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The Art of Medicine

The Challenge of Futile Treatment

29 Jul, 16 | by Iain Brassington

Guest Post by Lindy Willmott and Ben White

For decades, researchers from around the world have found evidence that doctors provide futile treatment to adult patients who are dying.  Some discussion of this topic has turned on matters of definition (see our recent contribution to this debate), with a broader concept of “perceived inappropriate treatment” being favoured by commentators more recently.  However, this debate skirts the fundamental issue: how can treatment that may prolong or increase patient suffering, waste scarce health care resources, and cause distress to health care workers still occur in hospitals around the world?  In other words, in these days of overworked doctors and underfunded healthcare systems, how is this still an issue?

Some research has tackled this although it has tended to focus on doctors operating in intensive care units and there has been very little research which looks at the reasons given by doctors from a range of specialties about why futile treatment is provided at the end of life.

Our study, undertaken by a team of interdisciplinary researchers, explored the perceptions on this topic of doctors, from a range of specialities, who are commonly involved with treatment at the end of life.  We interviewed 96 doctors at three hospitals in Queensland, Australia, from a range of specialities including intensive care, oncology, internal medicine, cardiology, geriatrics, surgery, and emergency.  Doctors reported that doctor-related and patient-related factors were the main drivers of futile treatment, although reasons relating to the institutional nature of hospitals were also important.

We found that doctor-related reasons were important in the provision of futile end-of-life care.  Many doctors reported attitudes of their colleagues that reflect a cultural aversion to death.  Doctors saw themselves as trained healers who viewed every death as a failure, and pursued a cure rather than appropriate palliative treatment for dying patients.  Doctors described wanting to help the patient and not give up hope that a treatment might provide some benefit.  They also said they wanted to satisfy patients, families, and medical professionals themselves that everything possible had been done, due to both emotional attachment to the patient and fear of the legal consequences of refusing demands for treatment.  They also admitted to providing families and patients with a smorgasbord of treatment options as a means of avoiding uncomfortable conversations about dying.  Doctors’ personalities, religious backgrounds, and their own experiences with death and dying were also said to contribute to the giving of futile treatment. more…

There’s Argument, and there’s Disputation.

7 Jun, 16 | by Iain Brassington

Very well, then: let’s allow that the quality of argument in bioethics – and clinical ethics in particular – is not of high quality.  What should be done about it?

That’s a hard question, though it’s predictable and wholly justifiable that it should be asked.  And, to be honest, I don’t know offhand.  I might have a few germs of ideas, but nothing that I’d be prepared to mention in public.  That doesn’t mean that I can’t look at other ideas, and test them out.  One such idea is mooted in this paper by Merrick et al: in essence, they propose a sort of debating competition.  They begin by explaining – with some plausibility – some of the factors that make it a bit hard to get full-blooded engagement with ethics in the medical curriculum:

As educators, we have observed additional challenges medical students face in their ethics education, which echo others’ experiences. First, because of the prodigious amount of information medical students are presented with during their first two years of training, they typically adopt a strategy of selectively reading assignments, attending large lectures, and participating in small group discussions.  In this context, ethics appears to be deprioritized, because, from the students’ perspective, it is both more demanding and less rewarding than other subjects.  Unlike other subjects, ethics requires students to reflect on their personal moral sensibilities in addition to understanding theory and becoming familiar with key topics and cases.  Yet, also unlike other courses, poor marks in ethics rarely cause academic failure, given the way performance in medical school curricula is typically evaluated.  Thus, ethics is both more demanding—because of the burdens of self-reflection—and less rewarding—because excellence in ethics does not contribute significantly to grades or test scores.

Second, medical students face challenges in how they individually conceptualize the value of ethics in the medical context.  Although many indicate that morality is important to them, they also suggest that it is a subject matter that relates to their personal, as opposed to professional, actions.  Instead, students often conflate the domains of institutional policy and health law (especially risk management and malpractice litigation) with medical ethics.  Although these domains are obviously also of essential concern for future physicians, they remain distinguishable from ethical issues likely to emerge in practice.  Consequently, rigorous and effective ethics education within the medical school context faces the challenge of distinguishing ethics from other aspects of professionalism.

Too often, ethics gets run alongside communication skills training (well, it’s all about getting informed consent, isn’t it?  Eh?  Eh?); and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked to prepare multiple choice questions for ethics assessment.  (Standard answer: nope.  It’s got to be an essay of some sort, or it’s not worth doing.)

