You don't need to be signed in to read BMJ Blogs, but you can register here to receive updates about other BMJ products and services via our Group site.

The Art of Medicine

On the other hand…

20 Jul, 15 | by Iain Brassington

… the phenomenon of apologising for the wrong thing comes alongside people taking umbrage at the wrong thing.  Last week, the BMJ ran a head-to-head feature on the “question” of whether doctors should recommend homeopathy.  This was the latest in a series of articles in which a question is posed, apparently strictly on the understanding that it’ll accommodate a polarised debate, and one person is invited to give a “yea” response, and another to give “nay”.  I won’t bother here with a screed about homeopathy: Edzard Ernst does a good job in the BMJ piece, as have many others across the blogosphere.  (You could do worse, for example, than to have a wander through the Anomalous Distraction blog, which is written by an ex-schoolmate of mine, and which also has lots of pretty pictures of proteins and things.)  Since it’s a nice day, and I’m in a reasonably good mood, I’ll even admit that when Hahnemann was working, something like homeopathy was probably as good a punt as anything else that medicine had to offer.  But… y’know.

Aaaaaanyway…  A rather angry letter appeared.  I think it’s worth examining, because it makes a number of normative and value claims; and if norms and values aren’t the meat and veg of an ethicist’s life, then we might as well go home. more…

Bad Surgeons and Good Faith

10 Jul, 15 | by Iain Brassington

This is a bit of a strange post, not least because it involves citing sources – a blog post, and a whole blog -that have since been taken down from the net, for reasons that will become clear.  It’s also going to involve a pair of fairly hefty quotations, largely because it’s the absence of a source that motivates this post – which means I can’t simply tell you to follow the links.  It has to do with an apparent case of a surgeon deliberately causing a serious injury to a patient in the name of teaching, and with deceptions, and with apologies for those deceptions.

It’s also a very long post, even by my prolix standards.

OK: so, as quoted by Orac on his Respectful Insolence blog, here’s the case that gets the story going.  It was originally recounted by someone calling themselves “Hope Amantine”, and was cross-posted atKevinMD.com, which bills itself as “social media’s leading physician voice”, is written by someone called Kevin Pho, and is a part a site called MedPage Today.  This means that Orac’s version is at least third-hand; but I can’t do better than that, for reasons that will become clear.  That’s a pain, but I’m going to have to take things on good faith – which, given what comes later, is perhaps asking for trouble.  Either way, here’s the story:

So here I was, handling the plane (the layer, or space) around the IVC [inferior vena cava] with care to avoid ripping it. It seemed like the intelligent thing to do. My attending asked, “Why are you being so dainty with your dissection there?” I answered that I wanted to avoid ripping the cava because they’re so much harder to fix.

Big mistake.

I take it he interpreted my comment as fear, and decided upon a teaching moment. He took his scissors and incredibly, before my eyes, and with no warning or preparation of any kind, cut a one-inch hole in the cava.

I was stunned. As I tried to process what I just saw, incredulous that he would actually intentionally make a hole in the cava, and as dark blood poured out of the hole, the tide rising steadily in the abdomen, he remarked, “Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to fix that?”

And so I did. Whatever thoughts I might have had about his behavior, his judgment, and his sanity (and believe you me, there were many), I put my fingers on the hole to stop the flow.  I suctioned out the blood that had already escaped, and irrigated the field, the Amazing One-Handed Surgeon did nothing to help me.  This exercise was clearly a test. I got two sponge sticks to occlude flow above and below the hole which I instructed him to hold in position (which he dutifully did), and then I got my suture and I fixed the hole.  No problem.

All he said was, “Good job.” And we proceeded to complete the case uneventfully.

[…]

Though I may not have agreed with his actions on that day, I do understand them. How do you teach someone to take charge when there is a crisis? I am certain that if I was put on the spot and shriveled and sniveled, and couldn’t control the bleeding, he would have taken over. And I would have failed.

[…]

So on that day, when the vascular attending cut that hole in the cava, he was preparing me, both for the oral exam, and for life as a surgeon. He wanted to see if I could handle it.

I guess I made the cut.

The excisions are mine – they’re where Orac makes a comment.  However, there’s one more part that’s important – and this is now in Orac’s voice:

The reaction to Dr. Amantine’s post was furious and uniformly negative, both in the comments and in the Twittersphere, and yesterday there was an addendum:

Author’s note 7/8/2015: This is a fictional article. No one was harmed, then or ever, in my care or in my presence. I apologize for any remark that may have been misconstrued.

