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Charity Hospital in New Orleans was an incredible place for learning clinical medicine in the 1980s, a veritable clinical playground. As a third year medical student I was required to do difficult blood draws, put in central lines, and other tasks after seeing someone else do one (the phrase is “see one, do one, teach one”). In addition, I was called upon to write orders for antibiotics and do other “doctor” things which taught me responsibility, with my role increasing as I become more experienced. It was, however, a playground that was largely unsupervised.To say that supervision was limited was, well, charitable. We saw the attendings maybe once a week in the clinical wards. The residents were overwhelmed, leaving much of the work and the decision making to the medical students. As a student I grew up fast but often acted with little clinical seasoning and limited information.
Mostly what I remember is being scared that I would miss something. We had lectures in every clinical specialty but I remember them as being esoteric. at best. The Starling curve, while unquestionably amazing and unfailingly covered once a week, had little to do with what the Lasix dose should be in heart failure (for this particular drug the “Fat Man’s law” was much more useful). When I discovered the lectures were less useful than a work of fiction, I really panicked.
What did I use? For Internal Medicine, there were two great books. Harrison’s was written by a gentleman named Tinsley Harrison who had by that time made his way to UAB. Cecil’s was written by another guy (named Cecil, I believe). They covered the same material and were each over 1000 pages in length. I had classmates that read them both, in case there were discrepancies. The Washington Manual was written by some residents at Washington University (St Louis). My attendings looked down on it because it was lacking the academic rigor of Harrison’s or Cecil’s. I found it very useful at 0:darkthirty with a sick patient and not much time. If we had time, we went to the library. There was a multi-volume set, the Index Medicus, where one could look up a factoid using key words and track it to the source.
In addition, we used each other. We would ask each other “Hey, what do you think about…” and reassure ourselves that whatever course we decided on was the best one. We would then get the opportunity to defend ourselves in the cold light of day, always being asked for our source of information. We never claimed our colleagues as the source.
Which brings us to yesterday. I was the attending (Attendings now round every day) and their was a question about optimum antibiotic selection for a neonate with a fever. No textbooks. No manuals. Cellphones and tablets came out, databases were consulted (along with Up To Date) and within 3 minutes an evidence based answer was obtained (in fact, I won the mad google prize by getting to it in 3 clicks). Patient received optimum treatment less than 3 minutes after the treatment course was decided.
From the literature, it was clear that the Cecil’s/Harrison’s/Index Medicus skills used in residency did not move with the physician to private practice but asking a colleagues (or drug reps) opinion did. I am hopeful that mad googling skills will.
Discussion in medical school admissions committee:
Colleague: So I asked him “just why do you think you want to be a doctor” and he said, “Oh, you know, I like science, want to help people , like to problem solve.”
Me: I just learned about a new term called “the consent agenda.” In a meeting, if there is stuff everyone agrees on, you put it on the agenda as “consent items.” Then, with no discussion it can pass and you can move on to discussing something germane. I propose we notify all students that love of science, helping people, and problem solving are consent items. Then, we need to find out, how does this person know they REALLY want to be a doctor?
I just learned about this web site called DOC. DOC stands for “Drop Out Club” and it exists to help people transition from clinical medicine into a non-clinical arena such as management or sales. On their web site they say that the “name reflects the sentiment at our original gathering that no clear support systems existed for the paths we were pursuing.”
The site has about 10,000 members, although some may be lurkers like me. The forum at the site is full of folks who feel like they have made a terrible mistake with their lives and are looking for a way out. Many are in residency with statements like “I look around and can’t see myself doing this for the rest of my life” predominating.
Physician career dissatisfaction is a real problem. About 400 physicians commit suicide each year. Suicide is the number 2 cause of death in medical students (following accidents, some of which are also likely suicide). This is thought to be a consequence of underdiagnosed depression, almost certainly made worse by a rapid and monumental debt accumulation. In addition, I will concede that a love of science, a desire to help people, and a joy of problem solving are all good attributes. Unfortunately, they are not sufficient to combat an inchoate fear that you are 5 years and $300,000 into a terrible, terrible mistake. And it starts early, also:
A study of all medical students in the United States found that about 49.6% of medical students met the criteria for burn out and 51.3% for depression. Trust me—it’s not all from studying, but from being treated like crap, feeling like we can never make a mistake or ask for help and wondering if anything we do will help to change the status quo or are we just cogs in a wheel trying to crush us.
