Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Eminence or evidence, or how not to look like a fool when reporting your own data

A study presented a the ICAAC meeting was reported by the Family Practice News that piqued my interest. Firstly, it is a study on C. difficile infection treatment, and secondly it is counter to the evidence that has accumulated to date. So, I read the story very carefully, as, alas, the actual study presentation does not appear to be available.

Before I launch into the deconstruction of the data, I need to state that I do have a potential conflict of interest here. I am very involved in the CDI research from the health services and epidemiology perspective. But equally importantly, I have received research and consulting funding from ViroPharma, the manufacturer of oral Vancocin that is used to treat severe CDI.

And here is an important piece of background information: the reason the study was done. The recent evidence-based guideline on CDI developed jointly by SHEA and IDSA recommends initial treatment with metronidazole in the case of an infection that does not meet severe criteria, while advocating the use of vancomycin for severe disease. We will get into the reasons for this recommendation below.  

OK, with that out of the way, let us consider the information at hand.

My first contention is that this is a great example of how NOT to conduct a study (or how not to report it , or both). The study was a retrospective chart review at a single VA hospital in Chicago. All patients admitted between 1/09 and 3/10 who had tested positive for C. difficile toxin were identified and their hospitalizations records reviewed. A total of 147 patients were thus studied, of whom 25 (17%) received vancomycin and 122 (83%) metronidazole. It is worth mentioning that of the 122 initially treated with vancomycin, 28 (23%) were switched over to metronidazole treatment. The reasons for the switch as well as their outcomes remain obscure.

The treatment groups were stratified based on disease severity. Though the abstract states that severity was judged based on "temperature, white blood cell count, serum creatinine , serum albumin, acute mental status changes, systolic blood pressure<90, requirement for pressors," the thresholds for most of these variables are not stated. One can only assume that this stratification was done consistently and comported with the guideline.

Here is how the severity played out:

Nowhere can I find where those patients who were switched from metronidazole to vancomycin fell in these categories. And this is obviously important.

Now, for the outcomes. Those assessed were "need for colonoscopy, presence of pseudomembranes, adynamic ileus, recurrence within 30 days , reinfection > 30 days post therapy, number of recurrences >1, shock, megacolon, colon perforation, emergent colectomy, death." But what was reported? The only outcome to be reported in detail is recurrence in 30 days. And here is how it looks:

The other outcomes are reported merely as "M was equivalent to V irrespective of severity of illness (p=0.14). There was no difference in rate of recurrence (p= 0.41) nor in rate of complications between the groups (p=0.77)."
What the heck does this mean? Is the implication that the p-value tells the whole story? This is absurd! In addition, it does not appear to me from the abstract or the FPC report as if the authors bothered to do any adjusting for potential confounders. Granted, their minuscule sample size did not leave much room for that, but a lack of attempt alone invalidates the conclusion.

Oh, but if this were only the biggest of the problems! I'll start with what I think is the least of the threats to validity and work my way to the top of that heap, skipping much in the middle, as I do not have the time and the information available is full of holes. First, in any observational study of treatment there is a very strong possibility of confounding by indication. I have talked about this phenomenon previously here. I think of it as a clinician noticing something about the patient's severity of illness that does not manifest as a clear physiologic or laboratory sign, yet is very much present. A patient with this characteristic, although looking to us on paper much like one without a disease that is that severe, will be treated as someone at a higher threat level. In this case it may translate into treatment with vancomycin of patients who do not meet our criteria for severe disease, but nevertheless are severely ill. If present, this type of confounding blunts the observed differences between groups.

The lack of adjustment for potential confounding of any sort is a huge issue that negates any possibility of drawing a valid conclusion. Simply comparing groups based on severity of CDI does not eliminate the need to compare based on other factors that may be related to both the exposure and the outcome. This is pretty elementary. But again, this is minor compared to the fatal flaw.

And here it is, the final nail in the coffin of this study for me: sample size and superiority design. Firstly, the abstract and the write-up say nothing of what the study was powered to show. At least if this information had been available, we could make slightly more sense out of the p-values presented. But, no, this is nowhere to be found. As we all know, finding statistical significance is dependent on the effect size and variation within the population: the smaller the effect size and the greater the variation, the more subjects are needed to show a meaningful difference. Note, I said meaningful, NOT significant, and this they likewise neglect. What would be a clinically meaningful difference in the outcome(s)? Could 11% difference in recurrence rates be clinically important? I think so. But it is not statistically significant, you say! Bah-humbug, I say, go back and read all about the bunk that p-values represent!

One final issue, and this is that a superiority study is the wrong design here, in the absence of a placebo arm. In fact, the appropriate design is a non-inferiority study, with a very explicit development of valid non-inferiority margins that have to be met. It is true that a non-inferiority study may signal a superior result, but only if it is properly designed and executed, which this is not.

So, am I surprised that the study found "no differences" as supported by the p-values between the two treatments? Absolutely not. The sample size, the design and other issues touched on above preclude any meaningful conclusions being made. Yet this does not seem to stop the authors from doing exactly that, and the press from parroting them. Here is what the lead author states with aplomb:
              "There is a need for a prospective, head-to-head trial of these two medications, but I’m not sure who’s going to fund that study," Dr. Saleheen said in an interview at the meeting, which was sponsored by the American Society for Microbiology. "There is a paucity of data on this topic so it’s hard to say which antibiotic is better. We’re not jumping to any conclusions. There is no fixed management. We have to individualize each patient and treat accordingly."
OK, so I cannot disagree with the individualized treatment recommendation. But do we really need a "prospective head-to-head trial of these two medications"? I would say "yes," if there were not already not 1 but 2 randomized controlled trials addressing this very question. One by Zar and colleagues and another done as a regulatory study of the failed Genzyme drug tolevamer. Both of the trials contained separate arms for metronidazole and vancomycin (the Genzyme trial also had a tolevamer arm), and both stratified by disease severity. Zar and colleagues reported that in the severe CDI group the rate of clinical response was 76% in the metronidazole-treated patients versus 97% in the vancomycin group, with the p=0.02. In the tolevamer trial, presented as a poster at the 2007 ICAAC, there was an 85% clinical response rate to vancomycin and 65% to metronidazole (p=0.04).

We can always desire a better trial with better designs and different outcomes, but at some point practical considerations have to enter the equation. These are painstakingly performed studies that show a fairly convincing and consistent result. So, to put the current deeply flawed study against these findings is foolish, which is why I suspect the investigators failed to mention anything about these RCTs.

Why do I seem so incensed by this report? I am really getting impatient with both scientists and reporters for willfully misrepresenting the strength and validity of data. This makes everyone look like idiots, but more importantly such detritus clogs the gears of real science and clinical decision-making.

