I don't like masks

I don’t like wearing a mask.

It makes my face hot and gets snagged on my whiskers. It tickles my nose. My glasses get fogged up when I wear them. I can’t see the facial expressions of others who are wearing masks. I really enjoyed my surgery rotation in medical school except for having to wear a mask for hours at a time in the operating room.

But here’s the thing – it is one of the few effective measures we currently have to help keep from spreading a potentially deadly virus to each other. Masks aren’t perfect, but the mounting evidence shows that they decrease the spread of SARS-CoV-2.

We have all been wearing masks all day in our office for months now. I wear one whenever I am indoors in a public building, except occasionally when I am in a room by myself. I don’t wear it when I am outside unless I am in a crowd of some sort or visiting outside with particularly high risk people. So if I am working outside, or running or hiking or fishing, I don’t have one on but I stay away from other people.

Since we know that it is possible to have the novel coronavirus and not know it, wearing a mask not only protects me but those around me. In fact, the evidence suggests it protects others even more than it protects me. The person I walk by in the grocery store could have a medical problem that I can’t know about by just looking at them. Wearing a mask is an act of compassion. It is a tangible way to love your neighbor as yourself.

For 99% of us, wearing a mask is a minor inconvenience. If masks work, I can potentially help save lives by wearing one. An itchy nose seems like a small price to pay. If it turns out we were wrong and masks didn’t really help, is it really so bad to have inconvenienced myself a little bit in an effort to protect my fellow human beings?

Running Red Lights

There is a Subway just up the main road from our office and one day last summer I went there to get a sandwich for lunch. There is a traffic light almost immediately after turning left out of the Subway parking lot to head back towards the office. Sometimes I am a bit absent-minded and thinking about other things and I was most of the way through a red light when I realized what I was doing. Since the intersection was empty I proceeded on through instead of stopping in the middle of it.


Almost immediately I saw blue lights flashing behind me. My first thought was “Well that was really dumb of me. I hope I can just pay a fine and not have to go to court.” I pulled over and the officer came up. I handed him my license and told him I needed to find the registration.


As I rummaged around in the glove box, he asked me why I ran a red light. I told him I didn’t know, that I had just screwed up. He asked where I was going, what my job was, etc. After I found my registration, he looked at it and my license for a while. He handed them back to me and told me to be more careful. And that was it.


I had clearly violated the law and was expecting a ticket and a fine. And there was nothing.


This morning I read a story from an African-American professor who had not done anything wrong but was still detained because he “matched the description.” He spoke of his fear and how the incident left him rattled afterwards. His experience and mine bore little resemblance to each other. I was actually guilty and he wasn’t. But I was never frightened.


I know some police officers and I think the ones I know are good people. And I think I am a basically decent human being as well. But years ago I read some data about the differences in medical treatment of white children and African-American children with respect to pain control, etc. It was jarring and I began to examine myself. And one day in the office, I realized I had a white patient and a black patient with pretty much the same issue, and I had provided a more aggressive evaluation for the white child. I could rationalize why I did that. But there isn’t a good reason.


I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person. Both of the children were fine and the white child got more evaluation than was needed. But I think it does show that I am (was?) a biased person. Both mothers were worried about their children and I did more to allay the fears of one than the other. And only by knowing and admitting that about myself can I do anything to correct it.

Is this Covid Information Reliable?

It seems like every day there is a new video from a doctor claiming some special insight into Covid-19. I have a few thoughts about how to approach these.


I think it is important to remember that being a doctor can mean a lot of different things. If you have a sick three year old, I am your man. That is why I am here. That is what I do. But you should worry if you are sixty years old and possibly having a heart attack and I show up to take care of you. That is not what I am trained to do. I could maybe muddle my way through and help some, but you would have a much better chance with an ER doctor or cardiologist caring for you. For information on Covid-19, I want to hear from virologists, epidemiologists, and the ER physicians, intensivists, and hospitalists caring for patients with the disease.


It is also important to remember that even doctors in the same field can have varying levels of expertise. This can vary based on intrinsic abilities, where someone went to school, where they did their residency (or if they even completed one), whether they are board certified, how much experience they have, if they did fellowship training after residency, etc.


Some mechanics are better at fixing engines than others. There are some basketball players who are more likely to make a clutch shot on the last possession in the championship game. Some carpenters build a more solid house than others. Some people make tastier, more nutritious food than others. No matter what field you are in, I am sure there are people who you recognize as being more competent and trustworthy than others. In the same way, some doctors are better positioned to speak about Covid-19 than others. Being a doctor does not magically imbue one with wisdom on all things medical.


