July 9th, 2009 by DrRob in Better Health Network, True Stories
Tags: Acetaminophen, Coma, Family Medicine, Hepatology, Internal Medicine, Liver Failure, Liver Transplant, Pediatrics, Psychiatry, Suicide, Toxicology, Tylenol
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My worst night as a doctor was during my residency. I was working the pediatric ICU and admitted a young teenager who had tried to kill herself. Well, she didn’t really try to kill herself; she took a handful of Tylenol (acetaminophen) because some other girls had teased her.
On that night I watched as she went from a frightened girl who carried on a conversation, through agitation and into coma, and finally to death by morning. We did everything we could to keep her alive, but without a liver there is no chance of survival.
Over ten years later, I was called to the emergency room for a girl who was nauseated and a little confused, with elevated liver tests. I told the ER doctor to check an acetaminophen level and, sadly, it was elevated. She too had taken a handful of acetaminophen at an earlier time. She too was lucid and scared at the start of the evening. The last I saw of her was on the next day before she was sent to a specialty hospital for a liver transplant. I got the call later that next day with the bad news: she died.
The saddest thing about both of these kids is that they both thought they were safe. The handful of pills was a gesture, not meant to harm themselves. They were like most people; they didn’t know that this medication that is ubiquitous and reportedly safe can be so deadly. But when they finally learned this, it was too late. They are both dead. Suicides? Technically, but not in reality.
For these children the problem was that symptoms of toxicity may not show up until it is too late. People often get nausea and vomiting with acute overdose, but if the treatment isn’t initiated within 8-10 hours, the risk of going to liver failure is high. Once enough time passes, it is rare that the person can be cured without liver transplant.
Acetaminophen overdose is the #1 cause of liver failure in the US. According to a Reuters article, there are 1600 cases of liver failure from this drug per year (2007). This is a huge number. In comparison consider that the cholesterol drug Cerivastatin (Baycol) was withdrawn from the market when there were 31 deaths from rhabdomyalysis (severe muscle break-down, which is far more common than liver failure in these drugs). These happened mainly when the drug was used in combination with another cholesterol drug.
Should the drug be pulled from the market? No, it is safe when used properly. The toxic dose is generally 10 times the therapeutic dose. My complaint is not that they have dangerous drugs available; ALL drugs should be considered dangerous. Aspirin, decongestants, anti-inflammatories, and even antacids can be toxic if taken in high dose. The problems with acetaminophen stem from several factors:
- Most people don’t realize the danger.
- There has been very little public education and no significant warning labels on the packages.
- The drug is often hidden in combination with other drugs, including prescription narcotics and over-the-counter cold medications. This means that a person can take excess medication without knowing it.
I would advocate putting warning labels on medications containing this drug. I am sure this doesn’t thrill the drug manufacturers, but the goal is not to make them happy. I have thought this since that terrible night during residency. If there was such a warning, perhaps she wouldn’t have died.
It seems a bit silly that this action by the FDA is coming after their pulling of children’s cough/cold medications. Those drugs have very small numbers of true harmful overdoses. The reason they were pulled was probably more that they didn’t do anything over the fact that they were dangerous. Acetaminophen, on the other hand, can be deadly.
Just ask the parents of my two patients.
*This blog post was originally published at Musings of a Distractible Mind*
July 8th, 2009 by KerriSparling in Better Health Network, Patient Interviews, True Stories
Tags: Diabetes, Diagnosis, Endocrinology, Family Medicine, Fear Of Needles, insulin, Internal Medicine, Pancreas, Type 1 Diabetes
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After a hectic week with the conference in Philly and then Chris’s great news, I need to spend some time today catching up on everything. Thankfully, Jessica Phillips has offered to guest post today, writing about marking 500 days with type 1 diabetes. She’s come a long way, and I’m proud to host her words here on SUM.
Heeeeeeere’s Jessica!
* * *
As I was injecting myself with insulin on a lunch break at work, a co-worker walked by and exclaimed, “I could
never do that! EW! I hate needles!” Less than two years ago I might have agreed. I never had a strong phobia of needles, but that is not to say that I particularly liked them either. I was known in my childhood to run out of doctor’s offices into the parking lot at the first mention of “shot”. Now when I hear such a strong and callous remark to my now normal routine of insulin injections, I struggle with trying not to angrily reply, “Well you would have to give yourself shots if you had to in order to live!” or, “How do you think I feel? You think I want to do this?” I’ve learned as of late to simply smile and say, “It’s not easy.”
