Omission Bias in Therapeutic Medical Decision Making

Having studied so-called heuristics and biases, aka cognitive biases and System 1 & System 2 processes in medical decision making on and off for 25 years, and thinking constantly about them in the full-time practice of clinical medicine, I have come to the conclusion that they are hard to spot in the wild. Except one: Omission Bias.

Omission bias represents a preference for inaction that preserves the status quo over action which changes it, and it is insidious because each day we encounter countless status quo states in medicine, established earlier and perhaps by different providers, but often by ourselves. The status quo inures us to what is, obscuring the question of what ought to be.

In this recent paper, and an accompanying editorial, omission bias is (partly) explained and several recurring examples in the ICU are discussed. But this is the tip of the iceberg. I venture a guess that every day, there is a decision that is made, or not made, that instantiates this bias. In addition to those discussed in the linked papers, here I will point out some common scenarios outside of the ICU where this bias lurks, preying on the desultory physician.

The patient presented to the ER (or elsewhere) for pneumonia, and was started on Zosyn (or cefepime) and vancomycin. Despite having no risk factors for pseudomonas, anaerobes, or MRSA, the team continues those antibiotics rather than change them to standard CAP coverage. The prospect of not covering something, always nagging at the physician, now looms larger because if the patient does unexpectedly have a resistant organism causing pneumonia, the anticipatory regret of not leaving things as they were deters the change.

The patient was started on unfractionated heparin for intermediate (or low) risk DVT/PE, when LMWH is the preferred drug, because of the misguided worry that "an intervention may be needed." Even if that were a legitimate concern at the outset, the patient has made it through the night and has improved, yet UFH is continued, requiring those pesky aPTT checks and the unpredictable pharmacokinetics of the drug.

"I'm Not Comfortable With"....Analyzing Decisions Involving Risk

A woman with upper gastrointestinal bleeding is admitted to the ICU with significant hemoglobin drop from baseline several months before.  The INR was >10 on admission, presumably reflecting sphlanchnic hypoperfusion during the bleeding episode (decreasing clearance or increasing effect of warfarin) in addition to consumption of clotting factors during bleeding.  The INR is reversed with vitamin K, and an EGD is performed showing a nonbleeding vessel which was clipped.  The following day, the patient is up and walking around and eating a full liquid diet with no further evidence of bleeding.  MAPs are in the mid to low 60s, and she is "called out" for a transfer to the regular medical ward.  The resident is reportedly "not comfortable with" having the patient on the floor with the low mean arterial pressures.  How best to analyze the situation?

(I will only briefly note that the expression of discomfort describes an emotional reaction that may or may not be concordant with a logical and factual analysis of the situation at hand.  In this case I suspect it has something to do with the availability heuristic, where dramatic events [gushing blood] are estimated to have higher probabilities than they warrant.)

The discomfort seems to stem from a concern that the patient will deteriorate on the regular medical ward and require interventions that are not available there, prompting readmission to the ICU and incurring the risk of a missed opportunity to provide necessary care during any delays in executing the transfer.  Factors that may raise that concern are marginal hemoglobin values (7-8) especially considering a baseline of almost twice that several months before, the size of the GIB and the resulting hemodynamic instability, the marginal MAPs at the time of transfer.  Mitigating factors are the absence of ongoing bleeding, the inference that any marginal MAPs must be from a residual volume deficit (she does not have coincident sepsis), that the vessel was successfully clipped, and the patient is up and walking about in spite of the measured MAPs.  But how are we to integrate this into an estimate of the risk that may be incurred from transfer?

Procedure Meat: How Procedural Lust Imperils Patients

I'll start with a macabre anecdote of crassness, to get everyone's attention.  It is apropos because procedural lust has crass and macabre consequences.

It was about 17 years ago, while I was in training, that an attending accepted a moribund woman from a faraway place in the hinterlands.  She had multiple hepatitides and uncontrolled bleeding from esophageal varices.  A collective groan among the housestaff met notification of the incoming transfer which would keep everybody up all night with the inevitable death forestalled only briefly, and in a streak of his usual candor, the attending admitted that he accepted her not because he thought there was anything that could be done to help or save her, but because she would serve as good "procedure meat for the interns."  And the interns were like:

There are a lot of problems with that entire episode as I reflect upon it, and I won't dissect them all here.  I've been thinking about procedure meat because I so often see physicians feasting on it, to the peril of the patients.  Ideally, each and every procedure that is done ought to be done because it is in the patient's best interest to have it done.  All too often, ulterior motives and unstated goals creep into decision frameworks and lead to unnecessary procedures and therapeutic misadventures.  To combat this problem, we need to start nudging physicians to consider and patients to ask directly, "Is this procedure the best thing for me?  Are there alternatives?  Do the expected benefits outweigh the costs and risks?  Where will I be in six days, six weeks, six months, and six years as a result of the proposed procedure?  Where will I be at those times without it?"

