Showing posts with label desensitization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label desensitization. Show all posts

Monday, July 13, 2015

OB/GYN Ethics 101

Let's be practical: what can a Catholic medical student on his OB/GYN rotation do? What about a Catholic resident working in OB/GYN settings (including family and medicine residents)?

The Do's


Be confident. You have the truth, which is not only a set of beliefs, but a Person who is pleased that you want to do the right thing, and will protect you.

Answer test questions as if you toed the party line on contraception, sterilization, and abortion. We can "prescribe" on paper.

Prepare an elevator speech so that whenever you must state your choices, you can do it smoothly and briefly.

(For residents) Tell your program director.

(For medical students) Do not tell any higher-ups unless you know they will be receptive. Tell clinic attendings at the beginning of any day (the evening before if possible) when there is an objectionable procedure scheduled; tell surgical attendings before the first sterilization you do with them.

Be an awesome person and a hard worker. We must "be perfect," to challenge those who think we're bizarre.

Find as much in common as possible. For instance, be loud proponents of "teens shouldn't get pregnant" and "STDs are terrible," and "no, condoms aren't enough!"

Counsel patients on family planning. To counsel is to present the dosing, routes, side effects, and mechanisms of action of available options. Counsel patients as frequently as possible, because only our counseling is truly presenting the whole truth about all three mechanisms of action (MOAs) of hormonal contraceptives (including thinning the endometrium which may lead to post-fertilization pregnancy loss, per the package inserts) and the existence and benefits of NFP or fertility awareness.

Happily volunteer to take out IUDs and nexplanons.

(For medical students and interns) You may observe one or two insertions of IUDs, nexplanons and Essure. Your participation is remote, it improves your counseling (i.e. you won't remember to mention ibuprofen premedication before IUD insertion if you don't realize quite how much cramping can occur), and you can pray for the patient and physician more vehemently. Students, it's best to speak with your preceptor beforehand, as soon as you see an IUD/nexplanon/Essure insertion on the schedule. If somehow that doesn't happen and you're offered the chance to do the procedure, just say, "I'm not comfortable." (Residents, your PD should already know.) But (students) if they press you (and residents, if this attending didn't get the memo), say confidently: "Thanks for the chance! But I'm choosing not to prescribe contraceptives."

You can participate in endometrial ablations. These are usually done for gynecological pathology (e.g. excessive menstruation) and are not a form of sterilization; however, they do have a sterilizing effect. If everyone's intentions are correct, the principle of double effect at work. Because we cannot see into other souls, we can pray for the best and operate as if the principle applies. (If the patient makes it clear that she wants the sterilizing effect, it's your duty to tell her that this procedure does not sterilize and you cannot guarantee that.)

You can participate in hysterectomies. Everything that applies to ablations applies also to it. Our bodily integrity is important, but this procedure is sometimes necessary for patients who fail conservative management (i.e. ibuprofen, lysteda, napro).

You can scrub into C-sections during which they plan to do a tubal ligation (BTL). You can assist with the section, but do not do anything during the BTL. To protect yourself from acting during the BTL, speak with your attending or chief resident (whoever the highest person in the room will be) beforehand.

(For medical students) Some attendings will not let you scrub because you're refusing to participate in the BTL. This is unjust, but take it gracefully and ask if you can observe. If they say no, go peacefully back to the floor or L&D.

(For residents and sub-interns) You can scrub into a BTL to practice laparoscopic access techniques. Make it clear to your attending that you will not be participating in the ligation, but are grateful for the opportunity to learn from their experience in entering and closing the abdomen safely.

You can participate in dilation and curretage (D&C) when done for missed abortion (miscarriage). There is no moral quandary here, if fetal death has been verified by lost heart tones, absent cardiac motion, negative hCG, obvious ultrasound findings (e.g. separation suggesting the decay of remains), or obvious history (e.g. three days of heavy bleeding with fetal parts). Always say to the mother and father of the child, "I'm sorry for your loss." Not only is this what they feel, but it builds up the identity of the unborn child as a person.

Obviously, you can participate in D&C for non-obstetric indications or retained placenta.

(Not usually for students) You can induce labor for missed abortion. If the loss is verified as above, console the patient and father and help with cervical ripening and augmentation.

Counsel on elective abortion (EAB). You must know at what gestational age different procedures (RU486 (mifepristone), D&C, and dilation and extraction (D&E)) can be done. You must be able to describe these techniques to women gently but without euphemism. You must also know the rates of post-traumatic stress symptoms and PTSD among abortion victims, the rates of live birth following abortions, and (if you're a gunner) laws in your state about waiting period, parental notification/consent, ultrasound, and upper gestational age limit.

