worsened; eventually, I became bed ridden. I tried to gather what little composure remained to reschedule patients and justify the resounding guilt of perceived failure. I remember the sweet and gentle look of my child as I once again could not summon the strength to play pretend. This felt overwhelming. Would I ever go back to work? Would I see my child grow? No amount of pleading or screaming would change the fact that a medical system chose to roll the dice on my health. In a haze of discomfort and betrayal, I wondered how a physician or medical facility could justify removing medication from someone reliant upon it. How do we choose the appropriate allocation of resources when the consequences are potentially catastrophic?
 

Searching for context

When a country is founded on the mission of rising as a leading world power built upon the concepts of freedom, basic human rights, and individuality while supporting an infrastructure of capitalism, power, and control, crises – particularly those related to public health – can fan deep divisions. Here in the United States, we have seen misinterpretation, misunderstanding, and bitter indignation fuel the flames of provocation as protests of mask mandates, distance learning, and social distancing were touted as violating the very core upon which the country was established. Frustration, palpable among health care professionals, grew ever greater as the importance of vaccination in quelling virus mutations and decreasing morbidity and mortality were openly disparaged and ignored.

Not only have we watched people refuse the vaccines, but some are ignoring other mitigation measures. So the question becomes: How are we, as health care professionals trying to maintain a therapeutic alliance with those who reject lifesaving practices, expected to process this? Sitting in appointments and attempting interventions without judgment feels impractical and nearly impossible – particularly when the behaviors of these patients have the potential of violating our own health and well-being. How do we remain altruistic in our endeavors when those who seek our care seem callously indifferent to our lives – and to those of our families?
 

Measuring the value of life

Within the fevered haze of this past year, many stories highlighting grim realities have captured the media spotlight. From individuals unable to have emergency evaluations because of facilities being inundated by COVID-19 patients to individuals prematurely discharged, hospital bed shortages, and financial pressures from insurance companies. In reciting the phrase “Primum non noncere,” we physicians are committing to providing fair and competent medical treatment. At times, urgent decisions are necessary but are always made in the best interest of the patient(s). Ultimately, I am left debating how these agonizing weeks served any meaningful purpose. Moreover, when choosing the many over the few, what are the determinant factors? I am left asking: What is the value of a life?

Philosophically, this ethical dilemma is captured succinctly via the “trolley problem,” formulated in 1967 by Philippa Foot, MD. This is how Dr. Foot’s formulation unfolds: Close your eyes, and imagine you are inside a trolley careening unhindered down the rumbling tracks. Straight ahead you see five people bound to the tracks in imminent danger of being struck, and on the other side, one person is tied to the tracks. Do you continue the same course – thereby condemning five innocent people to death – or do you make the active decision to switch tracks, therefore consigning the one to their fate? Envision the people what do they look like? How old are they? If the one were a small child or a close friend, would that alter your decision? How does one make such a harrowing choice knowing the irreversible consequences? Depending on your action, this quandary falls within two primary schools of thought: Utilitarianism, which posits that the best action is the greatest good for the greatest number of people, and deontologicalism, which suggests that action is inherently right or wrong regardless of the consequences. Therefore, the decision to save the five is not favored.

However simplistic those scenarios may read, such principles when viewed through different lenses, they form the basis of medical ethics. In effect, every acute decision, every aspect of treatment is predicated upon the principles of nonmaleficence, beneficence, utility, distributive justice, and autonomy. Yet, the manner in which they are applied is highly contingent upon myriad variables. For example, sociopolitical factors, including population size (rural versus urban), economics (impoverished versus wealthy), as well as demographic factors (age, ethnicity, gender, sexuality) can highly influence and sometimes unknowingly influence interpretation and allocation of health care resources. This dilemma does not yield easily applicable and universal solutions. Nevertheless, it is paramount to evaluate policies effectively and tediously, particularly those with detrimental ramifications. Likewise, remaining flexible in our willingness to explore alternative solutions and encourage open discord among those with opposing viewpoints is key to instituting individual or institutional change that values the one as it values the many.

After several weeks of acute illness and a variety of short-acting interventions, I received approval to resume intravenous therapy. While the saga has ultimately reached a satisfactory conclusion, I am left with stupefied disbelief toward the people who took a gamble on my health. I am facing a battle between understanding the obligation of medicine to provide ethical and reasonable care without hesitation or judgment versus embittered resentment when faced with those who openly campaign against lifesaving interventions, such as the COVID-19 vaccine. For me, each day and the one that follows is riddled with complicated emotion. Every time I prematurely cease activity out of discomfort and weariness, I worry about my increasingly foreboding workload. In those moments, in that place of questions without answers, I remember that someone somewhere ultimately decided to switch the trolley’s track.

