Commentary

I recently saw a 62-year-old patient who had been struggling in her job at a law firm. She had been one of the top paralegals for over a decade, but recently had received a poor job performance. She told me she was forgetting things and was worried she might be developing dementia. Fortunately her problem stemmed from sleep apnea, and resolved with continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) therapy.

Wallace and Bucks performed a meta analysis of 42 studies of memory in patients with sleep apnea and found sleep apnea patients were impaired when compared to healthy controls on verbal episodic memory (immediate recall, delayed recall, learning, and recognition) and visuospatial episodic memory (immediate and delayed recall).¹ A meta-analysis by Olaithe and associates found an improvement in executive function in patients with sleep apnea who were treated with CPAP.² I think this is worth considering especially in your patients who have subjective memory disturbances and do not appear to have a mild cognitive impairment or dementia.

About 15 years ago I saw a 74-year-old man for nocturia. He had seen two urologists and had a transurethral resection of the prostate (TURP) without any real change in his nocturia. I trialed him on all sorts of medications, and he seemed to improve temporarily a little on trazodone (went from seven episodes a night to four).

Eventually, after several years, I sent him for a sleep study. He had severe sleep apnea (Apnea Hypopnea Index, 65; O₂ saturations as low as 60%). With treatment, his nocturia resolved. He went from seven episodes to two each night.

Zhou and colleagues performed a meta-analysis of 13 studies looking at the association of sleep apnea with nocturia.³ They found that men with sleep apnea have a high incidence of nocturia.

Miyazato and colleagues looked at the effect of CPAP treatment on nighttime urine production in patients with obstructive sleep apnea.⁴ In this small study of 40 patients, mean nighttime voiding episodes decreased from 2.1 to 1.2 (P < .01).

I have seen several patients with night sweats who ended up having sleep apnea. These patients have had a resolution of their night sweats with sleep apnea treatment.

Arnardottir and colleagues found that obstructive sleep apnea was associated with frequent nocturnal sweating.⁵ They found that 31% of men and 33% of women with OSA had nocturnal sweating, compared with about 10% of the general population.

When the OSA patients were treated with positive airway pressure, the prevalence of nocturnal sweating decreased to 11.5%, which is similar to general population numbers. Given how common both sleep apnea and night sweats are, this is an important consideration as you evaluate night sweats.

I have seen many patients who have had atrial fibrillation and sleep apnea. Shapira-Daniels and colleagues did a prospective study of 188 patients with atrial fibrillation without a history of sleep apnea who were referred for ablation.⁶ All patients had home sleep studies, and testing was consistent with sleep apnea in 82% of patients.

Kanagala and associates found that patients with untreated sleep apnea had a greater chance of recurrent atrial fibrillation after cardioversion.⁷ Recurrence of atrial fibrillation at 12 months was 82% in untreated OSA patients, higher than the 42% recurrence in the treated OSA group (P = .013) and the 53% recurrence in control patients.

I think sleep apnea evaluation should be strongly considered in patients with atrial fibrillation and should be done before referral for ablations.

Pearl: Consider sleep apnea as a possible cause of or contributing factor to the common primary care problems of cognitive concerns, nocturia, night sweats, and atrial fibrillation.

Dr. Paauw is professor of medicine in the division of general internal medicine at the University of Washington, Seattle, and serves as 3rd-year medical student clerkship director at the University of Washington. He is a member of the editorial advisory board of Internal Medicine News. Dr. Paauw has no conflicts to disclose. Contact him at imnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Wallace A and Bucks RS. Memory and obstructive sleep apnea: a meta-analysis. Sleep. 2013;36(2):203. Epub 2013 Feb 1.

2. Olaithe M and Bucks RS. Executive dysfunction in OSA before and after treatment: a meta-analysis. Sleep. 2013;36(9):1297. Epub 2013 Sep 1.

3. Zhou J et al. Association between obstructive sleep apnea syndrome and nocturia: a meta-analysis. Sleep Breath. 2020 Dec;24(4):1293-8.

4. Miyauchi Y et al. Effect of the continuous positive airway pressure on the nocturnal urine volume or night-time frequency in patients with obstructive sleep apnea syndrome. Urology 2015;85:333.

5. Arnardottir ES et al. Nocturnal sweating–a common symptom of obstructive sleep apnoea: the Icelandic sleep apnoea cohort. BMJ Open. 2013 May 14;3(5):e002795. BMJ Open 2013;3:e002795

6. Shapira-Daniels A et al. Prevalence of undiagnosed sleep apnea in patients with atrial fibrillation and its impact on therapy. JACC Clin Electrophysiol. 2020;6(12):1499. Epub 2020 Aug 12.

7. Kanagala R et al. Obstructive sleep apnea and the recurrence of atrial fibrillation. Circulation. 2003;107(20):2589. Epub 2003 May 12.

I recently saw a 62-year-old patient who had been struggling in her job at a law firm. She had been one of the top paralegals for over a decade, but recently had received a poor job performance. She told me she was forgetting things and was worried she might be developing dementia. Fortunately her problem stemmed from sleep apnea, and resolved with continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) therapy.

Wallace and Bucks performed a meta analysis of 42 studies of memory in patients with sleep apnea and found sleep apnea patients were impaired when compared to healthy controls on verbal episodic memory (immediate recall, delayed recall, learning, and recognition) and visuospatial episodic memory (immediate and delayed recall).¹ A meta-analysis by Olaithe and associates found an improvement in executive function in patients with sleep apnea who were treated with CPAP.² I think this is worth considering especially in your patients who have subjective memory disturbances and do not appear to have a mild cognitive impairment or dementia.

About 15 years ago I saw a 74-year-old man for nocturia. He had seen two urologists and had a transurethral resection of the prostate (TURP) without any real change in his nocturia. I trialed him on all sorts of medications, and he seemed to improve temporarily a little on trazodone (went from seven episodes a night to four).

Eventually, after several years, I sent him for a sleep study. He had severe sleep apnea (Apnea Hypopnea Index, 65; O₂ saturations as low as 60%). With treatment, his nocturia resolved. He went from seven episodes to two each night.

Zhou and colleagues performed a meta-analysis of 13 studies looking at the association of sleep apnea with nocturia.³ They found that men with sleep apnea have a high incidence of nocturia.

Miyazato and colleagues looked at the effect of CPAP treatment on nighttime urine production in patients with obstructive sleep apnea.⁴ In this small study of 40 patients, mean nighttime voiding episodes decreased from 2.1 to 1.2 (P < .01).

I have seen several patients with night sweats who ended up having sleep apnea. These patients have had a resolution of their night sweats with sleep apnea treatment.

Arnardottir and colleagues found that obstructive sleep apnea was associated with frequent nocturnal sweating.⁵ They found that 31% of men and 33% of women with OSA had nocturnal sweating, compared with about 10% of the general population.

When the OSA patients were treated with positive airway pressure, the prevalence of nocturnal sweating decreased to 11.5%, which is similar to general population numbers. Given how common both sleep apnea and night sweats are, this is an important consideration as you evaluate night sweats.

I have seen many patients who have had atrial fibrillation and sleep apnea. Shapira-Daniels and colleagues did a prospective study of 188 patients with atrial fibrillation without a history of sleep apnea who were referred for ablation.⁶ All patients had home sleep studies, and testing was consistent with sleep apnea in 82% of patients.

Kanagala and associates found that patients with untreated sleep apnea had a greater chance of recurrent atrial fibrillation after cardioversion.⁷ Recurrence of atrial fibrillation at 12 months was 82% in untreated OSA patients, higher than the 42% recurrence in the treated OSA group (P = .013) and the 53% recurrence in control patients.

I think sleep apnea evaluation should be strongly considered in patients with atrial fibrillation and should be done before referral for ablations.

Pearl: Consider sleep apnea as a possible cause of or contributing factor to the common primary care problems of cognitive concerns, nocturia, night sweats, and atrial fibrillation.

Dr. Paauw is professor of medicine in the division of general internal medicine at the University of Washington, Seattle, and serves as 3rd-year medical student clerkship director at the University of Washington. He is a member of the editorial advisory board of Internal Medicine News. Dr. Paauw has no conflicts to disclose. Contact him at imnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Wallace A and Bucks RS. Memory and obstructive sleep apnea: a meta-analysis. Sleep. 2013;36(2):203. Epub 2013 Feb 1.

2. Olaithe M and Bucks RS. Executive dysfunction in OSA before and after treatment: a meta-analysis. Sleep. 2013;36(9):1297. Epub 2013 Sep 1.

3. Zhou J et al. Association between obstructive sleep apnea syndrome and nocturia: a meta-analysis. Sleep Breath. 2020 Dec;24(4):1293-8.

4. Miyauchi Y et al. Effect of the continuous positive airway pressure on the nocturnal urine volume or night-time frequency in patients with obstructive sleep apnea syndrome. Urology 2015;85:333.

5. Arnardottir ES et al. Nocturnal sweating–a common symptom of obstructive sleep apnoea: the Icelandic sleep apnoea cohort. BMJ Open. 2013 May 14;3(5):e002795. BMJ Open 2013;3:e002795

6. Shapira-Daniels A et al. Prevalence of undiagnosed sleep apnea in patients with atrial fibrillation and its impact on therapy. JACC Clin Electrophysiol. 2020;6(12):1499. Epub 2020 Aug 12.

7. Kanagala R et al. Obstructive sleep apnea and the recurrence of atrial fibrillation. Circulation. 2003;107(20):2589. Epub 2003 May 12.

I recently saw a 62-year-old patient who had been struggling in her job at a law firm. She had been one of the top paralegals for over a decade, but recently had received a poor job performance. She told me she was forgetting things and was worried she might be developing dementia. Fortunately her problem stemmed from sleep apnea, and resolved with continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) therapy.

Wallace and Bucks performed a meta analysis of 42 studies of memory in patients with sleep apnea and found sleep apnea patients were impaired when compared to healthy controls on verbal episodic memory (immediate recall, delayed recall, learning, and recognition) and visuospatial episodic memory (immediate and delayed recall).¹ A meta-analysis by Olaithe and associates found an improvement in executive function in patients with sleep apnea who were treated with CPAP.² I think this is worth considering especially in your patients who have subjective memory disturbances and do not appear to have a mild cognitive impairment or dementia.

About 15 years ago I saw a 74-year-old man for nocturia. He had seen two urologists and had a transurethral resection of the prostate (TURP) without any real change in his nocturia. I trialed him on all sorts of medications, and he seemed to improve temporarily a little on trazodone (went from seven episodes a night to four).

Eventually, after several years, I sent him for a sleep study. He had severe sleep apnea (Apnea Hypopnea Index, 65; O₂ saturations as low as 60%). With treatment, his nocturia resolved. He went from seven episodes to two each night.

Zhou and colleagues performed a meta-analysis of 13 studies looking at the association of sleep apnea with nocturia.³ They found that men with sleep apnea have a high incidence of nocturia.

Miyazato and colleagues looked at the effect of CPAP treatment on nighttime urine production in patients with obstructive sleep apnea.⁴ In this small study of 40 patients, mean nighttime voiding episodes decreased from 2.1 to 1.2 (P < .01).

I have seen several patients with night sweats who ended up having sleep apnea. These patients have had a resolution of their night sweats with sleep apnea treatment.

Arnardottir and colleagues found that obstructive sleep apnea was associated with frequent nocturnal sweating.⁵ They found that 31% of men and 33% of women with OSA had nocturnal sweating, compared with about 10% of the general population.

When the OSA patients were treated with positive airway pressure, the prevalence of nocturnal sweating decreased to 11.5%, which is similar to general population numbers. Given how common both sleep apnea and night sweats are, this is an important consideration as you evaluate night sweats.

I have seen many patients who have had atrial fibrillation and sleep apnea. Shapira-Daniels and colleagues did a prospective study of 188 patients with atrial fibrillation without a history of sleep apnea who were referred for ablation.⁶ All patients had home sleep studies, and testing was consistent with sleep apnea in 82% of patients.

Kanagala and associates found that patients with untreated sleep apnea had a greater chance of recurrent atrial fibrillation after cardioversion.⁷ Recurrence of atrial fibrillation at 12 months was 82% in untreated OSA patients, higher than the 42% recurrence in the treated OSA group (P = .013) and the 53% recurrence in control patients.

I think sleep apnea evaluation should be strongly considered in patients with atrial fibrillation and should be done before referral for ablations.

Pearl: Consider sleep apnea as a possible cause of or contributing factor to the common primary care problems of cognitive concerns, nocturia, night sweats, and atrial fibrillation.

Dr. Paauw is professor of medicine in the division of general internal medicine at the University of Washington, Seattle, and serves as 3rd-year medical student clerkship director at the University of Washington. He is a member of the editorial advisory board of Internal Medicine News. Dr. Paauw has no conflicts to disclose. Contact him at imnews@mdedge.com.

References

1. Wallace A and Bucks RS. Memory and obstructive sleep apnea: a meta-analysis. Sleep. 2013;36(2):203. Epub 2013 Feb 1.

2. Olaithe M and Bucks RS. Executive dysfunction in OSA before and after treatment: a meta-analysis. Sleep. 2013;36(9):1297. Epub 2013 Sep 1.

3. Zhou J et al. Association between obstructive sleep apnea syndrome and nocturia: a meta-analysis. Sleep Breath. 2020 Dec;24(4):1293-8.

4. Miyauchi Y et al. Effect of the continuous positive airway pressure on the nocturnal urine volume or night-time frequency in patients with obstructive sleep apnea syndrome. Urology 2015;85:333.

5. Arnardottir ES et al. Nocturnal sweating–a common symptom of obstructive sleep apnoea: the Icelandic sleep apnoea cohort. BMJ Open. 2013 May 14;3(5):e002795. BMJ Open 2013;3:e002795

6. Shapira-Daniels A et al. Prevalence of undiagnosed sleep apnea in patients with atrial fibrillation and its impact on therapy. JACC Clin Electrophysiol. 2020;6(12):1499. Epub 2020 Aug 12.

7. Kanagala R et al. Obstructive sleep apnea and the recurrence of atrial fibrillation. Circulation. 2003;107(20):2589. Epub 2003 May 12.

The catastrophic collapse of the Surfside, Fla., Champlain Towers South left ambiguous loss, trauma, grief, and other psychiatric and psychological sequelae in its wake.

Now that a few months have passed since the tragedy, which took the lives of 98 residents, it is helpful to examine the psychiatric and psychological support efforts that emerged.

We can think of those support efforts as operating on two tracks: one was pursued by mental health professionals representing numerous organizations; the other was pursued by local, regional, and international first responders – specifically, by Israeli Defense Force (IDF) members who came to our community at the request of Surfside families.

Those efforts were guided by existing frameworks for crisis response designed to provide containment amid the naturally disorganizing effects of the trauma and ambiguous loss. In retrospect, it was clear that the mechanisms by which those frameworks coalesced and functioned were more implicit and organically synchronous than explicitly coordinated and agreed upon. As the rescue and support efforts proceeded, and a unique “Surfside collapse community” formed; key themes emerged and revealed intrinsic links between the first-responder/search and rescue and psychological strategies.

In this article, we discuss relevant themes and parallels between the psychological intervention/strategies and the first-responder disaster response and the practical utility of implementing an integrated strategy. Our hope is that a better understanding of these strategies will help future therapists and responders who respond to crises.
 

Setting the frame

The importance of setting a psychotherapeutic frame is indisputable regardless of theoretical orientation or therapeutic modality. Predictable, consistent conditions under which therapy takes place support a patient’s capacity to tolerate the ambiguous and unpredictable aspects of the process. Those “rules of engagement” provide a structure where subjective experiences can be formulated, organized, understood, and integrated. Twice-daily briefs held in a centralized location (dubbed the Surfside “family center”) paralleled this frame and served that same containing function by offering structure, order, and predictability amid the palpable chaos of ambiguous loss and traumatic grief. Those briefs provided key information on the status of the operation and described the rescue strategy. These were led by the Miami-Dade assistant fire chief and IDF colonel (E.E.), who presented a unified front and consistent presence.

It is essential that briefings such as these be coordinated (and unified) with clear expectations about ground rules, much like what is involved in therapeutic informed consent. In this context, rules included permissions related to documentation of meetings, information sharing, and rules of communication with the media in an effort to protect the vulnerable.

The centralized meeting location served as an important center of gravity and unified place of waiting and information receipt. It provided a dedicated space to meet with humanitarian aid organizations and government officials, and symbolized continuity, consistency, ease of information transmission, and a place where practical needs could be addressed. Meals, toiletries, and other supplies were provided to simplify and maintain daily routines. Those are otherwise unremarkable practices that seemed impossible to manage amid a crisis, yet can be inherently grounding and emotionally organizing when facing deep psychological fragmentation.

Meeting in person allowed the IDF to offer operational visuals to allow those affected to feel less helpless and cultivate a sense of purpose by being part of the strategy/mission. Their strategy included “population intelligence,” which was aimed at both information gathering to practically facilitate the rescue/recovery process (for example, locating victims, property, and recreating a visual of how the building fell), and inspiring people to participate. This engagement helped many transition from a place of denial/repression to acknowledging loss/grief, and from a passive to active part of the effort, in a way that was safe and realistic – as opposed to going to the site and aiding themselves, as some had requested.

Naturally, a central location made it possible to offer immediate psychological assistance and support. Clinicians responding to crisis should be carefully selected in light of the immense suffering, emotional vulnerability, and heightened reactivity of those affected. People were overwhelmed by deep sorrow, fear, anger, and uncertainty, vacillating between hope and despair, and mobilized by a desire to help. Those providing support need to be interpersonally skilled and able to regulate their own emotions. They must be able to formulate – in real time – an understanding of what is needed, and implement a strategic plan. Like first responders, it is also key for providers to be easily accessible and identifiable in uniform so that people in the grip of a survival response can easily identify and elicit support.

The power of strategy

The Israeli delegation and mental health approaches were aligned with respect to cultivating a team identity and keeping the team spirit elevated. The delegation’s approach was to deemphasize rank during the mission in that everyone was responsible for anything that was needed and no task was below anyone’s rank. The same was true for the mental health support response: Early interventions were focused on addressing practical needs – providing blankets, water, chargers, food, and a calming presence to counter the initial chaos. No task was too small, regardless of title or role. As more structure and order ensued, it was possible to offer more traditional crisis-related interventions aimed at grounding those affected.

Both teams worked to ensure 24-hour coverage, which was crucial given the need for consistency and continuity. Our commitment was to support the victims’ families and survivors by fully embracing the chaos and the situational demands, offering attunement and support, and satisfying both basic and higher-level needs. We divided and conquered work, observed signals of need, offered immediate support where necessary, and coordinated longer-term care plans when possible. The importance of ongoing self-care, consultation, and debriefing while doing this work cannot be overstated. Time to address basic needs and the impact of vicarious trauma as a team must be built in.
 

