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Tag: early stages

  • A Modest Proposal to Save Mothers’ Lives

    A Modest Proposal to Save Mothers’ Lives

    At the busy county hospital where I did my medical residency, we cared for patients with every imaginable problem. But one part of treatment was always the same: As soon as it was deemed medically safe, a physical or occupational therapist would visit each and every patient. In the intensive-care unit, a physical therapist might assist a patient into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. An occupational therapist might help her relearn how to hold a fork after weeks of being fed by a tube. On the general-medical and surgical wards, at least one or two patients could always be found walking the long hallways with a walker or cane, a strong and amiable physical therapist keeping pace beside them, casually asking crucial questions: “Are there any stairs in your home?” “Who does the laundry and cooking?” “Who will be around to help you?”

    But there was one area of the hospital where physical and occupational therapists weren’t involved in patient care: the maternity ward. In many hospitals, this is still true. Although I now work in outpatient OB-GYN care, my colleagues in Labor and Delivery confirm that PT/OT doesn’t have a large presence there. Amy Willats, a nurse-midwife in the San Francisco Bay Area, told me that she orders physical therapy for new mothers only in rare circumstances—“when someone is in so much pain, they can’t walk to the bathroom.” As for occupational therapy, she said, “it’s not even on my radar.”

    Some physical and occupational therapists want this status quo to change. They believe that everyone who gives birth should receive a PT/OT evaluation prior to discharge, with the same goal as for any other hospitalized patient: to prepare them to move around safely and comfortably at home. I remember how easily, in the chaotic world of the hospital, I could overlook the quiet work of physical and occupational therapists. But the extra layer of attention and care they provide could help millions of new mothers recover faster—and may even save lives.

    Pregnant women and new mothers are, in a sense, different from other hospitalized patients. Doctors tend to think of them as healthy young people undergoing a normal, natural process, one that should require serious medical intervention only occasionally. This is how my patients tend to see themselves too—and most of them do go on to live normal, if changed, lives. By this philosophy, what new mothers need isn’t intensive rehab, but a brief period (one or two days) of observation, some education about how to feed and care for their baby, and then a timely discharge home, with a single postpartum visit a few weeks later. Indeed, this laissez-faire approach is the standard of care in many U.S. hospitals.

    But as the U.S. faces a surging maternal-mortality rate, with more than half of maternal deaths occurring after delivery, physicians are now in wide agreement that the standard of care needs to change. Pregnant women in the U.S. are not as young as they once were. Pregnancy and childbirth can present grave dangers—particularly when a woman already has underlying health conditions. A vaginal delivery is an intense physiological event that involves the rapid expansion and then contraction of the musculoskeletal system, along with dramatic shifts in hormones, blood volume, and heart rate. A Cesarean section is a major surgery that involves cutting through layers of skin, fascia, and muscle—and that’s if everything goes perfectly.

    Rebeca Segraves, a Washington State–based doctor of physical therapy specializing in women’s health, told me she was struck early in her career by the realization that women undergoing a C-section did not receive routine postoperative PT. She was used to performing inpatient evaluations for patients recovering from relatively minor illnesses and surgeries, such as pneumonia, gallbladder removal, and prostatectomy. But after a C-section, she says, a PT evaluation “just wasn’t the culture.” She set out to change that.

    For most people, if the phrase postpartum physical therapy calls to mind anything at all, it’s pelvic-floor PT. In the early 2010s, American women living abroad introduced U.S. audiences to the French practice of perineal “reeducation,” a comprehensive exercise regimen prescribed for every postpartum mother and subsidized by the French government, designed to retrain the muscles of the pelvic floor after birth. Since then, U.S. researchers and the popular press have documented the widespread and devastating effects of urinary incontinence, pelvic-organ prolapse, and chronic pelvic pain—issues that can be overlooked or dismissed at the postpartum visit.

