July 26th, 2009 by scanman in Better Health Network, True Stories
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via The Trial of a WhiteCoat – Part 14.
The radiologist that read the film had a habit of going to the surgeons the following day and asking them what they had found. He would open up a blank report so that it looked as if it was dictated at the time of the exam, but would then hold the reports as “preliminary” and finalize them after dictating in the results of the surgeries. That way it looked like he had picked up on all these small findings before anyone else knew about them. He was a decent radiologist, so no one seemed to mind that he was adding all these findings after the fact. Now it burned me.
I’m offended.
No.
That’s too light.
I’m pissed off as hell.
I believe the Americans call this kind of thing “Monday morning quarterbacking.”
Whatever you might call it, this is cheating in my book.
I don’t know why they let that radiologist get away with this kind of behaviour.
Moreover, I can’t believe that anyone would take the man’s reports seriously, leave alone the surgeons that he got information from. If by chance I was a surgeon in that hospital, I would intentionally throw him red herrings.
In case you haven’t been following Whitecoat’s account of his malpractice case, see previous posts of his epic saga here. Far better than reading any crime/legal thriller, cheap or otherwise. John Grisham could take lessons from Whitecoat.
*This blog post was originally published at scan man's notes*
July 15th, 2009 by Medgadget in Better Health Network, Expert Interviews, Health Policy, News
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A team at Johns Hopkins has coordinated the world’s largest kidney swap, involving sixteen patients in multiple medical centers across the US. One of the donors was the vice president of human resources at Johns Hopkins Health System, a woman who has promoted organ donation and finally got a chance to do the ultimate charity work herself.
Johns Hopkins reports:
An altruistic donor started the domino effect. Altruistic donors are those willing to donate a kidney to any needy recipient. Just like falling dominoes, the altruistic donor kidney went to a recipient from one of the incompatible pairs, that recipient’s donor’s kidney went to a recipient from a second pair and so on. The last remaining kidney from the final incompatible pair went to a recipient who had been on the United Network for Organ Sharing (UNOS) waiting list.
As part of this complex procedure, Johns Hopkins flew one kidney to Henry Ford, one kidney to INTEGRIS Baptist and one kidney to Barnes-Jewish, In exchange, Henry Ford, INTEGRIS Baptists and Barnes Jewish each flew a kidney to Johns Hopkins.
The 16 surgeries were performed on four different dates, June 15, June 16, June 22 and July 6. The 10 surgeons in charge included four at Johns Hopkins, two at INTEGRIS Baptist, two at Barnes-Jewish and two at Henry Ford.
Johns Hopkins surgeons performed one of the first KPD transplants in the United States in 2001, the first triple-swap in 2003, the first double and triple domino transplant in 2005, the first five-way domino transplant in 2006 and the first six-way domino transplant in 2007. Johns Hopkins also performed the first multihospital, transcontinental three-way swap transplant in 2007 and the first multihospital, transcontinental six-way swap transplant in 2009.
Nearly 100 medical professionals took part in the transplants, including immunogeneticists, anesthesiologists, operating room nurses, nephrologists, transfusion medicine physicians, critical care doctors, nurse coordinators, technicians, social workers, psychologists, pharmacists, financial coordinators and administrative support people.
*This blog post was originally published at Medgadget*
June 29th, 2009 by Shadowfax in Better Health Network, Opinion
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Surgery Residency, Massachusetts General Hospital and Work Limits – Health Blog – WSJ
It’s not surprising that newly minted doctors at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country, and in a specialty with a particularly demanding residency, have been violating national limits on work hours.
But the Boston Globe’s report that Massachusetts General Hospital must rein in surgical residents’ hours is a reminder that the work limits put in place several years ago remain unpopular with many residents and senior doctors.
Not surprising in the least. I’m actually astonished that there’s anybody with the chutzpah to defend extended work hours for residents. I did my residency largely in the pre-hour-restriction era — there were hour restrictions on months in the ER, but effectively none for the off-service rotations — and it was a terrible way to deliver care. I did my time of q3 call in the units and q2 call on surgical services. This includes a memorable time when I was the sole intern on the pediatric surgical service and was on duty for ten days straight without leaving the hospital. That gives a new meaning to being a “resident physician!” (Actually, that’s the original meaning, if you must get picky about it.)
The care provided was just scary. I prided myself on being a machine and able to get through 36 hours of uninterrupted work without cracking; I used to run marathons and endurance was my forte. And I did get through it better than most. But after 24 hours with no down time (and there was never meaningful down time), you get stupid, and you make mistakes. I remember once, in the medical ICU I was surprised in morning rounds to find that one of my patients had had a swann-ganz catheter placed overnight. Caught flat-footed by this in front of the attending, I asked the nurse who had put in a swann without telling me, only to be informed that I had done the procedure! Apparently I was too sleep-addled to recall that I had done it! Fortunately, I had apparently done it right, because a swann involves threading a catheter through the heart into the pulmonary vessels and can be Very Bad [tm] if you screw it up. But I apparently did it by reflex without actually achieving a state of full wakefulness. This sort of thing was fairly routine, and I also remember well the overnight residents being excoriated in morning rounds for the errors and misjudgments they had made overnight. Great training, but not so great for the patients who were the victims of the mistakes.