Importance of flexibility

This tragedy came with unique complexities and sensitivities that needed to be identified expediently and addressed with a concrete, comprehensive plan. This was true for both the rescue and psychological support efforts, and flexibility was key. There was nothing traditional about our work from a therapeutic perspective – we found quiet corners and empty offices, went for walks, met in lobbies, and checked in by phone. The interventions were brief.

Roles shifted often between aiding in addressing practical needs, advocating for victims and connecting them to appropriate resources, supporting the police in making death notifications, providing support and space for processing during and after briefings, and more.

Similarly, the rescue team constantly reevaluated their strategy because of what they discovered as they dismantled the collapsed building, in addition to managing external impacting factors (heat, rain, lightning, and the threat of the remaining structure falling).
 

Language matters

The iteration of commitment to the families/victims/mission and to work speedily and efficiently was important for both rescuers and therapists. It was key during the briefings for the chief and colonel (E.E.) to share information in a manner that was professional, discreet, honest and explicit. Their willingness and ability to be vulnerable and to share their personal feelings as active rescuers humanized them. Their approach was matter of fact, yet warm, loving, and containing, all of which conveyed dignity and respect.

Word choice mattered, and the IDF’s intentional choice to refer to recovered victims as “souls,” rather than “bodies,” conveyed their sensitivity to the intensity of anguish, depth of loss, and gravity of the situation. From a psychological perspective, the transition between “rescue” efforts signifying the potential saving of lives to “recovery” of bodies or remains was significant and demarcated a dramatic shift. The weeks-long efforts, once painfully slow, then felt too abrupt to process.

One extraordinary moment was the chief’s response to the families’ discomfort at the news of the switch from rescue to recovery. The families were anxious about losing the structure that the briefings provided and were apprehensive about the handoff from fire to the police department. With great compassion and attunement, he assured them that he would stay with them, and they together, as a family, would decide when to conclude the in-person briefings. The colonel (E.E.), too, provided assurance that neither procedure nor the urgency of the recovery would change. It was both heart-warming and containing that information related to the operation was shared in a clear manner, and that the thought process and rationale behind major decisions (e.g., demolishing the remaining building, decision to pause operations, switch from rescue to recovery) was shared. It was useful for the clinicians to be aware of this rationale in helping individuals metabolize the information and process the associated trauma and grief.
 

Unification is key

Surfside has left an indelible impact on us. We saw and experienced unity in many respects – clinicians from various backgrounds collaborating, families bonding and caring for one another, community support and solidarity, and the cooperation and coordination of the search and rescue teams. The diverse groups providing support came to feel like a family, and the importance of inter- and intrateam integration cannot be overstated. We were transformed both by our professional collaborations and authentic connections with those affected, and will forever cherish the experience, one another, the families, and the souls lost.

Dr. Feldman is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice in Miami. She is an adjunct professor in the college of psychology at Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where she teaches clinical psychology doctoral students. She also serves on the board of directors of The Southeast Florida Association for Psychoanalytic Psychology. Dr. Feldman has no disclosures. Col. Edri is the Israeli Defense Forces District Commander of the Home Front Command Haifa District. He served as the deputy commander for the Israeli Defense Forces Search and Rescue Delegation, which was brought in to provide international aid to the local and domestic forces responding to the Surfside, Fla., building collapse. Col. Edri has no disclosures. Dr. Davidtz is a licensed psychologist and associate professor in the College of Psychology at Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where she is director of internship training for the Psychology Services Center and director of psychological services for the emotionally distressed, a specialty clinic that serves people with serious mental illness and personality disorders. She also maintains a part-time private practice specializing in the treatment of complex posttraumatic conditions and personality disorders. Dr. Davidtz has no disclosures.

The catastrophic collapse of the Surfside, Fla., Champlain Towers South left ambiguous loss, trauma, grief, and other psychiatric and psychological sequelae in its wake.

Now that a few months have passed since the tragedy, which took the lives of 98 residents, it is helpful to examine the psychiatric and psychological support efforts that emerged.

We can think of those support efforts as operating on two tracks: one was pursued by mental health professionals representing numerous organizations; the other was pursued by local, regional, and international first responders – specifically, by Israeli Defense Force (IDF) members who came to our community at the request of Surfside families.

Those efforts were guided by existing frameworks for crisis response designed to provide containment amid the naturally disorganizing effects of the trauma and ambiguous loss. In retrospect, it was clear that the mechanisms by which those frameworks coalesced and functioned were more implicit and organically synchronous than explicitly coordinated and agreed upon. As the rescue and support efforts proceeded, and a unique “Surfside collapse community” formed; key themes emerged and revealed intrinsic links between the first-responder/search and rescue and psychological strategies.

In this article, we discuss relevant themes and parallels between the psychological intervention/strategies and the first-responder disaster response and the practical utility of implementing an integrated strategy. Our hope is that a better understanding of these strategies will help future therapists and responders who respond to crises.
 

Setting the frame

The importance of setting a psychotherapeutic frame is indisputable regardless of theoretical orientation or therapeutic modality. Predictable, consistent conditions under which therapy takes place support a patient’s capacity to tolerate the ambiguous and unpredictable aspects of the process. Those “rules of engagement” provide a structure where subjective experiences can be formulated, organized, understood, and integrated. Twice-daily briefs held in a centralized location (dubbed the Surfside “family center”) paralleled this frame and served that same containing function by offering structure, order, and predictability amid the palpable chaos of ambiguous loss and traumatic grief. Those briefs provided key information on the status of the operation and described the rescue strategy. These were led by the Miami-Dade assistant fire chief and IDF colonel (E.E.), who presented a unified front and consistent presence.

It is essential that briefings such as these be coordinated (and unified) with clear expectations about ground rules, much like what is involved in therapeutic informed consent. In this context, rules included permissions related to documentation of meetings, information sharing, and rules of communication with the media in an effort to protect the vulnerable.

The centralized meeting location served as an important center of gravity and unified place of waiting and information receipt. It provided a dedicated space to meet with humanitarian aid organizations and government officials, and symbolized continuity, consistency, ease of information transmission, and a place where practical needs could be addressed. Meals, toiletries, and other supplies were provided to simplify and maintain daily routines. Those are otherwise unremarkable practices that seemed impossible to manage amid a crisis, yet can be inherently grounding and emotionally organizing when facing deep psychological fragmentation.

Meeting in person allowed the IDF to offer operational visuals to allow those affected to feel less helpless and cultivate a sense of purpose by being part of the strategy/mission. Their strategy included “population intelligence,” which was aimed at both information gathering to practically facilitate the rescue/recovery process (for example, locating victims, property, and recreating a visual of how the building fell), and inspiring people to participate. This engagement helped many transition from a place of denial/repression to acknowledging loss/grief, and from a passive to active part of the effort, in a way that was safe and realistic – as opposed to going to the site and aiding themselves, as some had requested.

Naturally, a central location made it possible to offer immediate psychological assistance and support. Clinicians responding to crisis should be carefully selected in light of the immense suffering, emotional vulnerability, and heightened reactivity of those affected. People were overwhelmed by deep sorrow, fear, anger, and uncertainty, vacillating between hope and despair, and mobilized by a desire to help. Those providing support need to be interpersonally skilled and able to regulate their own emotions. They must be able to formulate – in real time – an understanding of what is needed, and implement a strategic plan. Like first responders, it is also key for providers to be easily accessible and identifiable in uniform so that people in the grip of a survival response can easily identify and elicit support.

The power of strategy

The Israeli delegation and mental health approaches were aligned with respect to cultivating a team identity and keeping the team spirit elevated. The delegation’s approach was to deemphasize rank during the mission in that everyone was responsible for anything that was needed and no task was below anyone’s rank. The same was true for the mental health support response: Early interventions were focused on addressing practical needs – providing blankets, water, chargers, food, and a calming presence to counter the initial chaos. No task was too small, regardless of title or role. As more structure and order ensued, it was possible to offer more traditional crisis-related interventions aimed at grounding those affected.

Both teams worked to ensure 24-hour coverage, which was crucial given the need for consistency and continuity. Our commitment was to support the victims’ families and survivors by fully embracing the chaos and the situational demands, offering attunement and support, and satisfying both basic and higher-level needs. We divided and conquered work, observed signals of need, offered immediate support where necessary, and coordinated longer-term care plans when possible. The importance of ongoing self-care, consultation, and debriefing while doing this work cannot be overstated. Time to address basic needs and the impact of vicarious trauma as a team must be built in.
 

Importance of flexibility

This tragedy came with unique complexities and sensitivities that needed to be identified expediently and addressed with a concrete, comprehensive plan. This was true for both the rescue and psychological support efforts, and flexibility was key. There was nothing traditional about our work from a therapeutic perspective – we found quiet corners and empty offices, went for walks, met in lobbies, and checked in by phone. The interventions were brief.

Roles shifted often between aiding in addressing practical needs, advocating for victims and connecting them to appropriate resources, supporting the police in making death notifications, providing support and space for processing during and after briefings, and more.

Similarly, the rescue team constantly reevaluated their strategy because of what they discovered as they dismantled the collapsed building, in addition to managing external impacting factors (heat, rain, lightning, and the threat of the remaining structure falling).
 

Language matters

The iteration of commitment to the families/victims/mission and to work speedily and efficiently was important for both rescuers and therapists. It was key during the briefings for the chief and colonel (E.E.) to share information in a manner that was professional, discreet, honest and explicit. Their willingness and ability to be vulnerable and to share their personal feelings as active rescuers humanized them. Their approach was matter of fact, yet warm, loving, and containing, all of which conveyed dignity and respect.

Word choice mattered, and the IDF’s intentional choice to refer to recovered victims as “souls,” rather than “bodies,” conveyed their sensitivity to the intensity of anguish, depth of loss, and gravity of the situation. From a psychological perspective, the transition between “rescue” efforts signifying the potential saving of lives to “recovery” of bodies or remains was significant and demarcated a dramatic shift. The weeks-long efforts, once painfully slow, then felt too abrupt to process.

One extraordinary moment was the chief’s response to the families’ discomfort at the news of the switch from rescue to recovery. The families were anxious about losing the structure that the briefings provided and were apprehensive about the handoff from fire to the police department. With great compassion and attunement, he assured them that he would stay with them, and they together, as a family, would decide when to conclude the in-person briefings. The colonel (E.E.), too, provided assurance that neither procedure nor the urgency of the recovery would change. It was both heart-warming and containing that information related to the operation was shared in a clear manner, and that the thought process and rationale behind major decisions (e.g., demolishing the remaining building, decision to pause operations, switch from rescue to recovery) was shared. It was useful for the clinicians to be aware of this rationale in helping individuals metabolize the information and process the associated trauma and grief.
 

Unification is key

Surfside has left an indelible impact on us. We saw and experienced unity in many respects – clinicians from various backgrounds collaborating, families bonding and caring for one another, community support and solidarity, and the cooperation and coordination of the search and rescue teams. The diverse groups providing support came to feel like a family, and the importance of inter- and intrateam integration cannot be overstated. We were transformed both by our professional collaborations and authentic connections with those affected, and will forever cherish the experience, one another, the families, and the souls lost.

Dr. Feldman is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice in Miami. She is an adjunct professor in the college of psychology at Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where she teaches clinical psychology doctoral students. She also serves on the board of directors of The Southeast Florida Association for Psychoanalytic Psychology. Dr. Feldman has no disclosures. Col. Edri is the Israeli Defense Forces District Commander of the Home Front Command Haifa District. He served as the deputy commander for the Israeli Defense Forces Search and Rescue Delegation, which was brought in to provide international aid to the local and domestic forces responding to the Surfside, Fla., building collapse. Col. Edri has no disclosures. Dr. Davidtz is a licensed psychologist and associate professor in the College of Psychology at Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where she is director of internship training for the Psychology Services Center and director of psychological services for the emotionally distressed, a specialty clinic that serves people with serious mental illness and personality disorders. She also maintains a part-time private practice specializing in the treatment of complex posttraumatic conditions and personality disorders. Dr. Davidtz has no disclosures.

The catastrophic collapse of the Surfside, Fla., Champlain Towers South left ambiguous loss, trauma, grief, and other psychiatric and psychological sequelae in its wake.

Now that a few months have passed since the tragedy, which took the lives of 98 residents, it is helpful to examine the psychiatric and psychological support efforts that emerged.

We can think of those support efforts as operating on two tracks: one was pursued by mental health professionals representing numerous organizations; the other was pursued by local, regional, and international first responders – specifically, by Israeli Defense Force (IDF) members who came to our community at the request of Surfside families.

Those efforts were guided by existing frameworks for crisis response designed to provide containment amid the naturally disorganizing effects of the trauma and ambiguous loss. In retrospect, it was clear that the mechanisms by which those frameworks coalesced and functioned were more implicit and organically synchronous than explicitly coordinated and agreed upon. As the rescue and support efforts proceeded, and a unique “Surfside collapse community” formed; key themes emerged and revealed intrinsic links between the first-responder/search and rescue and psychological strategies.

In this article, we discuss relevant themes and parallels between the psychological intervention/strategies and the first-responder disaster response and the practical utility of implementing an integrated strategy. Our hope is that a better understanding of these strategies will help future therapists and responders who respond to crises.
 

Setting the frame

The importance of setting a psychotherapeutic frame is indisputable regardless of theoretical orientation or therapeutic modality. Predictable, consistent conditions under which therapy takes place support a patient’s capacity to tolerate the ambiguous and unpredictable aspects of the process. Those “rules of engagement” provide a structure where subjective experiences can be formulated, organized, understood, and integrated. Twice-daily briefs held in a centralized location (dubbed the Surfside “family center”) paralleled this frame and served that same containing function by offering structure, order, and predictability amid the palpable chaos of ambiguous loss and traumatic grief. Those briefs provided key information on the status of the operation and described the rescue strategy. These were led by the Miami-Dade assistant fire chief and IDF colonel (E.E.), who presented a unified front and consistent presence.

It is essential that briefings such as these be coordinated (and unified) with clear expectations about ground rules, much like what is involved in therapeutic informed consent. In this context, rules included permissions related to documentation of meetings, information sharing, and rules of communication with the media in an effort to protect the vulnerable.

The centralized meeting location served as an important center of gravity and unified place of waiting and information receipt. It provided a dedicated space to meet with humanitarian aid organizations and government officials, and symbolized continuity, consistency, ease of information transmission, and a place where practical needs could be addressed. Meals, toiletries, and other supplies were provided to simplify and maintain daily routines. Those are otherwise unremarkable practices that seemed impossible to manage amid a crisis, yet can be inherently grounding and emotionally organizing when facing deep psychological fragmentation.

Meeting in person allowed the IDF to offer operational visuals to allow those affected to feel less helpless and cultivate a sense of purpose by being part of the strategy/mission. Their strategy included “population intelligence,” which was aimed at both information gathering to practically facilitate the rescue/recovery process (for example, locating victims, property, and recreating a visual of how the building fell), and inspiring people to participate. This engagement helped many transition from a place of denial/repression to acknowledging loss/grief, and from a passive to active part of the effort, in a way that was safe and realistic – as opposed to going to the site and aiding themselves, as some had requested.

Naturally, a central location made it possible to offer immediate psychological assistance and support. Clinicians responding to crisis should be carefully selected in light of the immense suffering, emotional vulnerability, and heightened reactivity of those affected. People were overwhelmed by deep sorrow, fear, anger, and uncertainty, vacillating between hope and despair, and mobilized by a desire to help. Those providing support need to be interpersonally skilled and able to regulate their own emotions. They must be able to formulate – in real time – an understanding of what is needed, and implement a strategic plan. Like first responders, it is also key for providers to be easily accessible and identifiable in uniform so that people in the grip of a survival response can easily identify and elicit support.

The power of strategy

The Israeli delegation and mental health approaches were aligned with respect to cultivating a team identity and keeping the team spirit elevated. The delegation’s approach was to deemphasize rank during the mission in that everyone was responsible for anything that was needed and no task was below anyone’s rank. The same was true for the mental health support response: Early interventions were focused on addressing practical needs – providing blankets, water, chargers, food, and a calming presence to counter the initial chaos. No task was too small, regardless of title or role. As more structure and order ensued, it was possible to offer more traditional crisis-related interventions aimed at grounding those affected.

Both teams worked to ensure 24-hour coverage, which was crucial given the need for consistency and continuity. Our commitment was to support the victims’ families and survivors by fully embracing the chaos and the situational demands, offering attunement and support, and satisfying both basic and higher-level needs. We divided and conquered work, observed signals of need, offered immediate support where necessary, and coordinated longer-term care plans when possible. The importance of ongoing self-care, consultation, and debriefing while doing this work cannot be overstated. Time to address basic needs and the impact of vicarious trauma as a team must be built in.
 

Importance of flexibility

This tragedy came with unique complexities and sensitivities that needed to be identified expediently and addressed with a concrete, comprehensive plan. This was true for both the rescue and psychological support efforts, and flexibility was key. There was nothing traditional about our work from a therapeutic perspective – we found quiet corners and empty offices, went for walks, met in lobbies, and checked in by phone. The interventions were brief.

Roles shifted often between aiding in addressing practical needs, advocating for victims and connecting them to appropriate resources, supporting the police in making death notifications, providing support and space for processing during and after briefings, and more.

Similarly, the rescue team constantly reevaluated their strategy because of what they discovered as they dismantled the collapsed building, in addition to managing external impacting factors (heat, rain, lightning, and the threat of the remaining structure falling).
 

Language matters

The iteration of commitment to the families/victims/mission and to work speedily and efficiently was important for both rescuers and therapists. It was key during the briefings for the chief and colonel (E.E.) to share information in a manner that was professional, discreet, honest and explicit. Their willingness and ability to be vulnerable and to share their personal feelings as active rescuers humanized them. Their approach was matter of fact, yet warm, loving, and containing, all of which conveyed dignity and respect.

Word choice mattered, and the IDF’s intentional choice to refer to recovered victims as “souls,” rather than “bodies,” conveyed their sensitivity to the intensity of anguish, depth of loss, and gravity of the situation. From a psychological perspective, the transition between “rescue” efforts signifying the potential saving of lives to “recovery” of bodies or remains was significant and demarcated a dramatic shift. The weeks-long efforts, once painfully slow, then felt too abrupt to process.

One extraordinary moment was the chief’s response to the families’ discomfort at the news of the switch from rescue to recovery. The families were anxious about losing the structure that the briefings provided and were apprehensive about the handoff from fire to the police department. With great compassion and attunement, he assured them that he would stay with them, and they together, as a family, would decide when to conclude the in-person briefings. The colonel (E.E.), too, provided assurance that neither procedure nor the urgency of the recovery would change. It was both heart-warming and containing that information related to the operation was shared in a clear manner, and that the thought process and rationale behind major decisions (e.g., demolishing the remaining building, decision to pause operations, switch from rescue to recovery) was shared. It was useful for the clinicians to be aware of this rationale in helping individuals metabolize the information and process the associated trauma and grief.
 