Approximately 15 years ago, Don Berwick outlined the triple aim for improving healthcare in this country – enhancing patient experience, improving population health, and reducing costs. Tom Bodenheimer recently outlined a fourth aim – improving the work life of health care providers, including clinicians and staff. He identifies the following as some of six things we can do in primary care to keep our colleagues engaged and off the DOC website:
Reduce the burden on the physician through team documentation: An encouraging trend I have seen among pre-med students is their being engaged as scribes. This way they get to learn what it is really like to be a physician by being a part of the team and the physician gets to go home without having to do two hours worth of charting after dinner.
Expand roles allowing nurses and medical assistants to assume responsibility for preventive care and chronic care health coaching under physician-written standing orders. Things that are automated should happen automatically with the physician not being a barrier to good preventive care. We need to model this for students
Co-locate teams so that physicians work in the same space as their team members; this has been shown to increase efficiency and save 30 minutes of physician time per day. We have gotten rid of the office in our practice. The physician work space is a shared space where interaction can occur. It is really important to level the field.
To avoid shifting burnout from physicians to practice staff, ensure that staff who assume new responsibilities are well-trained and understand that they are contributing to the health of their patients and that unnecessary work is reengineered out of the practice. This holds true for student members of the team as well. They need to understand their role in care delivery as part of the stress of being a student is constantly being thrown into a new environment.
In short, what we as educators need to do is make sure students understand what they are getting themselves into and make sure they have the tools necessary to do the tasks they are assigned. What students need to do is look away from the books and understand that this is not about science or helping people but is about acquiring the skills to enter into a very difficult profession. While interviewing a residency candidate for our residency it came out that she had been to cosmetology school and had cut hair at Walmart for 2 years. I asked her what the best thing she had learned from that experience was, and she said “When people sit down in that chair and say ‘do whatever you want,’ they don’t mean it.” I suspect she won’t burn out.
Last night we were at a dinner party where I met an honest to goodness professional poker player. I have to admit that I have never met someone who makes money off poker. Living close to Biloxi (home of several casinos) and knowing a lot of smart people I do know folks who count cards in blackjack. These people tend to be regular folks who can keep a running dialogue in their heads that goes something like +1, +1, -1, -1, +1, hit at 18. Folks who like to go to the casinos for entertainment and can count cards tend not to because it take all of the fun out of it. Folks who try to make a living by counting cards get found out and put on a “No Fly” list for gamblers mostly because the house resents them.
This professional gambler didn’t wear fancy clothes or a lot of jewelry. Turns out she could count cards and win at blackjack, but prefers poker because poker is a game of skill and the house tales a cut then lets players play (to coin a phrase). She is even better at online poker which is where my interest was piqued.
Me: So, I would think that on-line poker would be dominated by computers masquerading as real people
Poker-lady: Not so. Computers are actually not very good at poker.
Me: Really. But they are really good at chess
Poker-lady: Chess is a game where all of the elements are known. When a computer loses at chess it can go back and analyze every move, learning from its mistake and not making the same one again. In poker, there is too much uncertainty. The computer doesn’t know the opponents hole card or betting strategy. Computers don’t do well with uncertainty.
Turns out there is one bot (Cepheas) that is now able to hold its own in a type of poker (head-up limit Texas hold-em). This computer will play a single person (head up) and win money over time if the bet size is prescribed (limit). The computer is the work of AI investigators at the University of Alberta who, aside from trying to build their school’s endowment, are interested in solving the “imperfect information” game. Chess is an example of a perfect information game where all players have all information. In poker, everyone has limited information regarding their situation as well as their opponents’ situation. You know what your hole cards are but not your opponents’.
