Just Do It My Butt

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Happy late Monday, all!

Continuing my critical analysis of our American medical system…  This is not what I set out to do on November 1, I swear, and I have other more interesting prompts to expound on after today, I promise.  For now, thank you for indulging me in this rant of sorts:

My friend posted this article today, explaining how most methods of trying to get people to take their medications do not work.  It cited this meta-analysis, which concluded that “Current methods of improving medication adherence for chronic health problems are mostly complex and not very effective, so that the full benefits of treatment cannot be realized.”  It also reviewed findings from another study, concluding that, “A compound intervention integrating wireless pill bottles, lottery-based incentives, and social support did not significantly improve medication adherence or vascular readmission outcomes for AMI [acute myocardial infarction—heart attack] survivors.”  The piece basically asserts that behavioral economics, or the art and science of ‘nudging,’ will not by itself heal what ails our behaviors, despite what Thaler and Sunstein suggest.

The discussion on my friend’s page then centered around ideas like motivational interviewing, coaching, and the like—methods that have been shown to improve likelihood of overcoming addiction, obesity, and other behavioral maladies.  It occurred to me that this is the best part of my work: asking the important questions to help patients identify meaning and intrinsic motivation for behavior change, and collaborating in such a way that they own the plan because they have an authentic hand in crafting it.   And even then it can take years for new, healthier habits to entrain, because we are complex beings each with myriad influences affecting our actions at any given time.  When I can sit and listen to what makes meaning for my patients (if they know—if they don’t then it can get really interesting or really not, it’s hit or miss), and talking about what the future might look and feel like with a few relevant changes, I bask in my professional heaven.

But who can actually do this in the modern American healthcare system??  It takes time, and as we all know, time is money.  It also takes training and resources.  We are not born knowing how to perform motivational interviewing and cognitive behavioral therapy, and even today, these skills are not necessarily mainstream medical school curriculum (well if we’re being honest, communication skills in general are still given short shrift, which boggles me).  Physicians can and do learn these skills. But they don’t necessarily have to.  Medical systems which include dieticians, exercise physiologists, and health psychologists can deploy these team members to support patients in their health journeys.  But does your doctor’s office have this kind of set up?  Does your insurance pay for these services?

Most likely the answer is no.  It’s shocking and dismaying, because this approach is proven to be successful in important ways.  I refer here to the Diabetes Prevention Program.  This study was published 15 years ago, on February 7, 2002, in the New England Journal of Medicine.  From the link, here is the study design summary:

“…Participants from 27 clinical centers around the United States were randomly divided into different treatment groups. The first group, called the lifestyle intervention group, received intensive training in diet, physical activity, and behavior modification. By eating less fat and fewer calories and exercising for a total of 150 minutes a week, they aimed to lose 7 percent of their body weight and maintain that loss.

“The second group took 850 mg of metformin twice a day. The third group received placebo pills instead of metformin. The metformin and placebo groups also received information about diet and exercise but no intensive motivational counseling.

“All 3,234 study participants were overweight and had prediabetes, which are well-known risk factors for the development of type 2 diabetes. In addition, 45 percent of the participants were from minority groups-African American, Alaska Native, American Indian, Asian American, Hispanic/Latino, or Pacific Islander-at increased risk of developing diabetes.”

What do you think happened?

“Participants in the lifestyle intervention group-those receiving intensive individual counseling and motivational support on effective diet, exercise, and behavior modification-reduced their risk of developing diabetes by 58 percent. This finding was true across all participating ethnic groups and for both men and women. Lifestyle changes worked particularly well for participants aged 60 and older, reducing their risk by 71 percent. About 5 percent of the lifestyle intervention group developed diabetes each year during the study period, compared with 11 percent of those in the placebo group.

“Participants taking metformin reduced their risk of developing diabetes by 31 percent. Metformin was effective for both men and women, but it was least effective in people aged 45 and older. Metformin was most effective in people 25 to 44 years old and in those with a body mass index of 35 or higher, meaning they were at least 60 pounds overweight. About 7.8 percent of the metformin group developed diabetes each year during the study, compared with 11 percent of the group receiving the placebo.”

