Monday 27th NovemberFirst patient in was Jack, an incredibly anxious 14 year old boy with his even more anxious 42 year old mother. Over the weekend, Jack noticed a lump under his right nipple. It is about a centimetre in diameter and slightly tender.
This is
pre-pubertal mastitis. It is common. It is entirely benign. Unfortunately, despite the fact that it is common, there does not seem to be much public awareness of it.
This consultation was made very difficult because mother has not heard of pre-pubertal mastitis, and is currently being treated for breast cancer.
I had to reassure Jack and his mother that it was not cancer, re-assure both of them that it would go away and, most of all, address Jack’s biggest fear, that he was (as he put it) “not about to grow boobies”.
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A charming 58 year old man presented at the end of last week to one of my partners complaining of excessive thirst. The blood tests came in this morning. He is not diabetic as was feared. Surprisingly, he is in chronic renal failure, with raised sodium, creatinine, and urea, and an eGFR of 23. All these tests, when they happen to have been done for other reasons six months ago, were normal. He denies any problem passing urine. His BP was up a bit, but he felt entirely well apart from the thirst. Examining him he had a huge, huge distended bladder. One of the largest I have ever felt. It is probably a prostate problem stopping the urine getting out of the bladder, putting back pressure on the kidneys and causing the renal problems. He also has a history of heart disease.
All a bit technical but he needed admission. In view of the deranged chemistry, and the history of cardiac problems, I phoned the medical SHO rather than the urology SHO. This was a mistake on my part. But I had a bad experience once (well, the patient had a bad experience) with a patient with similar problems who went up to Casualty. They catheterised him and sent him home. He had to be readmitted the next day with serious renal problems.
The patient and his wife were with me. I spoke to the medical SHO. He was rude and snotty and spoke poor English. I was subjected to a medical viva. Did I know what the potassium was? I did. Did I know the difference between acute and chronic renal failure? I do. Did I know that the fact that his PSA is normal is irrelevant? It is not irrelevant, though not crucial to immediate management. The viva went on and on. The patients were looking embarrassed. Eventually I interrupted and told him that I was not negotiating an admission, I was phoning as a courtesy about a patient who I was sending in whatever he thought.
Hospital doctors sometimes complain that GPs send patients in without phoning first. I do not. My partners do not. But many of my colleagues do, because they are not prepared to be subjected to a medical interrogation by a junior and less experienced colleague.
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Tuesday 5th DecemberMartin is 22 and in his final year at University studying civil engineering. He has
ulcerative colitis, which was diagnosed three years ago, but has been quiescent on a small dose of
Asacol. Until last week when he presented with a flare up. He did not look or feel particularly ill, but he had been having bloody diarrhoea seven or more times a day, and once or twice at night. I started him on some Prednisolone. When I reviewed him two days later, he was worse, not better. He looked pale and ill, and so I sent him in.
And then a sorry tale. He was kept waiting in A & E for ages. He saw various nurses, but the doctor did not arrived for four hours. The doctor increased his prednisolone and said he could go home. Martin said he felt too unwell to go home. After a few more hours in A & E, by which time it was eleven at night, he was admitted. Having bloody diarrhoea is not much fun. Having bloody diarrhoea in an A & E department, where there are not enough lavatories is less enjoyable. Having bloody diarrhoea on the ward was even worse. A nightmare. The toilets were filthy. There was urine all over the floor in one of them. Martin told the nurses. “Not our job, we will get the cleaners on to it tomorrow.”
During the course of the night, Martin developed severe abdominal pain. He told the nurse who told another nurse who said she would get the doctor. Five hours later – yes, five hours – the orthopaedic house officer arrived. Bone doctor or not, he was coherent and sensible, and provided some analgesia and put Martin on a drip.
Martin was in for two weeks, during which time he saw a doctor on four occasions. A different doctor each time. The final doctor was the consultant, who discharged him.
He is improving. The high dose steroids are working. He is home, feeling dreadful, but relieved to be out of the hospital.
He told me this morning that he would rather die than go back in. It was the urine on the floor of the lavatory that really got to him. He said he had seen cleaner public conveniences in parks. If he gets ill again he is going to go to another hospital.
It is deeply depressing.
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I had a senior medical student, Toby, with me today.
In the old days, when we had the more experienced medical students, we would sit them in for a day, and then let them loose with a half a dozen (pre-warned and consented) patients and see how they got on.
Now it is very structured. They come from the medical school with a protocol of what we are to provide. This time the brief was for the student to assess a pregnant woman at home, and then report back to me on the state of her pregnancy, the impact it was having on her family life, how she was managing at home and so on and so forth.