Doctoring, it turns out, is a game of imperfect information. I know what I have prescribed (medications, exercise, less calories) but have to ferret out what my opponent (patient) is holding (But doctor, when I said I only drink water, I meant to say a liter of soda pop. Does that make my sugars higher?). For years, programmers have tried to write code to do what I do and have been unsuccessful. The folks in Alberta are now working with diabetologists to create a program to help with diabetes:
“It turns out that one of the things a doctor does so well is come up with robust [recommendations] … And that’s what our poker programs have to do, they have to be robust to ‘what are the cards my opponent has, and how does my opponent play?’ ”
So, one day I might be able to use the wily computer to help me with my patient who “just can’t get controlled.” For most of my patients now, the flop is hypertension, diabetes, and hyperlipidemia, Until I get a bot, I’m assuming they have non-compliance and a lack of physical activity as their hole card. Does that make me a cardsharp?
Is it society’s duty to ensure equitable access in healthcare?
Question posed to my students in a health policy course
In his book “The Healing of America,” T.R. Reid identifies four distinct methods of (paying people who are) providing healthcare to the citizens of a country. Some countries follow the model of England and collect money form all citizens, mostly via taxes, and use that money to pay for needed care. It is also referred to as the Beveridge model, after Lord Beveridge, who wrote a report in the war years identifying disease as one of the five “Giant Evils” and recommended state action to combat this and other evils. In this model everyone is entitled. The second was the German model which mandates participation in private insurance. This is also referred to as the Bismark model, after Otto von Bismark, the Prussian chancellor who determined that universal healthcare could be a force in the fight for a unified Germany. In this model, everyone is mandated to participate. The third is the Canadian model, which taxes citizens to pay for care but allows health care entities to be private contractors. In this model, budgets are set at a regional level and as a consequence some artificial shortages are created. In this model, everyone is treated equitably within the system. Lastly is the “out-of-pocket” model. In this model, prevalent in developing countries, care is rationed based on ability to pay. In this model, no money=no access.
As T.R. Reid explained in his book and my class identified as America’s unifying model, we use an “all of the above” approach. For those over 65, active duty military, eligible veterans, and native Americans we apply the Beveridge model. Once Americans are in one of these groups, it IS society’s responsibility to provide equitable access in healthcare (well, sort of. Physicians can “opt-out” but for the most part, this is true). For those who work at jobs in larger businesses, we tend to apply the Bismark model (and Obamacare reinforces this). The employers are given a significant subsidy to provide health insurance and most Americans (before 2010, 66%) pay through healthcare via this mechanism. For some of the poor (mostly children and pregnant women but some with chronic illness) and military dependents we apply the Canadian model (how Medicaid and Tricare work, for the most part). For everyone else, we apply the pay- out-of-pocket-or-die-or-go-to-jail model. Obamacare attempted to move the last three groups into an amalgam of Beveridge (poor) and Bismark (everyone else) model.
Turns out the sticking point is the question I asked my students. Unlike my students, who had about a 70-30 split that it was a society and thus government problem, the American public thinks differently. Only 42% of Americans feel a responsibility for their fellow American’s access to healthcare. This increases as people get older peaking with of those who are 65 and older. 53% of these believe that government should not be providing their health care. The majority of folks opposing the law, in all fairness, despite this believe it is the responsibility of our elected officials to make the existing law (be it via Bismark, Beveridge, Canada, or other) work.
The New England Journal of Medicine has published two essays on this topic this week. The first, out of Kentucky, discusses the benefits to patients living in a poor state that has elected to avail itself of the improvements in access offered by the Affordable Care Act. The author, who had previously written of access problems, says it this way:
But during the past year, many of my lowest-income patients have, for the first time as adults, been able to seek nonurgent medical attention. I recently evaluated a 54-year-old man with hyperlipidemia and a systolic blood pressure of 190 mm Hg whose last physician visit had been with a pediatrician. Before he enrolled in Medicaid, he would have been unable to pay for his appointment and laboratory work, and I wouldn’t have considered offering him a screening colonoscopy since he would surely have been billed for it. Newly insured, however, he was able to afford the tests and medications that most Americans would expect to receive, and he told me he felt proud to have witnessed a sea change in health care delivery in Kentucky and that recent reforms seemed “just.”