Monday, 19 September 2011

Adventures with American or Flying, American Style

So, we all know that the time for a doctor's appointment is merely a suggestion, not a mandate, as the doctor is hardly ever on time. We have even started of necessity to apply this theory to air travel. But to end up arriving 5 hours late and... to the wrong city? Well, this was a new one on me. Here is what happened.

I went to ICAAC for the day yesterday to present some of our data on predictors of a mixed skin and soft tissues infection. If it had not been a podium presentation, I would have considered skipping the whole meeting, since it was my son's birthday. Instead, I decided to swoop in for the day.

I chose American Airlines, as it is one of the few carriers that can get me to Chicago without a lay-over. The flight there was fine, and I had plenty of time to get myself to McCormick Convention Center, have lunch with a colleague, get to the session and do my thing. My schedule was such that I had to get in the cab immediately after presenting to get to my flight, which I did.

Getting to the airport was a challenge, as after 3:00 PM the perennial Chicago traffic jams are just a fact of life. But get there I did, with time to spare. The lines at the check-in counters were daunting, and luckily I was able to find a self-service kiosk, where I swiped my credit card. With a predictable automaticity I went to press the "Print boarding pass" icon when something caught my attention: this did not look my itinerary! I had been meant to fly to Bradley International Airport on the 5:25 PM flight. Now the screen was trying to push someone else's trip on me that went from Chicago to Bradley via Dallas-Fort Worth. Luckily there was an option on the screen to decline the itinerary as not owned by me, which I did. Alas, the second try resulted in the same baffling error.

A lovely young man with the American Airlines uniform on standing next to my kiosk noticed my confusion and asked how he could help. I pointed to the screen. He smiled broadly and sweetly and delivered the bad news that my flight had been canceled, and I was being re-routed via Texas, and that instead of getting to Hartford around 8:00 PM, I would be getting there well after midnight. The shock prevented me from stopping him from printing out the boarding pass. Before I had recovered my ability to speak, he furrowed his brow while examining the pass. Glancing at his watch, which read 3:30 PM, seemingly speaking to himself, he said "I wonder why they put you on a 3:05 flight when it is already 3:30?" As I was catching my breath, he continued "Oh, this flight is tomorrow afternoon!"

With these words my hopes of seeing my son before the end of the day of his birth hopelessly vanished. Yet I was not to be defeated yet. Although I was told that a later flight to Hartford was still happening, but was already overbooked, I was not ready to give up. Instead, I asked how close to Hartford they could get me on the same night. Turned out that there was a 5:05 to Boston, which was now going to be delayed until 6:30, but there was a coveted seat available and did I want it. Well, given my choices, I desperately wanted it, and luckily got it. So, now, instead of getting home by 10:00 PM I was looking at getting into Boston at a yet undetermined time, renting a car to get myself to Bradley, picking up my car from the garage there and driving home. If luck was with me, I would be home before 3:00 AM. Well, at least I would not have to go to Texas. Tomorrow.

Now that I had indefinite time before boarding, I treated myself to a latte and a book, Paolo Coelho's The Alchemist. It felt somehow luxurious to be suspended in this space without time, where I could just concentrate on the rich story and language and question my Personal Legend, though I was pretty sure that awaiting a late flight at O'Hare only to land in the wrong city and then drive for hours to get home was not it. Nevertheless, peculiarly, this departure from the rush of traveling felt like a little spa break, albeit in the midst of a chaotic throng craning their necks for the arrival of the aircraft.

Well, we finally were airborne a little after 8:00 PM, the flight was uneventful, I rented a car, got to Bradley before Avis closed (no, they are not open 24 hours), got into my car and got myself home just before 3:00 AM. All in all, it could have been a lot worse (I could have had to go through Dallas... today). And everyone was so frightfully nice, especially the young man with large brown eyes and a feline manner at O'Hare. The epiphany for me was that I could not even be angry -- there was no one or nothing to be angry at, and anger would have been disempowering, impotent. Instead, the lesson was that this is air travel in the 21st century -- crowded, uncertain, thoroughly unappealing. The only thing one can do, aside from avoiding it, is to accept it for what it is and go on. Though I have to say that being screwed is much nicer with a smile.      

              

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

So I got my son a tracfone...

Wanted to post some follow up to my absurd interaction with AT&T, the beginning of which can be found here. Briefly, all I wanted to do was add one more line to my family plan for $9.99 per month. Instead of making it simple, the web site demanded personal information (including my social security number) for the purpose of doing a credit check. Now, I already have a monthly family plan for which I pay over an order of magnitude more than $9.99, and on time. Yet now they wanted to subject me to an additional credit check. Well, I said no and wrote the post in question.

What was interesting and even encouraging to me was that I got the following comment from an AT&T customer service rep, and responded in kind:




attcathyw said...
Hi Marya- I am with AT&T and saw your post. We would like to assist with and answer any questions/concerns that you may have. Please email your contact information to one of our managers at attcatherinew@att.com and include your name in the subject line. Thanks.
Marya Zilberberg said...
Thanks to all of you who tweeted and facebooked (as a verb?) me about this post. My impression that there is growing dissatisfaction out there with the way business is done is being confirmed. I wanted to update you all on what the follow-up has been. I e-mailed Cathy (see comment above) yesterday. Last night I got this message from her coworker: "Hi Dr. Zilberberg, Cathy is out of the office so I am reaching out on her behalf. In order for me to research your wireless account further, I would need either the account number or the mobile number in question. In additionally, a good contact number for you would be great. Once I receive the information, I will partner with a wireless customer service manager to see what we can possibly do. I do hate to see the frustration in your post. While I cannot guarantee, I will do my best to see what can be done to provide the extra line without the credit verification. Of course we will not make any changes without your consent. Please email your contact information, account number or mobile number to me at attannellem@att.com and include your name in the subject line. Please provide a best time to contact you. Thanks and have a good evening! Thanks, ATTAnnelle M" OK, so again I am the one wasting my time having to contact yet another person because the original individual I was told to contact for customer service is not there? Wow! Nevertheless, this morning I e-mailed Annelle and let her know that I simply do not have the time to keep explaining the issue, and that unless she can do what I need without wasting my time, she should go ahead and let me know by mail. I reiterated what the issues were and also that this is a corporate culture problem that needs to be rethought in light of its ethical implications. Will let you know what happens.


The following correspondence ensued between me and Annelle (emphasis mine; numbers x'ed out to protect my privacy, which I am still interested in maintaining, despite Mark Zuckerberg's assertions to the contrary):

September 8: me
Dear Annelle,

Thank you for your e-mail. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to spend explaining (again!) what I need and waiting for you to see what can be done without any guarantee of the outcome. I hope that you see my point about the futility of a credit check for a $10/month line, since for the last 6 years I have paid my approximately $xxx monthly mostly on time. Additionally, no credit checks were necessary for the last x family lines added, and I was also able to increase my service by about $xx without a credit check. And this does not even get into the minimum $20 for the texting feature on my son's line -- one of my family lines has 50 messages for $2.99, but this option no longer seems to be available.