So what to do?  The paper, as I’ve already said, suggests a quasi-competitive debating competition, in which teams of students are given a problem, and a limited time to make a case in response to that problem.  An opposing team then has a limited amount of time to place a counterargument.  Then they swap roles, so the counterarguing team gets to make the argument, and the previous arguers now become counter-arguers.  Judges can ask questions, and assign a score.  “The basic aim of the MEB curriculum,” the authors say,

is to help students learn how to produce and present an argument for an ethical position in response to a realistic clinical situation.

Hmmmmm.

Every now and again I get asked to help judge debating competitions – sometimes for academic institutions, sometimes for non-University bodies, sometimes for others (*cough* Instituteofideas *cough*).  I used to be happy to help out.  But I’m not so sure now. more…

Patient Views about Consent, Confidentiality & Information-Sharing in Genetic Medicine.

29 Apr, 16 | by BMJ

Guest post by Sandi Dheensa, Angela Fenwick and Anneke Lucassen

Imagine you’re a clinician in genetic medicine.  For a while, you’ve been seeing Joe Bloggs, a patient with a mutation in a gene that’s caused a hereditary form of colon cancer.  As is your standard practice, you help Joe identify who in his family is also at risk and spend some time talking about how he’ll tell them.  The Bloggs’ are a large bunch: Joe has children, siblings, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, and cousins, all of whom might have the mutation.  Anyone who tests positive would be eligible for regular bowel screening, which – while not pleasant – makes it much more likely that any cancer will be caught at a  treatable stage.  Unfortunately, despite all this, you’ve reason to believe that Joe hasn’t told his relatives anything and now you’re unsure what to do.

What are your options?  You might say Joe’s confidentiality and autonomy are paramount: it’s up to him what he does, and, as his doctor, you’ve done your part by telling him the cancer is heritable.  Or you might argue that Joe’s family needs to know – but how  and when?  The GMC says you can share a patient’s personal information without consent if the benefit of doing so outweighs the risk: does the situation meet this criterion?  What if you share the information and Joe sues you for breaching his confidentiality?  But what if you don’t say anything and a relative develops a cancer that could’ve been prevented?  Won’t their trust in the health service be shaken if they knew you’d chosen not to share?  Indeed, the UK and Netherlands have recently seen cases where relatives  questioned the health service’s non-disclosure of relevant information.

Taking a “joint account” view of confidentiality from the outset would’ve avoided these situations.  The joint account involves viewing genetic and personal information as distinct: the possible inheritance of cancer is common to the whole Bloggs family, but that Joe has stage III bowel cancer is personal.  If genetic information is confidential to the family, not just the tested patient, you’d have told Joe upfront, before even drawing his blood, that you’d look into sensitive and appropriate ways to let his relatives know the information if they might benefit from it.  Later down the line, when it materialised he hadn’t told his family, it would’ve been easier to negotiate what to do.

In our recent JME paper, we explored the views of people affected by hereditary cancer and other conditions regarding the distinction between genetic and personal information, the levels of confidentiality afforded respectively, and healthcare professionals’ roles and responsibilities toward their patients’ relatives.

In line with the joint account approach, our interviewees considered their signs, symptoms, and diagnoses as personal, but thought genetic risk was familial and that their relatives needed to know about it. more…

How We Feel about Human Cloning

7 Apr, 16 | by BMJ

Guest post by Joshua May

Suppose you desperately want a healthy child to build a family of your own.  As is increasingly common, however, you can’t do it naturally – whether from infertility, a genetic disease you don’t want to pass on, or a non-traditional relationship.  If you seek a genetic connection with the child, there are some limitations to the main alternatives: adoption, surrogacy, and in vitro fertilization.  You may yearn for more options.

How would you feel about cloning?  Take the nucleus of a cell from yourself or a loved one, then put it into an egg that will eventually develop into a baby that shares nearly all the genes of the donor cell.  The resulting baby will simply be a kind of ‘delayed twin’ of the donor.

Most people believe this is immoral.  There’s a bit more support for therapeutic uses that merely create new tissue, for example.  But, at least in the US and UK, people overwhelmingly condemn cloning for the purposes of creating new human lives.  In fact, a recent poll suggests there is little disagreement in America over this issue, where human cloning is among the most widely condemned topics (alongside polygamy and infidelity).

That’s what people think, but how do they feel?  Controversial bioethical issues often generate intense feelings.  Some bioethicists treat cloning in particular as a line in the sand that we mustn’t cross, for fear of sliding down a slippery slope to a dystopia.

Consider Leon Kass, who played a major role in public policy as chair of George W. Bush’s President’s Council on Bioethics.  Kass argues that there is wisdom in repugnance toward human cloning, allowing us to ‘intuit and feel, immediately and without argument, the violation of things that we rightfully hold dear’.  As opposed to mere unease or sadness, Kass and some others have argued that disgust is such a powerful and distinctive emotion that we should take it seriously as a moral guide when deliberating about ethical issues.

