Well, we missed Earth Day this year, which fell on April 22nd. The theme was to protect threatened and endangered species. One excuse is that we’ve been too focused on the cardinals building a nest in our back yard this spring. They are neither threatened nor endangered. I would call them fussy, especially when we get too close to the nest in our evergreen tree.
My other excuse is that April 22, 2019 was the day I had my
last official work-related CPR recertification. It’s valid for two years but I’ll
be retired next year. CPR is very important and I take the class seriously. I
always seem to have a problem getting the bag mask tight enough on the
mannequin’s face to get a good breath in.
This year there was an electronic device to monitor the
quality of your chest compressions. It lights up green to let you know when they’re
adequate. Orange lights means you have to fix your technique. That was new for
me and I was probably not letting up enough to let the heart fill. Imagine
that. I’ve probably had poor technique for years.
Getting back to the cardinals, we’ve noticed that there are two eggs, off white with brown speckles. We’ve never seen eggs like that and we can distinguish them from the eggs of robins and chipping sparrows. The cardinal parents chirp pretty loudly at us whenever we get too close to the tree.
Northern Cardinal eggs…we’re pretty sure.
Also, it’s Hosta planting time in the back-yard garden, a
job my wife does because my form with a shovel is just as bad as my chest
compressions and bag breathing on the CPR mannequin.
Last year, we got out for Earth Day and I found an old polaroid camera while we were out on the Clear Creek Trail. I’m not sure how harmful it was to the environment. Judging from its condition, the environment was more harmful to the polaroid.
Polaroid in good condition.
On the other hand, we did spot a plastic bottle, which is harmful to the environment. We did the appropriate thing by dropping it in the proper trash receptacle.
Plastic goes in the trash.
Today is National DNA Day, which celebrates the discovery
and understanding of DNA and the scientific advances that understanding has
made possible. About the only thing important to me about it is that there are a
few things that are definitely not in my DNA:
Cooking—unless it’s sticking a frozen pizza in the oven.
Planting Hostas.
Bag breathing the CPR mannequins.
Reading, listening to, or watching political news.
Eating shredded coconut.
Sitting in a psychiatry outpatient clinic, waiting for no-shows.
Waiting in airports.
Shopping for anything.
Removing or spreading mulch.
It’s an incomplete list, of course. Happy DNA Day!
I’m back on my soap box about Maintenance of Certification (MOC) again. Sidney Weissman, M.D. remarked in a letter to the editor of Psychiatric News (April 19, 2019 issue, Vol. 54, No. 8) on the rising numbers of graduating medical students who match in psychiatry residency slots. Many will graduate from these programs into private practice clinics which will emphasize seeing large numbers of patients primarily for medication management. Psychiatric hospitalists like me are uncommon, which tends to decelerate the movement toward integrating medical and psychiatric care and limits the application of psychotherapy which psychiatrists have historically done but which has been replaced by medication management.
While the match
numbers continue to grow in psychiatry, the dissatisfaction with regulatory
pressures from certification boards like the American Board of Psychiatry and
Neurology (ABPN) also continue to frustrate psychiatrists who are compelled to
oppose the Maintenance of Certification (MOC). Indeed, another prominent story
in the psychiatric news is the class action lawsuit against the ABPN filed by
two psychiatrists, alleging that the MOC requirements are illegal and
anticompetitive. See the story in the April issues of Clinical Psychiatry News
and Psychiatric News.
Along with the
increasing numbers of psychiatrists who are retiring (more than 60% of
psychiatrists are over the age of 55), and I interpret the increasing
Psychiatry match numbers with cautious optimism at best.
I have always
advocated for the principle of life-long learning for physicians and opposed
MOC because, in my opinion, it’s a drag on the progress of fulfilling the
principle. The reason is that there is very little evidence supporting the
certification boards’ assertions that MOC makes better physicians.
I have supported the position of Dr. Paul Teirstein, MD, one of the leading physicians spearheading the National Board of Physicians and Surgeons (NBPAS), and I’ve recommended that the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics (UIHC) consider accepting NBPAS as an alternative to the American Board of Medical Specialties (ABMS) MOC. Three Iowa hospitals already do so.
I’ve been in phased retirement and expect to be fully retired by 2020. Because of that, I decided not to seek continued certification through either NBPAS or ABMS. I chose not to pay the fee required by the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology (ABPN) to sit for the recertification examination. Consequently, that resulted in my being identified as “Certified” although “Not Meeting MOC Requirements.” This was data about me as a physician which was readily available to the public and other organizations. I think it’s unfortunate that this practice tends to convey the impression some physicians are less qualified than others based on their certification status alone.
My current listing on the ABPN web site.