I realize that you are trying to help me, and I thank you for it. My cell number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. But as I said I simply do not have the time to spend on these endless phone calls with your company. If you can resolve something for me, great, let me know via e-mail. If not, it is fine, as I plan to visit my local AT&T store shortly. 

The bigger issue is how user-unfriendly this whole process has become, and it is your marketing executives that need to do some soul searching about whether this is an ethical or sustainable way to continue doing business.

Thanks once again.
September 8: Annelle
Hello Dr. Zilberberg,
I appreciate your candid response and your patience.  I know your time is valuable therefore I will keep this brief...
What kind of wireless device were you interested in for your son?  I know from your email that you want to keep your same plan and to place him on texting pay per use at a cost of .20 per text (incoming/outgoing, each are charged per text).
Please advise and I will continue to work on this end.  Hopefully you will not have to travel to the store if I can get this done for you.
Thanks so much!
Annelle M
September 8: me
Annelle,

Thank you for following up.
I want to get him a very simple flip phone that is free or very cheap. It does not have to have a camera or any other fancy features.

Thank you once again.
 September 8: Annelle
Good evening Dr. Zilberberg,
After great effort, I have found that ALL entities (including the store) will require a credit verification for new lines of service even though the monthly cost is not very great. The other option, without performing the credit verification, is prepaid. 
I know this is disappointing and I hate to be the bearer of bad news.  However, if you do consent to the credit verification, I can have a nice phone ordered for you son at no cost sent directly to your home in roughly 2 days. There are approximately 15 different devices available for new activations such as samsung solstice 2, palm pixi, sharp fx, pantech impact, samsung strive, etc.
Please kindly respond and let me know how you would like to proceed either postpaid or prepaid.  I will be looking for your response.
Thanks!
Annelle M
September 9: me
Dear Annelle,

Thank you for your diligence.
There is absolutely no way I am consenting to disclosing this highly sensitive information for a $9.99/month fee. Furthermore, my impression was that AT&T charges one month ahead, so there is no credit involved. Is this not correct?  
This feels like a frivolous usurpation of what is reasonable. And given the frequent reports of confidential data breaches, I am not interested in subjecting myself to this risk. I will have to withhold this portion of my business form AT&T and go with the pay-as-you-go scheme. 
Thank you. I would appreciate if this issue were brought to the attention of the management of AT&T so that a more reasonable policy can be developed. 
This was the last correspondence, and I purchased a Tracfone for him. Researching it made me think seriously why more people are not using it and why we continue to allow ourselves to be strong-armed by these mammoth corporations who in a purely Orwellian example of doublespeak want to convince us that handing over the reins to them is a good thing for us. Tracfone: no activation fee, no contract, no intrusive credit check, pay as you go, full texting, web and e-mail capabilities, reasonable rates. What more does one need, especially as an emergency use phone for a kid?

So, thank you, AT&T, I am eternally impressed with and grateful for your customer service.  

 
 


Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Supersize me, the AT&T way

File this under "etc."

I had one simple goal -- add a line to my AT&T family wireless plan for my son. I know, I know, I did check other carriers' plans and deals, since my contract with AT&T ran out long ago. But for various reasons I decided to stay with them. Why trade a known headache for an unknown one? Anyway, I went online with every intention of being finished in the space of 10 minutes. How naïve...

I wanted to get a basic plan, with just voice and minimal text messaging -- say 20 texts per month -- so that he can reach us in case of an emergency, but not abuse this disembodied conversation mode. And you would think that it would be easy to get this, right? Well, not so much. The only text option that came up on the screen was unlimited texting for $20/month. This was infinitely more than I needed, so I initiated a chat with a representative. He was effusively polite, and every time I volunteered information or responded to a question he thanked me very much for sharing this information. After several volleys, in which I thought I had conveyed my dilemma clearly and succinctly, he came back with "So, if I am understanding you correctly, you wish to change the text messaging plan on your phone." I did a rapid-fire "No, no, no," trying to get ahead of his rogue fingers as I imagined them poised to hit "change plan." You see, I am still traumatized from a recent experience with the cordial AT&T customer service representatives who "helped" me with an issue.

Just to give you the flavor for that episode, in the process of resolving a signal issue, they implemented such changes in my texting and data plans as to require several weeks of phone calls with the AT&T business office, a call and a correspondence with the Attorney General of Massachusetts, and a follow-up call with AT&T on the heels of their communication with the AG. So, no, I am not interested in having them "help" me with plan changes. I politely excused myself from the chat and decided to tackle it on my own.

But first I chose to distract myself from the problem at hand by doing another task that I had meant to do: increase my monthly minutes. This I was able to do without any glitches, and my success encouraged me to try again with the new line. Perhaps I missed something the first time?

Having considered my choices at this point, I made the decision that I would pay for a limited number of text messages for my son, at $.20/message, and this would take care of things. Smugly congratulating myself on such a creative solution, I went to complete the purchase. After addressing just a couple of minor issues stemming from the fact that my billing address is a PO Box and not a street address, and because lately everyone except the USPS has decided that I have played a joke on them by giving a non-existent address (don't get me started on the joys of living in rural America), I was almost home. I just needed to input my credit card information and... Wait a second! What's this? A credit check consent? I had to give them my social security number and consent to a credit check? Because I tacked an additional $9.99 monthly service fee to my (much larger than that) bill? After being a customer for nearly 6 years? After being able to up my monthly minutes by more than $9.99/month, without being subjected to a credit check?!!

Well, I did what anyone in my position would have done: I ignored this prompt hoping that it was optional. But it wasn't. Fill it in or else take yourself to a brick-and-mortar store to get this settled. Which is what I am choosing to do. But there is a larger moral here.

How did we get to this place, where our anti-trust protections have resulted in basically two gargantuan corporations essentially screwing the public in any way they see fit? Why do they get to dictate the devices and services that I need to purchase? How is this a free market? And how is it that this technology, whose intent is to make our lives so much easier, made me go through a bewildering amount of useless machinations only to end up with what? An offer to take my social security number and subject me to a credit check? Really?

And lest AT&T feel singled out by my rant, this is the trend with many events and purchases in life. Home insurance, for example, which, despite rising premiums, does not give you a penny towards rebuilding a retaining wall that collapses in a flood. In fact, the system is set up in such a way as to require you to file a claim, get it rejected and give the company the reason to fire you as a customer for filing too many claims. Health insurance (I don't have to remind you the galloping pace of the rise in those premiums), which covers less and less every year. Cable companies, computer manufacturers, automobile vendors, they are the ones that seem to know better than I what it is that I need, and they constantly and with impunity wrestle me into straightjackets of their packages. Where am I, the customer in all this? This old familiar strategy to maximize returns has been so successful in the food business that its legacy is the obesity epidemic, proliferation of chronic disease and shortening life spans. Is this really how we want to continue?  

