"my dear Doctor Whipple..."

I was doing some internet research today when I happened upon some copies of the original letters written by Virginia Apgar (yes, that Apgar) to Allen Whipple (yes, that Whipple) concerning the formalization of medical training for perioperative care, into what would eventually become the Department of Anesthesiology at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital.




Now I don't know if it's just because I'm a dork (certainly) or because the players were such medical legends that getting a chance to read their correspondence (along with handwritten notes jotted in the body and along the margins!) feels like watching history unfold in real time.  Or perhaps it's just seeing that familiar address on that old letterhead--the correspondence below detailing the formation of a department where, seventy years later, I myself would train--that got me all goose-bumpley.   But certainly, there's a reason that these were called The Days of the Giants, and Virginia Apgar no doubt stood tall among them.




For more on Dr. Apgar, they have quite a trove of biographical information, pictures, and letters in the "Profiles in Science" section in the National Library of Medicine.  Definitely worth checking out if you're a medical history wonk.  Or just look at this picture of C. Everett Koop and wonder why people don't grow beards like this anymore.

mack cheats at air hockey


AND NOW THE WHOLE WORLD KNOWS IT.

the taller it grows, the lower it bends

I know I haven't posted a lot this last week, but here, just because it looks so darn mystical, are some pictures of my kids in a bamboo forest.




 




It looks like the freaking mountains of China in those pictures (and frankly, in real-life as well), but it's actually just the back edge of a cluster of homes just a block or two off a major road here in metro Atlanta, right near hospitals and malls and giant highrises.  Atlanta, you are one weird city.

(I'm just going to put this part here because, next to medical stuff, photography is quite possibly the thing I get e-mailed the most frequently about: the square pictures I post on this blog (but more frequently here) are taken with my iPhone using the Hipstamatic app, with the lens and film combo that come with the app itself--John S lens, Ina 69 film.  I've tried many, many other photo apps, and this app, with this combo, is still my default, because in my opinion it produces the best quality pictures in the right lighting conditions--ideally natural light in partial shade.  On a broader note, the advent of digital photography overall has turned the hobby from a fairly expensive one to one that, minus startup costs, is essentially free, and one that more than ever can be both personal and public.  As much as I like my "real" camera, until digital cameras start adopting some of the smartphone features that allow you to instantly share photos online, my smartphone camera is the one I'm using basically 95% of the time.  Because the best camera is the one you have with you when you want to take photos, right?)

Apologies again for the lack of updates.  To be honest, we are going through a little bit of professional upheaval at the moment--nothing catastrophic, but also nothing that I can talk about here very much here, so I'll just leave it at that for now.  I hope you're all doing well and that you're enjoying the tail end of your summer.

** Residents of Los Angeles!  Tomorrow at 11:00am your time (2:00pm my time) I will be doing a 50-minute live interview with Allen Cardoza and Dr. Melody Foxx on LA Talk Radio on their show "Answers for the Family," about the book and issues related to families and whatnot.  I don't actually know what we're going to talk about actually, so tune in, find out with me.  It's a live interview, right? THOSE ARE ALWAYS EXCITING, in that Christians and lions kind of way.  (It also looks like they post the audio for their shows afterwards as well, so for non-Californians, I'll get the link up here after it's done.  Unless the interview is terrible, in which case I'll just bury the evidence.)

up the creek, no paddle

On call at the hospital yesterday, I had a beautiful grand scheme: finish rounding on my service first, then afterwards, reward myself with cup of coffee and some breakfast.  I was just in the middle of talking to the last patient on my list and trying to decide whether I should get bacon or cheese grits (to be honest, probably both) when then announced a code overhead in the ICU.  Ten hours later, I had my first meal of the day, which was a handful of Twizzler nibs crammed into my gaping maw as I waited for the water to heat up for my ramen noodles.  I only tell you that because the old adage they tell people in medical school is true.  Eat when you can, because you never know when your next meal will be.

Anyway.  That was yesterday.

One of the things that I find wonderful about Atlanta (and while my heart will always be in New York I am not immune to the charms of the South) is how much public green space there is everywhere, even within the city proper.  Joe and I were trying to figure out what to do with the kids this morning--I'm still on "backup" call today and didn't want to stray too far, but Cal and Mack were acting like one of those nature shows where hatchlings turn on each other and eventually cannibalize the runt.  (Unclear who is the runt and who is the Alpha in this equation, I guess if I was interested in finding out I could have just let their youthful exuberance play out to its eventual gruesome conclusion, but I just cleaned the floor last week.)

