Archive for May, 2011

The Cognitive Traps We All Fall Into

Harriet Hall
Thursday, May 26th, 2011

Harriet A. Hall, MD, is a retired family physician, author and former Air Force flight surgeon who writes about medicine, complementary and alternative medicine, science, quackery, and critical thinking. She is an editor and one of the 5 MD founders of the Science-Based Medicine blog, a contributing editor to Skeptic magazine and Skeptical Inquirer, and a medical advisor and author of articles on the website Quackwatch.com. For more information on Dr. Hall, click here.

In my recent review of Peter Palmieri’s book Suffer the Children I said I would later try to cover some of the many other important issues he brings up. One of the themes in the book is the process of critical thinking and the various cognitive traps doctors fall into. I will address some of them here. This is not meant to be systematic or comprehensive, but rather a miscellany of things to think about. Some of these overlap.

Diagnostic fetishes

Everything is attributed to a pet diagnosis. Palmieri gives the example of a colleague of his who thinks everything from septic shock to behavior disorders are due to low levels of HDL, which he treats with high doses of niacin. There is a tendency to widen the criteria so that any collection of symptoms can be seen as evidence of the condition. If the hole is big enough, pegs of any shape will fit through. Some doctors attribute everything to food allergies,  depression, environmental sensitivities,  hormone imbalances, and other favorite diagnoses.  CAM is notorious for claiming to have found the one true cause of all disease (subluxations, an imbalance of qi, etc.).

Favorite treatment.

One of his partners put dozens of infants on Cisapride to treat the spitting up that most normal babies do.  Even after the manufacturer sent out a warning letter about babies who had died from irregular heart rhythms, she continued using it. Eventually the drug was recalled.

Another colleague prescribed cholestyramine for every patient with diarrhea: not only ineffective but highly illogical.

When I was an intern on the Internal Medicine rotation, the attending physician noticed one day that every single patient on our service was getting guaifenesin.  We thought we had ordered it for valid reasons, but I doubt whether everyone benefited from it.

Recognizing warblers.

Like birdwatchers, hospitalists like Palmieri learn to identify which doctor admitted a patient. Child doesn’t appear sick; admitting diagnosis is “occult bacteremia”; patient was given an intramuscular injection of Cephotaxime in the office — oh, that must be Dr. X.

Rapid identification vs pareidolia

Humans are good at pattern recognition. This allows experienced clinicians to make rapid diagnoses, but it also allows us to see the Virgin Mary on a grilled cheese sandwich.

Rooster syndrome

Rooster crows, sun comes up; therefore rooster made sun come up. Baby had colic, was given treatment X, colic resolved; therefore X cures colic. In reality, colic resolves spontaneously by 3-4 months of age and X was useless.

Copycats

Mimicking what other physicians in the community are doing.

Availability

Choosing a drug because you have samples handy that the drug rep left.

Ulysses syndrome

Ulysses went from one adventure to another in the odyssey of returning home from the Trojan War. A false positive test can lead to a fruitless odyssey of further investigation: tests lead to more tests, maybe even invasive procedures and harm to the patient. Eventually it is realized that the patient has been healthy all along.

Unnecessary lab tests

Sometimes tests are done in a scattershot attempt to find something, anything. Palmieri’s pathologist wife directs a laboratory and frequently gets calls from doctors who have ordered an unfamiliar test and have no idea what to do when they get an abnormal result. Instead of getting an individual chemistry test, we get SMAC panels because the machine is there and it’s so convenient and cheap. With 20 tests on these panels, there is a 66% probability that at least one test will be outside normal limits on a perfectly healthy normal person.

Defensive medicine

With the present legal climate, doctors sometimes do tests or treatments with an eye to how things would look in court, rather than for the direct benefit of the patient.

Showmanship

Ordering tests to impress the patient that the doctor is being thorough and is actually doing something.

Hardwired fallibility

Our brains do not function in a rational, objective, logical way. We have built-in psychological mechanisms and defects in information processing; our brains have evolved a repertoire of tricks and shortcuts that serve us well in everyday life but that must be overcome for critical thinking and science.

Confirmation bias

Once we form a belief, we seek out evidence that confirms it and reject evidence that contradicts it. We are all biased, but by being aware of our biases we can activate a self-correcting mechanism.

Over-generalization

We form opinions about the many based on our experience of a few. We may base our idea of a disease on a patient who had an atypical presentation, or tend to avoid using a drug because of a patient who had an uncommon side effect. Radiologists who have missed a diagnosis are tempted to over-interpret x-ray findings for a time afterwards.

