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The wounded rock

 

 

water carving

 

I took this photo a few weeks back and the image keeps popping back into my head.

It’s amazing for a number of reasons. First of all it looks as if the rock has been virtually split in two by a single blow. But not in the more usual way. If a rock is split in two the cut is usually narrow, as if done by a knife, but look how wide this cut is! It’s almost as if its been done by some giant axe. Secondly, I’m pretty sure this wound in the rock has been inflicted by water, and isn’t that in itself, incredible?

That water has the power to cleave a rock.

Well, we know it does. But look again. Where is the water? It is rushing, powerfully, past, right NEXT TO the rock!

So, what happened here? Did the water split this rock apart then veer aside to thunder down to the side of it? And how long did this take to happen? A moment? A year? An aeon?

Before I go, one more thing keeps me coming back to this image. It’s a kind of symmetry. There’s an echo, a shadow, a fractal, or something here. The flowing water and the wounded rock……

Life’s like this. In so many ways.

Raindrops on petals

Ok, so it was a really rainy day in Glasgow, but raindrops on petals are SO beautiful

How can a doctor practice holistically? Intention and attention are certainly fundamentals but there are concepts and mental frameworks which set up holistic care. Here are three key ways to make holistic care happen.

1. Looking for connections

If a human being is considered as a complex adaptive system, then symptoms and physical changes in individual are understood to be connected. Every part of a complex adaptive system can act on, and, in turn, be acted upon, by other parts. So what’s the connection between this symptom and another one? How are all the symptoms connected up? Looking to see what connections there are develops the focus from parts towards the whole.

Within a human being we can become aware of whole systems of interconnection. The fields of psychoneuroimmunology (the interaction between the mind, the nervous system and the immune system), psychoneuroendocrinology (the mind, the nervous system and the endocrine system), and in more recent times, interpersonal neurobiology (the links between the mind, the brain, and others), have all advanced our understanding of the interconnectedness within a human being, and between an individual and their environment.

2. Looking for context

Every living being is in constant active relationship with multiple environments, physical, social, cultural, temporal. A holistic approach entails seeing the individual within their particular environments and understanding how they are related. In other words, exploring the contexts of the person, their health and their illness.

A reductionist approach de-contextualises phenomena. Randomised, controlled trials, for example, claim to “control for” contextual factors and study individual phenomena without those influences and relationships. I have serious doubts if such approaches are ever really achievable, but even if they were, the findings would need to be re-contextualised to make sense of an individual life.

In a holistic approach, context is always important.

3. Stories and metaphors.

I’m particularly fascinated by individual stories. Every person I see tells me a new story, and its always a fascinating one. We make sense of our lives through story. We understand the present in the light of both the past, and of future hopes and fears. We gain a sense of Self through story. We understand each other through the shaking of our stories.

For me, narrative is the core of a holistic approach.

There is also one very intriguing element of an individual story which, when it manifests itself is like a nugget of gold, the embodied metaphor. For example, the person who presents with an eye problem whose core issue is that “my family don’t see things the way I see them”. The whole area of embodied metaphors is a fascinating one and if it appears in someone’s story, it can be the key to resolving the problem.

I think of myself as a holistic doctor. But what does that mean, and how can I practice holistically?

One way to understand the holistic approach is to consider what we attend to, and what we intend.

By attend to, I mean what do we pay attention to, or focus on. In training I was taught to focus on parts and pathologies and that’s the core focus for most medical care. We create our health care systems around parts and pathologies. That’s why hospitals have a Dermatology Department, a Chest Clinic, a Gynaecology Department, a Gastrointestinal Clinic etc. All of these services focus on body parts (which are members of certain body systems or regions) and on trying to treat the pathologies discovered in those parts. General Practice, in the time of Balint and the creation of GP Training Schemes in the UK, was built around a focus on the person and the relationship between the doctor and the patient. The core of good General Practice was seeing this patient not as another case of disease x, but as John Smith, the 52 year old farmer, whose wife died last year in a car accident, and whose dairy farm is barely paying its way, whose father died of a heart attack aged 52, and who has phoned you to say he has been getting pains in his chest for the last three days. However General Practice has been reconstructed in recent years around pathologies and diseases. Now the average GP Practice has an Asthma Nurse, a Diabetic Clinic, a target to check blood pressure readings and smoking activities and an appointment system created to facilitate fast, problem-orientated consultations.