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

Working feverishly to complete the myriad patient notes accumulated throughout a hectic day, my phone vibrated – alerting me to a number that, over the past several years, has wrought uncertainty, grief, and overwhelming relief. Answering hesitantly, I listened to my physician’s pharmacist inform me of unexpected and alarming news.

Since COVID-19 was first identified more than 1 year ago, more than 770,000 people have died in the United States. In the wake of those losses, countless grieve while attempting to navigate a future without their loved ones. Meanwhile, scientists worked feverishly to combat a pandemic relentless in contagion. As health care professionals, we work tirelessly against the sharpened scythe of death, toiling day after day without an identifiable end. All the while, advocacy has prevailed as the need for personal protective equipment, improved ventilation systems, sanitization measures, and other mitigation measures, such as mask wearing and social distancing, echoed swiftly across the nation and around the world.

But, as the months have progressed, and life has seemingly transitioned toward a parallel version of reality, subsections of communities have grown restless. Several nontherapeutic, ineffective, and falsely touted regimens have been promoted. Amid the chaos of misinformation, most medical professionals have sought support from respected journals and infectious disease experts to filter out jargon and piece together scientifically sound protocols. Although many lives have prevailed by way of those advancements, mixed messages about interventions have emerged – and in many quarters across the country, anger, resistance, and outright refusal have prevailed.

Yet, we – the medical community – have forged ever onward as the cases continued and the death toll steadily climbed. In many cases, physicians who are years removed from critical care training have been thrust into COVID units, while residents have shifted toward working outside of their chosen specialty. Outpatient offices have closed, salaries have been cut, and furloughs have loomed as days fade into months. Beset with exhaustion and uncertainty, sacrifice has become a common thread that intrinsically united us against an unrelenting foe.

Most people continued navigating the many changes and made concerted efforts to mimic our prepandemic lives. Working from home in makeshift offices, dusting off math skills to assist children through the doldrums of distance learning, and mastering various audiovisual platforms, we reinforced social bonds and forged new connections echoing the hallmark resilience reminiscent of our shared distant ancestry.

As of this writing, thanks to our work – and that of scientists and policy makers – about 69% of Americans have received at least one dose of vaccine, and vaccines are widely available to children 5 and older. But it has been disheartening to watch misinformation about vaccine research and development propagated by political figures, social media, and lay people.
 

Processing the phone call

While listening to my physician’s pharmacist, I slowed my breaths in an effort to find calm. Years of navigating the American health care industry had left me both equipped and ill-prepared for the unexpected. I listened intently to the pharmacist’s words while staring blankly at a computer screen – uncertain of what had felt so assured not 10 minutes earlier.

That’s when I got the news. The intravenous medication that aided in my stabilization had suffered a critical shortage because of its successful use in the treatment of patients with COVID-19 pneumonia – patients who, in a majority of cases, had likely refused the vaccines. As result, the medication that had enabled my return to work, active engagement in nonwork pursuits, and most importantly, equipped my body to thrive despite the damage it had suffered, suddenly vanished.

Gently placing my phone on the desk, my heart beat rapidly as tears steadily streamed down my face. Staring blankly ahead, my hands gradually balled into fists as I let out a sound of fear, agony, and uncertainty. Screaming at everything and nothing, nausea swelled as panic flooded my body. In that moment, I ruminated on the conversation with the pharmacist. There had been no discussion, no option for me to maintain accessibility to this valuable medicine. Consequently, I felt helpless. Although the same medication, albeit a different mechanism of delivery, was promptly chosen as an adequate substitute, there was no guarantee of it bestowing the same degree of efficacy. So I was terrified, envisioning the progress made over several years as plummeting into an abyss of pain and despair. What are those of us who have chosen medicine as our profession but are immunocompromised expected to make of this?

Over the next several weeks, I diligently adhered to the new regimen and focused on positive mentation. Nevertheless, day by day, the symptoms worsened; eventually, I became bed ridden. I tried to gather what little composure remained to reschedule patients and justify the resounding guilt of perceived failure. I remember the sweet and gentle look of my child as I once again could not summon the strength to play pretend. This felt overwhelming. Would I ever go back to work? Would I see my child grow? No amount of pleading or screaming would change the fact that a medical system chose to roll the dice on my health. In a haze of discomfort and betrayal, I wondered how a physician or medical facility could justify removing medication from someone reliant upon it. How do we choose the appropriate allocation of resources when the consequences are potentially catastrophic?
 

Searching for context

When a country is founded on the mission of rising as a leading world power built upon the concepts of freedom, basic human rights, and individuality while supporting an infrastructure of capitalism, power, and control, crises – particularly those related to public health – can fan deep divisions. Here in the United States, we have seen misinterpretation, misunderstanding, and bitter indignation fuel the flames of provocation as protests of mask mandates, distance learning, and social distancing were touted as violating the very core upon which the country was established. Frustration, palpable among health care professionals, grew ever greater as the importance of vaccination in quelling virus mutations and decreasing morbidity and mortality were openly disparaged and ignored.

