Month: February 2015

Categories
Innovation Lifestyle

Pathographies

“Illness is the night side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.”
– Susan Sontag, Illness as a Metaphor

Words are important. They allow us to meet on a common ground, to share experiences and learn from each other. They can evoke every emotion and open new friendships. They can also be therapeutic, and a way to fill the gap between doctor and patient.

Pathographies, defined by the Oxford Dictionary as ‘the study of the life of an individual or the history of a community with regard to the influence of a particular disease or psychological disorder’, have become more popular over the years (1). Walk into any bookstore and you will eventually come across the healthcare corner: a small stack of books by people who have crossed the abyss into the land of ill health. Such stories speak of hope, love, loss, and despair as patients and their families come to terms with the sudden invasion into their lives. Treading through illness can be an isolating experience, filled with pain and uncertainty.

The Database of Individual Patient Experience is a UK-based charity that runs two websites: healthtalk.org and youthhealthtalk.org. It was created by Dr Ann McPherson, a GP who was diagnosed with breast cancer, but found that she had no one to talk to and share her experiences with. As a result, these websites are filled with patient’s experiences of their illnesses, how they coped, and their family’s reactions. Such websites can open a common ground for those who are suffering, those who are newly diagnosed, and the friends and family who may want to learn about how they can help.

“I am tired of hiding, tired of misspent and knotted energies, tired of the hypocrisy, and tired of acting as though I have something to hide.”
– Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind

How can they help us?

Pathographies are about putting the patient at the heart of healthcare and asking the question: can I truly understand what a person is going through if I have never suffered that ailment myself? By putting experiences into words a bridge is created, allowing those of us who work in healthcare to reach out that bit further. These stories can help us to take a step back from our jargon-filled lives; to not see the routine dialysis, but the precious hours spent with the husband; not the dry numbers of oxygen steadily increasing upon the hospital charts, but the feeling of accomplishment when one is able to take that first breath unaided. Illness is not just a list of problems that need to be crossed off. It is a continuous process filled with dark corners and dead ends.

In an increasingly globalized world, an appreciation of the cultural diversity lying upon our doorsteps is ever more needed. Everyone experiences illness in a different way. The culture we grew up in influences how we look at ailments (3) and the way we handle pain (2). It is through Pathographies that these worlds of illness and health are brought together, creating a narrative that allows us to delve inside the patient’s mind regardless of ethnicity or race. We look beyond the clinical terms, the graphs and the numbers, and not only does this help us to see the patient through a broader lens, it also breaks barriers with the next person we meet. This cultural understanding allows us to look after the ill in the way that they want to be treated – with dignity and compassion. It puts control back in the person’s hands at a time when chaos reigns. Pathographies can help to break the formulaic clinical story. A person is not a machine with a broken part, but an autonomous being with desires and goals, whose need for help cannot always be fit into a category.

All too often we can get caught up in the stereotypes: the smoker with COPD, the teenage overdose, the forty-year-old female with gallstones. We must remember our own biases as we sit in our staffrooms: our own assumptions built from our privileged educations. We no longer live in the world of the authoritative doctor dressed in his white coat. Instead, we let the patient’s words fill the silence.

Instead of opening another lengthy medical textbook, looking up the obscure and the malignant, we can open up a Pathography and step into our patients’ lives. No matter what our role, whether it’s inside healthcare or not, the voice of illness speaks in everyone’s ear and it deserves to be heard.

Further Reading

Illness as a Metaphor, AIDS as a Metaphor by Susan Sontag
An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison
C: Because Cowards Get Cancer by John Diamond
Intoxicated by My Illness by Anatole Broyard

References
1. American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy. 2014. Chronic Illness [Online]. Available at: https://www.aamft.org/iMIS15/AAMFT/Content/consumer_updates/chronic_illness.aspx [Accessed: 28th October 2014]
2. Briggs, E. 2008. Cultural perspectives on pain management. Journal of Perioperative Practice. 18:468-471
3. Wedel, J. 2009. Bridging the Gap between Western and Indigenous Medicine in Eastern Nicaragua. Anthropological Notebooks. 15:49-64

Featured image:
 Speak no evil, hear no evil… by Personal Kaleidoscope

Categories
General Opinion

Be Kind to Your Med Techs (And Everybody Else)

Before I was accepted to medical school, I was a medical technologist. This basically means I worked in the laboratory at a large hospital. I was playing one of the “behind the scenes” roles that many of us probably played while we were getting the medical experience required to get into med school.

