Commentary

I have been studying, writing about, and treating posttraumatic stress disorder for many years. Over this time, I have seen PTSD expand to more and more areas of life, including my own view of a “subthreshold” version, which occurs in vulnerable people who experience a job loss, divorce, financial setbacks, or any number of painful life events.

As I noted in my recent book, “Find Freedom Fast,” for some people, PTSD can be triggered in the wake of events that are not life-threatening yet catastrophic for them and not tied to manmade or natural disasters, torture, assault, or war zone experiences.

The expansion of PTSD has led to the disorder being recognized in ICU patients during and after recovery (Crit Care Med. 2015 May;43[5]:1121-9), as well as in people diagnosed with cancer (Lancet Psychiatry. 2017 Apr;4[4]:330-8) and other illnesses that may cause emotional trauma – where one feels that one’s life is threatened. In some instances, the person’s life might indeed be in danger, not unlike what can happen in disasters, wars, torture, and even in some encounters with law enforcement.

This leads me to yet another circumstance that in some, may be tied to PTSD – and that is racial, religious, ethnic, and gender-related bigotry. In these cases, individuals feel threatened just for who they are in a society. Being on the receiving end of a circumstance that threatens a person’s very existence would seem to me to place a person as a potential survivor of PTSD, as well as any number of disorders, including anxiety, depression, or even paranoia.

Yes, discrimination and prejudice have been with us for a long time, and what concerns me is the psychological effect it has on children as well as adults. Friends of Irish descent remind me of hearing stories from parents and grandparents about employment signs reading, “Irish need not apply.” Certainly, those of Italian ancestry will easily recall the prejudice focused against them. And members of the Jewish community also can easily remember the bigotry and exclusion they have been subject to in certain neighborhoods and organizations, in addition to the horrors of the Holocaust during World War II, and the anti-Semitic chants in Charlottesville, Va., from just 3 years ago – with gun-carrying militants doing the chanting.

Obviously, in certain circles, we still have private clubs, plus neighborhoods and residential buildings that exclude people for a variety of reasons.

Coming from a medical family, years ago I heard stories that, if you were Roman Catholic, it would be hard to get into certain medical schools – which might explain the establishment of Catholic medical schools that often were open to people of other faiths. Then we had medical school discrimination toward Jewish students, which was followed by the establishment of medical schools focused on admitting more Jewish students. The African American community also responded to discrimination by establishing medical schools, such as the school at Howard University in Washington.

Furthermore, we cannot forget the discrimination that women faced in institutions of higher learning. My father had two women in his medical school class, I was told. In my era, I would say at least 30% were women, and today, in the United States, medical school classes are more equally balanced with men and women. Some schools have more women than men.

The question I ask, is: How did all those women feel for so many years knowing that, for reasons beyond their control, they were prevented from achieving their chosen goals? Some might have felt badly, and others might have internalized the rejection. Others might have developed PTSD based on feelings of rejection.

However, the question here mainly is: Can PTSD result when exclusion and prejudice induce fear and terror in those on the receiving end – especially innocent children? Children separated from their parents at the U.S.-Mexico border and those who witness their parents being shot immediately come to mind. This trauma can last well beyond childhood.

What we know today about structural racism should give the mental health community pause and make us realize the extent to which the African American community has been traumatized. Perhaps we should not be surprised by a study that found that the prevalence of PTSD among African Americans is 9.1%, compared with 6.8% for Whites (J Anxiety Dis. 2009 Jun;23[5]:573-90). Speaking with Black colleagues, friends, and patients, reading books such “The Warmth of Other Suns,” and watching films such as “Green Book,” give us a sense of how dangerous it was for Black families to travel in certain parts of the country in the recent past. I recall as a child hearing that, in Miami Beach, people of color could not stay overnight. (Even as a child I was surprised – having never heard anything like that. After all, I went to school with people of many religions and backgrounds. My parents thought those practices were terrible, and were appalled when they learned that some hotels were closed to Jews and others closed to Catholics.)
 

DSM-5, ICD-10 fall short

The DSM-5 describes trauma using a more or less one-dimensional set of guidelines as the focus. Those guidelines include exposure to direct violence, manmade or natural disasters, war, or torture, as well as exposure to a disaster or a life-threatening situation affecting a loved one. The ICD-10 is less restrictive about trauma but still has some limitations.

While considering potential PTSD, I try to use a less rigid diagnostic multidimensional approach, where I assess individual differences and experiences that play a role in those experiences as well as the patient’s vulnerability to the causation of PTSD – which also has to include any exposure to trauma (Curr Opin Psychol. 2017 Apr;14:29-34) before age 11 or 12. The data suggest that such early exposure leaves people more vulnerable to PTSD as adults (Soc Sci Med. 2018 Feb;199:230-40).

In my view, if individuals are frightened because of who they are – be it tied to their religion, race, sexual identity, or ethnicity – and what harm may come to them, and if they live in fear and avoidance of these potential traumatic situations that affect their mental stability and the way they live their lives, they might fit the PTSD model.

If we clinicians focus on what’s currently being brought vividly into the public eye today regarding the African American community, we would see that some of the ongoing fears of racism – whether tied to residential or workplace discrimination, unfair treatment by figures of authority, harassment, health inequities, or microaggressions – may give rise to PTSD. I know we can do better. We should broaden our definition and awareness of this very serious disorder – and be prepared to treat it.
 

Dr. London has been a practicing psychiatrist for 4 decades and a newspaper columnist for almost as long. He has a private practice in New York and is author of “Find Freedom Fast: Short-Term Therapy That Works” (New York: Kettlehole Publishing, 2019). Dr. London has no conflicts of interest.

I have been studying, writing about, and treating posttraumatic stress disorder for many years. Over this time, I have seen PTSD expand to more and more areas of life, including my own view of a “subthreshold” version, which occurs in vulnerable people who experience a job loss, divorce, financial setbacks, or any number of painful life events.

As I noted in my recent book, “Find Freedom Fast,” for some people, PTSD can be triggered in the wake of events that are not life-threatening yet catastrophic for them and not tied to manmade or natural disasters, torture, assault, or war zone experiences.

The expansion of PTSD has led to the disorder being recognized in ICU patients during and after recovery (Crit Care Med. 2015 May;43[5]:1121-9), as well as in people diagnosed with cancer (Lancet Psychiatry. 2017 Apr;4[4]:330-8) and other illnesses that may cause emotional trauma – where one feels that one’s life is threatened. In some instances, the person’s life might indeed be in danger, not unlike what can happen in disasters, wars, torture, and even in some encounters with law enforcement.

This leads me to yet another circumstance that in some, may be tied to PTSD – and that is racial, religious, ethnic, and gender-related bigotry. In these cases, individuals feel threatened just for who they are in a society. Being on the receiving end of a circumstance that threatens a person’s very existence would seem to me to place a person as a potential survivor of PTSD, as well as any number of disorders, including anxiety, depression, or even paranoia.

Yes, discrimination and prejudice have been with us for a long time, and what concerns me is the psychological effect it has on children as well as adults. Friends of Irish descent remind me of hearing stories from parents and grandparents about employment signs reading, “Irish need not apply.” Certainly, those of Italian ancestry will easily recall the prejudice focused against them. And members of the Jewish community also can easily remember the bigotry and exclusion they have been subject to in certain neighborhoods and organizations, in addition to the horrors of the Holocaust during World War II, and the anti-Semitic chants in Charlottesville, Va., from just 3 years ago – with gun-carrying militants doing the chanting.

Obviously, in certain circles, we still have private clubs, plus neighborhoods and residential buildings that exclude people for a variety of reasons.

Coming from a medical family, years ago I heard stories that, if you were Roman Catholic, it would be hard to get into certain medical schools – which might explain the establishment of Catholic medical schools that often were open to people of other faiths. Then we had medical school discrimination toward Jewish students, which was followed by the establishment of medical schools focused on admitting more Jewish students. The African American community also responded to discrimination by establishing medical schools, such as the school at Howard University in Washington.

Furthermore, we cannot forget the discrimination that women faced in institutions of higher learning. My father had two women in his medical school class, I was told. In my era, I would say at least 30% were women, and today, in the United States, medical school classes are more equally balanced with men and women. Some schools have more women than men.

The question I ask, is: How did all those women feel for so many years knowing that, for reasons beyond their control, they were prevented from achieving their chosen goals? Some might have felt badly, and others might have internalized the rejection. Others might have developed PTSD based on feelings of rejection.

However, the question here mainly is: Can PTSD result when exclusion and prejudice induce fear and terror in those on the receiving end – especially innocent children? Children separated from their parents at the U.S.-Mexico border and those who witness their parents being shot immediately come to mind. This trauma can last well beyond childhood.

What we know today about structural racism should give the mental health community pause and make us realize the extent to which the African American community has been traumatized. Perhaps we should not be surprised by a study that found that the prevalence of PTSD among African Americans is 9.1%, compared with 6.8% for Whites (J Anxiety Dis. 2009 Jun;23[5]:573-90). Speaking with Black colleagues, friends, and patients, reading books such “The Warmth of Other Suns,” and watching films such as “Green Book,” give us a sense of how dangerous it was for Black families to travel in certain parts of the country in the recent past. I recall as a child hearing that, in Miami Beach, people of color could not stay overnight. (Even as a child I was surprised – having never heard anything like that. After all, I went to school with people of many religions and backgrounds. My parents thought those practices were terrible, and were appalled when they learned that some hotels were closed to Jews and others closed to Catholics.)
 

DSM-5, ICD-10 fall short

The DSM-5 describes trauma using a more or less one-dimensional set of guidelines as the focus. Those guidelines include exposure to direct violence, manmade or natural disasters, war, or torture, as well as exposure to a disaster or a life-threatening situation affecting a loved one. The ICD-10 is less restrictive about trauma but still has some limitations.

While considering potential PTSD, I try to use a less rigid diagnostic multidimensional approach, where I assess individual differences and experiences that play a role in those experiences as well as the patient’s vulnerability to the causation of PTSD – which also has to include any exposure to trauma (Curr Opin Psychol. 2017 Apr;14:29-34) before age 11 or 12. The data suggest that such early exposure leaves people more vulnerable to PTSD as adults (Soc Sci Med. 2018 Feb;199:230-40).

In my view, if individuals are frightened because of who they are – be it tied to their religion, race, sexual identity, or ethnicity – and what harm may come to them, and if they live in fear and avoidance of these potential traumatic situations that affect their mental stability and the way they live their lives, they might fit the PTSD model.

If we clinicians focus on what’s currently being brought vividly into the public eye today regarding the African American community, we would see that some of the ongoing fears of racism – whether tied to residential or workplace discrimination, unfair treatment by figures of authority, harassment, health inequities, or microaggressions – may give rise to PTSD. I know we can do better. We should broaden our definition and awareness of this very serious disorder – and be prepared to treat it.
 

Dr. London has been a practicing psychiatrist for 4 decades and a newspaper columnist for almost as long. He has a private practice in New York and is author of “Find Freedom Fast: Short-Term Therapy That Works” (New York: Kettlehole Publishing, 2019). Dr. London has no conflicts of interest.

I have been studying, writing about, and treating posttraumatic stress disorder for many years. Over this time, I have seen PTSD expand to more and more areas of life, including my own view of a “subthreshold” version, which occurs in vulnerable people who experience a job loss, divorce, financial setbacks, or any number of painful life events.

As I noted in my recent book, “Find Freedom Fast,” for some people, PTSD can be triggered in the wake of events that are not life-threatening yet catastrophic for them and not tied to manmade or natural disasters, torture, assault, or war zone experiences.

The expansion of PTSD has led to the disorder being recognized in ICU patients during and after recovery (Crit Care Med. 2015 May;43[5]:1121-9), as well as in people diagnosed with cancer (Lancet Psychiatry. 2017 Apr;4[4]:330-8) and other illnesses that may cause emotional trauma – where one feels that one’s life is threatened. In some instances, the person’s life might indeed be in danger, not unlike what can happen in disasters, wars, torture, and even in some encounters with law enforcement.

This leads me to yet another circumstance that in some, may be tied to PTSD – and that is racial, religious, ethnic, and gender-related bigotry. In these cases, individuals feel threatened just for who they are in a society. Being on the receiving end of a circumstance that threatens a person’s very existence would seem to me to place a person as a potential survivor of PTSD, as well as any number of disorders, including anxiety, depression, or even paranoia.

Yes, discrimination and prejudice have been with us for a long time, and what concerns me is the psychological effect it has on children as well as adults. Friends of Irish descent remind me of hearing stories from parents and grandparents about employment signs reading, “Irish need not apply.” Certainly, those of Italian ancestry will easily recall the prejudice focused against them. And members of the Jewish community also can easily remember the bigotry and exclusion they have been subject to in certain neighborhoods and organizations, in addition to the horrors of the Holocaust during World War II, and the anti-Semitic chants in Charlottesville, Va., from just 3 years ago – with gun-carrying militants doing the chanting.

Obviously, in certain circles, we still have private clubs, plus neighborhoods and residential buildings that exclude people for a variety of reasons.

Coming from a medical family, years ago I heard stories that, if you were Roman Catholic, it would be hard to get into certain medical schools – which might explain the establishment of Catholic medical schools that often were open to people of other faiths. Then we had medical school discrimination toward Jewish students, which was followed by the establishment of medical schools focused on admitting more Jewish students. The African American community also responded to discrimination by establishing medical schools, such as the school at Howard University in Washington.