Now I’m listed on the ABPN as “Not Certified” of course. Ironically, my Performance in Practice (PIP) module on delirium, the Delirium Clinical Module is still there. You can find it just by typing the word “delirium” in the search field. In my previous blog, The Practical C-L Psychiatrist, there was virtually no interest in such a module, at least judging from my far from scientific poll about 6 years ago. Yet it’s one of the few modules available on the ABPN website that C-L psychiatrists would welcome.
Low interest in an ABPN MOC Delirium PIP activity in 2013
I’m aware that
declining to sit for what would have been the last MOC recertification
examination in my career might not be viewed as much of a protest, especially
since I’m retiring.
I’m also aware that
many physicians are not in a position to decline participation in MOC. Some
organizations and health insurers demand it, prompting several physicians and
state legislators to collaborate toward adopting or consider adopting laws to
discourage it.
To be fair, MOC is
often not the only criterion that organizations use to ensure patients are
getting the best health care available. And there are many who work diligently
to improve the MOC process and believe it works. Enhancing the motivation for
physicians to participate in MOC is complicated and we need to consider
different practice environments, physician burnout, and financial incentive
programs which have typically attracted few physicians overall.
It’s difficult to
find much information on PubMed about MOC, whether you search using the Most
Recent or the Best Match filter. In both, I found a paper by a doctor which
appeals to my sense of humor as well as to my sense of fair play. It was
written by a Singapore physician, for whom the dollar cost of recertification
was over $10,000. His nerves took a beating as well as his bank account.
Speaking of banking, here is the authors’ final observation:
Physicians
should be able to choose a programme that best fits their scope of practice.
However, it is likely that, besides the efforts put in by physicians themselves
as a commitment to professionalism, the economic price will be borne by
patients in the name of public assurance of medical competence and safety. If
the burden becomes too onerous, one can always become a banker. —
Teo, B. W. and S. Subramanian (2015). “Maintenance of certification: the
price of medical professionalism is $10,108.05, two weeks leave and five white
hairs.” Singapore Med J 56(4): 181-183.
I’m a very busy consultation-liaison
psychiatrist in a large academic medical center. I think there are alternatives
to MOC which don’t waste my time with modules and tests which typically are not
relevant to my practice.
For example, I have
followed the model of the practice-based learning and improvement competency at
the University of Iowa by using what Drs. William R. Yates and Terri Gerdes
called the “problem-based learning” case conference. The abstract for their
paper describes it:
“Problem-based
learning (PBL) is a method of instruction gaining increased attention and
implementation in medical education. In PBL there is increased emphasis on the
development of problem-solving skills, small group dynamics, and self-directed
methods of education. A weekly PBL conference was started by a university
consultation psychiatry team. One active consultation service problem was
identified each week for study. Multiple computerized and library resources
provided access to additional information for problem solving. After 1 year of
the PBL conference, an evaluation was performed to determine the effectiveness
of this approach. We reviewed the content of problems identified, and conducted
a survey of conference participants. The most common types of problem
categories identified for the conference were pharmacology of psychiatric and
medical drugs (28%), mental status effects of medical illnesses (28%),
consultation psychiatry process issues (20%), and diagnostic issues (13%).
Computerized literature searches provided significant assistance for some
problems and less for other problems. The PBL conference was ranked the highest
of all the psychiatry resident educational formats. PBL appears to be a
successful method for assisting in patient management and in resident and
medical student psychiatry education.”
This is now called the Clinical Problems in Consultation-Psychiatry (CPCP) and trainees from medical students to residents participate as presenters. The format is also used as a framework for the Consultation-Liaison Psychiatry Interest Group at Iowa. There are lively discussions at these meetings, to which colleagues from other medical specialty departments are invited. The model for this was adapted from that reported by Puri and colleagues.
Yet these and other
creative practice-based learning efforts which are relevant to our practices
are not on the approved product list for CME and Self-Assessment at the ABPN.
To be sure, one
Performance in Practice (PIP) clinical module (mentioned above) that I and one
of our residents submitted to ABPN was approved. This was the Delirium Clinical
Module, for which we received congratulations from leaders of the Academy of
Consultation-Liaison Psychiatry (ACLP). This is a clinically relevant exercise
which could be useful to many medical specialists, not just psychiatrists. It would
also be important for enhancing patient safety—which is the whole idea of
practice-based learning.
I have worked with the Iowa Medical Society (IMS) to get resolutions adopted as IMS Policy which support the principle of lifelong learning and which oppose both MOC and Maintenance of Licensure (MOL).
The idea that if doctors don’t develop a
system for monitoring continued competence in psychiatry, other groups will do
it for us likely comes from what are essentially cases of medical malpractice.
This was probably what was meant by the ABPN response to my criticisms of the
MOC process several years ago, which was that part of the reason for MOC was
the public’s demand for a way to hold physicians accountable for harming
patients.