Holistic care involves a focus on the person, not the part. Any problems or pathologies are considered within the context of the person, not the other way around. Who is this person who I am speaking to? How do they live? And what are experiencing that is disturbing or distressing them? How is this disease experienced by them, and when and how did it appear in their life?

I attend to the person, and the person’s individual experience (revealed through the telling of their story, through their non-verbal communications and through the changes in their bodies)

What do I intend? The therapeutics taught in medical training is intended to manage disease. Doctors might talk of cures (rarely, in my experience) but particularly in the area of non-communicable chronic illness the intention is to control symptoms or limit further progress of pathology. There are no cures for asthma, diabetes, high blood pressure….. or any chronic disease. Diseases are managed by the prescription of drugs, and those drugs are for life, because they are not intended to produce healing.

Healing – there’s another word you don’t hear doctors use much. But surely all health care should be about healing (if healing means moving in the direction of greater health). Health, if it improves in patients receiving these treatments, is a kind of side effect. It appears, hopefully, as the disease or pathology reduces.

In my daily work, I, and my colleagues, intend to heal. Does that mean we try to cure? Well, to answer that would open a debate about what is cure, and I’ll leave that for another day. Let’s say we intend to maximise health. I don’t know any cures for MS, or asthma, or diabetes, but I do know that patients with those illnesses can experience different degrees, or levels of health.

My intention is to maximise health through stimulation and support of self-regulation and self-repair, and in so doing the patient will experience the care as healing. The way we try to mobilise self-healing is through care which is integrative. Integrative care is any intervention or therapy which increases the amount of integration, or coherence, in the person.

I do not believe that holistic = good, and disease management = bad. We need good disease management. Good disease management in acute care will save a life today. Good disease management will improve the quality of someone’s life by controlling symptoms and inhibiting the progress of pathology. But it takes holism to maximise healing and bring the best possible health experience to a person.

If we are providing health care, surely somewhere in the system, there needs to be the intention to heal, and is there ever a case for not attending to the person, but only attending to the pathology?

Resilience

One of the characteristics of health is resilience. But what is resilience?

One definition is –

Resilience is the capacity of a system to absorb disturbance and reorganise while undergoing change so as to still retain essentially the same function, structure, identity, and feedbacks.

I like this definition. It captures the essential elements of reorganisation and change whilst retaining integrity and coherence. In other words, when something disturbing happens (and in health terms that can be anything which is a biological stressor – infectious organisms, chemicals, drugs, injuries or operations, or psycho-social stresses ie significant life events) then the system, or the organism, makes an adaptive response. The response has two aspects – defence, which tries to maintain the internal status quo, and reorganisation, which produces change within. Both are necessary, and whilst they can seem like opposites, both functions are required.

When someone is resilient they are less likely to be infected when a bug is doing the rounds, less likely to be overwhelmed or blown off track by major life events, AND they are more likely to recover and repair when damaged, but, more than that, are more likely to change, develop and grow.

As Prigogine demonstrated with his concept of “dissipative structures”, living forms develop and grow by falling apart. Reorganisation involves elements of breaking down, or dis-organising what is already there, and of putting things back together but in a new way.

How do we maximise resilience?

I read a paper recently which considered the phenomenon of resilience in relation to “fragile states” and the author highlighted two ways to maximise resilience.

Firstly, to develop “resilience-sensitive” policies (or actions), and, secondly, to create the conditions which support resilience. I think both of these ideas are useful in thinking about resilience in health care.

Our treatments should be “resilience-sensitive” ie if a drug, or an operation, or whatever other treatment is used impairs resilience it is less likely to be effective than one which at worst is neutral, but at best, is stimulative or supportive of resilience. How often do we think of this aspect in health care?