Care for EAB patients before and after their abortions. This includes preop and postop care in the hospital, and follow-up visits in clinic. Ask about how the patient is handling the loss. Be ready to offer local post-abortive healing information (i.e. carry the cards with you in your pocket), but don't push it.

You can participate in training activities for D&C and LARC/Essure insertions. A D&C is a legitimate operation for indications like excessive bleeding and missed abortion, and scooping out a papaya to learn how to do it is not a big deal. Mirena can help nonsexually active patients who fail other pharmacological therapies. Pick your battles and don't fuss about this. Use it as a chance to observe to your peers sitting next to you about how weird it is that you'd do a D&C when there's still a heartbeat, or how there's gotta be some way to plan pregnancy without sticking a 16 gauge needle in someone's arm (nexplanon).

Counsel on perinatal hospice. Perinatal hospice should be offered to any patient with a fetal anomaly that is "incompatible with life." This is a period of parenting the unborn child and mourning the loss of the baby the parents hoped for. It also involves services like Now I Lay me Down to Sleep (a no-charge project). Students and residents have a particular power in suggesting perinatal hospice (which is uncommon at most centers that offer termination for lethal anomalies) because we go in before the attending and can make suggestions that the attending would not.

(For residents) You can consent patients for BTLs and IUD/nexplanon insertions. To consent (like to counsel) is to offer a full picture of risks, benefits, and alternatives. We are the ideal people to consent for BTLs, nexplanon insertions, and IUD insertions, because we can stress that these things affect something valuable (fertility and integrity of lovemaking), and we can emphasize the permanence of sterilizations, and the fact that many regret their procedures. If you help a patient opt into a less permanent form of birth control, you've helped! It's painful to consent and counsel when people make the wrong decision. But we can only offer the truth (the whole truth), and allow our patients and our superiors to make their own decisions.

Wikimedia. The contributor writes:
"This is an image of my child, he died
and this is how I remember him."
You may visit and learn in IVF clinics. REIs are very intelligent and know a lot about physiology. If you are taken on a tour and see freezers and incubators, use it as an opportunity to pray for the little souls trapped there, and the adults who are trapped in confusion.

Pray every day. 30 minutes of mental prayer keeps you moving towards sanctity. (St. Theresa said that if we meditate, we will either become saints or stop meditating.) If I'm an OB intern and I can do it, so can you.

Talk it out with a friend. If the attendings are making you feel unwelcome, if you're stressed, if the culture is asphyxiating...get it off your chest! Get coffee with a friend and vent! If you don't have anyone sympathetic, email me. (That address is permanent, so even if you're reading this ten years after I wrote the post, I'll get it.)

Contact Alliance Defending Freedom if you're truly discriminated against. 

Be patient with yourself. You can't solve all the patients' problems or correct all your own inabilities all at once! Christ has the power to make up for your defects. Ask Him to do so, go to confession, and move forward in peace.

The Don'ts


Don't make assumptions about sinners' intentions. (This includes patients, peers, and attendings.)

Don't proselytize. Be attractive as a good student/resident, then be unafraid when people ask about NFP or the Catholic Church's ideas on contraception.

Do not advise the use of any hormonal contraceptive (e.g. mirena) in sexually active patients. Period. This is because of their post-fertilization effects.

Do not promote barrier contraceptive use as a good in itself. As Pope Emeritus Benedict wrote, condom use can be a step towards chastity, but always hold up abstinence as an ideal for the unmarried and NFP as an ideal for the married.

(For medical students) Try not attend more than two IUD insertions, more than two nexplanon insertions, and more than two essure insertions. Frame it as sharing with the other med students, or go find something helpful to do on the floor. Make something up if you can't find anything legitimate to do ("I have to go bring this down to the radiology library," "I have to fax this paperwork"), because it's important to not overexpose yourself. You don't want to dispose yourself to think these things are okay.

Do not participate in egg harvests, male masturbation, intrauterine inseminations (IUIs) and other gamete transfers, or in-vitro fertilization. Medical students should not put themselves in this situation: do not do an REI rotation at a facility that does IVF. Residents: if you must observe, make it clear to the attending that you cannot participate, even by holding the transducer.

(For residents) Do not induce labor for inevitable abortion, i.e. when fetal death has not occurred (e.g. when there are still heart tones).