Lifestyle modification surpassed medication alone in preventing progression to overt diabetes in these high risk patients—almost double the benefit.  Well duh, you say, we all knew that.  We just need to eat less and move more.  But did these people ‘Just Do It?’  As if we can wake up one day and open a shiny new box of motivation that suddenly removes all of our circumstantial, emotional, and habitual barriers to optimal health?  No.  These patients were intensely supported by a dedicated, multidisciplinary team, day in and day out, for the long haul.  Every week patients reject my team’s offers to explore strategy for habit change, saying, “I know what I need to do, I just have to do it.”  Seriously, if it were that easy we’d all be doing it already (she screams as she pulls her hair out in knotted handfuls).

So, if this unequivocal study came out a decade and a half ago, why have we not implemented its procedure in primary care practices across the country?  I’ll wait while you think it over…

It’s money, of course, right?

It’s not that people in charge of healthcare spending don’t care about patients.  It’s that the financial returns of such an investment occur too far in the future to make for a good P&L calculation today.  Most insurance companies do not cover patients for the long run, so why should I expend all these resources to get you healthy today, so you can be healthy later and cost Medicare less many years from now?  The more I think about it, the more it makes sense to me to have a single payer system that can truly invest in our health, as a population of individuals, from birth to death.  And since habits and behaviors are established at very early stages of development, doesn’t it also make sense to have the medical/healthcare system integrated with the education system?  If we are a nation dedicated to the health and well-being of children so they can become healthy and well adults, why would we allow junk food in our schools and cut physical education?  What private, for-profit entity in its right capitalist mind would want to take that on?

Well, I trust you get my point.  It’s late and I have committed to writing every day this month, so I must stop here tonight.  Thank you again for your indulgence as I strode into the weeds on this one.

Hope to see you back tomorrow!

 

What If I Slip?

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NaBloPoMo 2017: Field Notes From a Life in Medicine

40 hours out from my non-traumatic, sports-induced knee collapse, I’m off crutches, woo-hoooooo!  The knee is still swollen and stiff, and people still look twice when they see me limping.  I’m thinking of ordering from Peapod–the thought of walking around the grocery store, which I normally love doing, makes me wince a little.

I’m much more afraid, though, of the back slide that may ensue in these next days and weeks.  I’ve worked so hard the last few years, establishing and entraining an excellent exercise habit, and I was just hitting a period of new growth and ability, so exciting!  I was getting lighter and nimbler on my feet, and now I lurch clumsily, Trandelenburg-like (not really, but kinda).  All year I have felt sluggish and tense if more than two days went by without a work out.  I barely moved yesterday and I loved it, which scares me.

The last few months also saw a shift in my eating, recapturing a sense of control.  I was eating less without hunger or feeling deprived, and though my weight had remained roughly the same, my figure was noticeably streamlining.  I liked looking in the mirror again.  Last night I found myself grazing steadily after dark.  …Stress eating sucks.  I only recognized a few years ago that I do it, and I have since had much more empathy for my patients with similar patterns of food, tobacco, alcohol, and other ‘substance’ use.  I know I should not be shoveling tortilla chips, ice cream, cookies, and candy in my mouth at 10pm.  I know I don’t need the calories, I’m not really hungry, and I will feel guilty on the other side.  And I do it anyway.  It comes in cycles, and I have yet to find a healthier behavioral alternative in those moments (drink a full glass of water, get on the elliptical, drop and 20 push-ups!  Ooo, that last one might work…).

The point is, I really worry how this setback with my knee will derail and reverse all that I have accomplished until now.  (hyperventilation) GAAAAAHH!!

