Tag Archives: heal

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Keep it simple

Sometimes I just despair as I read new guidelines. Don’t you? Maybe you are not a physician and don’t try to keep all of this impossible stuff in your head. Mine is full. Tilt.

Diabetes alone: if someone has type II diabetes, there are specific blood pressure guidelines, cholesterol guidelines, we are to do a hgbA1C lab test every six months minimum and more often if they are out of control, and a urine microalbumin/creatinine ratio yearly. If that starts being abnormal we are to start one of two classes of blood pressure medicines even if they have normal blood pressure.

Oh, and don’t forget: a yearly eye test and we are supposed to check their feet at EVERY visit to make sure they are not getting diabetic ulcers.

Got that? And that is just type II diabetes. And there are a whole raft of medicines, about forty right now. Some are weekly shots, some are daily tablets, some are twice a day or with every meal and they all have their own side effects, how fun. Check drug interactions, are their kidneys ok? Is their liver ok? Diabetes increases the risk of heart attack and stroke and don’t forget those feet.

Diabetes is one of the most complicated sets of guidelines, but there are a rather appalling number of guidelines. Maybe we should sic an AI on that job: Mr. Smith has type II diabetes poorly controlled, hypertension, erectile dysfunction, feels a little short of breath and has a bruise on his left shin after tripping yesterday. Please, AI, organize a twenty minute visit to cover as many things as possible efficiently and have the note finished and followup arranged by the end of it. Then it turns out that what Mr. Smith really wants to talk about is his niece who has just overdosed and nearly died from heroin, so everything else goes out the window. Maybe I should see him weekly for the next month.

Do you want to keep it simple and stay out of the doctor’s office and more importantly out of the hospital? If you are 25 and healthy, you don’t much care because old is unimaginable.

But there is a very nice study that looked at just five things regarding health, over 28 years for men and 34 for women: “The researchers looked at NHS and HPFS data on diet, physical activity, body weight, smoking, and alcohol consumption that had been collected from regularly administered, validated questionnaires.”

Here is an article about the study: https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/healthy-lifestyle-5-keys-to-a-longer-life-2018070514186

Here is the study: https://www.ahajournals.org/doi/10.1161/CIRCULATIONAHA.117.032047

So let’s break the five things down. Here are the more formal definitions: “Using data from the Nurses’ Health Study (1980–2014; n=78 865) and the Health Professionals Follow-up Study (1986–2014, n=44 354), we defined 5 low-risk lifestyle factors as never smoking, body mass index of 18.5 to 24.9 kg/m2, ≥30 min/d of moderate to vigorous physical activity, moderate alcohol intake, and a high diet quality score (upper 40%), and estimated hazard ratios for the association of total lifestyle score (0–5 scale) with mortality.”

First: never smoking. I would add never vaping and not living in a cave and burning wood and hopefully not living right next to a 12 lane superhighway, all of which are bad for the lungs. Ok, while we are at it, don’t use methamphetamines or heroin or cocaine or krocodil, right? They didn’t even include those in the study.

Second: Body mass index 18.5-25. If you aren’t there, it is diet and exercise that need to change.

Third: Thirty minutes or more per day of moderate to vigorous physical activity. That can be ten minute intervals. Three can have an enormous effect on number two.

Fourth: moderate alcohol intake. Ok, alcohol is bad for the heart, period. So is tobacco. They defined moderate as less than or equal to “5 to 15 g/d for women and 5 to 30 g/d for men”. Let’s do the math: a 12 ounce beer that is 5% has 14gm of alcohol. Here: https://www.niaaa.nih.gov/alcohols-effects-health/overview-alcohol-consumption/what-standard-drink. The 8.9% 16 ounce beer at our local pub has quite a bit more. Here is a website where you can calculate how much alcohol is in a drink: https://www.rethinkingdrinking.niaaa.nih.gov/Tools/Calculators/Cocktail-Calculator.aspx.