Furthermore, we cannot forget the discrimination that women faced in institutions of higher learning. My father had two women in his medical school class, I was told. In my era, I would say at least 30% were women, and today, in the United States, medical school classes are more equally balanced with men and women. Some schools have more women than men.

The question I ask, is: How did all those women feel for so many years knowing that, for reasons beyond their control, they were prevented from achieving their chosen goals? Some might have felt badly, and others might have internalized the rejection. Others might have developed PTSD based on feelings of rejection.

However, the question here mainly is: Can PTSD result when exclusion and prejudice induce fear and terror in those on the receiving end – especially innocent children? Children separated from their parents at the U.S.-Mexico border and those who witness their parents being shot immediately come to mind. This trauma can last well beyond childhood.

What we know today about structural racism should give the mental health community pause and make us realize the extent to which the African American community has been traumatized. Perhaps we should not be surprised by a study that found that the prevalence of PTSD among African Americans is 9.1%, compared with 6.8% for Whites (J Anxiety Dis. 2009 Jun;23[5]:573-90). Speaking with Black colleagues, friends, and patients, reading books such “The Warmth of Other Suns,” and watching films such as “Green Book,” give us a sense of how dangerous it was for Black families to travel in certain parts of the country in the recent past. I recall as a child hearing that, in Miami Beach, people of color could not stay overnight. (Even as a child I was surprised – having never heard anything like that. After all, I went to school with people of many religions and backgrounds. My parents thought those practices were terrible, and were appalled when they learned that some hotels were closed to Jews and others closed to Catholics.)
 

DSM-5, ICD-10 fall short

The DSM-5 describes trauma using a more or less one-dimensional set of guidelines as the focus. Those guidelines include exposure to direct violence, manmade or natural disasters, war, or torture, as well as exposure to a disaster or a life-threatening situation affecting a loved one. The ICD-10 is less restrictive about trauma but still has some limitations.

While considering potential PTSD, I try to use a less rigid diagnostic multidimensional approach, where I assess individual differences and experiences that play a role in those experiences as well as the patient’s vulnerability to the causation of PTSD – which also has to include any exposure to trauma (Curr Opin Psychol. 2017 Apr;14:29-34) before age 11 or 12. The data suggest that such early exposure leaves people more vulnerable to PTSD as adults (Soc Sci Med. 2018 Feb;199:230-40).

In my view, if individuals are frightened because of who they are – be it tied to their religion, race, sexual identity, or ethnicity – and what harm may come to them, and if they live in fear and avoidance of these potential traumatic situations that affect their mental stability and the way they live their lives, they might fit the PTSD model.

If we clinicians focus on what’s currently being brought vividly into the public eye today regarding the African American community, we would see that some of the ongoing fears of racism – whether tied to residential or workplace discrimination, unfair treatment by figures of authority, harassment, health inequities, or microaggressions – may give rise to PTSD. I know we can do better. We should broaden our definition and awareness of this very serious disorder – and be prepared to treat it.
 

Dr. London has been a practicing psychiatrist for 4 decades and a newspaper columnist for almost as long. He has a private practice in New York and is author of “Find Freedom Fast: Short-Term Therapy That Works” (New York: Kettlehole Publishing, 2019). Dr. London has no conflicts of interest.

Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) has spread across all 7 continents, including 185 countries, and infected more than 21.9 million individuals worldwide as of August 18, 2020, according to the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center. It has strained our health care system and affected all specialties, including dermatology. Dermatologists have taken important safety measures by canceling/deferring elective and nonemergency procedures and diagnosing/treating patients via telemedicine. Many residents and attending dermatologists have volunteered to care for COVID-19 inpatients and donated personal protective equipment (PPE) to hospitals reporting shortages.¹ As we prepare to treat increasing numbers of in-office patients, there will be a critical need for PPE. We highlight the use of 3-dimensional (3D) imaging and printing technologies as it applies to the dermatology outpatient setting.

N95 masks are necessary during the COVID-19 pandemic because they effectively filter at least 95% of 0.3-μm airborne particles and provide adequate face seals.¹ 3-Dimensional imaging integrated with 3D printers can be used to scan precise facial parameters (eg, jawline, nose) and account for facial hair density and length to produce comfortable tailored N95 masks and face seals.^1,2 3-Dimensional printing utilizes robotics and computer-aided design systems to layer and deposit biomaterials, thereby creating cost-effective, customizable, mechanically stable, and biocompatible constructs.^1,3 An ideal 3D-printed N95 mask would be printed via fused deposition modeling, consisting of a combination of lightweight and fatigue-resistant biomaterials, including electrostatic nonwoven polypropylene and styrene-(ethylene-butylene)-styrene.^1,4 The resulting masks, made from industrial-grade raw materials, are practical alternatives for dermatology practices with insufficient supplies.

Face shields offer an additional layer of safety for the face and mucosae and also may provide longevity for N95 masks. Using synthetic polymers such as polycarbonate and polyethylene, 3D printers can be used to construct face shields via fused deposition modeling.¹ These face shields may be worn over N95 masks and then can be sanitized and reused.

Mohs surgeons and staff may be at particularly high risk for COVID-19 infection due to their close proximity to the face during surgery, use of cautery, and prolonged time spent with patients while taking layers and suturing. Multispectral optoacoustic tomography is a noninvasive imaging tool that can map skin tumors via optical contrast with accuracy comparable to histologic measurements.⁵ 3-Dimensional facial imaging and printing can be used to calculate tumor surface area for customized masks, leaving sufficient skin for excision and reconstruction. Patient face coverings would cover the nose and mouth, only expose relevant areas near the excision site, and include adjustable/removable ear loops for tumors localized to the ears. A schematic of how 3D technologies can be applied for Mohs micrographic surgery is provided in the Figure.

Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) has spread across all 7 continents, including 185 countries, and infected more than 21.9 million individuals worldwide as of August 18, 2020, according to the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center. It has strained our health care system and affected all specialties, including dermatology. Dermatologists have taken important safety measures by canceling/deferring elective and nonemergency procedures and diagnosing/treating patients via telemedicine. Many residents and attending dermatologists have volunteered to care for COVID-19 inpatients and donated personal protective equipment (PPE) to hospitals reporting shortages.¹ As we prepare to treat increasing numbers of in-office patients, there will be a critical need for PPE. We highlight the use of 3-dimensional (3D) imaging and printing technologies as it applies to the dermatology outpatient setting.

N95 masks are necessary during the COVID-19 pandemic because they effectively filter at least 95% of 0.3-μm airborne particles and provide adequate face seals.¹ 3-Dimensional imaging integrated with 3D printers can be used to scan precise facial parameters (eg, jawline, nose) and account for facial hair density and length to produce comfortable tailored N95 masks and face seals.^1,2 3-Dimensional printing utilizes robotics and computer-aided design systems to layer and deposit biomaterials, thereby creating cost-effective, customizable, mechanically stable, and biocompatible constructs.^1,3 An ideal 3D-printed N95 mask would be printed via fused deposition modeling, consisting of a combination of lightweight and fatigue-resistant biomaterials, including electrostatic nonwoven polypropylene and styrene-(ethylene-butylene)-styrene.^1,4 The resulting masks, made from industrial-grade raw materials, are practical alternatives for dermatology practices with insufficient supplies.

Face shields offer an additional layer of safety for the face and mucosae and also may provide longevity for N95 masks. Using synthetic polymers such as polycarbonate and polyethylene, 3D printers can be used to construct face shields via fused deposition modeling.¹ These face shields may be worn over N95 masks and then can be sanitized and reused.

Mohs surgeons and staff may be at particularly high risk for COVID-19 infection due to their close proximity to the face during surgery, use of cautery, and prolonged time spent with patients while taking layers and suturing. Multispectral optoacoustic tomography is a noninvasive imaging tool that can map skin tumors via optical contrast with accuracy comparable to histologic measurements.⁵ 3-Dimensional facial imaging and printing can be used to calculate tumor surface area for customized masks, leaving sufficient skin for excision and reconstruction. Patient face coverings would cover the nose and mouth, only expose relevant areas near the excision site, and include adjustable/removable ear loops for tumors localized to the ears. A schematic of how 3D technologies can be applied for Mohs micrographic surgery is provided in the Figure.

Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) has spread across all 7 continents, including 185 countries, and infected more than 21.9 million individuals worldwide as of August 18, 2020, according to the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center. It has strained our health care system and affected all specialties, including dermatology. Dermatologists have taken important safety measures by canceling/deferring elective and nonemergency procedures and diagnosing/treating patients via telemedicine. Many residents and attending dermatologists have volunteered to care for COVID-19 inpatients and donated personal protective equipment (PPE) to hospitals reporting shortages.¹ As we prepare to treat increasing numbers of in-office patients, there will be a critical need for PPE. We highlight the use of 3-dimensional (3D) imaging and printing technologies as it applies to the dermatology outpatient setting.

N95 masks are necessary during the COVID-19 pandemic because they effectively filter at least 95% of 0.3-μm airborne particles and provide adequate face seals.¹ 3-Dimensional imaging integrated with 3D printers can be used to scan precise facial parameters (eg, jawline, nose) and account for facial hair density and length to produce comfortable tailored N95 masks and face seals.^1,2 3-Dimensional printing utilizes robotics and computer-aided design systems to layer and deposit biomaterials, thereby creating cost-effective, customizable, mechanically stable, and biocompatible constructs.^1,3 An ideal 3D-printed N95 mask would be printed via fused deposition modeling, consisting of a combination of lightweight and fatigue-resistant biomaterials, including electrostatic nonwoven polypropylene and styrene-(ethylene-butylene)-styrene.^1,4 The resulting masks, made from industrial-grade raw materials, are practical alternatives for dermatology practices with insufficient supplies.

Face shields offer an additional layer of safety for the face and mucosae and also may provide longevity for N95 masks. Using synthetic polymers such as polycarbonate and polyethylene, 3D printers can be used to construct face shields via fused deposition modeling.¹ These face shields may be worn over N95 masks and then can be sanitized and reused.

Mohs surgeons and staff may be at particularly high risk for COVID-19 infection due to their close proximity to the face during surgery, use of cautery, and prolonged time spent with patients while taking layers and suturing. Multispectral optoacoustic tomography is a noninvasive imaging tool that can map skin tumors via optical contrast with accuracy comparable to histologic measurements.⁵ 3-Dimensional facial imaging and printing can be used to calculate tumor surface area for customized masks, leaving sufficient skin for excision and reconstruction. Patient face coverings would cover the nose and mouth, only expose relevant areas near the excision site, and include adjustable/removable ear loops for tumors localized to the ears. A schematic of how 3D technologies can be applied for Mohs micrographic surgery is provided in the Figure.

It is a brand-new day for the treatment of children with severe inflammatory skin diseases. Not coincidentally, it also is a new day for the treatment of atopic dermatitis (AD). Why?

Historically, children have largely been ignored by pharmaceutical companies and the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Drug trials of new medications have been the exclusive province of adults; therefore, information they have generated has had only derivative relevance to the pediatric population. Pediatricians and providers who care for children, aware that they are not simply “little adults,” have been forced to extrapolate best practices.

My institution is poised to enroll a 3-year-old child with severe AD into a biologic trial (ClinicalTrials.gov identifier NCT03346434). The age range for this study is 6 months to 6 years. This extraordinary democratization of clinical trials is no accident. The Best Pharmaceuticals for Children Act, which was passed in 2002, was a first step. This legislation incentivized pharmaceutical companies to include children, who are notoriously more costly to study for myriad reasons, by extending patent protection for approved medications. Subsequent efforts spearheaded by advocacy groups such as the National Eczema Association included the production of guidance documents for industry¹ and presentations directly to the FDA’s Dermatologic and Ophthalmic Drugs Advisory Committee meeting punctuated by powerful patient testimonials.²

Serendipitously, AD, a disease that presents by kindergarten in up to 90% of affected individuals, also has caught the eye of the pharmaceutical industry. Remarkable advances in the understanding of AD inflammation have led to an explosion of new therapeutic targets of interest. By way of context, between the introduction of topical calcineurin inhibitors in 2001 and the FDA approval of dupilumab and crisaborole in 2017, there were precisely zero new molecules approved for the treatment of AD. Viewed through another lens, prior to 2017, the only FDA-approved systemic medication for AD was prednisone, a drug most AD experts would list as the least appropriate choice for treatment of this condition.

Fast-forward to 2020 and we have a plethora of new possibilities. The National Eczema Association’s research web page (https://nationaleczema.org/research/eczema-treatment-research/) reveals no fewer than 24 systemic agents in phase 2 development or beyond, including selective IL-13 inhibitors such as tralokinumab and lebrikizumab; Janus kinase inhibitors such as baricitinib³; and novel targets such as histamine 4 (ZPL-3893787), IL-31 (nemolizumab), and thymic stromal lymphopoietin. This list does not even include other biologics being repurposed for AD (eg, omalizumab⁴) or a host of exciting new topical agents (eg, tapinarof).

