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I posted about Randy Pausch’s Last Lecture before.

If you haven’t watched it, please go do that now. You won’t regret it.

Yesterday morning Amazon delivered a copy of the book of the lecture. I had decided on the spur of the moment to make the most of the long holiday weekend and fly to Aix so I took the book with me on the plane. Finished reading it this morning. It was a GREAT read. Randy Pausch, for those of you who don’t know this story is a computer scientist who gave a lecture on the “Last Lecture” series at his university. (The idea of the “Last Lecture” is to deliver the lecture you’d deliver if it were to be your last ever). In Randy’s case, he was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer before delivering the lecture, so it really is his last lecture.

The lecture is about how to live life. How to live life abundantly. It’s a true inspiration. And the book covers the same ground but adds some other ideas on the same subject. I’m pretty much in tune with this thinking. I’m a positivist. In fact, one of my colleagues this week put it nicely “You’re ALWAYS bloody positive!” Oh well, hey, I took it as a compliment!

So what lessons did I take from the book that were new to me? The one that hit home was “Ask”. I’m not good at that. Randy tells a great story about going to Disney with his family and his dad saying how great it would be to ride the monorail train up front with the driver. He said to his dad that as he had worked as an Imagineer he knew the secret of how to get to do that and did his dad want to see? Sure, his dad said. So Randy went up to the driver and said “Excuse me, could we ride up front with you?” Sure, said the driver.

Randy’s dad was astonished but Randy said “I said it was a trick. I didn’t say it was a hard trick”.

Ask. You might receive.

Today’s BMJ carries three articles about the placebo effect.

Firstly, in an Editorial by Spiegel and Harrington, they discuss a paper published by Ted Kaptchuk and colleagues where patients with Irritable Bowel Syndrome were randomised into three groups – those who were simply observed, those who were given sham acupuncture, and those who were given sham acupuncture with an enhanced doctor-patient relationship. 3% of the first group got good improvements, 20% of the procedure alone group an 37% of the “augmented intervention group”. As the authors point out,

the doctor-patient relationship in the sham acupuncture only group sounds like a caricature of procedure based medicine practised under strict time limitations:the practitioners explained that this was “a scientific study” and they had been instructed not to talk about it with patients.

and

Clearly the group with the greatest relief of symptoms was the one that received not only sham acupuncture but 45 minutes of quality contact with a clinician. This contact involved questions about the patient’s symptoms and beliefs about them, a “warm, friendly manner,” empathy, and communication of confidence and positive expectations

This is a powerful argument for practising medicine with care and attention. As the authors say –

Perhaps the ratcheting down of the time that doctors spend with patients and our modern overemphasis on drugs and procedures is “penny wise and pound foolish.” Patients might respond better to real as well as placebo interventions if they were associated with a good doctor-patient relationship. Although the increased time and concern may enhance the effects of the placebo, it also changes the context of associations with the treatment—the doctor may enhance the effect of the sham needle, but the needle also becomes a reminder of the enriched relationship.

Here’s their “take home message”

We treat patients in a social and psychophysiological context that can either improve or, alas, worsen outcome. The meanings and expectations created by the interactions of doctors and patients matter physically, not just subjectively.

Human beings cannot be reduced to mere physical components. We are thinking, feeling, meaning-seeking creatures. Health care should be founded on that understanding.

Then, in a reflective article, Pittrof and Rubenstein, consider the ethics of using placebo. They make the point that randomised clinical trials of drugs vs placebo show real effects in the placebo groups –

Published evidence only applies to patients if they have similar characteristics to patients in the study population. Even if this is the case, their response can rarely be accurately predicted. This is one of the problems with evidence based medicine: often its application to the individual is under less than ideal conditions. However, where the study shows that placebo results in a response, when compared with baseline, then that is precisely what the study shows. It is possible to state with confidence that, were the conditions of treatment to be replicated as in the study, the patient would have a statistical likelihood of responding to the placebo, just as we can say that the patient is statistically likely to respond to the active intervention. There is thus a response whose cause is debatable but the response is genuine. On strictly scientific grounds no deception would be involved in referring to this response as an evidence base.

They also point out that full disclosure of information to patients should include a discussion of potential harms –

For example, when advising a patient about treatment for mild to moderate depression clinicians might explain that use of SSRIs may be associated with a higher risk of suicide attempts and that about 80% of the benefits of SSRIs might be attributable to a placebo effect.

and go on to say

we have seen many risk averse patients who would happily accept reduced benefits for much reduced risks.

In other words, if you were told that a treatment had a chance of helping but hardly any chance of harming you, would you choose it first over a treatment that had a greater chance of doing both – helping and harming?