One of the papers citing this problem was by
Shaw and colleagues. The authors mention “damaging high-profile cases” one
example of which triggered the Bristol Inquiry in the United Kingdom leading to
the “development of a compulsory integrated regulatory program with oversight
in all levels of medical care from hospital systems to the practice of
individual physicians.
This is the United Kingdom’s revalidation
program, which is similar to MOC or perhaps more properly, MOL.
The irony is that the
American Board of Medical Specialties (ABMS) and member specialty boards
including the ABPN claim the American version of MOC is a voluntary program and
that this is “self-regulation.” It’s not clear who else would “do it for us”
though—some government agency? It’s hardly necessary when, as Dr. Paul Mathews
reported recently, some private insurance payers require participation in MOC.
He’s a voluntary board member of the National Board of Physicians and Surgeons
(NBPAS), which is a newly established alternative to the ABMS which doesn’t
require MOC participation:
“WHAT DO PRIVATE PAYERS GAIN FROM REQUIRING
MOC?
As a volunteer board member of NBPAS (no
compensation or honorarium as opposed to the salaries of ABMS board members,
which can range from $300,000 to greater than $800,000), I have often wondered
why private payers require MOC when Medicare does not require board
certification or MOC. The answer is quite disturbing. Private payers actually
participate in certification, which is issued by the National Committee of Quality
Assurance (NCQA). Margaret E. O’Kane is the founder and president of the NCQA,
and she is also a member of the ABMS Board of Directors. The NCQA requires
private payers to require physicians to participate in MOC in order to be NCQA
certified. Thus, anyone contracting with a private payer will require MOC. In
the conflicted case of Ms. O’Kane, she profits from the NCQA requiring private
payers to require physicians to participate in MOC, and then she profits again
from her ABMS position when said physicians must pay to comply with MOC
requirements”
This raises another concern about MOC, which
is the ever-present cloud of suspicion the ABMS and some of the member
specialty boards are under, especially the American Board of Internal Medicine
(ABIM).
According to Charles
Cutler, M.D., M.A.C.P., in the winter 2016-17 issue of Philadelphia Medicine,
Philadelphia County Medical Society, in an issue entitled “Is The ABIM Too
Broken to Fix?” article “A Message to the ABIM: Reign in Spending and Stop
Turning Staff into Millionaires,” reforms should in fact include doing just
what the title says and much more.
Board executives, especially CEOs, make what
appear to be enormous six-figure incomes from the MOC programs, including Dr.
Larry Faulkner, M.D., the President and CEO of the ABPN who earned over
$900,000 in 2014 according to IRS Form 990.
Those with a low
opinion of the adage about “…the wise old doctor who improves with experience…”
should probably be shared with those board leaders who made the arbitrary
cutoff date for requiring participation in MOC, grandfathering physicians board
certified prior to 1994, thereby exempting them from the program.
Participation in MOC would make more sense if there were credible research evidence that it improves patient outcomes. However, the studies tend not to support this conclusion.
And MOC is not
supported by most physicians, according the results of a Mayo Clinic
Proceedings survey, indicating that “Dissatisfaction with current MOC programs
is pervasive and not localized to specific sectors or specialties. Unresolved
negative perceptions will impede optimal physician engagement in MOC.”
Finally, any
suggestion to sign up right away for MOC probably should be preceded by another
important action, which is to first check with your institution to see if MOC
participation or, indeed, board certification itself, is a condition of
employment. It may not be.
What are the
alternatives to the MOC approach? They depend on one’s level of attachment to
keeping some sort of certification status.
There is the
alternative National Board of Physicians and Surgeons (NBPAS), which was
launched in 2015 and offers board re-certification without MOC or
recertification examination requirements. There is a nominal fee and CME
requirement. A previous ABMS certification is also required, but if that has
lapsed one can still obtain certification by submitting a higher number of CME
credits.
NBPAS leaders are
very much aware that certain private insurance payers require MOC participation.
It was the top priority for NBPAS in 2017. See their website for full details
about their re-certification process.
Physicians could simply forgo MOC or alternative certifications, which would probably raise more anxiety. For example, if one simply stops sending money to the ABPN toward MOC requirements and declines to sit for the recertification examination, then after the general board expires one would be identified as “Certified-not meeting MOC requirements.” But after the examination date passes, you’re Not Certified. The prudent diplomate should first check with ABPN for clarification of specific details and should check their employer’s expectations and insurance payer rules about MOC.
In my opinion, there
ought to be a choice to participate in MOC or some other vehicle for fulfilling
the principle of lifelong learning. Those who want MOC should keep it. Those
who don’t should be allowed to continue using the method they’re most
comfortable with for maintaining their knowledge and clinical skills, including
CME and other creative methods for staying current with the medical literature.
Our patients deserve
at least this much.
“It is far better to light the candle than to curse the darkness”—attributed to William L. Watkinson in a 1907 sermon according to Quote Investigator.
