Archive for the ‘Residency’ Category

Once again, it’s Physician Anesthesiologists Week, and it’s a great time to celebrate our specialty’s many successes and accomplishments.

But we’re wasting an opportunity if we don’t also take this week to consider the state of the specialty today, and what it could or should mean to be a physician anesthesiologist 20 or 30 years from now.

There is no question that a seismic shift is underway in healthcare. Look at how many private anesthesiology groups have been bought out by—or lost contracts to—large groups and corporations; look at how many hospitals have gone bankrupt or been absorbed into large integrated health systems. Mergers like CVS with Aetna are likely to redefine care delivery networks. Where does a physician anesthesiologist fit into this new world?

An even better question to ask is this: Is your group or practice running pretty much as it did 20 years ago? If so, then my guess is that you are in for a rude awakening sometime soon. One of two scenarios may be in play:  either your leadership is running out the clock until retirement and in no mood to change, or your leadership hasn’t yet been able to convince your group that it can no longer practice in the same expensive, antiquated model. As one academic chair said ruefully, at a recent meeting, “They’re like frogs being slowly boiled. They just don’t feel what’s happening.”

The perspective beyond the ramparts

As CSA President, I’ve had the opportunity recently to attend two remarkable meetings:  the ASA’s Strategic Dialogue Summit, which took place on January 18-19 in Chicago, and the CSA’s Winter Meeting January 22-26 in Maui. The planners of both meetings took the forward-thinking step of inviting people from outside the walls of the ASA and of traditional academic anesthesiology. They weren’t just telling the attendees—and each other—what they wanted to hear.

The ASA Strategic Dialogue Summit was organized by Immediate Past President Jeff Plagenhoef, MD, FASA, and President James Grant, MD, MBA, FASA. It brought together more than 40 anesthesiologists from private, corporate, and academic practice, both ASA loyalists and outsiders. Some of us who were there practice clinical anesthesia every day; others haven’t touched an anesthesia machine in years.

The meeting gave us an opportunity to speak candidly about the specialty of anesthesiology:

What threatens the specialty?

Are current payment models stifling progress, and what can be done?

How will new technologies make us obsolete or help us work smarter?

Are we training too many anesthesiologists, or should we train more?

How should training be revised to meet the needs of the future?

What disruptive innovations are just over the horizon?

The participants can’t say more than that at present, as we are considering the next steps that the process should take:  whether and when to engage different demographic groups of anesthesiologists in the dialogue, and involve outside stakeholders (such as third-party payers, patient advocate groups, healthcare administrators, and other physician specialties).

Beyond the Strategic Dialogue Summit, these questions should be considered by all of us, as we think about our profession and where we are going from here.

How trauma surgery reinvented itself

A prominent surgeon, Gregory Jurkovich, MD, FACS, of the University of California at Davis, gave a fascinating talk at the CSA Winter Meeting on how the specialty of trauma surgery has reinvented itself over the past 20 years in response to a crisis.

Back in 2001, the US faced a critical shortage of surgeons who were willing to take trauma call for emergency departments, Dr. Jurkovich explained. The cases often occurred at night and on weekends, and the pay didn’t begin to match the work involved. Younger surgeons going into practice no longer considered emergency call a duty as previous generations had done. Emergency departments became severely overcrowded, and the harm to patients from delays in care turned into a national scandal.

The leaders in surgery had to face facts. The profession of surgery as it existed in 2001 wasn’t delivering the best possible care to trauma and other emergency surgical patients, Dr. Jurkovich said. Not all general surgeons or orthopedic surgeons, let alone sub-specialists, were willing to assume care of emergency cases, and a surgeon who rarely sees trauma cases probably shouldn’t be managing them anyway.

A new Committee on the Future of Trauma Surgery, with broad representation from surgical boards and subspecialties, convened in 2003. The committee members decided that they didn’t want to let the specialty of trauma surgery die out, and they didn’t want to turn all non-operative care over to non-surgeons or hospitalists.

They decided to create a new specialty, which would serve emergency patients better, offer an attractive career and lifestyle, and stand as a valuable specialty in its own right. The new specialty would provide critical care training as well as operative training in trauma and other acute emergencies.

The new specialty came to be called “Acute Care Surgery”, and it has been a resounding success, Dr. Jurkovich said. It consists of a two-year fellowship after general surgery, combining trauma care, general surgery, and surgical critical care, and there are now 25 fellowship programs. Graduates work for academic and private hospitals alike, typically on a salary plus stipend basis. Their practices may include routine emergency cases (appendectomy, bowel obstruction) along with trauma cases, and acute-care surgeons admit and make rounds on surgical intensive care patients. Their round-the-clock availability helps avoid dangerous operative delays.