    But Segraves is arguing for postpartum PT/OT that goes beyond the pelvic floor. Segraves has developed an approach called “enhanced recovery after delivery” (ERAD), essentially a training program for OB-GYN departments and hospital-based PT/OT staff that encourages an evaluation for every woman after childbirth. ERAD includes an assessment of body mechanics and cardiopulmonary function, gait retraining, infant lifting and lowering techniques, and (in the case of C-section) incision-protection training. Crucially, a therapist also monitors the woman’s bodily responses—such as pain and vital signs—while she practices these simple home activities in the hospital.

    Segraves believes that these interventions could be lifesaving. Warning signs of the major postpartum killers—including preeclampsia, stroke, hemorrhage, and infection—sometimes manifest right away, but in many cases they don’t appear until a woman returns home, where they may go unrecognized. The more attention paid to new mothers in the hospital—particularly while they’re moving around, Segraves argues—the more likely providers are to catch these warning signs.

    As an example, Segraves told me about a patient she met a few years ago who had suffered a third-degree perineal laceration (a particularly severe birth injury) during a vaginal delivery. At the time, Segraves was primarily focused on providing physical therapy after C-sections, but her team advocated for this woman to receive a PT evaluation prior to discharge. When the woman tried to stand and walk, her blood pressure shot to a dangerously high level. Ultimately, the patient was transferred to the ICU and diagnosed with severe preeclampsia.

    Anecdotes like these make a powerful case for universal PT/OT for new mothers. But as yet, there’s no proof that it could affect postpartum outcomes on a large scale. To get this kind of evidence, Segraves will need a clinical trial. So far, she told me, she’s gotten a grant to study physicians’ and therapists’ attitudes toward routine postpartum PT/OT.

    Her research is in the early stages, but my conversations with maternal-care specialists suggest that attitudes are mixed. Olga Ramm, a urogynecologist in the San Francisco Bay Area, told me she worries that PT/OT for all pregnant women could be hard to implement universally, “because so much of it really depends on that interpersonal relationship and connection between the patient and the therapist.” Funding is an issue too: Physical and occupational therapists are licensed professionals whose services aren’t cheap, and many hospitals are already strapped for cash and staff. Adding a PT/OT evaluation for every hospitalized patient “seems like a fairly expensive way” to bolster postpartum services, Ramm said. Willats, the nurse-midwife, agreed. “The way we educate people should change,” she said. “We don’t necessarily need a different group of people to do that education.”

    Then again, physical and occupational therapists may be uniquely positioned to do this work. Unlike doctors, who are usually trained to think about patients as sick or healthy, PTs and OTs are interested in how a person’s body serves her in her daily life—what Segraves calls “roles and routines.” This means seeing a new mother as someone who is about to return home in a changed body, who will need to lift, rock, and soothe a newborn; perform heavy chores such as cleaning and laundry; and perhaps breastfeed that newborn, whose kicking feet land right on a fresh C-section scar. PT/OT is about helping her adapt to all of these changes with intention and care.

    Doctors and patients tend to think of physical therapy as primarily a set of rehab exercises that help a patient recover from an injury. But another way to view PT and OT is as an opportunity, inside the overwhelming world of the hospital, for a skilled professional to see and treat the patient as a whole person. Segraves told me the story of a young woman with a high-risk pregnancy and a prolonged hospital stay, during which baby gifts from friends and family piled up around the room. After several agonizing weeks, she delivered a stillbirth by C-section. A few days later, Segraves watched as an occupational therapist sat by the patient’s side, helping her fold all of those tiny newborn clothes, tucking them neatly back into gift bags for her to take home. At that moment, Segraves said with a touch of awe in her voice, the young woman was “more functional than any of us had seen her up to that point.”

    When I consider this story, I can’t help but recall the therapists strolling the hallways of my residency hospital, asking my patients questions I’d never bothered to address—about their home, their life, their “roles and routines.” Really, the questions they were asking were much deeper—and exactly the ones that are central to new motherhood: How will you manage in this new body, this new life? Who will you be?

    Christine Henneberg

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  • Trump’s Republican Rivals Are Missing an Obvious Opportunity

    Trump’s Republican Rivals Are Missing an Obvious Opportunity

    After his historic indictment was announced Thursday night, former President Donald Trump reacted with his characteristic cool and precision: “These Thugs and Radical Left Monsters have just INDICATED the 45th President of the United States of America.” Presumably this was a typo, and he meant INDICTED. But the immediate joining of arms around the martyr was indeed a perfect indication of precisely who the Republicans are right now.