William L. Watkinson
References:
Pato, M. T., et al. (2013). “Journal club
for faculty or residents: A model for lifelong learning and maintenance of
certification.” International Review of Psychiatry 25(3): 276-283.
Brooks, E. M., et al. (2017). “What
Family Physicians Really Think of Maintenance of Certification Part II
Activities.” J Contin Educ Health Prof 37(4): 223-229.
Tieder, J. S., et al. (2017). “A Survey
of Perceived Effectiveness of Part 4 Maintenance of Certification.” Hosp
Pediatr 7(11): 642-648.
Stoff, B. K., et al. (2018). “Maintenance
of Certification: A grandfatherly ethical analysis.” Journal of the
American Academy of Dermatology 78(3): 627-630.
Glover, M., et al. (2017). “Participation
and payments in the PQRS Maintenance of Certification Program: Implications for
future merit based payment programs.” Healthcare.
Teo, B. W. and S. Subramanian (2015).
“Maintenance of certification: the price of medical professionalism is
$10,108.05, two weeks leave and five white hairs.” Singapore Med J 56(4):
181-183.
More References:
1. Boland, R., MD, Maintenance
of Certification, in Psychiatric Times. 2017, UBM Medica.
2. Knoll, J.L., IV, MD;
Cotoman, Dan, MD, Maintenance of Certification and Self-Mortification, in
Psychiatric Times. 2017, UBM Medica.
3. Shanafelt, T.D., L.N.
Dyrbye, and C.P. West, Addressing physician burnout: The way forward. JAMA,
2017. 317(9): p. 901-902.
4. Bright, R.P. and L. Krahn,
Value-added education: enhancing learning on the psychiatry inpatient
consultation service. Acad Psychiatry, 2015. 39(2): p. 212-4.
5. Yates, W.R. and T.T.
Gerdes, Problem-based learning in consultation psychiatry. Gen Hosp Psychiatry,
1996. 18(3): p. 139-44.
6. Puri, N.V., P. Azzam, and
P. Gopalan, Introducing a psychosomatic medicine interest group for psychiatry
residents. Psychosomatics, 2015. 56(3): p. 268-73.
7. Shaw, K., et al., Shared
medical regulation in a time of increasing calls for accountability and
transparency: comparison of recertification in the United States, Canada, and
the United Kingdom. JAMA, 2009. 302(18): p. 2008-14.
8. Mathew, P., MD, MOC and
Physician Burnout: Treating the Cause, Not the Symptoms, in Practical
Neurology. 2016.
9. Cutler, C., MD, MACP, A
Message to the ABIM: Reign in Spending and Stop Turning Staff into Millionaires,
in Philadelphia Medicine: The Official Magazine of the Philadelphia County
Medical Society Philadelphia Medicine 2016, Hoffmann Publishing Group, Inc.
10. Gray, B.M., et al.,
Association between imposition of a Maintenance of Certification requirement
and ambulatory care-sensitive hospitalizations and health care costs. JAMA,
2014. 312(22): p. 2348-57.
11. Hayes, J., et al.,
Association between physician time-unlimited vs time-limited internal medicine
board certification and ambulatory patient care quality. JAMA, 2014. 312(22):
p. 2358-63.
12. Cook, D.A., et al.,
Physician Attitudes About Maintenance of Certification. Mayo Clinic
Proceedings, 2016. 91(10): p. 1336-1345.
Sometimes I think about my brother Randy, who died 19 years ago. His last days were made immeasurably easier by the caring staff at Hospice of North Iowa. He worked at a local artificial ice company for many years. He died when he was 43 of cancer, before either of our parents died.
Jim Amos
Randy Amos
He will always be remembered for his generosity, kindness,
and infectious sense of humor. A sense of humor ran in the family, despite hardships.
He had a raw, honest, and often boisterous passion. We treasure everything he
gave us.
Even the courageous way he let go of his life was a gift. He
died as he lived, in the arms and in the hearts of the people who loved him.
I learned a valuable lesson about that. On his last day in
the hospice, I was determined to be with him up to the moment he died, staring
down death in his face. I’m still not sure why I wanted to do that.
Then a couple of his long-time friends stopped by to see
him. Death watch was interrupted as we visited in his room. I faced them, reluctantly
taking my eyes off him. They talked to me, sharing their memories of him while
he was alive. I soon became painfully aware that there were many who knew Randy
in ways that I did not know. He was a dear friend and even a surrogate father
to many.
They talked; I listened and learned. I lost track of the time. When there was a break in their discourse, I quickly turned back to Randy. He was already gone. He had slipped away while his friends, his other family, were sharing something with me far more important than my death watch. I learned more about humility that day than I can recall learning ever since. There is a brick in the driveway of Hospice of North Iowa on which is etched the message, “He ran his race.”