This is a miscarried baby, not an EAB victim.
Never be present at an elective abortion (EAB). This is not because your participation is any different from your participation in BTLs, essures, and LARC insertions. It is because it is much more dangerous for you to be exposed to a sin of the gravity of an EAB. Two former abortionists have told me that the first one is repulsive, the second one isn't as bad, and the third one they make a pass with the curette. Never participate. Say, "I'm choosing not to participate in abortions (or "terminations" or whatever word your resident/attending just used)." Fake syncope if you must. I'm serious! Prefer disciplinary action and a bad reputation to observing an abortion.

(Mostly for medical students) Don't disrupt a patient-doctor relationship. This means that if your attending prescribes contraceptives to a long-time private patient, don't go into the room and talk about the carcinogenicity of hormones and the irresponsibility of using them. This will scare or frustrate the patient, make your attending unhappy with you, and cast a shadow on the truth about fertility awareness. This item not is on the list is because we want to be happy and comfortable. It's because a trainee has limited abilities to help people make good family planning choices; trying to break out of those limits will likely not help you become a physician, or a saint.

Don't dump any other task on others.

Don't be frustrated when people assume you're making these choices for stupid reasons. Most will assume you're choosing unfounded cultural/personal opinions over science. Take it gracefully, and remember that when you suffer it is because Christ is bringing you close to Him in His Passion.



I hope this post is helpful. I will edit it periodically to reflect new devices and laws as the need arises. I want to fill in some of the numbers and am working on finding the literature behind them so that I don't put unfounded figures in your mouth. Please leave a comment below if you've run into a situation I haven't covered.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Academic Medicine 101

Before I started medical school, I had no idea that "academic medicine" is the segment of medicine that researches and teaches. Some physicians see patients all day, every day while others do research (either clinical, basic, or translational) or teach (e.g. lecture, and supervise the practice of residents and the visits and notes of medical students rounding under them). Most of my experience of academic medicine is with the teaching physicians. Let me tell you about it.


First of all, I haven't had my big academic rotation yet. This is the famous "Internal Medicine" rotation (shortened in speech to "IM" for some schools, "I-Med" for us). From what I hear, that is twelve of the most intense weeks of seeing patients, giving presentations, writing notes, being humiliated, and learning the minute mechanics of fluid and medical management.

Did you catch the "being humiliated" in there?

Although I haven't had IMed (and so I feel like I can't really talk about this?), I have had one week of adult inpatient and one week of pediatric inpatient. My attending last week (pediatric) literally said that medicine is taught by shame. "That's how you remember things," he said, "by being put on the spot." I like to think that it's not shame, but responsibility that teaches us. When a person in need, in front of you, is your patient and your attending asks you "how are you going to replace his potassium in light of his serum creatinine?" and you blanch and have no clue, you're going to learn it well and know it next time.

Last week, for instance, I had one week of pediatrics. I got up early to report to the hospital an hour before the attending scheduled "rounds." I was assigned one patient each day, and went to talk with them and examine them and prepare a presentation and admission orders, including IV fluids, drugs and doses, and special nursing instructions. (All of these orders were practice; none were actually carried out except if someone else, e.g. the resident or fourth year, had the same idea/agreed with me and ordered them.)

All the people standing behind the attending (who is actually
examining the patient) are the med students, etc. A nurse happens
to be adjusting the IV fluids at the same time.
"Rounds" is when the attending physician (the doctor in the leadership chair, over the third- and fourth-year medical students and residents on the "team") and the lowerlings meet to review everyone's work. Last week, there were three third-year students, one fourth-year (doing an elective in peds, his specialty choice), and a family medicine resident (doing a rotation in peds), along with a pharmacy student (?) and a recently-hired NP (rounding to get the feel of the unit, I guess) followed the attending from room to room. At each room, the lowliest person who'd seen the patient would present them. Each of the third-years saw one patient, the fourth year saw two or three, the resident saw almost all the patients, and the attending was responsible for all of them. This means that the patient I saw was seen by the fourth-year (sometimes) and the resident (frequently), so that when my presentation was over that person would add findings, challenge me, or critique my plan (instead of the attending).

When we came to my patient's room, the attending would face me and say, "go," or I would make eye contact with him and start presenting. "This is a 13-month-old white female who presents with a four-day history of vomiting," I'd rattle off. I'd then describe the history of the present illness (HPI), the pertinent positives and negatives, past medical/surgical history (including birth history for children!), currents meds and allergies, and my objective findings (vital signs, physical exam, labs, and imaging). Then, I state my assessment and plan. "This is a 13-month-old female with gastroenteritis. Plan is replace fluid losses with D5 one-half normal and attempt p.o. challenge today."