If you’ve never seen this before, try it now. It only takes a couple of minutes.

This little exercise made me gasp. It’s a great lesson.

How did you get on?



loch sailing, originally uploaded by bobsee.

There’s something almost universally appealing about sailing boats. Even if you don’t actually like sailing, they are beautiful to see. They have a tall elegance and somehow capture the idea of freedom, pleasure and travel.
I’m not a sailor at all, but I do always find the sight of sailing boats enormously attractive. I wonder what else has this kind of effect? What else is so widely appealing and captures so much symbolically that it adds quality to a day just by being there?

Different views

Here are three photos I took on Sunday. They are all of some boats I saw moored at the edge of Loch Venachar. This first one, captures the mooring and the numbers which really caught my eye.

come in number 17

The fact the boats are numbered rather than named makes them seem especially utilitarian, doesn’t it? “Come in Number 17! Your time is up!”

This next one I took by zooming in on the middles of the boats. This emphasises their colour, their worn surfaces and their shapes. It’s not all that clear, at first glance, that these are actually boats.

green and blue boats

Finally, this last shot includes the loch itself, with all the reflections.

lochside boats

Which of these different views do you like best, and why?

The Royal College of Nursing in the UK has published shocking results of a survey of its members. They asked nurses about their experience of patients being treated with dignity in hospitals.

In total, 81% of those quizzed said they sometimes or always left their workplace feeling distressed or upset because they had not been able to give patients the kind of dignified care that they should. And 86% said dignity should be a higher priority.

This is quite stunning. Over eighty per cent of nurses claiming this means that not only are patients routinely NOT treated with dignity while they are in hospital but that most nurses are aware that this is a problem. One nurse said this –

“Patients seem to be becoming numbers not people. I am having to fight against what the system wants in order to provide dignified care to my patients.”

There is something seriously wrong at the heart of the NHS – staff need to speak up and express their concerns loudly and clearly. A health service is for the treatment of people – people at their most vulnerable. Its’ priorities should be PEOPLE – patients and staff – not those other artificially created targets and priorities, set so often by people who have no involvement in day to day care of patients.

Sunday



loch venachar, originally uploaded by bobsee.

How do you spend your days off?
Yesterday (sunday) I had lunch in a little restaurant on the banks of Loch Venachar. It’s lovely to be able to sit outside and eat. There’s something about the relationship between food and health that is so much more than the nutrients that food contains. The social setting and the environment both exert an influence. I think a lot of people forget about that. The way diets are described often breaks food down into its components – as if a component-centred view of life was ever rich or fulfilling!
A common feature of sundays in the UK is the sunday papers – a phenomenon NOT shared by the French! The sunday newspapers in the UK are typically BIG with many sections (most of which I suspect nobody reads!) – but if you were going to sit down and browse your way through the sunday papers, can you think of a better place to read them than outside with a lovely view like this?
(by the way, I don’t know who this couple is…..I just caught them on film)

Human beings are complex, dynamic, constantly changing organisms. To understand a single person you have to consider them within their multiple contexts – temporal, spatial, social, cultural and so on. Changes in any of these contexts can profoundly change our understanding of an individual.

Medicine tends to divide all illness into two types – acute and chronic. These terms have the flavour of being defined solely by time – acute is short and chronic lasts longer. But in fact, it’s not that simple. First of all, there is no definite period of time when an acute problem becomes a chronic one. It’s not defined in hours, days or weeks. And there is no transition point, where suddenly a problem is no longer acute, but has become chronic. Secondly, the same disease might at some time be termed acute and at others termed chronic. The taxonomy becomes confusing. There is even talk of “acute on chronic” where a chronic problem , temporarily becomes acute. Sometimes this is termed “relapses and remissions”, but you might think of it as really bad spells within an ongoing illness. In all these definitions, the assumption is what is important, definitive even, is the duration of the problem. The longer the duration, the more likely we will term it chronic. But this tricks our minds into thinking it’s just the same thing, and the only difference is how long the problem lasts.

Here’s a slide I made up to teach medical students and which I share with patient groups too –

acute/chronic

What this slide shows is a graph. If we move from left to right, we consider longer duration of symptoms. If we move from below upwards we consider a greater number of symptoms. There are two circles, one inside the other. The greenish circle represents the set of symptoms which are characteristic of a specific disease – say, for example, asthma. The yellow circle represents the set of symptoms which are experienced by an individual patient and are therefore not characteristic of the disease.