Not only have we watched people refuse the vaccines, but some are ignoring other mitigation measures. So the question becomes: How are we, as health care professionals trying to maintain a therapeutic alliance with those who reject lifesaving practices, expected to process this? Sitting in appointments and attempting interventions without judgment feels impractical and nearly impossible – particularly when the behaviors of these patients have the potential of violating our own health and well-being. How do we remain altruistic in our endeavors when those who seek our care seem callously indifferent to our lives – and to those of our families?
 

Measuring the value of life

Within the fevered haze of this past year, many stories highlighting grim realities have captured the media spotlight. From individuals unable to have emergency evaluations because of facilities being inundated by COVID-19 patients to individuals prematurely discharged, hospital bed shortages, and financial pressures from insurance companies. In reciting the phrase “Primum non noncere,” we physicians are committing to providing fair and competent medical treatment. At times, urgent decisions are necessary but are always made in the best interest of the patient(s). Ultimately, I am left debating how these agonizing weeks served any meaningful purpose. Moreover, when choosing the many over the few, what are the determinant factors? I am left asking: What is the value of a life?

Philosophically, this ethical dilemma is captured succinctly via the “trolley problem,” formulated in 1967 by Philippa Foot, MD. This is how Dr. Foot’s formulation unfolds: Close your eyes, and imagine you are inside a trolley careening unhindered down the rumbling tracks. Straight ahead you see five people bound to the tracks in imminent danger of being struck, and on the other side, one person is tied to the tracks. Do you continue the same course – thereby condemning five innocent people to death – or do you make the active decision to switch tracks, therefore consigning the one to their fate? Envision the people what do they look like? How old are they? If the one were a small child or a close friend, would that alter your decision? How does one make such a harrowing choice knowing the irreversible consequences? Depending on your action, this quandary falls within two primary schools of thought: Utilitarianism, which posits that the best action is the greatest good for the greatest number of people, and deontologicalism, which suggests that action is inherently right or wrong regardless of the consequences. Therefore, the decision to save the five is not favored.

However simplistic those scenarios may read, such principles when viewed through different lenses, they form the basis of medical ethics. In effect, every acute decision, every aspect of treatment is predicated upon the principles of nonmaleficence, beneficence, utility, distributive justice, and autonomy. Yet, the manner in which they are applied is highly contingent upon myriad variables. For example, sociopolitical factors, including population size (rural versus urban), economics (impoverished versus wealthy), as well as demographic factors (age, ethnicity, gender, sexuality) can highly influence and sometimes unknowingly influence interpretation and allocation of health care resources. This dilemma does not yield easily applicable and universal solutions. Nevertheless, it is paramount to evaluate policies effectively and tediously, particularly those with detrimental ramifications. Likewise, remaining flexible in our willingness to explore alternative solutions and encourage open discord among those with opposing viewpoints is key to instituting individual or institutional change that values the one as it values the many.

After several weeks of acute illness and a variety of short-acting interventions, I received approval to resume intravenous therapy. While the saga has ultimately reached a satisfactory conclusion, I am left with stupefied disbelief toward the people who took a gamble on my health. I am facing a battle between understanding the obligation of medicine to provide ethical and reasonable care without hesitation or judgment versus embittered resentment when faced with those who openly campaign against lifesaving interventions, such as the COVID-19 vaccine. For me, each day and the one that follows is riddled with complicated emotion. Every time I prematurely cease activity out of discomfort and weariness, I worry about my increasingly foreboding workload. In those moments, in that place of questions without answers, I remember that someone somewhere ultimately decided to switch the trolley’s track.

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

The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted a major gap in our institutional infrastructure in medicine – specifically, the absence of established policies and programs to support clinician wellbeing and organizational resilience.

In a 2020 report, the National Academy of Medicine advocated for “fixing the workplace,” rather than “fixing the worker,” as a more sustainable mechanism to advance physician wellbeing and foster organizational resilience. According to the report, “A resilient organization, or one that has matched job demands with job resources for its workers and that has created a culture of connection, transparency, and improvement, is better positioned to achieve organizational objectives during ordinary times and also to weather challenges during times of crisis” (Sinsky CA et al. “Organizational Evidence-Based and Promising Practices for Improving Clinician Well-Being.” National Academy of Medicine. Nov. 2, 2020.

