Isn't Science Wonderful - Continued

As I wrote last time, doctors treat strep throat with an antibiotic. Does it work?

That seems a no-brainer because antibiotics definitely kill strep bacteria. But the answer turns out to be….maybe. In scientific studies, giving antibiotics to patients with strep throat is not dramatically effective. Some doctors suspect they don’t work. This contrasts vividly with treating strep infections in other areas such as the skin where it’s often obviously lifesaving.

“Wait a minute!!” assert experts including my professors in medical school. It’s true that strep throat goes away in three to five days even if not treated, but doctors must treat in order to prevent rheumatic fever, a disease that can produce devastating heart disease. Scientists don’t understand why, but a small percentage of strep victims go on to develop rheumatic fever. Antibiotics lower the risk.

Are they right? Again science delivers the answer: maybe. Evidence for preventing rheumatic fever in America comes from a study conducted sixty-five years ago when rheumatic fever was common. It’s rare now. I’ve never seen a case. Everyone agrees it wasn’t a terrific study.

Some doctors believe that rheumatic fever is so rare in the US that giving an antibiotic is more likely to cause harm (yes, antibiotics can cause harm) than benefit.

While it’s fun to make controversial statements in this blog, with patients I stick to the standard of practice. This means I sometimes give treatments whose scientific basis is weak. If you prefer therapy that’s guaranteed, you must stop seeing scientific practitioners like me and seek out alternative or complementary healers. Google “alternative medicine.”  You’ll notice that their treatments always work.

Isn't Science Wonderful!

“He has pus on his tonsils, so it’s probably strep,” said a guest, calling about her teenage son. I hear this phrase regularly. It causes me some stress because I know that later I might find myself delivering a why-antibiotics-won’t-help explanation to a sullen audience. 

One popular (i.e. wrong) medical belief is that pus on tonsils is a sign of strep throat. In fact, this is true only about ten percent of the time. Viral infections produce identical exudates.

Arriving in the room, I discovered that the boy had pus on his tonsils but also a fever, swollen, painful glands in his neck, and no cough. Good scientific studies show that the presence of these four signs: pus on tonsils, fever, swollen neck glands, and NO cough raise the odds of strep to over fifty percent, so prescribing an antibiotic is appropriate. I prescribed an antibiotic. The family made it clear they were in the presence of a doctor who knew his business.

Isn’t science wonderful? It is. But it’s wonderful in ways that are often not satisfying. More in my next post.

Easy Visits, More or Less

My phone rang as I walked into the gym. A guest at the Sunset Plaza wanted a doctor to “check out” her 9 year-old daughter who’d awoken with a fever and vomited once. This was a good call. Multiple vomits can be worrisome, but one is OK. I jumped at the chance to skip my morning exercise.

Sunset Plaza parking is indoors and free, a bonus on a hot day and on the Sunset Strip where street parking is impossible. The daughter was recovering, so I reassured the parents, a pleasure for everyone.

As I returned to my car, the phone rang again. This was a perfect time for a second call. Lunch was two hours away. Late morning traffic is the day’s thinnest. I could thrill the guest by announcing a speedy arrival.

The caller was a national housecall service. The patient was a Quantas flight attendant at the Hilton. While there is a Hilton at Los Angeles airport, this one was in Costa Mesa, 45 miles away. This was not so good, but there were compensations.

As I’ve written, in the old days airlines called me directly, and I billed them directly. No airline does that now. They call a national housecall service which, of course, calls me. I’m happy to work for the service because, being a better marketer, it’s acquired far more airlines, so I receive more calls. It also pays much more. This is possible because it charges airlines triple my former fee. You may wonder why airlines are willing to pay so much more, but I don’t. I’ve long since stopped believing that bad decisions by people who seem intelligent have a good explanation.  

Another Perk of Hotel Doctoring

A travel insurer sent me to visit a woman complaining of asthma. When I arrived, she admitted that she had a little wheezing. She didn’t seem ill, and my exam was negative. She added casually that she had left home without her asthma inhaler, so I wrote a prescription for another.

When guests phone me directly because they’ve forgotten a medicine, I call a pharmacy to replace it at no charge. Guests who phone their travel insurance are often reluctant to admit their mistake, so they claim they’re ill. These are easy visits.

I Resist Temptation

A businessman at the Hilton-Garden Inn asked a pharmacist to recommend a cream for his insect bites. To his alarm, the pharmacist informed him that what looked like insect bites might be Lyme disease and that he should consult a physician.

This provided another delicious temptation in the life of a hotel doctor. I could make a housecall, assure the man he did not have Lyme disease, and collect my fee. He would feel vastly relieved and grateful. Everyone would be happy.

The businessman described half a dozen itchy pimples around his ankles. Even over the phone, it was obvious that they were insect bites. I reassured him, and he was relieved and grateful, but no money changed hands.

We Yearn to Help

If a prescription gave you diarrhea or made you vomit, you might complain. But until well into the twentieth century, the average American looked on a good “purge” as a way to expel disease. Physicians took pride in their cathartics, and when patients discussed a doctor’s skill, they gave high marks for the violence of his purges.

Nowadays Americans frown upon purging, but we seem to expect a medicine. It should be one only a doctor can prescribe; over-the-counter drugs don’t count. Pills are good, but an injection is better. Of course, modern drugs often work, but this is a minor matter compared to the deep human desire that a doctor do something.

I apologize if this sounds mildly insulting; I suspect most of you will deny expecting a drug. You want whatever will help. If nothing will help, you want to know.

Such sensible patients do appear, but no day passes when I don’t see disappointment in a patient’s eyes when he or she realizes I don’t plan to “give them something.” 

Doctors genuinely want to help you, and we feel bad when we can’t. We also feel bad when we do our best, and it’s obvious a patient doesn’t feel “helped.” So many of us add a prescription to convince you that we’re doing what a proper doctor should do.

I Prefer Vomiting and Diarrhea

Two women at the Holiday Inn were ill. The mother suffered low abdominal pain with vomiting and diarrhea. It seemed like the usual stomach flu. I assured her it wouldn’t last long and gave medication.

Her adult daughter also complained of low abdominal pain but without other symptoms. Viral gastroenteritis can occur without vomiting or diarrhea, but I feel reassured when they’re present. It’s a good rule that when two members of a family are ill at the same time, it’s the same illness, but no rule is absolute.

The problem is that isolated low abdominal pain in a young woman can indicate an urgent problem such as ectopic pregnancy or twisted ovary. This seemed unlikely, but I couldn’t rule it out. If she weren’t better in a few hours, I explained, she must go to the local emergency room. She did not object.

When I phoned a few hours later, the mother’s symptoms had vanished, and the daughter told me she felt a little better. Patient tend to tell doctors what they believe we want to hear, so “…a little better,” does not reassure me. Pressed, she admitted that she wasn’t feeling better. When urged to go to the emergency room, she worried about her lack of insurance and the late hour but promised to give it serious consideration.

I passed a restless night. When I phoned the next morning, she had recovered.