On the other side of the discussion is South Carolina, an equally poor state that has elected not to avail itself of the benefits afforded via implementation of Obama-care. The author speaks of the many attempts to influence policy makers into accepting access for South Carolina’s poorest citizens. This culminated in a series of arrests following peaceful protests on the capitol steps. In his words, he had to act because
When I graduated from medical school in 1979, we did not take an oath, but I have since striven to adopt the words of Moses Maimonides as my guiding philosophy: “The eternal providence has appointed me to watch over the life and health of Thy creatures” and “Preserve the strength of my body and of my soul that they ever be ready to cheerfully help and support rich and poor, good and bad, enemy as well as friend.” My interpretation of this prayer is that I need not only be a good clinician in the hospital or clinic but also attend to the effects on my patients’ lives of the wider world, whether my own hospital or the state government. [W]e must pay attention to the whole patient. Similarly, I now believe that our concern for our patients should encompass the effects of public policies that result in direct harm.
I do believe it is society’s responsibility to provide equitable access and believe Obamacare is the mechanism through which to accomplish this. Living in Alabama, a state that has not accepted the Medicaid expansion, how do we as educators look those we teach in the eye and say “We did all we could” to ensure access for those who are poor, who have mental illness, who are unable to speak for themselves? Anyone else ready to march on Montgomery?
I write this blog for 3 audiences. Many of these posts are written for the lay audience. Someone will ask me while mowing the grass about ebola or chikungunya fever and I will provide my (not so) learned opinion in blog form. My friends then access my deep thoughts through Facebook so that at the next cocktail party the conversation goes like this:
Friend: I read your post about chikungunya fever
It seems I have a short memory.
Another audience I write for is folks who make policy. I have a small following of people who actually have some influence. When I write about access to care for Medicaid-gap Alabamians (my favorite subject), insurance monopolies, or the fact that a certain legislator is both against Medicaid expansion and for trying to insert a phrase into a law that takes money away from Medicaid and puts it into a client’s pocket that is the audience that I’m writing for. So, after writing a blog like that, a conversation might go:
Person in position of authority: Who is this Perkins character?
Person who actually knows me: Some commie, I suppose.
Lastly, I write for students of family medicine. In my day job, I run a department of family medicine. This means that I am involved with teaching medical students (most of whom will not go into family medicine) and resident physicians (almost all of whom will go into family medicine), seeing underserved patients (who likely do not know they are seeing a family physician), and supervising faculty physicians (ALL of whom know what they do and let me know about it ALL the time). This blog post is for this audience (but all of you others feel free to read as well).
This past week, the president of the American Academy of Family Medicine, Dr Robert Wergin, announced that Family Medicine 2.0 has arrived. Why the reset? As Don Berwick and T.R. Reid point out at the accompanying press conference, we in family medicine have been working on changing the way we do business since 2000. Meanwhile, the rest of the the medical-industrial complex, not so much. In the words of Dr Berwick, the time to change healthcare is NOW.
What we as a specialty have committed to is this:
- Give patients the care they need when they are most vulnerable
- Care for patients regardless of age and health conditions, and work to sustain an enduring and trusting relationship with them
- Be each patient’s first contact for health concerns. Address all their health concerns, and resolve most of them
- Help patients with preventing, understanding, and managing illness
- Navigate the health system with patients, including coordinating with specialists and staying connected with patients before, during, and after time spent in a hospital
- Set health goals that adapt to each patient’s needs as defined by them
- With the care team, use data and best science to prioritize and coordinate services most likely to benefit patients’ health
- Use technology to maintain and enhance access, continuity, and relationships, and to optimize patients’ care and outcomes
I get the New England Journal of Medicine (NEJM) delivered to my home. I know, I know, it is so 1980s to read a journal in paper form (ok, even to read a journal) but I enjoy browsing the most current science and sometimes retain a factoid that later might be useful. I still remember the time I read the Clinical Pathological Conference about a person with confusion and thrombocytopenia (low platelets) where the diagnosis turned out to be thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura (very rare) and darn if a person with that exact same presentation didn’t call me about a month later. I, the junior resident, called the hematologist who was at a party and he said something to the effect of “Yeah, right, what do you know…” I elected not to say “I read the New England Journal of Medicine, sir.” Instead I cited all the evidence without mentioning the NEJM article and he agreed with my diagnosis and came in. The patient survived without knowing that her life was saved (or at least the diagnosis was made in a timely fashion) because I got a journal and actually read it.
