This was my most recent column in the Daily Yonder. Unfortunately, the Yonder website is down or I’d give you a hot link.
It’s Spring now and all across the land things are bursting with life. Flowers are in bloom, yards are bright with new grass and the sun is high in the sky. My car was, for a while, covered in a thick, green coat of pollen. Carpenter bees are still turning my log-house into Swiss Cheese. It’s pretty out, the sky is blue and the days are warm. Blah, blah, blah. I for one don’t really like this time of year. And it’s mainly because warm weather brings me patients with all kinds of injuries; some of them pretty nasty.
In rural America, there are dangers that seldom occur to people in more populous, metropolitan areas. Ironically, though, rural folks often assume that life in the city is more dangerous. And indeed, murder rates are higher.
However, according to the CDC, deaths from unintentional injuries are 50% higher in rural than urban areas; https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2017/p0112-rural-death-risk.html. These differences in death are due to several causes; rural citizens are further from necessary health care and are closer to large lakes and rivers, use dangerous equipment and firearms. Doubtless there are many factors involved in the difference.
Of course, some of the perils of rural life are just the result of living in close proximity to nature and all her deadly charms. In Spring and Summer, we encounter creatures that bite and sting. Just last year, while mowing our lawn, we must have run over yellow-jacket nests at least half a dozen times. By the end of the summer I just let the grass grow. ‘You win!’ I screamed to the little jerks, hiding in their holes. Whether it’s scorpions, hornets, wasps, centipedes, spiders or some other tiny monster, we simply encounter such creatures more in the warm months. And their various stings and bites, while rarely fatal, can cause dangerous allergic reactions. And make your spouse want to leave the area and move to a condo.
Fortunately, deaths from allergic reactions of all sorts are rare, and around 99 deaths per year in the US. https://www.aaaai.org/global/latest-research-summaries/Current-JACI-Research/death-anaphylaxis. Still, If you or your loved-ones are afflicted with such allergies, please talk to your physician about what to keep on hand; hopefully epinephrine injectors will get cheaper. And there are some other brands besides the ‘Epi-Pen’ that should be less costly. They just hurt a lot (the Black Widow) or make ugly wounds (the Brown Recluse).
Poisonous reptiles (Copperhead, Rattlesnake, Cottonmouth and Coral snakes) are also a feature of rural life in many areas. Those who ‘ooh and aww’ in city zoo reptile houses rarely have the singular delight of encountering these wonders in their own yards or whilst walking through the woods. But these creatures, while important to the eco-system, can deliver nasty wounds and in rare cases can be lethal. They’re certainly dangerous to your finances given the cost of anti-venin to treat the bites. So be aware as you go about working and playing in places where snakes are also enjoying the summer sun, or cool evenings.
Remember also that at least in the US, many snake bites occur because people are 1) intoxicated and 2) trying to mess with the snakes. And yes, ladies, this is a peculiar affliction of men that starts with ‘hey, betcha’ I can catch him!’ Actually, I have it on good authority that snakes don’t even like the taste of drunk people and would like to be left alone, thank you very much.
Now, other dangers of rural life have to do with the necessity of power-tools. In my own life, the chain-saw, weed-trimmer and lawn-mower are absolutely essential to keeping nature from simply over-running our house. But as the dear reader knows, these are things to be treated with great respect. Please use appropriate protective gear, like safety glasses, gloves, appropriate clothes and heavy shoes. Of course, those who work on highways or farms use much bigger types of tools and heavy equipment and have to be ever watchful. This is probably more true in Spring and Summer because that’s when farms are busy, roads need to be fixed, bridges repaired, pipes laid, power-lines connected, houses constructed and all the rest. God bless all those folks who make our lives better by doing hard, dangerous work on the hottest of days.
And of course, warm weather brings assorted recreational dangers. Hiking and camping are delights, but someone always manages to fall off of a waterfall or cliff-edge, break an ankle, sustain a laceration or encounter said biting and stinging creatures.
Bicyclists and motorcyclists look forward to warm months so that they can enjoy the open, dry road. But helmets really are important as is appropriate protective clothing, reflective material and good education. I’ve seen patients who left their tanned skin on 50 yards of asphalt. Nobody enjoys that.