It seems to me that the defenders of the status quo have donned their rose-colored glasses. They fondly remember the camaraderie and the pride in accomplishment that their residencies evoked, while conveniently forgetting the mistakes and omissions, while neglecting the depression and divorces and other personal costs of such an abusive training environment. And there’s the faux toughness: “I got through it, they can, too if they’re not too weak.” And the old guard romanticize the qualities of the “true physician” in their dedication to their patients above all else: “These younger doctors just don’t care enough.”
What a load of crap.
Look, it’s with damn good cause that other professions in which errors can hurt people have work time restrictions (truck drivers, airline pilots, etc), and it’s stupid and arrogant to think that we physicians are so awesome that we are immune to the human factors of fatigue and circadian rhythms that contribute to errors. When it’s inexperienced trainees working the ridiculous hours with minimal supervision (in many cases), the potential for fatigue-related errors is compounded.
I also question the motivations of some of those who defend the status quo. It seems strangely self-serving that residency directors who would otherwise have to find attending physicians or PAs to perform the work that residents do on the government’s dime are the ones to insist that the situation is just fine, or that “the evidence of benefit is lacking.” How cool is it that they can ignore reams of research on human factors, take the a priori position that the system is fine as it is, and demand formal evidence on “efficacy, safety and cost” before making any changes? That’s balls! It’s also fairly blatant obstructionism and should not be given any credence.
Dr Bob of Medrants has some thoughtful comments on the matter, mostly pleading for flexibility in the new rules. I would mostly agree, excepting that flexibility is best given to those who have proven themselves trustworthy, and residency directors (especially but not exclusively of surgical training programs) have repeatedly and flagrantly flouted the rules thus far imposed. Flexibility is fine, but accountability should also be demanded.
I would also take issue with Dr Bob’s comment that this “training system that has served our profession well for many years.” I look at the statistics on physician burnout, substance abuse, divorce, depression and suicide. They are terribly concerning. I would not lay all of this at the feet of residency, but I would say that the abusive (I’m sorry, “rigorous”) environment of residency training sets the tone for the culture of machismo that harms physicians as much as it harms patients. Nobody is well-served by the current system.
It is true that change might be painful. Reducing hours might mean reducing patient contacts and reducing the training opportunities for physicians. This might require academic centers to revalue the time of physicians in training, by which I mean that residents might no longer be used as free menial laborers. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to have a surgical resident “running the book” — many surgical residents never see the inside of the OR till their second and third years. The universities might have to hire PAs or NPs for the “scut work” instead of using MDs in training as glorified secretaries (what a waste of time and money).
I’m glad the Institue of Medicine and the ACGME seem to be on the right path with the recommendations. The reactionary response from the change-resistant academic centers will take some time and political will to overcome. I remember when they first imposed the rules, they followed it up by decertifying the Internal Medicine program at Hopkins for violating the rules. That effected the desired change, I can tell you! Hopefully, as the restrictions evolve, there will be accountability and enforcement until the culture starts to shift.
*This blog post was originally published at Movin' Meat*
June 28th, 2009 by Bongi in Better Health Network, True Stories
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In the old days sometimes confrontation was the only way to get things done. But sometimes anger lead one into useless and unnecessary confrontation. I recently spent some time with my old friend, swimmer’s chest and a story came to mind when that swimmer’s chest saved me from my own anger.
We were on call together. Quite early in the day the chemotherapist called me. He had apparently put a patient on the emergency list the previous day for a portacath and the case didn’t get done. This was due to the fact that the emergency list first did critical cases like actively bleeding patients before they did relatively stable patients. Something like a portacath would tend to get shifted down the list and may even stand over to the next day. This is what had happened here. He now wanted me to do the case.
“Sure I’ll do it” I said. “As long as it’s on the list as soon as it comes up I’ll be there.”
“I want it done now!” he retorted. I was not impressed.
“Well phone the anaesthetist on call and motivate for him to move it up the list.” I said helpfully.
“That is not my job! You will do that!”
It was clear we had a communication problem. Whenever I had a telephonic communication problem I would put down the phone and take the effort to go to the relevant person to sort it out face to face. Not only does it help to speak things out in person but the walk usually gave me time to calm down (there was more than enough residual anger in those old days to go around). This is what I did here. I turned to swimmer’s chest and told him to accompany me. Off we set at speed.
