Letters from Maine

I suspect that, like me, you were saddened, but maybe not shocked, to learn that firearm-related fatalities have recently surpassed motor vehicle–related fatalities as the leading cause of death among children. For those of us living in Maine, this revelation came at a particularly difficult time. The body of the presumed shooter in the Lewiston massacre was found less than 10 miles from where I am writing you this letter. There is a good chance he may have been a former patient of mine, but I no longer have access to my records to confirm that.

This reshuffling at the top of the list of mortality causes is just one example of the shifting trends that have occurred in pediatric fatality statistics. In a recent analysis of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics published in Pediatrics investigators discovered that while, in general, fatal injuries have increased over the study period (2011-2021) nonfatal injuries have decreased.

We should no longer be surprised to learn that firearm-related deaths increased more than 87%. Fatal drug poisoning was up 133% and suffocation-related deaths increased 12.5% over that 10-year period. Given this profile of fatalities, it shouldn’t surprise us that nonfatal injuries due to firearms, poisoning, and self-harm also increased.

However, nonfatal injuries in other broad categories decreased: falls were down 52.8%, overexertion 63%, struck by [something or someone] 47.3%, motor vehicle occupant 36.7%, and cut pierce 36.7%. Nonfatal drownings were unchanged.
 

Diverging trends

Fatal injuries are up and nonfatal injuries are down. What are we to make of these diverging trends? I suspect that when it comes to both firearms and drug poisonings, both fatal and nonfatal, children are now living in an environment in which the sheer volume of guns and drugs have grown the point, and will continue to grow, that contact and its consequences will continue to increase until we reach a saturation point at some unpredictable point in the future. There still may be some opportunities to curb the flow of drugs. But, I am afraid when it comes to firearms, that ship has sailed. We may have a chance to curb assault weapons, but hand guns have become ubiquitous to the point that they will continue to be a threat to children.

The increase in self-harm injuries is clearly a reflection of the increase in pediatric and adolescent mental health disturbances, which in turn is a reflection of the gloom hanging over the population in general.

But, what’s going on with the decrease in nonfatal injuries caused by falls, overexertion, struck by, and cut pierce? Is this a bit of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy picture? The authors of the paper see it as a reflection of our “public health interventions targeting pediatric safety partnered with technological advancement and legislative requirements.” Maybe when we are talking about booster seats and other automotive safety advancements. But I’m not so sure we should be too vigorous as we pat ourselves on the back.

On the other hand, aren’t these decreases in injuries related to activity just more evidence of our increasingly sedentary pediatric population? Falling off the couch seldom creates an injury that generates an ED statistic. Myopia and obesity related to excess screen time doesn’t trigger data points in this study. Overexertion injuries are down. We already know the consequences of underexertion are up.

I’m not sure we need to cut back on our efforts at injury prevention but I worry that we may run the risk of discouraging healthy activity if we aren’t careful with our voices of caution.

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

I suspect that, like me, you were saddened, but maybe not shocked, to learn that firearm-related fatalities have recently surpassed motor vehicle–related fatalities as the leading cause of death among children. For those of us living in Maine, this revelation came at a particularly difficult time. The body of the presumed shooter in the Lewiston massacre was found less than 10 miles from where I am writing you this letter. There is a good chance he may have been a former patient of mine, but I no longer have access to my records to confirm that.

This reshuffling at the top of the list of mortality causes is just one example of the shifting trends that have occurred in pediatric fatality statistics. In a recent analysis of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics published in Pediatrics investigators discovered that while, in general, fatal injuries have increased over the study period (2011-2021) nonfatal injuries have decreased.

We should no longer be surprised to learn that firearm-related deaths increased more than 87%. Fatal drug poisoning was up 133% and suffocation-related deaths increased 12.5% over that 10-year period. Given this profile of fatalities, it shouldn’t surprise us that nonfatal injuries due to firearms, poisoning, and self-harm also increased.

However, nonfatal injuries in other broad categories decreased: falls were down 52.8%, overexertion 63%, struck by [something or someone] 47.3%, motor vehicle occupant 36.7%, and cut pierce 36.7%. Nonfatal drownings were unchanged.
 

Diverging trends

Fatal injuries are up and nonfatal injuries are down. What are we to make of these diverging trends? I suspect that when it comes to both firearms and drug poisonings, both fatal and nonfatal, children are now living in an environment in which the sheer volume of guns and drugs have grown the point, and will continue to grow, that contact and its consequences will continue to increase until we reach a saturation point at some unpredictable point in the future. There still may be some opportunities to curb the flow of drugs. But, I am afraid when it comes to firearms, that ship has sailed. We may have a chance to curb assault weapons, but hand guns have become ubiquitous to the point that they will continue to be a threat to children.

The increase in self-harm injuries is clearly a reflection of the increase in pediatric and adolescent mental health disturbances, which in turn is a reflection of the gloom hanging over the population in general.

But, what’s going on with the decrease in nonfatal injuries caused by falls, overexertion, struck by, and cut pierce? Is this a bit of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy picture? The authors of the paper see it as a reflection of our “public health interventions targeting pediatric safety partnered with technological advancement and legislative requirements.” Maybe when we are talking about booster seats and other automotive safety advancements. But I’m not so sure we should be too vigorous as we pat ourselves on the back.

On the other hand, aren’t these decreases in injuries related to activity just more evidence of our increasingly sedentary pediatric population? Falling off the couch seldom creates an injury that generates an ED statistic. Myopia and obesity related to excess screen time doesn’t trigger data points in this study. Overexertion injuries are down. We already know the consequences of underexertion are up.

I’m not sure we need to cut back on our efforts at injury prevention but I worry that we may run the risk of discouraging healthy activity if we aren’t careful with our voices of caution.

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

I suspect that, like me, you were saddened, but maybe not shocked, to learn that firearm-related fatalities have recently surpassed motor vehicle–related fatalities as the leading cause of death among children. For those of us living in Maine, this revelation came at a particularly difficult time. The body of the presumed shooter in the Lewiston massacre was found less than 10 miles from where I am writing you this letter. There is a good chance he may have been a former patient of mine, but I no longer have access to my records to confirm that.

This reshuffling at the top of the list of mortality causes is just one example of the shifting trends that have occurred in pediatric fatality statistics. In a recent analysis of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics published in Pediatrics investigators discovered that while, in general, fatal injuries have increased over the study period (2011-2021) nonfatal injuries have decreased.

We should no longer be surprised to learn that firearm-related deaths increased more than 87%. Fatal drug poisoning was up 133% and suffocation-related deaths increased 12.5% over that 10-year period. Given this profile of fatalities, it shouldn’t surprise us that nonfatal injuries due to firearms, poisoning, and self-harm also increased.

However, nonfatal injuries in other broad categories decreased: falls were down 52.8%, overexertion 63%, struck by [something or someone] 47.3%, motor vehicle occupant 36.7%, and cut pierce 36.7%. Nonfatal drownings were unchanged.
 

Diverging trends

Fatal injuries are up and nonfatal injuries are down. What are we to make of these diverging trends? I suspect that when it comes to both firearms and drug poisonings, both fatal and nonfatal, children are now living in an environment in which the sheer volume of guns and drugs have grown the point, and will continue to grow, that contact and its consequences will continue to increase until we reach a saturation point at some unpredictable point in the future. There still may be some opportunities to curb the flow of drugs. But, I am afraid when it comes to firearms, that ship has sailed. We may have a chance to curb assault weapons, but hand guns have become ubiquitous to the point that they will continue to be a threat to children.

The increase in self-harm injuries is clearly a reflection of the increase in pediatric and adolescent mental health disturbances, which in turn is a reflection of the gloom hanging over the population in general.

But, what’s going on with the decrease in nonfatal injuries caused by falls, overexertion, struck by, and cut pierce? Is this a bit of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy picture? The authors of the paper see it as a reflection of our “public health interventions targeting pediatric safety partnered with technological advancement and legislative requirements.” Maybe when we are talking about booster seats and other automotive safety advancements. But I’m not so sure we should be too vigorous as we pat ourselves on the back.

On the other hand, aren’t these decreases in injuries related to activity just more evidence of our increasingly sedentary pediatric population? Falling off the couch seldom creates an injury that generates an ED statistic. Myopia and obesity related to excess screen time doesn’t trigger data points in this study. Overexertion injuries are down. We already know the consequences of underexertion are up.

I’m not sure we need to cut back on our efforts at injury prevention but I worry that we may run the risk of discouraging healthy activity if we aren’t careful with our voices of caution.

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

“On which side of the bed did you get up this morning?” Obviously, your inquisitor assumes that to avoid clumsily crawling over your sleeping partner you always get up on the side with the table stacked with unread books.

You know as well as I do that you have just received a totally undisguised comment on your recent behavior that has been several shades less than cheery. You may have already sensed your own grumpiness. Do you have an explanation? Did the commute leave you with a case of unresolved road rage? Did you wake up feeling unrested? How often does that happen? Do you think you are getting enough sleep?

A few weeks ago I wrote a Letters From Maine column in which I shared a study suggesting that the regularity of an individual’s sleep pattern may, in many cases, be more important than his or her total number of hours slept. In that same column I wrote that sleep scientists don’t as yet have a good definition of sleep irregularity, nor can they give us any more than a broad range for the total number of hours a person needs to maintain wellness.

How do you determine whether you are getting enough sleep? Do you keep a chart of how many times you were asked which side of the bed you got up on in a week? Or is it how you feel in the morning? Is it when you instantly doze off any time you sit down in a quiet place?

Although many adults are clueless (or in denial) that they are sleep deprived, generally if you ask them and take a brief history they will tell you. On the other hand, determining when a child, particularly one who is preverbal, is sleep deprived is a bit more difficult. Asking the patient isn’t going to give you the answer. You must rely on parental observations. And, to some extent, this can be difficult because parents are, by definition, learning on the job. They may not realize the symptoms and behaviors they are seeing in their child are the result of sleep deficiency.

Over the last half century of observing children, I have developed a very low threshold for diagnosing sleep deprivation. Basically, any child who is cranky and not obviously sick is overtired until proven otherwise. For example, colic does not appear on my frequently used, or in fact ever used, list of diagnoses. Colicky is an adjective that I may use to describe some episodic pain or behavior, but colic as a working diagnosis? Never.

When presented with a child who has already been diagnosed with “colic” by its aunt or the lady next door, this is when the astute pediatrician must be at his or her best. If a thorough history, including sleep pattern, yields no obvious evidence of illness, the next step should be some sleep coaching. However, this is where the “until proven otherwise” thing becomes important, because not providing close follow-up and continuing to keep an open mind for the less likely coexisting conditions can be dangerous and certainly not in the patient’s best interest.

For the older child crankiness, temper tantrums, mood disorders and signs and symptoms often (some might say too often) associated with attention-deficit disorder should trigger an immediate investigation of sleep habits and appropriate advice. Less well-known conditions associated with sleep deprivation are migraine and nocturnal leg pains, often mislabeled as growing pains.

The physicians planning on using sleep as a therapeutic modality is going to quickly run into several challenges. First is convincing the parents, the patient, and the family that the condition is to a greater or lesser degree the result of sleep deprivation. Because sleep is still underappreciated as a component of wellness, this is often not an easy sell.

Second, everyone must accept that altering sleep patterns regardless of age is often not easy and will not be achieved in 1 night or 2. Keeping up the drumbeat of encouragement with close follow-up is critical. Parents must be continually reminded that sleep is being used as a medicine and the dose is not measured in hours. The improvement in symptoms will tell us when enough is enough.

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

“On which side of the bed did you get up this morning?” Obviously, your inquisitor assumes that to avoid clumsily crawling over your sleeping partner you always get up on the side with the table stacked with unread books.