This confluence of better science, powerful advocacy, and enlightened self-interest has been revolutionary. It is most evident when parents/guardians—many of whom had long ago given up on new therapies for themselves—are gobsmacked by the new therapeutic landscape outlined for their children. Parents/guardians realize their children need not struggle as they may have themselves. The impact on quality of life has long been known, but several recent publications have brought it into finer relief. Drucker et al⁵ highlighted the overall burden of disease, and several subsequent papers have focused specifically on affective impacts including increased risk for depression, suicidal ideation, and suicide.^6,7 In this issue of Cutis, Tracy et al⁸ provide an update on pediatric AD with an emphasis on comorbidities, quality of life, and evolving practices and therapies.

Better science, better drugs, better advocacy, better outcomes—it has not been a straight line, but it has indisputably been a forward-marching one. It is a new day, indeed.

It is a brand-new day for the treatment of children with severe inflammatory skin diseases. Not coincidentally, it also is a new day for the treatment of atopic dermatitis (AD). Why?

Historically, children have largely been ignored by pharmaceutical companies and the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Drug trials of new medications have been the exclusive province of adults; therefore, information they have generated has had only derivative relevance to the pediatric population. Pediatricians and providers who care for children, aware that they are not simply “little adults,” have been forced to extrapolate best practices.

My institution is poised to enroll a 3-year-old child with severe AD into a biologic trial (ClinicalTrials.gov identifier NCT03346434). The age range for this study is 6 months to 6 years. This extraordinary democratization of clinical trials is no accident. The Best Pharmaceuticals for Children Act, which was passed in 2002, was a first step. This legislation incentivized pharmaceutical companies to include children, who are notoriously more costly to study for myriad reasons, by extending patent protection for approved medications. Subsequent efforts spearheaded by advocacy groups such as the National Eczema Association included the production of guidance documents for industry¹ and presentations directly to the FDA’s Dermatologic and Ophthalmic Drugs Advisory Committee meeting punctuated by powerful patient testimonials.²

Serendipitously, AD, a disease that presents by kindergarten in up to 90% of affected individuals, also has caught the eye of the pharmaceutical industry. Remarkable advances in the understanding of AD inflammation have led to an explosion of new therapeutic targets of interest. By way of context, between the introduction of topical calcineurin inhibitors in 2001 and the FDA approval of dupilumab and crisaborole in 2017, there were precisely zero new molecules approved for the treatment of AD. Viewed through another lens, prior to 2017, the only FDA-approved systemic medication for AD was prednisone, a drug most AD experts would list as the least appropriate choice for treatment of this condition.

Fast-forward to 2020 and we have a plethora of new possibilities. The National Eczema Association’s research web page (https://nationaleczema.org/research/eczema-treatment-research/) reveals no fewer than 24 systemic agents in phase 2 development or beyond, including selective IL-13 inhibitors such as tralokinumab and lebrikizumab; Janus kinase inhibitors such as baricitinib³; and novel targets such as histamine 4 (ZPL-3893787), IL-31 (nemolizumab), and thymic stromal lymphopoietin. This list does not even include other biologics being repurposed for AD (eg, omalizumab⁴) or a host of exciting new topical agents (eg, tapinarof).

This confluence of better science, powerful advocacy, and enlightened self-interest has been revolutionary. It is most evident when parents/guardians—many of whom had long ago given up on new therapies for themselves—are gobsmacked by the new therapeutic landscape outlined for their children. Parents/guardians realize their children need not struggle as they may have themselves. The impact on quality of life has long been known, but several recent publications have brought it into finer relief. Drucker et al⁵ highlighted the overall burden of disease, and several subsequent papers have focused specifically on affective impacts including increased risk for depression, suicidal ideation, and suicide.^6,7 In this issue of Cutis, Tracy et al⁸ provide an update on pediatric AD with an emphasis on comorbidities, quality of life, and evolving practices and therapies.

Better science, better drugs, better advocacy, better outcomes—it has not been a straight line, but it has indisputably been a forward-marching one. It is a new day, indeed.

It is a brand-new day for the treatment of children with severe inflammatory skin diseases. Not coincidentally, it also is a new day for the treatment of atopic dermatitis (AD). Why?

Historically, children have largely been ignored by pharmaceutical companies and the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Drug trials of new medications have been the exclusive province of adults; therefore, information they have generated has had only derivative relevance to the pediatric population. Pediatricians and providers who care for children, aware that they are not simply “little adults,” have been forced to extrapolate best practices.

My institution is poised to enroll a 3-year-old child with severe AD into a biologic trial (ClinicalTrials.gov identifier NCT03346434). The age range for this study is 6 months to 6 years. This extraordinary democratization of clinical trials is no accident. The Best Pharmaceuticals for Children Act, which was passed in 2002, was a first step. This legislation incentivized pharmaceutical companies to include children, who are notoriously more costly to study for myriad reasons, by extending patent protection for approved medications. Subsequent efforts spearheaded by advocacy groups such as the National Eczema Association included the production of guidance documents for industry¹ and presentations directly to the FDA’s Dermatologic and Ophthalmic Drugs Advisory Committee meeting punctuated by powerful patient testimonials.²

Serendipitously, AD, a disease that presents by kindergarten in up to 90% of affected individuals, also has caught the eye of the pharmaceutical industry. Remarkable advances in the understanding of AD inflammation have led to an explosion of new therapeutic targets of interest. By way of context, between the introduction of topical calcineurin inhibitors in 2001 and the FDA approval of dupilumab and crisaborole in 2017, there were precisely zero new molecules approved for the treatment of AD. Viewed through another lens, prior to 2017, the only FDA-approved systemic medication for AD was prednisone, a drug most AD experts would list as the least appropriate choice for treatment of this condition.

Fast-forward to 2020 and we have a plethora of new possibilities. The National Eczema Association’s research web page (https://nationaleczema.org/research/eczema-treatment-research/) reveals no fewer than 24 systemic agents in phase 2 development or beyond, including selective IL-13 inhibitors such as tralokinumab and lebrikizumab; Janus kinase inhibitors such as baricitinib³; and novel targets such as histamine 4 (ZPL-3893787), IL-31 (nemolizumab), and thymic stromal lymphopoietin. This list does not even include other biologics being repurposed for AD (eg, omalizumab⁴) or a host of exciting new topical agents (eg, tapinarof).

This confluence of better science, powerful advocacy, and enlightened self-interest has been revolutionary. It is most evident when parents/guardians—many of whom had long ago given up on new therapies for themselves—are gobsmacked by the new therapeutic landscape outlined for their children. Parents/guardians realize their children need not struggle as they may have themselves. The impact on quality of life has long been known, but several recent publications have brought it into finer relief. Drucker et al⁵ highlighted the overall burden of disease, and several subsequent papers have focused specifically on affective impacts including increased risk for depression, suicidal ideation, and suicide.^6,7 In this issue of Cutis, Tracy et al⁸ provide an update on pediatric AD with an emphasis on comorbidities, quality of life, and evolving practices and therapies.

Better science, better drugs, better advocacy, better outcomes—it has not been a straight line, but it has indisputably been a forward-marching one. It is a new day, indeed.

Mifepristone is a safe, effective, and well-tolerated medication for managing miscarriage and for medical abortion when combined with misoprostol.^1,2 Since the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approved its use in 2000, more than 4 million women have used this medication.³ The combination of mifepristone with misoprostol was used for 39% of all US abortions in 2017.⁴ Approximately 10% of all clinically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriages, and many are safely managed with either misoprostol alone or with the combination of mifepristone and misoprostol.⁵
 

The issue

The prescription and distribution of mifepristone is highly regulated by the FDA via requirements outlined in the Risk Evaluation and Mitigation Strategies (REMS) drug safety program. The FDA may determine a REMS is necessary for a specific drug to ensure the benefits of a drug outweigh the potential risks. A REMS may include an informative package insert for patients, follow-up communication to prescribers—including letters, safety protocols or recommended laboratory tests, or Elements to Assure Safe Use (ETASU). ETASU are types of REMS that are placed on medications that have significant potential for serious adverse effects, and without such restrictions FDA approval would be rescinded.

Are mifepristone requirements fairly applied?

The 3 ETASU restrictions on the distribution of mifepristone are in-person dispensation, prescriber certification, and patient signatures on special forms.⁶ The in-person dispensing requirement is applied to only 16 other medications (one of which is Mifeprex, the brand version of mifepristone), and Mifeprex/mifepristone are the only ones deemed safe for self-administration—meaning that patients receive the drug from a clinic but then may take it at a site of their choosing. The prescriber certification requirement places expectations on providers to account for distribution of doses and keep records of serial numbers (in effect, having clinicians act as both physician and pharmacist, as most medications are distributed and recorded in pharmacies). The patient form was recommended for elimination in 2016 due to its duplicative information and burden on patients—a recommendation that was then overruled by the FDA commissioner.⁷

These 3 requirements placed on mifepristone specifically target dosages for use related to abortions and miscarriages. Mifepristone is used to treat other medical conditions, with much higher doses, without the same restrictions—in fact, the FDA has allowed much higher doses of mifepristone to be mailed directly to a patient when prescribed for different disorders. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) has long opposed the burdensome REMS requirements on mifepristone for reproductive health indications.⁸

Arguments regarding the safety of mifepristone must be understood in the context of how the medication is taken, and the unique difference with other medications that must be administered by physicians or in health care facilities. Mifepristone is self-administered, and the desired effect—evacuation of uterine contents—typically occurs after a patient takes the accompanying medication misoprostol, which is some 24 to 72 hours later. This timeframe makes it highly unlikely that any patient would be in the presence of their provider at the time of medication effect, thus an in-person dispensing requirement has no medical bearing on the outcome of the health of the patient. 

REMS changes during the COVID-19 pandemic

The coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic has necessarily changed the structure of REMS and ETASU requirements for many medications, with changes made in order to mitigate viral transmission through the limitation of unnecessary visits to clinics or hospitals. The FDA announced in March of 2020 that it would not enforce pre-prescription requirements, such as laboratory or magnetic resonance imaging results, for many medications (including those more toxic than mifepristone), and that it would lift the requirement for in-person dispensation of several medications.⁹ Also in March 2020 the Department of Health and Human Services Secretary (HHS) and the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) activated a “telemedicine exception” to allow physicians to use telemedicine to satisfy mandatory requirements for prescribing controlled substances, including opioids.¹⁰

Despite repeated pleas from organizations, individuals, and physician groups, the FDA continued to enforce the REMS/ETASU for mifepristone as the pandemic decimated communities. Importantly, the pandemic has not had an equal effect on all communities, and the disparities highlighted in outcomes as related to COVID-19 are also reflected in disparities to access to reproductive choices.¹¹ By enforcing REMS/ETASU for mifepristone during a global pandemic, the FDA has placed additional burden on women and people who menstruate. As offices and clinics have closed, and as many jobs have evaporated, additional barriers have emerged, such as lack of childcare, fewer transportation options, and decreased clinic appointments. 

As the pandemic continues to affect communities in the United States, ACOG has issued guidance recommending assessment for eligibility for medical abortion remotely, and has encouraged the use of telemedicine and other remote interactions for its members and patients to limit transmission of the virus. 

The lawsuit

On May 27, 2020, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) (on behalf of ACOG, the Council of University Chairs of Obstetrics and Gynecology, New York State Academy of Family Physicians, SisterSong, and Honor MacNaughton, MD) filed a civil action against the FDA and HHS challenging the requirement for in-person dispensing of mifepristone and associated ETASU requirements during the COVID-19 pandemic. The plaintiffs sought this injunction based on the claim that these restrictions during the pandemic infringe on the constitutional rights to patients’ privacy and liberty and to equal protection of the law as protected by the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment. Additionally, the ACLU and other organizations said these unnecessary restrictions place patients, providers, and staff at unnecessary risk of viral exposure amidst a global pandemic.

The verdict

On July 13, 2020, a federal court granted the preliminary injunction to suspend FDA’s enforcement of the in-person requirements of mifepristone for abortion during the COVID-19 pandemic. The court denied the motion for suspension of in-person restrictions as applied to miscarriage management. The preliminary injunction applies nationwide without geographic limitation. It will remain in effect until the end of the litigation or for 30 days following the expiration of the public health emergency.

What the outcome means

This injunction is a step in the right direction for patients and providers to allow for autonomy and clinical practice guided by clinician expertise. However, this ruling remains narrow. Patients must be counseled about mifepristone via telemedicine and sign a Patient Agreement Form, which must be returned electronically or by mail.  Patients must receive a copy of the mifepristone medication guide, and dispensing of mifepristone must still be conducted by or under the supervision of a certified provider. The medication may not be dispensed by retail pharmacies, thus requiring providers to arrange for mailing of prescriptions to patients. Given state-based legal statutes regarding mailing of medications, this injunction may not lead to an immediate increase in access to care. In addition, patients seeking management for miscarriage must go to clinic to have mifepristone dispensed and thus risk exposure to viral transmission. 

What now?

The regulation of mifepristone—in spite of excellent safety and specifically for the narrow purpose of administration in the setting of abortion and miscarriage care—is by definition a discriminatory practice against patients and providers. As clinicians, we are duty-bound to speak out against injustices to our practices and our patients. At a local level, we can work to implement safe practices in the setting of this injunction and continue to work on a national level to ensure this injunction becomes permanent and with more broad scope to eliminate all of the REMS requirements for mifepristone.