Orac calls BS on this, and I’m tempted to do likewise; but I’ll put that to one side for now.  I’ll also note that I can’t check the flow of the original post, because it no longer exists.  Indeed, Hope Amantine’s whole blog would seem to have been taken down.  In the meantime, other blogs and pages also picked up the story from KevinMD: PZ Myers noted it on Pharyngula, Janet Stemwedel commented in a piece on Forbes‘ site, and I’m sure there were more.  This is noteworthy, because, as I said, the OP has now gone.  If you want to read it, you’ll have to go to where it was cross-posted or quoted (which makes this whole thing rather like a game of Chinese Whispers).

Indeed, not only has the OP gone: the KevinMD post has also gone.  Where it was, there’s this message: more…

Eating Disorders and Ramadan

6 Jul, 15 | by Iain Brassington

One of those things that’d simply never occurred to me before was highlighted a few days ago in a story on Buzzfeed: how do you reconcile Ramadan fasting with recovery from an eating disorder?  Indeed: can you reconcile them at all?

“Food is obviously a big part of the holy month,” Sofia says. “Usually after breaking fasts, my family have bigger meals than usual, my mum cooks a lot of extravagant Pakistani dishes for iftar. It’s also a time when my extended family tend to visit more, or we go to the mosque and eat there.

“It’s really difficult to eat in public, especially because I’m still uncomfortable around a lot of foods. And what people usually don’t understand is how seeing all that food can make you feel so pressured. Last Ramadan I remember having to force myself to eat because everyone kept telling me to – and I couldn’t say no to them. When we came back from the mosque, I spent most of the night crying, because I felt I had no control.”

[…]

She adds: “I know in my head that I need to stick to the diet and do what my doctor says. But it’s still uncomfortable preparing food while my family aren’t allowed to eat or drink.” At times she “feels guilty while she’s eating”, she says, and there are moments when she’s tempted to go back to fasting again.

 

How central is the not-eating to Ramadan?  I mean: I know that there’re exemptions for things like medical conditions; but is there a mechanism for people not so much to be exempted, but to make an equivalent sacrifice?  Is fasting valued in itself, or because of what it symbolises?  If the latter, than some sort of substitution would seem possible without that counting as an exception.  If the former, then that wouldn’t be so clear.

Either way, the article suggests that part of the problem here is that there simply isn’t the support.  Inasmuch as that anorexic Muslims will be a minority of a minority, I suppose that that’s not surprising – and it’s compounded by apparent misunderstanding in south Asian communities.  But it’s no less worth noting for that.

Re-Engineering Shared Decision-Making

22 May, 15 | by Iain Brassington

Guest post by Muriel R. Gillick

When physician-law-professor, Jay Katz, published The Silent World of Doctor and Patient in 1984, shortly after I completed my medical residency, I felt he was speaking directly to me.  He was telling me what kind of physician to be – not the old-school, paternalistic physician who told patients what treatment was best, but rather a physician who participated in shared decision-making.  For the next few decades, I aspired to cultivate patient autonomy by engaging my patients in deciding, with my input, how to approach their medical care.

There were substantial obstacles.  There were cognitive barriers to shared decision-making, as Twerksy and Kahneman brilliantly revealed: whether you spoke of a 60% success rate or a 40% failure rate seemed to matter, even though they were mathematically equivalent, as did the patient or doctor’s most recent experiences.  Then there was the problem of innumeracy, of patients lacking the tools needed to understand probabilities.  There was the challenge of limited health literacy, or inadequate knowledge of the vocabulary and concepts of health and disease.  And there were cultural biases, because patients of various ethnic backgrounds had a world view radically different from the physician’s biomedical model.  But each of those barriers could be surmounted with careful choice of words, better graphs, or cultural sensitivity.  I continued to strive to be a physician who practiced shared decision-making.

But more and more often, I found that patients wanted me to make a treatment recommendation.  It wasn’t that they didn’t want to be involved in the decision-making, or that they couldn’t understand medical jargon, or that they didn’t know what odds ratios were – although sometimes those were issues. The main issue was that the purpose of the prevailing model of shared decision-making was to figure out, when multiple treatment options existed, which one to choose.  It seemed to me that this focus on what was essentially a technical outcome was misplaced. more…

The Talking Cure Taboo

20 Apr, 15 | by Iain Brassington

Guest post by C Blease

Talking cures have never been so accessible.  Since 2007 the UK government has invested £300 million launching its Improved Access to Psychological Treatments scheme.  The goal is to train up to 4000 therapists in a particular branch of psychotherapy – cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT).  CBT is the most widely researched and most commonly used “talking therapy” in the world.  It is also on the rise: globally, a quarter of all practicing therapists use it.