You know as well as I do that you have just received a totally undisguised comment on your recent behavior that has been several shades less than cheery. You may have already sensed your own grumpiness. Do you have an explanation? Did the commute leave you with a case of unresolved road rage? Did you wake up feeling unrested? How often does that happen? Do you think you are getting enough sleep?

A few weeks ago I wrote a Letters From Maine column in which I shared a study suggesting that the regularity of an individual’s sleep pattern may, in many cases, be more important than his or her total number of hours slept. In that same column I wrote that sleep scientists don’t as yet have a good definition of sleep irregularity, nor can they give us any more than a broad range for the total number of hours a person needs to maintain wellness.

How do you determine whether you are getting enough sleep? Do you keep a chart of how many times you were asked which side of the bed you got up on in a week? Or is it how you feel in the morning? Is it when you instantly doze off any time you sit down in a quiet place?

Although many adults are clueless (or in denial) that they are sleep deprived, generally if you ask them and take a brief history they will tell you. On the other hand, determining when a child, particularly one who is preverbal, is sleep deprived is a bit more difficult. Asking the patient isn’t going to give you the answer. You must rely on parental observations. And, to some extent, this can be difficult because parents are, by definition, learning on the job. They may not realize the symptoms and behaviors they are seeing in their child are the result of sleep deficiency.

Over the last half century of observing children, I have developed a very low threshold for diagnosing sleep deprivation. Basically, any child who is cranky and not obviously sick is overtired until proven otherwise. For example, colic does not appear on my frequently used, or in fact ever used, list of diagnoses. Colicky is an adjective that I may use to describe some episodic pain or behavior, but colic as a working diagnosis? Never.

When presented with a child who has already been diagnosed with “colic” by its aunt or the lady next door, this is when the astute pediatrician must be at his or her best. If a thorough history, including sleep pattern, yields no obvious evidence of illness, the next step should be some sleep coaching. However, this is where the “until proven otherwise” thing becomes important, because not providing close follow-up and continuing to keep an open mind for the less likely coexisting conditions can be dangerous and certainly not in the patient’s best interest.

For the older child crankiness, temper tantrums, mood disorders and signs and symptoms often (some might say too often) associated with attention-deficit disorder should trigger an immediate investigation of sleep habits and appropriate advice. Less well-known conditions associated with sleep deprivation are migraine and nocturnal leg pains, often mislabeled as growing pains.

The physicians planning on using sleep as a therapeutic modality is going to quickly run into several challenges. First is convincing the parents, the patient, and the family that the condition is to a greater or lesser degree the result of sleep deprivation. Because sleep is still underappreciated as a component of wellness, this is often not an easy sell.

Second, everyone must accept that altering sleep patterns regardless of age is often not easy and will not be achieved in 1 night or 2. Keeping up the drumbeat of encouragement with close follow-up is critical. Parents must be continually reminded that sleep is being used as a medicine and the dose is not measured in hours. The improvement in symptoms will tell us when enough is enough.

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

“On which side of the bed did you get up this morning?” Obviously, your inquisitor assumes that to avoid clumsily crawling over your sleeping partner you always get up on the side with the table stacked with unread books.

You know as well as I do that you have just received a totally undisguised comment on your recent behavior that has been several shades less than cheery. You may have already sensed your own grumpiness. Do you have an explanation? Did the commute leave you with a case of unresolved road rage? Did you wake up feeling unrested? How often does that happen? Do you think you are getting enough sleep?

A few weeks ago I wrote a Letters From Maine column in which I shared a study suggesting that the regularity of an individual’s sleep pattern may, in many cases, be more important than his or her total number of hours slept. In that same column I wrote that sleep scientists don’t as yet have a good definition of sleep irregularity, nor can they give us any more than a broad range for the total number of hours a person needs to maintain wellness.

How do you determine whether you are getting enough sleep? Do you keep a chart of how many times you were asked which side of the bed you got up on in a week? Or is it how you feel in the morning? Is it when you instantly doze off any time you sit down in a quiet place?

Although many adults are clueless (or in denial) that they are sleep deprived, generally if you ask them and take a brief history they will tell you. On the other hand, determining when a child, particularly one who is preverbal, is sleep deprived is a bit more difficult. Asking the patient isn’t going to give you the answer. You must rely on parental observations. And, to some extent, this can be difficult because parents are, by definition, learning on the job. They may not realize the symptoms and behaviors they are seeing in their child are the result of sleep deficiency.

Over the last half century of observing children, I have developed a very low threshold for diagnosing sleep deprivation. Basically, any child who is cranky and not obviously sick is overtired until proven otherwise. For example, colic does not appear on my frequently used, or in fact ever used, list of diagnoses. Colicky is an adjective that I may use to describe some episodic pain or behavior, but colic as a working diagnosis? Never.

When presented with a child who has already been diagnosed with “colic” by its aunt or the lady next door, this is when the astute pediatrician must be at his or her best. If a thorough history, including sleep pattern, yields no obvious evidence of illness, the next step should be some sleep coaching. However, this is where the “until proven otherwise” thing becomes important, because not providing close follow-up and continuing to keep an open mind for the less likely coexisting conditions can be dangerous and certainly not in the patient’s best interest.

For the older child crankiness, temper tantrums, mood disorders and signs and symptoms often (some might say too often) associated with attention-deficit disorder should trigger an immediate investigation of sleep habits and appropriate advice. Less well-known conditions associated with sleep deprivation are migraine and nocturnal leg pains, often mislabeled as growing pains.

The physicians planning on using sleep as a therapeutic modality is going to quickly run into several challenges. First is convincing the parents, the patient, and the family that the condition is to a greater or lesser degree the result of sleep deprivation. Because sleep is still underappreciated as a component of wellness, this is often not an easy sell.

Second, everyone must accept that altering sleep patterns regardless of age is often not easy and will not be achieved in 1 night or 2. Keeping up the drumbeat of encouragement with close follow-up is critical. Parents must be continually reminded that sleep is being used as a medicine and the dose is not measured in hours. The improvement in symptoms will tell us when enough is enough.

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

I, like every pediatrician I know, believe that breast milk is the best nutrition for human newborns. Its balance of nutritive elements and its role in preventing of a wide range of illnesses are so great that we are still learning the extent of their magnitude. It just makes sense that a mother’s milk is most well suited for her baby.

I am a bit less unambiguous about breastfeeding. By that I mean the process of providing breast milk to an infant directly from its mother’s breast. Before you yank my AAP membership card, let me make it clear that I think every woman should consider breastfeeding her infant. But we must accept that in a few situations, even with help from caring and enlightened health care providers and family members, breastfeeding doesn’t work as well as we would have hoped. Fortunately, there are alternatives.

My reservations about the process are few, and until recently I have had an unwaveringly positive attitude toward the safety of breast milk. The cause of my little bit of uncertainty arrived in a recent study by two researchers at the Dana Farber Institute in Boston, in which the investigators examining the health histories of more than 150,000 women found that those who were breastfed incurred a 23% greater risk of developing colorectal cancer when they reached adulthood. A younger cohort within that larger group had a dramatic 40% increased risk of developing high-risk cancer before reaching age 55.

The population the investigators studied came from the large Nurses’ Health Study II, a well-known repository of longitudinal health data. The researchers reported that they included biometric data and a large collection of lifestyle factors including smoking, alcohol intake, and diet in their calculations. However, breastfeeding continued to register the highest association. Interestingly, the investigators found that women who were breastfed for 9 months or longer had twice the risk of colorectal cancer as those who breastfed for from 4 to 8 months.

The study population was all women and predominantly white. However, in the general population it is the non-Hispanic white population that is experiencing the greatest increase in incidence. Of course, the study could not answer whether this association with breastfeeding also existed in minority populations.

The researchers suspect that what they are seeing is a reflection of the Westernization of the American lifestyle. One of the researchers is interested in the gut biome of infants and plans to further the investigation in that direction. Could some substance from the environment be concentrating in breast milk? Or is something missing in breast milk? She points out that, while formulas are generally fortified with vitamin D, breast milk is not.

As concerning as the results of this study may sound, the authors are very careful to urge mothers to continue to breastfeed and choose it as their first choice for feeding their babies. I have been pleasantly surprised that this study has not gotten widespread media attention because bad news travels fast. I have chosen to share it with you because at some point you may begin getting questions from concerned parents.

While apparently well done, this study is just the beginning. Like any good research, it poses more questions than it answers. For us as pediatricians it means we should continue to recommend breast milk as the first food. But, we must stay alert as further research looks deeper into this association.

We should also take advantage of our special access to young parents, a demographic that less frequently sees a physician for preventive care. For whatever reason colorectal cancer is occurring at younger ages. When we have the opportunity we should be reminding 40-year-olds not to wait until age 50 to screen for colorectal cancer, particularly if they have a family history of the disease.

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

I, like every pediatrician I know, believe that breast milk is the best nutrition for human newborns. Its balance of nutritive elements and its role in preventing of a wide range of illnesses are so great that we are still learning the extent of their magnitude. It just makes sense that a mother’s milk is most well suited for her baby.

I am a bit less unambiguous about breastfeeding. By that I mean the process of providing breast milk to an infant directly from its mother’s breast. Before you yank my AAP membership card, let me make it clear that I think every woman should consider breastfeeding her infant. But we must accept that in a few situations, even with help from caring and enlightened health care providers and family members, breastfeeding doesn’t work as well as we would have hoped. Fortunately, there are alternatives.

My reservations about the process are few, and until recently I have had an unwaveringly positive attitude toward the safety of breast milk. The cause of my little bit of uncertainty arrived in a recent study by two researchers at the Dana Farber Institute in Boston, in which the investigators examining the health histories of more than 150,000 women found that those who were breastfed incurred a 23% greater risk of developing colorectal cancer when they reached adulthood. A younger cohort within that larger group had a dramatic 40% increased risk of developing high-risk cancer before reaching age 55.

The population the investigators studied came from the large Nurses’ Health Study II, a well-known repository of longitudinal health data. The researchers reported that they included biometric data and a large collection of lifestyle factors including smoking, alcohol intake, and diet in their calculations. However, breastfeeding continued to register the highest association. Interestingly, the investigators found that women who were breastfed for 9 months or longer had twice the risk of colorectal cancer as those who breastfed for from 4 to 8 months.

The study population was all women and predominantly white. However, in the general population it is the non-Hispanic white population that is experiencing the greatest increase in incidence. Of course, the study could not answer whether this association with breastfeeding also existed in minority populations.

The researchers suspect that what they are seeing is a reflection of the Westernization of the American lifestyle. One of the researchers is interested in the gut biome of infants and plans to further the investigation in that direction. Could some substance from the environment be concentrating in breast milk? Or is something missing in breast milk? She points out that, while formulas are generally fortified with vitamin D, breast milk is not.

As concerning as the results of this study may sound, the authors are very careful to urge mothers to continue to breastfeed and choose it as their first choice for feeding their babies. I have been pleasantly surprised that this study has not gotten widespread media attention because bad news travels fast. I have chosen to share it with you because at some point you may begin getting questions from concerned parents.

While apparently well done, this study is just the beginning. Like any good research, it poses more questions than it answers. For us as pediatricians it means we should continue to recommend breast milk as the first food. But, we must stay alert as further research looks deeper into this association.

We should also take advantage of our special access to young parents, a demographic that less frequently sees a physician for preventive care. For whatever reason colorectal cancer is occurring at younger ages. When we have the opportunity we should be reminding 40-year-olds not to wait until age 50 to screen for colorectal cancer, particularly if they have a family history of the disease.