Med techs are the people who run the CBC’s, comprehensive metabolic panels, amylases, lipases, pregnancy tests, urinalyses, cross-matches, etc. etc. ordered by the doctors. Usually, I was in direct contact with the nurses and doctors, who either called my line directly or came down to the lab if something needed to be clarified or a specimen needed to be delivered.

I’ll tell you right now the difference between a good day and a bad day at work. Two factors contributed: how swamped we were with patient samples, and how good of a mood the doctors/nurses were in (I say “doctors/nurses” because the moods of these two groups of people usually parallel each other quite well on any given day, and often the doctors communicate to other staff through nurses).

Of course, no matter what part of healthcare you work in, there are going to be days when the patients just don’t stop coming and you can’t catch a break. That’s unavoidable; the only thing you can do then is pray to the all-powerful but oft malicious gods of healthcare for some sort of respite.

But the second factor is something you and I can do something about as future doctors. I don’t know what your feelings are on “Reaganomics” (a.k.a. “trickle-down economics”), but I can tell you for sure that “trickle-down attitude” is most definitely a thing. If a doctor has an ungrateful, self-important, entitled, or simply negative attitude, then all of the people that doctor works with will absorb that negative energy.

As a med tech, I absorbed plenty of this negativity while working long night shifts. I’ve been yelled at for not having the test results of an order that was never put in. I’ve been hassled unnecessarily for CSF WBC counts before the tubes had even gotten to the lab. I’ve been berated by frazzled nurses because I needed them to get me a redraw due to hemolysis. Every time this happened, it shifted my stress and discontentedness level up a notch. It only takes a few notches to ruin an entire shift,and a few bad shifts in a row can cause burnout to quickly sink in. Work becomes death. Getting out of bed before a shift becomes nigh impossible. It gets more and more difficult to be fully engaged at work, which increases the likelihood of errors.

It’s not just med techs, either. The same thing happens to all allied health professionals. Phlebotomists, X-ray techs, radiology techs, nurses, CNA’s, orderlies, and even janitorial staff are affected by how the doctors in the facility are acting. Whether we like it or not, being a doctor means being a leader. So please, I beg you: be kind to your med techs (and everyone else).

 

Featured image:
Work Hard And Be Kind Wallpaper by Clay Larsen

Categories
General

The Chasm Between Pre-Clinical and Clinical Medical Education

Depending upon which school you attend, the first one to two years of medical school are predominantly classroom-based learning. As medical students, we spend countless hours memorizing facts about disorders and diseases. We pore over diagnostic criteria, look for the minutiae in radiographs, and stress about the side effects of antibiotics and other medications.  While all of this information is useful and important, the reality of medical education soon changes when students start spending time in the hospital and in various clinics.

In transitioning from pre-clinical to clinical education, it soon becomes clear to medical students that what you learn in class and what you actually see in patients is quite different. Furthermore, even when presentations are clear it is still not trivial to determine what an actual patient’s diagnosis may be.

One poignant example, which I remember well, occurred while I was shadowing a local pain management Physician as part of the early clinical exposure course at our school. The patient whom we saw had a textbook case of C-7 radiculopathy with associated shoulder pain and loss of sensation. We had learned about radiculopathy in medical school, and I had a working knowledge of the diagnosis.  After I had spent some time interviewing the patient, my preceptor asks me what I thought the diagnosis was. I had some idea that the patient had a radiculopathy, but in my nervousness and uncertainty all I could muster up were a few whispers and murmurs.  My preceptor turns to me and basically says that this was a very clear case of C-7 radiculopathy.  After hearing the diagnosis, I distinctly remember thinking that I had known the disorder and had seen the symptoms in the patient, but had been unable to connect the dots.

