Archive Page 206

A Train Wreck* With Two Car Wrecks

(* American medical slang for a patient with major medical problems)

Carlos Sanchez was lucky to have survived the accident. His almost brand new car was totaled, and he was taken to the hospital, strapped on a rigid back board with a cervical collar. No fractures were found; he was sore all over, and didn’t remember much of the accident, but it was the first snowstorm of the winter and it was assumed he had driven too fast for the road conditions and simply lost control of his car. I signed the copy of his emergency room report and his chart went back to our clinic’s medical records room.

One week later, Carlos’ chart was on my desk again. This time, he totaled his rental car, and again he escaped serious injury. What an unusual thing to happen, I thought. Carlos seemed like such a slow-moving, sensitive young man; why would he be out crashing cars every week? I signed off on his report, and his chart went back to be filed again.

The next day was Friday and I was looking forward to my weekend off. My wife and I were planning a trip to town for some Christmas shopping and a late dinner at our favorite restaurant.

Just before five o’clock, Carlos showed up at the front desk and said, “I just don’t feel good”.

I took one look at him, and agreed with his assessment; he just wasn’t right. He had some sort of encephalopathy, that was clear, and he had an unusual pale, yellow coloring. My wife came to join me, and we headed up to town, with Carlos willingly in the back seat. We swung by the emergency room, dropped him off with a few words exchanged with the clinician on duty.

The final diagnosis was acute kidney failure; he was admitted, underwent emergency dialysis, and some time later received a kidney transplant. Last year he rejected his new kidney, so he is back on dialysis, waiting for another kidney.

The moral of the story is that even car accidents during the first snowstorm of the season may happen for a reason, and when someone has two car wrecks in a short period of time, the onus is on the treating physician to ask why.

The Concept of Risk

In the old days, doctors treated patients who sought medical care because they had symptoms they wanted to get rid of. Then came medical treatment of easily measured physical parameters, like high blood pressure, even when not associated with splitting headaches and red cheeks. A normal blood pressure is essentially the same number for everyone. Recently, we have spent a lot of time and energy treating risk factors, like elevated cholesterol.

I find a lot of my patients have trouble thinking about risk; many still think of what we do as treating disease. For example, the National Cholesterol Education Program has set target values for the bad LDL-cholesterol. According to NCEP, a low risk person, for example a twenty-five year old non-smoking woman with ideal weight and blood pressure, has little reason to worry about a mildly “elevated” LDL, whereas a sixty-five year old diabetic chain-smoking man with a history of poor circulation in his legs with the same LDL number would be an obvious candidate for aggressive lipid lowering efforts.

As I counsel patients about cardiovascular risk, I usually first calculate their risk according to the Framingham Heart Study data, then I show how the presence or absence of inflammation, as measured by Highly Sensitive C-Reactive Protein (CRP), can tip the scales. My last step has been to look at the NCEP guidelines with the patient. I have found that not all my colleagues do the same – some seem to look at elevated cholesterol with less attention to individual risk.

Today the author of the original CRP study has published a study showing upwards of 50% reduction in heart attacks and strokes among people with normal cholesterol but with elevated CRP levels, when taking the cholesterol-lowering drug rosuvastatin (Crestor).

This is essentially the same risk reduction we have seen in traditional high risk (high LDL-cholesterol) patients. But bear with me here: Half of all heart attacks occur among a “relatively small” number of people with high cholesterol, and the remainder of all heart attacks occur among the much larger group of people with fairly normal cholesterol. Reducing heart attack risk by half does mean more for someone with a 25% risk of heart disease than for someone with a 5% risk.

My first read of the JUPITER study is that you have to provide as many as 300 patient-years of medication to high-CRP patients with normal LDL-cholesterol to prevent one heart attack. The JUPITER study saw 142 heart “events” (including not only heart attacks, but also strokes, hospital admissions for angina and elective coronary stenting) among 8,000 Crestor-treated patients and 251 heart events among 8,000 placebo treated individuals. That means the untreated group had a 3% risk of having an “event” during the study period of two years.

Any time you prescribe medication to someone who isn’t terribly ill, you have to stop and consider whether you might be trading one problem for another. A person with pneumonia or cancer will clearly tolerate all kinds of medication risks and even side effects in order to save their life, but a person who is more likely to live out their life free from heart disease should be more concerned about the long term safety of medications prescribed to lower their already low risk of having a heart attack.