An empirical claim lurks.  Such bioethicists assume that people in general share their reaction of repugnance. Besides, if we can uncover the emotional reactions people tend to feel toward disputed moral issues, then we can better understand why they hold the beliefs they do.  Does the prospect of cloning humans make us sick?  Scared?  Sad?  Angry?  Excited?  At ease?

In my paper, I provide some initial evidence that people (at least in the States) feel primarily anxious and curious about human reproductive cloning.  These were the most frequently self-reported negative and positive emotions, not disgust, fear, sadness, anger, excitement, amusement, comfort, or joy. more…

Nurses Cannot be Good Catholics

31 Mar, 16 | by BMJ

Guest Post by John Olusegun Adenitire

It seems that if you are a nurse you cannot be a good Catholic.  Or, better: if you want to work as a nurse then you might have to give up some of your religious beliefs.  A relatively recent decision of the UK Supreme Court, the highest court in the country, seems to suggest so.  In a legal decision that made it into the general press (see here), the Supreme Court decided that two Catholic midwives could not refuse to undertake administrative and supervisory tasks connected to the provision of abortions.

To be sure, no one asked the nurses to directly assist in the provision of abortions.  The Abortion Act 1967 says that “No person shall be under any duty … to participate in any treatment authorised by this Act to which he has a conscientious objection.”  The Nurses argued that this provision of the Act should be understood widely.  Not only should they be allowed to refuse to directly assist in abortion services: they should also be entitled to refuse to undertake managerial and supervisory tasks if those were linked to abortion services.  The nurses’ employer was not impressed; neither was the Supreme Court which ruled that the possibility to conscientiously object only related to a ‘hands-on’ capacity in the provision of abortion services.

In a recent paper in the JME (available here) I have argued, albeit only indirectly, that this decision is only half-correct.  Nurses and other medical professionals have a human right to object to the provision of a wide range of services which they deem incompatible with their conscience.  I say that the decision of the Supreme Court is only half-correct because the Court explicitly avoided investigating the possibility of the nurses’ human right to conscientious objection.  Under the Human Rights Act, individuals have a right to freedom of conscience and religion.  That right may, in appropriate circumstances, entail the right for nurses to object to being involved in administrative and supervisory duties connected with abortion services.  If you ask me how the Supreme Court avoided having to consider the nurses’ human right to freedom of conscience and religion I couldn’t tell you.  I bet neither could any of the Law Dons at Oxford.

I realise that by appealing to human rights I am not necessarily making the nurses’ case any more deserving of sympathy that it already is(n’t). more…

Mature Content?

27 Feb, 16 | by Iain Brassington

There’s an aisle at the supermarket that has a sign above it that reads “ADULT CEREALS”.  Every time I see it, I snigger inwardly at the thought of sexually explicit cornflakes.  (Pornflakes.  You’re welcome.)  It’s not big, and it’s not clever: I know that.  But all these years living in south Manchester have taught me to grab whatever slivers of humour one can from life.

Anyway…  A friend’s FB feed this morning pointed me in the direction of this: a page on Boredpanda showing some of the best entries to the 2016 Birth Photography competition.  (Yeah: I know.  I had no idea, either.)

I guess that birth photography is a bit of a niche field.  The one that won “Best in Category: Labour” is, for my money, a brilliant picture.  Some of the compositions are astonishingly good – but then, come to think of it, childbirth isn’t exactly a surprise, so I suppose that if you’re going to invite someone to photograph it, they’re going to have plenty of time to make sure that the lighting is right.

A second thought that the pictures raise is this: no matter how much people bang on about the miracle of birth… well, nope.  Look at the labour picture again.  I can’t begin to express how glad I am that that’s never going to happen to me; and I’m even more convinced than I was that I don’t want to play any part in inflicting that on another person.

But my overriding response is something in the realm of astonishment that some of the pictures are blanked out as having “mature content”.

I mean… really? more…

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

24 Dec, 15 | by Iain Brassington

Here’s an intriguing letter from one John Doherty, published in the BMJ yesterday:

Medical titles may well reinforce a clinical hierarchy and inculcate deference in Florida, as Kennedy writes, but such constructs are culture bound.

When I worked in outback Australia the patients called me “Mate,” which is what I called them.

They still wanted me to be in charge.