But wait, the injury was less than two days ago…  And I continue to feel better, regaining range of motion and limping slightly less with the help of ibuprofen and RICEing.  What did I write the other night about resting and recovering?  And what I have been preaching to patients about mindfulness, radical acceptance, and doing what you can at the time?  About small change steps sustained over time, and about how worry is counterproductive, because to paraphrase Michael J. Fox, if what you’re worried about actually happens, now you’ve lived it twice!?

Okay, I’ got this.  Plenty of movement I can still do with a bum knee (including maybe push-ups when I feel a late-night ice cream hankering).  I’m still the same motivated workout beast I was 60 hours ago, the same person who just got through a 30 day food challenge with only minor transgressions.  And JEEZ, it’s only been 40 hours.

Well thanks for helping me work through that, my friends.  I’m good now.

The Doctor Becomes the Patient

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Grandma Has Hurt Herself.

Tonight at volleyball, I was given the perfect set, my timing was getting better, I sprang and hit the ball over the net… I think it landed in, but I was distracted by the crunching sensation and noise I felt in my left knee, and then breathtaking pain as I landed the jump.  Immediately I went rolling, writhing on the floor, lamaze breathing long and slow (nice how that comes in handy at times like this).

As I sat sidelined, the medical inventory began:  No torsive forces, just a buckle.  No ankle or hip pain, only knee.  It’s the bad knee, had similar pain landing a little jump a few months ago, though not nearly this bad.  Pain primarily posterior, deep, left of center, worse with knee extension and dorsiflexion.  Anteromedial joint line pain with weight bearing.  Immediate but mild swelling/effusion.  Hmmm, maybe medial meniscus, possibly also PCL strain/tear?  When should I get the MRI?  How long before I can start PT?  Where is that knee sleeve I got before?  600mg ibuprofen STAT.

The young people were so loving, gathered around asking me where it hurt, getting ice, helping me up, grabbing blocks to put my leg up, glancing over empathetically as I RICEd.  I felt cared for and also embarrassed.

Not just embarrassed.  I felt guilty, maybe even ashamed.  What had happened?  I’ve been training, I’m a good jumper, what did I do wrong?  Was it karmic payback?  I left home just as my kid was struggling with some homework—but nothing I thought she couldn’t handle.  Or maybe I had been getting too cocky that I could actually do this at my age?  Just yesterday I posted videos of my most recent progress on the TRX—I was openly bragging–“toot-toot!” I wrote gleefully.  Or it was an error in judgment: I have not slept enough this week, and I knew I was tired before I went tonight.  But I wanted to go meet my new friends, I wanted to play and have fun.

The frustration came all at once, and with considerable force.  Thankfully I had a friend nearby with a consoling ear and some crutches to lend.  All athletes get injured, she said.  I didn’t do anything wrong.  Yes, I’ve been training, and I was also weekend warrioring it all these months.  This has been my problem knee for at least 15 years, maybe it was going to happen anyway.  It’s still interesting to watch, almost from outside myself, the emotional lava lamp of fear, regret, anxiety, dread, catatrophization, and sorrow.

Experience and maturity, however, make me optimistic.  It’s a temporary setback, and I have resources available to me for recovery, growth, and even enhancement.  Now I get to learn how to use crutches, and I can relate much better to my patients with knee injuries.  I also get to test my newly formed theory that though we may slow down in general with age, we need not resign ourselves to inevitable and morose decline.  Patients ask me often, what should they expect to be able to do at this age or that, how can they know their limits?  For a long time I had no good answer.  But as I have regained strength, endurance, stability and mobility these last few years (tonight notwithstanding), I now tell them: It depends on what you want and how much you invest.  My 1977 Oldsmobile will not run like my 2012 Highlander.  But if I really want to drive that thing, I can put in all the special care and maintenance required and make it roadworthy.  It’s the same with our bodies.  They are incredibly resilient and adaptive, and also mortal.  So we must Fuel and Train, then Rest and Recover appropriately.

I guess I pushed past my current limits tonight.  Setback acknowledged.  I don’t regret the last five months–I made new friends and played and had fun!  I anticipate a high-learning road to recovery.  And I think I’ll get back before they forget me.