The UK government’s decision to invest in CBT seems praiseworthy: as Bob Hoskins used to counsel in the old BT adverts, “It’s good to talk”.  It is certainly a sentiment shared by the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP) – which adopts the familiar tag line for its URL (www.itsgoodtotalk.org.uk).

On the face of it, this seems like good advice.  Even a cursory look at the evidence base is encouraging.  Meta-analyses show that around 80 per cent of people who undergo psychotherapy for the treatment of depression are better off than those who receive no treatments.  They are also significantly less likely to relapse than those treated with antidepressants; some evidence even indicates that psychotherapy acts as a prophylactic, preventing future lapses into depression.  Given that the WHO estimates that depression will be the leading cause of disability in the world by 2020, the health benefits of psychotherapy carry enormous promise.  The potential relative healthcare costs of successfully treating (and preventing) depression with psychotherapy are significant too: in the UK depression incurs annual costs in lost earnings of £11 billion annually, and prescription rates for antidepressants are now at an all-time high.

Yet talking about talking cures is still taboo. more…

The Death of Sidaway: Values, Judgments and Informed Consent

15 Mar, 15 | by BMJ

Guest post by Kirsty Keywood (University of Manchester)

On 11th March Nadine Montgomery won her case before the UK Supreme Court to gain compensation for the failure of her obstetrician to warn her of risks associated with the vaginal delivery of a large infant – a risk which she would have averted by requesting a caesarean section.[1] Shortly after his birth, her son was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and a brachial plexus injury, resulting from the occlusion of the placenta during a “very stressful” vaginal delivery.

Nadine Montgomery had diabetes, which increased her chances of giving birth to a larger than average-sized baby. This, in conjunction with her small stature (she was 5 feet tall), indicated a risk that a natural delivery would bring with it a 9-10% chance of shoulder dystocia. Were dystocia to occur, attempts to dislodge the infant’s shoulders through mechanical manoeuvres would generate a risk of occlusion of the umbilical cord resulting in death or cerebral palsy of 0.1%. According to the obstetrician, Dr McLellan, the risk of shoulder dystocia did not merit specific mention in discussions with diabetic patients, because the risk of an adverse event associated with shoulder dystocia was very small indeed.

Mrs Montgomery’s case before the UK Supreme Court hinged on the question of the nature of the obstetrician’s duty to the patient. more…

Flogging and the Medic

3 Mar, 15 | by Iain Brassington

You must, by now, have heard of the Saudi Arabian blogger Raif Badawi.  Just in case you haven’t (really?), here’s a potted biography: having set up the secularist forum Free Saudi Liberals, he was arrested for insulting Islam and showing disobedience.  Among the formal charges he faced was one for apostasy, which carries the death penalty in Saudi.  The apostasy charge was dropped, but he was convicted on other charges and sentenced to seven years in prison and 600 lashes.  He appealed, and this sentence was changed: it became 1000 lashes and 10 years in prison.  Why?  Does it matter?  Because Saudi Arabia.  The latest update is that the apostasy charge may be renewed, so for a second time, he faces beheading.  Part of the evidence against him is that he “Liked” a post on a Facebook page for Arab Christians.  (Remember: Saudi is one of our allies against religious extremism.)

The lashes were to be administered in batches of 50, weekly, after Friday prayers.  As I write this, he has only been flogged once; doctors have attested that he is not well enough to be flogged again.  And – with thanks to Ophelia for the link – it’s  not hard to see why:

Dr Juliet Cohen, head of doctors at Freedom from Torture, explained: “When the cane strikes, the blood is forced from the tissues beneath… Damage to the small blood vessels and individual cells causes leakage of blood and tissue fluid into the skin and underlying tissue, increasing the tension in these areas.

“The more blows are inflicted on top of one another, the more chance of open wounds being caused. This is important because they are likely to be more painful and at risk of infection, which will cause further pain over a prolonged period as infection delays the wounds’ healing.”

There is also the long-term damage done to the victim’s mental health caused by flogging.