Fifth: Diet. There is an overwhelming amount of confusing information on the internet and some of it is not only confusing but wrong. “Diet quality in the NHS, HPFS, and NHANES was assessed with the Alternate Healthy Eating Index score (Methods in the online-only Data Supplement), which is strongly associated with the onset of cardiometabolic disease in the general population.” I have not assessed my own Alternate Healthy Eating Index score. However, there are a couple very straightforward things that help with diet. First: No sweetened drinks. That means that sugary coffee with the syrup should go. I quit drinking mochas when I read that a 12 ounce one has 62 grams of carbohydrate. I would rather have a small dark chocolate. And sodas are just evil and juice not much better. Eat the fruit instead. Second: eat vegetables, every meal. A fruit is not a vegetable and no, potato chips don’t count. I mean a green or yellow or red vegetable. You can saute any vegetable, or any that I can think of. I am not counting grains as a vegetable, so pasta, pizza, potato chips and so forth do not count. Beans do count. Third: the DASH diet recommends only a tablespoon of sweetener per day. That is not very much. You can make that cheesecake slice last a week! A small piece of dark chocolate daily or tablespoon size chunk of that cheesecake.

I had a diabetic patient who would be fine, fine, fine, then out of control. “WHAT are you eating? And drinking?” The first time it was two 16 ounce Mochas a day. Then he was fine for a year and a half. Then labs went haywire again. “What are you drinking?” “Well,” he said, not wanting to admit it, “Ok, I decided to try Caramel Machiattos.” “No, no, no! You can’t do that! You’ll end up on insulin!” “Ok, ok, got it, got it.”

And what is the difference if I try to do those five things, you ask, skeptical. “We estimated that the life expectancy at age 50 years was 29.0 years (95% CI, 28.3–29.8) for women and 25.5 years (95% CI, 24.7–26.2) for men who adopted zero low-risk lifestyle factors. In contrast, for those who adopted all 5 low-risk factors, we projected a life expectancy at age 50 years of 43.1 years (95% CI, 41.3–44.9) for women and 37.6 years (95% CI, 35.8–39.4) for men.The projected life expectancy at age 50 years was on average 14.0 years (95% CI, 11.8–16.2) longer among female Americans with 5 low-risk factors compared with those with zero low-risk factors; for men, the difference was 12.2 years (95% CI, 10.1–14.2).”

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I took the photograph from Marrowstone Island. What does a healthy seal diet look like? I am so lucky to have miles of beach to hike, as long as I watch the tides and don’t mind rain.

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Doing the best with what you have

Medicare doesn’t cover everything.

It can’t. There are new things being thought up all the time. Some are legitimate and some are scams. There are tons of quack medicine videos and supplements and stuff on line.

But there is also a matter of personnel and resources. Sometimes we do not have enough. Then we have to do the best we can with what we have.

There is a particularly difficult case from my second year of rural Family Medicine with Obstetrics. Things went right but just barely. This is from memory and over 25 years ago, in the 1990s, so I can’t violate hipaa because I can’t remember names from then. Mostly.

I had a pregnant woman whose pregnancy had gotten complicated. Her ultrasound showed an abnormal placenta. Very rarely, the placenta can grow into the uterus too far, and form a placenta increta. Even more rarely it can grow THROUGH the wall of the uterus and into another body part. That is called a placenta percreta.

In this case we thought that the placenta had grown into the bladder. We were not certain. The obstetricians were aware. Our patient was aware. A cesarean section was planned for when the fetus was mature.

Then she developed a second pregnancy complication. Preeclampsia. This is a complication where blood pressure rises, there is protein in the urine and many things can go wrong. It can progress to eclampsia, which means seizures. This is Very Bad, which means the mother and fetus can die.

She developed HELLP syndrome. This is an acronym. The P is what I worried about, platelets. Platelets help your blood clot. Her platelet count was dropping out of sight. We were rural, 180 miles from the nearest high risk obstetrician. We did have blood for transfusion but NO PLATELETS.

The treatment for preeclampsia with HELLP syndrome is to deliver the baby. I called our obstetrician the minute I got the lab result. “No platelets — can I fly her out?”

“YES! FLY HER OUT!”

Transfer to a bigger hospital with facilities for a premature infant and with platelets, because she needs a cesearean section and she could need a hysterectomy if that darn placenta has grown through. Messy.