Randy was a track man in school. He could outrun just about
anyone. He was also pretty fast on his gold flake Schwinn Stingray bicycle. I
notice there are vintage Stingrays going for thousands of dollars these days. He
could fishtail and wheelie like nobody’s business.
My father used to say that the only difference between me and Randy was that he could cook and I couldn’t. There were a few other differences.
Jimmy and Randy (I’m in the wagon)
Through an unfortunate circumstance that I still don’t
understand, Randy was my patient on our Medical-Psychiatry Unit in the late
1990s, shortly after he was diagnosed with cancer. I would never have done this
by choice, but it seemed there was no one else to cover the unit at the time.
He was delirious, probably from an accidental overdose on
opioid pain medicines during a difficult stage in his cancer treatment. It’s
really not possible to describe the conflict I had about being both his brother
and his doctor. It should not have happened—but it did. He didn’t recognize me.
He mumbled. He twitched. He drifted in and out of awareness. I knew all the
signs; I saw delirium every day in the hospital.
But this was different because this patient was my brother.
I will never forget. After that, I had a much better understanding of what
families goes through when they witness delirium in a loved one. I will not
miss this part of my job when I retire.
Randy was my best man at my wedding in 1977. I bought him a nice
pocket watch, which was buried with him. I do not visit his grave not because I
don’t love him, but because I would rather remember him as he was.
My wife and I spent a few months living in Madison,
Wisconsin back in 2008. I had taken a new job as a psychiatrist there. It was
the second of two blunders moving from academic medicine to private practice,
the first being a move to Illinois, also very short-lived.
We really liked Madison and sometimes dream of moving back
there after I’ve retired. It’s an interesting city with many sights to see and
things to do.
One of the interesting sights we saw was a mysterious bronze sculpture that I’ve only just today found the explanation for. It looks like Humpty Dumpty of the familiar nursery rhyme and riddle. I found out a lot more about Humpty Dumpty and his odd brother Harry Dumpty, who is actually the subject of the sculpture found in front of the Madison Municipal Building just south of the intersection of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and East Doty Street.
Harry Dumpty
I never knew the sculpture was Harry Dumpty. It sat above a
large concrete wall with an inscription on it which I just assumed was
connected to the sculpture and probably still sits there although we couldn’t
find it in 2012 when we returned for a visit:
“David James
Schaefer, 1955-2004
was a phenomenal phenomenon. Though plagued by the
progressive debilities of cerebral palsy, “Schaefer” was an
uncomplaining and generous friend to many. Disability Rights Specialist for the
City of Madison in three different settings, his death of a heart attack in
September 2004 made a hole in our community which cannot ever be filled.
Erected by the Friends of Schaefer at private
expense.”
It turns out Harry Dumpty has no connection to David James Schaefer. In fact, Harry is one of several similar sculptures created by artist Brent George, who made him in 1997, saying he’s Humpty’s brother. If you look closely at the book sitting open next to Harry, it’s entitled “Harry Dumpty.” Brent George’s name is below it. Brent’s phone number is on the front of the wall. Evidently somebody called him and asked about the sculpture. Brent says there’s no connection between the sculpture and the inscription.
A copy of Harry Dumpty sits outside of the Dekalb Public Library in Dekalb, Illinois. Brent moved from there to Madison, Wisconsin. In the local online newspaper, the Daily Chronicle, news editor Jillian Duchnowski wrote a couple of stories about it in 2014 which eventually led to the proposal of a contest to find a rhyme for him similar to Humpty’s. I couldn’t find the results. One newspaper speculated that Harry is less well-known because he never fell off a wall.
In the online news website, Isthmus, a staff writer named David Medaris wrote a few paragraphs about Harry in 2008, which we somehow missed back when we were first learning about Madison. Medaris comments that this kind of irreverent art is common in Europe and is a marker for cities where “…people who have a sense of humor live with gusto.” He identifies Brent George as the artist but never mentions David James Schaefer.
There has been a lot of speculation about deep political and
scientific meanings for Humpty Dumpty, but it’s likely just a nursery rhyme and
riddle.
On the other hand, there’s very little written about Harry
Dumpty. If anyone knows the results of the Dekalb, Illinois poetry contest
mentioned above, please let me know.
Sometimes I think about my father, who died about 17 years ago. He was known in his neighborhood as “Johnny Hots.” He moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin when he was in high school. He enlisted in the Navy when he was in the 11th grade and served his country during World War II.
Jim Amos
John Amos
His obituary also says he was happiest when he kept busy. After he retired he helped with maintenance of the apartment building where he lived during his last years. He liked working crossword puzzles. He also had a pretty good sense of humor and liked to laugh.
I like working crosswords. I like to clown around and laugh. And I like to keep busy. I was never in the military although I tried to enlist. That didn’t work out.