Lakes and rivers are warm, and filled with persons who typically want to be dragged at high speed behind a power-boat while skiing, clinging to a large inflatable item for dear life, or kneeling on a wake-board. Likewise, fishermen head to their favorite spots (either in tournaments or alone for peace and quiet) and other aquatic persons kayak, canoe and raft the rivers that draw so many to rural America for vacations. All of which is fantastic! But remember to learn to swim, always wear life-jackets and follow local laws when doing all of the above.
Obviously there’s always the danger of heat exhaustion, heat stroke, dehydration and sunburn. We all have to remember to be careful to stay hydrated and remember that beer and caffeinated sodas don’t help. Also be reasonable about sun exposure and wear sunscreen to hep protect against skin cancers.
And if the gentle reader wishes to avoid painful foreign bodies and sutures, here’s another bit of advice. Wear shoes all; all the time. Simple and to the point.
Spring and Summer are glorious in rural America. But the dangers are many; I’ve only skimmed the surface here. Please remember to be safe, think before doing, follow the laws, don’t drink and boat, drive, ride, ski, pick up snakes, work with power-tools or do just about anything else. If you’re going to drink, find a chair and sit in it. That bit of advice would keep many an ER quiet all night long. Also remember that everything I said you shouldn’t do when drinking is something you shouldn’t do while taking narcotic pain medications.
I hope everyone has a great summer, free of emergencies. And that you can still be around when that first breath of cool air dips down from Canada and a proper season comes back once more.
Just please, please, be careful out there, OK?
(If you’re interested, here’s another link to a nice discussion of the unique injuries common in rural America. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1448517/)
This is my column in the latest edition of the Daily Yonder. Enjoy and share as you see fit. Link followed by text.
I have a theory that engaged, wise grandmothers could save families a lot of money by helping avoid hospital visits. Personally, my grandmothers were very important to my well-being as a child. Not only did they feed and dote on me, they kept me healthy and safe. I remember the time I made a spear out of a sharpened stick. (OK, one of the times.) I was running with it, and as I drew back my arm to fling it across the field I must have stumbled. It ended up going through the top of my shoe and between two toes, scraping them on the way to the ground.
I limped to the big white house under the maples where Grandma Leap helped me take off my blood-soaked shoe, cleaned the wound, probably applied Merthiolate (didn’t we all spend our summers painted orange?), and said ‘don’t tell your grandpa, he worries!’ Maybe she knew he’d take my now cool, blood-stained spear away. I was none the worse for the wear.
I have seen injuries like this time and time again in the emergency room. Relatively minor affairs; scrapes, bumps, bruises, stings, nevertheless brought to the hospital by anxious mothers and fathers, new to parenthood or simply far more worried than necessary.
I also remember the smell of Vicks Vaporub, slathered across my coughing, wheezing chest. I remember cool cloths applied during fevers. My grandmothers had those simple skills down pat. Honestly, I don’t ever remember coming to the hospital for a fever as a child. And yet, fever is one of the most common complaints for which parents bring kids to the hospital.
‘He started having a fever an hour ago, so we rushed him to the hospital!’
‘Did you give him anything for the fever?’
‘Nope, we just came straight away. We freaked out and decided it was better safe than sorry!’
I hear that a lot. There was a bruise. ‘I freaked out.’ There was a tick, ‘I freaked out.’ There was a rash. ‘I freaked out.’ The baby’s nose was congested. ‘I freaked out.’ Freaking out never helps anything. And from what I can remember, it was simply something my grandmothers never did. Their job was to draw on centuries of collected cultural and family wisdom, apply personal experience, mix it all with loving attention (and food), and bring calm to all situations. Or bring switches as the situation required.
I’m not suggesting that a family member is all that’s necessary in times of medical need. And admittedly, there are plenty of grandmothers who are as ‘freaked out’ as everyone else. (I’ve met them.) Furthermore, lots of grandmothers and grandfathers are already doing this job as primary caregivers of their children’s children. God bless them.