Reactions like this are commonplace for those of you who have experienced Type One Diabetes for many years, and even some for the majority of your life. For me, June 9th, 2009 marked my 500th day with type 1 diabetes. I was diagnosed in my hometown of San Diego, California on January 25th, 2008 at 26 years-old. For a couple months prior to diagnosis I had been experiencing the typical signs of hyperglycemia and a failing pancreas as I was constantly dehydrated, urinating, and tired. Being a college student and in a constant state of stress, I quickly attributed the majority of my symptoms, from dizziness to infections, to be solely related to my immune system’s battle with my constant stress. After many weeks of procrastinating, I finally urged my doctor to order a blood test. I went in to the lab on January 23rd and was called by my doctor 24 hours later while I was driving to school. The tone in her voice immediately caught my attention and set me in a state of alarm. She informed me that my blood sugar the day before was above 300 mg/dL and I was to avoid sugar and be referred to an endocrinologist immediately.
Luckily I was able to see an experienced endocrinologist the next day, and he diagnosed me with type 1 within minutes of being seated in the exam room. I was in complete shock, and felt confused, angry, and overwhelmingly sad all at the same time. I felt a struggle between trying to remain alert to the bombardment of information he was feeding me, and trying desperately not to cry. The doctor left the room to retrieve my new meter and insulin pens, and I lost it. Luckily I had some moral support with me, but I have never felt so alone and lost. I kept thinking, “how did this happen?” and, “what did I do wrong?” To have gone many years without having anything major occur medically, not even a broken bone, it was a major shock to hear I had something irreversibly wrong with me. I not only had something wrong, but I could not do anything to change it.
The next few days were extremely challenging to say the least. I was unable to give myself insulin and had to have someone else do it for me for the first couple days. I would sit and look at the needle and could not conceive of how this tiny piece of metal was going to go through my skin. I just kept thinking it was so wrong, and foreign. I also cried. A lot. And I researched online and in books so much that I felt as though I could speak at a lecture on the biology of diabetes. I found the knowledge empowering, and the more I grasped what my body was actually doing, and not doing, I became more confident in my ability to control my state.
Now, 500 days later, this diabetic routine is normal to me. I can hardly even remember a time when diabetes wasn’t on my mind. The memories have faded of when my blood sugar was not a concern, and when I was able to look at food as just food. The last year and a half has been a giant emotional roller coaster, full of ups and downs, but they have changed me. Sometimes I get the look of sympathy from others when I detail my hardships with this disease, anywhere from medical costs to just the simple annoyance of pricking myself all the time, and I have found myself realizing that although I would not choose to have this disease, I consider myself lucky. I am lucky of course to not have something worse, but having gone through this change has made me look at my life through a new and clearer lens. My bottom-line now is a cliché idea, but it is so true … life is short, and you only get one shot, so make it worth it, no matter what.
* * *
Thanks for sharing your story, Jessica. (And for the record, Jessica is the one with the fantastic hair on the right in that photo. Also for the record, I just realized that today is my 8,209th day with diabetes. Holy crap, my pancreas is lazy.)
*This blog post was originally published at Six Until Me.*
July 8th, 2009 by Dr. Val Jones in Health Policy, True Stories
Tags: CMS, Costs, Emergency Medicinre, Failure Of Synthesis, Finance, headache, Healthcare reform, Medicare, Primary Care, Radiology, shingles, zoster
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My mother-in-law just had a CT scan of her head in the Emergency Department of her local hospital. My husband called me to ask if I could “talk to her about her headache.”
Severe headaches in the elderly are indeed worrisome, and I wondered if she had fallen recently – if she might have a bleed in her brain requiring immediate surgery. Of course, she’d need a CT scan to rule that out… I was prepared for the worst. But what I learned by simply talking to Mrs. Zlotkus was unexpectedly revealing – not only about her diagnosis but about our healthcare system in general.
As it turns out, Mrs. Zlotkus had been having severe headaches for about 3 months. She was taking Vicodin daily to “take the edge off.” When I asked her about the location of the pain, she said that it was “just on one side of my head, from the top of my neck to the top of my head.” I asked her if the pain sometimes traveled to the other side, or if it involved her eye. “Never,” was her quick response. She also told me that she’d been seeing a physical therapist for 2.5 months for neck stretching exercises.