    “When Trump wins, THESE PEOPLE WILL PAY!!” Representative Ronny Jackson of Texas vowed.

    “If they can come for him, they can come for anyone,” added Representative Andy Biggs, Republican of Arizona—or at least come for anyone who has allegedly paid $130,000 in hush money to a former porn-star paramour (and particularly anyone who allegedly had unprotected sex with her shortly after his third wife had given birth).

    As usual, the Republicans’ latest rush to umbrage on behalf of Trump, before the indictment is even unsealed, was imbued with its own meaning—namely, about what the party has allowed itself to become in service to him. Trump is no longer just Republicans’ unmoveable leader; he is their everyman. His life is not some spectacularly corrupt and immoral web—but rather his victimization has become a proxy for their own imagined mistreatment.

    And soon enough, Trump has promised, he will be their “retribution.” He is their patron crybaby.

    The GOP’s ongoing willingness to fuse itself to Trump’s deranged and slippery character has been its most defining feature for years. The question is why it continues, after all these embarrassments and election defeats. And why Republicans, at long last, don’t use the former president’s mounting milestones of malfeasance as a means of setting themselves free from their orange albatross.

    The popular assumption among Republicans that Trump’s indictment strengthens him politically shows how cowed they all still are. Yes, Trump’s indictment is “unprecedented,” as his defenders keep reminding us. But this is not necessarily flattering to the former president. They perceive him to be invulnerable, and he behaves as such. In their continued awe, they see their only choice as continued capitulation.

    There is, of course, an alternate response: the exact opposite. “My fellow Americans, I am personally against paying hush money to porn stars. Maybe I am naive or even, forgive me, a bit conservative in how I choose to live my life. But it is my personal view that our leaders, especially those seeking our highest office, should not be serial liars, should not be subject to multiple state and federal investigations, and should not call for the termination of the Constitution in order to re-install themselves as president against the democratic will of the American people.

    In some long-ago Republican universe, there would in fact be a dash to condemn the former president’s words and conduct. This is not who we are, some might say, or try to claim. Sure, there could be some old-fashioned political opportunism involved here. (It wouldn’t be the first time!) But what politician wouldn’t seize such an opening to score points?

    Instead, the response from the GOP’s putative leaders was as predictable as the indictment news itself. Ron DeSantis, the Florida governor who supposedly represents the Republicans’ most promising possible break from Trump in 2024, seized the chance to pander his way back into the old tent. He vowed that Florida would “not assist in an extradition request” that might come from Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg, whose office is responsible for the indictment. DeSantis called the indictment “un-American” and dismissed Bragg as a “Soros-backed Manhattan District Attorney” (bonus points for Ron, getting Soros in there).

    DeSantis also cited the “political agenda” behind the indictment. Or “witch hunt,” as it was decried by distinguished elder statesmen and women such as Representatives Matt Gaetz, Lauren Boebert, and George Santos, among others. Gee, where do they learn such phrases?

    Former Vice President Mike Pence announced on CNN that he was “outraged” by the “unprecedented indictment of a former president.” (Pence, of course, expressed far more “outrage” over Trump’s predicament than he ever publicly did over his former boss leaving him to potentially be hanged at the Capitol on January 6, 2021.) Meanwhile, former South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley, one of Trump’s few official 2024 challengers, rejected Bragg’s move as “more about revenge than it is about justice.” Senator Tim Scott, another possible presidential rival, condemned Bragg as a “pro-criminal New York DA” who has “weaponized the law against political enemies.”

    No one knows yet how solid Bragg’s case against Trump is. But there are simple alternatives to this ritual circling of the withering wagons every time Trump lands himself in even deeper trouble. “We need to wait on the facts and for our American system of justice to work like it does for thousands of Americans every day,” Asa Hutchinson, the Republican former governor of Arkansas, said in a statement, offering one such alternative.