However, it seems to me that we have an unholy confluence of problems that make people seek healthcare for things our ancestors wouldn’t, or couldn’t have. First of all, families are separated for various reasons from wise older relatives; or don’t have any. Second, people have 24/7 access to online health information that often only increases fear. Third, we have enormous numbers of young individuals and parents who never learned much about their bodies. Add that to the general increase in anxiety that mental health workers report across the land, and families are completely overwhelmed by the sorts of ailments that have afflicted mankind since well before modern medicine existed.
It seems to me that with our long history of self-sufficiency, and our deep-rooted connections to place and family, rural America should be one of those places where grandmothers could make a real difference in an era of limited medical access, coupled with enormous medical anxiety.
Maybe, in the mountains, valleys, bayous and plains that make up rural America we can be health pioneers! What we need to do first is educate young people about how to give simple medical care to themselves and others. First-responder and First-Aid/CPR courses are a great place to start. Second, those of use who are more experienced can reach out to young people and young families; neighbors, church-members, strangers at the food-bank, and offer to be there to teach them how to manage life situations. And how not to ‘freak out.’
Finally, those of us in medicine, whether nurse, physician, medic or other, can spend time educating the people we see so that they know when, and most important when not, to worry. And never to freak out.
A thing that grandmothers, in times past, taught us oh so well.
Here we go again. In London three are dead and many injured thanks to the low-tech use of a car and knife in yet another act of cruelty and cowardice in the name of terrorism. If you’ve been on a retreat, in a coma or hiking the AT, here’s a link:
Brits rise up in unity and solidarity, etc. Great. We should all show unity and solidarity. But we should all be able to DO something since the political class as a whole, around the world, seems to think the whole terrorist thing is like a teenage phase and has nothing to do with any particular belief, ideology or policy. Witness the endless handwringing we usually see as police and officials struggle to figure out the attacker’s motivation. ‘Gee, what could it be?’
Fortunately, the Brits have put more police on the streets. ‘Armed and unarmed.’ It’s a great strategy really. One of the dead was an unarmed police officer who clearly distracted the attacker and absorbed the knife so that others could use, you know, weapons to aid him in his pursuit of martyrdom.
I rant on. But what I want to say is this. We individuals cannot predict terroristic acts, and we certainly can’t stop them before they start. That’s the job of law enforcement and the military. We can only do what we can, when these events happen, if we happen to be present.
So I’ve been thinking about things people should know how to do. First of all, we should know how to PAY ATTENTION! I have recently seen a commercial for a cellular company in which a young man streams movies and TV everywhere he goes, on the street, on the sidewalk, on the bus. The world around being, apparently, just too boring. This is dangerous. We should watch and learn. Is that a suspicous package? What does it mean that smoke is coming from under the hood of that parked car in the crowded area? Is that a real gun the scary man pulled out? Or is it just an oddly shaped, giant cell-phone? Why is that gentleman speeding towards me on the sidewalk? Wait, am I on an episode of Impractical Jokers? Paying attention to danger leads to running or fighting which leads to being the guy interviewed the next day about what happened, instead of the one remembered as ‘a really great guy who will be missed.’
We should also read. Learn, from news, books, websites and classes, how to identify concerning behaviors and situations. What does a firearm sound like? What does a bomb blast look-like? (Clue, TV and movies get it wrong a lot.) It’s easy to hear or see something dangerous and immediately think it’s nothing; we want it to be nothing, after all.
One of the sites I visit is Active Response Training. They have lots of articles about self-defense, as well as reviews of mass terror events, etc. They also have excellent classes; I’ve taken one myself many years ago.
Furthermore we should stop being lazy slugs and get in shape. Sheesh, America, there are lots of great reasons to be fit; being attractive to your mate or potential mate is a good one. So is living long and staying away from ER doctors like me. But another is that when you are fit, you can run and fight. This isn’t some right-wing way of looking at things. It’s called an ‘evolutionary advantage.’ Run, bike, lift weights, hit the punching bag. Do it until you’re exhausted then do it some more. Say it with me: Fitness = Survival. It isn’t hard.