Mrs. Zlotkus told me her CT scan was negative, and that her blood tests didn’t show any “temporary arthritis.” (That’s temporal arteritis, I presume.)
“Well,” I said, “There’s only one thing left that I can think of that will give you a headache in the exact area you’re describing – and that’s shingles. Did you notice any scabs or painful bumps on your scalp when the headaches first started?”
“Why, yes!” Said Mrs. Zlotkus. “About 3 months ago I noticed some very painful, crusty scabs on my scalp. I thought for sure it was because my hairdresser used extra strong chemicals on my hair. I scolded her for it. She told me to put tea tree oil on it.”
Oh, boy. There it was – a diagnosis as plain as the nose on her face.
“Um… Well did you tell the ER docs about the scabs?”
“No. They never asked me about it and I didn’t see what my hairdresser’s chemical burn had to do with my severe headaches.”
My mother-in-law’s work up (ER visit, CT scan, several doctor visits, pain medicines), misdiagnosis (neck muscle stiffness), and mistreatment (physical therapy) for shingles probably cost upwards of $10,000. Worse than that, she did not get anti-viral treatment early enough in her outbreak to prevent a long-lasting pain syndrome (called post-herpetic neuralgia). Now that she has this shingles-related headache, it’s very hard to treat. And taking lots of acetaminophen-rich medications (Vicodin) is the last thing her liver needs right now.
So how did the healthcare system fail Mrs. Zlotkus? In my opinion, this is a great example of the “failure of synthesis” that Evan Falchuk discusses on his See First blog. Somehow, the physicians involved in Mrs. Zlotkus’ care didn’t take the time to think about her symptoms, to ask the right questions, and to put all the puzzle pieces together. Instead, they just ruled out the potential emergency issues (a stroke/hemorrhage, or temporal arteritis) and gave her a follow up appointment with a neurologist (who couldn’t fit her in their schedule for 2 months). They didn’t take a full history – they just dumped her in the most likely diagnostic category (neck stiffness) and let some other specialist follow up. Shameful.
I’ve described more egregious examples of hasty medical care on this blog – consider the case of an elderly woman (the mother of a friend of mine) who was misdiagnosed with “end stage dementia” when she really had acute delirium from an overdose of diuretics… Or the case of my girlfriend who was mistaken in the ER for a drug seeker when she was suffering from a kidney stone.
Sometimes I feel as if I have to keep an eye on all my friends and family before they set foot in a hospital, ER, or doctor’s office. I’m afraid that those providing their care will be so rushed and thoughtless that my loved ones will wind up with a huge bill, the wrong diagnosis, and perhaps even a near-death experience. I am seriously afraid for them.
The bottom line is that we have to stop rewarding providers for volume over quality. We have to value the history and physical exam beyond the CT scan and lab tests. We have to give doctors the chance to think about their patients – rather than turn up the speed dial on the clinical treadmills as a means to reduce costs.
My mother-in-law just spent $10,000 of our tax dollars on a diagnosis that could be made in 5 minutes of thoughtful questioning over the telephone. Multiply that cost by the number of other Medicare beneficiaries who are suffering similar misdiagnoses in this country and we’re talking serious money.
Under-thinking leads to over-testing. Has the CBO taken that into consideration in its scoring of various reform plans? I don’t think so. To me, this is yet another reason why we need physicians at the table in healthcare reform – we see the real cost drivers that others might not think of – even if some of us are too busy to diagnose shingles correctly!
July 7th, 2009 by Emergiblog in Better Health Network, True Stories
Tags: copays, Emergency Medicine, entitlement, Free, Health Insurance, healthcare, Nursing, premiums
1 Comment »
Why shouldn’t we have to pay for our health care?
Why….we don’t have that sort of money!!! How dare you even suggest that we should pay!!!!
We manage to buy cigarettes. We manage to buy fast food. Often. We manage to get all the channels we want via cable or satellite television. Some of us even have satellite radio in our cars. And GPS. Our cell phones are really nice, but all that texting costs a pretty penny. We drop a few bucks at Starbucks every week without thinking twice.
And then we roll our eyes when we have to pay for….god forbid…..health care!