He talked about the great time he had in Milwaukee. He said it was the best time of his life. My wife and I vacationed there a few years ago. It was fun. One of the residents interviewed for a C-L Psychiatry fellowship at Medical College of Wisconsin recently. She was wondering about places to site-see so I made a little video about it for her.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
He was a talented carpenter and built our kitchen cabinets. I remember struggling a little in Shop Class to make a wooden dice pencil holder. Mr. Rodomeyer, a man built like a bull, called my class the biggest bunch of characters he’d ever seen.
That was back in the days when the boys went to Shop Class and the girls went to Home Economics (Home Ec). Maybe that’s one of the reasons I don’t do so well in the kitchen. Anyway, that’s what I blame it on.
However, my father was pretty handy in the kitchen and could cook up a tasty barbecued anything.
He walked everywhere and he walked more slowly as he got older. I have always walked pretty fast. I think I picked up that habit when I was a young man working for land surveyors. When I walk around the hospital and up and down the stairs, the trainees tend to lag behind me.
I didn’t see much of my father while I was growing up. We have a few things in common. I am thankful for our differences.
I’m off service for a while, which means I have more time for birds. Right now, my wife and I are trying not to spook the cardinals. It looks like they’ve finished the nest and we’re waiting for the eggs.
This will be the first time we’ve seen cardinals nesting in our yard. It’s a little strange, because the cardinals chose the same evergreen tree as the robins did last year.
The robins built a pretty sturdy nest but the cardinals just threw one together. It looks pretty flimsy.
A couple of years ago, chipping sparrows raised chicks in one of our front yard evergreen trees. They were cute.
But the baby robins looked like little dinosaurs.
I imagine the new cardinals will look pretty scruffy.
Long day on the C-L Psychiatry service. I logged 2.8 miles and 33 floors on my step counter. I barely had time to eat lunch. This post is going to be short.
We were treated to outstanding presentations on fascinating topics over the last couple of days and they were given by top-notch medical students. One of them summarized the literature on mental illness in the population of incarcerated women. The other was a great overview of catatonia.
The students put a lot of work into them. The data search was obviously thorough and their presentations were polished. They had very well organized PowerPoint slides.
They were among the best examples of Clinical Problems in Consultation Psychiatry (CPCP) learning sessions in recent memory. The CPCPs were a frequent feature in my previous blog, The Practical C-L Psychiatrist.
The CPCP was developed by a former teacher of mine, William R. Yates, MD. He was the head of the C-L Psychiatry service years ago before moving on to the University of Oklahoma in Tulsa.
He’s a part time research psychiatrist for the assessment team at the Laureate Institute for Brain Research. They do research diagnostic assessments for a variety of imaging, genetic and biomarkers studies in mood, anxiety and other brain disorders.
The CPCP format is:
A weekly case conference held Wednesdays from 8:00 a.m. to
approximately 8:45 a.m. Each week, a case is selected from the Daily Review
Rounds Records to illustrate a clinical problem for the next week’s
meeting. The residents are assigned dates when they rotate. The medical
students are welcome and even encouraged to participate as well.
This is a practical way to approach teaching the
Practice-Based Learning & Improvement Core Competency. This helps develop
the habit of reflecting on and analyzing one’s practice performance; locating
and applying scientific evidence to the care of patients; critically
appraising the medical literature; using the computer to support learning and
patient care; facilitating the education of other health care professionals.
This is applying principles of evidence-based medicine (EBM) to clinical
practice.
Evidence-based
medicine is a systematic approach to use up to date information in the
practice of medicine
Skills
are needed to integrate the available evidence with clinical experience
and patient concerns
Application
and evaluation of EBM skills will provide a frame-work for life-long
learning.
Self-evaluation is vital to the successful practice of EBM:
Am
I asking answerable clinical questions?
Am
I searching the literature?
Am
I becoming more efficient in my searches?
Am
I integrating my critical appraisals into my practice?
The assigned resident is responsible for searching the
literature and selecting one or two teaching papers for the conference.
Presentations will begin with a review of the case, followed by a summary of
the references with subsequent round table discussion.
Circulate copies of 2-4 pertinent articles to team members
including psychiatric nurses and faculty. A copy machine is available in the
departmental administration office. Consult staff can also assist with
obtaining copies.
Presentations begin with a 5-minute summary of the case with discussion of both psychiatric and medical aspects of evaluation and management. The remaining time is spent summarizing the pertinent data in the articles. Residents and medical students are encouraged to use the case conference material as preparation for submitting a case report or letter to the editor.
Bill and a former chief resident of psychiatry, Dr. Terri Gerdes, published a paper about the CPCP (then called problem-based learning in consultation psychiatry) in 1996:
Yates, W. R. and T. T. Gerdes (1996).