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

I, like every pediatrician I know, believe that breast milk is the best nutrition for human newborns. Its balance of nutritive elements and its role in preventing of a wide range of illnesses are so great that we are still learning the extent of their magnitude. It just makes sense that a mother’s milk is most well suited for her baby.

I am a bit less unambiguous about breastfeeding. By that I mean the process of providing breast milk to an infant directly from its mother’s breast. Before you yank my AAP membership card, let me make it clear that I think every woman should consider breastfeeding her infant. But we must accept that in a few situations, even with help from caring and enlightened health care providers and family members, breastfeeding doesn’t work as well as we would have hoped. Fortunately, there are alternatives.

My reservations about the process are few, and until recently I have had an unwaveringly positive attitude toward the safety of breast milk. The cause of my little bit of uncertainty arrived in a recent study by two researchers at the Dana Farber Institute in Boston, in which the investigators examining the health histories of more than 150,000 women found that those who were breastfed incurred a 23% greater risk of developing colorectal cancer when they reached adulthood. A younger cohort within that larger group had a dramatic 40% increased risk of developing high-risk cancer before reaching age 55.

The population the investigators studied came from the large Nurses’ Health Study II, a well-known repository of longitudinal health data. The researchers reported that they included biometric data and a large collection of lifestyle factors including smoking, alcohol intake, and diet in their calculations. However, breastfeeding continued to register the highest association. Interestingly, the investigators found that women who were breastfed for 9 months or longer had twice the risk of colorectal cancer as those who breastfed for from 4 to 8 months.

The study population was all women and predominantly white. However, in the general population it is the non-Hispanic white population that is experiencing the greatest increase in incidence. Of course, the study could not answer whether this association with breastfeeding also existed in minority populations.

The researchers suspect that what they are seeing is a reflection of the Westernization of the American lifestyle. One of the researchers is interested in the gut biome of infants and plans to further the investigation in that direction. Could some substance from the environment be concentrating in breast milk? Or is something missing in breast milk? She points out that, while formulas are generally fortified with vitamin D, breast milk is not.

As concerning as the results of this study may sound, the authors are very careful to urge mothers to continue to breastfeed and choose it as their first choice for feeding their babies. I have been pleasantly surprised that this study has not gotten widespread media attention because bad news travels fast. I have chosen to share it with you because at some point you may begin getting questions from concerned parents.

While apparently well done, this study is just the beginning. Like any good research, it poses more questions than it answers. For us as pediatricians it means we should continue to recommend breast milk as the first food. But, we must stay alert as further research looks deeper into this association.

We should also take advantage of our special access to young parents, a demographic that less frequently sees a physician for preventive care. For whatever reason colorectal cancer is occurring at younger ages. When we have the opportunity we should be reminding 40-year-olds not to wait until age 50 to screen for colorectal cancer, particularly if they have a family history of the disease.

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

Until a couple of weeks ago I considered myself a COVID virgin. I had navigated a full 36 months without a positive test, despite cohabiting with my wife in a 2,500-square-foot house during her bout with the SARS-CoV-2 virus last year. I have been reasonably careful, a situational mask wearer, and good about avoiding poorly ventilated crowded spaces. Of course I was fully vaccinated but was waiting until we had gotten closer to a December trip before getting the newest booster.

I had always been quietly smug about my good luck. And, I was pretty sure that luck had been the major contributor to my run of good health. Nonetheless, in my private moments I often wondered if I somehow had inherited or acquired an unusual defense against the virus that had been getting the best of my peers. One rather far-fetched explanation that kept popping out of my subconscious involved my profuse and persistent runny nose.

Like a fair number in my demographic, I have what I have self-diagnosed as vasomotor rhinitis. In the cooler months and particularly when I am active outdoors, my nose runs like a faucet. I half-jokingly told my wife after a particularly drippy bike ride on a frigid November afternoon that even the most robust virus couldn’t possibly have survived the swim upstream against torrent of mucus splashing onto the handlebars of my bike.

A recent study published in the journal Cell suggests that my off-the-wall explanation for my COVID resistance wasn’t quite so hair-brained. The investigators haven’t found that septuagenarian adults with high-volume runny noses are drowning the SARS-Co- 2 virus before it can do any damage. However, the researchers did discover that, in general, young children seem to be having fewer and milder COVID infections because “infants mount a robust mucosal response” in their noses. This first line of defense seems to be more effective than in adults, where the virus can more easily slip through into the bloodstream, sometimes with a dramatic release of circulating cytokines, which occasionally create problems of their own. Children also release cytokines, but this is predominantly in their nose, where it appears to be less damaging. Interestingly, in children this initial response persists for around 300 days while in adults the immune response experiences a much more rapid decline. I guess this means we have to chalk one more up for snotty nose kids.

However, the results of this study also suggest that we should be giving more attention to the development of nasal vaccines. I recall that nearly 3 years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic, scientists using a ferret model had developed an effective nasal vaccine. I’m not sure why this faded out of the picture, but it feels like it’s time to turn the spotlight on this line of research again.

I suspect that in addition to being more effective, a nasal vaccine may gain more support among the antivaxxer population, many of whom I suspect are really needle phobics hiding behind a smoke screen of anti-science double talk.

At any rate, I will continue to search for articles that support my contention that my high-flow rhinorrhea is protecting me. I have always been told that a cold nose was the sign of a healthy dog. I’m just trying to prove that the same is true for us old guys with clear runny noses.

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

Until a couple of weeks ago I considered myself a COVID virgin. I had navigated a full 36 months without a positive test, despite cohabiting with my wife in a 2,500-square-foot house during her bout with the SARS-CoV-2 virus last year. I have been reasonably careful, a situational mask wearer, and good about avoiding poorly ventilated crowded spaces. Of course I was fully vaccinated but was waiting until we had gotten closer to a December trip before getting the newest booster.

I had always been quietly smug about my good luck. And, I was pretty sure that luck had been the major contributor to my run of good health. Nonetheless, in my private moments I often wondered if I somehow had inherited or acquired an unusual defense against the virus that had been getting the best of my peers. One rather far-fetched explanation that kept popping out of my subconscious involved my profuse and persistent runny nose.

Like a fair number in my demographic, I have what I have self-diagnosed as vasomotor rhinitis. In the cooler months and particularly when I am active outdoors, my nose runs like a faucet. I half-jokingly told my wife after a particularly drippy bike ride on a frigid November afternoon that even the most robust virus couldn’t possibly have survived the swim upstream against torrent of mucus splashing onto the handlebars of my bike.

A recent study published in the journal Cell suggests that my off-the-wall explanation for my COVID resistance wasn’t quite so hair-brained. The investigators haven’t found that septuagenarian adults with high-volume runny noses are drowning the SARS-Co- 2 virus before it can do any damage. However, the researchers did discover that, in general, young children seem to be having fewer and milder COVID infections because “infants mount a robust mucosal response” in their noses. This first line of defense seems to be more effective than in adults, where the virus can more easily slip through into the bloodstream, sometimes with a dramatic release of circulating cytokines, which occasionally create problems of their own. Children also release cytokines, but this is predominantly in their nose, where it appears to be less damaging. Interestingly, in children this initial response persists for around 300 days while in adults the immune response experiences a much more rapid decline. I guess this means we have to chalk one more up for snotty nose kids.

However, the results of this study also suggest that we should be giving more attention to the development of nasal vaccines. I recall that nearly 3 years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic, scientists using a ferret model had developed an effective nasal vaccine. I’m not sure why this faded out of the picture, but it feels like it’s time to turn the spotlight on this line of research again.

I suspect that in addition to being more effective, a nasal vaccine may gain more support among the antivaxxer population, many of whom I suspect are really needle phobics hiding behind a smoke screen of anti-science double talk.

At any rate, I will continue to search for articles that support my contention that my high-flow rhinorrhea is protecting me. I have always been told that a cold nose was the sign of a healthy dog. I’m just trying to prove that the same is true for us old guys with clear runny noses.

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

Until a couple of weeks ago I considered myself a COVID virgin. I had navigated a full 36 months without a positive test, despite cohabiting with my wife in a 2,500-square-foot house during her bout with the SARS-CoV-2 virus last year. I have been reasonably careful, a situational mask wearer, and good about avoiding poorly ventilated crowded spaces. Of course I was fully vaccinated but was waiting until we had gotten closer to a December trip before getting the newest booster.

I had always been quietly smug about my good luck. And, I was pretty sure that luck had been the major contributor to my run of good health. Nonetheless, in my private moments I often wondered if I somehow had inherited or acquired an unusual defense against the virus that had been getting the best of my peers. One rather far-fetched explanation that kept popping out of my subconscious involved my profuse and persistent runny nose.

Like a fair number in my demographic, I have what I have self-diagnosed as vasomotor rhinitis. In the cooler months and particularly when I am active outdoors, my nose runs like a faucet. I half-jokingly told my wife after a particularly drippy bike ride on a frigid November afternoon that even the most robust virus couldn’t possibly have survived the swim upstream against torrent of mucus splashing onto the handlebars of my bike.

A recent study published in the journal Cell suggests that my off-the-wall explanation for my COVID resistance wasn’t quite so hair-brained. The investigators haven’t found that septuagenarian adults with high-volume runny noses are drowning the SARS-Co- 2 virus before it can do any damage. However, the researchers did discover that, in general, young children seem to be having fewer and milder COVID infections because “infants mount a robust mucosal response” in their noses. This first line of defense seems to be more effective than in adults, where the virus can more easily slip through into the bloodstream, sometimes with a dramatic release of circulating cytokines, which occasionally create problems of their own. Children also release cytokines, but this is predominantly in their nose, where it appears to be less damaging. Interestingly, in children this initial response persists for around 300 days while in adults the immune response experiences a much more rapid decline. I guess this means we have to chalk one more up for snotty nose kids.

However, the results of this study also suggest that we should be giving more attention to the development of nasal vaccines. I recall that nearly 3 years ago, at the beginning of the pandemic, scientists using a ferret model had developed an effective nasal vaccine. I’m not sure why this faded out of the picture, but it feels like it’s time to turn the spotlight on this line of research again.

I suspect that in addition to being more effective, a nasal vaccine may gain more support among the antivaxxer population, many of whom I suspect are really needle phobics hiding behind a smoke screen of anti-science double talk.

At any rate, I will continue to search for articles that support my contention that my high-flow rhinorrhea is protecting me. I have always been told that a cold nose was the sign of a healthy dog. I’m just trying to prove that the same is true for us old guys with clear runny noses.

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

This country faces a broad and frightening rogues’ gallery of challenges to its health. From the recent revelation that gunshots are the leading cause of death in children to the opioid epidemic to the overworked and discouraged health care providers, the crises are so numerous it is hard to choose where we should be investing what little political will we can muster. And, where do these disasters fit against a landscape raked by natural and climate change–triggered catastrophes? How do we even begin to triage our vocabulary as we are trying to label them?

The lead article in October’s journal Pediatrics makes a heroic effort to place pediatric obesity into this pantheon of health disasters. The authors of this Pediatrics Perspective ask a simple question: Should the United States declare pediatric obesity a public health emergency? They have wisely chosen to narrow the question to the pediatric population as being a more realistic target and one that is more likely to pay bigger dividends over time.

While acknowledging that obesity prevention strategies have been largely ineffective to this point, the authors are also concerned that despite the promising development of treatment strategies, the rollout of these therapies is likely to be uneven because of funding and disparities in health care delivery.

After reviewing pros and cons for an emergency declaration, they came to the conclusion that despite the scope of the problem and the fact that health emergencies have been declared for conditions effecting fewer individuals, now is not the time. The authors observed that a declaration may serve only to hype “the problem without offering tangible solutions.” Even when as yet to be discovered effective therapies become available, the time lag before measurable improvement is likely to be so delayed that “catastrophizing” pediatric obesity may be just another exercise in wolf-crying.
 