Anchoring

We tend to reach an early diagnosis and cling to it even when subsequent evidence doesn’t fit. We tend to accept the diagnosis of the referring physician rather than going back to square one to make up our own mind.

Diagnosis momentum

An early possibility becomes a presumptive diagnosis and gains legitimacy as it is repeated by more and more health care providers.

Framing

We seek a diagnosis within the context of how the information is presented to us. Palmieri tells about a boy who presented with “frequent throat infections.” He was referred to ENT and even had a tonsillectomy before it was discovered that he had never even had a sore throat, only unexplained fevers that had been falsely attributed to throat infections but that eventually turned out to be due to juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.

Miscommunication and assumptions

Palmieri describes a case where an ENT consultant was called in directly by the worried parents of a child hospitalized with an ear infection. He assumed that they and the pediatrician must have wanted him to put in PE tubes; otherwise there would have been no earthly reason for a consult. He had booked an OR and scheduled the patient for surgery before it became clear that the child had a first ear infection that was responding to treatment, that ENT input was unnecessary, and that PE tubes were clearly not indicated.

Algorithms

We simplify our approach to complex problems by following algorithms like “if the white count is over 15,000, give antibiotics.” This is not always appropriate. Algorithms provide a convenient framework, not an unalterable directive.

Tunnel vision

We are cautioned against thinking of zebras every time we hear hoofbeats, but we often fall into the opposite trap: we tend to fixate on the diagnoses we commonly see in our practice and not consider rare possibilities. On a recent episode of the television show “Untold Stories from the ER” there was a toddler who was refusing to walk because of leg pain. They took x-rays looking for fractures to confirm their initial diagnosis of child abuse. It turned out he had scurvy, a vitamin C deficiency that simply doesn’t occur in the 21st century US — but it did, because he was refusing all foods but oatmeal and his uneducated parents didn’t know there was anything wrong with catering to his wishes.

Conclusion

In medical school, doctors learn science but they may not learn to think like a scientist. Once out in practice, they become vulnerable to unproven claims, myths, and pseudoscience; and they are encouraged to give advice based on common sense and intuition rather than on evidence. Not just doctors but everyone needs to better understand the cognitive traps we all fall into. Since our human brains are inherently fallible, only critical thinking and good science can keep us on track. A major theme of this blog is that good science is essential for correcting our errors.

What Must We Know About What Our Doctors Know?

Jessie Gruman
Wednesday, May 25th, 2011

Jessie GrumanThe most important thing I learned was that different doctors know different things: I need to ask my internist different questions than I do my oncologist.”

This was not some sweet ingénue recounting the early lessons she learned from a recent encounter with health care.  Nope.  It was a 62-year-old woman whose husband has been struggling with multiple myeloma for the last eight years and who herself has chronic back pain, high blood pressure and high cholesterol and was at the time well into treatment for breast cancer. 

Part of me says “Ahem.  Have you been paying attention here?” and another part says “Well of course!  How were you supposed to know this?  Have any of your physicians ever described their scope of expertise or practice to you?”

I can see clinicians rolling their eyes at the very thought of having such a discussion with every patient.  And I can imagine some of us on the receiving end thinking that when raised by a clinician, these topics are disclaimers, an avoidance of accountability and liability. 

But all of us – particularly those receive care from more than one doctor – need to have a rudimentary idea of what each clinician we consult knows and does. Why is this clinician referring me to someone else? How will she communicate with that clinician going forward? How and about what does she hope I will communicate with her in the future?

Why does our clinician need to address these questions?

Because in the absence of real guidance we will guess.  Some of us will make informed guesses and be mostly right. Others of us will leave our primary care provider in the dust and seek care for routine health matters from our specialist, whom we see more frequently and who seems to know us better. Some of us, like my friend above, will ask for help from whichever physician is handy and will call back, regardless of the problem.  And some of us will throw up our hands in frustration and head for the local emergency department when we find we can’t breathe and don’t know which of our doctors to consult about those damn allergies.

These ad hoc solutions are a waste of our time and surely contribute to a poor use of clinician and institutional resources.

Fragmentation of health care and lack of coordination of services are widely recognized as problems.  Considerable efforts now aim to improve communication among providers when a person leaves the hospital, for example, and great stock is placed in the potential of the new patient-centered medical homes to “coordinate” our care (although the parameters of such coordination have yet to be defined).   

There has been little or no recognition, however, of the fact that we patients and our families and loved ones are the main coordinators of all care: We decide when a threshold of discomfort has been crossed and we need professional help.  We decide from whom and in what setting to seek such help.  And for the foreseeable future, unfortunately, we choose to share the test results and treatment plans from one of our clinicians with another – or not.  And we are doing this without guidance. 

