Month: February 2016

Observations on the Emergency Care and Treatment Plan

The Emergency Care & Treatment Plan, developed by the Resuscitation Council, is out for public consultation. It is hoped that going through this with patients or their representatives will lead to fuller discussions and earlier decisions regarding levels of care and resuscitation.


Speaking as a clinician, it is a welcome development. It marries two strands of decision making that have too frequently been separated – escalation and resuscitation. For patients at risk of deterioration the headline decision has always been about CPR, because there is a ‘form for that’ (I am not being facetious), it is a binary process (For CPR or Not For CPR) and the harms of inappropriate resuscitation are very visible. Escalation is a more nuanced issue, harder to explain to patients and harder for medical trainees, and sometimes consultants, to get their heads round. It is often neglected until the patient has begun to deteriorate, at which point a flurry of activity is triggered. Families are called in for rushed discussions, intensive care teams summoned to give their opinion about the appropriateness of organ support, consultants in charge are phoned in clinic to make a final decision… and the patient is often too ill to be involved at all. To have these eventualities anticipated would be so helpful, but because no one really knows what is going to happen in the future, or what treatments might be needed, making specific plans is a major challenge.

The ‘easy’ scenario contains the alert patient with acute illness that is not life-threatening in the very short term. There is time to explore their wishes, anticipate possible deterioration and judge potential interventions against their likely benefits and burdens. The more vexing situation involves the acutely ill, frail and elderly patient with temporary or permanent cognitive impairment. They may or may not be accompanied by a close relative or other representative. The atmosphere may be hectic and distressed. Often, despite the patient’s extreme age or clear frailty, the possibility of dying will not have been considered or discussed at home. How to approach the proposed ECTP form?

The form has three boxes which signify the patient’s preferred approach to management. Based on a combination of the patient’s medical condition, prognosis and spoken or reported wishes/goals, it is necessary to choose one of them.


There is a great deal of overlap. Even if the ‘priority is to get better’ (Box 1), a parallel priority of equal importance is ‘comfort’. I would want both, personally. It is interesting how these boxes reveal the fact, not necessarily understood by patients, that medical interventions can come at a price – discomfort or distress. Prolonged dependence on say, a ventilator, is of course appropriate if you are a 35-year old with severe pneumonia, but not if you are 94 with advanced fibrotic lung disease. So who will go for box 1? The young, the middle aged, the previously well… the minority of our admissions. In fact many in this category would not require a ECTP, because it is so obvious that all available interventions should be considered.

And box 3, at the other end of the spectrum? This will be for patients with clear life-limiting conditions, some of whom will have anticipated dying (eg. metastatic cancer not responding to therapy, or advanced cardio-respiratory disease), and some of whom will voice their desire to be kept comfortable and not be interfered with. For the doctor and patient to choose box 3 will require a degree of surety, for it leads to a palliative approach. It signals to other medical teams that medical care should not be escalated. Such surety is quite rare, and box 3, like box 1, will probably account for a minority of patients.

So Box 2 is for the majority. It emphasises both efficacy and comfort. By initialling Box 2 the doctor and the patient will need to think about what treatments to include and exclude. How do you work out what treatments would and would not be wanted? There are many treatments, and for patients they are hard to visualise.

The major, relevant categories that come to my mind are: mechanical ventilation, dialysis/haemofiltration, central line insertion, non-invasive (mask) ventilation, feeding tube insertion, intravenous fluids, intravenous antibiotics… there are many more. It is the doctor’s job, in completing this form, to decide what is relevant to the situation, what should and should not be explored, and to advise on what should and should not be done. All this is in a humane way that does not force the patient to visualise themselves in various situations, or reflecting overmuch on their possible death (which is just not kind after a while).

Doctors develop and use acronyms and stock phrases on the forms that they use. It is not lazy, more a tendency to encapsulate complex concepts in an easy to replicate manner. I think it is unlikely that doctors will list specific treatments exhaustively under box 2. Much more likely they will use catch-all terms like ‘not for escalation to ICU’ or ‘not for artificial hydration and nutrition (ANH)’. Specific positives, like ‘for trial of mask ventilation’ or ‘consider trial of circulatory support’ are a possibility.

Such written indications, if understood and agreed to by patients or families, will be very helpful to on-call medical teams and are the great potential benefit of the ECTP. But to achieve this aim requires considerable skill and experience on the part of doctors. These conversations, which I agree are to be welcomed and necessary, will be long, delicate, and complex. Doctors will need to help to develop effective but sensitive techniques to facilitate and lead the discussions. It will take time, serious time. But if it can be done, I think it will bring about the engagement and shared decision making that has often been missed due to the unanticipated and uncontrolled deterioration that will always occur in hospitals.


