Archive Page 185

No Refill

Skip Rollins drove 35 miles to see me today for his blood pressure follow-up. A few months ago I had prescribed a mild diuretic, hydrochlorothiazide. I had ordered a blood test to be done a while after he started taking it in order to check on his potassium level and kidney function. Then I saw him in follow-up, and his blood pressure was normal. We had agreed on a follow-up in November.

Looking at his chart before knocking on his exam room door, I saw numbers I didn’t like – 154/110. His blood pressure was right back where it started.

It didn’t take long to figure out what happened.

“Oh, those pills, I ran out of them a month ago. You didn’t give me a refill”, Skip rumbled in his big-barreled baritone voice.

I paused.

“No wonder your blood pressure is up again, then, Skip. I’m sorry I didn’t check if you had a refill, but, you know, you can just call us or have the drug store contact us if you run low on your medication.”

“Oh, I figured you didn’t want me to take any more of them.”

“No, I just didn’t want to write for more than one refill when we started with that medicine in case it wasn’t going to work out for you.”

I wasn’t sure he needed to hear that I also don’t write for several refills in case patients don’t get their labwork or no-show for their follow-ups.

“Well, I see the stuff worked, and I still seem to need it”, Skip mused.

“Definitely. Once someone’s blood pressure is up, it usually stays up unless they lose weight or cut out the salt. Your blood pressure was real stubborn at first, remember? Here’s a script with refills for a year, but I’d like to see you in March again, okay?”

As medical providers, we often assume our patients will understand our routines and our way of thinking, but, at least around here, so many of our patients have little or no experience with disease and with the health care system. Skip never imagined that high blood pressure was a chronic condition with possibly lifelong treatment. I thought everybody knew that, and I failed him.

The Oldest Disease

I am seeing more gout cases than I ever used to. I am also learning more and more about the linkages between gout, uric acid and the cardiometabolic diseases – stroke, heart failure, angina, hypertension, dyslipidemia and diabetes.

I have reflected before on the lack of knowledge, even among physicians, about gout treatment. That doesn’t at all mean I am professing to be an expert on the subject, only that I have developed an interest in it.

A while back, while trying all the usual angina medications for my patient with Cardiac Syndrome X, I read about using the gout medication, allopurinol, for angina. Every time I return to this topic I find more interesting facts and theories about allopurinol, gout, and heart disease.

It turns out that this old, generic, gout medication can decrease angina symptoms and heart attacks, improve pump function in heart failure patients, and lower blood pressure. These effects can be seen even in heart disease patients with normal levels of uric acid. We know allopurinol can reduce so called “oxidative stress”, believed to be at the core of many disease processes from heart disease to dementia.

In people without heart disease, but with high levels of the gout chemical, uric acid, allopurinol can improve both cholesterol and blood sugar levels.

Less known, but perhaps even more interesting, is that diets that reduce blood levels of uric acid have effects similar to allopurinol. Traditionally, such diets were severely protein-restricted, since uric acid is a by-product of protein metabolism. Newer research has shown that a high-protein diet low in sugar, fructose and saturated fat is more effective in reducing gout attacks and has better effect on cardiovascular risk than traditional, low-protein, gout diets. Both the high-protein, low-fructose diet and allopurinol reduce insulin resistance, which helps improve blood pressure, blood sugars and lipid levels. They also both increase elimination of uric acid through the kidneys.

I have been aware of the increased heart attack risk among patients with inflammatory conditions, which received attention when Ridker published his papers on C-reactive protein (CRP). Many clinicians, and many laboratories, hold the belief that very high CRP levels are a marker only of autoimmune disease but not of cardiac risk. Somehow, only mildly elevated levels are thought to be dangerous. Unfortunately, very high CRP levels, except perhaps (?) in acute illnesses, regardless of cause, are associated with very high cardiac risk.

Gout may be the oldest disease we know. First described by the Egyptians more than 4,000 years ago, gout was called the Disease of Kings, although it is now seen in all socioeconomic groups, but varies in incidence among age, sex and ethnic groups. In most areas of the world, gout incidence is on the rise 

Hippocrates, writing 2,500 years ago, pointed out that eunuchs, prepubescent boys and premenopausal women don’t tend to get gout. These are also the groups of people who are least likely to develop heart disease. The new findings about uric acid, allopurinol and heart disease illustrate that, in medicine, very few ideas are entirely new.

One Track Minds

I agree with those who say that men only think of one thing – at least only one thing at a time.

Every week I hear male patients tell me their wives say they don’t listen, especially when they are occupied with reading or watching the news.

Many women, on the other hand, seem to have no trouble doing two or three things at the same time.

Certainly, multitasking has been a necessity throughout history for women, who kept house, raised children, cared for animals and did all kinds of farm chores.

In many early cultures dating back thousands of years, men would go out to catch the tiger or some other dangerous beast. That sort of endeavor was more likely to be successful if the hunter put all other random thoughts and projects out of his mind right then until the tiger was successfully taken care of. 

Today’s men generally operate very much like prehistoric man. If we split wood, we only do that, and if we mow the lawn, we don’t stop in the middle to split some wood or balance our checkbooks, unless we have Attention Deficit Disorder, or ADD.

When I grew up, there was only one channel on Swedish TV (I was five when I first saw a TV program). We played games that followed the pace of our minds and bodies, and we played them one at a time.

The generations born after me have been subjected to far more simultaneous sensory inputs, and they have played games that set the pace for the players; computer games often don’t slow down for the player, who needs more time. Children also often play games while watching TV in the background.