What would guidance look like?

Well, it doesn’t look like a website.  More likely it has clinicians taking these small steps:

Clearly introducing their expertise, their experience and their role relative to other clinicians caring for us.  This needn’t be highly technical or take a lot of time but it does need to differentiate one clinician’s role from other specialists’ or primary care provider’s, anticipating that I and my caregivers may be confused about which problem is best addressed by which doctor.  Connie Davis, a geriatric nurse practitioner in British Columbia, says, “When I introduce myself to the patients I serve, I say, ‘I’m a geriatric nurse practitioner. Have you ever worked with a nurse practitioner before?’ If they haven’t, I tell them that I am a nurse with additional training, so I am somewhere between a nurse and a doctor and that I work with older adults to address common health concerns and make sure everything is working as well as possible.”

Giving simple but full explanations about referrals: why, to whom, for what, expectations about ongoing care and future communication, both between physicians and between the referring clinician and the patient.  Such an explanation lays out a template for us to more easily find the right solution to the current problem.  Further, many of us assume that because the receptionist uses a computer, our records are automatically electronically (and magically) transmitted to every other physician to whom we are referred.  We can’t do our part to support inter-physician communication if we believe it is being done for us already.

Saying “That’s not my area of expertise.”  As someone who is “doctored up” with about 15 physicians treating me right now, I sometimes guess wrong about what any one of them considers within their expertise.  I get a little frustrated but am ultimately reassured when one of them responds to my question with “Not my body part,” or “You need to talk to your primary care provider about that.”  A survey released this week by the National Alliance on Mental Illness found that patients and family members are concerned when their doctors don’t tell them they lack expertise about a condition: 75 percent of parents of kids with mental illness who were surveyed doubt their primary care providers’ abilities to treat their kids effectively.  It’s difficult to establish a “continuous healing relationship,” as the Institute of Medicine report Crossing the Quality Chasm encourages, when questions about clinician competencies are not directly addressed.

Don’t get me wrong. System-level fixes such as  tailored online information, interoperable electronic health records with good patient portals and enhanced primary care will ease some of the redundancy and fill some of the gaps that now by default (and often without our recognition) fall to us to patch together.  But at the end of the day, it’s my mom deciding whether to call the cardiologist, the neurologist, the geriatrician or 911 about my disabled dad’s sudden dizziness.  She’s the one who coordinates his care.

She also needs help from her clinicians to fulfill this responsibility.  As do we all.

The Conversation Continues: Vitamins and Supplements

CFAH Staff
Tuesday, May 24th, 2011

Consumer Reports warns us to be aware of unregulated dietary supplements and provides some valuable resources for people considering taking supplements or who currently do.

For more information on this topic, check out our latest Prepared Patient feature article and Bob Stewart’s experience with supplements.

Turning 65: Finding a Prescription Drug Plan

Trudy Lieberman
Monday, May 23rd, 2011

Trudy LiebermanThis is the fourth in a series of posts that examine the process of signing up for Medicare, navigating its rules, choosing supplemental coverage and planning for health care in a program with a very uncertain future.  Here are the first, second and third posts in this series.

If I were to choose a Medigap policy to supplement my basic Medicare coverage, I would still have to buy a separate plan for prescription drugs, since Medigap sellers can’t include drug benefits in those policies.  In its effort to expand the market for private insurers, Congress wanted to keep the drug benefit separate.  That way more sellers could offer more products.  And offer more products they do—so many of them that it’s nearly impossible to weigh all the variables and pick the right one, given that your prescription needs can change during the year.  In January, you might take only one medication or perhaps none.  In December, you might need several for a newly discovered disease.  So right off the bat, it’s impossible to assess your risks and needs.   Still, I gave it a shot by using the shopping tools Medicare provides.  

The first thing was to figure out the retail cost of the drugs I currently take.  I have always had super drug coverage, so it was shocking to learn that my drugs would cost $3,131 if I had to pay out of pocket.  From interviewing seniors over the years, I know they can be paying four or five times that amount to cover multiple or even more costly medications.   Armed with that information, I began the selection process by looking at Medicare’s handbook Medicare & You for initial guidance, noting that there were 33 stand-alone drug plans I could choose from in New York City.

How to pick one, though?  I called 1-800-Medicare and got nowhere.  It took four minutes to make an electronic operator “understand” what my Medicare number was.  Once we got through that, the digits aligned, and I was informed that I had not chosen a drug benefit and needed to enroll in one or face a penalty.  I knew that; I just wanted someone to answer three questions.  Finally, the electronic voice said I could say “agent,” and someone would help me.  I did and was told I had to wait ten minutes.  I hung up and called the Medicare Rights Center in New York City, a non-profit organization that’s supposed to help seniors through this selection morass.

