Thursday, December 31, 2009

On Reflection at the Turn of the Year: 1

The end of the year is a time for remembering and reflecting.  Several things are on my mind these days.

This year I will be hitting several “30’s:” aspects of my professional life that in 2010 I’ll have been about for thirty years.  There are a number of ways in which I know that, but one of them is literally in my hands.

I don’t mean that this theme in my work is simply in my control.  I mean that I can see the evidence in the skin on my fingers.  My skin is always dry, and frequently cracked.

The issue is hand washing, but the point is not hand washing itself.  I don’t want to suggest that thirty years ago we weren’t concerned about washing our hands, or about a safe, sanitary environment.  Still, some things have changed.  We have always had gloves around, and we’ve always used them for sterile environment.  We’ve always washed our hands, but now every room, and almost every wall in the hospital has one variety of sanitizer or other.

We know, of course, what stimulated that change: AIDS.  AIDS has been with us thirty years, too, or almost.  I remember the early days, when we first heard about “the Haitian disease,” and then about GRID.  Point by point we learned more about this disease.  Those who cared for the sick learned about one opportunistic disease after another.

Eventually, we learned about the virus, HIV.  However, all along we have been washing our hands.  We found by experience that it worked; that is, that health care workers who followed good procedures, including washing their hands and wearing gloves, didn’t get sick.

Not everyone got that message, even once the virus had been identified.  I remember attending the death of a young man from Kaposi’s sarcoma.  A good nurse almost lost her wits when I laid my hands on the young man’s head to pray.

Again, it wasn’t that we weren’t washing our hands before, or wearing gloves in circumstances we thought to need a sterile field.  However, we were making assumptions, and based on those assumptions were washing our hands less, and especially using gloves, less.

We were also washing them out of the sight of the patient.  While much of the time that was because the sinks were simply fewer and farther between, sometimes we did it intentionally.  We did it intentionally with AIDS patients.  Some AIDS patients, already suffering stigma related to their disease or hiding their disease to avoid it, felt that washing hands in their presence suggested that they were somehow “dirty.”  So, to avoid adding to the stigma, or making more uncomfortable patients who were anxious enough already, we didn’t wash our hands in front of them.  We certainly washed our hands, both before and after seeing the patient.  We just did it out in the hall.

We also began to speak of such precautions as being really appropriate all the time.  We began to speak of “universal precautions,” appropriate for all conditions and not simply for AIDS.  Precautions weren’t a comment on the patient, but an effort to keep all patients and all caregivers safe.

In the intervening years that provision has been shown to be wise.  A range of other conditions – resurgent TB, and its drug resistant forms; SARS; Bird Flu; and most recently Swine Flu – demonstrated the propriety of having precautions that were truly universal.  In the meantime, with new medications and better knowledge we discovered AIDS was a disease one could live with, not simply die of.  So, in thirty years even our language has changed.  We now speak not of “universal” precautions but of “standard” precautions; and good hand washing has been complemented with hand sanitizers in various forms in hospitals and homes and virtually everywhere.

And so my hands are always chapped and dry, but my patients and my colleagues and I are safer.  I’m conscious of that a certain prejudice contributes to that: I could use hand cream, but I was raised with the sense that rough hands were a sign that someone actually worked for a living.  I also wonder sometimes whether extending standard precautions from hospital and kitchen to everywhere won’t have other less favorable consequences (Hygiene Hypothesis, anyone?  I wonder….).  But I wash my hands, and rub on the alcohol foam and gel.  And I’m conscious of the changes I’ve seen in my work in thirty years – changes I can literally see in my hands.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

One Story of a Market Oriented Approach to Health Care

I know that I’ve been quiet here, what with the holidays and all. That doesn’t mean, though, that I haven’t been paying attention. In the midst of all the holiday stuff there have been continued to be some good reporting on health care in the United States. While most of that has centered on the Senate’s bill, and now prospects for reconciliation of the House and Senate Bills in conference, there have still been some valuable stories on the provision of health care.

Like this one from NPR’s All Things Considered. Titled "How A Bone Disease Grew To Fit The Prescription," it’s worth your time (you can read or listen here). It describes how a drug company virtually created a market for a new drug. It’s not that there wasn’t a market at the beginning, but it was small and not very profitable. This is the story of how the drug company moved to create a market, with results we see in television ads virtually every day.

In the process, a number of things happened that are typical of how health care works in a "market approach." The company supported research – but primarily research that supported the need for drugs like the one they were marketing. It worked with doctors, but especially to induce them to prescribe radiology studies that weren’t necessarily all that valuable (and perhaps not worth the incremental radiological risk). It lobbied Congress, so that eventually Medicare and other insurers would pay for all of this. Note that in all of this the company did nothing illegal. As to whether it was unethical – well, that’s another question.

I have said before that part of the problem of our health "system" is a view that health care is a retail item, rather than a public service. That’s where a "market approach" to health care continues to take us, until we make some other provision. This story provides a good object lesson why simply "trusting the market" would likely continue to expand our costs and our exposure to care we just might not need. So, take a few minutes for the story.


