Categories
Being human Medicine Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine

The Preflight Inspection and How to Make Decisions in the Era of COVID 19

We walked out to do the preflight on our aircraft. The mission was to fly from Naval Air Station Norfolk VA to Camp Lejeune NC and back. It was 1994.  I was the flight surgeon for Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 774 (HMM 774). We had just finished a preflight briefing in the ready room. I was to be the copilot for the mission. The pilot walked with me to guide me through the inspection.

Our aircraft for the day was a marine CH-46 Sea Knight helicopter. This aircraft was affectionately known as the “Phrog”. It was an unusual aircraft. It was a tandem rotor helicopter. This meant it had two main rotors rather than the usual main rotor for lift and tail rotor for control. This made it look a little bit like a frog, plus it had a tendency to bounce when you taxied it down the runway. Most of them were put into service in the 1960’s.  This last fall, Margaret took us to the Udvar-Hazy Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum facility. I was pleasantly surprised to see a Phrog on display. Amazingly the aircraft there is from my squadron (HMM-774.)  For all I know, the helicopter on display could have been the exact helicopter that I flew that day.

We got to where our helicopter was positioned on the tarmac. The pilot pulled out his flashlight from his safety vest. We carefully pulled and prodded and looked as we did the preflight inspection. He pointed out areas where the control cables could chafe and potentially wear through. He pointed to key areas on the aircraft that had been known to fail or break. 

“If this breaks, we will lose power to that rotor. We would have no control of the helicopter. We would likely do a loop and then crash and die. I know someone who had that happen.”

“If this cable breaks then we would lose control of this part of the helicopter. It is not clear that we would survive that. I know someone who had that happen.”

“This aircraft may actually be older than you. I don’t say that to scare you. I just want to explain why we have to be so careful. It is old and worn.”

The preflight went on and on with similar dire stories of his colleagues and friends who had suffered catastrophic failures and losses. Some had survived. Some had died. 

We finished the preflight inspection and climbed into the cockpit. By the time I strapped in I wondered about what I was doing. Had I told my wife that morning that I loved her? Should I slip out of the cockpit and run inside for one last phone call? Was I crazy to be flying that day?

I did a rapid calculation in my mind.  

On one side of the equation were the risks: I could crash and die. I would leave my wife a widow. I would leave my infant daughter without a father. The tangible risk of that fortunately was small. I had a very experienced marine aviator as the primary pilot. We had a good and well-trained flight crew. They all knew that particular aircraft in and out. We had scoured over the aircraft looking for any potential point of failure.  It looked good.

On the other side of the equation were the benefits: It was going to be a really fun flight. I would get to be at the controls for part of the flight. I also could better understand the operations of my squadron and the flight crews that I was responsible for.

I finished the calculation silently in my mind. I was staying. I focused again on the flight. 

It was indeed amazing. I got a lot of time in control of the aircraft. The pilot even let me taxi the Phrog around Camp LeJeune and fly it most of the way back to Norfolk. It was one of the most enjoyable flights I ever had in the military. It was really worth it.

Risk vs. Benefit. That is the term that describes what we do all the time in life, often without realizing it. 

That equation is one that has followed me and one I use continually in life. It is a key part of what we do in cardiology. We do risk vs benefit calculations with almost every patient interaction. How likely is it that their symptoms or test findings could cause a serious problem for them? Should we do a cardiac catheterization? Can we manage with medicines alone? Are the patient’s symptoms suggestive of a potential for a fatal event? Or are they going to be ok? Can we just reassure them? There is a cartoon of a doctor flipping a coin. “Heads you get quadruple bypass. Tails you just take a daily aspirin!” These are the extremes in the decisions we make on a regular basis. 

How do we make those decisions?  We carefully calculate the risk vs benefit.

For example, for a procedure:

  • High risk: Must be a high benefit.
  • Low risk: Not as much of a benefit is needed.
  • High benefit: Willing to accept a lot of risk.
  • Low benefit: Very little risk is acceptable.

Severe coronary artery disease (blocked arteries) especially in a diabetic patient? The benefit from coronary artery bypass surgery is very strong. It justifies the risk of having the surgery.

Stenting an artery in a stable asymptomatic patient with normal heart function? The risk is low. The benefit however is low. There is good data that they will do just as well with treatment with medicines. 

Yesterday I had this discussion with a patient. Should he have a defibrillator implanted? “Doc, just tell me what to do,” he said.  