    Or, speaking to the matter at hand, “being indicted never helps anybody,” former New Jersey Governor Chris Christie said recently on ABC’s This Week. In a normal world, this would represent the ultimate duh statement. But among today’s Republicans, Christie was making himself an outlier.

    In the early stages of the 2024 Republican primary, Christie has been the rare figure to step into a “lane” that’s been left strangely wide open. Christie dropped into New Hampshire on Monday and continued to tease the notion that he might run for president again himself. He pummeled Trump while doing so—and sure, good for Christie, I guess. Better several years late than never.

    He makes for an imperfect messenger, this onetime Trump toady of Trenton. My elite political instincts lead me to suspect Christie will not go on to become our 46th president. But his feisty drop into Manchester was constructive nonetheless. “When you put yourself ahead of our democracy as president of the United States, it’s over,” Christie told a receptive crowd at Saint Anselm College, referring to Trump’s refusal to accept his defeat in 2020 and subsequent efforts to sabotage the transfer of power. I found myself nodding along to Christie’s words, and willing to overlook, for now at least, his past record of bootlicking. If nothing else, Christie knows Trump well and understands his tender spots.

    You don’t always get the pugilists you want. Especially when the likes of DeSantis, Pence, Haley, et al., have shown no appetite for the job. The leading contenders to beat Trump in the primary have offered, to this point, only the most flaccid critiques of the former president, who—perhaps not coincidentally—seems to be only expanding his lead in the (very) early polling.

    If Trump has demonstrated one thing in his political career—dating to his initial cannonball into the pool of the 2016 campaign—it is that he thrives in the absence of resistance. In his initial foray, none of Trump’s chief Republican rivals, including Senators Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio, bothered to take him on until he was well ensconced as the front-runner. Christie was himself a towering titan of timidity in that campaign. He dropped out after finishing sixth in the New Hampshire primary and immediately led the charge to Trump’s backside.

    This time around, DeSantis, viewed by many Trump-weary Republicans as the top contingency candidate, has barely said a critical word about the former president. Trump, in turn, has been pulverizing the Florida man for months, dismissing him as an “average governor.”

    Meanwhile, Pence has managed only to rebuke Trump at a private dinner of Washington journalists. Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin, a favorite of many Republican donors and consultants, recently told Politico that he prefers leaders who can “disagree with people without being disagreeable.” He then summarized what sets him apart from Trump. “We just have different styles,” Youngkin concluded. Ah yes, if only Trump had a more agreeable “style,” everything would be cool.

    Or maybe Republicans should consider a change in “style.” The delicate deference they continue to afford Trump—through two impeachments, repeatedly poor election showings, and (at least) one indictment—seems only to have solidified his hold over them.

    Campaigns are supposed to be “disagreeable” sometimes, right? Especially when the face of your party is about to become a mug shot.

    Mark Leibovich

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  • The Masks We’ll Wear in the Next Pandemic

    The Masks We’ll Wear in the Next Pandemic

    On one level, the world’s response to the coronavirus pandemic over the past two and half years was a major triumph for modern medicine. We developed COVID vaccines faster than we’d developed any vaccine in history, and began administering them just a year after the virus first infected humans. The vaccines turned out to work better than top public-health officials had dared hope. In tandem with antiviral treatments, they’ve drastically reduced the virus’s toll of severe illness and death, and helped hundreds of millions of Americans resume something approximating pre-pandemic life.

    And yet on another level, the pandemic has demonstrated the inadequacy of such pharmaceutical interventions. In the time it took vaccines to arrive, more than 300,000 people died of COVID-19 in America alone. Even since, waning immunity and the semi-regular emergence of new variants have made for an uneasy détente. Another 700,000 Americans have died over that period, vaccines and antivirals notwithstanding.

    For some pandemic-prevention experts, the takeaway here is that pharmaceutical interventions alone simply won’t cut it. Though shots and drugs may be essential to softening a virus’s blow once it arrives, they are by nature reactive rather than preventive. To guard against future pandemics, what we should focus on, some experts say, is attacking viruses where they’re most vulnerable, before pharmaceutical interventions are even necessary. Specifically, they argue, we should be focusing on the air we breathe. “We’ve dealt with a lot of variants, we’ve dealt with a lot of strains, we’ve dealt with other respiratory pathogens in the past,” Abraar Karan, an infectious-disease physician and global-health expert at Stanford, told me. “The one thing that’s stayed consistent is the route of transmission.” The most fearsome pandemics are airborne.