The shift-based work appeals to younger surgeons who seek a more predictable schedule, Dr. Jurkovich said. He pointed out generational challenges which affect surgery and every other specialty today, with more women entering medical school than ever before, more interest in a “balanced” lifestyle, and less interest in general practice than in subspecialty “niches”.

What lessons can we learn?

If the specialty of anesthesiology needs to reinvent itself—redesign what we do and how we do it—it isn’t too late if we start now. The exact solutions and details of implementation will vary by location and practice setting. But inaction, and futile attempts to defend the status quo, are the biggest threats.

For the past several years, I’ve had the privilege of traveling and speaking with anesthesiologists from a wide variety of practice settings, during my work as a CSA officer, a delegate to the ASA, and now as CSA President. The problems and the fears are evident; many anesthesiologists feel as though we are being squeezed in an ever-tightening vise of production pressure and cost constraints. The question is how to break free.

Here are my crystal ball’s top three best-case predictions—those of you who are in practice 20 or 30 years from now will have a chance to see how right or wrong they turn out to be!

The training of anesthesiologists will break the mold of today’s iron-fisted control by the ACGME, the RRC, and the match system.

We’ll no longer insist that every program train every resident with exactly the same cookie-cutter requirements. Residency and fellowship programs will develop and excel along different lines. Some will focus on scientific research, some on the economics and operational management of healthcare, and others on the clinical management of patients and teams in procedural settings. Cross-training with other specialties will expand, and anesthesiology’s influence will expand accordingly.

You’ll never hear the question, “But how will we get paid for it?”

If a peri-procedural service needs to be delivered, anesthesiologists will figure out how to do it safely and efficiently, without being hobbled by fee-for-service constraints. New care models will involve sedation nurses, ICU nurses, pharmacists, and other staffers—in addition to anesthesiologist assistants and nurse anesthetists—under the direction of anesthesiologists across the continuum of every episode of care that includes an interventional procedure. The current rigid supervision ratios and definitions will no longer apply.

Technology will redefine delivery of care.

Operating suites will have command centers where multiple rooms can be viewed and monitored simultaneously. Physician anesthesiologists will no longer spend disproportionate amounts of time performing nursing and pharmacy tasks: injecting drugs into IV lines, or mixing antibiotics. Better drug delivery systems, with feedback loops and decision support, will replace minute-to-minute manual fine-tuning. As we work smarter, the desires of upcoming generations for predictable schedules AND career satisfaction can be fulfilled.

If we face the future squarely, and make changes now that set our specialty up to survive and thrive, we can bring the joy back to the practice of anesthesiology. Then we’ll have good reason to celebrate Physician Anesthesiologists Week for many years to come.

 

In the interests of full disclosure, I acknowledge with delight that I have a non-time limited board certificate from the American Board of Anesthesiology (ABA), issued before the year 2000. I can just say “no” to recertification.

The more I learn about the American Board of Medical Specialties (ABMS) and its highly paid board members, the more disillusioned I’ve become. It’s easy to see why so many physicians today have concluded that ABMS Maintenance of Certification (MOC) is a program designed to perpetuate the existence of boards and maximize their income, at the expense primarily of younger physicians.

Lifelong continuing education is an obligation that we accepted when we became physicians, recognizing that we owe it to ourselves and our patients. That is not at issue here. We have an implicit duty to read the literature, keep up with new developments, and update our technical skills.

The real danger of MOC is this:  It is rapidly evolving into a compulsory badge that you might soon need to wear if you want to renew your medical license, maintain hospital privileges, and even keep your status as a participating physician in insurance networks. If physicians don’t act now to prevent this evolution from going further, as a profession we will be caught in a costly, career-long MOC trap. The only other choice will be to leave the practice of medicine altogether, as many already are doing.

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This column ran first in the online magazine for medical students, “in-Training”

In case you were wondering — robots won’t replace anesthesiologists any time soon, regardless of what the Washington Post may have to say. There will definitely be a place for feedback and closed-loop technology applications in sedation and in general anesthesia, but for the foreseeable future we will still need humans.

I’ve been practicing anesthesiology for 30 years now, in the operating rooms of major hospitals. Since 1999 I’ve worked at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, a large tertiary care private hospital in Los Angeles.

So what do I think today’s medical students should know about my field?

A “lifestyle” profession?

For starters, I have to laugh when I hear anesthesiology mentioned with dermatology and radiology as one of the “lifestyle” professions. Certainly there are outpatient surgery centers where the hours are predictable and there are no nights, weekends, or holidays on duty. The downside? You’re giving sedation for lumps, bumps, and endoscopies a lot of the time, which can be tedious. You may start to lose your skills in line placement, intubation, and emergency management.