This took a total of two hours, including travelling to and from the patient’s house. Toby did the job brilliantly. I had deliberately picked a patient with some social and other problems, and he picked up on all of them.
But it was pre-arranged, pre-determined, non-threatening, and non-challenging. I do not think it is the best way to do it. The big challenge of general practice is that you do not know what is coming through the door next. Yes, like any other job, much of what does come through is routine but occasionally and without warning, something quite extraordinary will present
The trick is to be awake when it does.
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Thursday 7th DecemberA particularly frustrating day.
I had a letter about Patrick this morning. You will recall him from
here. I have been trying to get him assessed by a Consultant Forensic Psychiatrist. Not because I do not know what the problem is. I do. And I know that there is no easy solution. I know also that there is a grave risk that Patrick will one day murder someone. So he should see the psychiatrist. Medicine must not only be done, it must be seen to be done.
I am being stonewalled. The PCT has refused to fund an out-of-area referral to an experienced forensic psychiatrist, but has given me the name of a local doctor who sees patients in this area with forensic problems.
Today I have had a response. From the local
“Community Forensic Service”, whatever that means. It certainly does not seem to encompass Patrick seeing someone who is medically qualified. The letter is signed not by a doctor but by a “Community Nurse” and an “Approved Social Worker.”
Let me quote, verbatim, their conclusion.
“Patrick does not meet the criteria for a service from the Community Forensic Team. The case has been closed to the SCATS team.”
On what grounds to they reach that conclucsion. Earlier on in the letter, the nurse and the social worker say, and again I quote verbatim (hence the odd grammar in places):
“The multi-agency professionals had expressed concerns of the significant high risk presented by Patrick based on his assaulting behaviour against his partner. He has very poor impulse control and despite having access to many different interventions provided by the Probation service, SCATS and others, Patrick continues with his assaulting behaviours. The Police reported that they had dealt with 30 crimes reports this year. In the past he has been alleged to have punched, kicked, thrown objects, attempted to strangle his partner. We believe that Patrick will one day cause serious harm to his partner due to his poor impulse control.”
I want this man to see a Consultant Forensic Psychiatrist. I do not think that is unreasonable. So today I have again written to the PCT asking for funding to refer him to one out of the area. And I have written to the community nurse and the approved social worker asking them what a patient has to do to meet the
“criteria for a service from the Community Forensic Team”.
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Two weeks ago, I arranged for Betty, an elderly lady, to be admitted to the local hospice for respite care. She has a lot of medical problems, in particularly leukaemia, heart failure and early dementia. She is not in imminent danger of dying, but Tom, her husband and the main carer, is on his knees. A week in the hospice is ideal, but brings with it one problem. The week comes to an end, and she has to come home. That will be on Monday, and I have been worrying about it, as has Tom. He cannot afford a private nursing home, there are no NHS nursing home beds and hospital would be inappropriate even if they would admit her, which they would not.
And then, today, I had a very upbeat phone call from one of the hospice nurse-specialists saying they were referring Betty to the
“LCP”. She thought this would be enormously helpful.
I had one of those moments that doctors often have when they meet something new. Do you nod wisely and pretend you know all about it, or do you admit ignorance. I swallowed my pride and took the latter course. This made the nurse-specialist very happy. She explained that the
LCP was the
Liverpool Care Pathway.
Tom does not want Betty to go to Liverpool, that is for sure, but I presumed from the referral that there would be a local branch.
The Liverpool Care Pathway for the dying patient (LCP) was developed to transfer the hospice model of care into other care settings. It is a multiprofessional document that provides an evidence-based framework for the dying phase. It provides guidance on the different aspects of care required including comfort measures, anticipatory prescribing of medication, and discontinuation of inappropriate interventions. Additionally, psychological and spiritual care and family support is included.
Oh dear.
The LCP is a key recommendation in the NICE guidelines for supportive and palliative care. It is an NHS Beacon project.
A Beacon project. Oh dear, oh dear.
"the care of the dying must improve to the level of the best" The National Cancer plan September 2000
I go along with that.
"Better care for the dying should become a touchstone for success in modernising the NHS" Sir Nigel Crisp
Hasn’t Sir Nigel been sacked?
If you want to join the LCP:
We strongly recommend that you:
• set up a steering group or working party
• link directly with your modernisation teams
• have the project integrated with your local Specialist Palliative Care Service and Palliative Care Cancer Network Group
• ensure that the LCP Implementer/Facilitator continues to achieve learning outcomes via the LCP Advanced Study Day
Steering groups, working parties, modernisation teams, implementers and facilitators…Oh! Joy.