“Problem-based learning in consultation psychiatry.” Gen Hosp
Psychiatry 18(3): 139-144.
Abstract: Problem-based learning (PBL) is a method of instruction gaining increased attention and implementation in medical education. In PBL there is increased emphasis on the development of problem-solving skills, small group dynamics, and self-directed methods of education. A weekly PBL conference was started by a university consultation psychiatry team. One active consultation service problem was identified each week for study. Multiple computerized and library resources provided access to additional information for problem solving. After 1 year of the PBL conference, an evaluation was performed to determine the effectiveness of this approach. We reviewed the content of problems identified, and conducted a survey of conference participants. The most common types of problem categories identified for the conference were pharmacology of psychiatric and medical drugs (28%), mental status effects of medical illnesses (28%), consultation psychiatry process issues (20%), and diagnostic issues (13%). Computerized literature searches provided significant assistance for some problems and less for other problems. The PBL conference was ranked the highest of all the psychiatry resident educational formats. PBL appears to be a successful method for assisting in patient management and in resident and medical student psychiatry education.
The year that was published was the first year of my appointment to the Clinical Track faculty in the department of Psychiatry at The University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics. I learned a lot from Bill.
And I’m confident that the students who presented their own CPCPs this week will teach many other trainees in their careers.
The cardinal nest is pretty much done—no eggs yet, though. At least we think it’s a cardinal nest. It looks typical according to experts; loosely woven of twigs, leaves, stucco, and ponderosa pine accents. They’re pretty fussy about us snooping around the backyard evergreen tree they chose to build a home in.
Any day now, we’re hoping to see a clutch of eggs, bluish
white with brown markings. Or maybe pale green with brown-lilac spots. Or
possibly whitish to pale bluish or greenish white, marked with brown, purple,
and gray. Or Hawkeye black and gold. It all depends on which guidebook you read,
I guess.
I’m gradually getting back into bird watching and spending
less time with my head at the hospital (“Earth to Jim!”). Doctors learn to
spend all their time either on the wards or in the clinic. It reminds me of a
couple of scenes from Men in Black (MIB) II.
As Agent J walks into the MIB complex at Battery Park, the
elevator dude says “Don’t you ever go home? Agent J says “Nope.”
Later he drops into Zed’s office and asks, “What you got for
me?”
Zed replies, “Look. See those guys in black suits? They work
here. We got it covered.”
That’s how physicians can get after years of acculturation
into the driven doctor model. Often enough, I take most of the work away from
the trainees, when they’re not looking. And I take my work home—that’s called
pajama time.
Hey, those dudes work here too. I have a tendency to see
myself as almost indispensable, which makes it hard to envision retirement at
times.
I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not the only doc who can do my job. The next generation of doctors are eager and ready. They deserve a chance. But I sometimes catch myself telling old war stories about how hard it was when I was a resident or a junior attending.
“I remember when I had to walk 40 miles to work in the driving
blizzard alternating with blazing heat (it’s Iowa) to get to my 6 x10 foot
office in the basement to stoke the fire in the pot-bellied stove for coffee
and grits at 4:00 in the morning, before the damn birds even get up, milk a few
dozen cows in the atrium, chase the pigs out of the operating rooms and then go
see about a hundred or so consultations before 7:00 in the morning I tell you, then
write notes until midnight, be on call until 3:30 the next morning and do it
all over again. What do you guys know about work?”
I may exaggerate a little bit. Usually there weren’t that
many cows in the atrium.
It can be difficult to unwind from the physician’s
treadmill. But as time goes on, I look forward to seeing the birds build nests,
to see the brand-new eggs, the ugly chicks who look like little dinosaurs until
the feathers grow out. I can pay more attention to the world outside the
hospital, where the new doctors are stoking the fire.
I’m a big fan of the Men in Black movies. I’m not going to
tell you how many times I’ve watched them on TV (78 million and if that number
reminds you of a scene from Men in Black, you’re just as much a fan as I am, if
not worse). One of my favorite lines is when Zed says to Edwards, “Edwards.
Let’s put it on.” Edwards asks, “Put what on?” And Zed says, “The last suit
you’ll ever wear.”
Today, I asked my secretary to order some new white coats for me. I went down to the Uniform Shop and checked on it. All they need is the requisition and they’ll get it.
Since I’m retiring after this year, these are the last white coats I’ll ever wear. There’s no Zed to tell me that. The Uniform Shop staff person won’t know it when the coats arrive—unless I tell her, of course.
I found a very long, involved discussion on the web about the meaning of Zed’s “last suit you’ll ever wear” statement. All I got out of it was that some people take that movie way too seriously.
But for me the last white coat I’ll ever wear means exactly that. I’m going to wear the coat until I retire (in about 14 months according to the countdown)—and then I’m never going to wear white coats again.