I will get that line for my son, and I will get only what I need. I would prefer not to be so dependent on this stuff; alas, I am. But mark my words, there is enough bad taste building among my fellow humans to start exploring alternatives. I only wish that the government were really in the business of protecting its citizens from unethical practices rather than pandering to the highest bidder. I am ready to stop being viewed as a giant walking ROI potential, and start being respected as a citizen and a human. How about you?                

Thursday, 1 September 2011

You want to know #6?

Actually, it should really be #1. I am referring to the list I blogged yesterday of my top 5 reasons for rejecting a manuscript. The most important reason, which I failed to mention is...

... drum roll, please...

6. No "Limitations" paragraph
This is something that no manuscript should neglect, as every study, even the most well designed and executed randomized controlled trial, has limitations. So, in every paper that I write, my third paragraph from the end is devoted to the laundry list of limitations. And it should not be merely a laundry list, no. Each limitation mentioned needs to be put into the context of how it may have influenced the results, directionally and magnitudinally (oh, whatever), if applicable.

So, no limitations paragraph, no "Accept" from me!  

Wednesday, 31 August 2011

My top 5 reasons for rejecting a manuscript

Here are five manuscript transgressions that make me hit "Reject" faster that you can blink. The first four in particular do not instill confidence in what you actually did in the study.

1. Matched cohort masquerading as a case-control
This happens quite a bit with papers submitted to third and fourth tier journals, but watch out for it anywhere. The authors claim to have done a matched case-control study, where there is indeed matching. However, the selection of participants in the study is based on the exposure variable, rather than the outcome. Why is this important? Well, for one, the design informs the structure of the analyses. But even more fundamentally, I am really into definitions in science because they allow us to make sure we are talking about the same thing. And the definition of a case-control study is that it starts with the end -- that is to say, the outcome defines the case. So, if you are exploring whether a Cox-2 inhibitor is associated with mortality from heart disease, do not tell me that your "cases" were defined by taking the Cox-2 and controls were the ones that did not take it. If you are enrolling based on exposure, even if you are matching on such variables as age, gender, etc., this is still a COHORT STUDY!  It is a different story that this may not be the most efficient way to answer the particular example question, and a real case-control might be better. In order to call your study case-control, you need to define your cases as those who experienced the outcome, death in our example, making the controls those that did not die. I know that this explanation leaves a thick shroud over some of the very important details of how to choose the counterfactual, etc., but that is outside the scope here. Just get the design right, for crissakes

2. Incidence or prevalence, and where is the denominator?
I cannot tell you how annoying it is to see someone cite the incidence of something as a percentage. But as annoying as this is, it alone does not get and automatic rejection. What does is when someone tells me this "incidence" in a study that is in fact a matched cohort. By definition, matching means that you are not including the entire denominator of the population of interest, so whatever the prevalence of the exposure may seem to be in a matched cohort is the direct result of your muscling it into this particular mold. In other words, say you are matching 2:1 unexposed to exposed and the exposure is smoking, while the outcome of interest is the development of lung disease. First, if you are telling me that 10% of the smokers developed lung disease in the time frame, please, please, call it a prevalence and not an incidence. Incidence must incorporate a uniform time factor in the denominator (e.g., per year). And second, do not tell me what the "incidence" of smoking was based on your cohort -- by definition in your group of subjects smoking will be experienced by 1/3 of the group. Unless you have measure the prevalence of smoking in the parent cohort BEFORE you did your matching, I am not interested. This is just stupid and thoughtless, so it definitely gets an automatic reject (or a strong question mark at the very least). 
  
3. Analysis that does not explore the stated hypothesis
I just reviewed a paper that initially asked an interesting question (this is how they get you to agree to review), but turned out to turn the hypothesis on its head and ended up being completely inane. Broadly, the investigators claimed to be interested in how a certain exposure impacts mortality, a legitimate question to ask. As I was reading through the paper, and as I could not make any heads or tails out of the Methods section, it slowly began to dawn on me that he authors went after the opposite of what they promised: they started to look for the predictors of what they set up as the exposure variable! Now, this can sometimes still be legit, but the exposure variable needs to be already recognized as somehow relating to the outcome of interest (hey, surrogate endpoints, anyone?). This was not the case here. So, please, authors, do look back on your hypothesis once in a while as you are actually performing the study and writing up your results.

4. Stick to the hypothesis, can the advertising
I recently rejected a paper that asked a legitimate question, but, in addition to doing a shoddy job with the analyses and the reporting, did the one thing that is an absolute no-no: it reported on a specific analysis of the impact of a single drug on the outcome of interest. And yes, you guessed it, the sponsor of the study was the manufacturer of the drug in question. And naturally, the drug looked particularly good in the analysis. I am not against manufacturer-sponsored studies, and even those that end up shedding positive light on their products. What I am against is random results of random analyses that look positive for their drug without any justification or planning. So, all of this notwithstanding, the situation might have been tolerable, had the authors made a credible case for why it was reasonable to expect this drug to have the salutary effect, citing either theoretical considerations or prior evidence. They of course would have had to incorporate it into their a priori hypothesis. Otherwise this is just advertising, a random shot in the dark, not an academic pursuit of knowledge.

5. Language is a fraught but important issue
I do not want to get into the argument about whether publishing in English language journals brings more status than in non-English language ones. This is not the issue. What I do want to point out, and this is true for both native and non-native English speakers, is that if you cannot make yourself understood, I do not have either time or the ability to read your mind. If you are sending a paper into an English language journal, do make your arguments clearly, do make sure that your sentence structure is correct, and do use constructions that I will understand. It is not that I do not want to read foreign studies, no. In fact, you have no idea just how important it is to have data from geopolitically diverse areas. No, what I am saying is that I volunteer my time to be on Editorial Boards and as a peer reviewer, and I just do not have the leisure to spend hours unraveling the hidden meaning of a linguistically encrypted paper. And even if I did, I assure you, you are leaving a lot to the reviewer's idiosyncratic interpretation. So, please, if you do not write in English well, give your data a chance by having an editor take a look at your manuscript BEFORE you hit the submit button.

Friday, 26 August 2011

Botox and empathy: Less is more

I am kind of stuck on this whole Botox-empathy thing. A recent study from researchers at Duke and UCLA implied that people who get Botox to attenuate their wrinkles also seem to attenuate their empathic ability. Somehow their inability to mimic others' facial expressions impairs the firing of their mirror neurons and they top feeling empathy. Wow!