Betty and Tom are in the commuity, so I looked particularly at
“Care of the dying pathway (LCP) Community”
as seen
here. It runs to seventeen pages, so it is a long pathway. This must be a voyage, not a journey. Take a look at it yourself.
Instructions for use:
1. All goals are in heavy typeface. Interventions, which act as prompts to support the goals, are in normal type.
2. The palliative care guidelines are printed on the pages at the end of the pathway. Please make reference as necessary.
3. If you have any problems regarding the pathway contact the Palliative Care Team. Practitioners are free to exercise their own professional judgement, however, any alteration to the practice identified within this LCP must be noted as a variance on the sheet at the back of the pathway.
Criteria for use of the LCP
All possible reversible causes for current condition have been considered:
The multi-professional team has agreed that the patient is dying, and two of the following may apply: -
The patient is bedbound Semi-comatose
Only able to take sips of fluids No longer able to take tablets
It is full of wonderful advice, but too long to print in full. There is a
five page tick-sheet protocol which includes:
Psychological/Insight support
Family/other
Goal: Family/other are prepared for the patient’s
imminent death with the aim of achieving peace of mind
and acceptance
• Check understanding of nominated family/others / younger
adults / children
• Check understanding of other family/others not present at
initial assessment
• Ensure recognition that patient is dying & of the measures
taken to maintain comfort
• Chaplaincy Team support offered
Religious/Spiritual support
Goal: Appropriate religious/spiritual support has been
given
• Patient/other may be anxious for self/others
• Support of Chaplaincy Team may be helpful
• Consider cultural needs
If I had to fill this form in, tick all the boxes, note all the variances every time I have to care for a dying patient, I would not have time left to see the patient. And please, please tell me how you achieve peace of mind about the imminent death of a close family member.
You read through this document and you feel mean criticising it.
It is the
Vera Lynne of terminal care. The media will love it. It is the modern Project 2000 approach to nursing care. Do not worry about the patient. Follow the protocol and tick the boxes. It epitomises the New Labour approach to a health care problem. Cover up the abscence of resources with a protocol laden glossy brochure.
The hospice have referred Betty to the
Liverpool Care Pathway. And they will visit once a day for a few minutes, tick all the boxes and phone me to say that Tom is tired. And Tom will continue to wipe Betty’s arse, and wash her soiled shitty underwear. The one thing that would help, and the one thing that the NHS cannot provide, and one of the many things that Macmillan nurses do not do, is hands on nursing care.
As long as all the boxes are ticked though, the outcome will be
deemed to be successful.
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Friday 8th NovemberOne of those rare, unpredictable quiet days. No doctors on holiday. Possibly everyone is Christmas shopping. We all had gaps. Catch up time. Some QoF work. And some gossip. Wonderful!
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I saw five patients today who are on statins, and they all had questions about safety, and memory loss and the "new statin" that has turned out to be dangerous. I worry about this more and more. I ask myself, how much do I REALLY know about the efficacy and safety of these drugs? I am merely the victim of the latest reseach paper.
Pfizer’s next big drug for heart disease (torcetrapib which was slated to replace Lipitor) has bombed in trials, causing sufficient deaths that the trials have been ended early and development has been stopped. This is obviously dreadful news for Pfizer, and I assume that the stock will be well done on Monday. But that’s how the pharma business is supposed to work—big bets on new blockbusters may not pan out, but others will do so. (Matthew Holt)
Statins are big business. Very big business.
An academic colleague in the Southern Hemisphere sends me regular updates on the dangers of statins. He draws my attention to this:
Frank Cooper - author of "Cholesterol and the French Paradox".
France is a nation of 62,000,000 people who have been eating foods high in saturated fats and cholesterol for a long time, and yet they enjoy very low levels of heart disease. Frank will explain how the French eat 3 times as much fat and cholesterol as Americans yet have 1/3 the deaths from heart attacks. (Source)
Popular medicine, maybe. But can someone explain it to me? Then I can explain it to my patients.
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Since it was so quiet, apropos of nothing, I took my four children to see
Casino Royale last night. Loved it. As did they. Rattling good yarn. But one thing baffled me. The film’s classification. In the UK, it is a
12a. That means that anyone may see it, but children under twelve must be accompanied by an adult. I am not a fan of censorship and would not have a problem if films were not censored at all, but if we are going to censor them, or give guidance, how can a film the shows a naked man sitting in a chair with a hole in it having his scrotum beaten by a sadist with a knotted rope be deemed suitable for an eight year old?
(For readers using an RSS feed : this post is updated and expanded on a daily basis from Monday to Saturday)