The Retired Consultant Redux – A Conversation With Two Internists

In retirement I run into colleagues who are interested in the process and how it is going. I was greeted with a “How is my favorite retired psychiatrist” yesterday. It originated from a highly qualified subspecialist who was immersed in hospital work when I first met him. We talked briefly about his changing roles over the years going from hospital based acute care practice, to an outpatient specialty practice, to his current role of tertiary consultant seeing the most difficult problems in his field. I told him that was the role I miss the most – seeing the most difficult to diagnose and treat cases and being the one to figure out what to do.

It is not an easy life – especially if you are as neurotic as me.  It involves constant research and revision of approaches. It involves close follow up.  It involves sleepless nights and anxiety.  It involves balancing innovation against not wanting to make a mistake.  Sometimes it involves convincing other people to go along with you when they may be reluctant. It also involves tolerating the suffocating routine of excessive documentation and jumping through unnecessary administrative hoops as well as the occasional overt harassment. But in the end – you end up being a physician that both your patients and colleagues can count on and that’s something.

We discussed the nature of treating these populations. He told me he likened his practice to neurology because of the reputation that the level of esoteric diagnoses are not matched by esoteric treatments and often there is not much that you can do. I never understood this degree of pessimism.  I have been confronted with people who told me their last doctor told them: “Look there is nothing more I can do for you.”  And we were able to make some progress.     

Finally – we discussed the 2 year milestone and how many people leave retirement and have to go back into active practice at that point.  He made the observation that this seems to happen across professions where possible – and it seemed to depend on attitudes to retirement and whether you had anything to do.  He did not think retirement would be a problem.  I estimated he had about another 8-10 years of practice left.  I had my usual thoughts about all of the people I knew who never made it to retirement.  I also thought about retirement from physically taxing work and the problems that involves - not the least of which is adjusting caloric intake to prevent excessive weight gain.  

The second conversation was more technical. It was an opinion about gabapentin.  The patient in question was taking it long term for back pain and had a history of back surgeries. More recently she was on diuretics and other medications for atrial fibrillation and congestive heart failure. She was seeing several specialists and they were dutifully getting all of the correct labs but nobody seemed to notice the gradual increase in creatinine to 1.7 and 2.4.  That correlated clinically with increasing somnolence, ataxia, and falls.  After reading the package insert on gabapentin he called me to discuss a dosage adjustment with renal insufficiency.

I recalled a healthy young man I was treating who became acutely confused and ataxic after he was started on simvastatin by a consultant. In psychiatry, this scenario raises suspicions of intoxicants even in a hospital setting. But given the circumstances I decided to also look for a cause of delirium.  The acute labs showed that he had acute renal failure as an idiosyncratic reaction to the statin and he was transferred to medicine to treat the problem.  The acute renal failure led to the accumulation of gabapentin and the delirium and ataxia.

As we discussed the cases, the internist pointed out the difficulty with today’s fragmented medical care.  All of the medication were ordered and the labs were done – but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to how the patient was doing. It reminded him of a quote from one of his mentors George Magnin, MD who used to say to his Medicine residents: “What are you going to do until the doctor gets here?”

That quote struck me as genius both as a motivating factor and the immediate reality of the situation. When you are confronted with a patient who is having a problem – you need to be able to do something about it. That doesn’t mean that you will always know what to do – and if you don’t you at least need to know how to triage the problem so that the patient gets the correct care.  We try to increase the likelihood that will happen by specialization, subspecialization, and settings to match the illnesses with the specialists, but those matches are far from perfect.

I had this experience to illustrate.  I got a call from an emergency medicine physician who was seeing a patient I was treating for bipolar disorder. I knew him and his family very well from years of treatment. The ED doc wanted me to hospitalize him for acute mania but his wife who was with him said he was not manic and she did not want him admitted to a psychiatric unit.  After a brief description of his symptoms I said: “Put him on the phone so I can talk with him.”  Within 30 seconds I could tell he had a fluent aphasia with paraphasic speech errors.  When the ED doc came back on I told him that this was not mania – but most likely an acute stroke syndrome and he was hospitalized on Neurology where the stroke diagnosis was confirmed.

“What are you going to do until the doctor gets here?” – means that doctor.  The one who can diagnose and treat your problem.  That is the one that matters.  In this era of health apps, checklists, self-diagnosis, electronic health records, telemedicine, and so-called artificial intelligence that is still all that matters.

Being that person is hard to attain and hard to walk away from.

 

George Dawson, MD, DFAPA 

Image credit:  Wikimedia Commons per their CC licensing the details of which are available by clicking on the graphic.

Additional:  The identities of the physicians were anonymized in this post. I doubt that any physician benefits from being associated with me or this blog.