Unification is key

Surfside has left an indelible impact on us. We saw and experienced unity in many respects – clinicians from various backgrounds collaborating, families bonding and caring for one another, community support and solidarity, and the cooperation and coordination of the search and rescue teams. The diverse groups providing support came to feel like a family, and the importance of inter- and intrateam integration cannot be overstated. We were transformed both by our professional collaborations and authentic connections with those affected, and will forever cherish the experience, one another, the families, and the souls lost.

Dr. Feldman is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice in Miami. She is an adjunct professor in the college of psychology at Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where she teaches clinical psychology doctoral students. She also serves on the board of directors of The Southeast Florida Association for Psychoanalytic Psychology. Dr. Feldman has no disclosures. Col. Edri is the Israeli Defense Forces District Commander of the Home Front Command Haifa District. He served as the deputy commander for the Israeli Defense Forces Search and Rescue Delegation, which was brought in to provide international aid to the local and domestic forces responding to the Surfside, Fla., building collapse. Col. Edri has no disclosures. Dr. Davidtz is a licensed psychologist and associate professor in the College of Psychology at Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where she is director of internship training for the Psychology Services Center and director of psychological services for the emotionally distressed, a specialty clinic that serves people with serious mental illness and personality disorders. She also maintains a part-time private practice specializing in the treatment of complex posttraumatic conditions and personality disorders. Dr. Davidtz has no disclosures.

Let me tell you a story. In 5 billion years the sun will run out of hydrogen, the fuel it is currently burning to power my solar panels amongst other things. At that time, the sun will no longer be able to keep its core contracted and will expand into a fiery, red giant, engulfing earth and obliterating any sign that we ever existed. No buildings. No blog posts. No mausoleums. No stories. Nothing of us will remain.

Well, here for a moment anyway, I’ve gotten you to think about something other than COVID. You’re welcome.

Fascinatingly, the image in your mind’s eye right now of a barren scorched landscape was put there by me. Simply by placing a few words together I have caused new thoughts in your head. You might even share this story with someone else – I would have actually changed your behavior through the power of language. This miraculous phenomenon seems to be unique to us humans; we are the only ones who can create whole worlds in another individual’s head just by making a few sounds. We in medicine have the privilege of experiencing this miracle every day.

Last week, a 97-year-old pale, frail, white man saw me for a basal cell carcinoma on his cheek. While performing a simple electrodesiccation and curettage, I asked if he remembers getting a lot of sunburns when he was young. He certainly remembered one. On a blustery sunny day, he fell asleep for hours on the deck of the USS West Virginia while in the Philippines. As a radio man, he was exhausted from days of conflict and he recalled how warm breezes lulled him asleep. He was so sunburned that for days he forgot how afraid he was of the Japanese.

After listening to his story, I had an image in my mind of palm trees swaying in the tropical winds while hundreds of hulking gray castles sat hidden in the vast surrounding oceans awaiting one of the greatest naval conflicts in history. I got to hear it from surely one of the last remaining people in existence to be able to tell that story. Listening to a patient’s tales is one of the benefits of being a physician. Not only do they help bond us with our patients, but also help lessen our burden of having to make diagnosis after diagnosis and write note after note for hours on end. Somehow performing yet another biopsy that day is made just a bit easier if I’m also learning about what it was like at the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

Encouraging patients to talk more can be risky. No physician, not even allergists, can afford to be waylaid by a retiree with nothing else to do today. But meaningful encounters can not only be a vaccine against burnout, they also lead to better patient adherence and satisfaction. Sometimes, there is simply not time. But often there is a little window during a procedure or when you’re reasonably caught up and don’t expect delays ahead. When patients say that a doctor really listened to me, it is often not their medical history, but their life story they mean. And like every story, they literally transform us, the listener. In a true physical sense, their stories live on in me, and now that I’ve shared this one in writing, also with you for perpetuity. That is at least for the next 5 billion years when it, too, will be swallowed by the sun, leaving only a crispy, smoking rock where we once existed.

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

Let me tell you a story. In 5 billion years the sun will run out of hydrogen, the fuel it is currently burning to power my solar panels amongst other things. At that time, the sun will no longer be able to keep its core contracted and will expand into a fiery, red giant, engulfing earth and obliterating any sign that we ever existed. No buildings. No blog posts. No mausoleums. No stories. Nothing of us will remain.

Well, here for a moment anyway, I’ve gotten you to think about something other than COVID. You’re welcome.

Fascinatingly, the image in your mind’s eye right now of a barren scorched landscape was put there by me. Simply by placing a few words together I have caused new thoughts in your head. You might even share this story with someone else – I would have actually changed your behavior through the power of language. This miraculous phenomenon seems to be unique to us humans; we are the only ones who can create whole worlds in another individual’s head just by making a few sounds. We in medicine have the privilege of experiencing this miracle every day.

Last week, a 97-year-old pale, frail, white man saw me for a basal cell carcinoma on his cheek. While performing a simple electrodesiccation and curettage, I asked if he remembers getting a lot of sunburns when he was young. He certainly remembered one. On a blustery sunny day, he fell asleep for hours on the deck of the USS West Virginia while in the Philippines. As a radio man, he was exhausted from days of conflict and he recalled how warm breezes lulled him asleep. He was so sunburned that for days he forgot how afraid he was of the Japanese.

After listening to his story, I had an image in my mind of palm trees swaying in the tropical winds while hundreds of hulking gray castles sat hidden in the vast surrounding oceans awaiting one of the greatest naval conflicts in history. I got to hear it from surely one of the last remaining people in existence to be able to tell that story. Listening to a patient’s tales is one of the benefits of being a physician. Not only do they help bond us with our patients, but also help lessen our burden of having to make diagnosis after diagnosis and write note after note for hours on end. Somehow performing yet another biopsy that day is made just a bit easier if I’m also learning about what it was like at the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

Encouraging patients to talk more can be risky. No physician, not even allergists, can afford to be waylaid by a retiree with nothing else to do today. But meaningful encounters can not only be a vaccine against burnout, they also lead to better patient adherence and satisfaction. Sometimes, there is simply not time. But often there is a little window during a procedure or when you’re reasonably caught up and don’t expect delays ahead. When patients say that a doctor really listened to me, it is often not their medical history, but their life story they mean. And like every story, they literally transform us, the listener. In a true physical sense, their stories live on in me, and now that I’ve shared this one in writing, also with you for perpetuity. That is at least for the next 5 billion years when it, too, will be swallowed by the sun, leaving only a crispy, smoking rock where we once existed.

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

Let me tell you a story. In 5 billion years the sun will run out of hydrogen, the fuel it is currently burning to power my solar panels amongst other things. At that time, the sun will no longer be able to keep its core contracted and will expand into a fiery, red giant, engulfing earth and obliterating any sign that we ever existed. No buildings. No blog posts. No mausoleums. No stories. Nothing of us will remain.

Well, here for a moment anyway, I’ve gotten you to think about something other than COVID. You’re welcome.

Fascinatingly, the image in your mind’s eye right now of a barren scorched landscape was put there by me. Simply by placing a few words together I have caused new thoughts in your head. You might even share this story with someone else – I would have actually changed your behavior through the power of language. This miraculous phenomenon seems to be unique to us humans; we are the only ones who can create whole worlds in another individual’s head just by making a few sounds. We in medicine have the privilege of experiencing this miracle every day.

Last week, a 97-year-old pale, frail, white man saw me for a basal cell carcinoma on his cheek. While performing a simple electrodesiccation and curettage, I asked if he remembers getting a lot of sunburns when he was young. He certainly remembered one. On a blustery sunny day, he fell asleep for hours on the deck of the USS West Virginia while in the Philippines. As a radio man, he was exhausted from days of conflict and he recalled how warm breezes lulled him asleep. He was so sunburned that for days he forgot how afraid he was of the Japanese.

After listening to his story, I had an image in my mind of palm trees swaying in the tropical winds while hundreds of hulking gray castles sat hidden in the vast surrounding oceans awaiting one of the greatest naval conflicts in history. I got to hear it from surely one of the last remaining people in existence to be able to tell that story. Listening to a patient’s tales is one of the benefits of being a physician. Not only do they help bond us with our patients, but also help lessen our burden of having to make diagnosis after diagnosis and write note after note for hours on end. Somehow performing yet another biopsy that day is made just a bit easier if I’m also learning about what it was like at the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

Encouraging patients to talk more can be risky. No physician, not even allergists, can afford to be waylaid by a retiree with nothing else to do today. But meaningful encounters can not only be a vaccine against burnout, they also lead to better patient adherence and satisfaction. Sometimes, there is simply not time. But often there is a little window during a procedure or when you’re reasonably caught up and don’t expect delays ahead. When patients say that a doctor really listened to me, it is often not their medical history, but their life story they mean. And like every story, they literally transform us, the listener. In a true physical sense, their stories live on in me, and now that I’ve shared this one in writing, also with you for perpetuity. That is at least for the next 5 billion years when it, too, will be swallowed by the sun, leaving only a crispy, smoking rock where we once existed.

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

Substance use disorders can be a thorny topic in residency because of our role as gatekeepers of mental hospitals during our training. Intoxicated patients often get dismissed as a burden and distraction, malingering their way into a comfortable place to regain sobriety. This is extremely prevalent, often constituting the majority of patients seen during an emergency department call.

A typical interview may elicit any or all symptoms in the DSM yet be best explained by substance use intoxication or withdrawal. Alcohol and other CNS depressants commonly cause feelings of sadness and/or suicidality. Methamphetamine and other CNS stimulants commonly cause symptoms of psychosis or mania, followed by feelings of sadness and/or suicidality.

Different EDs have different degrees of patience for individuals in the process of becoming sober. Some departments will pressure clinicians into quickly discarding those patients and often frown upon any attempt at providing solace by raising the concern of reinforcing maladaptive behavior. A mystery-meat sandwich of admirable blandness may be the extent of help offered. Some more fortunate patients also receive a juice box or even a taxi voucher in an especially generous ED. This is always against our better judgment, of course, as we are told those gestures encourage abuse.

Other EDs will permit patients to remain until sober, allowing for another evaluation without the influence of controlled substances. We are reminded of many conversations with patients with substance use disorders, where topics discussed included: 1. Recommendation to seek substance use services, which are often nonexistent or with wait lists spanning months; 2. Education on the role of mental health hospitals and how patients’ despair in the context of intoxication does not meet some scriptural criteria; 3. Pep talks aided by such previously described sandwiches and juice boxes to encourage a sobering patient to leave the facility of their own will.

Methamphetamine, heroin, and alcohol are rarely one-and-done endeavors. We sparingly see our patients for their very first ED visit while intoxicated or crashing. They know how the system runs and which ED will more readily allow them an overnight stay. The number of times they have been recommended for substance use treatment is beyond counting – they may have been on a wait list a handful of times. They are aware of our reluctance to provide inpatient psychiatric treatment for substance use, but it is worth a shot trying, anyway – sometimes they get lucky. Usually it is the pep talk, relief from hunger pangs, and daylight that get them out the doors – until next time.

It is under this context that many trainees become psychiatrists, a process that solidifies the separation between drug use and mental illness. Many graduate from residency practically equating substance use disorder with malingering or futility. This can take on a surreal quality as many localities have recently adopted particular forms or requirements like the dispensation of naloxone syringes to all patients with substance use disorders. While the desire and effort are noble, it may suggest to a patient presenting for help that society’s main interest is to avoid seeing them die rather than help with available resources for maintaining sobriety.

Therein lies the conundrum, a conundrum that spans psychiatry to society. The conundrum is our ambivalence between punishing the choice of drug use or healing the substance use disorder. Should we discharge the intoxicated patient as soon as they are safe to walk out, or should we make every effort possible to find long-term solutions? Where someone decides to draw the line often seems quite arbitrary.
 

The calculation becomes more complex

A defining moment appears to have been society’s reconsideration of its stance on substance use disorders when affluent White teenagers started dying in the suburbs from pain pills overdoses. Suddenly, those children needed and deserved treatment, not punishment. We find ourselves far away from a time when the loudest societal commentary on substance use entailed mothers advocating for harsher sentences against drunk drivers.

More recently, as psychiatry and large contingents of society have decided to take up the mantle of equity and social justice, we have begun to make progress in decriminalizing substance use in an effort to reverse systemic discrimination toward minority groups. This has taken many shapes, including drug legalization, criminal justice reform, and even the provision of clean substance use paraphernalia for safer use of IV drugs. Police reform has led to reluctance to arrest or press charges for nonviolent crimes and reduced police presence in minority neighborhoods. The “rich White teenager” approach is now recommended in all neighborhoods.

Society’s attempt at decriminalizing drug use has run parallel with psychiatry’s recent attempts at reduced pathologizing of behaviors more prevalent in underprivileged groups and cultures. This runs the gamut, from avoiding the use of the term “agitated” because of its racial connotations, to advocating for reduced rates of schizophrenia diagnoses in Black males.¹ A diagnosis of substance use disorder carries with it similar troublesome societal implications. Decriminalization, legalization, provision of substances to the population, normalization, and other societal reforms will likely have an impact on the prevalence of substance use disorder diagnoses, which involve many criteria dependent on societal context.

It would be expected that criteria such as hazardous use, social problems, and attempts to quit will decrease as social acceptance increases. How might this affect access to substance use treatment, an already extremely limited resource?

Now, as forensic psychiatrists, we find ourselves adjudicating on the role of drugs at a time when society is wrestling with its attitude on the breadth of responsibility possessed by people who use drugs. In California, as in many other states, insanity laws exclude those who were insane as a result of drug use, as a testament to or possibly a remnant of how society feels about the role of choice and responsibility in the use of drugs. Yet another defendant who admits to drug use may on the contrary receive a much more lenient plea deal if willing to commit to sobriety. But in a never-ending maze of differing judgments and opinions, a less understanding district attorney may argue that the additional risk posed by the use of drugs and resulting impulsivity may actually warrant a heavier sentence.

In a recent attempt at atonement for our past punitive stance on drug users, we have found a desire to protect those who use drugs by punishing those who sell, at times forgetting that these populations are deeply intertwined. A recent law permits the federal charge of distribution of fentanyl resulting in death, which carries the mandatory minimum of 20 years in prison. Yet, if the user whom we are trying to protect by this law is also the one selling, what are we left with?

Fentanyl has been a particularly tragic development in the history of mankind and drug use. Substance use has rarely been so easily linked to accidental death. While many physicians can easily explain the safety of fentanyl when used as prescribed and in controlled settings, this is certainly not the case in the community. Measuring micrograms of fentanyl is outside the knowledge and capabilities of most drug dealers, who are not equipped with pharmacy-grade scales. Yet, as a result, they sell and customers buy quantities of fentanyl that range from homeopathically low to lethally high because of a mixture of negligence and deliberate indifference.

Another effort at atonement has been attempts at decriminalizing drug use and releasing many nonviolent offenders. This can, however, encourage bystanders to report more acts as crime rather than public intoxication, to ensure a police response when confronted by intoxicated people. Whereas previously an inebriated person who is homeless may have been called for and asked to seek shelter, they now get called on, and subsequently charged for, allegedly mumbling a threat by a frustrated bystander.

The release of offenders has its limits. Many placements on probation require sobriety and result in longer sentences for the use of substances that are otherwise decriminalized. The decriminalization and reexamination of substance use by society should widen the scope from simply considering crime to examining the use of drugs throughout the legal system and even beyond.

The DSM and psychiatry are not intended or equipped to adjudicate disputes on where the lines should be drawn between determinism and free will. We are knowledgeable of patients with substance use disorders, the effect of intoxicating substances, and the capacity of patients with substance use disorders to act in law-abiding ways. Our field can inform without simply advocating whether our patients should be punished. While society is currently struggling with how to apportion blame, psychiatry should resist the urge to impose medical solutions to social problems. Our solutions would almost certainly be grossly limited as we are still struggling to repent for lobotomizing “uppity” young women² and using electroshock therapy to disrupt perverse impulses in homosexual males.³ Social norms and political zeitgeists change over time while the psychological and physiological principles underlying our understanding of mental illness should, in theory, stay relatively constant. Psychiatry’s answers for societal ills do not usually improve with time but rather have a tendency to be humbling.
 

Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com.

Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research.

References

1.Medlock MM et al., eds. “Racism and Psychiatry: Contemporary Issues and Interventions” (New York: Springer, 2018).

2. Tone A and Koziol M. CMAJ. 2018:190(20):e624-5.

3. McGuire RJ and Vallance M. BMJ. 1964;1(5376):151-3.

Substance use disorders can be a thorny topic in residency because of our role as gatekeepers of mental hospitals during our training. Intoxicated patients often get dismissed as a burden and distraction, malingering their way into a comfortable place to regain sobriety. This is extremely prevalent, often constituting the majority of patients seen during an emergency department call.

A typical interview may elicit any or all symptoms in the DSM yet be best explained by substance use intoxication or withdrawal. Alcohol and other CNS depressants commonly cause feelings of sadness and/or suicidality. Methamphetamine and other CNS stimulants commonly cause symptoms of psychosis or mania, followed by feelings of sadness and/or suicidality.

Different EDs have different degrees of patience for individuals in the process of becoming sober. Some departments will pressure clinicians into quickly discarding those patients and often frown upon any attempt at providing solace by raising the concern of reinforcing maladaptive behavior. A mystery-meat sandwich of admirable blandness may be the extent of help offered. Some more fortunate patients also receive a juice box or even a taxi voucher in an especially generous ED. This is always against our better judgment, of course, as we are told those gestures encourage abuse.

Other EDs will permit patients to remain until sober, allowing for another evaluation without the influence of controlled substances. We are reminded of many conversations with patients with substance use disorders, where topics discussed included: 1. Recommendation to seek substance use services, which are often nonexistent or with wait lists spanning months; 2. Education on the role of mental health hospitals and how patients’ despair in the context of intoxication does not meet some scriptural criteria; 3. Pep talks aided by such previously described sandwiches and juice boxes to encourage a sobering patient to leave the facility of their own will.

Methamphetamine, heroin, and alcohol are rarely one-and-done endeavors. We sparingly see our patients for their very first ED visit while intoxicated or crashing. They know how the system runs and which ED will more readily allow them an overnight stay. The number of times they have been recommended for substance use treatment is beyond counting – they may have been on a wait list a handful of times. They are aware of our reluctance to provide inpatient psychiatric treatment for substance use, but it is worth a shot trying, anyway – sometimes they get lucky. Usually it is the pep talk, relief from hunger pangs, and daylight that get them out the doors – until next time.

It is under this context that many trainees become psychiatrists, a process that solidifies the separation between drug use and mental illness. Many graduate from residency practically equating substance use disorder with malingering or futility. This can take on a surreal quality as many localities have recently adopted particular forms or requirements like the dispensation of naloxone syringes to all patients with substance use disorders. While the desire and effort are noble, it may suggest to a patient presenting for help that society’s main interest is to avoid seeing them die rather than help with available resources for maintaining sobriety.