As a child I loved the Chuck Jones cartoon production of Rudyard Kipling’s mongoose story, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. In the movie, Rikki the Mongoose says: ‘A fat mongoose is a dead mongoose.’ That is, a fat mongoose can’t fight poisonous snakes. I’ve never forgotten that lesson. Thanks Rikki! And thanks Mr. Kipling! (Not sure if it’s in the book, but the cartoon message really impacted this kid…)
So what else can we do in an age of terrorism? Emergency physicians like me understand how to manage serious injuries, but we need to encourage citizens to learn 1) first aid with hemorrhage control and 2) CPR. CPR classes are everywhere and typically include use of Automated External Defibrillators or AED’s. In fact, in trauma situations like those involving terrorism, CPR and AED’s are probably not going to be very useful. But it’s good to know for other sorts of emergencies.
DHS has a website and initiative called ‘Stop the Bleed.’ It’s worth a look as there are training videos. Many companies also sell bleeding control kits that citizens can, and I think should, keep in their vehicles or on their persons. A tourniquet and dressing don’t take up much space.
I would encourage young people to consider taking local First Responder or EMT basic classes. It’s information you’ll never regret having, and it looks great on a resume.
We need a veritable army of first responders out there, ready to help while police and EMS are either tied up, on their way or being attacked themselves. Physicians should be part of the effort to teach this material as well.
Last, but not least. Those so inclined should learn to fight. Obviously, the average person isn’t Rambo or an Army Ranger. Most of us will never be up the the level of an MMA fighter. But it may not take all that. MInd you, self-defense classes can be absolute crap. Especially the stuff they foist on nurses and physicians in order to handle attackers and dangerous patients (since security is usually told not to touch anybody…).
And self-defense skills need repetition like all motor skills. But those people who want to learn can learn. Learning to fight, whether boxing, wrestling, martial arts, etc., is hard, painful work. It isn’t for everyone.
.However, sometimes, it takes just a willingness to do something, or anything. I saw a video this week in which a citizen and CWP holder shot, and killed, a man who was holding down a police officer and beating said officer badly. Now, he was armed with a pistol, but might just as well have used the shovel I keep in my truck to hit the guy on the head. Or might have thrown a rock. Or picked up a stick.
In a building, a fire-extinguisher might be just enough delay and distraction. A can of wasp and hornet spray kept in the office is mighty nasty stuff if sprayed in the face.
If so inclined, as many of us are (and far more physicians, nurses, medics, etc. than you might imagine), carry (legally) a firearm or reasonable knife. If the attacker is bent on killing you anyway, can you do worse than fight? You may slow him (or her…sorry). You might keep them from killing anyone after they kill or maim you. Or, if you’re in good shape and have trained in some sort of class or fighting discipline (or just get really lucky…or have angels fighting with you), you might win! Sure, sure, people will call you a monster. But lives will be saved.
It’s a dangerous world, and always has been. But there are things we can do to make it less so.
Sitting back while the danger grows with our fear, apathy and inability?
Those are just bad options.
So: Put down the phone, pay attention, read and learn, get in shape, learn to help the injured and learn (or at least consider) how to resist. America, heck, civilization, needs this now more than ever.
My column in this month’s SC Baptist Courier. Feel free to share as you like.
Welcome, readers, to my new column in the Daily Yonder! It will concern rural emergency medicine and things I see through that particular lens. Have a great day and feel free to share liberally! I’m honored by the Daily Yonder to be included on their team, dedicated to all things rural.
My most recent Greenville News column.
Some thoughts on what Jesus would do today
(As we all grow more and more divided and arrogant in our views.)
Given the current political climate, a lot of our citizens are reasonably sure they know exactly what Jesus would do if he were here now. I happen to have a few thoughts on that topic myself.
It seems to me that first and foremost he’d disappoint us all by not debating the way we do. He’d actually love the people he was talking with, and want the best for everyone. Screaming matches and endless point-counterpoint were never his thing, or so it appears in the scriptures.
I think that while everyone was trying to convince everyone else about their opinion (and not changing anybody’s mind), he’d be on some street-corner healing sick people. And he’d be doing it in a way that was so dramatic people would think he was a charlatan. ‘There’s no way that paralyzed kid can walk now! It’s just a trick to convince simple-minded, unscientific people!’ That’s what some would say. And Jesus would keep right on healing cancer, HIV, gunshot wounds, schizophrenia and other awful problems.
