Showing posts with label endotracheal tube. Show all posts
Showing posts with label endotracheal tube. Show all posts

Monday, August 17, 2015

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?

Monday, October 28, 2013

Your Last Words for a Few More Breaths: Unspoken Trade-offs in End-of-Life Care

A man with widely metastatic cancer is admitted to the hospital for shortness of breath, deteriorates in spite of broad spectrum care, and is transferred to the ICU.  The patient is documented to be "full code" and, while the prospect of "coding" him is unsettling for his providers, they struggle to articulate exactly why.  (Correct intuitions are often difficult to dissect and describe.)  Often the discussion (amongst themselves or with the family) centers on the direct, observable, physical aspects of suffering that must be borne by the patient during the resuscitation process and/or the transition to life support.  "Breaking of ribs" and the like.

But years of quiet and thoughtful reflection identifies some second order and often unspoken nuances of the transition to life support that are perhaps more important than the first order physical aspects.  When the man dying of cancer deteriorates to the point that his oxygen saturation cannot be supported without life support or his respiratory distress is too severe, and I position myself behind that bed, propofol and an 8.0 (endotracheal tube) in hands, I know the oft unspoken truth - that this is the last time that this man will be indubitably conscious and coherent or will speak to anyone, most notably his family.  Insomuch as life consists of an interaction with one's environment, with a central focus on social interactions, the patient dies the moment I induce with propofol and insert that tube between the vocal cords.  He has traded his last words for a few more breaths.  (He has also traded away his ability to enjoy food or drink.)