Many of the diagnoses for those complex cases in the NEJM hinge on an unusual piece of history. Typically, that history is not in the story of the illness (in doctor lingo, the HPI). A fever that starts a week ago is pretty much the same whether it is the flu or malaria. Instead, the clue is in the family or social history. “The patient reports swimming in a waterfall pool in Hawaii” would make me think “leptospirosis” (an infection carried by rats and spread through their urine, typically in large concentrations in the stream above the waterfall…kind of makes you think twice about those movie love scenes, doesn’t it). Part of the job of the health care team is to gather the correct information and synthesize it, keeping the valuable information (swimming in a waterfall pool) and discarding the red herrings (wearing a blue bathing suit). Part of the fun of medicine is to put things together and make a diagnosis so as not to miss a NEJM moment.
Although the details are sketchy, apparently someone in Dallas missed their NEJM moment and is blaming the computer. If you have not heard, Thomas Eric Duncan, a Liberian national, got on an airplane feeling well in Monrovia. He then flew to Brussels, Washington DC, and ended up with family in Dallas. When he started to feel ill, he want to the Emergency Room. At the time (5 days before he got really sick) he had some fever, body aches, and in general wasn’t feeling well. This is where the facts become murky but clearly the moment was missed. Even a doctor, half paying attention (“Ok, so any travel? New pets?”) should raised an eyebrow when a person with an accent says “Well, I did just get in from Liberia.” Reading between the lines of the Slate article, the hospital apparently assigned someone to take a history and enter it into the electronic medical record (perhaps to save the clinician time). Thus, “travel to Liberia” was buried in the record.
Doctoring is very expensive and interpreting symptoms is often unrewarding. Of 1000 people with fever, 999 will have something self-limited. This is especially true in America, where many infectious diseases have been eliminated. There is something, however, to be said for inefficiency. Every now and again, what one person thinks is a red herring (just where is Liberia, anyway) another puts into a pattern and prevents an epidemic. Doctors have got to want a NEJM moment enough, though, to pay attention.
I have to remember that I’m an officer and when I give a Marine an order they will obey no matter what. When I use the tonometer and say “don’t blink” I had better remember to follow up with “blink” before they get dry eyes.
Conversation with a Navy Optometrist
I remember fondly my time being a doctor to the Marines. Wet behind the ears, eager to hone my craft, suddenly given superhuman abilities such that with only an internship I could function independently in a remote setting…oh, wait, that last part didn’t happen. Fortunately there was, on the base with me, a wizened old doc (I think his name was Wenzel) who had practiced in rural Kentucky prior to going back and studying pediatrics. His counsel was always wise and when distilled down often ended up being “When in doubt, turf it out.”
We were at a fairly busy ambulatory clinic and urgent care center in Kaneohe, Hawaii. All of us took call. I remember making multiple trips to the civilian hospitals to transport patients. The active duty dependent and military retiree patients had to pay quite a bit out-of-pocket if they used the civilian facilities without consulting us first. We used to get folks driving PAST the civilian hospital to come to our ambulatory dispensary having heart attacks (I can remember one dying on the H-3 while in the car, wife driving 80 miles an hour) and respiratory arrests (one of the most harrowing ambulance rides of my life, ever) in addition to the assorted 21-year-old Marines who never failed to learn the lesson that alcohol renders no one invincible. The lessons I learned there about the limits of an ambulatory practice setting, the triage and transport of sick people, as well as the health risks folks will take as they try to save a buck, have stayed with me for 25 years.
I also learned some very concrete lessons on practice organization and care delivery. First, we had a very robust quality assurance program and worked hard to create a culture of quality and safety before it was fashionable. Second, against the wishes of the base commanding officer who wanted to have “his own hospital,” any attempt to be who we were not (a small ambulatory presence designed to get folks the care they need when they need it) was resisted by folks above my pay grade. Third, the Navy was experimenting with nurses in charge of practices such as this and I was extremely fortunate to work with several very good Nurse Corps OICs and learned to work as a member of a care team.