And those people who were so full of inner pain that they wanted to die, and kept thinking that they had no worth? He’d heal their pain, and cast out demons from them. That’s what the Bible says he did, anyway. He said he was God and he taught about things like demons. People probably wouldn’t like that much; neither atheist skeptics or solid, staid, educated Christians. But the people he healed would love it.
Of course, he’d talk to people at the marches, the rallies, in the halls of legislatures and in the churches. Unlike our milquetoast, pale-faced images of gentle Jesus from Bible story-books, he would sometimes look (and be) angry. Angry about injustice and cruelty, angry about the neglect of the needy. He would also be angry about false teachers and others who robbed men and women of faith in God and left them nothing to comfort them. As before he would be angry at anyone who led others to sin. Occasionally, he would be sarcastic and insulting. He’d have harsh words for lots of pastors and sanctimonious believers. Read the Bible; it’s how he was.
Our many-flavored hatreds would give him plenty of fuel for parables, in order to guide us to the truth. But he would also be unhappy about the division and ideas heaped on people that leave them feeling worthless. Like the idea that humans are a scourge, a virus on earth. Or the obsession with hungry, sick animals while children face the same. And the way men and women are weighed down with one of two burdens, endless victimhood and its chiral image, the belief that some people’s ‘privilege’ causes all the world’s problems. He came to liberate everyone from beliefs that imprisoned them. He condemned religious leaders in his day for giving people burdens but not helping carry them; he would do the same for modern politicians and educators, ministers and mullahs who create anger, tension and violence in order to control and manipulate others.
Obviously, would talk about ‘sin,’ from greed to sexual immorality to idolatry and all the rest. He talked about those things a lot. He’d preach about the coming Kingdom of God and eternal life and redemption and judgment. He was serious about sin, but kind to all sinners, right, left and moderate. Conquering sin and death was his main mission, after all.
That would be just about enough for lots of folks. Because they didn’t come to be pressured about morals or lectured about their personal lives or told stupid fairy tales; they came for justice! For revolution! And they’d ask him to leave. Or maybe scream at him, because it’s what we do when we’re angry and sure we are right.
Ever the gentleman he would leave if asked. But before Jesus left, he might remind all of the passionate, angry people of what he said before:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.’
It seems to me that in his absence he remains present, and his teachings still condemn our hatred 2000 years down the road. If only we’ll listen.
My column in today’s Greenville News.
I love a good action movie. I tend to prefer the Marvel franchise over DC. I think Superman is too perfect and Batman just too moody. I mean, which rich guy would you rather party with? Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark? Exactly.
But I have always been amazed at the amount of destruction wrought by my beloved X-men and Avengers when battling monsters, aliens, gods and other ne’er do wells. Buildings and freeways and bridges destroyed, untold cars exploding, earthquakes and giant holes in the ground. It’s apocalyptic! In fact, if that were really happening, the toll of human dead would be staggering. Tony Stark could probably make a fortune selling coffins, and ER docs like me would be overwhelmed.
Movies like that are obviously meant to be outlandish; and to take your hard-earned vacation money. But I fear that television and movies sanitize too much of our bitter human experience, making misery somehow palatable.
Take regular action films for instance. Whatever the underlying story, it seems that gun-fights are everywhere! Bullets fly in all directions. Then, at the end of it all, bystanders aren’t injured. Nobody lies moaning or screaming for help. We don’t see the pools of blood spreading across the ground, the skin becoming more clammy, more pale as police call for an ambulance, as the paramedics or surgeons try frantically to stop the flow. We don’t see, or hear, the family member of the dead when they’re told what happened. I’ve done that a bunch and it’s something you never, ever forget. Scenes like that don’t make for fun entertainment.
In our movies nobody sees survivors, good and bad, condemned to paralysis, or with colostomies or amputations from those exciting gun-fights. What about characters punched and kicked to a pulp, their faces bloodied until they can’t breathe? They get chronic headaches, brain damage, vision problems, inability to chew or smell. I have seen them die too.
But we’re oblivious to more than real violence. When we watch trials and cheer for justice, when we want this or that person to go to prison for their crime, we sometimes forget that the imprisoned don’t see their families much, and their families miss them for years, or for life. And let’s not forget that prison, real prison, is a place where violence, rape and drug addiction are far too common.