    Numerous overlapping efforts are under way to stave off future outbreaks by improving air quality. Many scientists have long advocated for overhauling the way we ventilate indoor spaces, which has the potential to transform our air in much the same way that the advent of sewer systems transformed our water. Some researchers are similarly enthusiastic about the promise of germicidal lighting. Retrofitting a nation’s worth of buildings with superior ventilation systems or germicidal lighting is likely a long-term mission, though, requiring large-scale institutional buy-in and probably a considerable amount of government funding. Meanwhile, a more niche subgroup has zeroed in on what is, at least in theory, a somewhat simpler undertaking: designing the perfect mask.

    Two and a half years into this pandemic, it’s hard to believe that the masks widely available to us today are pretty much the same masks that were available to us in January 2020. N95s, the gold standard as far as the average person is concerned, are quite good: They filter out at least 95 percent of .3-micron particles—hence N95—and are generally the masks of preference in hospitals. And yet, anyone who has worn one over the past two and a half years will know that, lucky as we are to have them, they are not the most comfortable. At a certain point, they start to hurt your ears or your nose or your whole face. When you finally unmask after a lengthy flight, you’re liable to look like a raccoon. Most existing N95s are not reusable, and although each individual mask is pretty cheap, the costs can add up over time. They impede communication, preventing people from seeing the wearer’s facial expressions or reading their lips. And because they require fit-testing, the efficacy for the average wearer probably falls well short of the advertised 95 percent. In 2009, the federal government published a report with 28 recommendations to improve masks for health-care workers. Few seem to have been taken.

    These shortcomings are part of what has made efforts to get people to wear masks an uphill battle. What’s more,Over the course of the pandemic, several new companies have submitted new mask designs to NIOSH, the federal agency tasked with certifying and regulating masks,. Few, if any, have so far been certified. The agency appears to be overworked and underfunded. In addition, Joe and Kim Rosenberg, who in the early stages of the pandemic launched a mask company that applied unsuccessfully for NIOSH approval, told me the certification process is somewhat circular: A successful application requires huge amounts of capital, which in turn require huge amounts of investment, but investors generally like to see data showing that the masks work as advertised in, say, a hospital, and masks cannot be tested in a hospital without prior NIOSH approval. (NIOSH did not respond to a request for comment.)

    New products aside, there do already exist masks that outperform standard N95s in one way or another. Elastomeric respirators are reusable masks that you outfit with replaceable filters. Depending on the filter you use, the mask can be as effective as an N95 or even more so. When equipped with HEPA-quality filters, elastomerics filter out 99.97 percent of particles. And they come in both half-facepiece versions (which cover the nose and mouth) and full-facepiece versions (which also cover the eyes). Another option are PAPRs, or powered air-purifying respirators—hooded, battery-powered masks that cover the wearer’s entire head and constantly blow HEPA-filtered air for the wearer to breathe.

    Given the challenges of persuading many Americans to wear even flimsy surgical masks during the past couple of years, though, the issues with these superior masks—the current models, at least—are probably disqualifying as far as widespread adoption would go in future outbreaks. Elastomerics generally are bulky, expensive, limit range of motion, obscure the mouth, and require fit testing to ensure efficacy. PAPRs have a transparent facepiece and in many cases don’t require fit testing, but they’re also bulky, currently cost more than $1,000 each, and, because they’re battery-powered, can be quite noisy. Neither, let me assure you, is the sort of thing you’d want to wear to the movie theater.