I know that feeling. That is the attitude that most of us would like to take. None of us like having to make risk vs. benefit decisions. There are uncertainties. We would like to think that are always absolute and clear answers. If there are not, we generally want to just have others make the decisions for us. But to live responsibly we need to look at the facts and balance out the risks and benefits.

I needed for my patient to go further than that. I talked with him about why we would put a defibrillator in along with the tangible risks of doing it and not doing it. I reviewed the accepted standards of care along with what evidence was available to guide our decisions. In the end we made a decision together. The truth was that there were risks on both sides. Fortunately for this patient those risks were low regardless of which decision we made. Oddly the low risk vs low benefit decisions are often the hardest. But we needed to go through the calculation to make the decision.

That brings us to now. 

People are asking the question about whether certain activities are safe or not. 

That is wrong question. 

Nothing is completely safe. There is always risk to everything we do, now more than ever. 

Should I drive to work? I could be in car accident and die. But I also need to get to work. I choose to drive my car to work. I take precautions so that I can do so as safely as possible. But I do so.  Should we go sailing on Lake Michigan? One of us could fall overboard and drown. I could hit something and have the boat sink. The likelihood of both of those things are low. I think about the tangible risks, how I can control those risks along with the benefits (enjoyment, relaxation, etc…) and decide to go.

Is it safe? Is it 100% safe to open up and have church services? Answer: No.  Is it 100% safe to go back to work? Answer: No.  Is it 100% safe to go for a walk outside? Well – you could trip and fall and break a leg. You could have a freak storm come up and be struck by lightning. You could get attacked by a rabid squirrel.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” you are saying to me.  

That is the point I am making. If you are asking if any activity is “safe”, the answer is that no activity is 100% safe. There is always a risk. But we need to be realistic and understand what the extent of the risk is.  We will be ridiculous if we are trying to avoid all risk. That is not the question. 

Is the risk worth it? That is where you need to start looking at the benefit.  If the benefit is low – then no risk is warranted. If the benefit is high then a lot of risk is warranted.

The flight crews in World War II intentionally flew into cities with antiaircraft guns shooting at them.  There were people on the ground with big guns shooting with the very intention of blasting them out of the air and killing them. The flight crews still flew right into that. That is crazy. But the benefit (bombing munitions factories and thereby shortening the war) was so strong, that the degree of risk was warranted.

The soldier jumps out of the foxhole and charges the enemy line despite people shooting at him. But again, the benefit of winning the battle, rather than sitting and waiting to die in a stalemate, is worth the immense risk of charging the line.

There is a process that you go through to calculate the risk vs benefit.

  1. What is the risk? How strong is the risk? This is not an emotional question – this is one that you ask realistically. 
  2. What is the benefit? Again – this is a question that you need to ask in a mature and calm manner. What will happen if you do or do not do something?  What are the implications of your decision either way?
  3. Are there ways to reduce or mitigate the risks? Do they change the equation enough to change your decision?

How does that apply to today?

Should you go to the grocery store?  Is it safe?  Answer: No, it is not safe.  You could run into someone shedding the SARS-CoV-2 virus and get COVID 19 and then get very ill and die. What is the risk? The tangible risk of going to the grocery store, while observing careful social distancing and washing your hands afterwards is very low. What is the benefit? You need to have food. The benefit is pretty high. Can you reduce the risks? Yes – you could send one person into the store, you can wear a mask, you can wipe down the grocery cart with a disinfectant wipe, you can stay 6+ feet away from everyone else, you can plan your trip to minimize your time and exposure in the store, etc… Should you go? That is a personal decision based on the calculation you make about the risk vs. the benefit.

Should you go to the doctor?  What is the risk? At the current time, with all the precautions we have in place, the risk is very low.  What is the benefit? Presumably there is a reason that you have the appointment. Failure to pay attention and to treat your health condition could cause a much greater risk than going to that doctor’s office visit.  Can you reduce the risks? We have eliminated shared waiting rooms, screen both patients and staff for symptoms, insist on frequent handwashing and everyone wears a mask.  Should you go? We have opened our offices up again because we think under the right circumstances that it is.