But think of it -- Botulinum toxin, arguably one of the most potent poisons known to humans, is being used essentially recreationally as a drug, quite possibly an addictive one. Who thought this was a good idea? OK, don't answer that.

To be sure, the same toxin in a therapeutic preparation can help people with paralysis release painful contractures, and this is a wonderful advance. Just as morphine is a terrific pain reliever under the right circumstances. But used recreationally? Everyone is aware of the havoc it can wreak, both personally and societally. So, how did we justify allowing this most potent of all poisons to be injected into perfectly healthy (and beautiful, I might add) aging faces?

File this under "Go figure." Another opportunity for "less is more."

Thursday, 25 August 2011

Side effects: The subject must become the scientist

A few weeks ago someone I know, a normally robust and energetic woman, began to feel fatigued and listless, and had some strange sensations in her chest. She presented to her primary care MD, who obtained an EKG and a full panel of blood tests. The former showed some non-specific changes, while the latter was entirely normal. Although reassured, she continued to experience malaise. When she fetched her EKG, she received a copy with the computer interpretation indicating that, in its wisdom, the program could not rule out a heart attack. Given that her symptoms continued, and now anxiety was piled on top, she presented to the ED, where a heart attack was excluded, and she was scheduled for a stress test. In the subsequent weeks the symptoms continued off and on, and the stress test turned out to be negative for coronary disease. Great, mazel tov!

What I failed to mention was that just prior to the onset of her symptoms, she had been started on 5-fluorouracil cream for a basal cell skin cancer. And while she did not commit my current device of omission with her doctors (including the dermatologist who prescribed the drug), all denied her constellation of symptoms as a potential side effect. And granted, when I looked it up, there was no mention of anything like fatigue and listlessness. So, does it mean that it is not within the realm of the possible that this drug was responsible?

Not at all. And here is why. Our adverse event reporting is essentially a discretionary system. Here is what the FDA says about their Adverse Event Reporting System (AERS):
Reporting of adverse events from the point of care is voluntary in the United States. FDA receives some adverse event and medication error reports directly from health care professionals (such as physicians, pharmacists, nurses and others) and consumers (such as patients, family members, lawyers and others). Healthcare professionals and consumers may also report these events to the products’ manufacturers. If a manufacturer receives an adverse event report, it is required to send the report to FDA as specified by regulations. 
What this means is that, when a patient complains to a doctor of a symptom, even when its onset is in obvious proximity to a particular medication, the doctor is not compelled to report it. The most an average physician will do is look up the known AE profile of the drug and at best look up its interactions with other medications. But one is not generally inclined to use one's imagination (and the constraints of the shrinking appointments spread across exponentially growing cognitive loads conspire against it too) to entertain the possibility that the current problem is related. And yet since many AEs are particularly rare, the knowledge about them must necessarily rely on scrupulous reporting by the prescribers into a central repository. This is what is missing: not the repository, but the impetus to report.

So, when we go looking up side effects of a given medication, we must take the information for what it is: a woefully incomplete list of what has been experienced by other patients. And when someone asks "Do statins make you stupid," instead of denying the possibility, we should just admit that we don't know. Because once drugs are released by the FDA into the wild of our modern healthcare, by relying on others' reports of AEs we become inadvertent enablers of our ignorance about them.

My friend's symptoms abated after she finished the course of the 5-FU cream. None of the MDs bothered to report her symptoms to the AERS, and nor did she. I am not even sure that any of the players were aware of the possibility. Oh, well, an opportunity lost. We need to feel responsible for gathering this knowledge. The subject must be empowered to become the scientist; this is the only way we can get the full picture of the harm-benefit balance of our considerable and unruly pharmacopeia.

If you want to report a possible side effect of a medication, this FDA web page will guide you through the process.

Wednesday, 17 August 2011

Counterfactuals: I know you are, but what am I?

It occurs to me that as we talk more and more about personalized medicine, the tension between the need for individual vs. group data is likely to intensify. And with it, it is important to have the vocabulary to articulate the role for each.

Scientific method, in order to disprove the null hypothesis, demands highly controlled experimental conditions, where only a single exposure is altered. While this is feasible when dealing with chemical reactions in a beaker, and even, to a great extent, with bacteria and single cells in a petri dish, the proposition becomes a whole lot more complicated in higher order biology. In this way, the phrase "all things being equal" must really apply to the individuals or groups under study.

We call this formulation "the theory of counterfactual," and it is defined in the following way by the researchers at the University of North Carolina (see slide #3 in the presentation):
Theory of Counterfactuals
The fact is that some people receive treatment.
The counterfactual question is: “What would have happened to those who, in fact, did receive treatment, if they had not received treatment (or the converse)?”
Counterfactuals cannot be seen or heard—we can only create an estimate of them.
Take care to utilize appropriate counterfactual
So, essentially what it means is figuring out what would have happened to, for example, Uncle Joe if he had not smoked 2 packs of cigarettes per day for 30 years. Now, our complexity as the human organism makes it impossible (so far) to replicate Uncle Joe precisely in the laboratory, so we must settle for individuals or groups of individuals that resemble Uncle Joe in most if not all identifiable ways in order to understand the isolated effect of heavy smoking on his health outcomes.

So, you see the challenge? This is why we argue about the validity of study designs to answer clinical questions. This is why a randomized controlled trial is viewed as the pinnacle of validity, since in it, just by the sheer force of randomness in the Universe, we expect to get two groups that match in every way except the exposure in question, such as a drug or another therapy. This is why we work so hard statistically in observational studies to assure that the outcome under examination is really due to the exposure of interest (e.g., smoking), "all other things being equal."

But no matter how we slice this pie, this equality can only be approached, but never truly reached. And this asymptotic relationship of our experimental design to reality may be OK in some instances, yet not nearly precise enough in others. We just cannot know the complete picture, since we only have partial information on how the human animal really works. And this is precisely what makes our struggle to infer causality problematic, and precisely what introduces uncertainty into our conclusions.

What is the answer? Is it better to rely on individual experience or group data? As always, I find myself leaning inward toward the middle. Because an individual's experience is prone to many influences, both internal, such as cognitive biases, and external, such as variations in response under different circumstances, it is not valid to extrapolate this experience to a group. In the same vein, because groups represent a conglomeration of individual experiences, smoothing out the inherent variabilities which ultimately determine the individual results, study data are also difficult to apply to individuals. For this reason medicine should be the hybrid of the two: the make-up of the patient can partly fit into the larger set of persons with similar characteristics, yet also jut out into the perilous territory of idiosyncratic individuality. This is precisely what makes medicine so imprecise. This is precisely the tension between the science and the art of medicine. Because "counterfactuals cannot be seen or heard," Uncle Joe!          