Therein lies the conundrum, a conundrum that spans psychiatry to society. The conundrum is our ambivalence between punishing the choice of drug use or healing the substance use disorder. Should we discharge the intoxicated patient as soon as they are safe to walk out, or should we make every effort possible to find long-term solutions? Where someone decides to draw the line often seems quite arbitrary.
 

The calculation becomes more complex

A defining moment appears to have been society’s reconsideration of its stance on substance use disorders when affluent White teenagers started dying in the suburbs from pain pills overdoses. Suddenly, those children needed and deserved treatment, not punishment. We find ourselves far away from a time when the loudest societal commentary on substance use entailed mothers advocating for harsher sentences against drunk drivers.

More recently, as psychiatry and large contingents of society have decided to take up the mantle of equity and social justice, we have begun to make progress in decriminalizing substance use in an effort to reverse systemic discrimination toward minority groups. This has taken many shapes, including drug legalization, criminal justice reform, and even the provision of clean substance use paraphernalia for safer use of IV drugs. Police reform has led to reluctance to arrest or press charges for nonviolent crimes and reduced police presence in minority neighborhoods. The “rich White teenager” approach is now recommended in all neighborhoods.

Society’s attempt at decriminalizing drug use has run parallel with psychiatry’s recent attempts at reduced pathologizing of behaviors more prevalent in underprivileged groups and cultures. This runs the gamut, from avoiding the use of the term “agitated” because of its racial connotations, to advocating for reduced rates of schizophrenia diagnoses in Black males.¹ A diagnosis of substance use disorder carries with it similar troublesome societal implications. Decriminalization, legalization, provision of substances to the population, normalization, and other societal reforms will likely have an impact on the prevalence of substance use disorder diagnoses, which involve many criteria dependent on societal context.

It would be expected that criteria such as hazardous use, social problems, and attempts to quit will decrease as social acceptance increases. How might this affect access to substance use treatment, an already extremely limited resource?

Now, as forensic psychiatrists, we find ourselves adjudicating on the role of drugs at a time when society is wrestling with its attitude on the breadth of responsibility possessed by people who use drugs. In California, as in many other states, insanity laws exclude those who were insane as a result of drug use, as a testament to or possibly a remnant of how society feels about the role of choice and responsibility in the use of drugs. Yet another defendant who admits to drug use may on the contrary receive a much more lenient plea deal if willing to commit to sobriety. But in a never-ending maze of differing judgments and opinions, a less understanding district attorney may argue that the additional risk posed by the use of drugs and resulting impulsivity may actually warrant a heavier sentence.

In a recent attempt at atonement for our past punitive stance on drug users, we have found a desire to protect those who use drugs by punishing those who sell, at times forgetting that these populations are deeply intertwined. A recent law permits the federal charge of distribution of fentanyl resulting in death, which carries the mandatory minimum of 20 years in prison. Yet, if the user whom we are trying to protect by this law is also the one selling, what are we left with?

Fentanyl has been a particularly tragic development in the history of mankind and drug use. Substance use has rarely been so easily linked to accidental death. While many physicians can easily explain the safety of fentanyl when used as prescribed and in controlled settings, this is certainly not the case in the community. Measuring micrograms of fentanyl is outside the knowledge and capabilities of most drug dealers, who are not equipped with pharmacy-grade scales. Yet, as a result, they sell and customers buy quantities of fentanyl that range from homeopathically low to lethally high because of a mixture of negligence and deliberate indifference.

Another effort at atonement has been attempts at decriminalizing drug use and releasing many nonviolent offenders. This can, however, encourage bystanders to report more acts as crime rather than public intoxication, to ensure a police response when confronted by intoxicated people. Whereas previously an inebriated person who is homeless may have been called for and asked to seek shelter, they now get called on, and subsequently charged for, allegedly mumbling a threat by a frustrated bystander.

The release of offenders has its limits. Many placements on probation require sobriety and result in longer sentences for the use of substances that are otherwise decriminalized. The decriminalization and reexamination of substance use by society should widen the scope from simply considering crime to examining the use of drugs throughout the legal system and even beyond.

The DSM and psychiatry are not intended or equipped to adjudicate disputes on where the lines should be drawn between determinism and free will. We are knowledgeable of patients with substance use disorders, the effect of intoxicating substances, and the capacity of patients with substance use disorders to act in law-abiding ways. Our field can inform without simply advocating whether our patients should be punished. While society is currently struggling with how to apportion blame, psychiatry should resist the urge to impose medical solutions to social problems. Our solutions would almost certainly be grossly limited as we are still struggling to repent for lobotomizing “uppity” young women² and using electroshock therapy to disrupt perverse impulses in homosexual males.³ Social norms and political zeitgeists change over time while the psychological and physiological principles underlying our understanding of mental illness should, in theory, stay relatively constant. Psychiatry’s answers for societal ills do not usually improve with time but rather have a tendency to be humbling.
 

Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com.

Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research.

References

1.Medlock MM et al., eds. “Racism and Psychiatry: Contemporary Issues and Interventions” (New York: Springer, 2018).

2. Tone A and Koziol M. CMAJ. 2018:190(20):e624-5.

3. McGuire RJ and Vallance M. BMJ. 1964;1(5376):151-3.

Substance use disorders can be a thorny topic in residency because of our role as gatekeepers of mental hospitals during our training. Intoxicated patients often get dismissed as a burden and distraction, malingering their way into a comfortable place to regain sobriety. This is extremely prevalent, often constituting the majority of patients seen during an emergency department call.

A typical interview may elicit any or all symptoms in the DSM yet be best explained by substance use intoxication or withdrawal. Alcohol and other CNS depressants commonly cause feelings of sadness and/or suicidality. Methamphetamine and other CNS stimulants commonly cause symptoms of psychosis or mania, followed by feelings of sadness and/or suicidality.

Different EDs have different degrees of patience for individuals in the process of becoming sober. Some departments will pressure clinicians into quickly discarding those patients and often frown upon any attempt at providing solace by raising the concern of reinforcing maladaptive behavior. A mystery-meat sandwich of admirable blandness may be the extent of help offered. Some more fortunate patients also receive a juice box or even a taxi voucher in an especially generous ED. This is always against our better judgment, of course, as we are told those gestures encourage abuse.

Other EDs will permit patients to remain until sober, allowing for another evaluation without the influence of controlled substances. We are reminded of many conversations with patients with substance use disorders, where topics discussed included: 1. Recommendation to seek substance use services, which are often nonexistent or with wait lists spanning months; 2. Education on the role of mental health hospitals and how patients’ despair in the context of intoxication does not meet some scriptural criteria; 3. Pep talks aided by such previously described sandwiches and juice boxes to encourage a sobering patient to leave the facility of their own will.

Methamphetamine, heroin, and alcohol are rarely one-and-done endeavors. We sparingly see our patients for their very first ED visit while intoxicated or crashing. They know how the system runs and which ED will more readily allow them an overnight stay. The number of times they have been recommended for substance use treatment is beyond counting – they may have been on a wait list a handful of times. They are aware of our reluctance to provide inpatient psychiatric treatment for substance use, but it is worth a shot trying, anyway – sometimes they get lucky. Usually it is the pep talk, relief from hunger pangs, and daylight that get them out the doors – until next time.

It is under this context that many trainees become psychiatrists, a process that solidifies the separation between drug use and mental illness. Many graduate from residency practically equating substance use disorder with malingering or futility. This can take on a surreal quality as many localities have recently adopted particular forms or requirements like the dispensation of naloxone syringes to all patients with substance use disorders. While the desire and effort are noble, it may suggest to a patient presenting for help that society’s main interest is to avoid seeing them die rather than help with available resources for maintaining sobriety.

Therein lies the conundrum, a conundrum that spans psychiatry to society. The conundrum is our ambivalence between punishing the choice of drug use or healing the substance use disorder. Should we discharge the intoxicated patient as soon as they are safe to walk out, or should we make every effort possible to find long-term solutions? Where someone decides to draw the line often seems quite arbitrary.
 

The calculation becomes more complex

A defining moment appears to have been society’s reconsideration of its stance on substance use disorders when affluent White teenagers started dying in the suburbs from pain pills overdoses. Suddenly, those children needed and deserved treatment, not punishment. We find ourselves far away from a time when the loudest societal commentary on substance use entailed mothers advocating for harsher sentences against drunk drivers.

More recently, as psychiatry and large contingents of society have decided to take up the mantle of equity and social justice, we have begun to make progress in decriminalizing substance use in an effort to reverse systemic discrimination toward minority groups. This has taken many shapes, including drug legalization, criminal justice reform, and even the provision of clean substance use paraphernalia for safer use of IV drugs. Police reform has led to reluctance to arrest or press charges for nonviolent crimes and reduced police presence in minority neighborhoods. The “rich White teenager” approach is now recommended in all neighborhoods.

Society’s attempt at decriminalizing drug use has run parallel with psychiatry’s recent attempts at reduced pathologizing of behaviors more prevalent in underprivileged groups and cultures. This runs the gamut, from avoiding the use of the term “agitated” because of its racial connotations, to advocating for reduced rates of schizophrenia diagnoses in Black males.¹ A diagnosis of substance use disorder carries with it similar troublesome societal implications. Decriminalization, legalization, provision of substances to the population, normalization, and other societal reforms will likely have an impact on the prevalence of substance use disorder diagnoses, which involve many criteria dependent on societal context.

It would be expected that criteria such as hazardous use, social problems, and attempts to quit will decrease as social acceptance increases. How might this affect access to substance use treatment, an already extremely limited resource?

Now, as forensic psychiatrists, we find ourselves adjudicating on the role of drugs at a time when society is wrestling with its attitude on the breadth of responsibility possessed by people who use drugs. In California, as in many other states, insanity laws exclude those who were insane as a result of drug use, as a testament to or possibly a remnant of how society feels about the role of choice and responsibility in the use of drugs. Yet another defendant who admits to drug use may on the contrary receive a much more lenient plea deal if willing to commit to sobriety. But in a never-ending maze of differing judgments and opinions, a less understanding district attorney may argue that the additional risk posed by the use of drugs and resulting impulsivity may actually warrant a heavier sentence.

In a recent attempt at atonement for our past punitive stance on drug users, we have found a desire to protect those who use drugs by punishing those who sell, at times forgetting that these populations are deeply intertwined. A recent law permits the federal charge of distribution of fentanyl resulting in death, which carries the mandatory minimum of 20 years in prison. Yet, if the user whom we are trying to protect by this law is also the one selling, what are we left with?

Fentanyl has been a particularly tragic development in the history of mankind and drug use. Substance use has rarely been so easily linked to accidental death. While many physicians can easily explain the safety of fentanyl when used as prescribed and in controlled settings, this is certainly not the case in the community. Measuring micrograms of fentanyl is outside the knowledge and capabilities of most drug dealers, who are not equipped with pharmacy-grade scales. Yet, as a result, they sell and customers buy quantities of fentanyl that range from homeopathically low to lethally high because of a mixture of negligence and deliberate indifference.

Another effort at atonement has been attempts at decriminalizing drug use and releasing many nonviolent offenders. This can, however, encourage bystanders to report more acts as crime rather than public intoxication, to ensure a police response when confronted by intoxicated people. Whereas previously an inebriated person who is homeless may have been called for and asked to seek shelter, they now get called on, and subsequently charged for, allegedly mumbling a threat by a frustrated bystander.

The release of offenders has its limits. Many placements on probation require sobriety and result in longer sentences for the use of substances that are otherwise decriminalized. The decriminalization and reexamination of substance use by society should widen the scope from simply considering crime to examining the use of drugs throughout the legal system and even beyond.

The DSM and psychiatry are not intended or equipped to adjudicate disputes on where the lines should be drawn between determinism and free will. We are knowledgeable of patients with substance use disorders, the effect of intoxicating substances, and the capacity of patients with substance use disorders to act in law-abiding ways. Our field can inform without simply advocating whether our patients should be punished. While society is currently struggling with how to apportion blame, psychiatry should resist the urge to impose medical solutions to social problems. Our solutions would almost certainly be grossly limited as we are still struggling to repent for lobotomizing “uppity” young women² and using electroshock therapy to disrupt perverse impulses in homosexual males.³ Social norms and political zeitgeists change over time while the psychological and physiological principles underlying our understanding of mental illness should, in theory, stay relatively constant. Psychiatry’s answers for societal ills do not usually improve with time but rather have a tendency to be humbling.
 

Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com.

Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research.

References

1.Medlock MM et al., eds. “Racism and Psychiatry: Contemporary Issues and Interventions” (New York: Springer, 2018).

2. Tone A and Koziol M. CMAJ. 2018:190(20):e624-5.

3. McGuire RJ and Vallance M. BMJ. 1964;1(5376):151-3.

In June, Gerald Bock, MD, a dermatologist in central California, instituted a new office policy: He would not be seeing any more patients who remain unvaccinated against COVID-19 in his practice.

peterschreiber_media/iStock/Getty Images

“[It is] the height of self-centered and irresponsible behavior,” he told me. “People who come in unvaccinated, when vaccination is widely available, are stating that their personal preferences are more important than their health, and are more important than any risk that they may expose their friends and family to, and also to any risk they might present to my staff and me. We have gone to considerable effort and expense to diminish any risk that visiting our office might entail. I see no reason why we should tolerate this.”

Other doctors appear to be following in his footsteps. There is no question that physicians have the right to choose their patients, just as patients are free to choose their doctors, but is it ethical to treat unvaccinated patients differently than their vaccinated counterparts? That is a complicated question without a clear answer. In a statement on whether physicians can decline unvaccinated patients, the American Medical Association continues to maintain that “in general” a physician may not “ethically turn a patient away based solely on the individual’s infectious disease status,” but does concede that “the decision to accept or decline a patient must balance the urgency of the individual patient’s need; the risk the patient may pose to other patients in the physician’s practice; and the need for the physician and staff, to be available to provide care in the future.”

Medical ethics experts have offered varying opinions. Daniel Wikler, PhD, professor of ethics and population health at the Harvard School of Public Health, Boston, wrote in an op-ed in the Washington Post that “ignorance or other personal failing” should not be factors in the evaluation of patients for health care. He argues that “doctors and hospitals are not in the blame and punishment business. Nor should they be. That doctors treat sinners and responsible citizens alike is a noble tradition.”

Timothy Hoff, professor of management, healthcare systems, and health policy at Northeastern University, Boston, maintains that, in nonemergency situations, physicians are legally able to refuse patients for a variety of reasons, provided they are not doing so because of some aspect of the patient’s race, gender, sexuality, or religion. However, in the same Northeastern University news release,Robert Baginski, MD, the director of interdisciplinary affairs for the department of medical sciences at Northeastern, cautions that it is vital for health authorities to continue urging the public to get vaccinated, but not at the expense of care.

Arthur L. Caplan, PhD, the head of the division of medical ethics at New York University, said in a Medscape commentary, that the decision to refuse to see patients who can vaccinate, but choose not to, is justifiable. “If you’re trying to protect yourself, your staff, or other patients, I think you do have the right to not take on somebody who won’t vaccinate,” he writes. “This is somewhat similar to when pediatricians do not accept a family if they won’t give their kids the state-required shots to go to school. That’s been happening for many years now.

“I also think it is morally justified if they won’t take your advice,” he continues. “If they won’t follow what you think is the best healthcare for them [such as getting vaccinated], there’s not much point in building that relationship.”

The situation is different in ED and hospital settings, however. “It’s a little harder to use unvaccinated status when someone really is at death’s door,” Dr. Caplan pointed out. “When someone comes in very sick, or whatever the reason, I think we have to take care of them ethically, and legally we’re bound to get them stable in the emergency room. I do think different rules apply there.”

In the end, every private practitioner will have to make his or her own decision on this question. Dr. Bock feels he made the right one. “Since instituting the policy, we have written 55 refund checks for people who had paid for a series of cosmetic procedures. We have no idea how many people were deterred from making appointments. We’ve had several negative online reviews and one woman who wrote a letter to the Medical Board of California complaining that we were discriminating against her,” he said. He added, however, that “we’ve also had several patients who commented favorably about the policy. I have no regrets about instituting the policy, and would do it again.”

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

In June, Gerald Bock, MD, a dermatologist in central California, instituted a new office policy: He would not be seeing any more patients who remain unvaccinated against COVID-19 in his practice.

peterschreiber_media/iStock/Getty Images

“[It is] the height of self-centered and irresponsible behavior,” he told me. “People who come in unvaccinated, when vaccination is widely available, are stating that their personal preferences are more important than their health, and are more important than any risk that they may expose their friends and family to, and also to any risk they might present to my staff and me. We have gone to considerable effort and expense to diminish any risk that visiting our office might entail. I see no reason why we should tolerate this.”

Other doctors appear to be following in his footsteps. There is no question that physicians have the right to choose their patients, just as patients are free to choose their doctors, but is it ethical to treat unvaccinated patients differently than their vaccinated counterparts? That is a complicated question without a clear answer. In a statement on whether physicians can decline unvaccinated patients, the American Medical Association continues to maintain that “in general” a physician may not “ethically turn a patient away based solely on the individual’s infectious disease status,” but does concede that “the decision to accept or decline a patient must balance the urgency of the individual patient’s need; the risk the patient may pose to other patients in the physician’s practice; and the need for the physician and staff, to be available to provide care in the future.”

Medical ethics experts have offered varying opinions. Daniel Wikler, PhD, professor of ethics and population health at the Harvard School of Public Health, Boston, wrote in an op-ed in the Washington Post that “ignorance or other personal failing” should not be factors in the evaluation of patients for health care. He argues that “doctors and hospitals are not in the blame and punishment business. Nor should they be. That doctors treat sinners and responsible citizens alike is a noble tradition.”

Timothy Hoff, professor of management, healthcare systems, and health policy at Northeastern University, Boston, maintains that, in nonemergency situations, physicians are legally able to refuse patients for a variety of reasons, provided they are not doing so because of some aspect of the patient’s race, gender, sexuality, or religion. However, in the same Northeastern University news release,Robert Baginski, MD, the director of interdisciplinary affairs for the department of medical sciences at Northeastern, cautions that it is vital for health authorities to continue urging the public to get vaccinated, but not at the expense of care.

Arthur L. Caplan, PhD, the head of the division of medical ethics at New York University, said in a Medscape commentary, that the decision to refuse to see patients who can vaccinate, but choose not to, is justifiable. “If you’re trying to protect yourself, your staff, or other patients, I think you do have the right to not take on somebody who won’t vaccinate,” he writes. “This is somewhat similar to when pediatricians do not accept a family if they won’t give their kids the state-required shots to go to school. That’s been happening for many years now.

“I also think it is morally justified if they won’t take your advice,” he continues. “If they won’t follow what you think is the best healthcare for them [such as getting vaccinated], there’s not much point in building that relationship.”

The situation is different in ED and hospital settings, however. “It’s a little harder to use unvaccinated status when someone really is at death’s door,” Dr. Caplan pointed out. “When someone comes in very sick, or whatever the reason, I think we have to take care of them ethically, and legally we’re bound to get them stable in the emergency room. I do think different rules apply there.”