A closer look

While I applaud the authors for their courage in addressing this question and their decision to discourage an emergency declaration, a few of their observations deserve a closer look. First, they are legitimately concerned that any health policy must be careful not to further perpetuate the stigmatization of children with obesity. However, they feel the recognition by all stakeholders “that obesity is a genetically and biologically driven disease are essential.” While I have supported the disease designation as a pragmatic strategy to move things forward, I would prefer their statement to read “obesity can be ... “ I don’t think we have mined the data deep enough to determine how many out of a cohort of a million obese children from across a wide span of socioeconomic strata have become obese primarily as a result of decisions made by school departments, parents, and governmental entities – all of which had the resources to make healthier decisions but failed to do so.

While a majority of the population may believe that obesity is a “condition of choice,” I think they would be more likely to support the political will for action if they saw data that acknowledges that yes, obesity can be a condition of choice, but here are the circumstances in which choice can and can’t make a difference. Language must always be chosen carefully to minimize stigmatization. However, remember we are not pointing fingers at victims; we are instead looking for teaching moments in which adults can learn to make better choices for the children under their care who are too young to make their own.

Finally, as the authors of this Pediatric Perspectives considered cons of a declaration of health care emergency, they raised the peculiarly American concern of personal autonomy. As they pointed out, there are unfortunate examples in this country in which efforts to limit personal choice have backfired and well-meaning and potentially effective methods for limiting unhealthy behaviors have been eliminated in the name of personal freedom. I’m not sure how we manage this except to wait and be judicious as we move forward addressing pediatric obesity on a national scale. I urge you to take a few minutes to read this perspective. It is a topic worth considering.
 

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

This country faces a broad and frightening rogues’ gallery of challenges to its health. From the recent revelation that gunshots are the leading cause of death in children to the opioid epidemic to the overworked and discouraged health care providers, the crises are so numerous it is hard to choose where we should be investing what little political will we can muster. And, where do these disasters fit against a landscape raked by natural and climate change–triggered catastrophes? How do we even begin to triage our vocabulary as we are trying to label them?

The lead article in October’s journal Pediatrics makes a heroic effort to place pediatric obesity into this pantheon of health disasters. The authors of this Pediatrics Perspective ask a simple question: Should the United States declare pediatric obesity a public health emergency? They have wisely chosen to narrow the question to the pediatric population as being a more realistic target and one that is more likely to pay bigger dividends over time.

While acknowledging that obesity prevention strategies have been largely ineffective to this point, the authors are also concerned that despite the promising development of treatment strategies, the rollout of these therapies is likely to be uneven because of funding and disparities in health care delivery.

After reviewing pros and cons for an emergency declaration, they came to the conclusion that despite the scope of the problem and the fact that health emergencies have been declared for conditions effecting fewer individuals, now is not the time. The authors observed that a declaration may serve only to hype “the problem without offering tangible solutions.” Even when as yet to be discovered effective therapies become available, the time lag before measurable improvement is likely to be so delayed that “catastrophizing” pediatric obesity may be just another exercise in wolf-crying.
 

A closer look

While I applaud the authors for their courage in addressing this question and their decision to discourage an emergency declaration, a few of their observations deserve a closer look. First, they are legitimately concerned that any health policy must be careful not to further perpetuate the stigmatization of children with obesity. However, they feel the recognition by all stakeholders “that obesity is a genetically and biologically driven disease are essential.” While I have supported the disease designation as a pragmatic strategy to move things forward, I would prefer their statement to read “obesity can be ... “ I don’t think we have mined the data deep enough to determine how many out of a cohort of a million obese children from across a wide span of socioeconomic strata have become obese primarily as a result of decisions made by school departments, parents, and governmental entities – all of which had the resources to make healthier decisions but failed to do so.

While a majority of the population may believe that obesity is a “condition of choice,” I think they would be more likely to support the political will for action if they saw data that acknowledges that yes, obesity can be a condition of choice, but here are the circumstances in which choice can and can’t make a difference. Language must always be chosen carefully to minimize stigmatization. However, remember we are not pointing fingers at victims; we are instead looking for teaching moments in which adults can learn to make better choices for the children under their care who are too young to make their own.

Finally, as the authors of this Pediatric Perspectives considered cons of a declaration of health care emergency, they raised the peculiarly American concern of personal autonomy. As they pointed out, there are unfortunate examples in this country in which efforts to limit personal choice have backfired and well-meaning and potentially effective methods for limiting unhealthy behaviors have been eliminated in the name of personal freedom. I’m not sure how we manage this except to wait and be judicious as we move forward addressing pediatric obesity on a national scale. I urge you to take a few minutes to read this perspective. It is a topic worth considering.
 

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

This country faces a broad and frightening rogues’ gallery of challenges to its health. From the recent revelation that gunshots are the leading cause of death in children to the opioid epidemic to the overworked and discouraged health care providers, the crises are so numerous it is hard to choose where we should be investing what little political will we can muster. And, where do these disasters fit against a landscape raked by natural and climate change–triggered catastrophes? How do we even begin to triage our vocabulary as we are trying to label them?

The lead article in October’s journal Pediatrics makes a heroic effort to place pediatric obesity into this pantheon of health disasters. The authors of this Pediatrics Perspective ask a simple question: Should the United States declare pediatric obesity a public health emergency? They have wisely chosen to narrow the question to the pediatric population as being a more realistic target and one that is more likely to pay bigger dividends over time.

While acknowledging that obesity prevention strategies have been largely ineffective to this point, the authors are also concerned that despite the promising development of treatment strategies, the rollout of these therapies is likely to be uneven because of funding and disparities in health care delivery.

After reviewing pros and cons for an emergency declaration, they came to the conclusion that despite the scope of the problem and the fact that health emergencies have been declared for conditions effecting fewer individuals, now is not the time. The authors observed that a declaration may serve only to hype “the problem without offering tangible solutions.” Even when as yet to be discovered effective therapies become available, the time lag before measurable improvement is likely to be so delayed that “catastrophizing” pediatric obesity may be just another exercise in wolf-crying.
 

A closer look

While I applaud the authors for their courage in addressing this question and their decision to discourage an emergency declaration, a few of their observations deserve a closer look. First, they are legitimately concerned that any health policy must be careful not to further perpetuate the stigmatization of children with obesity. However, they feel the recognition by all stakeholders “that obesity is a genetically and biologically driven disease are essential.” While I have supported the disease designation as a pragmatic strategy to move things forward, I would prefer their statement to read “obesity can be ... “ I don’t think we have mined the data deep enough to determine how many out of a cohort of a million obese children from across a wide span of socioeconomic strata have become obese primarily as a result of decisions made by school departments, parents, and governmental entities – all of which had the resources to make healthier decisions but failed to do so.

While a majority of the population may believe that obesity is a “condition of choice,” I think they would be more likely to support the political will for action if they saw data that acknowledges that yes, obesity can be a condition of choice, but here are the circumstances in which choice can and can’t make a difference. Language must always be chosen carefully to minimize stigmatization. However, remember we are not pointing fingers at victims; we are instead looking for teaching moments in which adults can learn to make better choices for the children under their care who are too young to make their own.

Finally, as the authors of this Pediatric Perspectives considered cons of a declaration of health care emergency, they raised the peculiarly American concern of personal autonomy. As they pointed out, there are unfortunate examples in this country in which efforts to limit personal choice have backfired and well-meaning and potentially effective methods for limiting unhealthy behaviors have been eliminated in the name of personal freedom. I’m not sure how we manage this except to wait and be judicious as we move forward addressing pediatric obesity on a national scale. I urge you to take a few minutes to read this perspective. It is a topic worth considering.
 

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

In discussions between health care providers and patients, the words “regularity” and “irregularity” come up primarily in reference to either constipation or menstrual cycles. However, the participants in a recent panel convened by the National Sleep Foundation think we should also be discussing irregularity when we are discussing sleep with our patients.

The sleep experts on the panel began by considering 40,000 papers that directly or tangentially dealt with the topic of irregular sleep patterns. The reviewers uncovered numerous references to an association between sleep irregularity and a wide variety of adverse health outcomes, including obesity and metabolic disorders, hypertension and other cardiovascular disorders, and elevations in several inflammatory markers. Not surprisingly, the investigators also found an abundance of references supporting an association between irregular sleep and a suite of mental health problems, including depression, mood disorders, lower self esteem, poor academic performance, and deficits in attention. For example, several of the studies the panel reviewed found that in college students, GPA was lower when their sleep pattern was irregular. There were some papers that found no significant association between irregular sleep and other adverse health outcomes, but none of the studies demonstrated an association with better or improved health outcomes.

There is currently no universally accepted definition of an irregular sleep pattern. The experts pointed to some papers that used a standard deviation of 1 hour from the patient’s usual bed time determined by averaging over an interval measured in weeks. You and I shouldn’t be surprised that irregular sleep is unhealthy, but the breadth of the panel’s findings is impressive.

Although it has been long in coming, sleep is finally beginning to get some attention by the media. The focus is usually on the optimal number of hours we need each night. This panel’s findings suggest that total sleep time is only part of the story, and may even be less important than the regularity of our sleep patterns.

For those of us in pediatrics, the place where irregularity raises its ugly head is with teenagers and weekends. Although the numbers are far from clear, the question remains of how effective is catch-up sleep after a week of too-early mornings and too-late bedtimes for the chronically under-slept adolescent.

In some studies in which patients had the demonstrable effects of sleep deprivation (e.g., metabolic and cardiovascular) there was some improvement when weekend sleep was extended by 1 or 2 hours, but none beyond 2 hours.

The panel’s findings, while certainly significant, merely add weight and nuance to the existing evidence of importance of sleep and the damage done by sleep deprivation. As one of the panel members has said, “Sleep is the third pillar of health, equally important as diet and exercise, if not more.” However, this message is not getting out, or at least it is not being heeded. Like obesity, our efforts as advisers to our patients isn’t working. Unfortunately, this is because our advice is often whispered and given halfheartedly.

There was some evidence of improvement as a result of the pandemic, when those fortunate enough to be able to work from home were taking advantage of the flexibility in their schedules and getting more sleep. But health care providers certainly can’t take responsibility for what was an accident of nature.

Those of you who have been reading Letters from Maine for the last 3 decades may tire of my beating the tired horse of sleep deprivation. But I will not be deterred. I see very little evidence among health care professionals in taking the importance of sleep seriously. Sure, they may include it buried in the list of potential contributors to their patient’s complaint, but I see very little effort to move it higher on their list of priorities and almost no movement toward making substantive recommendations and then reinforcing them with follow-up.

Like obesity, sleep deprivation is a societal problem. We can lay some of the blame on Thomas Edison, but until we as health care professionals take sleep deprivation seriously, we will be undertreating and mistreating our patients who would benefit from a serious discussion of their sleep habits. Until that time you will continue to read columns like this one when I encounter significant studies on the importance of sleep.

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

In discussions between health care providers and patients, the words “regularity” and “irregularity” come up primarily in reference to either constipation or menstrual cycles. However, the participants in a recent panel convened by the National Sleep Foundation think we should also be discussing irregularity when we are discussing sleep with our patients.

The sleep experts on the panel began by considering 40,000 papers that directly or tangentially dealt with the topic of irregular sleep patterns. The reviewers uncovered numerous references to an association between sleep irregularity and a wide variety of adverse health outcomes, including obesity and metabolic disorders, hypertension and other cardiovascular disorders, and elevations in several inflammatory markers. Not surprisingly, the investigators also found an abundance of references supporting an association between irregular sleep and a suite of mental health problems, including depression, mood disorders, lower self esteem, poor academic performance, and deficits in attention. For example, several of the studies the panel reviewed found that in college students, GPA was lower when their sleep pattern was irregular. There were some papers that found no significant association between irregular sleep and other adverse health outcomes, but none of the studies demonstrated an association with better or improved health outcomes.