*****
Think I’m heartless? Think I’m an elitist?
Think I’m talking about the Medicare patients in my ER who bring in a super-sized number 8 from McDonalds for the entire family and hold out their right arm for a BP while they text rapidly with their left hand?
I could be.
But I’m not.
The patient rolling their eyes at having to pay was me.
*****
Yeah.
Me.
Showed up for a colonoscopy yesterday and the receptionist went over what would and would not be covered by my insurance.
My out-of-pocket payment would be $216.
And my first thought was “why the hell am I paying anything out of pocket for this? I have insurance!”
I was ticked.
*****
But why was I ticked?
Why shouldn’t I have to incur out-of-pocket expenses?
I have insurance. Good insurance. Insurance I don’t pay a single penny for. It’s a benefit I get from my employer for working 24 hours a week.
Did I think I was entitled to full coverage because I was insured?
Entitled?
Me?
*****
Isn’t that term used to describe some patients who get their health care for “free” through a public plan?
Well, I get my coverage for “free”, too, and god help me, the emotion I felt in that office yesterday was “entitlement”.
Now I understand.
And I won’t use that term again.
Ever.
*This blog post was originally published at Emergiblog*
June 30th, 2009 by KerriSparling in Better Health Network, Humor, True Stories
Tags: Apples, Diabetes, Embarrassing, Falling Down, Fruit, Grocery Store, Mishap
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Last night after work, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things on my way home. The place was post-work packed.
I was wearing a dress with a bit of a busy print, and loud, clacking heels, so I wasn’t really a shrinking violet. But it wasn’t a big deal to be a bit over-dressed for grocery shopping – I was just running in and running out as quickly as I could.
I go to the produce section and fill my cart with a few items, then I remember that Chris asked me to get fruit. So I went over to the selection of apples, which had apparently just been refilled, as they were piled high. High as in like two dozen levels of red, shiny apples. With a plastic bag in my hand, I reached out and grabbed an apple. And then another.
And then I reached for a third.
Which must have been precariously placed.
As every apple in the stack came tumbling towards me. Like in a cartoon.
“OOOOH!” I yelled, whipping my arms around like a windmill in effort to stop the avalanche.
“OOOOH!” I yelled, as I pressed myself against the side of the shelving to keep the apples from hitting the floor, letting them pile up against me instead.
“OOOOH!” I yelled as the apples created a slope against my body and then starting falling faster from the tower, rocketing off my shoulder and flying high into the air.
“OOOOH!” The woman a few feet away yelled, as an apple ricocheted off the shelving and landed in her cart.
I was dying of embarrassment. The apples were hitting the floor with a loud thunk and people were staring and the grocery store produce guys were running over, trying to help, but their laughter rendered them useless.
“Oh my God, please make this stop. Please, can you just make the apples stop their onslaught!” I pleaded, my arms filled with fruit.
The produce guy closest to me tried to stem the flow of apples, but it was fruitless. These apples were powered by inertia and determined to make a spectacle of me.
“Miss, you need to step away from the apples so we can clean them up. Can you move back a few steps?”
“If I move, all the ones I’m holding will fall. And then I will die of shame.” I tried to talk without moving my mouth, as to not further enrage the apples.
The produce guy tried to hide his laughter. “Miss, step away from the apples. I’m ready to deal with them. In three … two … one …”
I moved back and all the apples I was holding in my arms tumbled to the ground with a SMACK. A sea of large, red marbles on the tile floor. My face was as red as an … well, you can guess.
“Can I help you clean up? Or can I go? Can I just walk away and pretend this didn’t happen?”
“Run, lady. You might want to run.”
I fumbled for my purse and my grocery cart and tried to eek away gracefully (as gracefully as one can, with loud heels and a noticeable dress), turning my ankle on an apple only once. People were smirking and laughing, and one old man started to applaud.
I left the grocery store, my face on fire and laughing to myself. I called my mother from my car and told her the story through my embarrassment and tears of laughter.
“I think I’m channeling Grammie,” I said.
“Oh Kerri … you’re right,” my mother laughed. “Grammie was known for wearing platform shoes in the grocery store and falling over at the deli counter. And you know what? I wore platform shoes to the deli counter when I was your age and I fell over, too! It’s hereditary!”
Note to self: Do not buy platform shoes.
*This blog post was originally published at Six Until Me.*