In the end, every private practitioner will have to make his or her own decision on this question. Dr. Bock feels he made the right one. “Since instituting the policy, we have written 55 refund checks for people who had paid for a series of cosmetic procedures. We have no idea how many people were deterred from making appointments. We’ve had several negative online reviews and one woman who wrote a letter to the Medical Board of California complaining that we were discriminating against her,” he said. He added, however, that “we’ve also had several patients who commented favorably about the policy. I have no regrets about instituting the policy, and would do it again.”

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

In June, Gerald Bock, MD, a dermatologist in central California, instituted a new office policy: He would not be seeing any more patients who remain unvaccinated against COVID-19 in his practice.

peterschreiber_media/iStock/Getty Images

“[It is] the height of self-centered and irresponsible behavior,” he told me. “People who come in unvaccinated, when vaccination is widely available, are stating that their personal preferences are more important than their health, and are more important than any risk that they may expose their friends and family to, and also to any risk they might present to my staff and me. We have gone to considerable effort and expense to diminish any risk that visiting our office might entail. I see no reason why we should tolerate this.”

Other doctors appear to be following in his footsteps. There is no question that physicians have the right to choose their patients, just as patients are free to choose their doctors, but is it ethical to treat unvaccinated patients differently than their vaccinated counterparts? That is a complicated question without a clear answer. In a statement on whether physicians can decline unvaccinated patients, the American Medical Association continues to maintain that “in general” a physician may not “ethically turn a patient away based solely on the individual’s infectious disease status,” but does concede that “the decision to accept or decline a patient must balance the urgency of the individual patient’s need; the risk the patient may pose to other patients in the physician’s practice; and the need for the physician and staff, to be available to provide care in the future.”

Medical ethics experts have offered varying opinions. Daniel Wikler, PhD, professor of ethics and population health at the Harvard School of Public Health, Boston, wrote in an op-ed in the Washington Post that “ignorance or other personal failing” should not be factors in the evaluation of patients for health care. He argues that “doctors and hospitals are not in the blame and punishment business. Nor should they be. That doctors treat sinners and responsible citizens alike is a noble tradition.”

Timothy Hoff, professor of management, healthcare systems, and health policy at Northeastern University, Boston, maintains that, in nonemergency situations, physicians are legally able to refuse patients for a variety of reasons, provided they are not doing so because of some aspect of the patient’s race, gender, sexuality, or religion. However, in the same Northeastern University news release,Robert Baginski, MD, the director of interdisciplinary affairs for the department of medical sciences at Northeastern, cautions that it is vital for health authorities to continue urging the public to get vaccinated, but not at the expense of care.

Arthur L. Caplan, PhD, the head of the division of medical ethics at New York University, said in a Medscape commentary, that the decision to refuse to see patients who can vaccinate, but choose not to, is justifiable. “If you’re trying to protect yourself, your staff, or other patients, I think you do have the right to not take on somebody who won’t vaccinate,” he writes. “This is somewhat similar to when pediatricians do not accept a family if they won’t give their kids the state-required shots to go to school. That’s been happening for many years now.

“I also think it is morally justified if they won’t take your advice,” he continues. “If they won’t follow what you think is the best healthcare for them [such as getting vaccinated], there’s not much point in building that relationship.”

The situation is different in ED and hospital settings, however. “It’s a little harder to use unvaccinated status when someone really is at death’s door,” Dr. Caplan pointed out. “When someone comes in very sick, or whatever the reason, I think we have to take care of them ethically, and legally we’re bound to get them stable in the emergency room. I do think different rules apply there.”

In the end, every private practitioner will have to make his or her own decision on this question. Dr. Bock feels he made the right one. “Since instituting the policy, we have written 55 refund checks for people who had paid for a series of cosmetic procedures. We have no idea how many people were deterred from making appointments. We’ve had several negative online reviews and one woman who wrote a letter to the Medical Board of California complaining that we were discriminating against her,” he said. He added, however, that “we’ve also had several patients who commented favorably about the policy. I have no regrets about instituting the policy, and would do it again.”

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

Given that approximately 9.5% of youth aged 13-17 in the United States identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer (LGBTQ),¹ it is likely that a general pediatrician or pediatric subspecialist is going to encounter at least one LGBTQ patient during the course of the average workweek. By having an easy way to identify these patients and store this data in a user-friendly manner, you can ensure that your practice is LGBTQ friendly and an affirming environment for all sexual- and gender-minority youth.

One way to do this is to look over any paper or electronic forms your practice uses and make sure that they provide patients and families a range of options to identify themselves. For example, you could provide more options for gender, other than male or female, including a nonbinary or “other” (with a free text line) option. This allows your patients to give you an accurate description of what their affirmed gender is. Instead of having a space for mother’s name and father’s name, you could list these fields as “parent/guardian #1” and “parent/guardian #2.” These labels allow for more inclusivity and to reflect the diverse makeup of modern families. Providing a space for a patient to put the name and pronouns that they use allows your staff to make sure that you are calling a patient by the correct name and using the correct pronouns.

Within your EMR, there may be editable fields that allow for you or your staff to list the patient’s affirmed name and pronouns. Making this small change allows any staff member who accesses the chart to have that information displayed correctly for them and reduces the chances of staff misgendering or dead-naming a patient. Underscoring the importance of this, Sequeira et al. found that in a sample of youth from a gender clinic, only 9% of those adolescents reported that they were asked their name/pronouns outside of the gender clinic.² If those fields are not there, you may check with your IT staff or your EMR vendor to see if these fields may be added in. However, staff needs to make sure that they check with the child/adolescent first to discern with whom the patient has discussed their gender identity. If you were to put a patient’s affirmed name into the chart and then call the patient by that name in front of the parent/guardian, the parent/guardian may look at you quizzically about why you are calling their child by that name. This could then cause an uncomfortable conversation in the exam room or result in harm to the patient after the visit.

It is not just good clinical practice to ensure that you use a patient’s affirmed name and pronouns. Russell et al. looked at the relationship between depressive symptoms and suicidal ideation and whether an adolescent’s name/pronouns were used in the context of their home, school, work, and/or friend group. They found that use of an adolescent’s affirmed name in at least one of these contexts was associated with a decrease in depressive symptoms and a 29% decrease in suicidal ideation.³ Therefore, the use of an adolescent’s affirmed name and pronouns in your office contributes to the overall mental well-being of your patients.

Fortunately, there are many guides to help you and your practice be successful at implementing some of these changes. The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Health Access Project put together its “Community Standards of Practice for the Provision of Quality Health Care Services to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Clients” to aid practices in developing environments that are LGBTQ affirming. The National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center, a part of the Fenway Institute, has a series of learning modules that you and your staff can view for interactive training and tips for best practices. These resources offer pediatricians and their practices free resources to improve their policies and procedures. By instituting these small changes, you can ensure that your practice continues to be an affirming environment for your LGBTQ children and adolescents.
 

Dr. Cooper is assistant professor of pediatrics at University of Texas Southwestern, Dallas, and an adolescent medicine specialist at Children’s Medical Center Dallas.

References

1. Conran KJ. LGBT youth population in the United States, UCLA School of Law, Williams Institute, 2020 Sep.

2. Sequeira GM et al. Affirming transgender youths’ names and pronouns in the electronic medical record. JAMA Pediatr. 2020;174(5):501-3.

3. Russell ST et al. Chosen name use is linked to reduced depressive symptoms, suicidal ideation, and suicidal behavior among transgender youth. J Adolesc Health. 2018;63(4):503-5.

Given that approximately 9.5% of youth aged 13-17 in the United States identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer (LGBTQ),¹ it is likely that a general pediatrician or pediatric subspecialist is going to encounter at least one LGBTQ patient during the course of the average workweek. By having an easy way to identify these patients and store this data in a user-friendly manner, you can ensure that your practice is LGBTQ friendly and an affirming environment for all sexual- and gender-minority youth.

One way to do this is to look over any paper or electronic forms your practice uses and make sure that they provide patients and families a range of options to identify themselves. For example, you could provide more options for gender, other than male or female, including a nonbinary or “other” (with a free text line) option. This allows your patients to give you an accurate description of what their affirmed gender is. Instead of having a space for mother’s name and father’s name, you could list these fields as “parent/guardian #1” and “parent/guardian #2.” These labels allow for more inclusivity and to reflect the diverse makeup of modern families. Providing a space for a patient to put the name and pronouns that they use allows your staff to make sure that you are calling a patient by the correct name and using the correct pronouns.

Within your EMR, there may be editable fields that allow for you or your staff to list the patient’s affirmed name and pronouns. Making this small change allows any staff member who accesses the chart to have that information displayed correctly for them and reduces the chances of staff misgendering or dead-naming a patient. Underscoring the importance of this, Sequeira et al. found that in a sample of youth from a gender clinic, only 9% of those adolescents reported that they were asked their name/pronouns outside of the gender clinic.² If those fields are not there, you may check with your IT staff or your EMR vendor to see if these fields may be added in. However, staff needs to make sure that they check with the child/adolescent first to discern with whom the patient has discussed their gender identity. If you were to put a patient’s affirmed name into the chart and then call the patient by that name in front of the parent/guardian, the parent/guardian may look at you quizzically about why you are calling their child by that name. This could then cause an uncomfortable conversation in the exam room or result in harm to the patient after the visit.

It is not just good clinical practice to ensure that you use a patient’s affirmed name and pronouns. Russell et al. looked at the relationship between depressive symptoms and suicidal ideation and whether an adolescent’s name/pronouns were used in the context of their home, school, work, and/or friend group. They found that use of an adolescent’s affirmed name in at least one of these contexts was associated with a decrease in depressive symptoms and a 29% decrease in suicidal ideation.³ Therefore, the use of an adolescent’s affirmed name and pronouns in your office contributes to the overall mental well-being of your patients.

Fortunately, there are many guides to help you and your practice be successful at implementing some of these changes. The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Health Access Project put together its “Community Standards of Practice for the Provision of Quality Health Care Services to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Clients” to aid practices in developing environments that are LGBTQ affirming. The National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center, a part of the Fenway Institute, has a series of learning modules that you and your staff can view for interactive training and tips for best practices. These resources offer pediatricians and their practices free resources to improve their policies and procedures. By instituting these small changes, you can ensure that your practice continues to be an affirming environment for your LGBTQ children and adolescents.
 

Dr. Cooper is assistant professor of pediatrics at University of Texas Southwestern, Dallas, and an adolescent medicine specialist at Children’s Medical Center Dallas.

References

1. Conran KJ. LGBT youth population in the United States, UCLA School of Law, Williams Institute, 2020 Sep.

2. Sequeira GM et al. Affirming transgender youths’ names and pronouns in the electronic medical record. JAMA Pediatr. 2020;174(5):501-3.

3. Russell ST et al. Chosen name use is linked to reduced depressive symptoms, suicidal ideation, and suicidal behavior among transgender youth. J Adolesc Health. 2018;63(4):503-5.

Given that approximately 9.5% of youth aged 13-17 in the United States identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer (LGBTQ),¹ it is likely that a general pediatrician or pediatric subspecialist is going to encounter at least one LGBTQ patient during the course of the average workweek. By having an easy way to identify these patients and store this data in a user-friendly manner, you can ensure that your practice is LGBTQ friendly and an affirming environment for all sexual- and gender-minority youth.

One way to do this is to look over any paper or electronic forms your practice uses and make sure that they provide patients and families a range of options to identify themselves. For example, you could provide more options for gender, other than male or female, including a nonbinary or “other” (with a free text line) option. This allows your patients to give you an accurate description of what their affirmed gender is. Instead of having a space for mother’s name and father’s name, you could list these fields as “parent/guardian #1” and “parent/guardian #2.” These labels allow for more inclusivity and to reflect the diverse makeup of modern families. Providing a space for a patient to put the name and pronouns that they use allows your staff to make sure that you are calling a patient by the correct name and using the correct pronouns.

Within your EMR, there may be editable fields that allow for you or your staff to list the patient’s affirmed name and pronouns. Making this small change allows any staff member who accesses the chart to have that information displayed correctly for them and reduces the chances of staff misgendering or dead-naming a patient. Underscoring the importance of this, Sequeira et al. found that in a sample of youth from a gender clinic, only 9% of those adolescents reported that they were asked their name/pronouns outside of the gender clinic.² If those fields are not there, you may check with your IT staff or your EMR vendor to see if these fields may be added in. However, staff needs to make sure that they check with the child/adolescent first to discern with whom the patient has discussed their gender identity. If you were to put a patient’s affirmed name into the chart and then call the patient by that name in front of the parent/guardian, the parent/guardian may look at you quizzically about why you are calling their child by that name. This could then cause an uncomfortable conversation in the exam room or result in harm to the patient after the visit.

It is not just good clinical practice to ensure that you use a patient’s affirmed name and pronouns. Russell et al. looked at the relationship between depressive symptoms and suicidal ideation and whether an adolescent’s name/pronouns were used in the context of their home, school, work, and/or friend group. They found that use of an adolescent’s affirmed name in at least one of these contexts was associated with a decrease in depressive symptoms and a 29% decrease in suicidal ideation.³ Therefore, the use of an adolescent’s affirmed name and pronouns in your office contributes to the overall mental well-being of your patients.

Fortunately, there are many guides to help you and your practice be successful at implementing some of these changes. The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Health Access Project put together its “Community Standards of Practice for the Provision of Quality Health Care Services to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Clients” to aid practices in developing environments that are LGBTQ affirming. The National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center, a part of the Fenway Institute, has a series of learning modules that you and your staff can view for interactive training and tips for best practices. These resources offer pediatricians and their practices free resources to improve their policies and procedures. By instituting these small changes, you can ensure that your practice continues to be an affirming environment for your LGBTQ children and adolescents.
 

Dr. Cooper is assistant professor of pediatrics at University of Texas Southwestern, Dallas, and an adolescent medicine specialist at Children’s Medical Center Dallas.

References

1. Conran KJ. LGBT youth population in the United States, UCLA School of Law, Williams Institute, 2020 Sep.

2. Sequeira GM et al. Affirming transgender youths’ names and pronouns in the electronic medical record. JAMA Pediatr. 2020;174(5):501-3.

3. Russell ST et al. Chosen name use is linked to reduced depressive symptoms, suicidal ideation, and suicidal behavior among transgender youth. J Adolesc Health. 2018;63(4):503-5.

The first patient of the afternoon is a 4-month-old in for his health maintenance visit. You’ve known his 20-year-old mother since she was a toddler. This infant has a 2-year-old sister. Also in the exam room is a young man you don’t recognize whom the mother introduces as Jason, her new boyfriend. He never makes eye contact and despite your best efforts you can’t get him to engage.

At the child’s next visit you are relieved to see the 6-month-old is alive and well and learn that your former patient and her two children have moved back in with her parents and Jason is no longer in the picture.

You don’t have to have been doing pediatrics very long to have learned that a “family” that includes an infant and a young adult male who is probably not the father is an environment in which the infant’s health and well-being is at significant risk. It is a situation in which child abuse even to the point of infanticide should be waving a red flag in your face.

Infanticide occurs in many animal species including our own. As abhorrent we may find the act, it occurs often enough to be, if not normal, at least not unexpected in certain circumstances. Theories abound as to what advantage the act of infanticide might convey to the success of a species. However, little if anything is known about any possible mechanisms that would allow it to occur.

Recently, a professor of molecular and cellular biology at Harvard University discovered a specific set of neurons in the mouse brain that controls aggressive behavior toward infants (Biological triggers for infant abuse, by Juan Siliezar, The Harvard Gazette, Sept 27, 2021). This same set of neurons also appears to trigger avoidance and neglect behaviors as well.

Research in other animal species has found that these antiparental behaviors occur in both virgins and sexually mature males who are strangers to the group. Interestingly, the behaviors switch off once individuals have their own offspring or have had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with infants. Not surprisingly, other studies have found that in some species environmental stress such as food shortage or threats of predation have triggered females to attack or ignore their offspring.

I think it is safe to assume a similar collection of neurons controlling aggressive behavior also exists in humans. One can imagine some well-read defense attorney dredging up this study and claiming that because his client had not yet fathered a child of his own that it was his nervous system’s normal response that made him toss his girlfriend’s baby against the wall.

The lead author of the study intends to study this collection of neurons in more depth to discover more about the process. It is conceivable that with more information her initial findings may help in the development of treatment and specific prevention strategies. Until that happens, we must rely on our intuition and keep our antennae tuned and alert for high-risk scenarios like the one I described at the opening of this letter.

We are left with leaning heavily on our community social work networks to keep close tabs on these high-risk families, offering both financial and emotional support. Parenting classes may be helpful, but some of this research leads me to suspect that immersing these young parents-to-be in hands-on child care situations might provide the best protection we can offer.
 

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

The first patient of the afternoon is a 4-month-old in for his health maintenance visit. You’ve known his 20-year-old mother since she was a toddler. This infant has a 2-year-old sister. Also in the exam room is a young man you don’t recognize whom the mother introduces as Jason, her new boyfriend. He never makes eye contact and despite your best efforts you can’t get him to engage.

At the child’s next visit you are relieved to see the 6-month-old is alive and well and learn that your former patient and her two children have moved back in with her parents and Jason is no longer in the picture.

You don’t have to have been doing pediatrics very long to have learned that a “family” that includes an infant and a young adult male who is probably not the father is an environment in which the infant’s health and well-being is at significant risk. It is a situation in which child abuse even to the point of infanticide should be waving a red flag in your face.

Infanticide occurs in many animal species including our own. As abhorrent we may find the act, it occurs often enough to be, if not normal, at least not unexpected in certain circumstances. Theories abound as to what advantage the act of infanticide might convey to the success of a species. However, little if anything is known about any possible mechanisms that would allow it to occur.

Recently, a professor of molecular and cellular biology at Harvard University discovered a specific set of neurons in the mouse brain that controls aggressive behavior toward infants (Biological triggers for infant abuse, by Juan Siliezar, The Harvard Gazette, Sept 27, 2021). This same set of neurons also appears to trigger avoidance and neglect behaviors as well.

Research in other animal species has found that these antiparental behaviors occur in both virgins and sexually mature males who are strangers to the group. Interestingly, the behaviors switch off once individuals have their own offspring or have had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with infants. Not surprisingly, other studies have found that in some species environmental stress such as food shortage or threats of predation have triggered females to attack or ignore their offspring.

I think it is safe to assume a similar collection of neurons controlling aggressive behavior also exists in humans. One can imagine some well-read defense attorney dredging up this study and claiming that because his client had not yet fathered a child of his own that it was his nervous system’s normal response that made him toss his girlfriend’s baby against the wall.

The lead author of the study intends to study this collection of neurons in more depth to discover more about the process. It is conceivable that with more information her initial findings may help in the development of treatment and specific prevention strategies. Until that happens, we must rely on our intuition and keep our antennae tuned and alert for high-risk scenarios like the one I described at the opening of this letter.