ACTION ITEMS

• Act locally! Are you an abortion provider? Contact your local ACLU (find them here) or lawyer in your area for assistance navigating the legal landscape to prescribe after this injunction. 
• Act statewide! Press candidates in your state to stand up for science and data. Support legislative acts and bills that address combating discriminatory regulations.
• Act nationally! The President is responsible for appointing the Commissioner of the FDA and the Secretary of Health and Human Services (with Senate advice and consent). Who we elect matters. Seek out opportunities to become involved in increasing access to and awareness of voter registration and Election Day, and speak out against voter suppression. Make sure you are registered to vote here and check your area to review new recommendations amidst the pandemic.

Mifepristone is a safe, effective, and well-tolerated medication for managing miscarriage and for medical abortion when combined with misoprostol.^1,2 Since the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approved its use in 2000, more than 4 million women have used this medication.³ The combination of mifepristone with misoprostol was used for 39% of all US abortions in 2017.⁴ Approximately 10% of all clinically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriages, and many are safely managed with either misoprostol alone or with the combination of mifepristone and misoprostol.⁵
 

The issue

The prescription and distribution of mifepristone is highly regulated by the FDA via requirements outlined in the Risk Evaluation and Mitigation Strategies (REMS) drug safety program. The FDA may determine a REMS is necessary for a specific drug to ensure the benefits of a drug outweigh the potential risks. A REMS may include an informative package insert for patients, follow-up communication to prescribers—including letters, safety protocols or recommended laboratory tests, or Elements to Assure Safe Use (ETASU). ETASU are types of REMS that are placed on medications that have significant potential for serious adverse effects, and without such restrictions FDA approval would be rescinded.

Are mifepristone requirements fairly applied?

The 3 ETASU restrictions on the distribution of mifepristone are in-person dispensation, prescriber certification, and patient signatures on special forms.⁶ The in-person dispensing requirement is applied to only 16 other medications (one of which is Mifeprex, the brand version of mifepristone), and Mifeprex/mifepristone are the only ones deemed safe for self-administration—meaning that patients receive the drug from a clinic but then may take it at a site of their choosing. The prescriber certification requirement places expectations on providers to account for distribution of doses and keep records of serial numbers (in effect, having clinicians act as both physician and pharmacist, as most medications are distributed and recorded in pharmacies). The patient form was recommended for elimination in 2016 due to its duplicative information and burden on patients—a recommendation that was then overruled by the FDA commissioner.⁷

These 3 requirements placed on mifepristone specifically target dosages for use related to abortions and miscarriages. Mifepristone is used to treat other medical conditions, with much higher doses, without the same restrictions—in fact, the FDA has allowed much higher doses of mifepristone to be mailed directly to a patient when prescribed for different disorders. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) has long opposed the burdensome REMS requirements on mifepristone for reproductive health indications.⁸

Arguments regarding the safety of mifepristone must be understood in the context of how the medication is taken, and the unique difference with other medications that must be administered by physicians or in health care facilities. Mifepristone is self-administered, and the desired effect—evacuation of uterine contents—typically occurs after a patient takes the accompanying medication misoprostol, which is some 24 to 72 hours later. This timeframe makes it highly unlikely that any patient would be in the presence of their provider at the time of medication effect, thus an in-person dispensing requirement has no medical bearing on the outcome of the health of the patient. 

REMS changes during the COVID-19 pandemic

The coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic has necessarily changed the structure of REMS and ETASU requirements for many medications, with changes made in order to mitigate viral transmission through the limitation of unnecessary visits to clinics or hospitals. The FDA announced in March of 2020 that it would not enforce pre-prescription requirements, such as laboratory or magnetic resonance imaging results, for many medications (including those more toxic than mifepristone), and that it would lift the requirement for in-person dispensation of several medications.⁹ Also in March 2020 the Department of Health and Human Services Secretary (HHS) and the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) activated a “telemedicine exception” to allow physicians to use telemedicine to satisfy mandatory requirements for prescribing controlled substances, including opioids.¹⁰

Despite repeated pleas from organizations, individuals, and physician groups, the FDA continued to enforce the REMS/ETASU for mifepristone as the pandemic decimated communities. Importantly, the pandemic has not had an equal effect on all communities, and the disparities highlighted in outcomes as related to COVID-19 are also reflected in disparities to access to reproductive choices.¹¹ By enforcing REMS/ETASU for mifepristone during a global pandemic, the FDA has placed additional burden on women and people who menstruate. As offices and clinics have closed, and as many jobs have evaporated, additional barriers have emerged, such as lack of childcare, fewer transportation options, and decreased clinic appointments. 

As the pandemic continues to affect communities in the United States, ACOG has issued guidance recommending assessment for eligibility for medical abortion remotely, and has encouraged the use of telemedicine and other remote interactions for its members and patients to limit transmission of the virus. 

The lawsuit

On May 27, 2020, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) (on behalf of ACOG, the Council of University Chairs of Obstetrics and Gynecology, New York State Academy of Family Physicians, SisterSong, and Honor MacNaughton, MD) filed a civil action against the FDA and HHS challenging the requirement for in-person dispensing of mifepristone and associated ETASU requirements during the COVID-19 pandemic. The plaintiffs sought this injunction based on the claim that these restrictions during the pandemic infringe on the constitutional rights to patients’ privacy and liberty and to equal protection of the law as protected by the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment. Additionally, the ACLU and other organizations said these unnecessary restrictions place patients, providers, and staff at unnecessary risk of viral exposure amidst a global pandemic.

The verdict

On July 13, 2020, a federal court granted the preliminary injunction to suspend FDA’s enforcement of the in-person requirements of mifepristone for abortion during the COVID-19 pandemic. The court denied the motion for suspension of in-person restrictions as applied to miscarriage management. The preliminary injunction applies nationwide without geographic limitation. It will remain in effect until the end of the litigation or for 30 days following the expiration of the public health emergency.

What the outcome means

This injunction is a step in the right direction for patients and providers to allow for autonomy and clinical practice guided by clinician expertise. However, this ruling remains narrow. Patients must be counseled about mifepristone via telemedicine and sign a Patient Agreement Form, which must be returned electronically or by mail.  Patients must receive a copy of the mifepristone medication guide, and dispensing of mifepristone must still be conducted by or under the supervision of a certified provider. The medication may not be dispensed by retail pharmacies, thus requiring providers to arrange for mailing of prescriptions to patients. Given state-based legal statutes regarding mailing of medications, this injunction may not lead to an immediate increase in access to care. In addition, patients seeking management for miscarriage must go to clinic to have mifepristone dispensed and thus risk exposure to viral transmission. 

What now?

The regulation of mifepristone—in spite of excellent safety and specifically for the narrow purpose of administration in the setting of abortion and miscarriage care—is by definition a discriminatory practice against patients and providers. As clinicians, we are duty-bound to speak out against injustices to our practices and our patients. At a local level, we can work to implement safe practices in the setting of this injunction and continue to work on a national level to ensure this injunction becomes permanent and with more broad scope to eliminate all of the REMS requirements for mifepristone.

ACTION ITEMS

• Act locally! Are you an abortion provider? Contact your local ACLU (find them here) or lawyer in your area for assistance navigating the legal landscape to prescribe after this injunction. 
• Act statewide! Press candidates in your state to stand up for science and data. Support legislative acts and bills that address combating discriminatory regulations.
• Act nationally! The President is responsible for appointing the Commissioner of the FDA and the Secretary of Health and Human Services (with Senate advice and consent). Who we elect matters. Seek out opportunities to become involved in increasing access to and awareness of voter registration and Election Day, and speak out against voter suppression. Make sure you are registered to vote here and check your area to review new recommendations amidst the pandemic.

Mifepristone is a safe, effective, and well-tolerated medication for managing miscarriage and for medical abortion when combined with misoprostol.^1,2 Since the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approved its use in 2000, more than 4 million women have used this medication.³ The combination of mifepristone with misoprostol was used for 39% of all US abortions in 2017.⁴ Approximately 10% of all clinically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriages, and many are safely managed with either misoprostol alone or with the combination of mifepristone and misoprostol.⁵
 

The issue

The prescription and distribution of mifepristone is highly regulated by the FDA via requirements outlined in the Risk Evaluation and Mitigation Strategies (REMS) drug safety program. The FDA may determine a REMS is necessary for a specific drug to ensure the benefits of a drug outweigh the potential risks. A REMS may include an informative package insert for patients, follow-up communication to prescribers—including letters, safety protocols or recommended laboratory tests, or Elements to Assure Safe Use (ETASU). ETASU are types of REMS that are placed on medications that have significant potential for serious adverse effects, and without such restrictions FDA approval would be rescinded.

Are mifepristone requirements fairly applied?

The 3 ETASU restrictions on the distribution of mifepristone are in-person dispensation, prescriber certification, and patient signatures on special forms.⁶ The in-person dispensing requirement is applied to only 16 other medications (one of which is Mifeprex, the brand version of mifepristone), and Mifeprex/mifepristone are the only ones deemed safe for self-administration—meaning that patients receive the drug from a clinic but then may take it at a site of their choosing. The prescriber certification requirement places expectations on providers to account for distribution of doses and keep records of serial numbers (in effect, having clinicians act as both physician and pharmacist, as most medications are distributed and recorded in pharmacies). The patient form was recommended for elimination in 2016 due to its duplicative information and burden on patients—a recommendation that was then overruled by the FDA commissioner.⁷

These 3 requirements placed on mifepristone specifically target dosages for use related to abortions and miscarriages. Mifepristone is used to treat other medical conditions, with much higher doses, without the same restrictions—in fact, the FDA has allowed much higher doses of mifepristone to be mailed directly to a patient when prescribed for different disorders. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) has long opposed the burdensome REMS requirements on mifepristone for reproductive health indications.⁸

Arguments regarding the safety of mifepristone must be understood in the context of how the medication is taken, and the unique difference with other medications that must be administered by physicians or in health care facilities. Mifepristone is self-administered, and the desired effect—evacuation of uterine contents—typically occurs after a patient takes the accompanying medication misoprostol, which is some 24 to 72 hours later. This timeframe makes it highly unlikely that any patient would be in the presence of their provider at the time of medication effect, thus an in-person dispensing requirement has no medical bearing on the outcome of the health of the patient. 

REMS changes during the COVID-19 pandemic

The coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic has necessarily changed the structure of REMS and ETASU requirements for many medications, with changes made in order to mitigate viral transmission through the limitation of unnecessary visits to clinics or hospitals. The FDA announced in March of 2020 that it would not enforce pre-prescription requirements, such as laboratory or magnetic resonance imaging results, for many medications (including those more toxic than mifepristone), and that it would lift the requirement for in-person dispensation of several medications.⁹ Also in March 2020 the Department of Health and Human Services Secretary (HHS) and the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) activated a “telemedicine exception” to allow physicians to use telemedicine to satisfy mandatory requirements for prescribing controlled substances, including opioids.¹⁰

Despite repeated pleas from organizations, individuals, and physician groups, the FDA continued to enforce the REMS/ETASU for mifepristone as the pandemic decimated communities. Importantly, the pandemic has not had an equal effect on all communities, and the disparities highlighted in outcomes as related to COVID-19 are also reflected in disparities to access to reproductive choices.¹¹ By enforcing REMS/ETASU for mifepristone during a global pandemic, the FDA has placed additional burden on women and people who menstruate. As offices and clinics have closed, and as many jobs have evaporated, additional barriers have emerged, such as lack of childcare, fewer transportation options, and decreased clinic appointments. 

As the pandemic continues to affect communities in the United States, ACOG has issued guidance recommending assessment for eligibility for medical abortion remotely, and has encouraged the use of telemedicine and other remote interactions for its members and patients to limit transmission of the virus. 

The lawsuit

On May 27, 2020, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) (on behalf of ACOG, the Council of University Chairs of Obstetrics and Gynecology, New York State Academy of Family Physicians, SisterSong, and Honor MacNaughton, MD) filed a civil action against the FDA and HHS challenging the requirement for in-person dispensing of mifepristone and associated ETASU requirements during the COVID-19 pandemic. The plaintiffs sought this injunction based on the claim that these restrictions during the pandemic infringe on the constitutional rights to patients’ privacy and liberty and to equal protection of the law as protected by the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment. Additionally, the ACLU and other organizations said these unnecessary restrictions place patients, providers, and staff at unnecessary risk of viral exposure amidst a global pandemic.

The verdict

On July 13, 2020, a federal court granted the preliminary injunction to suspend FDA’s enforcement of the in-person requirements of mifepristone for abortion during the COVID-19 pandemic. The court denied the motion for suspension of in-person restrictions as applied to miscarriage management. The preliminary injunction applies nationwide without geographic limitation. It will remain in effect until the end of the litigation or for 30 days following the expiration of the public health emergency.

What the outcome means

This injunction is a step in the right direction for patients and providers to allow for autonomy and clinical practice guided by clinician expertise. However, this ruling remains narrow. Patients must be counseled about mifepristone via telemedicine and sign a Patient Agreement Form, which must be returned electronically or by mail.  Patients must receive a copy of the mifepristone medication guide, and dispensing of mifepristone must still be conducted by or under the supervision of a certified provider. The medication may not be dispensed by retail pharmacies, thus requiring providers to arrange for mailing of prescriptions to patients. Given state-based legal statutes regarding mailing of medications, this injunction may not lead to an immediate increase in access to care. In addition, patients seeking management for miscarriage must go to clinic to have mifepristone dispensed and thus risk exposure to viral transmission. 