Anyway, Mack has been talking and talking and talking about going fishing for weeks now, and barring the freedom to go to any actual fishing spots, I pointed out that we did, in fact, have a nature preserve about a block away from our house.  To call it a "nature preserve" is, in fact, a little grandiose--it really just amounts to a creek that runs a few miles behind a stretch of residential housing and listlessly spreads into a nearby duck-and-turtle pond--but it's close and there's water in it, so off we went.

There was a sign at the trail head with notations on various animal tracks (Bobcats? Really?) which I was inclined to breeze by, but of which Cal made very careful notation.





When we got to the creek bed, the water level was very, very low--I guess we've been a little minus on rain lately, and what little water there was amounted to a trickle of ankle-deep runoff with a few minnows in it.  No matter.  A stick with some twine and a pinecone tied to the end was all Mack needed to amuse himself for the next hour.







I think Mack was fully expecting to catch a fish, and I'm just glad that he didn't pitch a fit when his dangling pinecone failed to attract anything more than assorted natural detritus from the creek bed.  Cal did a little "fishing" too, but spent most of his time amusing himself by skipping stones on the water and playing with a tire swing that someone had fixed up down near the water's edge.  I think it would have been a little more thrilling had the water level actually been higher, but I think he had fun all the same.





Mack, looking admiring, then apprehensive.





So actually, that was pretty fun.  What I always tell people about New York is that there's so much to see and so much to do that you'll never get bored, and that much is, of course, true.  But to live in the metro area and yet have a nature trail and a creek a three minute walk from our front door?  For my kids, I'll take that too.


god bless the swedes

The real injustice of this week is that it's only Tuesday.  Oh my god, so tired.  Anyway, it's a really busy week at work, and since I'm on call this weekend so it's only due to get worse--however, to placate the voyeuristic and the design-minded, let me show you what we did with the family room of our house this weekend.

OK, so first, the before.  I don't have any good "before" photos, because who has time to take them, right? But here, for your viewing pleasure, are some pictures off the real estate website when the house was listed.  The notations were originally for Anna Beth, who I asked to lend a hand and fancy eye to the proceedings, but they serve as a pretty good general indication of how I felt about this room, which was that it was beige, tile-floored, and felt like a 1980's "modern" living room, which is to say: not very modern at all.  



Anyway, the former owners of this house were amazing and we're more fond of them than we probably have any right to be (seriously though, they are adorable), but an older retired couple with no kids has different living space considerations than we do. (Exhibit A: so many highly breakable things balanced atop so many other highly breakable and questionably balanced things.) It was a nice room they way they had it, and it has nice light both inside and out, but it just felt kind of beige and cold to me, and with all that tile, there was more than a little bathroom-y vibe to it all.

In my rich fantasy life, I thought of a lot of ways to warm up the room--replacing the tile floor with hardwood (or at least laminate) was one.  But we had a pretty tight budget to work with, and some fairly specific needs.  Mainly, we needed a convertible guest room.  Our house has three bedrooms and no basement, and therefore no dedicated guest space.  Granted, we've only had Joe's parents stay overnight up until this point, but remember also that Cal is getting into Sleepover Age and the desirability of an overnight rumpus room in which to put our Wii and contain the restless natives cannot be overstated.  So anyway, we basically needed a room where we could put a fold-out bed for grandparents; if the kids could use the room for recreation and chicanery the rest of the time, all the better.

Anyway, we worked on it this weekend, and this is what the room looks like now.




Again with the crazy rug.  I LIKE THE RUG, GUYS.  Originally I had gotten a jute rug for that area, but between the tile and the walls and the couch, everything just felt very neutral, and I just wanted something warm and vibrant to brighten up the room.  And if that rug looks familiar, it's because you've seen it here and here before.  (Yes, I realize there is still one moving box there by the door, but it's headed for Goodwill.)





A view from the other side.  I prefer empty space to furniture in general, but we needed something to put the TV on, and I insisted that whatever thing we got had doors to hide all the electronic detritus that lives near TVs (remote controls, Wii controllers, what have you). We have the TV balanced on a low open bookcase in the other room, and the sight of all those DVDs and wires flopping around in there is threatening to drive me slowly insane.  I blame too many episodes of "Hoarders" but the sight of clutter really makes me itch now--clutter behind closed doors, however, is still OK.  (The thing we have the TV on in this picture is actually a dining room sideboard from Ikea--Joe used his man skills to carve two holes in the back out of which to poke all our wires and connectors.)