A Poor Predictor is Worse than No Predictor: On the Superiority of Empiricism in Some Medical Decisions

John Locke, empiricist.

The moral of this story is that much maligned empiricism is sometimes (often?) both the only thing to guide you and also the best thing to guide you.

I recently received a call (at an odd hour on the weekend) from an otolaryngologist (ENT) regarding a patient from whom she had drained a large submandibular abcess.  She was calling to tell me that she planned to leave the patient intubated in the ICU overnight and she wanted "help with ventilator management" (which of course the patient does not need - he can be managed with an endotracheal tube not connected to any mechanical ventilator).  The patient did not have airway compromise or concerns thereof prior to surgery, but, she said, there was swelling noted after the case that (for her) raised concerns about the patency of the patient's airway if the endotracheal tube were to be removed.

(There is a second moral to this story: far too often, patients such as this are left intubated post-operatively not for their own safety, but rather for the convenience of surgeons and anesthesiologists who do not wish to spend the extra time awakening them from anesthesia and observing them carefully in the post-anesthesia care unit.  It is far easier to not fret over the depth of anesthesia, atelectasis, oxygen levels, fluid status, and leave the patient intubated and send them to the ICU and let somebody else sort it out.  If I had a family member undergo a relatively routine, even if urgent or emergent operation at an odd hour [holidays, weekends, after hours] and they were sent to the ICU post-op for no apparently good reason, there would be hell to pay.  Note also that for the surgeon and anesthesiologist to save an hour of their time, another physician has to drive to the hospital to take over for them spending hours of his time, and also often a nurse must be called in from home to accommodate the unexpected post-op admission [as was the case here].  The sheer arrogance and egocnetricity of this is mind-boggling.  But I digress.)

Back to the story.  I naturally inquired as to what criteria we would use the next day to determine if the patient's oropharyngeal swelling had abated sufficiently such that we could safely extubate him.  The ENT replied that she would scope (endoscopy) the patient again in the morning and if the swelling had decreased we could proceed with extubation (removing the endotracheal tube).  Well and good.  Or is it?

Countless Hours, Part 3: Uncalibrated Interns and Immediate and Accurate Feedback

Immediate, accurate feedback begets calibration

In this third and final installment of Countless Hours:  How to Become a Stellar Student and An Incredible Intern, I will discuss the role of immediate and accurate feedback for the refinement of a skill, prediction, or prognostication to expert levels.

Imagine you are learning to play golf, but you can't see where your balls are going - it would be very difficult, without any feedback to learn to modify your swing to improve your game.  Similarly, if the feedback you received were from an observer with poor vision, and it was not accurate, you would be trying to calibrate your swing to unreliable information and your game would not improve insomuch as the feedback was inaccurate.  Finally, if you did not receive the feedback on your swings until days later, it would be difficult to analyze it and adapt your game to it, compared with iterative feedback incorporated after each swing.

The same principles apply to learning the practice of medicine.  One of the reasons that the case study books mentioned in the previous post are so instructive is that they provide immediate, and accurate feedback - you get to know if your diagnosis was correct immediately after rendering it, and this feedback, from the experts who wrote the book (often with formal or informal peer review and editing), is presumably as accurate as you can hope for.  Thus, case based practice is a very very effective way to become an expert.

Then there is the "hands on" work you do on the wards and in clinic.  Here, feedback is, on average, less immediate, and less accurate, and this is one of the ways your learning in "real life" scenarios is compromised - but there are several things you can do about it to maximize the immediacy and accuracy of feedback in these environments.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light: The Fighter and the Pyrrhic Victory

It's only been two days since my last post on prognosis and end-of-life care in the ICU, and I'm anxious to blog about today's NEJM article on low tidal volume in the operating room on the Medical Evidence Blog, but the happenings around me already today mandate another post about realistic prognostication and it's effective communication.

When I make an assessment of a patient in the ICU, my list of summary conditions and conclusions often looks something like this:




ASSESSMENT:

1. Advanced age
2. Poor Functional Status
3. Malnutrition/Cachexia
4. Swallowing dysfunction
5. S/P fall and hip fracture
6. Aspiration pneumonia
7. Congestive Heart Failure
8. Respiratory failure
9. Renal failure
10. Poor Prognosis for both survival and return to independent livinng
    

This is not the norm.  The norm is to methodically list all of the acute and chronic medicalized and pathophysiologically interesting diagnoses.  In that vein, obvious things that can't be traced to a medically interesting and well delineated disease cascade are left out (such as advanced age and poor functional status.)