I once served on the board of directors for this Center and thought I knew how it worked. But the help I got was disappointing.   How do I make a choice, I asked.  Any senior might ask the same question.  The counselor asked if I had access to the Internet and directed me to go to Medicare.gov and enter the requested information.  “They will give you a few options,” he said.  But how do I choose among those options, I wanted to know.  “Make sure the plan covers your most important drugs and of course, the cost of the plan—the monthly premium—may be a factor,” he advised.  Duh! I thought.  I pressed: Was there anything else that I should consider?  Yes, he said, don’t enroll in a plan on the Internet.  It’s best to call Medicare directly.  Sometimes it doesn’t go through (presumably the application), and you think you’re enrolled but you’re not.  It’s best to speak to a live person at Medicare.” After all the trouble I had reaching a live person, that advice hardly seems realistic.

Having struck out with the help lines, I examined the handbook once again trying to find a suitable choice among the 30-some offerings displayed.  The first thing I noticed was a string of stars after each plan—a satisfaction rating determined by Medicare.  But what did satisfaction mean?  Did people complain if they had to pay too much out of pocket?  Did the pharmacy give them a hard time because of restrictions placed by the insurer?  Did they have to wait more than an hour to fill a prescription?  The broad term “member satisfaction” was too vague for perfect decision-making so I asked the counselor at the Medicare Rights Center what it was.  He told me he didn’t know and had to ask a colleague.  Finally, he said the stars are ratings by Medicare as far as complaints or grievances, or from beneficiary surveys.  “The more stars, the better the plan.”  I got that.

Most of the plans rated two or three stars; a few got only one—not a great endorsement of quality even if I wasn’t quite sure what it was.  So I looked at the two-star, four-star and five-star plans. Two of the five-star plans had deductibles of $310.  One had a deductible of $100, but a higher premium—a common trade-off in this business.  They all had coinsurance of 25 percent of the drug bill, but what did it apply to?   The four-star plans had lower deductibles.  One from First United American had a $110 deductible for some drugs and a premium of $49.80.  The handbook said to call the plan.  Just what I wanted, another phone call!  The UnitedHealthcare/AARP four-star plan had a slightly cheaper monthly premium, $38.60, and no deductible applied to any drugs.  One would require me to pay 33 percent of a drug bill; the other 30 percent.  Again it wasn’t clear what that meant.   The Medicare handbook didn’t say, but a sales brochure from UnitedHealthcare did.  It would apply to “specialty tier” drugs—unique and very expensive medications.   I don’t take any of those.  Seniors pay one way or another through a combination of higher or lower premiums, deductibles, copays and coinsurance.  So the UnitedHealthcare/AARP plans looked like winners.  The fact that they had no deductible also made them appealing.

My shopping experience would not be complete unless I consulted Medicare.gov and went through the four steps of selecting a drug plan.  At first, the process seemed pretty straightforward.  I entered some basic information like the kind of Medicare I had, listed my three medications and selected the neighborhood pharmacy I use.  Someone who takes lots of drugs could find it frustrating to gather all the prescriptions and enter the dosage and quantities before the website times out.  I had to try a couple of times to get it right.  Then came the comparison step, a frustrating and practically useless exercise.  The website said I had 30 plans to choose from, but it seemed like they weren’t the same as the ones in the handbook.  The website listed a Medco plan with four and a half stars.   The handbook showed only three stars for Medco plans.  I was growing suspicious of the website information.

The “compare plans” section provided a lot of data—monthly premiums, deductibles, copayments, estimated health and drug costs, and the estimated annual retail cost of my drugs.  I presumed they were using retail prices that the pharmacy I listed was charging.  But the numbers did not match those that the pharmacy gave me for the drugs.  The pharmacy said that my drugs would cost $3,131, but Medicare.gov gave me totals in the $1,200 to $1,400 range for some of the options.  I did discover a note that said costs may be different depending on the amount of the Part B premium and any Part D penalties.  Maybe that was the difference.   At this point, I lost patience, especially since trying to print lots of pages and comparing zillions of numbers was really hard. In the end, I didn’t trust the website information, and if I were to choose a stand-alone plan, I would probably pick one of the AARP offerings.  The three-star plan was more comprehensive than the one with four stars, and knowing that I don’t like risk, I would probably choose it.  The sales brochure was clear and told me what I needed to know.

The next task for me to cover Medicare’s gaps was to examine Medicare Advantage plans, which would put my coverage totally in the hands of private insurers, not the government.    More on Medicare Advantage in an upcoming post.