What now?

The regulation of mifepristone—in spite of excellent safety and specifically for the narrow purpose of administration in the setting of abortion and miscarriage care—is by definition a discriminatory practice against patients and providers. As clinicians, we are duty-bound to speak out against injustices to our practices and our patients. At a local level, we can work to implement safe practices in the setting of this injunction and continue to work on a national level to ensure this injunction becomes permanent and with more broad scope to eliminate all of the REMS requirements for mifepristone.

ACTION ITEMS

• Act locally! Are you an abortion provider? Contact your local ACLU (find them here) or lawyer in your area for assistance navigating the legal landscape to prescribe after this injunction. 
• Act statewide! Press candidates in your state to stand up for science and data. Support legislative acts and bills that address combating discriminatory regulations.
• Act nationally! The President is responsible for appointing the Commissioner of the FDA and the Secretary of Health and Human Services (with Senate advice and consent). Who we elect matters. Seek out opportunities to become involved in increasing access to and awareness of voter registration and Election Day, and speak out against voter suppression. Make sure you are registered to vote here and check your area to review new recommendations amidst the pandemic.

In this issue of JFP, there is an extraordinarily valuable PURL (Priority Updates from the Research Literature) for you. PURLs^® are written by academic family physicians who comb through volumes of research to identify and then summarize for JFP important studies we believe should change your practice. After reading a PURL, you may find that you have already implemented this new evidence into your practice. In that case, the PURL confirms that you are doing the right thing.

We should all tell our patients to take their BP medication in the evening from now on. What could be an easier way to reduce CV morbidity and mortality?

Here is the good news from this month’s PURL: Having patients take their blood pressure (BP) medication in the evening, rather than in the morning, leads not only to better BP control but also to a reduction in cardiovascular events.¹ How large is this effect? This simple intervention nearly cut in half the number of major cardiovascular events—including myocardial infarction, stroke, and congestive heart failure—and the risk for death from a cardiovascular event was reduced 56%. The number needed to treat to prevent 1 major cardiovascular event over the course of 6.3 years was 20. That means this intervention is more powerful than taking a statin!

The investigators, who call this intervention “chronotherapy” since it takes into account the body’s circadian rhythms, have been studying the effect of this simple intervention for many years, and this large randomized trial provides very strong evidence that it’s effective. Despite the excellent trial design and execution, some cardiovascular researchers have questioned the integrity of the trial and believe patients should continue to take their antihypertensives in the morning.² The main investigator of the study, however, has provided a very strong rebuttal in print.³

I am delighted to see the positive results of this definitive trial of chronotherapy for hypertension. When these investigators published their first randomized trial of chronotherapy in 2010,⁴ which demonstrated a significant BP reduction with evening dosing of antihypertensives, I began telling all of my patients to take at least 1 of their antihypertensive meds in the evening. Maybe I was jumping the gun at that time, but we should all tell our patients to take their BP medication in the evening from now on. What could be an easier way to reduce cardiovascular morbidity and mortality?

In this issue of JFP, there is an extraordinarily valuable PURL (Priority Updates from the Research Literature) for you. PURLs^® are written by academic family physicians who comb through volumes of research to identify and then summarize for JFP important studies we believe should change your practice. After reading a PURL, you may find that you have already implemented this new evidence into your practice. In that case, the PURL confirms that you are doing the right thing.

We should all tell our patients to take their BP medication in the evening from now on. What could be an easier way to reduce CV morbidity and mortality?

Here is the good news from this month’s PURL: Having patients take their blood pressure (BP) medication in the evening, rather than in the morning, leads not only to better BP control but also to a reduction in cardiovascular events.¹ How large is this effect? This simple intervention nearly cut in half the number of major cardiovascular events—including myocardial infarction, stroke, and congestive heart failure—and the risk for death from a cardiovascular event was reduced 56%. The number needed to treat to prevent 1 major cardiovascular event over the course of 6.3 years was 20. That means this intervention is more powerful than taking a statin!

The investigators, who call this intervention “chronotherapy” since it takes into account the body’s circadian rhythms, have been studying the effect of this simple intervention for many years, and this large randomized trial provides very strong evidence that it’s effective. Despite the excellent trial design and execution, some cardiovascular researchers have questioned the integrity of the trial and believe patients should continue to take their antihypertensives in the morning.² The main investigator of the study, however, has provided a very strong rebuttal in print.³

I am delighted to see the positive results of this definitive trial of chronotherapy for hypertension. When these investigators published their first randomized trial of chronotherapy in 2010,⁴ which demonstrated a significant BP reduction with evening dosing of antihypertensives, I began telling all of my patients to take at least 1 of their antihypertensive meds in the evening. Maybe I was jumping the gun at that time, but we should all tell our patients to take their BP medication in the evening from now on. What could be an easier way to reduce cardiovascular morbidity and mortality?

In this issue of JFP, there is an extraordinarily valuable PURL (Priority Updates from the Research Literature) for you. PURLs^® are written by academic family physicians who comb through volumes of research to identify and then summarize for JFP important studies we believe should change your practice. After reading a PURL, you may find that you have already implemented this new evidence into your practice. In that case, the PURL confirms that you are doing the right thing.

We should all tell our patients to take their BP medication in the evening from now on. What could be an easier way to reduce CV morbidity and mortality?

Here is the good news from this month’s PURL: Having patients take their blood pressure (BP) medication in the evening, rather than in the morning, leads not only to better BP control but also to a reduction in cardiovascular events.¹ How large is this effect? This simple intervention nearly cut in half the number of major cardiovascular events—including myocardial infarction, stroke, and congestive heart failure—and the risk for death from a cardiovascular event was reduced 56%. The number needed to treat to prevent 1 major cardiovascular event over the course of 6.3 years was 20. That means this intervention is more powerful than taking a statin!

The investigators, who call this intervention “chronotherapy” since it takes into account the body’s circadian rhythms, have been studying the effect of this simple intervention for many years, and this large randomized trial provides very strong evidence that it’s effective. Despite the excellent trial design and execution, some cardiovascular researchers have questioned the integrity of the trial and believe patients should continue to take their antihypertensives in the morning.² The main investigator of the study, however, has provided a very strong rebuttal in print.³

I am delighted to see the positive results of this definitive trial of chronotherapy for hypertension. When these investigators published their first randomized trial of chronotherapy in 2010,⁴ which demonstrated a significant BP reduction with evening dosing of antihypertensives, I began telling all of my patients to take at least 1 of their antihypertensive meds in the evening. Maybe I was jumping the gun at that time, but we should all tell our patients to take their BP medication in the evening from now on. What could be an easier way to reduce cardiovascular morbidity and mortality?

Aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (AWP) is a condition characterized by excessive wrinkling and sudden appearance or aggravation of white papules and plaques localized to the palms upon exposure to water. This eruption can be accompanied by a mild burning or tingling sensation, which will subside with the rest of the symptoms in minutes to hours after drying.¹

AWP is most frequently associated with cystic fibrosis (CF).² It can be observed in up to 80% of CF patients and is considered a clinical sign of the disease. AWP can be present in CF carriers to a lesser extent,^2,4 and has also been associated with focal hyperhidrosis, atopic dermatitis, Raynaud phenomenon, and COX-2 inhibitor use.⁵

While a definitive cause is unknown, it is thought that AWP is caused by dysregulation of sweat glands in the palms through increased expression of aquaporin, a protein crucial in the transport of water between cells.³

AWP is quite rare and benign in nature. However, because of its strong association with CF, genetic screening should be considered in asymptomatic patients. Our patient had been screened in the past and is not a CF carrier. Often, the itching or burning associated with CF is mild and easily controlled. The patient was placed on low dose isotretinoin for treatment of her acne. Interestingly, the patient claimed her eruption no longer appeared after starting isotretinoin therapy. To our knowledge, this is the first reported case of AWP resolving with isotretinoin use.

This case and photo were submitted by Mr. Birk, University of Texas, Austin, Texas; and Dr. Mamelak, Sanova Dermatology, in Austin. Donna Bilu Martin, MD, edited the column.

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

References

1. Katz M, Ramot Y. CMAJ. 2015 Dec 8;187(18):E515.

2. Tolland JP et al. Dermatology. 2010;221(4):326-30.

3. Kabashima K et al. J Am Acad Dermatol. 2008 Aug;59(2 Suppl 1):S28-32.

4. Gild R et al. Br J Dermatol. 2010 Nov;163(5):1082-4.

5. Glatz M and Muellegger RR. BMJ Case Rep. 2014. doi: 10.1136/bcr-2014-203929.

Aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (AWP) is a condition characterized by excessive wrinkling and sudden appearance or aggravation of white papules and plaques localized to the palms upon exposure to water. This eruption can be accompanied by a mild burning or tingling sensation, which will subside with the rest of the symptoms in minutes to hours after drying.¹

AWP is most frequently associated with cystic fibrosis (CF).² It can be observed in up to 80% of CF patients and is considered a clinical sign of the disease. AWP can be present in CF carriers to a lesser extent,^2,4 and has also been associated with focal hyperhidrosis, atopic dermatitis, Raynaud phenomenon, and COX-2 inhibitor use.⁵

While a definitive cause is unknown, it is thought that AWP is caused by dysregulation of sweat glands in the palms through increased expression of aquaporin, a protein crucial in the transport of water between cells.³

AWP is quite rare and benign in nature. However, because of its strong association with CF, genetic screening should be considered in asymptomatic patients. Our patient had been screened in the past and is not a CF carrier. Often, the itching or burning associated with CF is mild and easily controlled. The patient was placed on low dose isotretinoin for treatment of her acne. Interestingly, the patient claimed her eruption no longer appeared after starting isotretinoin therapy. To our knowledge, this is the first reported case of AWP resolving with isotretinoin use.

This case and photo were submitted by Mr. Birk, University of Texas, Austin, Texas; and Dr. Mamelak, Sanova Dermatology, in Austin. Donna Bilu Martin, MD, edited the column.

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

References

1. Katz M, Ramot Y. CMAJ. 2015 Dec 8;187(18):E515.

2. Tolland JP et al. Dermatology. 2010;221(4):326-30.

3. Kabashima K et al. J Am Acad Dermatol. 2008 Aug;59(2 Suppl 1):S28-32.

4. Gild R et al. Br J Dermatol. 2010 Nov;163(5):1082-4.

5. Glatz M and Muellegger RR. BMJ Case Rep. 2014. doi: 10.1136/bcr-2014-203929.

Aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (AWP) is a condition characterized by excessive wrinkling and sudden appearance or aggravation of white papules and plaques localized to the palms upon exposure to water. This eruption can be accompanied by a mild burning or tingling sensation, which will subside with the rest of the symptoms in minutes to hours after drying.¹

AWP is most frequently associated with cystic fibrosis (CF).² It can be observed in up to 80% of CF patients and is considered a clinical sign of the disease. AWP can be present in CF carriers to a lesser extent,^2,4 and has also been associated with focal hyperhidrosis, atopic dermatitis, Raynaud phenomenon, and COX-2 inhibitor use.⁵

While a definitive cause is unknown, it is thought that AWP is caused by dysregulation of sweat glands in the palms through increased expression of aquaporin, a protein crucial in the transport of water between cells.³

AWP is quite rare and benign in nature. However, because of its strong association with CF, genetic screening should be considered in asymptomatic patients. Our patient had been screened in the past and is not a CF carrier. Often, the itching or burning associated with CF is mild and easily controlled. The patient was placed on low dose isotretinoin for treatment of her acne. Interestingly, the patient claimed her eruption no longer appeared after starting isotretinoin therapy. To our knowledge, this is the first reported case of AWP resolving with isotretinoin use.

This case and photo were submitted by Mr. Birk, University of Texas, Austin, Texas; and Dr. Mamelak, Sanova Dermatology, in Austin. Donna Bilu Martin, MD, edited the column.

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

References

1. Katz M, Ramot Y. CMAJ. 2015 Dec 8;187(18):E515.

2. Tolland JP et al. Dermatology. 2010;221(4):326-30.

3. Kabashima K et al. J Am Acad Dermatol. 2008 Aug;59(2 Suppl 1):S28-32.

4. Gild R et al. Br J Dermatol. 2010 Nov;163(5):1082-4.

5. Glatz M and Muellegger RR. BMJ Case Rep. 2014. doi: 10.1136/bcr-2014-203929.

In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, the virtual medical meeting is now the norm. And while it’s admirable that key data are being disseminated (often for free), there is no escaping the fact that it is a fundamentally different and lesser experience.

Watching from home, most of us split our attention between live streams of the meeting and work and family obligations. There is far less urgency when early live presentations are recorded and can be viewed later.

In terms of discussing the data, Twitter may offer broader participation than a live meeting, yet only a small number of attendees actively engage online.

And the exhibit halls for these online meetings? With neither free coffee nor company-branded tchotchkes, I expect that they have virtual tumbleweeds blowing through and crickets chirping.

Even still, the virtual meeting experience, while inferior to the live one, is a tremendous advance. It should never be banished as a historical footnote but rather should remain an option. It’s analogous to watching the Super Bowl at home: Obviously, it’s not the same as being there, but it’s a terrific alternative. Like telemedicine, this pandemic has provided a critical proof of concept that there is a better model.
 

Reshaping the medical meeting

Let’s consider five reasons why medical meetings should be permanently reshaped by this pandemic.