Medical progress is plodding. It is based on rigorous evaluation of data and attention to detail. I am not aware of any significant medical insights to ever first be released via You Tube or Facebook. They are much more likely to be on page 38 of The New England Journal of Medicine. Some of the videos I have seen in the past few weeks have some basic errors that are easy for other doctors to spot. So just be cautious about jumping on bandwagons, unless you are fine with me treating your heart attack.

Covid-19 and the General Pediatrician

I am not an infectious disease specialist, epidemiologist, or someone who works in the ER or ICU but I am certainly paying attention to what they are saying about the novel coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) and the disease it causes, Covid-19. I have seen some folks making comparisons between this and the H1N1 pandemic in 2009. I remember the H1N1 pandemic as being a busy time with a lot of sick patients and one child who was hospitalized with it but did fine. From my perspective, the H1N1 pandemic was busy but it wasn’t scary.


As a general pediatrician, my interactions with patients not infrequently involve flying saliva and mucous from uncovered coughs or sneezes or resistance to a strep test or flu swab. And there is always a toddler who grabs the otoscope right after smearing snot all over his or her face with the same hand. That’s just the way kids are and their innocence about these things is part of what makes it entertaining to be their doctor.


Sometimes after a child sneezes all over me, a parent will ask “How do you not stay sick?” My half-joking answer is that “I wash my hands a lot and get a flu shot every year. And I have already been exposed to everything.” During flu season, I am exposed to influenza multiple times each day and have not historically been wearing any protective equipment during those visits. And I have never had the flu or, if I have, it was never bad enough to recognize it as such.


But to the best of my knowledge, I have not yet been exposed to SARS-CoV-2. If I do get it, am I going to be one of those folks who doesn’t even realize they have it while potentially spreading it to others? Or am I going to get really sick and possibly die like over 60 doctors in Italy already have? Like I tell 13 year old boys who want to know how tall they are going to be, “Come back when you’re 22 and I will tell you.”


Fortunately, children seemed to be mostly spared from the worst of this disease and for that we are thankful. And I am thankful that Augusta Health has been working hard to prepare for what may come and that across the mountain at UVA they have already been able to develop their own test which they are providing to other hospitals.


But I worry about my parents and my in-laws and everyone I know with medical issues or those with the highest risk of exposure from their jobs. And I worry about people who are losing their livelihoods and the folks I know here and in other parts of the world who are wondering how they are going to feed their families if they can’t work.


So we prepare for the worst while we hope for the best. We take a walk, exercise, or pray to alleviate our anxiety while still maintaining vigilance. We don’t hug our loved ones or even see them face-to-face just in case, but we stay connected as best we can. We recognize the value in each person we meet and do our best not to put them at risk. And we continue to care for each other’s needs – physical, emotional, medical, and spiritual. And I think that is all we can do.

In praise of car seats and helmets (but not kneepads)

Over the past few years, I have become a fan of Jonathan Haidt’s books. I have read The Happiness Hypothesis and The Righteous Mind (twice) and they have helped me understand myself and others better. Last night I finished reading The Coddling of the American Mind which he co-wrote with Greg Lukianoff.

This book has a lot of information which is pertinent for folks raising children as well as those of us advising folks who are and much of it resonates with me. But I want to focus here on what they refer to as “safetyism.” That is, the normal impulse to try and protect our kids, but taken to extremes. They point out that children need to have free, unsupervised play, take risks, and to experience disappointment, injury, losing, conflicts, etc. in order to be able to navigate those things as they get older. If we always rush to protect them, they will never develop the skills needed to navigate the world as adults. Children who never experience adversity lack resilience and are prone to anxiety when faced with the real world.

Some people in my generation are fond of saying things like “We never used seat belts and bike helmets and we survived.” That is not what Haidt and Lukianoff are saying. The reason some of us can make statements like that is that the folks who didn’t survive aren’t around to disagree. The book points out that “from 1960 to 1990, there was a 48% reduction in deaths from unintended injuries and accidents among kids between five and fourteen years of age, and a 57% drop in deaths of younger kids (ages one to four)” due to more safety measures for children. We obviously want fewer children to die so they are not advocating going back to no seat belts, car seats, or bike helmets.