The report highlights six domains of evidence-based practices to support organizational resilience and improve clinician well-being: organizational commitment, workforce assessment (such as measurement of physician wellbeing and burnout); leadership (including shared accountability, distributed leadership, and the emerging role of a chief wellness officer), policy (such as eliminating and/or re-envisioning policies and practices that interfere with clinicians’ ability to provide high-quality patient care), (5) efficiency (such as minimizing administrative tasks to allow clinicians to focus on patient care), and (6) support (such as providing resources and/or policies to support work-life balance, fostering a culture of connection at work). While many organizations (including both academic and community practices) already have begun to invest in this transformation, I urge you to think creatively about whether there is more your practice can do at an organizational level to support and sustain clinician wellbeing and prevent burnout.

In this month’s issue of GIHN, we highlight AGA’s new Clinical Practice Guideline on Coagulation in Cirrhosis, as well as results from a study confirming the benefits of coffee for liver health (welcome news to the caffeine-lovers among us!). We also report on a novel text-based patient-education intervention that aims to connect patients newly diagnosed with colorectal cancer to valuable resources and support.

Thank you for your dedicated readership – we look forward to continuing to bring you engaging, clinically-relevant content in 2022!

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

The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted a major gap in our institutional infrastructure in medicine – specifically, the absence of established policies and programs to support clinician wellbeing and organizational resilience.

In a 2020 report, the National Academy of Medicine advocated for “fixing the workplace,” rather than “fixing the worker,” as a more sustainable mechanism to advance physician wellbeing and foster organizational resilience. According to the report, “A resilient organization, or one that has matched job demands with job resources for its workers and that has created a culture of connection, transparency, and improvement, is better positioned to achieve organizational objectives during ordinary times and also to weather challenges during times of crisis” (Sinsky CA et al. “Organizational Evidence-Based and Promising Practices for Improving Clinician Well-Being.” National Academy of Medicine. Nov. 2, 2020.

The report highlights six domains of evidence-based practices to support organizational resilience and improve clinician well-being: organizational commitment, workforce assessment (such as measurement of physician wellbeing and burnout); leadership (including shared accountability, distributed leadership, and the emerging role of a chief wellness officer), policy (such as eliminating and/or re-envisioning policies and practices that interfere with clinicians’ ability to provide high-quality patient care), (5) efficiency (such as minimizing administrative tasks to allow clinicians to focus on patient care), and (6) support (such as providing resources and/or policies to support work-life balance, fostering a culture of connection at work). While many organizations (including both academic and community practices) already have begun to invest in this transformation, I urge you to think creatively about whether there is more your practice can do at an organizational level to support and sustain clinician wellbeing and prevent burnout.

In this month’s issue of GIHN, we highlight AGA’s new Clinical Practice Guideline on Coagulation in Cirrhosis, as well as results from a study confirming the benefits of coffee for liver health (welcome news to the caffeine-lovers among us!). We also report on a novel text-based patient-education intervention that aims to connect patients newly diagnosed with colorectal cancer to valuable resources and support.

Thank you for your dedicated readership – we look forward to continuing to bring you engaging, clinically-relevant content in 2022!

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

The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted a major gap in our institutional infrastructure in medicine – specifically, the absence of established policies and programs to support clinician wellbeing and organizational resilience.

In a 2020 report, the National Academy of Medicine advocated for “fixing the workplace,” rather than “fixing the worker,” as a more sustainable mechanism to advance physician wellbeing and foster organizational resilience. According to the report, “A resilient organization, or one that has matched job demands with job resources for its workers and that has created a culture of connection, transparency, and improvement, is better positioned to achieve organizational objectives during ordinary times and also to weather challenges during times of crisis” (Sinsky CA et al. “Organizational Evidence-Based and Promising Practices for Improving Clinician Well-Being.” National Academy of Medicine. Nov. 2, 2020.

The report highlights six domains of evidence-based practices to support organizational resilience and improve clinician well-being: organizational commitment, workforce assessment (such as measurement of physician wellbeing and burnout); leadership (including shared accountability, distributed leadership, and the emerging role of a chief wellness officer), policy (such as eliminating and/or re-envisioning policies and practices that interfere with clinicians’ ability to provide high-quality patient care), (5) efficiency (such as minimizing administrative tasks to allow clinicians to focus on patient care), and (6) support (such as providing resources and/or policies to support work-life balance, fostering a culture of connection at work). While many organizations (including both academic and community practices) already have begun to invest in this transformation, I urge you to think creatively about whether there is more your practice can do at an organizational level to support and sustain clinician wellbeing and prevent burnout.

In this month’s issue of GIHN, we highlight AGA’s new Clinical Practice Guideline on Coagulation in Cirrhosis, as well as results from a study confirming the benefits of coffee for liver health (welcome news to the caffeine-lovers among us!). We also report on a novel text-based patient-education intervention that aims to connect patients newly diagnosed with colorectal cancer to valuable resources and support.

Thank you for your dedicated readership – we look forward to continuing to bring you engaging, clinically-relevant content in 2022!

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