Occasionally, though, if you work in an outpatient center, you’ll be asked to give anesthesia for inappropriately scheduled cases on patients who are really too high-risk to have surgery there. These patients slip through the cracks and there they are, in your preoperative area. Canceling the case costs everyone money and makes everyone unhappy. Yet if you proceed and something goes wrong, you can’t even get your hands on a unit of blood for transfusion. To me, working in an outpatient center is like working close to a real hospital but not close enough — a mixture of boredom and potential disaster.

The path I chose is to focus on high-risk inpatient cases. I especially enjoy thoracic surgery, with the challenges of complex patients and one-lung ventilation. You can bring me the sickest patient in the hospital setting — where I have all the monitoring techniques, resuscitation drugs, blood products, bronchoscopes, and anything else I might need — and I’ll be perfectly happy. The downside: a practice like mine tends to be stressful and tiring, and I never know the exact time that the day will end. Hospitals that offer Level I trauma and high-risk obstetric care are required to have anesthesiologists in house 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. There’s no perfect world.

What type of person is happy as an anesthesiologist?

Even though women comprised 47% of the US medical school graduates in 2014, only about 33% of the applicants for anesthesiology residency were women. I’d be interested to hear from all of you as to why fields such as pediatrics and ob-gyn tend to be so much more attractive to women, because I genuinely don’t understand it. But I do have a few thoughts as to the type of person who is happy or unhappy as an anesthesiologist.

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We’ve run amok with wearing gloves in the hospital.  And by “we” I mean every healthcare worker in sight.  I see people putting on gloves before they’ll give a patient a clean warm blanket.  This is not only ridiculous, it’s actually harmful.  Here’s why.

We learned the hard way in the 1980s, during the early days of the AIDS epidemic, that the HIV virus and other potentially lethal microorganisms are carried in blood and body fluids. The Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization developed the concept of “universal precautions”, which applies during all patient-care activities that may involve exposure to blood, body fluids, mucous membranes and non-intact skin.  Observing “universal precautions” means that you always wear gloves in those situations because you may not know ahead of time if a patient carries HIV, hepatitis, or any other infectious disease.  You don’t want to get infected yourself, or inadvertently infect another patient.

But when did “universal precautions” come to mean that you have to wear gloves before you touch your patient at all?

The downside of hand hygiene campaigns is that they discourage us from normal human contact with our patients.  If you’re worried that the hand hygiene police will detect a deviation from protocol and report you to your hospital’s Infectious Disease authorities, there’s an easy way to avoid the problem. Steer clear of the patient.  And with the advent of the ubiquitous electronic health record, doctors and nurses are under tremendous time pressure to complete all the required data entry fields and move patients through the system.  When you think about it, not touching the patient saves time that could be more efficiently spent at the computer keyboard.  There’s a win-win situation, you might think.  But is it really?

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Wait. Who’s burned out?

How the Affordable Care Act is worsening physician burnout, and why women physicians may be at even higher risk

To the literal-minded, burning out is the fate of light bulbs and matches.  But whether you read the popular press or medical journals today, you’re likely to find writers who are deeply concerned about “physician burnout”.

What defines “physician burnout”, and who exactly is suffering from it?  Is burnout an actual clinical syndrome, a slang term connoting fatigue and boredom, or a hazy combination of the two?  Which medical specialties have the highest rates of burnout, and are men or women physicians more susceptible?  The more you read, the more you realize how much pop psychology and sloppy language are clouding an important issue.

A perfect example of murky logic comes to us courtesy of Dr. Danielle Ofri, who wrote a recent piece for Time called “The Epidemic of Disillusioned Doctors”.  She claims that young women physicians who work in salaried primary care positions are more “resilient” than other doctors, and less likely to become disillusioned about medicine.

Now disillusionment and burnout aren’t identical concepts.  You can be quite disillusioned about the politics of medicine, and pessimistic about the future of private practice, while you take care of your patients every day with dedication and enthusiasm.

But in Dr. Ofri’s view, disillusionment and burnout are twin states of mind, and they are the harbingers of medical errors, substance abuse and depression.  The doctors she considers least likely to suffer such problems are those in her own demographic subset.  “The newer generation of female, salaried, primary-care doctors have the most optimistic outlook on medicine,” she writes.  “This bodes well for patients.”

Wait a moment.  May we see the data to back up this claim?  The source that Dr. Ofri refers to is a 2012 publication from The Physicians Foundation, a nonprofit organization that surveyed more than 13,000 physicians.  The survey addressed professional satisfaction and morale, among other issues, and reached conclusions rather different from Dr. Ofri’s.

“The majority of female physicians, employed physicians, and primary care physicians, though less pessimistic than their male, practice owner and specialist peers, are nevertheless pessimistic about the medical profession and express low levels of morale,” the report concluded, wryly noting that younger physicians “simply may not have practiced long enough to become disaffected.”

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