I hate it when someone says, ‘guess he’ll get it good in prison; I hope he enjoys his cell-mate,’ or some other bit of cruelty. It’s never OK to wish for someone to be raped, male or female. Ever. Although prison has a necessary role, maybe we need to revisit the boundary between punishment and torture. We should want better for even the worst; especially if we call ourselves Christian.
There are others disconnects, of course. When characters in movies have multiple sexual partners, it looks like nothing but fun to modern, sexually liberated viewers. But we seldom see the misery of loneliness that comes from all of those connections, made and broken. Films and television do a poor job of showing us the pain and terror of HIV or hepatitis, the anxiety of unplanned pregnancy and the reality of abortion. They fail to reveal the suffering brought by cervical cancer associated with HPV. The don’t show the tears shed over infertility caused by chlamydia or gonorrhea infections; the danger to newborns caused by herpes. It’s also hard to fathom the fact that many who work in pornography are miserable in heart, mind and body, and some around the world are compelled to do it against their will, working as sex slaves.
On screen, getting drunk is just what you do. We have all laughed at intoxicated characters, for as long as actors have played them. But we seldom consider the mortality and disability from car crashes. We rarely think about the way men and women die from head injuries or asphyxiation due to alcohol or drug abuse. We don’t get to witness the abuse and neglect of children, the cruelty to spouses, the lost hope, lost productivity and broken families from both.
We have to remember that what we see in movies and television is seldom the whole story. Sometimes, the truth is better. And sometimes, unfortunately, the reality is a lot worse, and far darker than the screenwriter, producer or director can ever, or would ever, convey to our entertainment soaked, reality challenged culture.
Gather round kids! Let Grandpa Doctor Leap tell you a few things about the old days of doctoring in the emergency room…
Back in the good old days, medicine was what we liked to call ‘fun.’ Not because it was fun to see people get sick or hurt or die, but because we were supposed to do our best and people didn’t wring their hands all the time about rules and lawyers. Sometimes, old Grandpa Leap and his friends felt like cowboys, trying new things in the ER whether we had done them before or not. Yessiree, it was a time. We didn’t live by a long list of letters and rules; we knew what was important. And we were trusted to use our time well, without being tracked like Caribou through electronic badges. Those were the salad days…
When I was a young pup of a doctor, we took notes with pen and paper and wrote orders on the same. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t always fast. But it didn’t enslave us to the clip-board. We didn’t log-into the clip-board or spend twenty minutes trying to figure out how to write discharge instructions and a prescription. We basically learned in grade-school. EMR has brought great things in information capture and storage, but it isn’t the same, or necessarily as safe, as the way humans conveyed information for hundreds, nay thousands of years.
Back then, kids, the hospital was a family! Oh yes, and we took care of one another. A nurse would come to a doctor and say, ‘I fell down the other day and my ankle is killing me! Can you check it out?’ And the doctor would call the X-ray tech, and an X-ray would get done and reviewed and the doctor might put a splint on it or something, and no money changed hands.
In those days, a doctor would say to the nurse, ‘I feel terrible, I think I have a stomach bug!’ And she’d say, ‘let me get you something for that,’ and she’d go to a drawer and pull out some medicine (it wasn’t under lock and key) and say ‘why don’t you go lie down? The patients can take a break for a few minutes.’ And she’d cover you for 30 minutes until you felt better.
We physicians? There was a great thing called ‘professional courtesy,’ whereby we helped one another out, often for free. Nowadays, of course, everybody would get fired for that sort of thing because the people who run the show didn’t make any money on the transaction. And when you have a lot of presidents, vice-presidents, chief this and chief thats, it gets expensive!
When medicine was fun, a nurse would go ahead and numb that wound for you at night, policy or not; and put in an order while you were busy without saying, ‘I can’t do anything until you say it’s OK or I’ll lose my license. Do you mind if I give some Tylenol and put on an ACE? Can you put the order in first? And go ahead and order an IV so I won’t be accused of practicing medicine?’ Yep, we were a team.