A public survey on the ECTP is open until 29th February

I recommend Dr Laura-Jane Smith’s constructive blog post on this subject; if any of my comments overlap with hers I apologise!



‘That’s not my area’

that's not my area

An account, written for the Guardian by an elderly patient’s daughter, described how nobody treated her as a complete person in hospital.

“Nobody will look at the whole of me,” my mum said on her third stay in hospital this year. “It’s like a department store. You go to a bit of it and they say, ‘Sorry we don’t do that here. We just look at this.’ Nobody is interested in my legs.” Her legs were massively swollen, dry and cracked and purple-black by this time.

It was a heartfelt cry for holistic care. And it touched a nerve in me, because I have heard and received similar accusations in my role as a hospital consultant. It got me thinking – What is expected? What is it that patients want?

The answer might seem obvious: Doctors and nurses who do not focus on individual systems or organs. Teams who address their patients with respect, as people with a past, a social existence, a meaningful and self-determined life lived for many years before circumstances forced them through the door of the hospital. All lovely… but what specifically? Patients want their thoughts and ideas heeded, their opinions acknowledged and taken seriously while treatment plans are formed. They want medically ‘trivial’ complaints given as much time as major diseases, as it this these that can irritate or reduce quality of life just as much. They want clear feedback on the innumerable tests. They want to know the plan and comment on it. They want to know how long it will all take. These considerations do not seem revolutionary; they seem nothing more than… decent. Nevertheless, it seems that we often fail in delivering such unspectacular aspirations.

As a consultant I am always careful to explore the broader reality beyond the defined limits of the specific organ or bodily system that has broken down. Well I try to. This approach is not entirely consistent, because there are times when a rigid focus on the area of danger has to be maintained. Patients and families understand this, I am sure. If the patient is bleeding rapidly from an ulcer, or crashing with heart failure, I may fail to probe the subtleties of their understanding and defer the social enquiries. Later, when things have calmed down, there may be time to develop a more three-dimensional understanding of the whole person.

There are other reasons why medical interactions in hospital may not feel holistic. Hospitals work by bringing specialists to the bedside in order to answer specific questions. The frail and elderly patient who has fallen, and who has multiple symptoms related, say, to a failing heart, diseased lungs and arthritic knees, might be found to have a blocked kidney. The opinion of a urologist is sought. Only he or she can give an expert view on whether an intervention is required to unblock it. They arrive at the bedside. They are pleasant, they are caring, but they have one thing on their mind – to answer the question. They will take all the facts into account; the frailty, the risks of anaesthesia, the opinion of the patient, the opinion of the next of kin if they are present (and especially if there is dementia), but they will stay focused on the urological issue. And should the patient, at the end of the consultation, ask if anything can be done about her painful knees, the urologist may well say those fateful, unpopular words, “I’m sorry, that’s not my area.”

All specialists have said this. It is no good pretending to be able to give an answer to the question. One can express an interest, but it is little more than a politeness to do so. For the knees, if symptoms cannot be controlled with simple analgesics, you need a rheumatologist or an orthopaedic surgeon. Another specialist. Another visit. Another focused consultation. Another floor in ‘the department store’, as said in the Guardian article.

How to make these consultations happen without leaving the patient feeling like the chap in the picture above who has his organs picked out, examined and put back again? Perhaps it’s about presentation and coordination. What I would want is a lead physician who comes round and sums it all up for me. Who draws specialists in to the ward when required, who assesses the advice that is given and sifts it for common sense. And in addition, perhaps, an experienced nurse who can answer some of the questions I feel too inhibited or embarrassed to ask the doctor when they came round. Like, ‘What is a urologist anyway?’

That sounds like a fair model. It is a clear aspiration, as summarised in the Royal College of Physicians ‘Future Hospital’ commission report;

Patients will receive the best specialist care wherever they are in hospital. For patients with multiple and/or complex conditions, there will be input from a range of specialist teams according to clinical need, with a single named consultant responsible for coordinating care.

It seems we are not there yet. ‘Hospitalists’, general internists who take an overview and coordinate care, may be the answer. In the meantime, geriatricians will often assume the role, for it is patients under their care who typically have multiple problems.

So finally, in response to the Guardian article, while I recognise only too well the phenomenon of ‘that’s not my area’, and admit that much specialist work does occur ‘in siloes’, I do not accept that patients are routinely managed in a non-holistic way. It’s not what I see happening around me. Most hospital care, I would maintain, is delivered in context, and with an eye to the complete picture.