Tuesday, 16 August 2011

Medicine and the internet: Harnessing the yottabytes

What if medicine in the US is just like the internet? What if it is just as difficult to separate the chaff from the wheat in medicine as it is on the web?

Both the curse and the blessing of the web is its accessibility. This means that anyone's voice can be heard. And it also means that anyone's voice can be heard. So, we are just as likely to stumble upon drivel as we are on information gold. And what takes time and skill is separating the two into neat piles, one to be ruthlessly discarded, and the other cherished for how it enriches us. To be sure without the web we might not have had access to either, and it is the egalitarian nature of the internet that gives us such a variety of sources in our information diet.

Now, let's look at medicine. Every day we hear about how much noise there is in the field, and this noise is difficult, if not impossible, to separate from the signal. Some signals are becoming much clearer, and they tell us that by being too egalitarian in medicine, we have likely been causing great harm. Take, for example, PSA and mammography screenings. The drumbeat of harm associated with these highly non-specific tests and the resultant chase after false positive results, is getting deafening, and rightfully so. Every day we hear that researchers have uncovered a breakthrough mechanism or treatment, and we hear with increasing frequency that a treatment previously thought to be sacrosanct is a bunch of rubbish. What gets lost among all this noise is the possibility of a true breakthrough in disease management or treatment or cure.

Think how hard it is to separate general valuable content from bunk on the web. Now, think of the logs of increase in the levels of difficulty of this task in medicine, where difficult concepts are further shrouded in the opaque cloth of arcane and obfuscating terminology. In fact, it is so difficult, that the class previously designated as the interpreters of this information for the lay public, physicians, are unable to keep up. There is a need for a whole new class of interpreters now -- researchers and patient advocates. And while this is good for the market and the economy, since it creates jobs that had not existed before, it begs a more critical evaluation vis a vis its impact on public's health. It also begs the question of the value of this gadgetry and information glut in medicine -- what is truly the wheat and what is the chaff? And what happens when you continuously try to drink from a fire hose? And do we turn down the stream, or is there another way?

Is it feasible to limit this stream of idea and information generation? Furthermore, is it sensible to do so? Many worry that putting limitations on this is tantamount to stifling innovation. But what is innovation? The most pertinent definition to the current discussion in the Merriam-Webster dictionary is "a new idea, method or device." Nowhere does the definition incorporate the value of this idea, method or device. Perhaps it is left to the free market to determine this value and ultimate use of such innovation. Well, in a market that claims to be free, but is filled with cynical machinations in the form of favoritism, subsidies and pricing games, is objective value really what is valued? And indeed, given the complexity of these "innovations", is it even possible for the end-user to judge their value, even if the market were free?

Yet, even despite all these challenges to establishing the value of innovation on the back end, I am not sure that centrally limiting idea generation is either feasible or right. In the case of ideas on the web, I have come to the conclusion that such microblogging platforms as Twitter can be invaluable filters of information, where my network of favorite tweeters whom I follow faithfully provides me with the wheat that has already been cleaned, yet not always overprocessed. Is this possible in medicine? I know that the FDA and CMS are supposed to provide some filtration for such medical information and interventions, but each is statutorily handcuffed and gagged not to stray beyond their legislative agendas. Therefore, a value filter should not be a body beholden to the letter of the law, or to political or financial interests. It needs to be driven by the spirit of scientific curiosity, objective evaluation and pragmatism. Most importantly, it must be open to a conversation that incorporates respectful dissent and many different perspectives.

Twitter arose out of the drive to share information, and it has shaped itself as a tool for developing value in the gargantuan and ever-growing world of yottabytes. Perhaps it is citizen bloggers and tweeters, including e-patients and clinicians and researchers and writers and others, who will ultimately solve this information glut in medicine by extracting the kernel of usefulness from this morass of vegetation. Harnessing this power systematically and accurately is the next challenge of our information age.

Because ultimately, for human cognition and health, less is more. And we are still human.              

Friday, 29 July 2011

Quality measures: Process, outcome, or both?

In the last week I wrote about our quality improvement, or QI, efforts in healthcare. And although there is a burgeoning field representing itself as the "science" of QI, I question much of its scientific validity. As always, VAP is my poster child for these discussions, where neither the definition of the condition itself nor its prevention efforts are subject to much scientific scrutiny. This makes VAP have a surreal, ghost-like quality: now you see it, now you don't. And this alone makes it difficult to assess prevention efforts. Much as in the heated mammography debate, where passionate anecdote prevails, the sanctity of the QI rubric blunts the usual critical approach to the data.

So, the central point that I made in this post was essentially to devalue the VAP eradication efforts as not grounded in solid scientific evidence. What has occurred to me, however, is that this position may be in fact at odds with a realization I blogged about here and here, wherein I agreed with Dan Arieli's suggestion that outcomes in the real world, where they are influenced by so much randomness, are not the thing to reward. It would be much more rational to reward best efforts at best results, thus the process rather than the outcome. So, here is the apparent contradiction: On the one hand I agree that outcomes may be too unpredictable, being that they are influenced by too many factors that are not in our control, yet I am also advocating that we start measuring such outcomes as antibiotic use associated with VAP and its reduction. What gives?

Well, on the one hand, I am OK with contradiction; life is full of instances where we have to hold conflicting information and feelings together. But as a scientist it is my predisposition to analyze (which literally means splitting into smaller, more manageable chunks), so I have given this ostensible paradox more thought. What I came up with is that measuring process is the right thing to do, but only under very specific conditions. Avedis Donabedian, who is considered the father of quality science, introduced the triad of structure-process-outcome as the backbone of quality science. This relationship certainly lends validity to the "process" metrics as surrogates for "outcome." But the condition that has to be met is that there be an actual correlation between the process and the said outcome. If there is no such solid correlation, then we are simply going through the motions, doing a rain dance to cause rain.

So, what I have said about VAP prevention in particular is that we are nowhere near being able to say that the recommended processes correlate with any changes in meaningful clinical outcomes. And because the data on these interventions are so weak, throwing massive resources behind implementing them is irrational and resembles religious fervor more than scientific pragmatism.

It is entirely understandable that we would jump on this bandwagon so rapidly, given the magnitude of harm in our healthcare system combined with the need to reign in the healthcare spending. But there is a more subtle point to be made here too. It relates to the fertile soil of our American psyche, where doing something is always perceived as better than thinking about our course of action, which is frequently referred to with contempt as "doing nothing." In the end, this crisis response mentality is good in a crisis, but potentially detrimental in the long term: we are unlikely to be altering meaningful outcomes, and we are spending billions of dollars on interventions lacking evidence.

So, I stand behind both of my assertions and maintain that they are not mutually exclusive. Yes, outcomes are subject to much randomness; yes, processes known to alter these outcomes are the sensible measures of our efforts to improve quality; and yes, these processes need first to be rigorously validated for their impact on the outcomes in question. Anything short of this pathway is not just a waste of our collective resources, but a manipulation of the public trust. And that is as far from the intent of science as it can get.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Health surveys: Run the other way!!!