We are left with leaning heavily on our community social work networks to keep close tabs on these high-risk families, offering both financial and emotional support. Parenting classes may be helpful, but some of this research leads me to suspect that immersing these young parents-to-be in hands-on child care situations might provide the best protection we can offer.
 

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

The first patient of the afternoon is a 4-month-old in for his health maintenance visit. You’ve known his 20-year-old mother since she was a toddler. This infant has a 2-year-old sister. Also in the exam room is a young man you don’t recognize whom the mother introduces as Jason, her new boyfriend. He never makes eye contact and despite your best efforts you can’t get him to engage.

At the child’s next visit you are relieved to see the 6-month-old is alive and well and learn that your former patient and her two children have moved back in with her parents and Jason is no longer in the picture.

You don’t have to have been doing pediatrics very long to have learned that a “family” that includes an infant and a young adult male who is probably not the father is an environment in which the infant’s health and well-being is at significant risk. It is a situation in which child abuse even to the point of infanticide should be waving a red flag in your face.

Infanticide occurs in many animal species including our own. As abhorrent we may find the act, it occurs often enough to be, if not normal, at least not unexpected in certain circumstances. Theories abound as to what advantage the act of infanticide might convey to the success of a species. However, little if anything is known about any possible mechanisms that would allow it to occur.

Recently, a professor of molecular and cellular biology at Harvard University discovered a specific set of neurons in the mouse brain that controls aggressive behavior toward infants (Biological triggers for infant abuse, by Juan Siliezar, The Harvard Gazette, Sept 27, 2021). This same set of neurons also appears to trigger avoidance and neglect behaviors as well.

Research in other animal species has found that these antiparental behaviors occur in both virgins and sexually mature males who are strangers to the group. Interestingly, the behaviors switch off once individuals have their own offspring or have had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with infants. Not surprisingly, other studies have found that in some species environmental stress such as food shortage or threats of predation have triggered females to attack or ignore their offspring.

I think it is safe to assume a similar collection of neurons controlling aggressive behavior also exists in humans. One can imagine some well-read defense attorney dredging up this study and claiming that because his client had not yet fathered a child of his own that it was his nervous system’s normal response that made him toss his girlfriend’s baby against the wall.

The lead author of the study intends to study this collection of neurons in more depth to discover more about the process. It is conceivable that with more information her initial findings may help in the development of treatment and specific prevention strategies. Until that happens, we must rely on our intuition and keep our antennae tuned and alert for high-risk scenarios like the one I described at the opening of this letter.

We are left with leaning heavily on our community social work networks to keep close tabs on these high-risk families, offering both financial and emotional support. Parenting classes may be helpful, but some of this research leads me to suspect that immersing these young parents-to-be in hands-on child care situations might provide the best protection we can offer.
 

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

The COVID-19 pandemic has markedly changed the dermatology residency application process. As medical students head into this application cycle, the impacts of systemic racism and deeply rooted structural barriers continue to be exacerbated for students who identify as an underrepresented minority (URM) in medicine—historically defined as those who self-identify as Hispanic or Latinx; Black or African American; American Indian or Alaska Native; or Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. The Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC) defines URMs as racial and ethnic populations that are underrepresented in medicine relative to their numbers in the general population.¹ Although these groups account for approximately 34% of the population of the United States, they constitute only 11% of the country’s physician workforce.^2,3

Of the total physician workforce in the United States, Black and African American physicians account for 5% of practicing physicians; Hispanic physicians, 5.8%; American Indian and Alaska Native physicians, 0.3%; and Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander physicians, 0.1%.² In competitive medical specialties, the disproportionality of these numbers compared to our current demographics in the United States as shown above is even more staggering. In 2018, for example, 10% of practicing dermatologists identified as female URM physicians; 6%, as male URM physicians.² In this article, we discuss some of the challenges and considerations for URM students applying to dermatology residency in the era of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Barriers for URM Students in Dermatology

Multiple studies have attempted to identify some of the barriers faced by URM students in medicine that might explain the lack of diversity in competitive specialties. Vasquez and colleagues⁴ identified 4 major factors that play a role in dermatology: lack of equitable resources, lack of support, financial limitations, and the lack of group identity. More than half of URM students surveyed (1) identified lack of support as a barrier and (2) reported having been encouraged to seek a specialty more reflective of their community.⁴

Soliman et al⁵ reported that URM barriers in dermatology extend to include lack of diversity in the field, socioeconomic factors, lack of mentorship, and a negative perception of minority students by residency programs. Dermatology is the second least diverse specialty in medicine after orthopedic surgery, which, in and of itself, might further discourage URM students from applying to dermatology.⁵

With the minimal exposure that URM students have to the field of dermatology, the lack of pipeline programs, and reports that URMs often are encouraged to pursue primary care, the current diversity deficiency in dermatology comes as no surprise. In addition, the substantial disadvantage for URM students is perpetuated by the traditional highly selective process that favors grades, board scores, and honor society status over holistic assessment of the individual student and their unique experiences and potential for contribution.

Looking Beyond Test Scores

The US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) traditionally has been used to select dermatology residency applicants, with high cutoff scores often excluding outstanding URM students. Research has suggested that the use of USMLE examination test scores for residency recruitment lacks validity because it has poor predictability of residency performance.⁶ Although the USMLE Step 1 examination is transitioning to pass/fail scoring, applicants for the next cycle will still have a 3-digit numerical score.

We strongly recommend that dermatology programs transition from emphasizing scores of residency candidates to reviewing each candidate holistically. The AAMC defines “holistic review” as a “flexible, individualized way of assessing an applicant’s capabilities, by which balanced consideration is given to experiences, attributes, competencies, and academic or scholarly metrics and, when considered in combination, how the individual might contribute value to the institution’s mission.”⁷ Furthermore, we recommend that dermatology residency programs have multiple faculty members review each application, including a representative of the diversity, inclusion, and equity committee.

 

 

Applying to Residency in the COVID-19 Virtual Environment

In the COVID-19 era, dermatology externship opportunities that would have allowed URM students to work directly with potential residency programs, showcase their abilities, and network have been limited. Virtual residency interviews could make it more challenging to evaluate candidates, especially URM students from less prestigious programs or unusual socioeconomic backgrounds, or with lower board scores. In addition, virtual interviews can more easily become one-dimensional, depriving URM students of the opportunity to gauge their personal fit in a specific dermatology residency program and its community. Questions and concerns of URM students might include: Will I be appropriately supported and mentored? Will my cultural preferences, religion, sexual preference, hairstyle, and beliefs be accepted? Can I advocate for minorities and support antiracism and diversity and inclusion initiatives? To that end, we recommend that dermatology programs continue to host virtual meet-and-greet events for potential students to meet faculty and learn more about the program. In addition, programs should consider having current residents interact virtually with candidates to allow students to better understand the culture of the department and residents’ experiences as trainees in such an environment. For URM students, this is highly important because diversity, inclusion, and antiracism policies and initiatives might not be explicitly available on the institution’s website or residency information page.

Organizations Championing Diversity

Recently, multiple dermatology societies and organizations have been emphasizing the need for diversity and inclusion as well as promoting holistic application review. The American Academy of Dermatology pioneered the Diversity Champion Workshop in 2019 and continues to offer the Diversity Mentorship program, connecting URM students to mentors nationally. The Skin of Color Society offers yearly grants and awards to medical students to develop mentorship and research, and recently hosted webinars to guide medical students and residency programs on diversity and inclusion, residency application and review, and COVID-19 virtual interviews. Other national societies, such as the Student National Medical Association and Latino Medical Student Association, have been promoting workshops and interview mentoring for URM students, including dermatology-specific events. Although it is estimated that more than 90% of medical schools in the United States already perform holistic application review and that such review has been adopted by many dermatology programs nationwide, data regarding dermatology residency programs’ implementation of holistic application review are lacking.⁸

In addition, we encourage continuation of the proposed coordinated interview invite release from the Association of Professors of Dermatology, which was implemented in the 2020-2021 cycle. In light of the recent AAMC letter⁹ on the maldistribution of interview invitations to highest-tier applicants, coordination of interview release dates and other similar initiatives to prevent programs from offering more invites than their available slots and improve transparency about interview days are needed. Furthermore, continuing to offer optional virtual interviews for applicants in future cycles could make the process less cost-prohibitive for many URM students.^4,5

Final Thoughts

Dermatology residency programs must intentionally guard against falling back to traditional standards of assessment as the only means of student evaluation, especially in this virtual era. It is our responsibility to remove artificial barriers that continue to stall progress in diversity, inclusion, equity, and belonging in dermatology.

The COVID-19 pandemic has markedly changed the dermatology residency application process. As medical students head into this application cycle, the impacts of systemic racism and deeply rooted structural barriers continue to be exacerbated for students who identify as an underrepresented minority (URM) in medicine—historically defined as those who self-identify as Hispanic or Latinx; Black or African American; American Indian or Alaska Native; or Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. The Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC) defines URMs as racial and ethnic populations that are underrepresented in medicine relative to their numbers in the general population.¹ Although these groups account for approximately 34% of the population of the United States, they constitute only 11% of the country’s physician workforce.^2,3

Of the total physician workforce in the United States, Black and African American physicians account for 5% of practicing physicians; Hispanic physicians, 5.8%; American Indian and Alaska Native physicians, 0.3%; and Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander physicians, 0.1%.² In competitive medical specialties, the disproportionality of these numbers compared to our current demographics in the United States as shown above is even more staggering. In 2018, for example, 10% of practicing dermatologists identified as female URM physicians; 6%, as male URM physicians.² In this article, we discuss some of the challenges and considerations for URM students applying to dermatology residency in the era of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Barriers for URM Students in Dermatology

Multiple studies have attempted to identify some of the barriers faced by URM students in medicine that might explain the lack of diversity in competitive specialties. Vasquez and colleagues⁴ identified 4 major factors that play a role in dermatology: lack of equitable resources, lack of support, financial limitations, and the lack of group identity. More than half of URM students surveyed (1) identified lack of support as a barrier and (2) reported having been encouraged to seek a specialty more reflective of their community.⁴

Soliman et al⁵ reported that URM barriers in dermatology extend to include lack of diversity in the field, socioeconomic factors, lack of mentorship, and a negative perception of minority students by residency programs. Dermatology is the second least diverse specialty in medicine after orthopedic surgery, which, in and of itself, might further discourage URM students from applying to dermatology.⁵

With the minimal exposure that URM students have to the field of dermatology, the lack of pipeline programs, and reports that URMs often are encouraged to pursue primary care, the current diversity deficiency in dermatology comes as no surprise. In addition, the substantial disadvantage for URM students is perpetuated by the traditional highly selective process that favors grades, board scores, and honor society status over holistic assessment of the individual student and their unique experiences and potential for contribution.

Looking Beyond Test Scores

The US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) traditionally has been used to select dermatology residency applicants, with high cutoff scores often excluding outstanding URM students. Research has suggested that the use of USMLE examination test scores for residency recruitment lacks validity because it has poor predictability of residency performance.⁶ Although the USMLE Step 1 examination is transitioning to pass/fail scoring, applicants for the next cycle will still have a 3-digit numerical score.

We strongly recommend that dermatology programs transition from emphasizing scores of residency candidates to reviewing each candidate holistically. The AAMC defines “holistic review” as a “flexible, individualized way of assessing an applicant’s capabilities, by which balanced consideration is given to experiences, attributes, competencies, and academic or scholarly metrics and, when considered in combination, how the individual might contribute value to the institution’s mission.”⁷ Furthermore, we recommend that dermatology residency programs have multiple faculty members review each application, including a representative of the diversity, inclusion, and equity committee.

 

 

Applying to Residency in the COVID-19 Virtual Environment

In the COVID-19 era, dermatology externship opportunities that would have allowed URM students to work directly with potential residency programs, showcase their abilities, and network have been limited. Virtual residency interviews could make it more challenging to evaluate candidates, especially URM students from less prestigious programs or unusual socioeconomic backgrounds, or with lower board scores. In addition, virtual interviews can more easily become one-dimensional, depriving URM students of the opportunity to gauge their personal fit in a specific dermatology residency program and its community. Questions and concerns of URM students might include: Will I be appropriately supported and mentored? Will my cultural preferences, religion, sexual preference, hairstyle, and beliefs be accepted? Can I advocate for minorities and support antiracism and diversity and inclusion initiatives? To that end, we recommend that dermatology programs continue to host virtual meet-and-greet events for potential students to meet faculty and learn more about the program. In addition, programs should consider having current residents interact virtually with candidates to allow students to better understand the culture of the department and residents’ experiences as trainees in such an environment. For URM students, this is highly important because diversity, inclusion, and antiracism policies and initiatives might not be explicitly available on the institution’s website or residency information page.

Organizations Championing Diversity

Recently, multiple dermatology societies and organizations have been emphasizing the need for diversity and inclusion as well as promoting holistic application review. The American Academy of Dermatology pioneered the Diversity Champion Workshop in 2019 and continues to offer the Diversity Mentorship program, connecting URM students to mentors nationally. The Skin of Color Society offers yearly grants and awards to medical students to develop mentorship and research, and recently hosted webinars to guide medical students and residency programs on diversity and inclusion, residency application and review, and COVID-19 virtual interviews. Other national societies, such as the Student National Medical Association and Latino Medical Student Association, have been promoting workshops and interview mentoring for URM students, including dermatology-specific events. Although it is estimated that more than 90% of medical schools in the United States already perform holistic application review and that such review has been adopted by many dermatology programs nationwide, data regarding dermatology residency programs’ implementation of holistic application review are lacking.⁸

In addition, we encourage continuation of the proposed coordinated interview invite release from the Association of Professors of Dermatology, which was implemented in the 2020-2021 cycle. In light of the recent AAMC letter⁹ on the maldistribution of interview invitations to highest-tier applicants, coordination of interview release dates and other similar initiatives to prevent programs from offering more invites than their available slots and improve transparency about interview days are needed. Furthermore, continuing to offer optional virtual interviews for applicants in future cycles could make the process less cost-prohibitive for many URM students.^4,5

Final Thoughts

Dermatology residency programs must intentionally guard against falling back to traditional standards of assessment as the only means of student evaluation, especially in this virtual era. It is our responsibility to remove artificial barriers that continue to stall progress in diversity, inclusion, equity, and belonging in dermatology.

The COVID-19 pandemic has markedly changed the dermatology residency application process. As medical students head into this application cycle, the impacts of systemic racism and deeply rooted structural barriers continue to be exacerbated for students who identify as an underrepresented minority (URM) in medicine—historically defined as those who self-identify as Hispanic or Latinx; Black or African American; American Indian or Alaska Native; or Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. The Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC) defines URMs as racial and ethnic populations that are underrepresented in medicine relative to their numbers in the general population.¹ Although these groups account for approximately 34% of the population of the United States, they constitute only 11% of the country’s physician workforce.^2,3

Of the total physician workforce in the United States, Black and African American physicians account for 5% of practicing physicians; Hispanic physicians, 5.8%; American Indian and Alaska Native physicians, 0.3%; and Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander physicians, 0.1%.² In competitive medical specialties, the disproportionality of these numbers compared to our current demographics in the United States as shown above is even more staggering. In 2018, for example, 10% of practicing dermatologists identified as female URM physicians; 6%, as male URM physicians.² In this article, we discuss some of the challenges and considerations for URM students applying to dermatology residency in the era of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Barriers for URM Students in Dermatology

Multiple studies have attempted to identify some of the barriers faced by URM students in medicine that might explain the lack of diversity in competitive specialties. Vasquez and colleagues⁴ identified 4 major factors that play a role in dermatology: lack of equitable resources, lack of support, financial limitations, and the lack of group identity. More than half of URM students surveyed (1) identified lack of support as a barrier and (2) reported having been encouraged to seek a specialty more reflective of their community.⁴

Soliman et al⁵ reported that URM barriers in dermatology extend to include lack of diversity in the field, socioeconomic factors, lack of mentorship, and a negative perception of minority students by residency programs. Dermatology is the second least diverse specialty in medicine after orthopedic surgery, which, in and of itself, might further discourage URM students from applying to dermatology.⁵

With the minimal exposure that URM students have to the field of dermatology, the lack of pipeline programs, and reports that URMs often are encouraged to pursue primary care, the current diversity deficiency in dermatology comes as no surprise. In addition, the substantial disadvantage for URM students is perpetuated by the traditional highly selective process that favors grades, board scores, and honor society status over holistic assessment of the individual student and their unique experiences and potential for contribution.

Looking Beyond Test Scores

The US Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) traditionally has been used to select dermatology residency applicants, with high cutoff scores often excluding outstanding URM students. Research has suggested that the use of USMLE examination test scores for residency recruitment lacks validity because it has poor predictability of residency performance.⁶ Although the USMLE Step 1 examination is transitioning to pass/fail scoring, applicants for the next cycle will still have a 3-digit numerical score.

We strongly recommend that dermatology programs transition from emphasizing scores of residency candidates to reviewing each candidate holistically. The AAMC defines “holistic review” as a “flexible, individualized way of assessing an applicant’s capabilities, by which balanced consideration is given to experiences, attributes, competencies, and academic or scholarly metrics and, when considered in combination, how the individual might contribute value to the institution’s mission.”⁷ Furthermore, we recommend that dermatology residency programs have multiple faculty members review each application, including a representative of the diversity, inclusion, and equity committee.

 

 

Applying to Residency in the COVID-19 Virtual Environment

In the COVID-19 era, dermatology externship opportunities that would have allowed URM students to work directly with potential residency programs, showcase their abilities, and network have been limited. Virtual residency interviews could make it more challenging to evaluate candidates, especially URM students from less prestigious programs or unusual socioeconomic backgrounds, or with lower board scores. In addition, virtual interviews can more easily become one-dimensional, depriving URM students of the opportunity to gauge their personal fit in a specific dermatology residency program and its community. Questions and concerns of URM students might include: Will I be appropriately supported and mentored? Will my cultural preferences, religion, sexual preference, hairstyle, and beliefs be accepted? Can I advocate for minorities and support antiracism and diversity and inclusion initiatives? To that end, we recommend that dermatology programs continue to host virtual meet-and-greet events for potential students to meet faculty and learn more about the program. In addition, programs should consider having current residents interact virtually with candidates to allow students to better understand the culture of the department and residents’ experiences as trainees in such an environment. For URM students, this is highly important because diversity, inclusion, and antiracism policies and initiatives might not be explicitly available on the institution’s website or residency information page.