One of my professors in medical school once gave a talk about blood pressure medications I still refer to today when talking to patients. He said that a good blood pressure medication should be effective, inexpensive, and side effect free, because high blood pressure is dangerous, common, and generally asymptomatic. Said differently, the treatment must really work, it must be easily available to all who need it, and you cannot ask people who feel well to take a medication that makes them feel bad.

The statin drugs were first developed in the 1970’s and it took many years before they became widely used. There are still enough unanswered questions about their very-long-term safety to make us think hard about when they are worth using and when they are not.

The night I suffered my vitreous detachment during my visit to Sweden a couple of months ago, I noticed the spider web visual distortions as I looked out my aunt’s living room window and saw he Astra-Zeneca pharmaceutical plant in the distance. It had come up in our conversation as they had laid off many workers shortly before my visit.

Maybe Astra-Zeneca will do better now – Comments I read suggest that it may cost up to half a million dollars worth of Crestor at $3.50 per pill to save one life in the lower risk group in the JUPITER study. Yes, we’re talking health care in a way. Health care is really big business these days, but still delivered one patient at a time.

All God’s Children

Joey Lafleur was in for his four-year well child check yesterday morning, and it was a profound moment in a day that was otherwise more or less a blur of acute visits and urgent phone calls.

Joey seemed different from other babies early on to his previous provider. His doctor was Barbara Brennan, my good friend and colleague, who ended up giving up her career as a doctor because of her own health. Her early office notes, referral letters and the various specialist reports read like a medical mystery novel.

Joey didn’t reach his developmental milestones; his eyes didn’t seem right and he had an unusual, broad grin, which he always flashed. By age two he was diagnosed with Williams Syndrome, a rare genetic disorder that affects one in 7,500 newborns.

Joey, in typical fashion for Williams Syndrome children, is extremely gregarious, even with strangers. He is a favorite with the nurses. He isn’t potty trained, cannot make three word sentences, and cannot make age-appropriate drawings.

His parents elected to give him the 4-6 year-old shots yesterday, and he protested loudly. Immediately afterward, he wanted to kiss the nurses.

Yesterday afternoon I saw Marguerite Brown, an eighty-three year old woman with stubborn blood pressure and skin problems. Two months ago she had told me that her daughter, Molly DeLorme, had been diagnosed with inoperable cancer. I have been Marguerite’s doctor for ten or fifteen years, and never realized that her daughter was the woman who wallpapered our house a couple of years ago; after all these years practicing in this community I am still finding out that people I have known for years are related to each other.

Last week I had seen Molly’s obituary in the paper. The same issue of our local paper had a little “In Memoriam” piece about a six-year-old patient of mine, who was killed by falling logs several years ago. His parents are still struggling with their loss.

Marguerite Brown was somber, naturally, as I entered the exam room.

“Why did Molly have to die, why couldn’t it have been me?” she asked, rhetorically.

Tonight I answered telephone calls from two of my three adopted children. Both of them are dealing with the consequences of choices they have made in the past. I have wished for a long time that I could have spared them what they are going through right now, but I am wise enough to know that most of us have to learn things for ourselves, and cannot learn from the mistakes of our parents.

I can imagine the heartache of Joey Lafleur’s parents as they imagine what his life will be like, growing up with Williams Syndrome. I can imagine their grief as they think about all the things he will never do.

We must all remember that our children are only loaned to us. We have a natural desire to see them grow up to be healthy and happy, and more often than not I think we hope they will be a lot like us. Our task and privilege as their parents is to see them for who they are, and help them reach their potential.

A youngster with Down’s or Williams Syndrome can be more capable of receiving and returning the love of their parents than a child without genetic challenges, and a healthy child can be killed in a freak accident in the matter of seconds. The wisest parents cannot protect their children from making their own mistakes, and even the elderly often have to grieve the loss of a child.

No More Headaches!

My 11:45 patient today was Sue Maddocks, who just turned 40. She is a relatively new patient, who told me she had had daily headaches for twenty years. She was taking 20 Tylenol (acetaminophen/paracetamol) a day, and she still had unrelenting headaches along with some pretty severe neck pain. She had had MRI’s of her head and neck and tried all kinds of medications, but nothing helped.

When I first met Sue, she had problems with anemia and that is what we had to deal with first. Two weeks ago we got down to business with her headaches. It was clear that she suffered from rebound headaches; she would have to stop taking Tylenol in order to get rid of her headaches.