Sometimes when I get an unsolicited call about answering survey questions, I feel a karmic obligation to participate; after all, if everyone said no to everything, I would not have any data to analyze. So, for this very reason, I just got off the phone with a poor young woman conducting a survey who called me randomly. The survey had to do with healthcare delivery, and she had no idea what she was getting herself into. First, I queried her whom the survey was for. She proceeded to tell me that she did not have that information specifically, but gave me a general idea of who the customers tend to be. Then she launched into the survey questions.

Now, I realize that they all have to ask the same questions the same way in order not to bias the data. But man, who writes these questions? "What would you say is the reputation of the cardiac surgery program at thus-and-such a hospital in your area: a). good locally, 2). good locally and state-wide, 3). good locally, statewide and regionally, 4). good locally, statewide, regionally and nationally, 5). good locally, statewide, regionally, nationally and internationally, or 6). not good at all?" Well, what the heck do you mean by "reputation"? You mean what is the gossip about Dr. Smith in my community? Or do you mean what kind of care they provide in terms of timeliness, evidence, shared decision making, post-operative complications, what? Then came "if you or your family member needed a cardiac procedure, how comfortable would you be going to this facility? 1). very comfortable, 2). somewhat comfortable, 3). somewhat uncomfortable, and 4). not at all comfortable?" How the heck should I know? I have not researched all the local facilities, I have not checked on their outcomes, I have not interviewed all of their cardiac surgical teams (yes, including anesthesia), I do not know what their infection control track records are, and, most importantly, how willing they are to treat me as an individual rather than a source of income. And then, for every hospital she mentioned (and there were quite a few), she went through the same litany of meaningless questions.

And then she asked me if I am familiar with some of the well-known quality-rating organizations. And she included US News and World Report Hospital Ratings! And I don't even believe the CMS got it anywhere near right!!! Oy! What do the answers to these questions from someone who is not steeped in the data mean anyway? If researchers and providers have not arrived at the appropriate metrics for quality, how meaningful are the lay public's opinions on these matters?

And finally, a group of questions that let the cat out of the bag as to the purpose of the survey. She told me a story first, of a large regional medical center in the area building a new multi-million dollar state-of-the-art cardiac care facility. Sexy new equipment, individual patient rooms, targeted and individually-tailored treatment plans, all the buzzwords of the brave new world of medicine. And then she asks me would I be comfortable going to this facility. What am I supposed to say? I have no idea! How do I tell this poor child that the questions are written in an absurd way and smack of marketing? How do I explain to her that this facility will probably need to recoup their capital investment, and, therefore, has a conflict of interest when it comes to caring for me? How do I teach her that this is the problem with American medicine, this very over-reliance on reputations and expertise to tell us to over-indulge in interventionism at the expense of our health and budgets?

Anyway, I will not belabor this further. My advice to survey fielders: If you want to market to the gullible, go ahead and call people randomly and ask your market-building question. And if a person tells you she is a physician and a health services researcher to boot, run, don't walk, the other way.

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

Tipping a sacred cow: QI under the microscope

So much media and journal space has been devoted to financial conflicts of interest, particularly within and related to pharma and device manufacturers, that to write any more about it may be redundant. On this site we have also intermittently addressed COI from other perspectives, such as financial interest of the members of the American College of Radiology in maintaining mammography screening status quo, thinly veiled in its own version of the pernicious "death panel" language. We have also spoken a bit about the non-financial COI. And even though we are so very much aware of COI's potential to lurk around every corner, there are still some surprises.

Take the sacred cow of "quality improvement" in healthcare. Even the name, much like the "pro life" moniker, suggests that it is untouchable in its purity and nobility of purpose. So necessary is it because of the epic magnitude of morbidity and mortality attributed to healthcare itself, that the billions of dollars spent on it seem unquestionably justified. Indeed, much like our public education system, the QI movement garners higher and higher allocations simply due to the sheer face validity of the assumption that more of it is better. And the most fascinating aspect is that, in our current zeal for sensible economic allocation through evidence, QI, much like education, appears immune to scrutiny. This is the very definition of politics driving policy.

I return to the case of ventilator-associated pneumonia, or VAP, as the poster child for this movement. I have already alluded to the fact that definitionally VAP is a slippery slope: its diagnosis varies based not only on the tools used to diagnose it, but also depending on who is doing the diagnosing. Yes, indeed, what one clinician calls VAP another may call absence of VAP. I have also dissected the weak evidence behind some of the strongest purportedly evidence-based recommendations aimed at VAP prevention. But what if VAP itself is the wrong endpoint? What if we are spending untold dollars and other resources on a futile pursuit?

Do you feel yourself bristling yet? If you said "yes", it is a normal response I get from my colleagues and people who read my scholarly papers. Because how can anyone be against QI? Well, I am not against QI. I am simply against sanctifying QI as a sacred cow and thus shielding it from a sensible and rational evaluation.

So, if you are over the initial shock, allow me to explain myself. I am sure you have heard of surrogate endpoints. Here is a definition from Wikipedia:

In clinical trials, a surrogate endpoint (or marker) is a measure of effect of a certain treatment that may correlate with a real clinical endpoint but doesn't necessarily have a guaranteed relationship. The National Institutes of Health (USA) defines surrogate endpoint as "a biomarker intended to substitute for a clinical endpoint".[1][2]
Surrogate markers are used when the primary endpoint is undesired (e.g., death), or when the number of events is very small, thus making it impractical to conduct a clinical trial to gather a statistically significant number of endpoints. The FDA and other regulatory agencies will often accept evidence from clinical trials that show a direct clinical benefit to surrogate markers. [3]
This begs the question of what constitutes a "real" clinical endpoint. Well, in my simplemindedness I think of them as endpoints that matter to the patient or in the long run. So, death, disability, quality of life, functionality, these are the real endpoints. Something that alters one's life or threatens it is a real endpoint. Thus, blood pressure and cholesterol are surrogate endpoints, since they usually, but not always, correlate with the risk of a myocardial infarction or death. But what if such a correlation did not exist? Furthermore, what if a cholesterol level was measured with, say, tea leaves, and therefore was subject to a tremendous variation in detection? Would we then spend hundreds of billions of dollars on trying to alter this factor or would we calmly and rationally walk away and look for something that truly impacts the real outcome of a heart attack or death? I think I am making my point fairly clearly.