The military is a unique practice environment. The emphasis on readiness as well as wellness provides lessons for all of us in healthcare. Unfortunately, military medicine may be in trouble. The remote locations, providers who may not be invested with tours of only 3 to 5 years, and inexperienced physicians who are moved rapidly up in rank based on medical training apparently has led to problems. The New York Times has recently published a story highlighting the downside that is worth a read. I was most struck by the quality and safety problems highlighted in the article. Physicians are apparently being placed in small hospitals with skills ill-suited for the location and/or patient population and attempting to provide care comparable to what they learned in their training. In addition, data aggregation techniques now used in the civilian world to assess quality and improve care are not in common use in the military hospitals. Leadership positions are being given to physicians who have a high rank by virtue of their residency training but limited real world or even military experience. The military is not entirely to blame. When they try to consolidate hospitals or provide care in a different fashion they are obstructed by the community, who uses their congressperson to keep the jobs local.
Our troops and their families as well as those who have retired from active duty have the expectation of high quality and safe healthcare, as does the general public. We need to equip all physicians with the skills necessary to practice in the environment in which they find themselves. Surgeons in isolated areas need to focus on doing small procedures well and leave the complex cases for hospitals with teams to provide care, whether on a military base or in rural Alabama. We need to teach how to assess and incorporate meaningful quality and safety practices starting at day one of medical school and not assume competency by virtue of a residency training certificate. The Milestone project seems to be a good start at making sure this happens at the residency level. Lastly, we need to teach leadership. Physicians are expected to be leaders. It’s time we give them the tools to do it.
Forever there has been a power struggle between the medical school faculty and physicians in the community. For those of you who are versed in House of God, the book about medical care in the early 1970s, attendings and residents at the House as well as the students who went to BMS (Best Medical School) would reference care delivered by LMDs. This term referred to “Local Medical Doctors,” known uniformly for taking crappy care of patients who were then transferred to the “House” where life-saving intervention would occur. The protagonist soon realized that there was more to medical care then doing stuff to people, culminating in realizing the truth in Fat Man’s Rule 13 (THE DELIVERY OF GOOD MEDICAL CARE IS TO DO AS MUCH NOTHING AS POSSIBLE). In the 1970s, the reality is that physicians on medical school faculty tended to earn less, a LOT less, that the LMDs, may have adding to the tension.
Somewhere about 20 years ago, LMDs traded their label for another that was even more pejorative – PCP. The Primary Care Provider concept was created in part to reduce the confusion around training requirements of physicians (Family Medicine, Internal Medicine, Pediatrics) and non-physicians (Physicians Assistant, Advanced Practice Nurse) who might provide primary care to a given patient. Patients don’t use the term, PCPs find the term demeaning, and the term doesn’t really reflect the complexity of care delivery that happens in the primary care office. Teaching hospitals, though, became Academic Health Centers and were distinguished in part by their lack of PCPs as well as their lack of desire to train them. The Academic Health Center was home to Specialists.
It is now almost 40 years since House of God was published. Obamacare is the law of the land and the law encourages the use of primary care. This is in part because the work of Barbara Starfield demonstrated that health care is just better when people have access to primary care, and in part because a lot of work was done to demonstrate that specific models which incorporate primary care lead to better health outcomes. Programs like the Massachusetts Blue Cross Alternative Quality Contract and truly integrated systems like Kaiser and Health Partners led to better outcomes. The work on Patient Centered Medical Home initiatives led to this specific type of primary care being incorporated in the law as well. Good primary care, so the saying goes, will keep you healthy. If you happen to get sick, it will help keep your costs down by keeping you out of the hospital. If you happen to go to the hospital, it’ll keep you from being harmed and help maintain quality care.
