Monthly Archives: August 2012

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Physicians, Burnout and Rust

When asked last week to write an article about physician burnout I had to laugh. Really, laughter was the only choice. After all, laughter is indeed good medicine. You see, lately I have been feeling an increased affinity for the 38% percent of practicing physicians reported to be burnt out, according to the most recent issue of the Archives of Internal Medicine.

A sad number isn’t it? Burnout is a syndrome described by a triad of emotional exhaustion, detachment or cynicism, and a low sense of accomplishment. The authors, Shanafelt, et al. used the gold standard Maslach Burnout Inventory to assess burnout in over 7000 American doctors. Try these numbers on for size:

  • 46% of all physicians reported at least 1 symptom of burnout
  • 37% felt their work schedule did not leave enough time for personal or family life
  • 38% of US physicians had high emotional exhaustion, 30% had high depersonalization, and 12% had a low sense of personal accomplishment.

All of this brings me back to a conversation I had a few years back. I was out of residency and had been working for Kaiser for some time. Long enough for the penny to seem a bit less shiny. I was enjoying a glass of wine with friends around my old backyard table. One of them, a pilot and I started talking about work. Our careers, which we had long dreamed of having, and for which we had worked incredibly hard, were in ways somehow lacking. As cool as being a doctor or a pilot sounds when one dreams it up, in the end what you have is a job that has long hours, enormous stress and may not fully pay your bills. Too cynical? Maybe.

As I read about physician burnout for this article, it occurred to me that perhaps we were making too much of ourselves. The Pub Med search entry “physician burnout” yields no less than 1,233 articles. Are we really that much worse off than the rest of the population? Well, yes we are. The Shanafelt study compares our rate of burnout to that of population-matched controls and suggests that

the experience of burnout among physicians
does not simply mirror larger societal trends.

And, burnout in physicians has disturbing consequences. This study also measured the rates of depression and suicidal ideation amongst doctors, both found at alarming levels. Emotionally detached doctors are less likely to be empathetic and more likely to make errors. They are more likely to leave the profession altogether.

I met with my financial planner yesterday for a regular review. We talked about this issue of burnout for a while. I learned that he has been concerned by the increasing numbers of physicians sitting before him to ask how they can afford to get out of the field. Pauline Chen in this week’s NY Times writes that this trend

has serious repercussions in a system already facing a severe doctor shortage as it attempts to expand coverage to 30 million or more currently uninsured Americans.

So what do we do about this? I read a good dozen articles on burnout. Each offered a similar list of platitudinous suggestions for the suffering colleague. Exercise more. Spend more time with loved ones. Consider a change. Set limits at work. Only this recent article by Shanafelt et al. delves into a discussion about the need for evidenced based recommendations and system-wide change.

Most of the available literature focuses on
individual interventions centered on stress reduction
training rather than organizational interventions designed to address the system factors that result in high burnout rates…Given the evidence that burnout
may adversely affect quality of care and negatively affect physician health, additional research is needed to identify personal, organizational, and societal interventions to address this problem.

As to my own fight against the burnout triad (loss of enthusiasm for work, cynicism and a low sense of personal accomplishment), I am on most days winning. I do find that the best approach is humor. My patients make me smile. I find enjoying the bond with my patients and their families can get me through even the hardest days. I do not tend to be cynical by nature so when this mood hits me it can truly seem comical - as if I am doing a bad imitation of a cranky doctor. To maintain a sense of pride in my work I try to continue to challenge myself by aggressively reading about any new patient diagnosis or diagnostic dilemma. Outside work, by taking on jobs that challenge me in new ways like writing, bike repair and learning German. I do this to avoid the apparent alternative to burnout presented first by President Millard Fillmore and later, Neil Young: rust.

And, when I have a vacation I work hard to follow the Dalai Lama’s teaching:

In dealing with those who are undergoing great suffering, if you feel “burnout” setting in, if you feel demoralized and exhausted, it is best, for the sake of everyone, to withdraw and restore yourself. The point is to have a long-term perspective.

Vacations do not involve using the electronic medical record, email, Twitter or my cell phone. But these steps are only stop-gap measures while I and nearly half of the physicians in this country await more research and, perhaps more importantly, system-wide changes.

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Reunions and Poetry

Sometimes I find my self paralyzed here before the keyboard. I am paused by concern that my thoughts are mundane or trite; that anything I say will have been said before. And better. Ah well, sometimes that which has been said before is worth saying again. And perhaps, again.

I went to my 30th high school reunion recently. I was ambivalent about attending; my life now seems so remote from those days of the past. I am here, they are there. I am not who I thought I would be. I have family, friends, career…an identity that seems to have little to do with then. There were though, reasons to go, places to revisit, people to embrace, relationships to nurture. So off I went.

I was moved and surprised. Sure, it was fun. Unexpectedly, stay up-til-3AM-two-nights-in-a-row kind of fun. Sure, there were people who I was surprised by. I found more people than not unchanged; we slipped back into easy conversation. It was as much fun to watch who looked the same as they always had as it was to see who had satisfyingly evolved (not sure where I fell exactly). Sure, it was interesting to see what had come of old flames.

The real magic though was not so simple to explain. I have since, been coming here to this keyboard to write, only to pull away, in a struggle to explain something different. I found my voice through remembering the words of Elizabeth Barret Browning quoted by a classmate as she warmly led us in a remembrance for the too many that we have lost:

What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes.

The people we knew in our youth, the people of our growing years shaped us. They have defined us in ways hard to account for. I was embraced by a warm air of recognition, understanding and support by those many faces from the past. We all move forward into our lives and, the people we become? They are in large part shaped by our relationships of the past. I found this especially poignant and reassuring. I have next to no family of my own left; I have lost many. Yet I know well that they are with me, they are in me. Even so, I was surprised to see how strongly even small acquaintances of the past were a part of who I am today.

As we re-encountered each other we asked and, answered over again, the same set of questions. Where do you live? What do you do? Married? Divorced? So sorry. Children? These were our descriptors used to define us. But just as easily, the questions to define us upon meeting could be: Where were you from? Who was your first kiss? Who taught you art? What were the trees like there in the summer? Which friends motivated you? Who do you love still? What did your high school look like? Who still intimidates you? Who do you miss?

What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes.

Indeed. I am shaped by my past. I taste it.