Organizations Championing Diversity

Recently, multiple dermatology societies and organizations have been emphasizing the need for diversity and inclusion as well as promoting holistic application review. The American Academy of Dermatology pioneered the Diversity Champion Workshop in 2019 and continues to offer the Diversity Mentorship program, connecting URM students to mentors nationally. The Skin of Color Society offers yearly grants and awards to medical students to develop mentorship and research, and recently hosted webinars to guide medical students and residency programs on diversity and inclusion, residency application and review, and COVID-19 virtual interviews. Other national societies, such as the Student National Medical Association and Latino Medical Student Association, have been promoting workshops and interview mentoring for URM students, including dermatology-specific events. Although it is estimated that more than 90% of medical schools in the United States already perform holistic application review and that such review has been adopted by many dermatology programs nationwide, data regarding dermatology residency programs’ implementation of holistic application review are lacking.⁸

In addition, we encourage continuation of the proposed coordinated interview invite release from the Association of Professors of Dermatology, which was implemented in the 2020-2021 cycle. In light of the recent AAMC letter⁹ on the maldistribution of interview invitations to highest-tier applicants, coordination of interview release dates and other similar initiatives to prevent programs from offering more invites than their available slots and improve transparency about interview days are needed. Furthermore, continuing to offer optional virtual interviews for applicants in future cycles could make the process less cost-prohibitive for many URM students.^4,5

Final Thoughts

Dermatology residency programs must intentionally guard against falling back to traditional standards of assessment as the only means of student evaluation, especially in this virtual era. It is our responsibility to remove artificial barriers that continue to stall progress in diversity, inclusion, equity, and belonging in dermatology.

A secondary consequence of public health measures to prevent the spread of SARS-CoV-2 included a concurrent reduction in risk for children to acquire and spread other respiratory viral infectious diseases. In the Rochester, N.Y., area, we had an ongoing prospective study in primary care pediatric practices that afforded an opportunity to assess the effect of the pandemic control measures on all infectious disease illness visits in young children. Specifically, in children aged 6-36 months old, our study was in place when the pandemic began with a primary objective to evaluate the changing epidemiology of acute otitis media (AOM) and nasopharyngeal colonization by potential bacterial respiratory pathogens in community-based primary care pediatric practices. As the public health measures mandated by New York State Department of Health were implemented, we prospectively quantified their effect on physician-diagnosed infectious disease illness visits. The incidence of infectious disease visits by a cohort of young children during the COVID-19 pandemic period March 15, 2020, through Dec. 31, 2020, was compared with the same time frame in the preceding year, 2019.¹

Recommendations of the New York State Department of Health for public health, changes in school and day care attendance, and clinical practice during the study time frame

On March 7, 2020, a state of emergency was declared in New York because of the COVID-19 pandemic. All schools were required to close. A mandated order for public use of masks in adults and children more than 2 years of age was enacted. In the Finger Lakes region of Upstate New York, where the two primary care pediatric practices reside, complete lockdown was partially lifted on May 15, 2020, and further lifted on June 26, 2020. Almost all regional school districts opened to at least hybrid learning models for all students starting Sept. 8, 2020. On March 6, 2020, video telehealth and telephone call visits were introduced as routine practice. Well-child visits were limited to those less than 2 years of age, then gradually expanded to all ages by late May 2020. During the “stay at home” phase of the New York State lockdown, day care services were considered an essential business. Day care child density was limited. All children less than 2 years old were required to wear a mask while in the facility. Upon arrival, children with any respiratory symptoms or fever were excluded. For the school year commencing September 2020, almost all regional school districts opened to virtual, hybrid, or in-person learning models. Exclusion occurred similar to that of the day care facilities.

Incidence of respiratory infectious disease illnesses

Clinical diagnoses and healthy visits of 144 children from March 15 to Dec. 31, 2020 (beginning of the pandemic) were compared to 215 children during the same months in 2019 (prepandemic). Pediatric SARS-CoV-2 positivity rates trended up alongside community spread. Pediatric practice positivity rates rose from 1.9% in October 2020 to 19% in December 2020.

The table shows the incidence of significantly different infectious disease illness visits in the two study cohorts.

Change in care practices

In the prepandemic period, virtual visits, leading to a diagnosis and treatment and referring children to an urgent care or hospital emergency department during regular office hours were rare. During the pandemic, this changed. Significantly increased use of telemedicine visits (P < .0001) and significantly decreased office and urgent care visits (P < .0001) occurred during the pandemic. Telehealth visits peaked the week of April 12, 2020, at 45% of all pediatric visits. In-person illness visits gradually returned to year-to-year volumes in August-September 2020 with school opening. Early in the pandemic, both pediatric offices limited patient encounters to well-child visits in the first 2 years of life to not miss opportunities for childhood vaccinations. However, some parents were reluctant to bring their children to those visits. There was no significant change in frequency of healthy child visits during the pandemic.

To our knowledge, this was the first study from primary care pediatric practices in the United States to analyze the effect on infectious diseases during the first 9 months of the pandemic, including the 6-month time period after the reopening from the first 3 months of lockdown. One prior study from a primary care network in Massachusetts reported significant decreases in respiratory infectious diseases for children aged 0-17 years during the first months of the pandemic during lockdown.² A study in Tennessee that included hospital emergency department, urgent care, primary care, and retail health clinics also reported respiratory infection diagnoses as well as antibiotic prescription were reduced in the early months of the pandemic.³

Our study shows an overall reduction in frequency of respiratory illness visits in children 6-36 months old during the first 9 months of the COVID-19 pandemic. We learned the value of using technology in the form of virtual visits to render care. Perhaps as the pandemic subsides, many of the hand-washing and sanitizing practices will remain in place and lead to less frequent illness in children in the future. However, there may be temporary negative consequences from the “immune debt” that has occurred from a prolonged time span when children were not becoming infected with respiratory pathogens.⁴ We will see what unfolds in the future.
 

Dr. Pichichero is a specialist in pediatric infectious diseases and director of the Research Institute at Rochester (N.Y.) General Hospital. Dr. Schulz is pediatric medical director at Rochester (N.Y.) Regional Health. Dr. Pichichero and Dr. Schulz have no conflicts of interest to disclose. This study was funded in part by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

References

1. Kaur R et al. Front Pediatr. 2021;(9)722483:1-8.

2. Hatoun J et al. Pediatrics. 2020;146(4):e2020006460.

3. Katz SE et al. J Pediatric Infect Dis Soc. 2021;10(1):62-4.

4. Cohen R et al. Infect. Dis Now. 2021; 51(5)418-23.

A secondary consequence of public health measures to prevent the spread of SARS-CoV-2 included a concurrent reduction in risk for children to acquire and spread other respiratory viral infectious diseases. In the Rochester, N.Y., area, we had an ongoing prospective study in primary care pediatric practices that afforded an opportunity to assess the effect of the pandemic control measures on all infectious disease illness visits in young children. Specifically, in children aged 6-36 months old, our study was in place when the pandemic began with a primary objective to evaluate the changing epidemiology of acute otitis media (AOM) and nasopharyngeal colonization by potential bacterial respiratory pathogens in community-based primary care pediatric practices. As the public health measures mandated by New York State Department of Health were implemented, we prospectively quantified their effect on physician-diagnosed infectious disease illness visits. The incidence of infectious disease visits by a cohort of young children during the COVID-19 pandemic period March 15, 2020, through Dec. 31, 2020, was compared with the same time frame in the preceding year, 2019.¹

Recommendations of the New York State Department of Health for public health, changes in school and day care attendance, and clinical practice during the study time frame

On March 7, 2020, a state of emergency was declared in New York because of the COVID-19 pandemic. All schools were required to close. A mandated order for public use of masks in adults and children more than 2 years of age was enacted. In the Finger Lakes region of Upstate New York, where the two primary care pediatric practices reside, complete lockdown was partially lifted on May 15, 2020, and further lifted on June 26, 2020. Almost all regional school districts opened to at least hybrid learning models for all students starting Sept. 8, 2020. On March 6, 2020, video telehealth and telephone call visits were introduced as routine practice. Well-child visits were limited to those less than 2 years of age, then gradually expanded to all ages by late May 2020. During the “stay at home” phase of the New York State lockdown, day care services were considered an essential business. Day care child density was limited. All children less than 2 years old were required to wear a mask while in the facility. Upon arrival, children with any respiratory symptoms or fever were excluded. For the school year commencing September 2020, almost all regional school districts opened to virtual, hybrid, or in-person learning models. Exclusion occurred similar to that of the day care facilities.

Incidence of respiratory infectious disease illnesses

Clinical diagnoses and healthy visits of 144 children from March 15 to Dec. 31, 2020 (beginning of the pandemic) were compared to 215 children during the same months in 2019 (prepandemic). Pediatric SARS-CoV-2 positivity rates trended up alongside community spread. Pediatric practice positivity rates rose from 1.9% in October 2020 to 19% in December 2020.

The table shows the incidence of significantly different infectious disease illness visits in the two study cohorts.

Change in care practices

In the prepandemic period, virtual visits, leading to a diagnosis and treatment and referring children to an urgent care or hospital emergency department during regular office hours were rare. During the pandemic, this changed. Significantly increased use of telemedicine visits (P < .0001) and significantly decreased office and urgent care visits (P < .0001) occurred during the pandemic. Telehealth visits peaked the week of April 12, 2020, at 45% of all pediatric visits. In-person illness visits gradually returned to year-to-year volumes in August-September 2020 with school opening. Early in the pandemic, both pediatric offices limited patient encounters to well-child visits in the first 2 years of life to not miss opportunities for childhood vaccinations. However, some parents were reluctant to bring their children to those visits. There was no significant change in frequency of healthy child visits during the pandemic.

To our knowledge, this was the first study from primary care pediatric practices in the United States to analyze the effect on infectious diseases during the first 9 months of the pandemic, including the 6-month time period after the reopening from the first 3 months of lockdown. One prior study from a primary care network in Massachusetts reported significant decreases in respiratory infectious diseases for children aged 0-17 years during the first months of the pandemic during lockdown.² A study in Tennessee that included hospital emergency department, urgent care, primary care, and retail health clinics also reported respiratory infection diagnoses as well as antibiotic prescription were reduced in the early months of the pandemic.³

Our study shows an overall reduction in frequency of respiratory illness visits in children 6-36 months old during the first 9 months of the COVID-19 pandemic. We learned the value of using technology in the form of virtual visits to render care. Perhaps as the pandemic subsides, many of the hand-washing and sanitizing practices will remain in place and lead to less frequent illness in children in the future. However, there may be temporary negative consequences from the “immune debt” that has occurred from a prolonged time span when children were not becoming infected with respiratory pathogens.⁴ We will see what unfolds in the future.
 

Dr. Pichichero is a specialist in pediatric infectious diseases and director of the Research Institute at Rochester (N.Y.) General Hospital. Dr. Schulz is pediatric medical director at Rochester (N.Y.) Regional Health. Dr. Pichichero and Dr. Schulz have no conflicts of interest to disclose. This study was funded in part by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

References

1. Kaur R et al. Front Pediatr. 2021;(9)722483:1-8.

2. Hatoun J et al. Pediatrics. 2020;146(4):e2020006460.

3. Katz SE et al. J Pediatric Infect Dis Soc. 2021;10(1):62-4.

4. Cohen R et al. Infect. Dis Now. 2021; 51(5)418-23.

A secondary consequence of public health measures to prevent the spread of SARS-CoV-2 included a concurrent reduction in risk for children to acquire and spread other respiratory viral infectious diseases. In the Rochester, N.Y., area, we had an ongoing prospective study in primary care pediatric practices that afforded an opportunity to assess the effect of the pandemic control measures on all infectious disease illness visits in young children. Specifically, in children aged 6-36 months old, our study was in place when the pandemic began with a primary objective to evaluate the changing epidemiology of acute otitis media (AOM) and nasopharyngeal colonization by potential bacterial respiratory pathogens in community-based primary care pediatric practices. As the public health measures mandated by New York State Department of Health were implemented, we prospectively quantified their effect on physician-diagnosed infectious disease illness visits. The incidence of infectious disease visits by a cohort of young children during the COVID-19 pandemic period March 15, 2020, through Dec. 31, 2020, was compared with the same time frame in the preceding year, 2019.¹

Recommendations of the New York State Department of Health for public health, changes in school and day care attendance, and clinical practice during the study time frame

On March 7, 2020, a state of emergency was declared in New York because of the COVID-19 pandemic. All schools were required to close. A mandated order for public use of masks in adults and children more than 2 years of age was enacted. In the Finger Lakes region of Upstate New York, where the two primary care pediatric practices reside, complete lockdown was partially lifted on May 15, 2020, and further lifted on June 26, 2020. Almost all regional school districts opened to at least hybrid learning models for all students starting Sept. 8, 2020. On March 6, 2020, video telehealth and telephone call visits were introduced as routine practice. Well-child visits were limited to those less than 2 years of age, then gradually expanded to all ages by late May 2020. During the “stay at home” phase of the New York State lockdown, day care services were considered an essential business. Day care child density was limited. All children less than 2 years old were required to wear a mask while in the facility. Upon arrival, children with any respiratory symptoms or fever were excluded. For the school year commencing September 2020, almost all regional school districts opened to virtual, hybrid, or in-person learning models. Exclusion occurred similar to that of the day care facilities.

Incidence of respiratory infectious disease illnesses

Clinical diagnoses and healthy visits of 144 children from March 15 to Dec. 31, 2020 (beginning of the pandemic) were compared to 215 children during the same months in 2019 (prepandemic). Pediatric SARS-CoV-2 positivity rates trended up alongside community spread. Pediatric practice positivity rates rose from 1.9% in October 2020 to 19% in December 2020.

The table shows the incidence of significantly different infectious disease illness visits in the two study cohorts.

Change in care practices

In the prepandemic period, virtual visits, leading to a diagnosis and treatment and referring children to an urgent care or hospital emergency department during regular office hours were rare. During the pandemic, this changed. Significantly increased use of telemedicine visits (P < .0001) and significantly decreased office and urgent care visits (P < .0001) occurred during the pandemic. Telehealth visits peaked the week of April 12, 2020, at 45% of all pediatric visits. In-person illness visits gradually returned to year-to-year volumes in August-September 2020 with school opening. Early in the pandemic, both pediatric offices limited patient encounters to well-child visits in the first 2 years of life to not miss opportunities for childhood vaccinations. However, some parents were reluctant to bring their children to those visits. There was no significant change in frequency of healthy child visits during the pandemic.

To our knowledge, this was the first study from primary care pediatric practices in the United States to analyze the effect on infectious diseases during the first 9 months of the pandemic, including the 6-month time period after the reopening from the first 3 months of lockdown. One prior study from a primary care network in Massachusetts reported significant decreases in respiratory infectious diseases for children aged 0-17 years during the first months of the pandemic during lockdown.² A study in Tennessee that included hospital emergency department, urgent care, primary care, and retail health clinics also reported respiratory infection diagnoses as well as antibiotic prescription were reduced in the early months of the pandemic.³

Our study shows an overall reduction in frequency of respiratory illness visits in children 6-36 months old during the first 9 months of the COVID-19 pandemic. We learned the value of using technology in the form of virtual visits to render care. Perhaps as the pandemic subsides, many of the hand-washing and sanitizing practices will remain in place and lead to less frequent illness in children in the future. However, there may be temporary negative consequences from the “immune debt” that has occurred from a prolonged time span when children were not becoming infected with respiratory pathogens.⁴ We will see what unfolds in the future.
 

Dr. Pichichero is a specialist in pediatric infectious diseases and director of the Research Institute at Rochester (N.Y.) General Hospital. Dr. Schulz is pediatric medical director at Rochester (N.Y.) Regional Health. Dr. Pichichero and Dr. Schulz have no conflicts of interest to disclose. This study was funded in part by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

References

1. Kaur R et al. Front Pediatr. 2021;(9)722483:1-8.

2. Hatoun J et al. Pediatrics. 2020;146(4):e2020006460.

3. Katz SE et al. J Pediatric Infect Dis Soc. 2021;10(1):62-4.

4. Cohen R et al. Infect. Dis Now. 2021; 51(5)418-23.

Health care has been dramatically transformed and influenced by medical and technological advances, insurance companies, state and federal legislation, and medical ethics. Amid these changes, including crises such as the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, earning the trust of patients to care for their mental and physical health remains a priority and a privilege.

It is troubling that federal health care agencies, in addition to hospitals, clinics, pharmacies, insurance companies, and administrators, often use the term provider when referring to clinicians on the multidisciplinary health care treatment team, which has become the predominant model for health care delivery. The word provider does not originate in the health care arena but from the world of commerce and contains no reference to professionalism or therapeutic relationships.¹ Therefore, it should be replaced with more appropriate terminology that acknowledges clinicians’ roles and expertise and values our unique relationship with patients.

Why Is Provider a Problem?

First, the origin of the term provider is deplorable. During its ascent to power in the 1930s, the Nazi Party promoted the devaluation and exclusion of Jews in German society, including the medical community. Due to its eugenics campaign, the Nazi Party first targeted pediatrics, a specialty in which nearly half of its practitioners were Jewish.² Beginning with female pediatricians, all Jewish physicians were redesignated as Behandler (provider) instead of Arzt (doctor).² This is the first documented demeaning of physicians as providers in modern history. Jewish doctors were soon restricted to treating only Jewish patients and were further persecuted during the Holocaust. Knowing this background, what health care organization would use a term once associated with Nazi ideology?³

Second, using provider changes the treatment relationship. The nomenclature shift in the United States also seems to have originated in political and legislative circles. Although the reasons for this shift are unclear, the terminology became more pervasive after the government first used the term provider in Title XIX of the 1965 Social Security Amendments that established Medicare and Medicaid. Paydarfar and Schwartz noted it was used “in the sense of a contractor being paid for delivering any health-related products and services.”⁴ Ironically, a 1967 medical student health organization grant proposal discussed the role of a patient advocate in facilitating communication between “health care provider and patient.”⁵ A journalist for the New York Times used the word to describe a 1970 New York Senate debate surrounding the sale of Medicaid bills to collection agencies, but it is unclear whether the senators themselves used the term.⁶ Provider was later used in the National Health Planning and Resource Development Act of 1974.⁷

Ultimately, the adaptation of this terminology led to medicine being thought of only as a business, a commoditization of care, and reinforced by referring to patients as consumers, clients, or customers.³ This terminology suggests that the clinician-patient relationship is a commercial transaction based on a market concept where patients are consumers to be serviced.^1,8 Emphasis is placed on following algorithms and treating symptoms rather than patients.⁹ Despite a goal of minimizing cost, a mismatched referral to a provider may actually compromise patient safety and cost-effectiveness due to missed diagnoses or excessive diagnostic testing.¹⁰

In addition to government, other nonclinical entities (eg, insurance companies, advocacy groups) and some clinicians may prefer the generic term provider. Besides health care commoditization, reasons may include convenience, simplifying health care nomenclature, or removing distinctions among health care professionals to reduce costs and/or increase autonomy.

However, our value as health care professionals is not simply what we can “provide.”¹¹ We seek to know patients as people, putting their needs ahead of ours.¹ We serve as confidants and advocates and not merely providers of medications, tests, or procedures.¹¹ This personalized nature of health care depends on trust and professionalism rather than dispassionate delivery of commoditized services.¹ Using traditional terminology acknowledges the true nature of the treatment relationship—one that is established not on market concepts but on medical ethics of autonomy, justice, beneficence, and nonmaleficence.