We walked into the chemotherapy ward and asked to see the relevant doctor. Soon he was there in front of me. swimmer’s chest hung back. I introduced myself and explained that I was more than willing to do the surgery but I had no control over the order of the list. That was entirely in the hands of the anaesthetists. If he felt the case needed to be done before the other cases on the emergency list then he should phone the anaesthetist and discuss it with him.
“You will phone the anaesthetist yourself and you will do this case right now!” he said.
I could feel my anger slowly turning into fury.
“No! you will!” as I said it I clenched my fists and took a step towards him. Swimmer’s chest realised things were on the verge of going south. He later told me he thought I was going to punch the guy. I denied this, but the thought was going through my mind at the time, I confess.
So my good friend stepped in front of me with his broad chest and nudged me backwards. He then started speaking to the chemo doc in a calm diplomatic voice. He also subtly and slowly (almost so one didn’t notice) ushered the guy further and further away from me. By the end of it we left with the chemo guy feeling that we were there for him and would do all we could. I don’t think he even had an idea of how enraged he had made me.
Walking away swimmer’s chest asked me if I was mad. I had only a few month’s of training left and something stupid like getting into a fight was just about all that could stand in the way of me becoming a surgeon.
Those times in the end brought out the worst in me. By the end of my studies I knew I needed to get away from it all. I had very nearly become something I did not like. After leaving pretoria I gradually rediscovered the true me again. It was still there to my relief.
*This blog post was originally published at other things amanzi*
June 26th, 2009 by scanman in Better Health Network, True Stories
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…
I was called to do an urgent bedside ultrasound scan of the abdomen for a trauma victim.
The patient was a young man of twenty-four who had been involved in a road traffic accident (RTA = MVA in US medical terminology). He had been brought – without any kind of basic life support – after sustaining a major trauma at a village about two hours away. The intensivist in the ICU told me that he was in severe hypovolemic shock on admission with a GCS of 4. Preliminary examination and radiographs had shown a comminuted fracture of the right femur (thigh bone) with a large hematoma and some facial bone fractures. After initial assessment and resuscitation in the casualty, a CT scan was done. He had a fracture in the frontal bone and a few small contusions in the brain, that raised the possibility of Diffuse Axonal Injury, nothing that could explain a GCS of 4 though. The assumption was that it was all due to extensive blood loss and hypovolemia. He was shifted straight to the ICU after the CT scan and I was called to do an ultrasound scan to check for hemoperitoneum (ie, abdominal injury and blood loss).
The scan was normal. As I was doing the scan, the intensivist was busy trying to put in a Subclavian central line. He secured the line just as I finished my scan, which incidentally was normal. As I was stepping away from the bed, the patient had a cardiac arrest, as evidenced by sudden bradycardia on the monitor. I moved out of the way as the intensivist, orthopaedic surgeon and ICU nurses went through a full resuscitation protocol. After a while, even I realized that it seemed like a futile exercise.
I was not particularly busy, so I peeped into to the Cardiac ICU next door as there seemed to be some commotion there. My cardiologist colleague, a normally friendly soul was peering intently at a very fast heart rhythm on a monitor over the bed of a young girl of about six or seven. There were a couple of nurses injecting something slowly into an intravenous cannula in the kid’s forearm. In passing, I noted that the kid was very calm and seemed very interested in what the nurse was doing. I stepped close to my friend and asked what was up. He turned, gave me a quick nervous smile and said he was trying to revert an SVT (supraventricular tachycardia, a very nasty fast heart rhythm). Honestly, I had never seen an SVT in someone so young, so I asked him what was the history. He told me the kid was brought by her mother to his outpatient clinic a short while ago because she complained of palpitations (I forgot the exact description used by the kid, but it was quite descriptive). My friend said he was sure it was an SVT after a quick examination in the clinic, so he rushed the kid upstairs to the Cardiac ICU, connected her to a monitor, confirmed the diagnosis and had ordered Adenosine IV stat for reversal. He maintained his intent survey of the monitor as he recounted the story and the nurse continued her slow IV injection. At one particular point when the line on the monitor became particularly squiggly, he shouted, “STOP!” and the nurse stopped injecting.
…
It was almost magical.
…
The squiggles became a recognizable cardiac rhythm, albeit very fast – about 160 to 170 beats per minute. My friend called out to one of the superfluous nursing attendants and asked them to get the kid’s mother inside. A very anxious young lady who had obviously been weeping was led in. My friend showed her the monitor and explained to her that the nasty rhythm had been made to behave itself or something to that effect and told her that the kid was out of any imminent danger.
Happy with the positive outcome, I strolled out to be confronted by a wailing family, including two young girls, maybe a year or two older than the calm kid inside, who had just been told that their older brother who fell off his motorbike was dead.
It was past my work hours. I went out and had a drink and reflected.
Such is life.
…
*This blog post was originally published at scan man's notes*