This pandemic isn’t going away in 2020. While nearly every country has done a far better job than the United States of containing COVID-19 thus far, outbreaks remain a problem wherever crowds assemble. You’d be hard-pressed to devise a setting more conducive to mass spread than a conference of 20,000 attendees from all over the world sitting alongside each other cheek to jowl for 5 days. Worse yet is the thought of them returning home and infecting their patients, families, and friends. What medical society wants to be remembered for creating a COVID-19 superspreader event? Professional medical societies will need to offer this option as the safest alternative moving forward.

Virtual learning still conveys the most important content. Despite the many social benefits of a live meeting, its core purpose is to disseminate new research and current and emerging treatment options. Virtual meetings have proven that this format can effectively deliver the content, and not as a secondary offering but as the sole platform in real time.

Virtual learning levels the playing field. Traveling to attend conferences typically costs thousands of dollars, accounting for the registration fees, inflated hotel rates, ground transportation, and meals out for days on end. Most meetings also demand several days away from our work and families, forcing many of us to work extra in the days before we leave and upon our return. Parents and those with commitments at home also face special challenges. For international participants, the financial and time costs are even greater. A virtual meeting helps overcome these hurdles and erases barriers that have long precluded many from attending a conference.

Virtual learning is efficient and comfortable. Virtual meetings over the past 6 months have given us a glimpse of an astonishingly more efficient form. If the content seems of a lower magnitude without the fanfare of a live conference, it is in part because so much of a live meeting is spent walking a mile between session rooms, waiting in concession or taxi lines, sitting in traffic between venues, or simply waiting for a session to begin. All of that has been replaced with time that you can use productively in between video sessions viewed either live or on demand. And with a virtual meeting, you can comfortably watch the sessions. There’s no need to stand along the back wall of an overcrowded room or step over 10 people to squeeze into an open middle seat. You can be focused, rather than having an end-of-day presentation wash over you as your eyes cross because you’ve been running around for the past 12 hours.

Virtual learning and social media will only improve. While virtual meetings unquestionably have limitations, it’s important to acknowledge that the successes thus far still represent only the earliest forays into this endeavor. In-person meetings evolved to their present form over centuries. In contrast, virtual meetings are being cobbled together within a few weeks or months. They can only be expected to improve as presenters adapt their skills to the online audience and new tools improve virtual discussions.

I am not implying that live meetings will or should be replaced by virtual ones. We still need that experience of trainees and experts presenting to a live audience and discussing the results together, all while sharing the energy of the moment. But there should be room for both a live conference and a virtual version.

Practically speaking, it is unclear whether professional societies could forgo the revenue they receive from registration fees, meeting sponsorships, and corporate exhibits. Yet, there are certainly ways to obtain sponsorship revenue for a virtual program. Even if the virtual version of a conference costs far less than attending in person, there is plenty of room between that number and free. It costs remarkably little for a professional society to share its content, and virtual offerings further the mission of distributing this content broadly.

We should not rush to return to the previous status quo. Despite their limitations, virtual meetings have brought a new, higher standard of access and efficiency for sharing important new data and treatment options in medicine.

H. Jack West, MD, associate clinical professor and executive director of employer services at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center in Duarte, Calif., regularly comments on lung cancer for Medscape. West serves as web editor for JAMA Oncology, edits and writes several sections on lung cancer for UpToDate, and leads a wide range of continuing education programs and other educational programs, including hosting the audio podcast West Wind.

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, the virtual medical meeting is now the norm. And while it’s admirable that key data are being disseminated (often for free), there is no escaping the fact that it is a fundamentally different and lesser experience.

Watching from home, most of us split our attention between live streams of the meeting and work and family obligations. There is far less urgency when early live presentations are recorded and can be viewed later.

In terms of discussing the data, Twitter may offer broader participation than a live meeting, yet only a small number of attendees actively engage online.

And the exhibit halls for these online meetings? With neither free coffee nor company-branded tchotchkes, I expect that they have virtual tumbleweeds blowing through and crickets chirping.

Even still, the virtual meeting experience, while inferior to the live one, is a tremendous advance. It should never be banished as a historical footnote but rather should remain an option. It’s analogous to watching the Super Bowl at home: Obviously, it’s not the same as being there, but it’s a terrific alternative. Like telemedicine, this pandemic has provided a critical proof of concept that there is a better model.
 

Reshaping the medical meeting

Let’s consider five reasons why medical meetings should be permanently reshaped by this pandemic.

This pandemic isn’t going away in 2020. While nearly every country has done a far better job than the United States of containing COVID-19 thus far, outbreaks remain a problem wherever crowds assemble. You’d be hard-pressed to devise a setting more conducive to mass spread than a conference of 20,000 attendees from all over the world sitting alongside each other cheek to jowl for 5 days. Worse yet is the thought of them returning home and infecting their patients, families, and friends. What medical society wants to be remembered for creating a COVID-19 superspreader event? Professional medical societies will need to offer this option as the safest alternative moving forward.

Virtual learning still conveys the most important content. Despite the many social benefits of a live meeting, its core purpose is to disseminate new research and current and emerging treatment options. Virtual meetings have proven that this format can effectively deliver the content, and not as a secondary offering but as the sole platform in real time.

Virtual learning levels the playing field. Traveling to attend conferences typically costs thousands of dollars, accounting for the registration fees, inflated hotel rates, ground transportation, and meals out for days on end. Most meetings also demand several days away from our work and families, forcing many of us to work extra in the days before we leave and upon our return. Parents and those with commitments at home also face special challenges. For international participants, the financial and time costs are even greater. A virtual meeting helps overcome these hurdles and erases barriers that have long precluded many from attending a conference.

Virtual learning is efficient and comfortable. Virtual meetings over the past 6 months have given us a glimpse of an astonishingly more efficient form. If the content seems of a lower magnitude without the fanfare of a live conference, it is in part because so much of a live meeting is spent walking a mile between session rooms, waiting in concession or taxi lines, sitting in traffic between venues, or simply waiting for a session to begin. All of that has been replaced with time that you can use productively in between video sessions viewed either live or on demand. And with a virtual meeting, you can comfortably watch the sessions. There’s no need to stand along the back wall of an overcrowded room or step over 10 people to squeeze into an open middle seat. You can be focused, rather than having an end-of-day presentation wash over you as your eyes cross because you’ve been running around for the past 12 hours.

Virtual learning and social media will only improve. While virtual meetings unquestionably have limitations, it’s important to acknowledge that the successes thus far still represent only the earliest forays into this endeavor. In-person meetings evolved to their present form over centuries. In contrast, virtual meetings are being cobbled together within a few weeks or months. They can only be expected to improve as presenters adapt their skills to the online audience and new tools improve virtual discussions.

I am not implying that live meetings will or should be replaced by virtual ones. We still need that experience of trainees and experts presenting to a live audience and discussing the results together, all while sharing the energy of the moment. But there should be room for both a live conference and a virtual version.

Practically speaking, it is unclear whether professional societies could forgo the revenue they receive from registration fees, meeting sponsorships, and corporate exhibits. Yet, there are certainly ways to obtain sponsorship revenue for a virtual program. Even if the virtual version of a conference costs far less than attending in person, there is plenty of room between that number and free. It costs remarkably little for a professional society to share its content, and virtual offerings further the mission of distributing this content broadly.

We should not rush to return to the previous status quo. Despite their limitations, virtual meetings have brought a new, higher standard of access and efficiency for sharing important new data and treatment options in medicine.

H. Jack West, MD, associate clinical professor and executive director of employer services at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center in Duarte, Calif., regularly comments on lung cancer for Medscape. West serves as web editor for JAMA Oncology, edits and writes several sections on lung cancer for UpToDate, and leads a wide range of continuing education programs and other educational programs, including hosting the audio podcast West Wind.

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, the virtual medical meeting is now the norm. And while it’s admirable that key data are being disseminated (often for free), there is no escaping the fact that it is a fundamentally different and lesser experience.

Watching from home, most of us split our attention between live streams of the meeting and work and family obligations. There is far less urgency when early live presentations are recorded and can be viewed later.

In terms of discussing the data, Twitter may offer broader participation than a live meeting, yet only a small number of attendees actively engage online.

And the exhibit halls for these online meetings? With neither free coffee nor company-branded tchotchkes, I expect that they have virtual tumbleweeds blowing through and crickets chirping.

Even still, the virtual meeting experience, while inferior to the live one, is a tremendous advance. It should never be banished as a historical footnote but rather should remain an option. It’s analogous to watching the Super Bowl at home: Obviously, it’s not the same as being there, but it’s a terrific alternative. Like telemedicine, this pandemic has provided a critical proof of concept that there is a better model.
 

Reshaping the medical meeting

Let’s consider five reasons why medical meetings should be permanently reshaped by this pandemic.

This pandemic isn’t going away in 2020. While nearly every country has done a far better job than the United States of containing COVID-19 thus far, outbreaks remain a problem wherever crowds assemble. You’d be hard-pressed to devise a setting more conducive to mass spread than a conference of 20,000 attendees from all over the world sitting alongside each other cheek to jowl for 5 days. Worse yet is the thought of them returning home and infecting their patients, families, and friends. What medical society wants to be remembered for creating a COVID-19 superspreader event? Professional medical societies will need to offer this option as the safest alternative moving forward.

Virtual learning still conveys the most important content. Despite the many social benefits of a live meeting, its core purpose is to disseminate new research and current and emerging treatment options. Virtual meetings have proven that this format can effectively deliver the content, and not as a secondary offering but as the sole platform in real time.

Virtual learning levels the playing field. Traveling to attend conferences typically costs thousands of dollars, accounting for the registration fees, inflated hotel rates, ground transportation, and meals out for days on end. Most meetings also demand several days away from our work and families, forcing many of us to work extra in the days before we leave and upon our return. Parents and those with commitments at home also face special challenges. For international participants, the financial and time costs are even greater. A virtual meeting helps overcome these hurdles and erases barriers that have long precluded many from attending a conference.

Virtual learning is efficient and comfortable. Virtual meetings over the past 6 months have given us a glimpse of an astonishingly more efficient form. If the content seems of a lower magnitude without the fanfare of a live conference, it is in part because so much of a live meeting is spent walking a mile between session rooms, waiting in concession or taxi lines, sitting in traffic between venues, or simply waiting for a session to begin. All of that has been replaced with time that you can use productively in between video sessions viewed either live or on demand. And with a virtual meeting, you can comfortably watch the sessions. There’s no need to stand along the back wall of an overcrowded room or step over 10 people to squeeze into an open middle seat. You can be focused, rather than having an end-of-day presentation wash over you as your eyes cross because you’ve been running around for the past 12 hours.

Virtual learning and social media will only improve. While virtual meetings unquestionably have limitations, it’s important to acknowledge that the successes thus far still represent only the earliest forays into this endeavor. In-person meetings evolved to their present form over centuries. In contrast, virtual meetings are being cobbled together within a few weeks or months. They can only be expected to improve as presenters adapt their skills to the online audience and new tools improve virtual discussions.

I am not implying that live meetings will or should be replaced by virtual ones. We still need that experience of trainees and experts presenting to a live audience and discussing the results together, all while sharing the energy of the moment. But there should be room for both a live conference and a virtual version.

Practically speaking, it is unclear whether professional societies could forgo the revenue they receive from registration fees, meeting sponsorships, and corporate exhibits. Yet, there are certainly ways to obtain sponsorship revenue for a virtual program. Even if the virtual version of a conference costs far less than attending in person, there is plenty of room between that number and free. It costs remarkably little for a professional society to share its content, and virtual offerings further the mission of distributing this content broadly.

We should not rush to return to the previous status quo. Despite their limitations, virtual meetings have brought a new, higher standard of access and efficiency for sharing important new data and treatment options in medicine.

H. Jack West, MD, associate clinical professor and executive director of employer services at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center in Duarte, Calif., regularly comments on lung cancer for Medscape. West serves as web editor for JAMA Oncology, edits and writes several sections on lung cancer for UpToDate, and leads a wide range of continuing education programs and other educational programs, including hosting the audio podcast West Wind.

This article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Like most family medicine residencies, our teaching nursing home was struck with a COVID-19 outbreak. Within 10 days, I was the sole physician responsible for 15 patients with varying degrees of illness, quarantined behind the fire doors of a wing of a Memory Support Unit. My daily work there over the course of the next month prompted me to reflect on some of the core principles of family medicine, and health care, that are vital to effective patient care during a pandemic. My experience provided the following reminders:

Work as a team. Gowned, gloved, and masked behind the fire doors, our world shrank to our patients and a 4-person team comprised of a nurse, 2 nursing assistants, and me. For the first time in the 10+ years I’ve worked at that facility, I actually asked for and memorized the names of everyone I was working with that day. Without an intercom or other telecommunications system, it became important for me to be able to call for my team members by name for immediate help. We had to depend on one another to make sure all patients were hydrated and fed, to avert falls whenever possible, to intervene early when dementia-­associated behaviors were escalating, and to recognize when patients were crashing.

I began asking for the names of everyone I was working with that day and I observed, first-hand, the great finesse that nurses display in their efforts to de-escalate disruptive behaviors.

We also had to depend on each other to ensure that our personal protective equipment remained properly placed, to combat the psychological sense of isolation that quarantine environments engender, and to placate a gnawing undercurrent of unease while working around a potentially deadly pathogen.