Some risk is good and builds resilience but too much can be dangerous. So how do we navigate this as parents, grandparents, teachers, pediatricians, lawmakers, etc.? Everyone has different tolerance of risk and some people’s environments are more risky than others.

One way I approach this with my patients is to say something like this when I recommend helmets for bicycles, skateboards, etc.: “If you fall off your bike and break your arm, it will hurt but it will heal up and you will be OK. But if you fall and hit your head and damage your brain, it could cause trouble the rest of your life because brains don’t heal very well.”

I think a healthy childhood includes bruised shins, bike helmets, scraped knees, seat belts, and the occasional minor fracture.

This is how I make sense of it but I welcome other perspectives.

The Little Things

“This is a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before.”

-Maya Angelou

 

Every job, vocation, profession, and calling has its challenges, headaches, and days that make one wonder what they were thinking when they pursued the career path in question. Pediatrics is no exception. But among the occasional frustrations, there is much for which to be grateful:

·         Finding the perfect sticker for the child who loves trains or kittens or Paw Patrol

·         Celebrating with the big, but scared teenager after he was able to receive his shots without incident

·         The intellectual satisfaction of a diagnosis made and effective treatment given, especially if the condition is a bit obscure

·         Hugs from children in the office hallway, grocery store, or post office

·         Seeing the child of a former patient and reminiscing with the (now) mother and grandmother about something that happened twenty years ago

·         Babies who smile and coo at you or determinedly try to grab your stethoscope

·         A child who is comfortable enough to tell you what is bothering her

·         Being able to reassure a worried parent

·         The fact that some diseases which were common when I started in practice have all but disappeared.

·         Discussing books, drama, baseball games, and fishing spots with patients

·         The child who says “Siri, where is Dr. Sauder?” while waiting in the exam room

·         A parent or grandparent telling a story of an event you shared that had a lasting impact

·         Connecting with a child with gestures and stickers when you don’t speak the same language

·         The satisfaction of popping a dislocated elbow back into place or retrieving a bead or rock from a nose or an ear

·         Discussing an interesting case with colleagues

·         Congratulating a patient who has made a healthy lifestyle change

·         Hearing that a patient uses their doctor kit at home to pretend to be me

·         Seeing someone walking down the street who you know could have easily died in the past

·         Dedicated parents, grandparents, foster parents, and others who do their best to help children with difficult medical and psychosocial needs

·         The moment a patient realizes my wife is his math teacher or the former student of hers who asks “So how’s Mrs. Sauder doing?”

For these reasons and many other things, I am thankful to be able to do what I do. Thank you for letting us (me) participate in the care of your children.

Dangerous Stories

Stories can be inspiring and entertaining and help us understand the world around us. But if simply accepted uncritically, anecdotes can also mislead is in major ways. Medical information is not exempt from this type of misdirection.

One reason stories can mislead us is they may simply be false from the outset. Some of the more outlandish stories I have heard from patients are “The HPV vaccine makes you walk backwards” and “The flu shot contains microchips so the government can track you.” These are obviously false on so many levels that they are almost comical. But they are also real concerns that people have based on false information being spread on social media and elsewhere.

Another way that stories can mislead us that our recollection of events is notoriously inaccurate. I once saw a new patient for the first time and the father told me they had left his previous doctor because he had given them an MMR vaccine and caused his child to have autism. Fortunately, I had the records from his previous physician to review and it was obvious that the child had developmental problems long before receiving the MMR vaccine and that there was a different explanation for his difficulties. I don’t think the father lied to me. I think he believed the story he told me. It just didn’t match up with the evidence. But without having the other information available, one could have been easily misled by the story.

It is common for folks to have memories that diverge significantly from the written record. This has happened to me as a patient as well as I have misremembered things about my own medical history. And I have had patients tell me detailed stories about myself in certain situations, only to discover when I checked the record of the event that I wasn’t even there.

A final way that stories can mislead is that we tend to connect dots that aren’t necessarily connected. Many years ago I had an infant patient who did not show up for his check-up where he would have received multiple vaccines. Tragically, the night after his missed appointment, he died. Now imagine he had showed up, we had given him vaccines, and then he died later that same day. I think it is inevitable that someone would have reached the “obvious” conclusion that his vaccines killed him, even though we know that wasn’t the case.

Anecdotes can be the first step in uncovering important information. But accepting a story without digging into it and collecting data in a way that is as objective as possible can lead us astray and cause us to make decisions which have dangerous consequences down the road.