There is currently no universally accepted definition of an irregular sleep pattern. The experts pointed to some papers that used a standard deviation of 1 hour from the patient’s usual bed time determined by averaging over an interval measured in weeks. You and I shouldn’t be surprised that irregular sleep is unhealthy, but the breadth of the panel’s findings is impressive.

Although it has been long in coming, sleep is finally beginning to get some attention by the media. The focus is usually on the optimal number of hours we need each night. This panel’s findings suggest that total sleep time is only part of the story, and may even be less important than the regularity of our sleep patterns.

For those of us in pediatrics, the place where irregularity raises its ugly head is with teenagers and weekends. Although the numbers are far from clear, the question remains of how effective is catch-up sleep after a week of too-early mornings and too-late bedtimes for the chronically under-slept adolescent.

In some studies in which patients had the demonstrable effects of sleep deprivation (e.g., metabolic and cardiovascular) there was some improvement when weekend sleep was extended by 1 or 2 hours, but none beyond 2 hours.

The panel’s findings, while certainly significant, merely add weight and nuance to the existing evidence of importance of sleep and the damage done by sleep deprivation. As one of the panel members has said, “Sleep is the third pillar of health, equally important as diet and exercise, if not more.” However, this message is not getting out, or at least it is not being heeded. Like obesity, our efforts as advisers to our patients isn’t working. Unfortunately, this is because our advice is often whispered and given halfheartedly.

There was some evidence of improvement as a result of the pandemic, when those fortunate enough to be able to work from home were taking advantage of the flexibility in their schedules and getting more sleep. But health care providers certainly can’t take responsibility for what was an accident of nature.

Those of you who have been reading Letters from Maine for the last 3 decades may tire of my beating the tired horse of sleep deprivation. But I will not be deterred. I see very little evidence among health care professionals in taking the importance of sleep seriously. Sure, they may include it buried in the list of potential contributors to their patient’s complaint, but I see very little effort to move it higher on their list of priorities and almost no movement toward making substantive recommendations and then reinforcing them with follow-up.

Like obesity, sleep deprivation is a societal problem. We can lay some of the blame on Thomas Edison, but until we as health care professionals take sleep deprivation seriously, we will be undertreating and mistreating our patients who would benefit from a serious discussion of their sleep habits. Until that time you will continue to read columns like this one when I encounter significant studies on the importance of sleep.

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

In discussions between health care providers and patients, the words “regularity” and “irregularity” come up primarily in reference to either constipation or menstrual cycles. However, the participants in a recent panel convened by the National Sleep Foundation think we should also be discussing irregularity when we are discussing sleep with our patients.

The sleep experts on the panel began by considering 40,000 papers that directly or tangentially dealt with the topic of irregular sleep patterns. The reviewers uncovered numerous references to an association between sleep irregularity and a wide variety of adverse health outcomes, including obesity and metabolic disorders, hypertension and other cardiovascular disorders, and elevations in several inflammatory markers. Not surprisingly, the investigators also found an abundance of references supporting an association between irregular sleep and a suite of mental health problems, including depression, mood disorders, lower self esteem, poor academic performance, and deficits in attention. For example, several of the studies the panel reviewed found that in college students, GPA was lower when their sleep pattern was irregular. There were some papers that found no significant association between irregular sleep and other adverse health outcomes, but none of the studies demonstrated an association with better or improved health outcomes.

There is currently no universally accepted definition of an irregular sleep pattern. The experts pointed to some papers that used a standard deviation of 1 hour from the patient’s usual bed time determined by averaging over an interval measured in weeks. You and I shouldn’t be surprised that irregular sleep is unhealthy, but the breadth of the panel’s findings is impressive.

Although it has been long in coming, sleep is finally beginning to get some attention by the media. The focus is usually on the optimal number of hours we need each night. This panel’s findings suggest that total sleep time is only part of the story, and may even be less important than the regularity of our sleep patterns.

For those of us in pediatrics, the place where irregularity raises its ugly head is with teenagers and weekends. Although the numbers are far from clear, the question remains of how effective is catch-up sleep after a week of too-early mornings and too-late bedtimes for the chronically under-slept adolescent.

In some studies in which patients had the demonstrable effects of sleep deprivation (e.g., metabolic and cardiovascular) there was some improvement when weekend sleep was extended by 1 or 2 hours, but none beyond 2 hours.

The panel’s findings, while certainly significant, merely add weight and nuance to the existing evidence of importance of sleep and the damage done by sleep deprivation. As one of the panel members has said, “Sleep is the third pillar of health, equally important as diet and exercise, if not more.” However, this message is not getting out, or at least it is not being heeded. Like obesity, our efforts as advisers to our patients isn’t working. Unfortunately, this is because our advice is often whispered and given halfheartedly.

There was some evidence of improvement as a result of the pandemic, when those fortunate enough to be able to work from home were taking advantage of the flexibility in their schedules and getting more sleep. But health care providers certainly can’t take responsibility for what was an accident of nature.

Those of you who have been reading Letters from Maine for the last 3 decades may tire of my beating the tired horse of sleep deprivation. But I will not be deterred. I see very little evidence among health care professionals in taking the importance of sleep seriously. Sure, they may include it buried in the list of potential contributors to their patient’s complaint, but I see very little effort to move it higher on their list of priorities and almost no movement toward making substantive recommendations and then reinforcing them with follow-up.

Like obesity, sleep deprivation is a societal problem. We can lay some of the blame on Thomas Edison, but until we as health care professionals take sleep deprivation seriously, we will be undertreating and mistreating our patients who would benefit from a serious discussion of their sleep habits. Until that time you will continue to read columns like this one when I encounter significant studies on the importance of sleep.

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

“The doctor won’t see you now.”

The editor of the alumni magazine had succeeded in getting my attention. The shock value of the headline hooked me and I was drawn in to chase down the research. A study by a team of researchers at Harvard Medical School has published a study in the British Medical Journal revealing that “from 2013 to 2019 the share of U.S. health care visits delivered by nonphysicians such as nurse practitioners or physician assistants increased from 14% to 26%.” In other words, at more than a quarter of the health care visits in this country the patient is not seen by a physician. The percent seen by advanced-practice providers varied by complaint and specialty. For example, 47% of patients with a respiratory complaint saw a nurse practitioner or physicians assistant, while for an eye condition only 13% were seen by an advanced-practice provider. However, overall the increase was dramatic.

It doesn’t require much deep thinking to come up with some explanations for this shift in provider involvement. It boils down to supply and demand. Compared with other similar nations, we have fewer physicians. Physicians are leaving the profession for a variety of reasons, including disappointment with their work-life balance and a sense that too much of their day is devoted to meaningless work with user unfriendly computer systems.

The number of nurse practitioners and physician assistants is growing faster than that of physicians. In fact it has been predicted that over the next 2 decades advanced-practice providers will increase by more than 50% while the physician pool will grow by less than 5%.

We can mull over the how-we-got-here ad infinitum, but this recent study suggests that we had better hustle and invest some time rethinking the role of a physician and how we should adapt our education system to better prepare for those choosing the path through medical school. This mirror gazing is particularly critical for those of us doing primary care.

While in years past I often heard a discontented grumble from patients that “I was ‘only’ seen by the nurse practitioner,” this complaint has become much less frequent as patients have gained more experience with advanced-practice providers and have begun to accept the new reality and see the change as inevitable.

When someone tells me that their daughter or nephew or second cousin is planning on becoming a doctor, I pause and listen patiently as they go on proudly about it before asking if the young person has considered becoming a physician assistant. I say, “Ya know, if I were 60 years younger I think I would bypass medical school and become a nurse practitioner because they get to do all the cool things that I enjoyed about seeing patients. Sure, my mother wouldn’t have been able to introduce me as her son the doctor. But, my parents and I would have spent less time and money on my training, and I would have had less administrative hassle heaped on me once I went into practice.”

The essence of good primary care is Availability, Continuity, and Expertise. The first two attributes aren’t taught in medical school and rely on commitment and having enough bodies to deliver the care. When it comes to expertise, how important is the broad and deep education of traditional medical school when the provider is seeing the relatively narrow spectrum of bread-and-butter everyday complaints that fill the day for most primary care providers? Particularly, when the population has already been preselected by age, geography, and socioeconomic factors.

The usual argument against my assertion is that a higher-priced and more arduous education pathway better provides the physician with the tools to deal with the outliers, the diagnostic enigmas. My reply is that any good provider regardless of his or her years spent in training is taught to first admit what they don’t know. When faced with an enigma, call a consultant or, in the near future, access a Chatbot.

If the natural market and economic forces continue to drive the growth of advanced-practice providers, what role(s) remains for the medical school–trained primary care provider? Does she or he remain the leader of a team of providers? Does she or he still see patients and somehow remain the first among equals?

While patients seem to be warming to the notion of seeing a nonphysician provider, I often still hear the complaint but “I see a different provider every time I go to the office.” Continuity is one of those three keystones of quality primary care. It is not incompatible with a team concept of care delivery, but it does require a commitment to the concept and creative scheduling that allows the patient to see the same provider at almost every visit. I’m not sure where having a first-among-equals provider fits into that scheme. Is it just one more “different” provider?

Maybe the medical school–trained provider becomes a consultant physician, much as the British and Canadian systems seem to work. She or he would see patients only after the advanced primary care provider has done an evaluation and is unsure of the next step. Would this be at the same site or electronically? Is there a time lag? In my old-school interpretation, if the visit is not the same day or maybe the next day then it doesn’t satisfy my Availability requirement of primary care.

I’m beginning to believe that the best role for the medical school–trained primary care specialist is someone who has a broad and deep understanding of the organizational issues around primary care. Primarily an educator who generally doesn’t see patients but instead trains advanced primary care providers, organizes them into teams that function to provide care in a timely fashion that emphasizes Continuity, and then performs ongoing, real time assessments to assure that care provided is at the highest level of Expertise.

It sounds like an interesting and challenging job description requiring a deep and broad education. Just not one that appeals to me. I would rather be a nurse practitioner or physician’s assistant who is on the front line and hands on.

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

“The doctor won’t see you now.”

The editor of the alumni magazine had succeeded in getting my attention. The shock value of the headline hooked me and I was drawn in to chase down the research. A study by a team of researchers at Harvard Medical School has published a study in the British Medical Journal revealing that “from 2013 to 2019 the share of U.S. health care visits delivered by nonphysicians such as nurse practitioners or physician assistants increased from 14% to 26%.” In other words, at more than a quarter of the health care visits in this country the patient is not seen by a physician. The percent seen by advanced-practice providers varied by complaint and specialty. For example, 47% of patients with a respiratory complaint saw a nurse practitioner or physicians assistant, while for an eye condition only 13% were seen by an advanced-practice provider. However, overall the increase was dramatic.

It doesn’t require much deep thinking to come up with some explanations for this shift in provider involvement. It boils down to supply and demand. Compared with other similar nations, we have fewer physicians. Physicians are leaving the profession for a variety of reasons, including disappointment with their work-life balance and a sense that too much of their day is devoted to meaningless work with user unfriendly computer systems.

The number of nurse practitioners and physician assistants is growing faster than that of physicians. In fact it has been predicted that over the next 2 decades advanced-practice providers will increase by more than 50% while the physician pool will grow by less than 5%.

We can mull over the how-we-got-here ad infinitum, but this recent study suggests that we had better hustle and invest some time rethinking the role of a physician and how we should adapt our education system to better prepare for those choosing the path through medical school. This mirror gazing is particularly critical for those of us doing primary care.