Problem number three: weather. We are in Alamosa, Colorado, at 7500 feet, which is the valley floor. We are surrounded by 14,000 foot peaks with passes in four directions. That nearest hospital with platelets is 180 miles and over a 10,000 foot pass and it is snowing.

I call Denver first. 250 miles. Fixed wing life flight. Nope, the weather is too bad to the east and north.

I call Albuquerque. 250 miles. Nope, the pass is socked in, the plane can’t get through.

I call Grand Junction. About the same distance. They say “WHERE are you?” I’ve never tried to send anyone there before. They demur and I cajole and beg. “Okay, okay!” The high risk obstetrics doctor can’t be looking forward to meeting this patient, but they accept.

From the start of calling to the arrival of a plane and crew usually takes about four hours. I want to chew my nails.At last I hug my patient goodbye and they go.

I get the call about 6 hours later. Delivered and they did have to do a hysterectomy, but mother and baby are fine. Her bladder was untouched. They had platelets.

Whew! I was so happy, and mom and baby too. Let’s give credit to my patient too: she got prenatal care. She paid attention. She knew she was high risk. I had told her to come in if anything changed and she did, so we caught the preeclampsia on time.

But it could have gone wrong in all sorts of ways. We were both careful and we were lucky. If the storm had been over Alamosa we would have done the best we could then, too, but it could have turned out quite differently. And thanks to the high risk obstetrics doctors who accept complex patients that they have never seen from rural doctors like me!

Blessings. Blessings on all the nurses and doctors and midlevels and hospital housecleaners and security and lab workers and the Life Flight personnel and First Responders and everyone who has worked and worked and worked through the pandemic.

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I took the photograph in Maryland in December: abstract and complicated water, ice and reflections.

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Blessed

You needn’t worry that I will importune you.
Words explode and swirl upon the page.
It’s more likely that I’ll say blankly “Who?”
Since I enlarge upon a fascinating stage.
Approaching two years since I was taken sick,
on oxygen I wrote a poem of farewell.
Career ending injury: nature can be such a dick.
Breathing is important. Absent it is hell.
I am still healing. I hope that I can ski.
I am lucky that my fatigue is relatively mild.
My oxygen can go 9000 feet up where I’ll see
muscle dysfunction truly makes me wild.
Friends and family gather close and gather far
I feel blessed beneath a lucky star.

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Sonnet #2 for the Ragtag Daily Prompt: sonnet.

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happy

Ok, this is a weird little poem to my sister Chris, who died a decade ago. My father died thirteen months later. My mother was already dead. Mother and sister of cancer and father of emphysema, damn the Camels. There was no family slaughter, unless it was by cancer. There was a family meltdown on my mother’s side. Sometimes you have to let people go.

Sister sister mister miss her
look, Chris, I’m happy

Cancer cancer crabby dancer
look, Chris, I’m singing

Daughter daughter family slaughter
look, Chris, I’m healing

Healer healer wheeler dealer
look, Chris, no drama

Wombing wombing quiet blooming
look, Chris, I’m growing

The photograph is of a family cabin in Ontario. It is called “The New Cabin”, “Helen’s Cabin” (after my mother) or “Chris’s Cabin” after my sister. As you can see, it is suffering through neglect worsened by Covid-19. I put those screens up a decade ago, but they are not surviving the winters and the porch roof has a hole. It was a lovely porch to sleep on. I was last there in 2018, and up on that roof trying to tar holes as a temporary fix. We did not dare go on the porch roof, too late for that. Things change and fall away and sometimes we have to let them go. Especially if they are beyond repair. The photograph is taken earlier this year by the people who care for the cabins when we are not there.

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welcome home

home home welcome home
home is where you are, Beloved
and you are everywhere

not in churches, not for me
I run outdoors, long to be free
you are everywhere I see

the beauty in the world
love and grief and pearls
small child dance and twirl

I have crossed the boundary
over and over again
Beloved, let me stay, friend

I’ve searched for you so long
Beloved, you make us so strong
look everywhere that’s wrong

home home welcome home
home is where you are, Beloved
and you are everywhere

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August 31, 2022

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Care bare? No, Care Barrier.