Behind the couch and sitting area I put a little reading nook with all of the kids books, a furry rug, and some pillows to flop on.  Joe thinks it is redundant to have reading nook here when already we have a rocking chair near another pile of bookshelves in a different part of the house (we have what might be charitably described as a crapload of bookshelves), but I reminded him that READING IS FUNDAMENTAL and at any rate, I liked having all the kid's books in one spot, and on low shelves that they can reach.  I don't think I ever told you guys the story about how Cal once tried to climb up one of our bookshelves and ended up pulling the whole shelf down on top of himself (luckily there was actually very little in the bookshelf, which was a blessing but also probably contributed to the fact that it was so easy to tip over in the first place), but there you have it, Child Protective Services. All kids books on the low shelves, heaviest books on the bottom, strategic stabilizing brackets up top.  PHYSICS.




OK, anyway, I just wanted to show you guys what we had worked on.  It's not done yet, as obviously we have nothing to hang on the walls yet and clearly we have, like, way too many Billy bookcases (at present count we own six) but--there it is for now.

Tomorrow I have to present at our monthly M&M conference, which is always a wonderful learning experience but of course excruciating all the same.  To celebrate, or to at least appease, I indeed will be bringing in to work a giant jar of peanut butter M&Ms with the intent of quelling the seething masses.  Ask me tomorrow how that went over.

walking with the dinosaurs, with apologies to the BBC




I know it's unseemly for me to gush, so I'll just say that this video Cal made (I helped with the editing and some of the A/V) has a certain Ed Wood-ian charm.

a more perfect union

I was working on my Grand Rounds (about the ever-scintillating topic of perioperative antibiosis--a topic that I personally find engaging and endlessly fascinating, mostly due to the influence of Drs. Garvey, Prince, Lowy et al., but I understand most people find...uh, pretty dry) when a couple of colleagues steered me instead towards the admittedly sexier topic of the role of social media in medicine.  It's a topic that other people have covered much more extensively, and I daresay with much more eloquence and expertise than I; though I've personally been writing online for coming up on eleven years, in some ways I feel like Willy Loman, who built his little house in the middle of a field and later found himself surrounded by skyscrapers.  I'm not an expert by any means, and I'm not a pundit, nor do I aim to be.  But do I have any opinions about the interface of social media with medicine?

Why yes, yes I do.

Let me say first that medicine, above all fields, is slow to adopt change.  Sure, medical technology is evolving rapidly, but the culture of medicine, the technological change within our own ranks, moves at a glacial speed compared with other industries.  See, for example, the excruciating pace with which we have moved to adopt electronic medical records.  No other field in which the essential importance of recorded orders or observations, and the critical nature of interpretation error would be so inextricably tied to the the ability (or, as I see every day, the utter inability) to legibly hand-write notes with paper and pen.  And don't even get me started on dictation.  Or pagers.  Who else in this day and age still carries a pager?  I could go on, but at this moment I am chained to my dictaphone, hand-writing a patient note with quill on parchment while working the butter churn with my feet.  Fresh butter in an hour, guys!

But the fact that medicine is slow to change does not mean that the rest of the world will follow suit.  As we all have seen, the evolution of technology and how we use it has progressed at a blistering pace since I started writing this online journal as a med student in 2000.  The year 2000 was before Friendster and MySpace--remember those?  It was before Facebook and Twitter.  It was before YouTube, Flickr, LinkedIn, and whatever other incorrectly punctuated, problematic vowel/consonant ratio site has evolved in the last decade.  It was before blogs.  Really, it wasn't that long ago, but the Internet was a very different place since then, and as both the Internet and the way we interface with it has evolved, the learning curve has been steep, particularly when it comes to the world's oldest profession (no, not prostitution) dealing with the world's newest media.

In many ways, medicine is like the military.  It is a combination of a hugely public and yet extremely private field, and both are intensely scrutinized and regulated.  So it is not surprising that medicine has been slow to adopt (or to even acknowledge) the Internet.  Sure, the medical world has long viewed the Internet as an incredible repository for information--even the most steadfast of medical Luddites will use PubMed and be the better for it--but when it comes to social media in medicine, I think I'm safe in saying that at best, most established doctors think: why bother? and at worst, think that the personal and professional risk of engaging in social media is well beyond whatever marginal benefit can derived from it.