Develop clinical routines. Having listened to other medical directors whose nursing homes were affected by the pandemic earlier than we were, and hearing about potentially avoidable complications, we developed clinical routines. This began with identifying any patients with diabetes whose poor appetites while acutely ill could send them into hypoglycemia. We devised a daily clinical report sheet that included vital signs, date of positive COVID-19 test, global clinical status, and advance directives. Unlike the usual mode of working almost in parallel, I began my workday with a “sign-out” from the nurse, then started examining each patient.

Under the strain of this unusual environment and novel circumstances, we communicated more and more often. This allowed us to quickly recognize and communicate emerging changes in the clinical status of a patient by sharing our observations of subtle, nonspecific “sub-threshold” indicators.

Clarify the goals of care. Since most of the patients in the COVID-19 unit were under the long-term care of other attending physicians, it was important for me to understand the wishes of the patient or surrogate decision maker, should life-threatening complications occur. While all affected patients were long-term residents of a memory support unit, some had full-code advance directives. I quickly realized that what was first necessary was to develop rapport and trust with the families who didn’t know me, then discuss goals of care, and finally assure that the advance directives were in congruence with their stated goals. What helped families gain trust in me was knowing that I was seeing their loved one daily, that I was committed to helping the patient survive this infection, and that I was willing to come back to the facility if a crisis occurred—even at night, if necessary.

Appreciate the daily work of team members. One of my greatest worries was dehydration. When elders were acutely ill and eating and drinking poorly, I would assist with feeding and offering liquids. I quickly came to appreciate how complex and subtle this seemingly mundane task can be. Learning the proper pace and portion size, even choosing the right conversation topic and tone, could make the difference between a patient “shutting down” and refusing all nourishment and successfully drinking a 360-cc cup of a high-nutrient shake.

Continue to: In the disrupted routines...

In the disrupted routines and altered physical environments of the COVID-19 unit, the psychological and behavioral complications of dementia intensified for some patients. I observed first-hand the great patience, kindness, and finesse that nurses and nursing assistants display in their efforts to de-escalate and prevent disruptive behaviors.

Empathize with (and appreciate) families. Families tearfully reminded me that they had been suffering from the absence of contact with their loved ones for months; COVID-19 added to that trauma for many of them. They talked about the missed graduations, birthdays, and other precious times together that were lost because of the quarantine.

Families also prevented me from making mistakes. When I ordered nitrofurantoin for a patient with a urinary tract infection, her son called me and respectfully requested I “just check and make sure” it would not cause a problem, given her G6PD deficiency. He prevented me from prescribing an antibiotic contraindicated in that condition.

Bring forward the lessons learned. The COVID-19 outbreak has passed through our nursing home—at least for now. I perceive a subtle shift in how we continue to interact with one another. Behind the masks, we make a little more eye contact; we more often address each other by name; and we acknowledge a greater mutual respect.

The shared experience of COVID-19 has brought us all a little closer together, and in the end, our patients have benefitted.

Like most family medicine residencies, our teaching nursing home was struck with a COVID-19 outbreak. Within 10 days, I was the sole physician responsible for 15 patients with varying degrees of illness, quarantined behind the fire doors of a wing of a Memory Support Unit. My daily work there over the course of the next month prompted me to reflect on some of the core principles of family medicine, and health care, that are vital to effective patient care during a pandemic. My experience provided the following reminders:

Work as a team. Gowned, gloved, and masked behind the fire doors, our world shrank to our patients and a 4-person team comprised of a nurse, 2 nursing assistants, and me. For the first time in the 10+ years I’ve worked at that facility, I actually asked for and memorized the names of everyone I was working with that day. Without an intercom or other telecommunications system, it became important for me to be able to call for my team members by name for immediate help. We had to depend on one another to make sure all patients were hydrated and fed, to avert falls whenever possible, to intervene early when dementia-­associated behaviors were escalating, and to recognize when patients were crashing.

I began asking for the names of everyone I was working with that day and I observed, first-hand, the great finesse that nurses display in their efforts to de-escalate disruptive behaviors.

We also had to depend on each other to ensure that our personal protective equipment remained properly placed, to combat the psychological sense of isolation that quarantine environments engender, and to placate a gnawing undercurrent of unease while working around a potentially deadly pathogen.

Develop clinical routines. Having listened to other medical directors whose nursing homes were affected by the pandemic earlier than we were, and hearing about potentially avoidable complications, we developed clinical routines. This began with identifying any patients with diabetes whose poor appetites while acutely ill could send them into hypoglycemia. We devised a daily clinical report sheet that included vital signs, date of positive COVID-19 test, global clinical status, and advance directives. Unlike the usual mode of working almost in parallel, I began my workday with a “sign-out” from the nurse, then started examining each patient.

Under the strain of this unusual environment and novel circumstances, we communicated more and more often. This allowed us to quickly recognize and communicate emerging changes in the clinical status of a patient by sharing our observations of subtle, nonspecific “sub-threshold” indicators.

Clarify the goals of care. Since most of the patients in the COVID-19 unit were under the long-term care of other attending physicians, it was important for me to understand the wishes of the patient or surrogate decision maker, should life-threatening complications occur. While all affected patients were long-term residents of a memory support unit, some had full-code advance directives. I quickly realized that what was first necessary was to develop rapport and trust with the families who didn’t know me, then discuss goals of care, and finally assure that the advance directives were in congruence with their stated goals. What helped families gain trust in me was knowing that I was seeing their loved one daily, that I was committed to helping the patient survive this infection, and that I was willing to come back to the facility if a crisis occurred—even at night, if necessary.

Appreciate the daily work of team members. One of my greatest worries was dehydration. When elders were acutely ill and eating and drinking poorly, I would assist with feeding and offering liquids. I quickly came to appreciate how complex and subtle this seemingly mundane task can be. Learning the proper pace and portion size, even choosing the right conversation topic and tone, could make the difference between a patient “shutting down” and refusing all nourishment and successfully drinking a 360-cc cup of a high-nutrient shake.

Continue to: In the disrupted routines...

In the disrupted routines and altered physical environments of the COVID-19 unit, the psychological and behavioral complications of dementia intensified for some patients. I observed first-hand the great patience, kindness, and finesse that nurses and nursing assistants display in their efforts to de-escalate and prevent disruptive behaviors.

Empathize with (and appreciate) families. Families tearfully reminded me that they had been suffering from the absence of contact with their loved ones for months; COVID-19 added to that trauma for many of them. They talked about the missed graduations, birthdays, and other precious times together that were lost because of the quarantine.

Families also prevented me from making mistakes. When I ordered nitrofurantoin for a patient with a urinary tract infection, her son called me and respectfully requested I “just check and make sure” it would not cause a problem, given her G6PD deficiency. He prevented me from prescribing an antibiotic contraindicated in that condition.

Bring forward the lessons learned. The COVID-19 outbreak has passed through our nursing home—at least for now. I perceive a subtle shift in how we continue to interact with one another. Behind the masks, we make a little more eye contact; we more often address each other by name; and we acknowledge a greater mutual respect.

The shared experience of COVID-19 has brought us all a little closer together, and in the end, our patients have benefitted.

Like most family medicine residencies, our teaching nursing home was struck with a COVID-19 outbreak. Within 10 days, I was the sole physician responsible for 15 patients with varying degrees of illness, quarantined behind the fire doors of a wing of a Memory Support Unit. My daily work there over the course of the next month prompted me to reflect on some of the core principles of family medicine, and health care, that are vital to effective patient care during a pandemic. My experience provided the following reminders:

Work as a team. Gowned, gloved, and masked behind the fire doors, our world shrank to our patients and a 4-person team comprised of a nurse, 2 nursing assistants, and me. For the first time in the 10+ years I’ve worked at that facility, I actually asked for and memorized the names of everyone I was working with that day. Without an intercom or other telecommunications system, it became important for me to be able to call for my team members by name for immediate help. We had to depend on one another to make sure all patients were hydrated and fed, to avert falls whenever possible, to intervene early when dementia-­associated behaviors were escalating, and to recognize when patients were crashing.

I began asking for the names of everyone I was working with that day and I observed, first-hand, the great finesse that nurses display in their efforts to de-escalate disruptive behaviors.

We also had to depend on each other to ensure that our personal protective equipment remained properly placed, to combat the psychological sense of isolation that quarantine environments engender, and to placate a gnawing undercurrent of unease while working around a potentially deadly pathogen.

Develop clinical routines. Having listened to other medical directors whose nursing homes were affected by the pandemic earlier than we were, and hearing about potentially avoidable complications, we developed clinical routines. This began with identifying any patients with diabetes whose poor appetites while acutely ill could send them into hypoglycemia. We devised a daily clinical report sheet that included vital signs, date of positive COVID-19 test, global clinical status, and advance directives. Unlike the usual mode of working almost in parallel, I began my workday with a “sign-out” from the nurse, then started examining each patient.

Under the strain of this unusual environment and novel circumstances, we communicated more and more often. This allowed us to quickly recognize and communicate emerging changes in the clinical status of a patient by sharing our observations of subtle, nonspecific “sub-threshold” indicators.

Clarify the goals of care. Since most of the patients in the COVID-19 unit were under the long-term care of other attending physicians, it was important for me to understand the wishes of the patient or surrogate decision maker, should life-threatening complications occur. While all affected patients were long-term residents of a memory support unit, some had full-code advance directives. I quickly realized that what was first necessary was to develop rapport and trust with the families who didn’t know me, then discuss goals of care, and finally assure that the advance directives were in congruence with their stated goals. What helped families gain trust in me was knowing that I was seeing their loved one daily, that I was committed to helping the patient survive this infection, and that I was willing to come back to the facility if a crisis occurred—even at night, if necessary.

Appreciate the daily work of team members. One of my greatest worries was dehydration. When elders were acutely ill and eating and drinking poorly, I would assist with feeding and offering liquids. I quickly came to appreciate how complex and subtle this seemingly mundane task can be. Learning the proper pace and portion size, even choosing the right conversation topic and tone, could make the difference between a patient “shutting down” and refusing all nourishment and successfully drinking a 360-cc cup of a high-nutrient shake.

Continue to: In the disrupted routines...

In the disrupted routines and altered physical environments of the COVID-19 unit, the psychological and behavioral complications of dementia intensified for some patients. I observed first-hand the great patience, kindness, and finesse that nurses and nursing assistants display in their efforts to de-escalate and prevent disruptive behaviors.

Empathize with (and appreciate) families. Families tearfully reminded me that they had been suffering from the absence of contact with their loved ones for months; COVID-19 added to that trauma for many of them. They talked about the missed graduations, birthdays, and other precious times together that were lost because of the quarantine.

Families also prevented me from making mistakes. When I ordered nitrofurantoin for a patient with a urinary tract infection, her son called me and respectfully requested I “just check and make sure” it would not cause a problem, given her G6PD deficiency. He prevented me from prescribing an antibiotic contraindicated in that condition.

Bring forward the lessons learned. The COVID-19 outbreak has passed through our nursing home—at least for now. I perceive a subtle shift in how we continue to interact with one another. Behind the masks, we make a little more eye contact; we more often address each other by name; and we acknowledge a greater mutual respect.

The shared experience of COVID-19 has brought us all a little closer together, and in the end, our patients have benefitted.

Knowing that I am a psychiatrist, my friends and colleagues recently started to ask me, “Am I losing my mind?” The symptoms underlying these concerned queries are remarkably similar: inability to concentrate, becoming easily frustrated, forgetting things, not being as productive as usual, being overly tired despite doing less, and feeling unusually irritable, among other vague somatic symptoms. This condition is to be distinguished from COVID-19 in the brain, which is the protean serious neuropsychiatric manifestations of infection with the virus ranging from strokes and seizures to encephalopathy and psychosis especially in severe cases of infection.¹

As federal health care professionals (HCPs), many of us are familiar with acute high stress medical situations, which the pandemic has expanded and intensified: In New York City during the surge, the US Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) intensive care physician pushing life-sustaining resources to their limits in a valiant effort to keep alive as many people as possible; the US Public Health Service HCP working miracles without adequate supplies or staff in underserved hard-hit areas of the country; or the US Department of Defense clinician deftly trying to contain outbreaks in contained spaces like ships.

Emerging data already show that HCPs and other first responders facing these repeated episodes of acute stress are experiencing increased depression and anxiety.² Research from prior pandemics suggests that this is only the beginning of a wave of negative mental health complications in HCPs.³

In the acute form of stress, the hypothalamic pituitary axis (HPA axis) is an evolutionary engine that coordinates multiple organ systems from lungs to liver to ensure efficient escape from primeval dinosaurs or more modern threats like viruses. Fueling that engine is the hormonal cascade that ends in excessive secretion of cortisol.

Chronic stress affects the body and brain in a different way than does acute stress. The problem is that this sympathetic nervous system surge is meant to power a sprint to survival not the marathon of uncertainty that COVID-19 has become. As long as the body stays in acute stress mode, the brain cannot downshift to the parasympathetic system that would usually moderate and regulate our neurobiologic circuits and neuropsychological processes. Like any other engine in overdrive, the stress gear erodes the machinery of our body and brain. Hence, the symptoms of psychophysical wear and tear—allostatic load—that most of us are experiencing.⁴

The subject of this column is the lower level of prolonged chronic stress. The mild and amorphous pertubations that can be described as “the brain in COVID-19.” It is a syndrome that affects even those who have never been infected with the actual virus. Though not usually life-threatening or disabling, it is unnerving and distressing as the queries from my colleagues and friends show. Their reports and my observations have led me to opine that “no one is okay” due to months of living under the strain of a pandemic.