Secondly, how do we create the conditions to foster resilience? That’s a question that crosses the boundaries from the personal to the social and political. There are environmental, societal and economic aspects to that question. Is a polluted environment going to be conducive of resilience? What about an unsafe community? And what about the increasing inequality in income distribution? At a personal level, what about emotional intelligence? What about food? What about exercise? What about Nature?

What do you think?

What could you do to foster and maximise your resilience?

Blossoming

20130507-221610.jpg

No matter how often I see this, it fills me with wonder. How great to be able to slide back the consulting room glass door, step outside, and capture this abundance of buds and early blossoms. These simple pleasures make it great to be alive.

New life

From my consulting room window yesterday

Here comes the magnolia

Spring clematis

Three kinds of antis

The aggressive anti

The aggressive anti is either verbally, or physically, aggressive. They attack the people they are against, either directly, when the attacks occur between known individuals, or indirectly, when they attack anyone they consider representative of those they are against – them, not us. Those who commit hate crimes, terrorists, bigots, religious fundamentalists or militant atheists. They troll, they mob, they bully and they attack.

The political anti

In democratic societies politicians frequently define themselves by saying what and who they are against (the opposition). “We will fight….” Well, what and who are they going to fight? The other guys….whoever they are, and whatever they say.

The medical anti

Fight this disease, fight that disease, eliminate this, eliminate that, control this, control that……The drugs our doctors use are usually anti-something….antibiotics, antihypertensives, anti-inflammatories, antidepressants, antispasmodics…..They control or suppress disease or disorder, but they do not directly stimulate, support or maintain health. They are aimed at disease, not aimed at resilience, vitality, adaptability or wellness.

OK, if you want to be an anti, my question for you is what are you FOR?

I’d like to know, all you fight this, fight that people, what would you promote, what do you believe in, how would you like to make the world a better place by the positives you have to offer. What solutions do you propose to which problems? What is your vision of a wonderful world? Persuade me. Share your great ideas for how we can ALL have better lives. Enthuse me with your passion for what you are FOR, not what you are against.

Can you do that?

OK, so I’m getting older and I guess I’ve reached that age where I think some things aren’t as good as they were. In particular I’m concerned that the practice of Medicine has become more technical and less human. So, it wasn’t really a surprise to read the details of a study which measured how much time doctors were spending on different activities through their day. The details however are, frankly, shocking.

The study of first year internists at two of Baltimore’s largest academic medical centers, showed that the doctors spent 12% of their time examining and talking to patients, and 40% at a computer.

Now, I reckon only just a tenth of your working time as a doctor spent in direct face-to-face work with patients is surprisingly low, but to be spending almost four times as much time at the computer as you spend with patients?!

Here’s what the researchers thought about their study –

“One of the most important learning opportunities in residency is direct interaction with patients,” says Lauren Block, M.D., M.P.H., a clinical fellow in the Division of General Internal Medicine at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine and leader of the study published online in the Journal of General Internal Medicine. “Spending an average of eight minutes a day with each patient just doesn’t seem like enough time to me.” “Most of us went into medicine because we love spending time with the patients. Our systems have squeezed this out of medical training,” says Leonard Feldman, M.D., the study’s senior author and a hospitalist at The Johns Hopkins Hospital (JHH).

The researchers are concerned that the trainee doctors aren’t getting enough time in direct patient care to learn their trade. But worse than that, what are they learning about the way to work as doctors?

Although this isn’t a perspective expressed by the authors, I do wonder if the whole drive towards a mechanistic, reductionist approach to health, coupled with a shift in emphasis from patient experience to group-based statistics, isn’t partly to blame for this finding.

Isn’t it time to organise the practice of Medicine in way which would allow doctors to spend most of their time talking to, examining or directly caring for, or treating, their patients?

cylces and seasons

overhead on the train on my morning commute (two businessmen chatting)

“I saw the first butterfly in the garden yesterday”

“And two bumble bees”

“I saw a bee too, but no butterflies yet”

 

Don’t know, but its not the kind of conversation you usually hear on the Glasgow train. Warmed my heart a bit though…..