“Psychologically, flogging may cause feelings of fear, anxiety, humiliation and shame. Anticipation of the next scheduled flogging is likely to cause heightened emotions especially of fear, anxiety and difficulty sleeping… pain and fear together over a prolonged period have a deeply debilitating effect and recovery from such experiences may take considerable time,” said Cohen.

At the beginning of February, Vincent Iacopino had a post on the main BMJ blog in which he claimed that health professionals should play no part in Badawi’s flogging: more…

Adrenaline, Information Provision and the Benefits of a Non-Randomised Methodology

17 Aug, 14 | by Iain Brassington

Guest Post by Ruth Stirton and Lindsay Stirton, University of Sheffield

One of us – Ruth – was on Newsnight on Wednesday the 13th August talking about the PARAMEDIC2 trial.  The trial is a double blind, individually randomised, placebo controlled trial of adrenaline v. normal saline injections in cardiac arrest patients treated outside hospital.  In simpler terms, if a person were to have a cardiac arrest and was treated by paramedics, they would usually get an injection of adrenaline prior to shocks to start the heart.  If that same person was enrolled in this study they would still receive an injection but neither the person nor the paramedic giving the injection would know whether it was adrenaline or normal saline.  The research team is proposing to consent only the survivors for the collection of additional information after recovery from the cardiac arrest.  This study is responding to evidence coming from other jurisdictions that indicates that there might be some significant long term damage caused by adrenaline – specifically that adrenaline saves the heart at the expense of the brain.  It is seeking to challenge the accepted practice of giving adrenaline to cardiac arrest patients.

Our starting position is that we do not disagree with the research team.  These sorts of questions need to be asked and investigated.  The development of healthcare depends on building an evidence base for accepted interventions, and where that evidence base is not forthcoming from the research, the treatment protocols need changing.  This going to be tricky in the context of emergency healthcare, but that must not be a barrier to research.

There are two major ethical concerns that could bring this project to a grinding halt.  One is the opt-out consent arrangements, and the other is the choice of methodology.

Consent, then. more…

Paternalism up a Mountain

12 Aug, 14 | by Iain Brassington

“Paternalism” is one of those words that has a hell of a lot of power.  On several occasions, I’ve seen it used as a trump to shut down an argument: saying “But that’s paternalism” is, at least sometimes, treated as a way of showing that anyone arguing in favour of the allegedly paternalistic action is an imbecile, and has therefore lost the argument by default.  I suspect that this is due to a bastardisation of the (already iffy) “Georgetown Mantra”; but it does seem to be a position horribly common in medical schools.  It’s also very unsophisticated.  Whether or not something is paternalistic seems to me to be less important than whether it’s justified.  Something might be unjustified, and the reason for that might be because it’s paternalistic; but it doesn’t follow from that that no paternalism could be justified.  In just the same way, too much bleach or bleach in the wrong place is something you’d want to avoid; but it doesn’t follow that you should avoid bleach at all times and at all costs.

I want here to tell you a story based on something that happened just over a week ago. more…

Athletic Sex

11 May, 14 | by Iain Brassington

There was an interesting article published in the BMJ a few days ago on the subject of athletes and their sex.  Here’s the opening gambit:

The International Olympic Committee (IOC) and international sports federations have recently introduced policies requiring medical investigation of women athletes known or suspected to have hyperandrogenism. Women who are found to have naturally high testosterone levels and tissue sensitivity are banned from competition unless they have surgical or pharmaceutical interventions to lower their testosterone levels.

The primary justification offered seems to be one of reducing unfair advantage, with a secondary justification that investigations of this sort might be to the medical advantage of the athletes themselves. Rebecca Jordan-Young and her colleagues aren’t impressed, and think that the policy is ethically suspect: not the least of their worries is that the policy effectively medicalises an unusual but benign characteristic of some people.  This could lead to medically useless surgery.  However, the potential problems are wider than that:

When pharmacological intervention or gonadectomy is a precondition for eligibility to compete, an athlete has to make a profound life and health altering decision for non-medical reasons. These are not merely individual decisions: athletes are embedded in families, teams, organisations, and even nations that depend on them to compete. Athletes can be “regarded as vulnerable to undue, even extreme situational pressures arising from the decision-making environment,” especially when a competitive career is also a path to economic mobility and stability.

I have to admit that I’m fairly relaxed about surgical interventions being undergone for non-medical reasons; more…

JME blog homepage

Journal of Medical Ethics

Analysis and discussion of developments in the medical ethics field. Visit site



Creative Comms logo

Latest from JME

Latest from JME

Blogs linking here

Blogs linking here