The degree and scope of chronic stress that a person experiences caused by COVID-19 has to be contextualized and individualized. Those who have lost jobs, who are working while children are going to school online, who are caring for relatives, or who are in fear of losing their home face tremendous stress and challenges.⁵ Yet even those like me, whose biggest worry is a dog barking through important teleconference meetings, still undergo a milder form of near constant stress.

Consider that all of us have become strangers in an even stranger land. Masks have become an object of political controversy. In states where masking is mandatory, you must be mask vigilant every time you go out. In many areas of the country stores have limited hours, access, and supplies and any trip away from the house risks infection. Conversely, for those in a high-risk population, it may have been months since they have left home at all, and many sick, older, and vulnerable persons are suffering from isolation, loneliness, and boredom. The minor distractions and innocent pleasures that relieve day-to-day stress are no longer safe or available options, like eating out, attending shows, or taking trips.

Most of us are waiting for news of an effective available vaccine, some with yearning and others with dread. For George Gershwin, summertime meant that “the livin’ is easy,” but the summer of 2020 has been anything but easy and that takes its toll on the mind. Without adequate positive stimulation, attention wanders and memory fails to encode details, making even routine tasks more difficult; without meaningful social contact, emotions become sharp and ragged often hurting others. Most important, without periods in which we can relax, there is psychic exhaustion.⁶

At this point you may be thinking, “So, now that you told us we are all under chronic stress, are you going to tell us whether we can do anything about it?” There are many fantastic websites (including the VA) where experts far more qualified than I am offer excellent advice on coping with the pandemic.⁷ What I can provide is 5 reflections on managing the stress that I have used and that others with whom I shared them have found helpful.

1. Set realistic expectations. We are in a different reality in which we may need to take on smaller tasks, pace our work and take more breaks and, most of all, give ourselves a break when we are not as functional as we were before the pandemic.

2. Get out in nature. Find a green space to walk or sit, spend time with companion animals, go for a hike or bicycle near water or mountains, or watch the birds in a forest. Nothing can help restore our perspective or calm frayed nerves like the socially distanced outdoors.

3. Reach out. Even though we cannot hug or even shake hands, we can still pick up the phone or mouse and check on someone who is down. All the great traditions of the world agree that the best way to lift our own spirits is to help others.

4. Be kind. This is among the most important responses. As the epigraph suggests, everyone is engaged in an often silent and secret struggle and deserves our compassion. This call for kindness should be extended to ourselves so that we can be patient and compassionate to others.

5. Have courage and hope. This may be the most important of all. Whether we are infected or are fearing/avoiding infection, COVID-19 makes us sick in body and brain. We must have faith that there is something—the mind, the spirit—beyond the purely physical that gives us courage to outlast COVID-19 and to have hope for a postpandemic future that though not the same as before may well be in some ways better

Knowing that I am a psychiatrist, my friends and colleagues recently started to ask me, “Am I losing my mind?” The symptoms underlying these concerned queries are remarkably similar: inability to concentrate, becoming easily frustrated, forgetting things, not being as productive as usual, being overly tired despite doing less, and feeling unusually irritable, among other vague somatic symptoms. This condition is to be distinguished from COVID-19 in the brain, which is the protean serious neuropsychiatric manifestations of infection with the virus ranging from strokes and seizures to encephalopathy and psychosis especially in severe cases of infection.¹

As federal health care professionals (HCPs), many of us are familiar with acute high stress medical situations, which the pandemic has expanded and intensified: In New York City during the surge, the US Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) intensive care physician pushing life-sustaining resources to their limits in a valiant effort to keep alive as many people as possible; the US Public Health Service HCP working miracles without adequate supplies or staff in underserved hard-hit areas of the country; or the US Department of Defense clinician deftly trying to contain outbreaks in contained spaces like ships.

Emerging data already show that HCPs and other first responders facing these repeated episodes of acute stress are experiencing increased depression and anxiety.² Research from prior pandemics suggests that this is only the beginning of a wave of negative mental health complications in HCPs.³

In the acute form of stress, the hypothalamic pituitary axis (HPA axis) is an evolutionary engine that coordinates multiple organ systems from lungs to liver to ensure efficient escape from primeval dinosaurs or more modern threats like viruses. Fueling that engine is the hormonal cascade that ends in excessive secretion of cortisol.

Chronic stress affects the body and brain in a different way than does acute stress. The problem is that this sympathetic nervous system surge is meant to power a sprint to survival not the marathon of uncertainty that COVID-19 has become. As long as the body stays in acute stress mode, the brain cannot downshift to the parasympathetic system that would usually moderate and regulate our neurobiologic circuits and neuropsychological processes. Like any other engine in overdrive, the stress gear erodes the machinery of our body and brain. Hence, the symptoms of psychophysical wear and tear—allostatic load—that most of us are experiencing.⁴

The subject of this column is the lower level of prolonged chronic stress. The mild and amorphous pertubations that can be described as “the brain in COVID-19.” It is a syndrome that affects even those who have never been infected with the actual virus. Though not usually life-threatening or disabling, it is unnerving and distressing as the queries from my colleagues and friends show. Their reports and my observations have led me to opine that “no one is okay” due to months of living under the strain of a pandemic.

The degree and scope of chronic stress that a person experiences caused by COVID-19 has to be contextualized and individualized. Those who have lost jobs, who are working while children are going to school online, who are caring for relatives, or who are in fear of losing their home face tremendous stress and challenges.⁵ Yet even those like me, whose biggest worry is a dog barking through important teleconference meetings, still undergo a milder form of near constant stress.

Consider that all of us have become strangers in an even stranger land. Masks have become an object of political controversy. In states where masking is mandatory, you must be mask vigilant every time you go out. In many areas of the country stores have limited hours, access, and supplies and any trip away from the house risks infection. Conversely, for those in a high-risk population, it may have been months since they have left home at all, and many sick, older, and vulnerable persons are suffering from isolation, loneliness, and boredom. The minor distractions and innocent pleasures that relieve day-to-day stress are no longer safe or available options, like eating out, attending shows, or taking trips.

Most of us are waiting for news of an effective available vaccine, some with yearning and others with dread. For George Gershwin, summertime meant that “the livin’ is easy,” but the summer of 2020 has been anything but easy and that takes its toll on the mind. Without adequate positive stimulation, attention wanders and memory fails to encode details, making even routine tasks more difficult; without meaningful social contact, emotions become sharp and ragged often hurting others. Most important, without periods in which we can relax, there is psychic exhaustion.⁶

At this point you may be thinking, “So, now that you told us we are all under chronic stress, are you going to tell us whether we can do anything about it?” There are many fantastic websites (including the VA) where experts far more qualified than I am offer excellent advice on coping with the pandemic.⁷ What I can provide is 5 reflections on managing the stress that I have used and that others with whom I shared them have found helpful.

1. Set realistic expectations. We are in a different reality in which we may need to take on smaller tasks, pace our work and take more breaks and, most of all, give ourselves a break when we are not as functional as we were before the pandemic.

2. Get out in nature. Find a green space to walk or sit, spend time with companion animals, go for a hike or bicycle near water or mountains, or watch the birds in a forest. Nothing can help restore our perspective or calm frayed nerves like the socially distanced outdoors.

3. Reach out. Even though we cannot hug or even shake hands, we can still pick up the phone or mouse and check on someone who is down. All the great traditions of the world agree that the best way to lift our own spirits is to help others.

4. Be kind. This is among the most important responses. As the epigraph suggests, everyone is engaged in an often silent and secret struggle and deserves our compassion. This call for kindness should be extended to ourselves so that we can be patient and compassionate to others.

5. Have courage and hope. This may be the most important of all. Whether we are infected or are fearing/avoiding infection, COVID-19 makes us sick in body and brain. We must have faith that there is something—the mind, the spirit—beyond the purely physical that gives us courage to outlast COVID-19 and to have hope for a postpandemic future that though not the same as before may well be in some ways better

Knowing that I am a psychiatrist, my friends and colleagues recently started to ask me, “Am I losing my mind?” The symptoms underlying these concerned queries are remarkably similar: inability to concentrate, becoming easily frustrated, forgetting things, not being as productive as usual, being overly tired despite doing less, and feeling unusually irritable, among other vague somatic symptoms. This condition is to be distinguished from COVID-19 in the brain, which is the protean serious neuropsychiatric manifestations of infection with the virus ranging from strokes and seizures to encephalopathy and psychosis especially in severe cases of infection.¹

As federal health care professionals (HCPs), many of us are familiar with acute high stress medical situations, which the pandemic has expanded and intensified: In New York City during the surge, the US Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) intensive care physician pushing life-sustaining resources to their limits in a valiant effort to keep alive as many people as possible; the US Public Health Service HCP working miracles without adequate supplies or staff in underserved hard-hit areas of the country; or the US Department of Defense clinician deftly trying to contain outbreaks in contained spaces like ships.

Emerging data already show that HCPs and other first responders facing these repeated episodes of acute stress are experiencing increased depression and anxiety.² Research from prior pandemics suggests that this is only the beginning of a wave of negative mental health complications in HCPs.³

In the acute form of stress, the hypothalamic pituitary axis (HPA axis) is an evolutionary engine that coordinates multiple organ systems from lungs to liver to ensure efficient escape from primeval dinosaurs or more modern threats like viruses. Fueling that engine is the hormonal cascade that ends in excessive secretion of cortisol.

Chronic stress affects the body and brain in a different way than does acute stress. The problem is that this sympathetic nervous system surge is meant to power a sprint to survival not the marathon of uncertainty that COVID-19 has become. As long as the body stays in acute stress mode, the brain cannot downshift to the parasympathetic system that would usually moderate and regulate our neurobiologic circuits and neuropsychological processes. Like any other engine in overdrive, the stress gear erodes the machinery of our body and brain. Hence, the symptoms of psychophysical wear and tear—allostatic load—that most of us are experiencing.⁴

The subject of this column is the lower level of prolonged chronic stress. The mild and amorphous pertubations that can be described as “the brain in COVID-19.” It is a syndrome that affects even those who have never been infected with the actual virus. Though not usually life-threatening or disabling, it is unnerving and distressing as the queries from my colleagues and friends show. Their reports and my observations have led me to opine that “no one is okay” due to months of living under the strain of a pandemic.

The degree and scope of chronic stress that a person experiences caused by COVID-19 has to be contextualized and individualized. Those who have lost jobs, who are working while children are going to school online, who are caring for relatives, or who are in fear of losing their home face tremendous stress and challenges.⁵ Yet even those like me, whose biggest worry is a dog barking through important teleconference meetings, still undergo a milder form of near constant stress.

Consider that all of us have become strangers in an even stranger land. Masks have become an object of political controversy. In states where masking is mandatory, you must be mask vigilant every time you go out. In many areas of the country stores have limited hours, access, and supplies and any trip away from the house risks infection. Conversely, for those in a high-risk population, it may have been months since they have left home at all, and many sick, older, and vulnerable persons are suffering from isolation, loneliness, and boredom. The minor distractions and innocent pleasures that relieve day-to-day stress are no longer safe or available options, like eating out, attending shows, or taking trips.

Most of us are waiting for news of an effective available vaccine, some with yearning and others with dread. For George Gershwin, summertime meant that “the livin’ is easy,” but the summer of 2020 has been anything but easy and that takes its toll on the mind. Without adequate positive stimulation, attention wanders and memory fails to encode details, making even routine tasks more difficult; without meaningful social contact, emotions become sharp and ragged often hurting others. Most important, without periods in which we can relax, there is psychic exhaustion.⁶

At this point you may be thinking, “So, now that you told us we are all under chronic stress, are you going to tell us whether we can do anything about it?” There are many fantastic websites (including the VA) where experts far more qualified than I am offer excellent advice on coping with the pandemic.⁷ What I can provide is 5 reflections on managing the stress that I have used and that others with whom I shared them have found helpful.

1. Set realistic expectations. We are in a different reality in which we may need to take on smaller tasks, pace our work and take more breaks and, most of all, give ourselves a break when we are not as functional as we were before the pandemic.

2. Get out in nature. Find a green space to walk or sit, spend time with companion animals, go for a hike or bicycle near water or mountains, or watch the birds in a forest. Nothing can help restore our perspective or calm frayed nerves like the socially distanced outdoors.

3. Reach out. Even though we cannot hug or even shake hands, we can still pick up the phone or mouse and check on someone who is down. All the great traditions of the world agree that the best way to lift our own spirits is to help others.

4. Be kind. This is among the most important responses. As the epigraph suggests, everyone is engaged in an often silent and secret struggle and deserves our compassion. This call for kindness should be extended to ourselves so that we can be patient and compassionate to others.

5. Have courage and hope. This may be the most important of all. Whether we are infected or are fearing/avoiding infection, COVID-19 makes us sick in body and brain. We must have faith that there is something—the mind, the spirit—beyond the purely physical that gives us courage to outlast COVID-19 and to have hope for a postpandemic future that though not the same as before may well be in some ways better