No, I am not "The Patient"

There's a good reflection piece posted (free) today on-line at JAMA: “The Patient” by Katie Thure. It starts:

Mrs T was a 58-year-old female admitted to the intensive care unit (ICU) for respiratory distress secondary to pneumonia. On her 10th day of hospitalization, she developed septic shock. Despite escalations in care, it became clear Mrs T would not survive. After a goals-of-care conversation with her husband, her 2 adult children, living outside of the state, were called to come to say their goodbyes. With both children at bedside, a woman wearing scrubs and a long white coat walked into the room and announced, “I’m Dr A, an ICU resident.” She explained the medical data and summarized to the family that “the patient has no chance of survival.” Although this statement was objectively correct, it failed to acknowledge that “the patient” was also a community advocate for equitable education, a wife of 40 years, a lover of mischief, and my mom. . . .

I was not surprised to hear about her poor prognosis. But I was surprised at Dr A’s choice to call my mom the patient. Is this how everyone is told their best friend was going to die? How could my mom be just the patient if her fingernails were still painted with Christmas trees and snowflakes?

There's more to savor and learn from this short essay. It's about the dehumanizing effect of the language of medical encounters. "Dr. Jones" becomes simply "the resident," and Dr. Smith is "the attending." "Mrs. Thure" is stripped of personhood and is "the patient." As the author writes: "When we choose not to use someone’s name, we are choosing to reduce them. We are indirectly saying, 'You are no more than the one-word descriptor I have given you.' The patient is not a human but just a pathology needing to be addressed." 

Ms. Thure (Class of 2024 in UCLA's medical school) doesn't oversimplify: 

Years later as a medical student, I was taught to think about patients both holistically and also to reduce them to a one-liner. There is clinical significance to having an accurate, concise depiction of a patient’s history and current medical needs. There is also equal clinical significance to remembering the person behind the one-liner.

What defines the distance between these two descriptions? Empathy. Or maybe simply circumstances:

Over the years, I have spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out how my mom became the patient. Maybe Dr A was at the end of a long and difficult shift, maybe that was not the first bad news she had delivered that evening, maybe she was never trained to be empathetic, maybe it is just the culture of medicine. Or maybe there was no reason at all.

Tomorrow is the last meeting of this semester's edition of "Law, Literature & Medicine." It's a seminar for 4th-year med students (UT-Southwestern) and 3rd-year law students (SMU/Dedman) that I have taught for decades, since 2017 with my valued friend and co-teacher, Dr. Reeni Abraham. I will propose that we email the class a PDF of Ms. Thure's essay and discuss whether it should be included in the first day's reading assignment when we offer the course again in 2025. The course is about the language we professionals use, identity (our patients' and clients' and our own), narratives, and empathy. And it's all here in this wonderful little essay.

What Is a Hospital to Do When a Patient Refuses a Discharge?

Here's the scenario: A patient is admitted to the hospital for treatment. Treatment goes well, and the patient can safely be discharged to home. But the patient refuses to leave the hospital. If the patient lacks decision-making ability, the surrogate decision-maker may be refusing on the patient's behalf. Either way, a patient who no longer needs hospital-level care continues to consume hospital resources -- a bed, nursing time and attention, housekeeping, dietary, etc. -- without a discernible medical advantage.

There are lots of ways to respond to the refusal to leave, mostly involving a sensitive exploration of the social, familial, financial, emotional or other reasons for the refusal. Sometimes it is possible to make arrangements that can address the patient's (or surrogate's) concerns.

As reported in the Los Angeles Times (and reprinted by KFF News (Nov. 15)), San Francisco-based Dignity Health, a tax-exempt organization Catholic hospital system with $9.5 billion in revenue, is trying another approach: sue the patients for trespass. In three cases, Dignity Health has invoked a California law intended to prevent anti-abortion demonstrators from obstructing entry to healthcare facilities, accusing the patients of "commercial blockage" for "unreasonably and unlawfully" refusing to be discharged once they were deemed medically and legally eligible. Dignity claims the actions hindered its ability to care for other patients during COVID-19 surges. 

Unsurprisingly, the patients claim a right to be discharged to a facility that offered appropriate care and that they could afford, not simply sent home without the ability to take care of themselves. As described by California Disability Rights, state and federal law (Medicare's Conditions of Participation) provide significant protections against hospital discharges that aren't safe, so the outcome in these cases is likely to turn on very fact-specific considerations.

One of the cases is scheduled to go to trial on November 15. More later . . . .

Physician Discipline: Covid Denier's License Suspended, but Not For Lying

Sherri Tenpenny, D.O., testified before the Ohio legislature that the Covid vaccine "magnetizes" recipients and interfaces with 5G cellphone towers. Soon after, her medical license came up for renewal and the Ohio Medical Board renewed it, no muss, no fuss, despite the good doctor having been named as "one of the 12 most prolific spreaders of COVID-19 misinformation on social media, according to research from the Center for Countering Digital Hate." (Becker's Hospital Review, Sept. 20, 2021).

At the time of the renewal, the Board said that renewal was an automatic process and did not foreclose a future investigation. After receiving approximately 350 complaints, the Board did start an investigation. Dr. Tenpenny, however, unwisely blew off the Board's discovery requests and a subpoena to testify, and for that she got her license suspended until she starts to cooperate with the Board's investigation. (Becker's Hospital Review,  Aug. 9, 2023).

This case offers two teaching points: (1) many licensing boards are slow to react to quackery, and (2) turning your back on a board’s investigation never pays off  

Meanwhile, Dr. Tenpenny's anti-vaccine and conspiracy-spewing firm rakes in an estimated $4.04 million in annual sales. There's gold in them thar lies!

Maybe people of a certain age should stay off social media altogether

The president of Thomas Jefferson University and dean ad interim of TJU's medical school, stepped down this past week, three months after (in the words of a Philadelphia Inquirer article) "liking controversial tweets about COVID-19 vaccines and gender reassignment surgery for children on his official presidential Twitter account." 

The tweets are quoted in the Inquirer article and are straight out of the MAGA playbook. Mark Tykocinski, 70, claimed he used the "like" function to bookmark tweets that he wanted to revisit and research. 

I don't know about that.

On every Twitter message, there's a heart icon to "like" and a flag memo to "bookmark." They are side-by-side; it's hard to see one and not also see the other, though understanding their differences requires an internet search. One crucial difference is that "likes" are public and "bookmarks" remain private. There are lots of sources for this information, including Twitter itself. 

This sounds easy, but for someone old enough to be enrolled in Medicare, it might still be confusing, just as most social media platforms are to me. I am an incredible doofus when it comes to Twitter and Facebook and absolutely hopeless trying to navigate Instagram. TikTok frightens me, so I don't even contemplate going there. In my defense, I will turn 74 in a little over a month. "Influencers" in my world suggest ways to mix a better martini. When it comes to Barbenheimer, I am more comfortable on the "heimer" part of that meme. (It it a "meme"? What, exactly, is a meme? Does something have to move or make noise to be a meme, or can a word or phrase be a meme?)

The bottom line for Tykocinski is that he either agreed with the tweets, which is baffling for a competent molecular immunologist, or he is reckless in his untutored approach to Twitter. There is a reason TJU and every other university and college has professionals who manage institutional social media.

The lesson is an important one for all of us in the health care field, from pre-med college students to med students to residents to doctors and allied health professionals. Be very sparing and very careful in what you post. "Unprofessional conduct" is a subjective judgment, and the beholder whose eyes matter is not, at the end of the day, the person who posts.