While in years past I often heard a discontented grumble from patients that “I was ‘only’ seen by the nurse practitioner,” this complaint has become much less frequent as patients have gained more experience with advanced-practice providers and have begun to accept the new reality and see the change as inevitable.

When someone tells me that their daughter or nephew or second cousin is planning on becoming a doctor, I pause and listen patiently as they go on proudly about it before asking if the young person has considered becoming a physician assistant. I say, “Ya know, if I were 60 years younger I think I would bypass medical school and become a nurse practitioner because they get to do all the cool things that I enjoyed about seeing patients. Sure, my mother wouldn’t have been able to introduce me as her son the doctor. But, my parents and I would have spent less time and money on my training, and I would have had less administrative hassle heaped on me once I went into practice.”

The essence of good primary care is Availability, Continuity, and Expertise. The first two attributes aren’t taught in medical school and rely on commitment and having enough bodies to deliver the care. When it comes to expertise, how important is the broad and deep education of traditional medical school when the provider is seeing the relatively narrow spectrum of bread-and-butter everyday complaints that fill the day for most primary care providers? Particularly, when the population has already been preselected by age, geography, and socioeconomic factors.

The usual argument against my assertion is that a higher-priced and more arduous education pathway better provides the physician with the tools to deal with the outliers, the diagnostic enigmas. My reply is that any good provider regardless of his or her years spent in training is taught to first admit what they don’t know. When faced with an enigma, call a consultant or, in the near future, access a Chatbot.

If the natural market and economic forces continue to drive the growth of advanced-practice providers, what role(s) remains for the medical school–trained primary care provider? Does she or he remain the leader of a team of providers? Does she or he still see patients and somehow remain the first among equals?

While patients seem to be warming to the notion of seeing a nonphysician provider, I often still hear the complaint but “I see a different provider every time I go to the office.” Continuity is one of those three keystones of quality primary care. It is not incompatible with a team concept of care delivery, but it does require a commitment to the concept and creative scheduling that allows the patient to see the same provider at almost every visit. I’m not sure where having a first-among-equals provider fits into that scheme. Is it just one more “different” provider?

Maybe the medical school–trained provider becomes a consultant physician, much as the British and Canadian systems seem to work. She or he would see patients only after the advanced primary care provider has done an evaluation and is unsure of the next step. Would this be at the same site or electronically? Is there a time lag? In my old-school interpretation, if the visit is not the same day or maybe the next day then it doesn’t satisfy my Availability requirement of primary care.

I’m beginning to believe that the best role for the medical school–trained primary care specialist is someone who has a broad and deep understanding of the organizational issues around primary care. Primarily an educator who generally doesn’t see patients but instead trains advanced primary care providers, organizes them into teams that function to provide care in a timely fashion that emphasizes Continuity, and then performs ongoing, real time assessments to assure that care provided is at the highest level of Expertise.

It sounds like an interesting and challenging job description requiring a deep and broad education. Just not one that appeals to me. I would rather be a nurse practitioner or physician’s assistant who is on the front line and hands on.

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

“The doctor won’t see you now.”

The editor of the alumni magazine had succeeded in getting my attention. The shock value of the headline hooked me and I was drawn in to chase down the research. A study by a team of researchers at Harvard Medical School has published a study in the British Medical Journal revealing that “from 2013 to 2019 the share of U.S. health care visits delivered by nonphysicians such as nurse practitioners or physician assistants increased from 14% to 26%.” In other words, at more than a quarter of the health care visits in this country the patient is not seen by a physician. The percent seen by advanced-practice providers varied by complaint and specialty. For example, 47% of patients with a respiratory complaint saw a nurse practitioner or physicians assistant, while for an eye condition only 13% were seen by an advanced-practice provider. However, overall the increase was dramatic.

It doesn’t require much deep thinking to come up with some explanations for this shift in provider involvement. It boils down to supply and demand. Compared with other similar nations, we have fewer physicians. Physicians are leaving the profession for a variety of reasons, including disappointment with their work-life balance and a sense that too much of their day is devoted to meaningless work with user unfriendly computer systems.

The number of nurse practitioners and physician assistants is growing faster than that of physicians. In fact it has been predicted that over the next 2 decades advanced-practice providers will increase by more than 50% while the physician pool will grow by less than 5%.

We can mull over the how-we-got-here ad infinitum, but this recent study suggests that we had better hustle and invest some time rethinking the role of a physician and how we should adapt our education system to better prepare for those choosing the path through medical school. This mirror gazing is particularly critical for those of us doing primary care.

While in years past I often heard a discontented grumble from patients that “I was ‘only’ seen by the nurse practitioner,” this complaint has become much less frequent as patients have gained more experience with advanced-practice providers and have begun to accept the new reality and see the change as inevitable.

When someone tells me that their daughter or nephew or second cousin is planning on becoming a doctor, I pause and listen patiently as they go on proudly about it before asking if the young person has considered becoming a physician assistant. I say, “Ya know, if I were 60 years younger I think I would bypass medical school and become a nurse practitioner because they get to do all the cool things that I enjoyed about seeing patients. Sure, my mother wouldn’t have been able to introduce me as her son the doctor. But, my parents and I would have spent less time and money on my training, and I would have had less administrative hassle heaped on me once I went into practice.”

The essence of good primary care is Availability, Continuity, and Expertise. The first two attributes aren’t taught in medical school and rely on commitment and having enough bodies to deliver the care. When it comes to expertise, how important is the broad and deep education of traditional medical school when the provider is seeing the relatively narrow spectrum of bread-and-butter everyday complaints that fill the day for most primary care providers? Particularly, when the population has already been preselected by age, geography, and socioeconomic factors.

The usual argument against my assertion is that a higher-priced and more arduous education pathway better provides the physician with the tools to deal with the outliers, the diagnostic enigmas. My reply is that any good provider regardless of his or her years spent in training is taught to first admit what they don’t know. When faced with an enigma, call a consultant or, in the near future, access a Chatbot.

If the natural market and economic forces continue to drive the growth of advanced-practice providers, what role(s) remains for the medical school–trained primary care provider? Does she or he remain the leader of a team of providers? Does she or he still see patients and somehow remain the first among equals?

While patients seem to be warming to the notion of seeing a nonphysician provider, I often still hear the complaint but “I see a different provider every time I go to the office.” Continuity is one of those three keystones of quality primary care. It is not incompatible with a team concept of care delivery, but it does require a commitment to the concept and creative scheduling that allows the patient to see the same provider at almost every visit. I’m not sure where having a first-among-equals provider fits into that scheme. Is it just one more “different” provider?

Maybe the medical school–trained provider becomes a consultant physician, much as the British and Canadian systems seem to work. She or he would see patients only after the advanced primary care provider has done an evaluation and is unsure of the next step. Would this be at the same site or electronically? Is there a time lag? In my old-school interpretation, if the visit is not the same day or maybe the next day then it doesn’t satisfy my Availability requirement of primary care.

I’m beginning to believe that the best role for the medical school–trained primary care specialist is someone who has a broad and deep understanding of the organizational issues around primary care. Primarily an educator who generally doesn’t see patients but instead trains advanced primary care providers, organizes them into teams that function to provide care in a timely fashion that emphasizes Continuity, and then performs ongoing, real time assessments to assure that care provided is at the highest level of Expertise.

It sounds like an interesting and challenging job description requiring a deep and broad education. Just not one that appeals to me. I would rather be a nurse practitioner or physician’s assistant who is on the front line and hands on.

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

If you are a pediatrician, babies are your bread and butter. In fact, they are the whole enchilada. Without them you are going to starve. Even if you are an adolescent medicine specialist, the pipeline feeding your business begins with babies. The number of babies entering the conveyor belt that eventually ends up in your office is something that should interest you. It probably doesn’t surprise you to learn that the fertility rate in this country has fallen. In fact, it has now dipped below the “replacement” threshold of 2.1%.

Another number that might interest you is ideal family size. In others words, the number of children American adults consider when they are envisioning the ideal family. You may be surprised to learn that despite the downward dip on the fertility rate during the 2007-2009 recession and the pandemic, a significant number of Americans still believe that the ideal family includes three children. Looking at the broader population, the ideal family is around 2.5 children, which is a number that is up a little from the 1990s but has scarcely changed over the last 5 decades. Obviously, there is a gap between what the population as a whole believes and the reality of how many children the fertile population is producing. And, there is research that suggests that this gap between personal intention and ideal family size is growing. In other words, people may be saying they believe bigger families are a good thing ... if everything is going well in their life.

What is behind this gap and why is it growing? As people are delaying building their families, realities and expectations collide. Some examples? The impact of their student loans is greater than they anticipated. Climate change and news stories focused on political uncertainty can be unsettling. A person may end up marrying someone who doesn’t concur with their view of an ideal family. Fertility problems crop up with advancing age. The first child may have presented more of a challenge both physically, emotionally, and economically than new parents had expected.

If we agree that the fertility rate is an important number for our survival as a profession, can we agree that because of this vested interest we should become involved in helping families widen this growing gap between their view of the ideal family size and the realities of actually producing that family?

Maybe we don’t need to get involved. When the national climate – meteorologically, politically, and economically – improves families will start making more babies. Right now maybe the better option is to adjust our business model to the fluctuations in demand.

On the other hand, we could ask the American Academy of Pediatrics to join with the American Academy of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and hire a big name advertising agency to launch an ad campaign encouraging young and not so young adults to have more children. However, this might appear rather transparent and self-serving.

The best option is probably to continue to do what we are already doing, but try to do it better. If the challenges of having a first child are a major deterrent to having a second child, we should redouble our efforts toward making, if only in retrospect, that first parenting experience rewarding and enjoyable. That could come in the form of speaking out for parental leave, breastfeeding-friendly workplaces, and more affordable daycare. But it could also come in those scores of encounters we have every day in the office where we give solid, realistic, and compassionate advice on breastfeeding, sleep hygiene, and behavior management. If we can make those tough first 6 months of parenting go more smoothly and make the twos seem less terrible, we may see the average family size in our practice grow before our eyes.

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

If you are a pediatrician, babies are your bread and butter. In fact, they are the whole enchilada. Without them you are going to starve. Even if you are an adolescent medicine specialist, the pipeline feeding your business begins with babies. The number of babies entering the conveyor belt that eventually ends up in your office is something that should interest you. It probably doesn’t surprise you to learn that the fertility rate in this country has fallen. In fact, it has now dipped below the “replacement” threshold of 2.1%.

Another number that might interest you is ideal family size. In others words, the number of children American adults consider when they are envisioning the ideal family. You may be surprised to learn that despite the downward dip on the fertility rate during the 2007-2009 recession and the pandemic, a significant number of Americans still believe that the ideal family includes three children. Looking at the broader population, the ideal family is around 2.5 children, which is a number that is up a little from the 1990s but has scarcely changed over the last 5 decades. Obviously, there is a gap between what the population as a whole believes and the reality of how many children the fertile population is producing. And, there is research that suggests that this gap between personal intention and ideal family size is growing. In other words, people may be saying they believe bigger families are a good thing ... if everything is going well in their life.

What is behind this gap and why is it growing? As people are delaying building their families, realities and expectations collide. Some examples? The impact of their student loans is greater than they anticipated. Climate change and news stories focused on political uncertainty can be unsettling. A person may end up marrying someone who doesn’t concur with their view of an ideal family. Fertility problems crop up with advancing age. The first child may have presented more of a challenge both physically, emotionally, and economically than new parents had expected.

If we agree that the fertility rate is an important number for our survival as a profession, can we agree that because of this vested interest we should become involved in helping families widen this growing gap between their view of the ideal family size and the realities of actually producing that family?