My cardiologist told me to go to the Mayo Clinic six months ago.

I saw him last week and he wanted an update.

I said, “I filled out a request for a visit and my primary care referred me, but Mayo Clinic never called.”

He replies: “I will refer you.”

A week later I get a call from Mayo Clinic. But I do not have an appointment yet because

  1. They are booked out until November 18th. I am advised to “call daily” to get my appointment. They open up a week at a time, but don’t say when. A new meaning to “maybe you’ll get lucky”.
  2. They do not take my insurance and want a $5000 deposit prior to seeing me. I can fill out paperwork to ask for patient assistance. This would be the fifth hospital system in which I have filled out that paperwork. I have had to do it for four other places. The paperwork is different for each one and some even want a copy of my taxes. Do you think it’s secure? Of course it isn’t.
  3. I have to go in person to Minnesota, so add a round trip plane ticket to that $5000. They may do tests while I am there, so I don’t know how much of the $5000 I would get back. If any.

At the moment this seems insurmountable, but I will keep chipping away at all the insane barriers and paperwork. What a stupid medical system the US has, right?

We still need single payer and medicare for all. There would be one set of patient assistance papers, not five.

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Autoimmune OCD and my daughter shops my closet

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41398-021-01700-4

The article is a proposal for diagnostic criteria for autoimmune obsessive compulsive disorder, a relatively rare version of OCD. Important because the treatment has to include searching for infection that triggers the antibody response, which in turn attacks the brain. Antibiotics to treat a “psychiatric” disorder. Mind and body connection, right?

The ironic thing about this new proposed diagnosis is that I do not have obivious OCD in any way, shape or form. It is masked by packrat. Also, my OCD is focused. When I was working, it was focused on patients. My clinic charts were thorough, 100% of the time. I was brutally thorough and wouldn’t skip anything. The result was that I got a reputation for being an amazing diagnostician. Usually it was because I wanted ALL the puzzle pieces and the ones that don’t fit are the ones that interested me. They have to all fit. Either the patient is lying or the diagnosis is not as simple as it appears. Occam’s Razor be damned, people can have more than one illness.

In fact, an article 20 years ago looked at average patient panels and said that the average primary care patient has 4-5 chronic illnesses. Hypertension, diabetes, emphysema, tobacco overuse disorder, alcohol overuse disorder, well, yeah. And then the complex ones had 9 or more complex illnesses. You can’t see the person for one thing, because if the diabetic has a toe infection, you’d better look at their kidney function because the antibiotic dose can kill their kidneys if you don’t adjust it. So do not tell me to see the patient for one thing. Malpractice on the hoof. Completely crazy and evil that administrators tell doctors to do that.

No one looking at my house would ever think I have any OCD. I am not a hoarder (ok, books) but the packrat force is strong in me. My daughter did not inherit that gene. She is a minimalist. However, she has come to appreciate the packrat a little.

This summer she said that her purse is wearing out. As a minimalist she has one purse. I ask, “Would you like to see if I have one that you like?” It so happens that as I was trying to recover from pneumonia, a local garage sale had 20+ year old designer purses for $3 each, because the house was going on the market. Got to get rid of the stuff.

“Yes, please.” says my daughter.

I start with the weird ones that I know she will not want. I get eye rolls. But I am progressing towards the purses that are close to the one she has. At last I produce a small leather purse, the right size, in good shape, and she sits up. “Let me see that one.” Like Eeyore with his popped balloon, putting it in a jar and taking it out, she tries putting her phone and wallet in the purse and taking it out. “Yes, I like this!” She calls it “Shopping mom’s closet.” I think it is delightfully comic. The benefits of a packrat mother.

Back to the Nature article and OCD. The diagnostic criteria are gaining steam. Having watched a conference this summer about Pandas and Pans, mine is mild. Some young people have a version where killer T cells invade the brain and kill neurons. I had a moment of panic when the conference was discussing a case, but then I thought, if I had the neuron killing kind I would be dead or demented by now.

Instead, I’m just a little neurologically unusual.