Every specialty matters
Last night I cared for a patient who raised my heart-rate a bit. Of course, any emergency physician will tell you, the potentially difficult and complicated cases often come at the end of the shift, as you’re trying to clean up all of the paperwork and ‘head for the house.’ Nurse Ginger came to me and said, ‘we need a doctor in room 11.’ I snarled, snatched the paper, grumped and gruffed and marched off to see the patient who had so selfishly interrupted my planned escape. (Disclaimer: I later apologized to the very correct Ginger, who had every reason to come and get me.)
Facing me was a woman in her 60’s with a tongue the size of my nurse’s head. Well, not quite, but it was sufficient to fill her entire mouth. This, of course, can sometimes be incompatible with the passage of air into the lungs, oxygen into the bloodstream and therefore, life itself.
She was breathing well, all things considered. Of course, she couldn’t speak. The swelling had been increasing over the previous six hours. For the non-medical, she exhibited signs of a syndrome called ‘angioedema.’ In her case, hoof-beats usually being horses, the symptoms were probably caused by a drug called Lisinopril, belonging to a class of anti-hypertensive drugs called ‘angiotensin converting enzyme inhibitors.’ You can read more at the following link:
http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000846.htm
This is a condition that really gets the attention of physicians who manage airways; and especially physicians like me who have struggled with airways a few times. So, I spoke to her as calmly as possible, our nurses administered oxygen, placed an IV and put her on the heart monitor. I orderd some Decadron (a steroid), some Benadryl and some Pepcid (both different versions of antihistamines). Then I started making phone calls.
Much of emergency medicine is just that. Recognize the gravity of the situation and then sending for help. Making phone calls. Rallying the troops. Calling for reinforcements. Popping a flare. You get the picture. The thing is, she didn’t need to be intubated (have a tube placed in her airway) just yet, but she was someone who might easily take that turn and desperately need an airway placed as quickly as possible.
I called anesthesia and I called ENT. Anesthesiologists are airway experts who have very cool airway tools, like fiber-optic laryngoscopes, with which to look down the airway without stimulating it or causing more swelling. They are the kings of definitive airway management. Those of us in emergency medicine are good, too. But when a smart physician senses trouble, he lets go of his pride and calls for back-up. Or, as someone put it to me in medical school, ‘focus the glory, diffuse the blame.’
Well, my anesthesiologist friend came to see the patient, and he called our ear, nose and throat surgeon friend. You see, if worst came to worst, our nice lady might need a tracheostomy placed, and he would be the guy with the skills to do it.
Then, we called her primary care doc, who knew her very well. In the end, we all decided to leave her be, admit her to the ICU with surgical airway equipment at the bedside, and wait to see if the medicines worked. Although controversy exists about whether the medicines I ordered actually help, she started to improve a little.
When I left for home at last, she was being seen by her family doc, tucked into the ICU and was breathing nicely.
But this isn’t a lesson in angioedema. It’s about teamwork. Medicine is multi-faceted. Primary care is important and specialties are important and emergency medicine is important and nurses are critical. Anytime we discuss improving medicine, we can’t ever focus on just one aspect. Primary care physicians have unique skills and the patience of Job himself. Specialists, like anesthesiologists and surgeons, have technical abilities the rest of us lack. They also have the experience to recognize when to act; and equally important, when to pause and wait.
And emergency physicians know when to make phone calls!
So I hope that whether health-care reform happens or not, we can remember that we have excellent medicine in America because we have nurses and docs with different skills and interests, different talents and knowledge.
Without that beautiful collage of professionalism, medicine just won’t function very well.
And I won’t have anyone to call when I really need help.
Edwin







Yikes!! I’ve seen fat lips with lisinopril related edema but never a really fat tongue. I’ve had patients complain their tongue felt thick, but little swelling visible. Wow.
The sight of that patient would definitely raise up my heart rate.
I’m glad it all worked out.
First of all, I would like to thank you for this entry.
2 years ago I had to leave the workforce, with much reluctance, due to frequent spells of angioedema, sometimes as potentially life-threatening as in this case, as well as nearly full-body hives which developed into deep tissue angioedema among myriad other symptoms. I have been dealing with this for several years and although it was first suspected it might be a reaction to my ACE Inhibitors, this has been proven to not be the case. My condition worsened since and I became a “frequent flier” to my extremely rural community ER. Because of the diligence of the ER staff and their willingness to listen to me, now the patient and not the colleague, and their willingness to “let go of his pride and call for back-up” and relatively normal results on most lab tests I have been referred to Dr Mariana Castells at Brigham & Womens in Boston on suspicion of Systemic Mastocytosis/Mast Cell Activation Disorder.
I cannot express enough how appreciative we, as patients, are when physicians, of any specialty, do everything they can to get to the bottom of what ails us by utilizing EVERY tool available to them, including the telephone!
When I was a 2nd year medical student rotating in the ER in Chicago one night a patient with the above presentation , partially blue and his eyes literally bulging out of his head came crashing through the door. My attending Dr.Knight saw the patient was probably going to die in the next minute, and there was no time to get the crico tray. He grabbed my trauma shears, had me hold down the patient, opened the trachea and put in a #6 ETT. The guy walked out of the hospital in 5 days. Later when the dust settled and his partner came in to relieve him, he confessed he hadn’t done one since residency (6 years ago) and it scared the crap out of him. One of my many heroes in medicine. “Lord keep me steady in times of crisis, and let your will be done”
Thank you so much for swallowing your pride and being ready for whatever may have happened with this patient. As a patient myself I always appreciate doctors who realize that no one can possibly know everything. Know your resources and don’t reinvent the wheel – as a geek I’ve learned that well. Anyone in the sciences has to rely on others’ expertise and research. After all, we’re all dumb…just about different things.
I’ve been thinking about this alot… and I agree with you to some degree.
frokostordning