Thursday, December 24, 2009

Merry Christmas to All

It has happened once again:

Once in royal Davids city,
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her Baby,
In a manger for His bed:
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ, her little Child.

He came down to earth from heaven,
Who is God and Lord of all,
And His shelter was a stable,
And His cradle was a stall:
With the poor, and mean, and lowly,
Lived on earth our Saviour holy.

For He is our childhood's pattern;
Day by day, like us, He grew;
He was little, weak, and helpless,
Tears and smiles, like us He knew;
And He cares when we are sad,
And he shares when we are glad.

And our eyes at last shall see Him,
Through His own redeeming love;
For that Child so dear and gentle,
Is our Lord in heaven above:
And He leads His children on,
To the place where He is gone.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

As Advent Ends

It has been, this year, an – well, let’s say odd – an odd Advent. Something has been not quite right.


It has been different this year. After some years away from it, my Best Beloved is working in nursing again. That has changed our schedules – hers because of her work schedule, and mine because it’s rearranged how we divide up household responsibilities; and mine, too, simply because on many days my schedule is more flexible.


Veni, veni Emmanuel;
Captivum solve Israel,
Qui gemit in exilio,
Privatus Dei Filio.

Gaude! Gaude! Emmanuel,
Nascetur pro te, Israel!


It’s been busier, and so things haven’t happened at their accustomed pace. Our Christmas tree did not get brought in until 4th Advent. Now, once upon a time that was because of my insistence that really appreciating Advent required holding of on symbols of Christmas, including the tree. (One year we waited until 4th Advent to put it up, and until Candlemas to take it down. Boy, did we vacuum needles that year!) This year it was simply because when we weren’t too busy, we were too tired.


Gifts are purchase, and, blessedly, family members have made that easier. My sons have made me proud, asking for contributions to charity in their names rather than gifts. They’re certainly right that they don’t really need things, and that others do; but others in similar circumstances still have their lists of toys, adjusted for age and income. So, I appreciate them. Still, if it hadn’t been simpler I don’t know quite when or how I’d have done what I wanted to do.


Come, O come, Emmanuel,
and ransom captive Israel,
that morns in lonely exile here
until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

But what I have noticed most is something smaller, more intimate. I haven’t been singing. I have written at other times of the importance of music, both to console a mood and to create one. In years past as I walked the halls of the hospital I would sing, softly but clearly. I sang for me, primarily, although not so softly that others couldn’t hear. I sang hymns, primarily, and carols for the season. And this year as I’ve run from place to place, I don’t recall singing.


Veni, veni Emmanuel;
Captivum solve Israel,
Qui gemit in exilio,
Privatus Dei Filio.

Gaude! Gaude! Emmanuel,
Nascetur pro te, Israel!

It has been better this week. There is something about the lessons for 4th Advent that turn the corner in my mood, as they are intended to turn the corner in our observance. I preached yesterday on the Visitation, and how it was in many ways our response to Thomas the Forensic (not “Doubting” so much as “Proving”). The concreteness of the kick of an unborn child is in itself confirmation of hope – a confirmation so intimate and so real, even for those of us in the half of humankind who can only feel it from the outside.

And there is today. There are still some 40 hours or so of Advent. There is still some time to hope and to sing and to prepare.


Come, O come, Emmanuel,
and ransom captive Israel,
that morns in lonely exile here
until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

Watch. Wait. Hope; for the day of the Kingdom is at hand.

Friday, December 18, 2009

The Covenant Cometh

The Anglican Communion Office has released today the final draft of An Anglican Covenant, the one that we have awaited for some time. Section Four continues to be part of it. There is need for a more analytical comment, but now that it’s out I have my own thoughts about next steps. Let me say that these are things I hope for, however faint that hope might seem, and not a plan I might propose.


First, I hope that the Episcopal Church as institution will make no immediate comment except to note the release and express interest. (Sure, a great many of us as individuals will comment with heat and at length. I’m talking about the institution here.)

Second, I hope that we will indeed study this carefully between now and General Convention in 2012. However we might feel about it at this point (and, no, I don’t care for Section Four either), out of respect for other national and provincial churches in the Communion, many of whom want to maintain communion with us and might also be interested in the Covenant, we need to take the time and make the effort. (Based on past history, I think we’re more likely to actually study it than many.) This should include exploring whether in fact we could theoretically sign on without affecting our Constitution and Canons.

Third, I hope we will bring this to the 2012 Convention. Specifically, I hope we will bring it piecemeal: that is, I think we should consider in separate resolutions the Introduction and Preamble, Sections One, Two, Three, and Four, and the Declaration. Frankly, I don’t think Section Four would have passed in this past Convention in Anaheim, and I don’t expect it will pass in Indianapolis, either. However, I see no harm and significant good in affirming each section that we can, even if we cannot affirm the Covenant as a whole and sign on.

It’s out. We can read what Canterbury wants us all to agree on. I hope our official responses will be measured and careful. In the meantime, let the shouting begin.