I can almost hear certain persons snickering in the background. I suspect there may be a few bets about this retirement thing being another temporary leave-taking, like the times I left for private practice and came back, sort of like bringing Agent K back after neuralyzing him at his request. He really did retire—temporarily.
But nobody is going to neuralyze me. I’ll keep a lot of
memories about my time as a Consultation-liaison (C-L) Psychiatrist, even
though some of them are sort of like Agent K’s memories of being swallowed by a
giant interstellar cockroach.
However, that reminds me of a few thoughts I have about institutional memory. I’ve mentioned my concerns about being practically the only C-L Psychiatrist in a pretty big hospital and retiring. I’m a geezer, but I know a lot about the ins and outs and moving parts and what it means to be a one-man hit-and-run fireman psychiatric consultant in a large academic medical center.
Institutional memory…
Institutional memory has been defined as “the collective
knowledge and learned experiences of a group. As turnover occurs among group
members, these concepts must be transitioned. Knowledge management tools aim to
capture and preserve these memories.”
Institutional memory can also be characterized briefly as:
Accumulated knowledge, skills, “this is the way we do things”
Some of it gets hardened into policies and procedures
Much of it “…resides in the heads, hands, and hearts of individual managers and functional experts.”- “How to Preserve Institutional Knowledge” by Ron Ashkenas, Harvard Business Review, 2013
Too much of anything for too long can be bad, including institutional memory
The bullet point that Ron Ashkenas makes above is relevant
to employers of baby boomers like me who know informal procedures, and have the
skills (and they chose us so they recognized the skills, so don’t be calling us
sport, feisty, hon, sweetie, or anything like that) and knowledge that’s in our
heads but may not be stored anywhere else.
That makes the baby boomer retirement phenomenon a real challenge. About 10,000 boomers will reach the age of 65 every day for the next 15 years. And most of us aren’t kidding around. There’s no way to just deneuralyze us to make us come back. You can’t make it happ’n Cap’n.
There are ways to package institutional memory into handy
things like mentoring partnerships, knowledge wikis, snappy videos (just shoot
the damn thing!) and other media that are easily accessible and geared for the
adult learner.
You can’t beat the Internet Archives for history. You can borrow and read the first edition of the Massachusetts General Hospital Handbook of general hospital psychiatry published in 1978, just like checking it out from a public library. Read the chapter, “Beginnings: liaison psychiatry in a general hospital.” You can learn from Dr. Thomas P. Hackett about the difference between a consultation service and a liaison service:
digital institutional memory
“A distinction must be made between a consultation service
and a consultation liaison service. A
consultation service is a rescue squad.
It responds to requests from other services for help with the diagnosis,
treatment, or disposition of perplexing patients. At worst, consultation work is nothing more
than a brief foray into the territory of another service, usually ending with a
note written in the chart outlining a plan of action. The actual intervention is left to the
consultee. Like a volunteer firefighter,
a consultant puts out the blaze and then returns home. Like a volunteer fire brigade, a consultation
service seldom has the time or manpower to set up fire prevention programs or
to educate the citizenry about fireproofing.
A consultation service is the most common type of psychiatric-medical
interface found in departments of psychiatry around the United States today.
A liaison service requires manpower, money, and
motivation. Sufficient personnel are
necessary to allow the psychiatric consultant time to perform services other
than simply interviewing troublesome patients in the area assigned. He must be able to attend rounds, discuss
patients individually with house officers, and hold teaching sessions for
nurses. Liaison work is further distinguished from consultation activity in
that patients are seen at the discretion of the psychiatric consultant as well
as the referring physician. Because the
consultant attends social service rounds with the house officers, he is able to
spot potential psychiatric problems.”—T. P. Hackett, MD.
By the way, have you seen my YouTube Channel? I’ve been beaming me up into educational videos for residents and medical students for a while now.
Next year I’ll be
doffing the white coat for good—but I’ll be on THIS planet.
Reference:
Hackett,
T. P., MD (1978). Beginnings: liaison psychiatry in a general hospital. Massachusetts
General Hospital: Handbook of general hospital psychiatry. T. P. Hackett, MD
and N. H. Cassem, MD. St. Louis, Missouri, The C.V. Mosby Company: 1-14.
About 15 years ago, I left my position at the University of Iowa to work somewhere else. The spiral notebook with a picture of someone crossing a bridge and the fine birdhouse in the picture above were going away gifts.
There were many touching messages in the little book. Friends wished me well and reminded me to “Keep up on all the birds in your new neighborhood.” I was a birdwatcher then and I’m reaching back for that now.
One of them said, “I hope you find your new position to be everything you want it to be.”
I did not. I returned and everything I left was somehow changed. But I was the same old Jim. And later I left again–and again returned. And now the third leave-taking is approaching–retirement. I will not return. Maybe then my spirit will not be nostalgic.