    The people who seem most fixated on improving masks are a hodgepodge of biologists, biosecurity experts, and others whose chief concern is not another COVID-like pandemic but something even more terrifying: a deliberate act of bioterrorism. In the apocalyptic scenarios that most worry them—which, to be clear, are speculative—bioterrorists release at least one highly transmissible pathogen with a lethality in the range of, say, 40 to 70 percent. (COVID’s is about 1 percent.) Because this would be a novel virus, we wouldn’t yet have vaccines or antivirals. The only way to avoid complete societal collapse would be to supply essential workers with PPE that they can be confident will provide infallible protection against infection—so-called perfect PPE. In such a scenario, N95s would be insufficient, Kevin Esvelt, an evolutionary biologist at MIT, told me: “70-percent-lethality virus, 95 percent protection—wouldn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”

    Existing masks that use HEPA filters may well be sufficiently protective in this worst-case scenario, but not even that is a given, Esvelt told me. Vaishnav Sunil, who runs the PPE project at Esvelt’s lab, thinks that PAPRs show the most promise, because they do not require fit testing. At the moment, the MIT team is surveying existing products to determine how to proceed. Their goal, ultimately, is to ensure that the country can distribute completely protective masks to every essential worker, which is firstly a problem of design and secondly a problem of logistics. The mask Esvelt’s team is looking for might already be out there, just selling for too high a price, in which case they’ll concentrate on bringing that price down. Or they might need to design something from scratch, in which case, at least initially, their work will mainly consist of new research. More likely, Sunil told me, they’ll identify the best available product and make modest adjustments to improve comfort, breathability, useability, and efficacy.

    Esvelt’s team is far from the only group exploring masking’s future. Last year, the federal government began soliciting submissions for a mask-design competition intended to spur technological development. The results were nothing if not creative: Among the 10 winning prototypes selected in the competition’s first phase were a semi-transparent mask, an origami mask, and a mask for babies with a pacifier on the inside.

    In the end, the questions of how much we should invest in improving masks and how we should actually improve them boil down to a deeper question about which possible future pandemic concerns you most. If your answer is a bioengineered attack, then naturally you’ll commit significant resources to perfecting efficacy and improving masks more generally, given that, in such a pandemic, masks may well be the only thing that can save us. If your answer is SARS-CoV-3, then you might worry less about efficacy and spend proportionally more on vaccines and antivirals. This is not a cheery choice to make. But it is an important one as we inch our way out of our current pandemic and toward whatever waits for us down the road.

    For the elderly and immunocompromised, super-effective masks could be useful even outside a worst-case scenario. But more traditional public-health experts, who don’t put as much stock in the possibility of a highly lethal, deliberate pandemic, are less concerned about perfecting efficacy for the general public. The greater gains, they say, will come not from marginally improving the efficacy of existing highly effective masks but from getting more people to wear highly effective masks in the first place. “It’s important to make masks easier for people to use, more comfortable and more effective,” Linsey Marr, an environmental engineer at Virginia Tech, told me. It wouldn’t hurt to make them a little more fashionable either, she said. Also important is reusability, Jassi Pannu, a fellow at the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security, told me, because in a pandemic stockpiles of single-use products will almost always run out.

    Stanford’s Karan envisions a world in which everyone in the country has their own elastomeric respirator—not, in most cases, for everyday use, but available when necessary. Rather than constantly replenishing your stock of reusable masks, you would simply swap out the filters in your elastomeric (or perhaps it will be a PAPR) every so often. The mask would be transparent, so that a friend could see your smile, and relatively comfortable, so that you could wear it all day without it cutting into your nose or pulling on your ears. When you came home at night, you would spend a few minutes disinfecting it.

    Karan’s vision might be a distant one. America’s tensions over masking throughout the pandemic give little reason to hope for any unified or universal uptake in future catastrophes. And even if that happened, everyone I spoke with agrees that masks alone are not a solution. They’re almost certainly the smallest part of the effort to ensure that the air we breathe is clean, to change the physical world to stop viral transmission before it happens. Even so, making and distributing millions of masks is almost certainly easier than installing superior ventilation systems or germicidal lighting in buildings across the country. Masks, if nothing else, are the low-hanging fruit. “We can deal with dirty water, and we can deal with cleaning surfaces,” Karan told me. “But when it comes to cleaning the air, we’re very, very far behind.”

    Jacob Stern

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