Maybe we don’t need to get involved. When the national climate – meteorologically, politically, and economically – improves families will start making more babies. Right now maybe the better option is to adjust our business model to the fluctuations in demand.

On the other hand, we could ask the American Academy of Pediatrics to join with the American Academy of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and hire a big name advertising agency to launch an ad campaign encouraging young and not so young adults to have more children. However, this might appear rather transparent and self-serving.

The best option is probably to continue to do what we are already doing, but try to do it better. If the challenges of having a first child are a major deterrent to having a second child, we should redouble our efforts toward making, if only in retrospect, that first parenting experience rewarding and enjoyable. That could come in the form of speaking out for parental leave, breastfeeding-friendly workplaces, and more affordable daycare. But it could also come in those scores of encounters we have every day in the office where we give solid, realistic, and compassionate advice on breastfeeding, sleep hygiene, and behavior management. If we can make those tough first 6 months of parenting go more smoothly and make the twos seem less terrible, we may see the average family size in our practice grow before our eyes.

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

If you are a pediatrician, babies are your bread and butter. In fact, they are the whole enchilada. Without them you are going to starve. Even if you are an adolescent medicine specialist, the pipeline feeding your business begins with babies. The number of babies entering the conveyor belt that eventually ends up in your office is something that should interest you. It probably doesn’t surprise you to learn that the fertility rate in this country has fallen. In fact, it has now dipped below the “replacement” threshold of 2.1%.

Another number that might interest you is ideal family size. In others words, the number of children American adults consider when they are envisioning the ideal family. You may be surprised to learn that despite the downward dip on the fertility rate during the 2007-2009 recession and the pandemic, a significant number of Americans still believe that the ideal family includes three children. Looking at the broader population, the ideal family is around 2.5 children, which is a number that is up a little from the 1990s but has scarcely changed over the last 5 decades. Obviously, there is a gap between what the population as a whole believes and the reality of how many children the fertile population is producing. And, there is research that suggests that this gap between personal intention and ideal family size is growing. In other words, people may be saying they believe bigger families are a good thing ... if everything is going well in their life.

What is behind this gap and why is it growing? As people are delaying building their families, realities and expectations collide. Some examples? The impact of their student loans is greater than they anticipated. Climate change and news stories focused on political uncertainty can be unsettling. A person may end up marrying someone who doesn’t concur with their view of an ideal family. Fertility problems crop up with advancing age. The first child may have presented more of a challenge both physically, emotionally, and economically than new parents had expected.

If we agree that the fertility rate is an important number for our survival as a profession, can we agree that because of this vested interest we should become involved in helping families widen this growing gap between their view of the ideal family size and the realities of actually producing that family?

Maybe we don’t need to get involved. When the national climate – meteorologically, politically, and economically – improves families will start making more babies. Right now maybe the better option is to adjust our business model to the fluctuations in demand.

On the other hand, we could ask the American Academy of Pediatrics to join with the American Academy of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and hire a big name advertising agency to launch an ad campaign encouraging young and not so young adults to have more children. However, this might appear rather transparent and self-serving.

The best option is probably to continue to do what we are already doing, but try to do it better. If the challenges of having a first child are a major deterrent to having a second child, we should redouble our efforts toward making, if only in retrospect, that first parenting experience rewarding and enjoyable. That could come in the form of speaking out for parental leave, breastfeeding-friendly workplaces, and more affordable daycare. But it could also come in those scores of encounters we have every day in the office where we give solid, realistic, and compassionate advice on breastfeeding, sleep hygiene, and behavior management. If we can make those tough first 6 months of parenting go more smoothly and make the twos seem less terrible, we may see the average family size in our practice grow before our eyes.

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

A few months ago I wrote a column in which I reluctantly supported designating obesity as a disease. My rationale was that in the more than 50 years that I have been watching the ebb and flow of medicine in this country I have seen very little, if any, evidence of success in our attempts to prevent obesity. Given this abysmal track record, the pragmatic side of my brain says why not label it a disease and begin to focus on treatment. However, I closed the column urging that we not lose sight of our core values and completely abandon any attempts at prevention.

As the months have rolled by, I have become increasingly concerned that preventing obesity is slipping further down the slippery slope to oblivion, greased by the success of semaglutide and the prospect of similar drugs in the pipeline. Before turning in our credentials as card-carrying preventionists, we need to step back and take another look at how we approach obesity from the pediatric side.

The majority of Americans believe that obesity occurs when an individual consumes more calories than he or she burns by being active. Some nutritionists criticize this “energy balance” model view as too simplistic and prefer a carbohydrate insulin model, which considers obesity as a metabolic disorder that is better managed by adjusting what the individual eats with less focus on amounts and the role of exercise. However, while the public may acknowledge that there are some individuals to whom genetics has dealt a more difficult hand, it continues to put a high priority on the dual roles of willpower and exercise. As effective obesity drugs become more available and remain safe, it is likely that willpower will no longer dominate the populous psyche.

But, what about children? At what point, if ever, does willpower enter the obesity discussion? A child may be able to exert some control over his or her diet by eating selectively. But, until the child acquires a certain level of resources and maturity it is parents who should be dictating the volume and variety of available food from which the child can choose. And, on the other side of the energy equation, parents should be playing a significant role in how much or how little physical activity their children engage in.

Of course there are many children whose genes predispose them to obesity when food is cheap and abundant. And, there are numerous families for whom socioeconomic factors limit their ability to control their children’s diet and activity options. However, we mustn’t lose sight of the fact that the majority of families may be making choices for their children that are contributing to the obesity problem in this country.

For example, a recent study published in Pediatrics has found that mean television viewing time during childhood and adolescence was associated with metabolic syndrome at age 45. Is this a failure on our part to anticipate this finding when for decades we as physicians have already seen anecdotal evidence to support it? Or is this another example of a willpower deficit by parents who likewise must have had an inkling that sitting on the couch watching television wasn’t healthy for their children?

Or is this just more evidence that as a nation we lack the political will to enact laws and develop programs aimed at heading off obesity in early childhood before it reaches the point that we have learned, from sad experience, is beyond the reach of dietary change, increased physical activity, and the fragility of normal human willpower. Here I’m talking about the disappearance of meaningful physical education in the schools, the failure to effectively prevent the marketing of poor nutritional foods and beverages to children, and the failure to aggressively promote universal breastfeeding-friendly workplaces and schedules, to name just a few.

As individuals we know all too well the limits of our own willpower. But, collectively as a nation we should be able to pool those fragmentary resources into a force for positive change. We may have thrown in the towel when we have opted to treat obesity as a disease in adults. Let’s find the will to work on prevention in early childhood when the window for change is still open.
 

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

A few months ago I wrote a column in which I reluctantly supported designating obesity as a disease. My rationale was that in the more than 50 years that I have been watching the ebb and flow of medicine in this country I have seen very little, if any, evidence of success in our attempts to prevent obesity. Given this abysmal track record, the pragmatic side of my brain says why not label it a disease and begin to focus on treatment. However, I closed the column urging that we not lose sight of our core values and completely abandon any attempts at prevention.

As the months have rolled by, I have become increasingly concerned that preventing obesity is slipping further down the slippery slope to oblivion, greased by the success of semaglutide and the prospect of similar drugs in the pipeline. Before turning in our credentials as card-carrying preventionists, we need to step back and take another look at how we approach obesity from the pediatric side.

The majority of Americans believe that obesity occurs when an individual consumes more calories than he or she burns by being active. Some nutritionists criticize this “energy balance” model view as too simplistic and prefer a carbohydrate insulin model, which considers obesity as a metabolic disorder that is better managed by adjusting what the individual eats with less focus on amounts and the role of exercise. However, while the public may acknowledge that there are some individuals to whom genetics has dealt a more difficult hand, it continues to put a high priority on the dual roles of willpower and exercise. As effective obesity drugs become more available and remain safe, it is likely that willpower will no longer dominate the populous psyche.

But, what about children? At what point, if ever, does willpower enter the obesity discussion? A child may be able to exert some control over his or her diet by eating selectively. But, until the child acquires a certain level of resources and maturity it is parents who should be dictating the volume and variety of available food from which the child can choose. And, on the other side of the energy equation, parents should be playing a significant role in how much or how little physical activity their children engage in.

Of course there are many children whose genes predispose them to obesity when food is cheap and abundant. And, there are numerous families for whom socioeconomic factors limit their ability to control their children’s diet and activity options. However, we mustn’t lose sight of the fact that the majority of families may be making choices for their children that are contributing to the obesity problem in this country.

For example, a recent study published in Pediatrics has found that mean television viewing time during childhood and adolescence was associated with metabolic syndrome at age 45. Is this a failure on our part to anticipate this finding when for decades we as physicians have already seen anecdotal evidence to support it? Or is this another example of a willpower deficit by parents who likewise must have had an inkling that sitting on the couch watching television wasn’t healthy for their children?

Or is this just more evidence that as a nation we lack the political will to enact laws and develop programs aimed at heading off obesity in early childhood before it reaches the point that we have learned, from sad experience, is beyond the reach of dietary change, increased physical activity, and the fragility of normal human willpower. Here I’m talking about the disappearance of meaningful physical education in the schools, the failure to effectively prevent the marketing of poor nutritional foods and beverages to children, and the failure to aggressively promote universal breastfeeding-friendly workplaces and schedules, to name just a few.

As individuals we know all too well the limits of our own willpower. But, collectively as a nation we should be able to pool those fragmentary resources into a force for positive change. We may have thrown in the towel when we have opted to treat obesity as a disease in adults. Let’s find the will to work on prevention in early childhood when the window for change is still open.
 

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

A few months ago I wrote a column in which I reluctantly supported designating obesity as a disease. My rationale was that in the more than 50 years that I have been watching the ebb and flow of medicine in this country I have seen very little, if any, evidence of success in our attempts to prevent obesity. Given this abysmal track record, the pragmatic side of my brain says why not label it a disease and begin to focus on treatment. However, I closed the column urging that we not lose sight of our core values and completely abandon any attempts at prevention.

As the months have rolled by, I have become increasingly concerned that preventing obesity is slipping further down the slippery slope to oblivion, greased by the success of semaglutide and the prospect of similar drugs in the pipeline. Before turning in our credentials as card-carrying preventionists, we need to step back and take another look at how we approach obesity from the pediatric side.

The majority of Americans believe that obesity occurs when an individual consumes more calories than he or she burns by being active. Some nutritionists criticize this “energy balance” model view as too simplistic and prefer a carbohydrate insulin model, which considers obesity as a metabolic disorder that is better managed by adjusting what the individual eats with less focus on amounts and the role of exercise. However, while the public may acknowledge that there are some individuals to whom genetics has dealt a more difficult hand, it continues to put a high priority on the dual roles of willpower and exercise. As effective obesity drugs become more available and remain safe, it is likely that willpower will no longer dominate the populous psyche.

But, what about children? At what point, if ever, does willpower enter the obesity discussion? A child may be able to exert some control over his or her diet by eating selectively. But, until the child acquires a certain level of resources and maturity it is parents who should be dictating the volume and variety of available food from which the child can choose. And, on the other side of the energy equation, parents should be playing a significant role in how much or how little physical activity their children engage in.

Of course there are many children whose genes predispose them to obesity when food is cheap and abundant. And, there are numerous families for whom socioeconomic factors limit their ability to control their children’s diet and activity options. However, we mustn’t lose sight of the fact that the majority of families may be making choices for their children that are contributing to the obesity problem in this country.