This week, the Houses of God are fighting back against the LMDs. The University Healthsystem Consortium (the trade organization for Academic Health Centers) put out a video entitled Through the looking glass: a new perspective on population management. Their video tells us the following in convenient cartoon form: 1) Most people just randomly become ill so don’t need a specific LMDs but instead need access to a CVS with a nameless Pee Cee Peee (their pronunciation) sitting and waiting for you to show up (and perhaps willing to give you a Z-pak “to prevent pneumonia”). Oh, yeah, and prevention is too expensive so let’s blow off trying to get people Pap smears and mammograms and focus on treatment. 2) If you are chronically ill or sick with a serious illness, you don’t need a Pee Cee Pee at all but a House of God led team of folks. According to the video, they are sitting on the steps of the House just waiting for you to show up. 3) If you suffer from an early chronic illness you might want a Pee Cee Pee, but only get one who has the number to a specialty hotline, just in case you need one of the specialists at the House. You know how those Pee Cee Pees are.
The UHC’s vision is a dystopian one where patients are taking ambulances to the Academic Health Center for their not-well-controlled diabetes because the local House of God is 2 hours away and the Pee Cee Pee is unqualified to administer insulin. The evidence they cite for the effectiveness of this model is dated and incorrect. I can only hope that the Academic Medical Centers and their research arm, UHC Research Institute (TM), have a better plan for survival before the next “House of God” is written without them.
Student (to friend while walking to hotel): All of these programs compete on the number of procedures they claim to teach. I don’t see how you have time to learn all of that in a three year residency. They are going to have to go to four years, like Med-Peds.
I spent a couple of days with our team in Kansas City at the National Conference of Family Medicine Residents and Medical Students this past week, as I do every year. We sat in a booth and interacted with young physicians-to-be who were looking for residency training information as well as information regarding Mobile (our fair city) Alabama. We did not discuss the upcoming mayor’s race but instead talked about what we thought would attract young people (mostly the beach). All residency programs in Family Medicine are required to have about 27 of the 36 months in common. The 300 or so programs that also had booths at this conference were also trying to show their programs’ differences in the best light possible. Thus, the emphasis on teaching procedures such as colonoscopy.
Medical students apply to medical school with surprisingly little knowledge of what the future will hold in the way of medical practice. They enter medical school, for the most part, secure that they are very smart, enjoy science, and (as they invariably will tell me when asked) “want to help people.” The initial medical school experience is rather generic and very few students enter into it knowing what kind of a doctor they want to be when they grow up. My experience, back up with some data, is that potential income plays a large role in student career choice when they start paying attention to the residency selection selection process. Thus the emphasis on teaching procedures.
Forever, doctors and medical students have liked performing procedures. Partly, this the nature of the job. Allopathy (also known as heroic medicine), the lineage from which the M. D. degree was derived in the early 1800s, emphasized purging, blood letting, and other very aggressive manners of curing illness. Partly this is the nature of students. Liking science and wanting to help people goes hand in hand with “doing stuff to people.” We on admissions committees don’t look for shrinking violets. Partly, as was recently pointed out in the Washington Post, doing stuff to people pays more per hour than not doing stuff. A LOT more. The American Medical Association has been entrusted since 1965 to give Medicare time estimates on how long a procedure should take. Medicare uses that information to set the reimbursement rates which end up being the standard by which every insurance company sets rates. The Post’s investigation revealed that the time component was overestimated by 100% in some cases. Meaning that physicians who do a lot of procedures are packing into 8 hours what Medicare considers to be 26 hours worth of work. The payment follows. Thus the emphasis on teaching procedures.
We spend twice as much on healthcare in this country than the average industrialized country and though we get more stuff done to us we do not live as long nor find ourselves healthier (in fact we find ourselves less healthy) than our peer countries. Our program is teaching the tenets of the Patient Centered Medical Home, emphasizing care that is of high quality, evidence based, and focused on the patient needs as opposed to income generating. These concepts and skills we can teach in 3 years. Although, I will admit, we do teach our share of procedures.
I am hopeful that the price we pay as a country for “procedures” will become less over time. I am also hopeful we will select students who really want to improve people’s lives. It turns out that high quality primary care often improves health much more than a procedure does.
The model promotes system-wide efficiency via payment reform, accountability, continuous process improvement and waste reduction,” Intel’s report said. “Value-based compensation is based on a global per-member per month target with shared risks and rewards if the results fall outside a buffer zone of expected results.”