Should you go to church if and when they reopen?  What is the risk? This is widely variable depending on how the church structures things and how people behave as they go to the service.  The risk could be enormous. A “normal” pre-COVID 19 church service could easily become a “super-spreader” event. One asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic person shedding the virus in close proximity to hundreds of people and singing for 20 minutes could infect dozens of people. On the other hand, an intentionally socially distanced and cautious church service has a lower risk. The risk is not “zero”. The risk is lower. No one really knows that the true risk is.  What is the benefit? That also is variable depending on the person. Some are able to effectively worship from home over the internet. Others cannot. They need the physical presence of others – even from a distance – to be encouraged and strengthened to live their lives.  What can you do to reduce the risks? There are lots of things similar to what I have already described. Should you go? The math is so dramatically individual that I cannot answer that. It is not an easy decision. It is one that each person and family will need to calculate. The answer also may shift and change as the pandemic spreads or wanes in each community. It might also change as we watch what happens in society.

The list of questions goes on.

In a risk vs. benefit approach it will create different risk tolerance depending on the benefit. You might choose in some circumstances to accept fairly high risks (like a soldier charging into battle). In other situations the benefit is so low that you should just choose to stay home and have zero risk. In other words, opening society doesn’t mean that you engage in the same level of risk acceptance all the time. It is completely dependent on whether it is worth the risk.

Should I have gone on that flight that day in 1994?  Even now some of you who are reading this might say that I should not have gone. I had a wife and a small daughter at home. I had invested years in college and medical school to become a doctor. For the thrill of flying a helicopter maybe I should not have exposed myself to the risk of crashing and dying.

My answer: Yes. Absolutely it was the right thing to do. I have never regretted taking that flight that day. It was an amazing experience. It helped me perform my job better. It was also really fun.  I also took great care to reduce the risks. I flew with an experienced pilot. We all had been through extensive safety training. We briefed before the flight. We inspected the aircraft thoroughly before the flight. We planned our course. One of us closely watched the charts for obstacles on the way. We maintained constant vigilance for other aircraft and for problems with our aircraft with attention to safety. I flew several times with them after that flight. Each time I did it I understood the risks. I also understood that it was worth it to me.

What is the right answer to all of the questions about opening up our society again?  Is it safe? Well, no, nothing is 100% safe. But does the benefit warrant the risk? If the benefit is low, then you shouldn’t accept any risk. But if the risk is low, then some things could be done again as long as there is a benefit.  

Will I go into a hospital room and examine a patient with COVID 19? The risk is high. The answer however is: Yes, I will (and I have) as long as there is a real and tangible benefit from me doing so. If I don’t have to go in the room I do not do so. But if it is needed, if there is a real benefit to the patient, I will do so. I will also take precautions to reduce the risk. 

I don’t have all the answers for everything as politicians and leaders consider opening up parts of our society.  The decisions are not easy. They are not straightforward. If, however, all we are asking is whether it is safe, we are deceiving ourselves. As we reopen people will get COVID 19. Some will get really ill. Some will die. What is the degree of the risk for each activity? What is the benefit? Is the benefit enough to justify the risk? 

Someday we will get beyond this and will no longer have to make as many of these hard decisions. Each week and each month we gain more knowledge. That knowledge hopefully will make these decisions easier. Hopefully we will be able to make better and better decisions as time goes on. But for now, we do the best we can. That means we are obligated to measure both risk and benefit to make the best decisions we can for ourselves and our families.

Ok. Our preflight brief is finished. We have done the inspection. We are strapped in. Let’s go flying.

Categories
Being human Medicine Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine Reflections on the Christian Life

A Desk and a Chair, a Feeling, and the Future

I drove by Blodgett Hospital yesterday. I was shocked to see that they tore down the parking structure that was attached to the professional building. The garage was old and failing but to see the hole in the ground was a shock. It brought back memories. Oddly, the memories felt good. They brought a light of sunshine and warmth inside of me. 

Let me explain.

The year was 1998. I was walking through that parking garage. From the garage I could see the windows for the physicians’ offices for Grand Valley Internal Medicine. I was finishing my internal medicine residency. I had accepted a job as a new primary care physician. I could see my desk and my chair. It was an exciting feeling to have that be my desk and my chair. It was exciting to tangibly see a future. 

I remember coming into my office for the first time. I had the keys to the back door for the office.[1] My office was empty except for the desk and chair. It felt really good. It was a place for me. It was more than that. This was where I was going to settle. This was where I was going to be able to see patients and work. It was where I was going to have a future.

I worked in that office for about 4 ½ years. They were good years. The practice itself was something that I will forever be proud to have been a part of. The doctors were truly excellent clinicians. I could tell anyone where I worked  and then just mention the names of a few of the doctors and immediately I would gain their respect. “That is a great office!” they would say. From the start there was a steady stream of patients. The patients and their problems were wide and varied. They challenged my internal medicine skills. They grew me and completed me as a physician.  