There was a time, children, when doctors knew their patients and didn’t need $10,000 in lab work to admit them. ‘Oh, he has chest pain all the time and he’s had a full work-up. Send him home and I’ll see him tomorrow,’ they might say. And it was glorious to know that. Or I might ask, ‘hey friend, I’m really overwhelmed, can you just come and see this guy and take care of him? He has to be admitted!’ And because they thought medicine was fun too, they came and did it.
In those sweet days of clear air and high hopes, you could look up your own labs on the computer and not be fired for violating your own privacy. (Yes, it can happen.) You could talk to the ER doc across town about that patient seeking drugs and they would say, ‘yep, he’s here all the time. I wouldn’t give him anything,’ and it wasn’t a HIPAA violation; it was good sense.
Once upon a time we laughed, and we worked hard. Back then, we put up holiday decorations and they weren’t considered fire hazards. We kept food and drink at our desks and nobody said it was somehow a violation of some ridiculous joint commission rule. Because it was often too busy to get a break, we sustained ourselves at the place we worked with snacks and endless caffeine, heedless of the apparent danger that diseases might contaminate our food; we had already been breathing diseases all day long, and wearing them on our clothes. Thus, well fed and profoundly immune, we pressed on.
In those golden days of medicine, sick people got admitted whether or not they met particular ‘criteria,’ because we had the feeling there was something wrong. We believed one another. Treatment decisions didn’t trump our gut instincts. And ‘social admissions’ were not that unusual. The 95-year-old lady who fell but didn’t have a broken bone and didn’t have family and was hurting too much to go home? We all knew we had to keep here for a day or two and it was just the lay of the land.
I remember the time when we could see a patient in the ER and, because my partners and I were owners of our group, we could discount their bill, in part or entirely. We would fill out a little orange slip and write the amount of the discount. Then, of course, the insurers insisted on the same discount. And then nobody got a discount because the hospital was in charge and everyone got a huge bill, without consideration of their situation. The situation we knew, since we lived in their town.
Back when, drug reps left a magical thing called ‘samples.’ Do you remember them, young Jedi? Maybe not. Young doctors have been taught that drug companies, drug reps and all the rest are Satan’s minions, and any association with them should be cause for excommunication from the company of good doctors. But when we had samples, poor people could get free antibiotics, or antihypertensives, or all kinds of things, to get them through in the short run. And we got nice lunches now and then, too, and could flirt with the nice reps! Until academia decided that it was fatal to our decision-making to take a sandwich or a pen. Of course, big corporations and big government agencies can still do this sort of thing with political donations to representatives. But rules are for little people.
When the world was young, there was the drunk tank. And although mistakes were made, nobody pretended that the 19-year-old who chose a) go to the ER over b) go to jail, really needed to be treated. We understood the disruptive nature of dangerous intoxicated people. Now we have to scale their pain and pretend to take them seriously as they pretend to listen to our admonitions. They are, after all, customers. Right?
These days, we are perhaps more divided than ever. Sure, back in Grandpa Doctor Leap’s time, we were divided by specialty and by practice location; a bit. But now there’s a line between inpatient doctors and outpatient doctors, between academics and those who work in the community, between women and men, minorities and majorities (?), urban and rural, foreign and native-born and every other demographic. As in politics, these divisions hurt medicine and make us into so many tiny tribes at work against one another.
And finally, before Grandpa has to take his evening rest, he remembers when hospitals valued groups of doctors; especially those who had been in the same community, and same hospital, for decades. They were invested in the community and trusted by their patients and were valuable. Now? A better bid on a contract and any doctor is as good as any other. Make more money for the hospital? In you go and out goes the ‘old guys,’ who were committed to their jobs for ages.
Of course, little children, everything changes. And often for the good. We’re more careful about mistakes, and we don’t kick people to the curb who can’t pay. We don’t broadcast their information on the Internet carelessly. We have good tools to help us make good decisions. But progress isn’t all positive. And I just wanted to leave a little record for you of how it was, and how it could be again if we could pull together and push back against stupid rules and small-minded people.
Now, Grandpa will go to bed. And if you other oldies out there have some thoughts on this, please send them my way! I’d love to hear what you think we’ve lost as the times have changed in medicine.
Grandpa Doctor Leap
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