There are several methods described in the literature for getting rid of rebound headaches, some more drastic than others – everything from steroids to hospitalization for frequent injections of dihydroergotamine.

My proposal to Sue two weeks ago was that we give her a simple muscle relaxant, cyclobenzaprine 10 mg, 1-2 tablets every night, and that she take the leap of faith to wean herself off the Tylenol. “It’s not helping you anyway, so what do you have to lose?” I suggested. She was willing to give it a try. I warned her she probably would have worse headaches for a while. We agreed on a two-week follow-up.

It was a busy morning, but I was running on time. I took a deep breath as I entered Room 8 at 11:47, not knowing how things had gone since I saw her last. I thought about how to proceed if she hadn’t been able to cut down on her Tylenol.

I knocked and entered the room. Sue got up, gave me a big grin and shook my hand.

“They’re gone!” she exclaimed. “No headaches for a week – for the first time in twenty years!”

“That’s great”, I replied.

“Yesterday I was driving around, and I turned my head and noticed my neck wasn’t hurting – it was only holding up my head!” She was ecstatic.

“That’s all it’s supposed to do”, I said.

I wrote a refillable prescription for cyclobenzaprine and we talked about how long to take it for, and how to taper and stop it.

By twelve o’clock I was out the door and headed home for lunch – much sooner than I had imagined.

A Day Without a Diagnosis

Thursday I saw 29 patients, but I didn’t make a single diagnosis. I did three physicals and saw several patients with diabetes, hypertension and high cholesterol. A migraineur came in for a shot, and we double booked a few sick people who already knew their diagnosis and what treatment they needed.

One of my physicals was a Registered Nurse, about my age, who left clinical nursing a few years ago and now does research for a group of surgeons at the hospital up the road. Her research focuses on quality of care.

That got me thinking about the differences in health care between my early days in this profession and today. The spectrum of diseases we deal with has changed, and lately also the notion of what constitutes quality in health care.

Physicians today spend more time managing chronic diseases, some of which weren’t even thought of as diseases twenty-five years ago. A cholesterol level we feel obligated to treat today was considered normal back then; Type 2 Diabetes was something our grandmothers developed in their late seventies, not a multisystem disease we looked for in children and young adults; Attention Deficit Disorder wasn’t something primary care physicians concerned themselves with. And who would ever have thought that Fibromyalgia, a term coined in 1976, would be such a common disease, along with Restless Leg Syndrome (Ekbom, 1944), obesity and toenail fungus?

My conversation with my R.N. patient moved toward the issue of what really constitutes quality in medicine. I worry that some things are measured mostly because they are easy to measure: What percentage of heart attack victims is currently taking beta-blockers? What is the average Hemoglobin A1c among a physician’s diabetic patients (as opposed to how is this value trending over time)? I never hear statistics on how often we as doctors make the right or wrong diagnosis, or how difficult it was to move a particular patient from one set of numbers to another.

The practice of medicine has become more a matter of housekeeping, if not downright bookkeeping. The days of brilliant medical mavericks that could ferret out the correct diagnosis and quickly move on to the next heroic act are history; today’s focus is on long-term management according to evidence-based guidelines (“evidence-based”, now there’s another topic for a post…).

There is no point in lamenting the shift over time in what our patients need from us; I am merely reflecting on what has happened during my years in practice. If we as doctors want to see more bad, untreated and undiagnosed diseases, we need to move to more remote places – my underserved corner of Rural America isn’t the place for that anymore.

Managing chronic illnesses can be very meaningful and satisfying, but it isn’t quite what I imagined I would be doing to this extent. But it is one of the reasons we need to hone our skills as physicians; it is no longer enough to be a good diagnostician when almost every patient we see in a given day already has a diagnosis established. Our challenge is to help them manage that diagnosis. That means we need to practice motivational interviewing for our patients with lifestyle-inflicted diseases, serve as our patients’ medical home in a fragmented health care system and be a voice of reason in an era of information overload.

In a brief moment of worry about what I would do if I didn’t get accepted to medical school I had considered teaching, and I worked as a substitute teacher for one semester between my military service and medical school. I don’t think that was a waste of time at all.

Once in a while as a physician, you’ll make a diagnosis. Most of the time you help patients manage a disease they already know they have.


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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