And then the education would begin. The attending critiques your presentation skills (if you're really new at this), asks for additional findings (and you better hope you have them), and corrects your plan (you feel awesome if this is all he has to say). Since I am new to this, I got lots of presentation-skills and additional-findings criticism.

Presentation skills are important because we're in medical school to learn to think in an orderly, analytical way about complex problems and not miss things. We're trained to think like a doctor by presenting and writing notes. Presenting skills are also important because communication to colleagues is made quick and safe by a universally-agreed upon format. The format in medicine is:
  • Patient ID sentence
  • Chief concern
  • HPI
  • Review of systems (ROS)
  • Past medical history (including birth history if pediatrics)
  • Past surgical history
  • Current meds
  • Family history
  • Social history
  • Allergies
  • Vital signs
  • Physical exam
  • Labs
  • Imaging
  • Assessment/Plan (A/P)
On the floor, you have to present confidently and quickly. The faster you go, the more knowledgeable you sound (although attendings aren't stupid and won't be fooled if you obviously skip a part of the presentation, a system on the ROS, or part of the physical exam) and the less chance you have of being interrupted. You really want to be able to finish that presentation and get that A/P critique, because that's the gold that makes you a better doctor. That's also the material that attendings want to talk about (not fussy details about presentations), so you make them happier while also looking good. Best of both worlds!

If your attending asks for additional findings, you are expected to produce them with ease. It looks sort of silly to shuffle through your papers, although that's better than having to say "I don't know" or "I didn't ask." We are supposed to know everything about our patients. (Was there green in the vomit? How far did it fly? What was her serum chloride on Monday? Did we get the results of the 99-technetium scan?) Not knowing a historical detail is not very excusable (it's a rookie mistake, only one level above the presentation skills problems); not knowing a lab result is only slightly less excusable. And one is looked upon as not up to snuff if you miss out on a social issue (e.g. illiteracy, bad home situation, poverty, mental illness, etc).

And A/P criticism, while desired, comes in very different flavors. "I think you forgot a decimal point on her IV fluids" is a lot better than "Now, if you give this potassium, you'll probably put this guy into acute kidney failure. You want that on your hands?" But even so, this is the best tier of criticism, and one hopes to reach it during every presentation.

One problem in this approach is stressed or nervous med students, or those who are shy or have thin skins or fragile self esteem, can get hurt. One girl last week cried! I have been lucky, since TAC and high school accustomed me to faking it till I make it (in terms of confidence, not A/Ps). I also have a good memory for medical knowledge. But I don't like that some med students have to learn by shame and embarrassment. I wish we could all take on responsibilities without being toughened by humiliation. Stay tuned for more about academic medicine in the spring, when I go "on the wards" for twelve weeks of I-Med.

Friday, September 13, 2013

My Brush with Euthanasia: Forget Not Love

This post conforms to the blog rules.Euthanasia is a terrible thing. I had a brush with it about a month ago while on a geriatric ward. This might surprise and scare you. Just to clarify, this actually happened. I am exaggerating nothing.

I was reviewing an older patient's chart at the nursing station before rounds. This person was on dozens of medications. The home medication list was three pages long. Everything was carefully listed by doses, times, and routes (oral, otic, ophthalmic, topical, nasal...), but the sheer volume was overwhelming. On top of the drugs for medical and mental problems, there were various  prescriptions and OTC remedies to cover side effects of the first drugs.

(If polypharmacy is new to you, then let me explain how these lists grow. A man of 64 on no medicines has some chest pain and goes to his doctor. He leaves with instructions to take a baby aspirin every day. And, because his blood pressure was high, he also leaves with a prescription for a water pill and a blood pressure medicine.

(Fast forward four years. Despite his daily three drugs, the man ends up in the hospital with a heart attack. He leaves with a stent, an antiplatelet agent, a pill for cholesterol, and an ACE inhibitor.

(Fast forward another eight years. Our man seems to be getting lost around the house and can't balance the checkbook very well any more. He's put on two drugs for dementia. Thyroid replacement is added because a thyroid test was high. His wife added a multivitamin, CoQ10, and glucosamine to keep him healthy after that fall he had last Christmas, and he also has nitroglycerin on hand, for that chest pain that started all this. He's now up to a dozen drugs, not counting any OTC painkillers, eye drops, or occasional antibiotics.)

Back to my story: I looked at the three page list of medicines in my hand, aghast. How burdensome this regimen had become for the patient and caretakers! What was this person's quality of life like, with so much intervention? This all seemed like artifice to replace the functions of a failing body. It seemed like torture to prolong a life. And for what?