Intriguing enough for me to go and have a look at what this Kennedy person had written.  It’s available here, and the headline goes like this:

The Title “Doctor” in an Anachronism that Disrespects Patients

Oooooo-kay.  A strong claim, and my hackles are immediately raised by the use of “disrespect” as a verb – or as a word at all.  (Don’t ask me why I detest that so; I don’t know.  It’s just one of those things that I will never be able to tolerate, a bit like quiche.)  But let’s see…  It’s not a long piece, but even so, I’ll settle for the edited highlights: more…

Homeopathy, Blacklisting, and the Misuse of Choice

15 Nov, 15 | by Iain Brassington

It seems that homeopathy might at last be facing some serious opposition from within the NHS, with the prospect of its being blacklisted being considered.

There’s any number of people who’ll be entirely on board with that. Homeopathy doesn’t work.  Of course, a lot of medicines turn out not to work, or not to work well.  But the difference between homeopathy and unsuccessful drugs is that the latter are at least more likely to have a plausible mechanism – roughly, one of throwing molecules at other molecules, or coaxing the body to throw molecules at molecules.  Homeopathy doesn’t even have that.  It relies on water having a memory.

At the very best, it contributes nothing. But it does cost money – not much, but more than none, and in the end, the taxpayer has to pony up for it.  Money is being wasted every time the NHS pays for homeopathic treatment, and that looks to be unjust.  (It’s not the most unjust thing in the world, but that’s neither here nor there.  Wrongs are wrongs, even if harms might vary.)

It might even get in the way of effective treatments, if patients use it rather than them.  That might mean that they’re worse off than they could otherwise be.  At the outside, it might mean that they’re a danger to others – they might be spreading illness by dint of not getting treated properly for it.

To that extent, Simon Singh strikes me as being bang on the money: more…

Stop What You’re Doing: This is Important.

14 Oct, 15 | by Iain Brassington

I’d not realised it, but the latest iteration of the erstwhile Medical Innovation Bill – colloquially known as the Saatchi Bill – is up for debate in the Commons on Friday.  This is it in its latest form: to all intents and purposes, though, it’s the same thing about which I’ve blogged before.

In a nutshell, the Bill does nothing except remove protections from patients who would (under the current law) be able to sue for negligence in the event that their doctor’s “innovative” treatment is ill-founded.

Much more articulate summaries of what’s wrong with the Bill can be found here and here, with academic commentary here (mirrored here on SSRN for those without insitutional access).  There have been amendments to the Bill that make the version to be discussed on Friday slightly different from that analysed – but they are only cosmetic; the important parts remain.

Ranged against the Bill are the Medical professional bodies, the personal injuries profession, patient bodies, and research charities.  In favour of the Bill are the Daily Telegraph, a few people in the Lords who should know better (Lord Woolf, Lady Butler-Sloss: this means you), and Commons MPs who – understandably – don’t want to be seen as the one who voted against the cure for cancer.

Gloriously, Christ Heaton-Harris, who introduced the Bill, did so only after winning the ballot for Private Members’ Bills.  In a nutshell, he was allotted Parliamentary time, and then began the process of wondering what to do with it – which suggests that even the Bill’s sponsor doesn’t have a burning commitment to the cause – or, at least, didn’t when he took it on.

Still, the Bill has the support of Government; as it stands, there’s a good chance that it’ll pass.

SO: Take a few minutes to look up your MP’s email address – you can do that by following this link – and drop him/ her a line to encourage them to vote against the Bill.

Do it.

Flibanserin and Regulatory Failure

25 Sep, 15 | by Iain Brassington

Guest Post by Adriane Fugh-Berman

On August 18th, 2015, the FDA approved flibanserin (brand name Addyi), a purported aphrodisiac that can drop blood pressure so precipitously that users sometimes pass out and require medical intervention to regain consciousness.  The labelling for flibanserin indicates that it is for:

the treatment of premenopausal women with acquired, generalized hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD), as characterized by low sexual desire that causes marked distress or interpersonal difficulty and is NOT due to:

• A co-existing medical or psychiatric condition,

• Problems within the relationship, or

• The effects of a medication or other drug substance.

Focus for a moment on “Low sexual desire that causes marked distress or interpersonal difficulty”.  So a woman upset by a belittling spouse who wants sex more often than she does is eligible for a prescription drug?  It gives a whole new meaning to the term “drugs of abuse.”  Note that even if the putative patient isn’t distressed, she is still eligible for being drugged if her partner is creating interpersonal difficulty.  Here’s a thought – why not sedate him instead?

Not every partner is a jerk, and there are certainly women distressed by loss of libido, but flibanserin isn’t the answer for these women either.  As an aphrodisiac, it’s no great shakes; its predominant mechanism may simply be sedation.  Flibanserin increased “sexually satisfying events” by less than one event a month (the event, by the way, need include neither an orgasm nor a partner).

The labeling of flibanserin reveals the absurdity of this “disease” and its treatment. more…

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