Third, provider is inaccurate and potentially disrespectful and harmful. The word doctor is derived from Latin doctus or docere, meaning to teach or instruct—a valued function in our interactions with patients, families, students, and colleagues.^12,13 In contrast, provider refers to commercial transactions or the provision of shelter, food, and love within families and communities.^1,14

Although there are no studies assessing the impact of this terminology on individual clinicians, the term provider may have a negative impact on both individual clinicians and on the health care system. Health care professionals may feel they are being disrespected by being portrayed as dispensers of services rather than as individuals.^13,15 Furthermore, provider does not acknowledge the specialized training and qualifications of multidisciplinary treatment team members. The historical and theoretical foundation, degrees awarded, and scopes of practice for physicians, physician assistants, nurse practitioners, dentists, psychologists, optometrists, physical therapists, or social workers are different yet valuable, and their expertise and accomplishment should be recognized.

The use of this term has potential for causing moral injury and reduced self-worth, sense of purpose, and meaning in our daily work; this could threaten satisfaction and commitment and lead to demoralization and burnout.^1,16 It may impair effective team dynamics, as it makes no reference to professional values and may lead patients and clinicians to place lower value on professionalism and conduct.¹⁰ It may negatively impact primary care specialties by propagating the connotation that primary care is simple care and promoting low compensation, lagging recruitment, and diminished respect.¹⁰ Finally, it is detrimental to patients by changing the nature of the relationship and failing to evoke the compassion and support that sick people (that is, patients) need and deserve.³

Last, use of this term can mislead patients. By law, a health care provider is defined as “a doctor of medicine or osteopathy who is authorized to practice medicine or surgery… or any other person determined by the Secretary [of Labor] to be capable of providing health care services,” which includes podiatrists, dentists, clinical psychologists, optometrists, chiropractors, nurse practitioners, nurse-midwives, clinical social workers, and physician assistants.¹⁷

When clinicians are categorized as providers rather than by their degrees and roles/responsibilities, patients may assume that all team members have equal training, interchangeable skills, and uniform expertise and knowledge and may conclude they can receive the same level of care from anyone.^8,10 Potential for confusion is increased by the nearly ubiquitous white laboratory coat in clinical settings and doctoral degrees attainable in different health care disciplines (eg, medicine, nursing, psychology, pharmacy, physical therapy). Patients deserve to know who does what on the team of professionals who care for them and may not be fully informed when requesting or receiving treatment if they are not provided important information, such as a clinician’s title, training, and scope of practice.^8,16

Reversing the Trend 

Increasing awareness among patients, their families, health professions students, and health care colleagues and administrators of the importance of traditional nomenclature is a first step in reversing this trend or mitigating its impact. If an overarching generic term is required, then health care professional, clinician, or practitioner are preferred.^10,12 Fifteen years ago, the Southern California Permanente Medical Group prohibited the use of the word provider to describe physicians, and its editorial style deemed it cold and institutional.¹⁶ Many, but not all, state, regional, or national medical associations and journals avoid provider in their names or titles.

I am encouraged that this journal—drawing its audience from several government health care agencies—is named Federal Practitioner rather than Federal Provider. This is reasonable and accurate, as practitioner refers to the practice of a profession, usually associated with health care.

I hope other professions can resist this trend. Lawyers are not considered legal aid providers, and teachers are not called knowledge providers.³ We do not refer to airline pilots as air transportation providers or musicians as instrument-playing melody providers. Many veterans likely would be offended if they were referred to as Constitution support and defense providers rather than by the military branch-specific titles that they earned through dedication, training, and sacrifice. The individuals in these examples demonstrate commitment to representing clients, educating students, flying passengers, playing instruments, or ensuring national defense. As health care professionals, our commitment to treating patients is equally important.⁴

Language matters when it comes to people feeling respected and achieving their full potential.¹ I encourage government health care agencies to stop referring to us as providers and resume using traditional nomenclature. This will demonstrate genuine respect for us, transparency for the patients we serve, and recognition that caring for the sick is a calling, not a commodity.

Dedication

The author dedicates this article to his father John E. Scarff, Jr, a physician and United States Army veteran.

Health care has been dramatically transformed and influenced by medical and technological advances, insurance companies, state and federal legislation, and medical ethics. Amid these changes, including crises such as the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, earning the trust of patients to care for their mental and physical health remains a priority and a privilege.

It is troubling that federal health care agencies, in addition to hospitals, clinics, pharmacies, insurance companies, and administrators, often use the term provider when referring to clinicians on the multidisciplinary health care treatment team, which has become the predominant model for health care delivery. The word provider does not originate in the health care arena but from the world of commerce and contains no reference to professionalism or therapeutic relationships.¹ Therefore, it should be replaced with more appropriate terminology that acknowledges clinicians’ roles and expertise and values our unique relationship with patients.

Why Is Provider a Problem?

First, the origin of the term provider is deplorable. During its ascent to power in the 1930s, the Nazi Party promoted the devaluation and exclusion of Jews in German society, including the medical community. Due to its eugenics campaign, the Nazi Party first targeted pediatrics, a specialty in which nearly half of its practitioners were Jewish.² Beginning with female pediatricians, all Jewish physicians were redesignated as Behandler (provider) instead of Arzt (doctor).² This is the first documented demeaning of physicians as providers in modern history. Jewish doctors were soon restricted to treating only Jewish patients and were further persecuted during the Holocaust. Knowing this background, what health care organization would use a term once associated with Nazi ideology?³

Second, using provider changes the treatment relationship. The nomenclature shift in the United States also seems to have originated in political and legislative circles. Although the reasons for this shift are unclear, the terminology became more pervasive after the government first used the term provider in Title XIX of the 1965 Social Security Amendments that established Medicare and Medicaid. Paydarfar and Schwartz noted it was used “in the sense of a contractor being paid for delivering any health-related products and services.”⁴ Ironically, a 1967 medical student health organization grant proposal discussed the role of a patient advocate in facilitating communication between “health care provider and patient.”⁵ A journalist for the New York Times used the word to describe a 1970 New York Senate debate surrounding the sale of Medicaid bills to collection agencies, but it is unclear whether the senators themselves used the term.⁶ Provider was later used in the National Health Planning and Resource Development Act of 1974.⁷

Ultimately, the adaptation of this terminology led to medicine being thought of only as a business, a commoditization of care, and reinforced by referring to patients as consumers, clients, or customers.³ This terminology suggests that the clinician-patient relationship is a commercial transaction based on a market concept where patients are consumers to be serviced.^1,8 Emphasis is placed on following algorithms and treating symptoms rather than patients.⁹ Despite a goal of minimizing cost, a mismatched referral to a provider may actually compromise patient safety and cost-effectiveness due to missed diagnoses or excessive diagnostic testing.¹⁰

In addition to government, other nonclinical entities (eg, insurance companies, advocacy groups) and some clinicians may prefer the generic term provider. Besides health care commoditization, reasons may include convenience, simplifying health care nomenclature, or removing distinctions among health care professionals to reduce costs and/or increase autonomy.

However, our value as health care professionals is not simply what we can “provide.”¹¹ We seek to know patients as people, putting their needs ahead of ours.¹ We serve as confidants and advocates and not merely providers of medications, tests, or procedures.¹¹ This personalized nature of health care depends on trust and professionalism rather than dispassionate delivery of commoditized services.¹ Using traditional terminology acknowledges the true nature of the treatment relationship—one that is established not on market concepts but on medical ethics of autonomy, justice, beneficence, and nonmaleficence.

Third, provider is inaccurate and potentially disrespectful and harmful. The word doctor is derived from Latin doctus or docere, meaning to teach or instruct—a valued function in our interactions with patients, families, students, and colleagues.^12,13 In contrast, provider refers to commercial transactions or the provision of shelter, food, and love within families and communities.^1,14

Although there are no studies assessing the impact of this terminology on individual clinicians, the term provider may have a negative impact on both individual clinicians and on the health care system. Health care professionals may feel they are being disrespected by being portrayed as dispensers of services rather than as individuals.^13,15 Furthermore, provider does not acknowledge the specialized training and qualifications of multidisciplinary treatment team members. The historical and theoretical foundation, degrees awarded, and scopes of practice for physicians, physician assistants, nurse practitioners, dentists, psychologists, optometrists, physical therapists, or social workers are different yet valuable, and their expertise and accomplishment should be recognized.

The use of this term has potential for causing moral injury and reduced self-worth, sense of purpose, and meaning in our daily work; this could threaten satisfaction and commitment and lead to demoralization and burnout.^1,16 It may impair effective team dynamics, as it makes no reference to professional values and may lead patients and clinicians to place lower value on professionalism and conduct.¹⁰ It may negatively impact primary care specialties by propagating the connotation that primary care is simple care and promoting low compensation, lagging recruitment, and diminished respect.¹⁰ Finally, it is detrimental to patients by changing the nature of the relationship and failing to evoke the compassion and support that sick people (that is, patients) need and deserve.³

Last, use of this term can mislead patients. By law, a health care provider is defined as “a doctor of medicine or osteopathy who is authorized to practice medicine or surgery… or any other person determined by the Secretary [of Labor] to be capable of providing health care services,” which includes podiatrists, dentists, clinical psychologists, optometrists, chiropractors, nurse practitioners, nurse-midwives, clinical social workers, and physician assistants.¹⁷

When clinicians are categorized as providers rather than by their degrees and roles/responsibilities, patients may assume that all team members have equal training, interchangeable skills, and uniform expertise and knowledge and may conclude they can receive the same level of care from anyone.^8,10 Potential for confusion is increased by the nearly ubiquitous white laboratory coat in clinical settings and doctoral degrees attainable in different health care disciplines (eg, medicine, nursing, psychology, pharmacy, physical therapy). Patients deserve to know who does what on the team of professionals who care for them and may not be fully informed when requesting or receiving treatment if they are not provided important information, such as a clinician’s title, training, and scope of practice.^8,16

Reversing the Trend 

Increasing awareness among patients, their families, health professions students, and health care colleagues and administrators of the importance of traditional nomenclature is a first step in reversing this trend or mitigating its impact. If an overarching generic term is required, then health care professional, clinician, or practitioner are preferred.^10,12 Fifteen years ago, the Southern California Permanente Medical Group prohibited the use of the word provider to describe physicians, and its editorial style deemed it cold and institutional.¹⁶ Many, but not all, state, regional, or national medical associations and journals avoid provider in their names or titles.

I am encouraged that this journal—drawing its audience from several government health care agencies—is named Federal Practitioner rather than Federal Provider. This is reasonable and accurate, as practitioner refers to the practice of a profession, usually associated with health care.

I hope other professions can resist this trend. Lawyers are not considered legal aid providers, and teachers are not called knowledge providers.³ We do not refer to airline pilots as air transportation providers or musicians as instrument-playing melody providers. Many veterans likely would be offended if they were referred to as Constitution support and defense providers rather than by the military branch-specific titles that they earned through dedication, training, and sacrifice. The individuals in these examples demonstrate commitment to representing clients, educating students, flying passengers, playing instruments, or ensuring national defense. As health care professionals, our commitment to treating patients is equally important.⁴

Language matters when it comes to people feeling respected and achieving their full potential.¹ I encourage government health care agencies to stop referring to us as providers and resume using traditional nomenclature. This will demonstrate genuine respect for us, transparency for the patients we serve, and recognition that caring for the sick is a calling, not a commodity.

Dedication

The author dedicates this article to his father John E. Scarff, Jr, a physician and United States Army veteran.

Health care has been dramatically transformed and influenced by medical and technological advances, insurance companies, state and federal legislation, and medical ethics. Amid these changes, including crises such as the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, earning the trust of patients to care for their mental and physical health remains a priority and a privilege.

It is troubling that federal health care agencies, in addition to hospitals, clinics, pharmacies, insurance companies, and administrators, often use the term provider when referring to clinicians on the multidisciplinary health care treatment team, which has become the predominant model for health care delivery. The word provider does not originate in the health care arena but from the world of commerce and contains no reference to professionalism or therapeutic relationships.¹ Therefore, it should be replaced with more appropriate terminology that acknowledges clinicians’ roles and expertise and values our unique relationship with patients.

Why Is Provider a Problem?

First, the origin of the term provider is deplorable. During its ascent to power in the 1930s, the Nazi Party promoted the devaluation and exclusion of Jews in German society, including the medical community. Due to its eugenics campaign, the Nazi Party first targeted pediatrics, a specialty in which nearly half of its practitioners were Jewish.² Beginning with female pediatricians, all Jewish physicians were redesignated as Behandler (provider) instead of Arzt (doctor).² This is the first documented demeaning of physicians as providers in modern history. Jewish doctors were soon restricted to treating only Jewish patients and were further persecuted during the Holocaust. Knowing this background, what health care organization would use a term once associated with Nazi ideology?³

Second, using provider changes the treatment relationship. The nomenclature shift in the United States also seems to have originated in political and legislative circles. Although the reasons for this shift are unclear, the terminology became more pervasive after the government first used the term provider in Title XIX of the 1965 Social Security Amendments that established Medicare and Medicaid. Paydarfar and Schwartz noted it was used “in the sense of a contractor being paid for delivering any health-related products and services.”⁴ Ironically, a 1967 medical student health organization grant proposal discussed the role of a patient advocate in facilitating communication between “health care provider and patient.”⁵ A journalist for the New York Times used the word to describe a 1970 New York Senate debate surrounding the sale of Medicaid bills to collection agencies, but it is unclear whether the senators themselves used the term.⁶ Provider was later used in the National Health Planning and Resource Development Act of 1974.⁷

Ultimately, the adaptation of this terminology led to medicine being thought of only as a business, a commoditization of care, and reinforced by referring to patients as consumers, clients, or customers.³ This terminology suggests that the clinician-patient relationship is a commercial transaction based on a market concept where patients are consumers to be serviced.^1,8 Emphasis is placed on following algorithms and treating symptoms rather than patients.⁹ Despite a goal of minimizing cost, a mismatched referral to a provider may actually compromise patient safety and cost-effectiveness due to missed diagnoses or excessive diagnostic testing.¹⁰

In addition to government, other nonclinical entities (eg, insurance companies, advocacy groups) and some clinicians may prefer the generic term provider. Besides health care commoditization, reasons may include convenience, simplifying health care nomenclature, or removing distinctions among health care professionals to reduce costs and/or increase autonomy.

However, our value as health care professionals is not simply what we can “provide.”¹¹ We seek to know patients as people, putting their needs ahead of ours.¹ We serve as confidants and advocates and not merely providers of medications, tests, or procedures.¹¹ This personalized nature of health care depends on trust and professionalism rather than dispassionate delivery of commoditized services.¹ Using traditional terminology acknowledges the true nature of the treatment relationship—one that is established not on market concepts but on medical ethics of autonomy, justice, beneficence, and nonmaleficence.

Third, provider is inaccurate and potentially disrespectful and harmful. The word doctor is derived from Latin doctus or docere, meaning to teach or instruct—a valued function in our interactions with patients, families, students, and colleagues.^12,13 In contrast, provider refers to commercial transactions or the provision of shelter, food, and love within families and communities.^1,14

Although there are no studies assessing the impact of this terminology on individual clinicians, the term provider may have a negative impact on both individual clinicians and on the health care system. Health care professionals may feel they are being disrespected by being portrayed as dispensers of services rather than as individuals.^13,15 Furthermore, provider does not acknowledge the specialized training and qualifications of multidisciplinary treatment team members. The historical and theoretical foundation, degrees awarded, and scopes of practice for physicians, physician assistants, nurse practitioners, dentists, psychologists, optometrists, physical therapists, or social workers are different yet valuable, and their expertise and accomplishment should be recognized.

The use of this term has potential for causing moral injury and reduced self-worth, sense of purpose, and meaning in our daily work; this could threaten satisfaction and commitment and lead to demoralization and burnout.^1,16 It may impair effective team dynamics, as it makes no reference to professional values and may lead patients and clinicians to place lower value on professionalism and conduct.¹⁰ It may negatively impact primary care specialties by propagating the connotation that primary care is simple care and promoting low compensation, lagging recruitment, and diminished respect.¹⁰ Finally, it is detrimental to patients by changing the nature of the relationship and failing to evoke the compassion and support that sick people (that is, patients) need and deserve.³

Last, use of this term can mislead patients. By law, a health care provider is defined as “a doctor of medicine or osteopathy who is authorized to practice medicine or surgery… or any other person determined by the Secretary [of Labor] to be capable of providing health care services,” which includes podiatrists, dentists, clinical psychologists, optometrists, chiropractors, nurse practitioners, nurse-midwives, clinical social workers, and physician assistants.¹⁷

When clinicians are categorized as providers rather than by their degrees and roles/responsibilities, patients may assume that all team members have equal training, interchangeable skills, and uniform expertise and knowledge and may conclude they can receive the same level of care from anyone.^8,10 Potential for confusion is increased by the nearly ubiquitous white laboratory coat in clinical settings and doctoral degrees attainable in different health care disciplines (eg, medicine, nursing, psychology, pharmacy, physical therapy). Patients deserve to know who does what on the team of professionals who care for them and may not be fully informed when requesting or receiving treatment if they are not provided important information, such as a clinician’s title, training, and scope of practice.^8,16

Reversing the Trend 

Increasing awareness among patients, their families, health professions students, and health care colleagues and administrators of the importance of traditional nomenclature is a first step in reversing this trend or mitigating its impact. If an overarching generic term is required, then health care professional, clinician, or practitioner are preferred.^10,12 Fifteen years ago, the Southern California Permanente Medical Group prohibited the use of the word provider to describe physicians, and its editorial style deemed it cold and institutional.¹⁶ Many, but not all, state, regional, or national medical associations and journals avoid provider in their names or titles.

I am encouraged that this journal—drawing its audience from several government health care agencies—is named Federal Practitioner rather than Federal Provider. This is reasonable and accurate, as practitioner refers to the practice of a profession, usually associated with health care.

I hope other professions can resist this trend. Lawyers are not considered legal aid providers, and teachers are not called knowledge providers.³ We do not refer to airline pilots as air transportation providers or musicians as instrument-playing melody providers. Many veterans likely would be offended if they were referred to as Constitution support and defense providers rather than by the military branch-specific titles that they earned through dedication, training, and sacrifice. The individuals in these examples demonstrate commitment to representing clients, educating students, flying passengers, playing instruments, or ensuring national defense. As health care professionals, our commitment to treating patients is equally important.⁴

Language matters when it comes to people feeling respected and achieving their full potential.¹ I encourage government health care agencies to stop referring to us as providers and resume using traditional nomenclature. This will demonstrate genuine respect for us, transparency for the patients we serve, and recognition that caring for the sick is a calling, not a commodity.

Dedication

The author dedicates this article to his father John E. Scarff, Jr, a physician and United States Army veteran.