Let me explain why I think that VAP is but a surrogate outcome, and, given its diagnostic challenges, not a sensible one in the least. VAP by definition occurs in patients on mechanical ventilation (breathing machine), whose quality of life is fairly badly damaged in the short term. The literature would suggest that not all VAP impacts mortality adversely, but some forms of VAP indeed do, particularly VAP that develops late in the course of illness. So in this VAP does correlate with a real endpoint. Also, there is very little doubt that getting VAP prolongs one's dependence on mechanical ventilation, and increases the duration of the stay in the ICU and hospital overall. So, this can be considered not a very good, albeit real, outcome. An additional point to remember is that VAP engenders the use of additional, usually broad spectrum, antibiotics, putting both the individual and the society at risk for such unwanted consequences as the emergence of highly resistant microorganisms.


So, even though VAP is a surrogate endpoint, it certainly seems to fit the bill for something we would want to prevent. But here is the monkey wrench in this argument: what seem to be great surrogate endpoints do not always end up correlating with clinical reality. The association of VAP with morbidity and mortality has been detected in mostly retrospective observational studies. Trials of VAP prevention rarely, if ever, report any endpoint other than VAP. And, given how elusive VAP diagnosis is, there is plenty of room for gamesmanship so pervasive in the real world to make any data fit our preconceived hypotheses and political needs. 


So, what is my point? My point is that if QI wants to be a science, it needs to be subject to the same rules that all other science is guided by. Since we do not even know how much money we are spending on the ubiquitous QI efforts (likely hundreds of billions), and since we are not sure what they are accomplishing (see my many prior posts on the lack of validity of current claims in VAP prevention), we need to pause and ask ourselves whether the cheering alone justifies such an investment. I hate to say it, but can we really trust those with most to lose, financially and politically, if in reality QI does little more than lather the masses, to be the oracles of truth about the results of these efforts? The cognitive biases alone should disqualify them from being the arbiters of their own success. So, if we do not want to continue to indulge the principle of diminishing returns in QI, we need to take a sober look at what we have invested and what this investment has accomplished. Then and only then can we claim to practice evidence- rather than politics-or dogma-based policy.

Friday, 22 July 2011

Whose perspective?

After a long hiatus filled with travel, work and lack of inspiration to write anything, I have chosen this arguably hottest day of the year to venture forth again. But I will make this brief, as it seems that everything that needs to be thought and said has already been thought and said. Yet who is listening?

Anyhow, to suspend my natural cynicism, I want to talk about perspective. No, not the perspective that makes parallel lines converge in the distance, but the one that gets lost in many of our political, civic, business, and, yes, even scientific discussions. I am talking about my perspective, your perspective, societal perspective, etc. I was inspired to write this because of these tweets by Gary Schwitzer to Kaiser Health News about a story on their web site:
Linking out to the story, I learned that a consulting arm of Disney is teaching hospitals about hospitality. Since there is going to be a financial incentive for these hospitals to deliver good customer service, many are feeling that an investment in this type of training will help them maximize these new reimbursements. Hurrah and ta-da! 

Well, Gary likes to burst these one-sided bubbles, and so he rightfully asked about the costs. What was baffling to me was the response by the KHNews who did not seem to appreciate the importance of reporting the costs or the various perspectives that these costs represent. So, this seemed like a teachable moment, and here is the teaching.

In outcomes research, we are always interested in understanding the perspective for both the costs and the benefits of interventions. In health outcomes these perspectives are broadly represented by the patient, the provider, the hospital, the payer, the employer, the manufacturer, the society, to name a few. These are just some of the examples of the usual stakeholders involved in healthcare decisions. Because our healthcare is such a fragmented disaster, many of these perspectives find themselves at odds with one another. Just think of the patient who wants to get what she perceives as a life-saving treatment that in reality has a 1% chance of helping at a cost of $600,000 per treatment course. From her perspective, since she is insured, this investment is well worth the cost. For a payer, however, this means $600,000 (multiply this by 100 in order to determine the cost to save 1 life) that cannot be spent on something else that can help more people more predictably. And if this payer is the taxpayer, the societal perspective enters the picture, where we have to decide what amount of money is worth spending on possibly saving one life -- is $60 million reasonable? Perhaps. But these are not simple questions, and, as such, do not have simple answers. In addition, all conversations that we hear or engage in have multiple perspectives. This is why a black-and-white approach is so divisive: it generally emphasizes two diametrically opposed perspectives. 

So, next time you hear about death panels or Mickey Mouse teaching hospitals how to maximize their revenue, consider the broader implications from may different perspectives. Chances are you will find yourself agreeing with more than one point of view. And when this happens, you will know that you have learned an important lesson and can now start engaging in more nuanced and thus productive debates, many of which will shape our society's future.

h/t to @garyschwitzer for this KHN story      

Saturday, 18 June 2011

In honor of my father

My relationship with my Dad was not the easiest: we were so alike that all of his flaws were magnified in my estimation and bugged me disproportionately. But it was not always this way. When I was a kid in Odessa, we were really close. He told me tall tales to get me to eat my dinner, he took me for walks, he told me stories about our city. He instilled his love of Odessa in me, a love which I had forgotten until just the last couple of weeks.
I finally went back to Odessa after a 35-year absence. Just thirteen when we left, I was a reluctant party to our emigration. Despite my resistance, once we came to the US, I assimilated most successfully and repressed every notion of being from Odessa -- accent, uniquely Odessit attitude toward life, everything. Until I went back 10 days ago.

I arrived on a plane from Istanbul on Wednesday morning. The airport is a tiny one-story building with an attached airfield. Its only concession to modernity is buses that cart passengers between the building and the aircrafts. Stepping out of the plane, I sensed something achingly familiar in the light, the smells and sounds of the city. And this sense was to persist through the three days that I spent there.
Odessa, known as the "Pearl of the Black Sea", is the ultimate planned city. Established by the order of Catherine the Great in 1794, its role was to be a door to the southern trade routes, leading easily to the Ottoman Empire, as well as the ports of Western Europe. The architecture of the city, its art and literature, reflect the liberal, permissive attitude fostered by its founding planners that made it a civic and commercial success prior to the October Revolution of 1917. Now, emerging from her 70-year repression, Odessa greeted me with open arms.
The love for the city I learned from my father permeates everything in Odessa: Odessits love their city, despite her myriad flaws and imperfections. In this they are not given to extremes of thinking her either perfect or abominable. Their attitude is one of reverence and understanding. Some of her streets are perfect, while others are at the edge of ruin, and she still smiles and winks to us knowing that she transcends these minor details.

I went to the most treasured of places in Odessa, the Opera Theater. I sat in the sixth row, close enough to smell the make up. It was Rigoletto, and as Gilda was singing her aria, I could feel my Dad next to me, nodding and humming along with the music, as he always used to do. And I finally understood his years of silent longing for this most unpretentiously beautiful of all cities I have ever been to. Because if you ever visit Odessa, it will happen to you too.
So, on this, my first Father's day without you, I give you my love for our beautiful city.