I looked up from the page out to the patients beyond the nursing station counter. Half of the patients on this ward seemed over-medicated to me. They sat in their wheelchairs unaware of their surroundings. Other professionals I had learned from, including very compassionate hospice nurses, liberally took patients off medicines toward the end of life. I liked this palliative, simplifying approach. Too much medicine is a cloying thing, a clinging to numbers or days. I thought to myself, "why not just take this patient off everything and let her go peacefully?" No more surprise bruises from aspirin, no more dizziness from the blood pressure pills. No more bother with all these pills and suppositories and drops.

But today I looked at her three page list, I saw one problem with the remove-the-medicines approach. Two of this patient's medications were high-potency antipsychotics in high doses. And the rest of the regimen was like a teetering game of Jenga: remove one thing, no matter how extraneous, and the rest collapses. I groaned inwardly. We could not let this person off her medicines...it would not be peaceful or safe, and it would not improve her quality of life. If medication withdrawal couldn't be done, what could? How could this patient and her caregivers be relieved of all this?

"What if," I thought, "What if we just gave a little too much of something?"

Immediately I was alarmed. Where did that thought come from? Did I just suggest to myself that I should euthanize a person? I had. I was thinking about giving something (e.g. a benzodiazepine) to let her just slip away. I was horrified at the thought I had just produced.

How did I get to that point? I was thinking about burdens and quality of life! How did I go so far astray?

Looking back, I realized that in the few days I'd worked on that ward, I had taken on the attitude of the attendants there. They shouted at the patients from their chairs in the nurse's station and loudly talked and laughed about them like children or animals. Giving medications in such big and complex regimens was a chore. They didn't love. And although I detested this and really couldn't wait to be off that ward, it rubbed off on me! Writing so many orders--what a chore! Working on this ward--what a burden! So, as I was looking at that medication list, I was not loving the person, even though I was pitying them.

And as soon as I forgot about love, I forgot about the meaning of life, the dignity of persons, the mystery of each soul's holy journey, and the importance of suffering in salvation. Who knows whether that person on three pages of medication was becoming a great saint or mystic? Beneath the shroud of dementia and crippled limbs, under the veil of an incontinent, flailing old woman, perhaps God was adorning an exquisite saint. Perhaps in heaven her beauty and nobility will be breathtaking. And moreover, what if her suffering was saving my soul? Yours? Our country, our world? How could I dare to know? (Job 38 comes to mind.) Certainly, simplifying her regimen with palliation in mind isn't a bad idea, but I only safely stay in that mindset when I remember love.

So forget not love. It's a deadly mistake.

Friday, August 24, 2012

I have changed

Last semester, my class learned the physical exam, head to toe. We practiced everything on each other, except what we euphemistically call "the male and female exams." Practicing these were left until the beginning of this semester, when paid laypeople ("standardized patients") help us to learn proper technique.

Surprisingly, this was easy for me. I was surprised because I am a private person, and I take a long time to adjust to changes in my role. The female exam was not a problem because the summer prepared me very gradually; I expected the male exam to give me trouble, but I simply introduced myself to the patient, examined him, thanked him, and it was over.

My desensitization meter has, apparently, skyrocketed since gross anatomy last year. (In fact, since high school, when I did not used to look at the reproductive diagrams in my biology textbook.) Today, I feel like I can do or ask almost anything I need to to help a patient. 

I wonder how much more healthy desensitization I will undergo.

Recently, we had a professionalism class and shared professional and unprofessional behavior we've experienced while shadowing, working with, or being a patient to physicians. There were a lot of stories about ER physicians that became so desensitized that they turned into rude, mean, and irresponsible doctors.

The friend sitting next to me, whose father is an ER PA, began to whisper to me over the voices of the storytellers. "These people [our classmates] don't understand. ER physicians are exhausted by the worst of humanity over and over again. It's like med school," she went on, and asked me whether I thought I could explain to pre-meds what it's like to go through med school. "No," she said, answering herself. "It's like the army; they put you through something kinda awful, to prepare you for something awful. And you change. ER physicians change, it's the only way they can cope." She was growing defensive, but not losing her calm. "Do you think you could maintain any purity if you were constantly stressed out to the maximum of your capacity like that?"

I listened and made no answer. I know that too much stress and too much desensitization makes for ugly behavior. Medicine, as it is taught and practiced by some, changes the loving into the callous and the sensitive into the abusive. 

But it need not be so, or at least I hope not. I hope that medicine can be practiced by a physician who lives in the peace of Christ's heart; I hope that it can be practiced by people comfortable with intimate subjects, but who still perceive the dignity of others; I hope that it can be practiced as an act of self-donation.

If not, I hope I can find another career.