“Medical
students of those decades had other hard things to learn about…duties required
experience to be done well…needed a mixture of intense curiosity about people
in general and an inborn capacity for affection, hard to come by but
indispensable for a good doctor.”
Lewis
Thomas got a lot of things right. I am currently reading my grandfather’s copy
of Thomas’s book The Youngest Science
and I am struck – chapter after chapter – by his insight. Whatever role Thomas
most closely identified with (according to the perfectly-accurate Wikipedia, he
was a physician, poet, etymologist, essayist, administrator, educator, policy
advisor, and researcher), he was a brilliant man. Plus, in his time, you were
expected to simply figure certain things out on your own — things like, say,
respecting a patient and genuinely caring for them. I don’t officially start
school until next week, but I have heard rumors that there will be a fair bit
of memorization. Fair enough, given how much medical science has already been
discovered by people other than me…but still. I like what Thomas had to say:
“What
I remember now, from this distance, is the influence of my classmates. We
taught each other; we may have even set careers for each other without
realizing at the time that so fundamental an educational process was even going
on. I am not so troubled as I used to be by the need to reform the medical
school curriculum. What worries me these days is that the curriculum, whatever
its sequential arrangement, has become so crowded with lectures and seminars,
with such masses of data to be learned, that the students may not be having
enough time to instruct each other in what may lie ahead.”
This
is loosely related to my thoughts on the recent online HIPAA training that
entering medical students had to complete. (I still often spell HIPAA with two
p’s instead of two a’s, since the only word like it is “hippo.” Anyhow, few
people even know that it stands for Health Insurance Portability and Accountability
Act.) In 1996, when it was first passed, the idea was to protect a patient’s
access to insurance even if they lost their job or had a pre-existing
condition. Today, HIPAA is an elephantine (or, you know, hippopotamutine?) set
of laws governing documents such as electronic medical records and other
confusing new things.
What
I really want to talk about, though, is whether some of this law-making and
law-memorizing is actually a selfish desire of doctors to protect themselves
from malpractice suits. Do policies sometimes get in the way of efficiency and
good care? I start to wonder if we have lost faith in people’s abilities to
make good judgment calls. These are things I learned in HIPAA training:
“A doctor cannot give a diaper company the names of
pregnant patients without an authorization.”
“A patient can see another patient’s name on a sign-in
sheet if no medical information is on the sheet or may hear a patient’s name as
it is called in the waiting room.”
“Speak in soft tones when discussing protected health information.”
“Use (but do not share) computer passwords.”
Really?
REALLY?!?!? People who got into medical school couldn’t have figured those
things out on their own? This worries me.
Of
course, I recognize that some good things have come out of privacy protection
laws. Perhaps doctors think twice before leaving a voicemail with test results
(it could be a landline with a message machine the whole family listens to!).
Perhaps they reconsider which assistants have access to what data. Perhaps they
specifically ask patients who they want in the room when they talk about
prognosis. Perhaps they double check fax numbers before sending records (or
perhaps no one uses fax machines anymore?).
Then
again, this should have been common sense, right? I have mixed feelings about
all of this, and could easily point to more examples that highlight either the
pros or cons of the heightened awareness. Mostly, though, I want us to think
more about it. You all (the whopping three of you who read this blog) have good
imaginations and analytical skills. Go at it.
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