Do doctors have to have a web presence in order to do their jobs?  No, of course not.  Having a blog does not help me take care of my patient with the ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm.  Having a Twitter account does not help me intubate my patient with the critical airway.  In some ways, interaction over the Internet is utterly peripheral to my everyday life of taking care of patients and my family, and possibly a distraction from those essential tasks.  Medicine is about triage, and over the course of a busy day, with a lot of other pressing obligations, it's easy to look at something as seemingly frivolous as social media and think: it's not important.

But it is important.  Certainly it's important to patients, who by overwhelming majority, and for better or worse, look to the internet as a source of medical advice before seeing any of us.  It's important to hospitals and medical schools, who are finding out more and more how indispensable a strong web presence is from a business and marketing point of view.  And I'm willing to bet that young doctors-in-training, most of who are in that key 18 to 34 year-old demographic, think that social media is very, very important.  Look at this infographic from Mashable about how we interact with Facebook and tell me what you think.  You can decry it, you can shake your head in rue, but you have to at least acknowledge that this is the direction in which society is moving.  And then either bury your head in the sand and wish it away; or, as our training in medicine has taught us to do, you can observe and adapt your treatment plan.

Some medical institutions around the country have taken the stance that they will not allow their trainees to partake in social media at all.  And forgive me for being blunt, but: that's dumb.  First of all, most of our future doctors are already engaged in Facebook or Twitter probably both.  Most of them read blogs, some of them may write them.  So you can either ignore that, and place a blanket edict stating NO SOCIAL NETWORKING EVER, YOU KIDS DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU AND WE DON'T TRUST YOU ANYWAY SO SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP AND READ YOUR DAMN SYLLABUS.  Or we could start talking about it.  We could start educating our medical students and residents about what is appropriate interaction with social media, and what could be construed as unprofessional.  Instead of closing our eyes and wishing it away, we could start to be proactive and do what we were trained to do.  Educate.  React.  Adapt.  Here's a start.  So is this.  And this.

Let me just say right here that if there is ever anyone who was in the position to make mistakes with respect to social media in medicine, it's me.  Having come of age writing a blog way before there were conversations about this topic (let alone newspaper articles, lectures, or studies) I just had one thing, and really it's all that each of us are left with and the end of the day when the noise dies down and the dust settles.  That thing, quite simply, is common sense.  You can't tell doctors to stay off social media entirely, and many would argue (myself for instance) that you shouldn't.  Because social media has tremendous power for good.  Dissemination of quality information.  Access.  Building community.  Breaking down barriers between practitioner and patient.  Humanizing the practice of medicine, and humanizing the experience of those in our care.  But with the incredible power of social media comes great responsibility, particularly for those who see the human condition at its most vulnerable.  And we need to start teaching our young medical trainees, from an earlier age, about common sense when it comes to its use.

Because common sense is not obvious.  Sometimes it needs to be learned.  Now, as an attending, if I have a patient in the OR now who is desaturating, I instinctively go through a series of "common sense" steps to troubleshoot the problem.  At this point, it is ingrained.  But would it have been as obvious to me as a medical student, or even a resident?  Of course not.  I had to learn it.  Someone had to teach me.  It feels like common sense now, sure, but only through experience did it become instinct.

The world outside of medical school is changing, and it will continue to change over the next few decades in ways that we can't imagine.  The Internet isn't going away, and the way we interact with it as individuals is only going to get more fraught and more inescapable.  This is progression.  This is fact.  So  sure, we can hide or dismiss or disdainfully pretend we're above it all.  Or, we can do what we do best, which is to roll up our sleeves, learn for ourselves how to deal with this brave new world, and then teach a new generation of doctors to do the same.

yersinia pestis, redux




This is what I'm supposed to be working on right now: the slides for my grand rounds on perioperative antibiotics.  Only I can't do that right now, because I'm super-busy looking at listings of taxidermied squirrels on eBay.  LIKE, REALLY BUSY.


It is fabulous.





Oh, hello there.  And to you too, with the mohawk, over there in the boot.


The artist captured the look of grim determination in this squirrel riding the rabbit quite well, don't you think?  Look at the set of his little jaw.


I think this squirrel in the rocking chair is supposed to be leisurely crossing his legs, only squirrels legs don't do that, so instead it just looks like he's flashing his junk.


So you can see that while I would like to be making more slides about beta-lactam rings and the dosing schedules of fluoroquinolones, but...well, there's just so much John Rambo/squirrel hybrid fanfiction to write.


(As you were.)