I, who no longer have a TV at home, was reminded at the airport recently of the flood of sensory inputs we can subject ourselves to today. The TV monitors had a news anchor occupying most of the screen. To the right was a live feed from the latest disaster scene and along the bottom of the screen was a ticker-type text with completely unrelated headline stories. A young couple was standing near a monitor, busily talking while each was texting on a Blackberry.

Modern society seduces us into trying to do more than one thing at a time. I often wonder what that does to a developing nervous system.

Are some young brains better equipped to select which outside inputs to process and which ones to ignore? Are some just unable to prioritize, and do they therefore rarely find the level of engagement necessary to complete tasks? It is well known that boys with ADHD can hyperfocus and do extremely well in high-risk situations, where dopamine is released within the central nervous system. But are low dopamine levels at the root of this condition?

What about the simultaneous rise in rates of Asperger spectrum disorders? Are they Attention Excess Disorders? Asperger children are in many ways doing the opposite of ADD children; instead of “taking it all in” and doing everything at once, they “tune out” many inputs others think of as important and focus their attention on details others might think of as irrelevant. Instead of always checking how their peers are reacting (Is anybody laughing at me, the Class Clown?), they fail to read the reactions of others, and tend to be socially awkward.

Or is our society less tolerant of these different coping mechanisms to an increasingly unhealthy environment? Is it so, that as our society becomes more intense, more and more people will fall outside the norm for what we think is an acceptable way to deal with the barrage of sensory inputs?

Amy Laughs With The Angels

Nell and Gary Ruggles praised God for their firstborn after years of hoping and praying for a child. She was a small-boned and petite waif of a girl, with blonde fuzz on her head, a slightly reserved attitude and cautious, measured body movements. When Amy was happy, she blossomed, and could make the world smile with her musical laughter, but when she was unhappy, her weak little cry was heartbreaking.

The two of them gave Amy everything a little girl could want, and they showered her with love. They sang, read, played and did everything they could to offer her the best start in life she could have.

When Amy was a little over a year old, Nell became pregnant again, this time with twins. Gary couldn’t have been more pleased. Coming from a large family himself, he pictured his children having the same experiences he cherished growing up with many siblings.

Around the time Sarah and Seth were born, Amy seemed to regress. She seemed less social, and she seemed to need more help than she had just the month before. She cried more, and seldom showed her exuberant side.

Their regular doctor suggested Amy might be jealous of the twins and just temporarily regressing, but Gary and Nell worried. A second opinion with a pediatrician in the city nearby concurred with their own doctor and suggested they give Amy more one-on-one time with each of them.

A few months later, Amy’s deterioration was undeniable. Both doctors they had consulted now agreed there was something different about Amy, but didn’t know what.

The doctors at City Pediatric Specialists were baffled. By now, the twins were catching up with Amy’s development. Finally, a developmental specialist, who had studied under Dr. Andreas Rett, diagnosed Amy with Rett Syndrome just a few minutes into their consultation.

Just as they had been told, Amy became socially uninterested, almost always turned inward. She never smiled anymore. She developed unusual ways of holding her wrists and hands, chewed her fingers, stumbled and shuffled when she walked. She had already lost the ability to control her urine and bowels, and she stopped speaking. Her cry became even more heart shattering than it was in her infancy.

Today Amy is eight and a half. Her almost seven-year-old twin siblings help their parents take care of Amy. They keep the diaper supply stocked in the bathroom, bring toys within reach of Amy where she sits, put her mitts on when her hands get irritated by her gnawing, and take turns feeding her.

Amy seldom cries anymore. She shows little pleasure or displeasure. She shows almost no interest in Sarah and Seth, even when they clown around, trying to make her laugh.

But sometimes, in the middle of the night, Nell and Gary can hear her laughing in her room, a melodic laughter that sounds almost like bells chiming in the distance. As they listen hard, they sometimes even think they hear more than one note at the same time. They say Amy laughs with the angels.

All is Well; Over and Out

You were never a chatterbox, Dad. You always chose your words carefully and didn’t say anything you didn’t mean. You were sometimes extremely brief in your communications, perhaps to balance Mother’s tendency to talk much more than you did.

Especially on the telephone, you always were a master of brevity. Calling home from payphones while traveling around Europe, or from the U.S. back when calling overseas was rare and expensive, all I’d get out of you was sometimes: “All is well; over and out”. Those few words really said everything I needed to hear, though.

I started out emulating your style of communication, but have had to learn to say more on the telephone over the years. These days I sometimes even wear a Bluetooth earpiece and talk with my wife while driving or walking through stores shopping if we can’t be together.

Sitting with you, watching the sunset at camp or spending time together during the Holidays, there were always long stretches of silence between us. I always felt the connection, even without any exchange of words. I felt it also at the very end of our time together here on Earth.

Sitting by your bedside during your last few days and nights, I said all those things to you that I had not said often enough before. Unable to answer me because of your end-stage Alzheimer’s disease, you looked at me and the peace in your eyes conveyed to me all I needed to hear back: “All is well”.

Roger that, Dad: All is well. Rest in Peace. Over and out.


I just realized none of the posts show on an iPad or a computer, but they do show on an iPhone. WordPress is working on this. In the meantime, please visit my Substack.

 

 

Osler said “Listen to your patient, he is telling you the diagnosis”. Duvefelt says “Listen to your patient, he is telling you what kind of doctor he needs you to be”.

 

BOOKS BY HANS DUVEFELT, MD

CONDITIONS, Chapter 1: An Old, New Diagnosis

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