When I left it was not because I didn’t love the office, my colleagues, the staff or my patients. It was a hard thing to leave the office. But then there was something else. There was a drive inside me that made me leave. It was an intense sense of purpose. It was a need to be focused – to be a specialist.  I needed to be someone who could contribute in his own way – in his own niche – to the community. I have never regretted leaving. But I still love that practice. And I loved that office and that desk and chair.

As I continued to drive home yesterday I tried to understand why I felt the warm and nice feeling inside. A few minutes before that I was feeling frustrated and stressed. I had COVID 19 stress pulling at me. But a glimpse – and then a thought – could in an instant – cheer me up. 


Why?

I think it was the memory of being young and enthused and with a future. 

It was just an empty desk with a chair. But it was a nice desk and a nice chair in a carpeted office with a window (even though it viewed the parking garage.) It was just a desk and chair but so much more than that. It was my desk and chair. It was a place for me. It was opportunity for me. It was a future.

I think now that the warm feeling is about “hope.” It is about looking forward. It is about not staring at and indulging in the pain of now. It is about not obsessing over the problems or failures or anxieties of the past. It is about looking forward to what is next. It is creating a plan and marching forward. 

It is getting the new school clothes with the tags still on them and with the new smell to them to be ready for another year of elementary school. It is the new lunch box complete with a plastic Snoopy thermos. It is going to the college bookstore the month before classes start to buy your books. It is moving into the apartment in a new city and making your bed for the first time and learning your way around. It is the scary first or second or third dates – scary but filled with excitement and dreams of what the future could be with that person. It is getting out of the moving truck and walking around your new empty house with your spouse looking for where each piece of furniture will go.

Dear Lord, please help me if I stop having a future. There must always be a future. 

I am not saying that it won’t be without some anxiety. 

Starting as a brand-new primary care physician meant that I had a lot to learn and do. I did not have years and years of practice patterns to guide my decisions and work. I had to figure out how I as a physician was going to handle each diagnosis and medical problem. Every day brought new challenges and new things to do. It was heavy lifting. I worked hard. It wasn’t easy. 

Our futures now are not easy. 

We are looking at how to navigate another year or two of COVID 19. We are looking at how to live in a world with social distancing and face masks and obsessively using hand cleaner and anxiety and worry about who might get seriously ill. We have all the arguments and all the uncertainty about how we move forward. We have so many questions and unknowns.

Many have lost their jobs and are not sure where to look next to find another. 

Many of us are working in distressed health systems. We are looking at working with a lot fewer support staff and pushing ourselves to work harder. We are figuring out how to go back to work and to see more and more patients. We feel a drive to deliver more care so that not only can we help our patients who need it but also so that our health system can dig out of the revenue hole that COVID 19 has created. 

There is a lot of uncertainty and a lot of work ahead. 

But this morning the trees in our back yard have budded out with new leaves. They are rapidly closing in our back yard again with their lush green just like they do every spring. They have not frozen in place in anguish. Summer is coming. There is a future.

We are not the first to live through a lot of changes. 

I think of the ancient Israelites who were carted into captivity in Babylon. Imagine being conquered by an enormous army and being dragged away from your homes. What should they do? How were they going to survive? 

In that setting the prophet Jeremiah spoke these words from the Lord God Almighty, “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters…”[2]

I think you get the idea?

He continues later in the passage, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”[3]

One of my teachers gave me a gift with that verse on it when I graduated from high school.  I didn’t really understand what it meant. I do now.

The desk and the chair are all about having a future.  We may not know what the future will be. It likely won’t be easy. It can and will create anxiety inside of us. It will mean changes and new things. It will push us to learn and grow. But now is not the time to stop. Now is the time to get up and live.

But what does that mean? 

To paraphrase the prophet Jeremiah: “Figure out what you are going to have for dinner. Later get a good night’s sleep. Get up the next day and think about what work you can or want to do. Look for opportunity. Look for what is next. Love your family. Live your life. Raise your kids. Be excited as they too live their lives. Look to the future.”

Last night I went from feeling frustrated and anxious to feeling warm inside. Then and in this moment I remember the feelings I had when I first looked at that desk and chair. They are good feelings. They are exciting. In that memory, I am okay. I can feel warm and good. 

I can and will look to the future – whatever it may bring.


[1] https://manmedicineandmike.com/he-has-the-keys-to-the-back-door/

[2] Jeremiah 29:5-6, New International Version

[3][3] Jeremiah 29:11, New International Version