For example, a recent study published in Pediatrics has found that mean television viewing time during childhood and adolescence was associated with metabolic syndrome at age 45. Is this a failure on our part to anticipate this finding when for decades we as physicians have already seen anecdotal evidence to support it? Or is this another example of a willpower deficit by parents who likewise must have had an inkling that sitting on the couch watching television wasn’t healthy for their children?

Or is this just more evidence that as a nation we lack the political will to enact laws and develop programs aimed at heading off obesity in early childhood before it reaches the point that we have learned, from sad experience, is beyond the reach of dietary change, increased physical activity, and the fragility of normal human willpower. Here I’m talking about the disappearance of meaningful physical education in the schools, the failure to effectively prevent the marketing of poor nutritional foods and beverages to children, and the failure to aggressively promote universal breastfeeding-friendly workplaces and schedules, to name just a few.

As individuals we know all too well the limits of our own willpower. But, collectively as a nation we should be able to pool those fragmentary resources into a force for positive change. We may have thrown in the towel when we have opted to treat obesity as a disease in adults. Let’s find the will to work on prevention in early childhood when the window for change is still open.
 

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

Pediatric concussion is one of those rare phenomena in which we may be witnessing its emergence and clarification in a generation. When I was serving as the game doctor for our local high school football team in the 1970s, I and many other physicians had a very simplistic view of concussion. If the patient never lost conscious and had a reasonably intact short-term memory, we didn’t seriously entertain concussion as a diagnosis. “What’s the score and who is the president?” Were my favorite screening questions.

Obviously, we were underdiagnosing and mismanaging concussion. In part thanks to some high-profile athletes who suffered multiple concussions and eventually chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) physicians began to realize that they should be looking more closely at children who sustained a head injury. The diagnostic criteria were expanded to include any injury that even temporarily effected brain function.

With the new appreciation for the risk of multiple concussions, the focus broadened to include the question of when is it safe for the athlete to return to competition. What signs or symptoms can the patient offer us so we can be sure his or her brain is sufficiently recovered? Here we stepped off into a deep abyss of ignorance. Fortunately, it became obvious fairly quickly that imaging studies weren’t going to help us, as they were invariably normal or at least didn’t tell us anything that wasn’t obvious on a physical exam.

If the patient had a headache, complained of dizziness, or manifested amnesia, monitoring the patient was fairly straightforward. But, in the absence of symptoms and no obvious way to determine the pace of recovery of an organ we couldn’t visualize, clinicians were pulling criteria and time tables out of thin air. Guessing that the concussed brain was in some ways like a torn muscle or overstretched tendon, “brain rest” was often suggested. So no TV, no reading, and certainly none of the cerebral challenging activity of school. Fortunately, we don’t hear much about the notion of brain rest anymore and there is at least one study that suggests that patients kept home from school recover more slowly.

But there remains a significant number of patients who have persistent symptoms and are unable to resume their usual activities, including school and sports. Sometimes they describe headache or dizziness but often they complain of a vague mental unwellness. “Brain fog,” a term that has emerged in the wake of the COVID pandemic, might be an apt descriptor. Management of these slow recoverers has been a challenge.

However, two recent articles in the journal Pediatrics may provide some clarity and offer guidance in their management. In a study coming from the psychology department at Georgia State University, researchers reported that they have been able to find “no evidence of clinical meaningful differences in IQ after pediatric concussion.” In their words there is “strong evidence against reduced intelligence in the first few weeks to month after pediatric concussion.”

While their findings may simply toss the IQ onto the pile of worthless measures of healing, a companion commentary by Talin Babikian, PhD, a psychologist at the Semel Institute for Neuroscience and Human Behavior at UCLA, provides a more nuanced interpretation. He writes that if we are looking for an explanation when a patient’s recovery is taking longer than we might expect we need to look beyond some structural damage. Maybe the patient has a previously undiagnosed premorbid condition effecting his or her intellectual, cognitive, or learning abilities. Could the stall in improvement be the result of other symptoms? Here fatigue and sleep deprivation may be the culprits. Could some underlying emotional factor such as anxiety or depression be the problem? For example, I have seen patients whose fear of re-injury has prevented their return to full function. And, finally, the patient may be avoiding a “nonpreferred or challenging situation” unrelated to the injury.

In other words, the concussion may simply be the most obvious rip in a fabric that was already frayed and under stress. This kind of broad holistic (a word I usually like to avoid) thinking may be what is lacking as we struggle to understand other mysterious and chronic conditions such as Lyme disease and chronic fatigue syndrome.

While these two papers help provide some clarity in the management of pediatric concussion, what they fail to address is the bigger question of the relationship between head injury and CTE. The answers to that conundrum are enshrouded in a mix of politics and publicity that I doubt will clear in the near future.

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

Pediatric concussion is one of those rare phenomena in which we may be witnessing its emergence and clarification in a generation. When I was serving as the game doctor for our local high school football team in the 1970s, I and many other physicians had a very simplistic view of concussion. If the patient never lost conscious and had a reasonably intact short-term memory, we didn’t seriously entertain concussion as a diagnosis. “What’s the score and who is the president?” Were my favorite screening questions.

Obviously, we were underdiagnosing and mismanaging concussion. In part thanks to some high-profile athletes who suffered multiple concussions and eventually chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) physicians began to realize that they should be looking more closely at children who sustained a head injury. The diagnostic criteria were expanded to include any injury that even temporarily effected brain function.

With the new appreciation for the risk of multiple concussions, the focus broadened to include the question of when is it safe for the athlete to return to competition. What signs or symptoms can the patient offer us so we can be sure his or her brain is sufficiently recovered? Here we stepped off into a deep abyss of ignorance. Fortunately, it became obvious fairly quickly that imaging studies weren’t going to help us, as they were invariably normal or at least didn’t tell us anything that wasn’t obvious on a physical exam.

If the patient had a headache, complained of dizziness, or manifested amnesia, monitoring the patient was fairly straightforward. But, in the absence of symptoms and no obvious way to determine the pace of recovery of an organ we couldn’t visualize, clinicians were pulling criteria and time tables out of thin air. Guessing that the concussed brain was in some ways like a torn muscle or overstretched tendon, “brain rest” was often suggested. So no TV, no reading, and certainly none of the cerebral challenging activity of school. Fortunately, we don’t hear much about the notion of brain rest anymore and there is at least one study that suggests that patients kept home from school recover more slowly.

But there remains a significant number of patients who have persistent symptoms and are unable to resume their usual activities, including school and sports. Sometimes they describe headache or dizziness but often they complain of a vague mental unwellness. “Brain fog,” a term that has emerged in the wake of the COVID pandemic, might be an apt descriptor. Management of these slow recoverers has been a challenge.

However, two recent articles in the journal Pediatrics may provide some clarity and offer guidance in their management. In a study coming from the psychology department at Georgia State University, researchers reported that they have been able to find “no evidence of clinical meaningful differences in IQ after pediatric concussion.” In their words there is “strong evidence against reduced intelligence in the first few weeks to month after pediatric concussion.”

While their findings may simply toss the IQ onto the pile of worthless measures of healing, a companion commentary by Talin Babikian, PhD, a psychologist at the Semel Institute for Neuroscience and Human Behavior at UCLA, provides a more nuanced interpretation. He writes that if we are looking for an explanation when a patient’s recovery is taking longer than we might expect we need to look beyond some structural damage. Maybe the patient has a previously undiagnosed premorbid condition effecting his or her intellectual, cognitive, or learning abilities. Could the stall in improvement be the result of other symptoms? Here fatigue and sleep deprivation may be the culprits. Could some underlying emotional factor such as anxiety or depression be the problem? For example, I have seen patients whose fear of re-injury has prevented their return to full function. And, finally, the patient may be avoiding a “nonpreferred or challenging situation” unrelated to the injury.

In other words, the concussion may simply be the most obvious rip in a fabric that was already frayed and under stress. This kind of broad holistic (a word I usually like to avoid) thinking may be what is lacking as we struggle to understand other mysterious and chronic conditions such as Lyme disease and chronic fatigue syndrome.

While these two papers help provide some clarity in the management of pediatric concussion, what they fail to address is the bigger question of the relationship between head injury and CTE. The answers to that conundrum are enshrouded in a mix of politics and publicity that I doubt will clear in the near future.

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

Pediatric concussion is one of those rare phenomena in which we may be witnessing its emergence and clarification in a generation. When I was serving as the game doctor for our local high school football team in the 1970s, I and many other physicians had a very simplistic view of concussion. If the patient never lost conscious and had a reasonably intact short-term memory, we didn’t seriously entertain concussion as a diagnosis. “What’s the score and who is the president?” Were my favorite screening questions.

Obviously, we were underdiagnosing and mismanaging concussion. In part thanks to some high-profile athletes who suffered multiple concussions and eventually chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) physicians began to realize that they should be looking more closely at children who sustained a head injury. The diagnostic criteria were expanded to include any injury that even temporarily effected brain function.

With the new appreciation for the risk of multiple concussions, the focus broadened to include the question of when is it safe for the athlete to return to competition. What signs or symptoms can the patient offer us so we can be sure his or her brain is sufficiently recovered? Here we stepped off into a deep abyss of ignorance. Fortunately, it became obvious fairly quickly that imaging studies weren’t going to help us, as they were invariably normal or at least didn’t tell us anything that wasn’t obvious on a physical exam.

If the patient had a headache, complained of dizziness, or manifested amnesia, monitoring the patient was fairly straightforward. But, in the absence of symptoms and no obvious way to determine the pace of recovery of an organ we couldn’t visualize, clinicians were pulling criteria and time tables out of thin air. Guessing that the concussed brain was in some ways like a torn muscle or overstretched tendon, “brain rest” was often suggested. So no TV, no reading, and certainly none of the cerebral challenging activity of school. Fortunately, we don’t hear much about the notion of brain rest anymore and there is at least one study that suggests that patients kept home from school recover more slowly.

But there remains a significant number of patients who have persistent symptoms and are unable to resume their usual activities, including school and sports. Sometimes they describe headache or dizziness but often they complain of a vague mental unwellness. “Brain fog,” a term that has emerged in the wake of the COVID pandemic, might be an apt descriptor. Management of these slow recoverers has been a challenge.

However, two recent articles in the journal Pediatrics may provide some clarity and offer guidance in their management. In a study coming from the psychology department at Georgia State University, researchers reported that they have been able to find “no evidence of clinical meaningful differences in IQ after pediatric concussion.” In their words there is “strong evidence against reduced intelligence in the first few weeks to month after pediatric concussion.”

While their findings may simply toss the IQ onto the pile of worthless measures of healing, a companion commentary by Talin Babikian, PhD, a psychologist at the Semel Institute for Neuroscience and Human Behavior at UCLA, provides a more nuanced interpretation. He writes that if we are looking for an explanation when a patient’s recovery is taking longer than we might expect we need to look beyond some structural damage. Maybe the patient has a previously undiagnosed premorbid condition effecting his or her intellectual, cognitive, or learning abilities. Could the stall in improvement be the result of other symptoms? Here fatigue and sleep deprivation may be the culprits. Could some underlying emotional factor such as anxiety or depression be the problem? For example, I have seen patients whose fear of re-injury has prevented their return to full function. And, finally, the patient may be avoiding a “nonpreferred or challenging situation” unrelated to the injury.

In other words, the concussion may simply be the most obvious rip in a fabric that was already frayed and under stress. This kind of broad holistic (a word I usually like to avoid) thinking may be what is lacking as we struggle to understand other mysterious and chronic conditions such as Lyme disease and chronic fatigue syndrome.

While these two papers help provide some clarity in the management of pediatric concussion, what they fail to address is the bigger question of the relationship between head injury and CTE. The answers to that conundrum are enshrouded in a mix of politics and publicity that I doubt will clear in the near future.

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