The ability to connect the dots and turn pre-clinical knowledge into data that is useful in a clinical setting is a difficult skill to acquire.  You have to deal with patients that have varying presentations and many associated comorbidities, both situations that are not emphasized in much of the book and lecture-based learning of the pre-clinical years.  The only real method to attain proficiency in a clinical setting is hands-on experience.

Noting this need for hands-on experience, medical school curricula has changed substantially over the last decade. More medical schools now offer early clinical skills and patient experiences in their curricula, hoping to bridge the chasm between pre-clinical and clinical education. At the school that I attend, we start to see real patients in the second week of our first year. In the second semester of our first year, we embark on a year-long experience in local clinics where we work with practitioners to learn the ins-and-outs of clinical medicine and practice. Most other schools have implemented similar programs. Furthermore, the trend towards shortening pre-clinical education to one to two years is a direct response to student need for early clinical experience.

While early clinical exposure is important in medical education, it must occur with a solid foundation of preclinical knowledge.  Balancing knowledge acquisition with practicing clinical skills is a juggling match every medical student must deal with. Luckily, we don’t have to learn all of it during medical school, as medicine is a lifelong learning experience.

Featured image:
stethoscope by Dr.Farouk

Categories
Forensics

Forensic Pathologists: Public Servants

In this second part of my three part series on forensic pathology, I will be exploring the role of the forensic pathologist in society at large. Of all the specialties, forensic pathology seems to be largely ignored and/or unknown to the medical students I have met. Certainly, the prospect of working with dead patients doesn’t appeal to the majority of medical students, but hopefully a review of what forensic pathologists do will remind everyone that we should not take for granted the important social role they fill. In her book Postmortem: How Medical Examiners Explain Suspicious Deaths, Stefan Timmermans puts it the following way:

“Death is not an individual but a social event. When, with a barely noticeable sigh, the last gasp of air is exhaled, the blood stops pulsating through arteries and veins, and neurons cease activating the brain, the life of a human organism has ended. Death is not official, however, until the community takes notice.”

Many practicing physicians are surprisingly hazy on the subject, which becomes a problem when these physicians improperly fill out death certificates (a common occurrence which drains public resources to straighten out) or fail to recognize deaths as suspicious and warranting investigation.

Medical examiners are usually certified forensic pathologists who have been appointed to the medical examiner position as an employee of the government. They serve a vital role in the government’s public health systems; if a public health danger emerges of an unknown nature and is killing members of the community, who better to solve this pressing puzzle than a medical examiner? When death occurs under unexpected or unknown circumstances, i.e. when it is suspicious, then the probability that a public health danger is lurking about increases. If we don’t know why people are dying, how do we know who is at risk? How can we mitigate the threat? It is the responsibility of the medical examiner to figure this out, whether the threat is a murderer, an infectious disease, a faulty product on the market, etc.

When death occurs under certain circumstances, the body and investigation come under the jurisdiction of the medical examiner. In fact, by law (in San Francisco at least), a medical examiner must investigate the following types of deaths: violent, sudden, unusual, unattended by a physician in the last 20 days or with no medical history, related to an accident (either old or recent), homicide, suicide, due to an infectious epidemic, anything due to criminal acts, all deaths in operating rooms or following surgery or a major medical procedure, all deaths in prisons, jails, or of a person under the control of a law enforcement agency. Some of these categories are purposefully vague, in order to encourage doctors and other agencies to contact the medical examiner if the death is questionable in any regard whatsoever.

Medical examiners have the responsibility to unearth public health threats as they investigate all of these unusual deaths. For example, it was medical examiners who helped identify the mysterious and deadly powder distributed through the U.S. Postal Service in 2001 as anthrax, and who determine infant deaths are caused by defective cribs on the market, and who do the initial work in identifying infectious disease epidemics.

Bacillus anthracis
A photomicrograph of Bacillus anthracis bacteria using Gram-stain technique, courtesy of Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Public Health Image Library (PHIL)

Clearly, forensic pathology is essential in maintaining a safe and just society in modern times. Well trained medical examiners performing top-notch forensic work ensures the timely, correct identification of threats to the community. Their role as public servants should never be taken for granted. They may work behind the scenes, but their work is necessary for our society’s high standards of well-being.

 

Featured image:
the colour of blood by anjamation