On the left we see the typical “acute” scenario. In the example of asthma, this might be what is termed “status asthmaticus” – a severe, life threatening episode of wheeze. Imagine a series of a hundred children admitted to the emergency department of a hospital with this problem. Almost all of them will have the same symptoms and signs. The variation (as represented by the yellow circle) will be tiny. Such a situation does not require much individualisation of care – they ALL need pretty much the same treatment. Although every one of those hundred children is totally unique, in the “acute” situation, that matters little. They all need the treatment which will open up their airways and allow them to breathe again.

Further along to the right we see the typical “chronic” scenario. Let’s say this represents a series of a hundred children who have had asthma for ten years. They will still all have a set of symptoms characteristic of the disease “asthma” (represented by the greenish circle) but now they will all have a great number of different symptoms and experiences of the disease (represented by the large yellow circle). Some, over the ten years, will have symptoms only when they run, others only in the winter, yet others only in the summer. Some will have found that sitting up in bed eases their cough, others will have found only lying flat on their stomach eases it. Some will have found a glass of cold water will set off a fit of coughing, whilst others will have found that only a glass of cold water settles their coughing. Some will become very irritable when wheezy, others afraid and clingy. In short, the more of the story you listen to you, the more you realise that every single one of these children is unique.

This is the key difference between “acute” and “chronic”. It’s not just a matter of time and we can treat all children with asthma the same way and get the same result. As time passes the individual brings more of themselves into the picture. We all cope differently. We all experience the world differently. We are all impacted differently by the “same disease”.

This is one of the ways the biomedical approach falls down. It’s been fantastic at developing techniques and technologies to deal with acute, life-threatening disease. But the same tools are not enough in chronic illness because chronic is not just long-last acute – it’s fundamentally different.

The management of chronic illness will always be inadequate if it fails to consider the uniqueness of every individual and focuses instead on the small number of symptoms which people with the same disease have in common.

As we move our gaze from the short term to the long term we need to change our focus and our priorities – from the disease to the person.

In essence, the longer term requires a greater emphasis on understanding the individual and tailoring a complex of interventions and supports to bring about the greatest benefits for every single human being considered as unique – not as just another example of disease “x”.

Happy-go-lucky

I’m a big fan of Mike Leigh, but although there is a lot of humour in many of his movies, they’re generally pretty dark. His latest movie, Happy-go-lucky, is quite different, yet it retains those essential characteristics of Mike Leigh films – I can’t quite explain it but he manages to make you both care about and squirm about his characters. But what they do more than anything else is highlight what it means to be human, with all the frailty and awkwardness that comes as part of the package.

Happy-go-lucky tells the story of Poppy, a Primary School teacher in London. She’s a single 30 year old with a totally irrepressible positive spirit. She’s smiles a lot, laughs a lot, jokes a lot. Even when she encounters difficulties she deals with them positively. At one point in the movie, she’s told “You can’t make everybody happy” and she replies that it’s worth trying.

My favourite scenes are the flamenco classes. Flamenco always moves me. I love its passion and its fire. The Spanish flamenco dance teacher whose class Poppy attends is brilliant – probably one of the best characters in the whole movie. You can see a couple of scenes in this Channel 4 interview with Mike Leigh –

I have a very positive spirit. In fact, I don’t really see the point in taking a negative attitude to life. I’m pretty sure the stance we take determines the experiences we get.

There’s an area of the brain known as the striatum. This particular area is affected by certain diseases (Parkinsons Disease for example). One of the odd things that happens sometimes when patients are treated with drugs for Parkinsons Disease, is that they can develop strange behaviours in relation to money – compulsive gambling for example.

Some recent studies using fMRI scans, have shown how this area of the brain (the striatum) becomes active when people received either monetary or social rewards

By directly contrasting the brain activities of the same subjects in relation to the delivery of social and monetary rewards, our results clearly show that social approval shares the same neural basis as monetary rewards, thus providing strong support for the idea of a ‘common neural currency’ of reward,” concluded the researchers.

Our findings indicate that the social reward of a good reputation in the eyes of others is processed in an anatomically and functionally similar manner to monetary rewards

The researchers point out that social status affects well-being, morbidity and even survival. They cite an old study conducted on civil servants in England which showed that the lower the employee in the hierarchy, the more likely he or she would develop heart disease.

How others see us, and how that results in our status within society is linked to our neuronal responses to rewards and punishments so intimately, and our nervous system is so linked to our immune system, and our endocrine (hormone) system, that it can actually be a life or death issue.

This shows why it’s important to understand a person, and a person within his or her social networks if we really want to promote health and deal with disease. Simply lowering blood pressure, or cholesterol levels with drugs, is just not enough.