Group Title: On the Same Page, A Biweekly Series of Messages to the Faculty and Staff of the UF Health Science Center & Shands Hospital
Title: Health Professions, Autonomy and Quality Patient Care
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Title: Health Professions, Autonomy and Quality Patient Care
Physical Description: Video
Language: English
Creator: Guzick, David S.
Publisher: University of Florida
Place of Publication: Gainesville, FL
Publication Date: November 24, 2009
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Bibliographic ID: UF00099314
Volume ID: VID00007
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
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On the Same Page
November 24, 2009

Health Professions, Autonomy and Quality Patient Care

"The patient comes first."

This is a core value in the mission statements of academic health centers and hospitals
across the country. In thinking about "The patient comes first," consider what does not
come first: not the doctor, nurse or other health professional; not the computer screen,
documentation, coding or reimbursement rates; and certainly not academic or health-
care administrators!

"Because I want to help people."

This is the answer most applicants to medical schools give to the question: "Why do you
want to become a doctor?" Similar sentiments motivate applicants to other health
science colleges. Thus, virtually all of us enter the health professions with a strongly
held view in fact, the very reason for choosing the profession that the patient comes

Just as it is a short distance from "Because I want to help people" to "The patient comes
first," most health professionals easily translate "The patient comes first" to a desire to
provide the highest-quality health care possible. This translation is no longer that
simple, however.

When I was growing up, the physician who treated all members of my family was a
general practitioner (family medicine was not yet a specialty), Dr. Berman. Dr. Berman
had a small office with no receptionist. A nurse assisted him on some visits, but he took
our blood pressure, took our temperature and drew our blood himself. He saw to the
routine health-care needs of our family, but also set my arm in a cast when it was
fractured during a high school basketball game, and diagnosed early breast cancer in
my grandmother. (I vividly recall that he admitted her to the hospital, chose the surgeon
and made post-op rounds in the hospital and subsequent visits to our home). Dr.
Berman, to me, exemplified the "patient comes first" view of high-quality health care,
and profoundly influenced my choice of medicine as a career.

But 40 to 50 years later, the health professions are not the same. Explosions in
scientific knowledge and medical technology have occurred. People are living longer
and often develop more complex multisystem conditions. And health-care teams are
required to provide care that can best take advantage of new and constantly evolving
knowledge and technology. Patients appropriately expect evidence-based decision-
making, with documentation of what was done and why. The few scratches that Dr.
Berman made in his chart would not now pass muster, and in retrospect our family had
no way of knowing whether his decision to treat (or not treat) a condition was correct

based on the best scientific evidence. We trusted him, and I like to think that we did so
with good reason.

From a broader societal perspective, however, we cannot simply "trust" an entire
profession. As the years pass from completion of training, intuitive decisions made by
solo practitioners based on their "clinical experience" may or may not be informed by
current medical literature. In hospital practice, clinical outcomes are not optimized when
the varied intuitions and clinical experiences of a dozen specialists in a particular field
lead to a dozen different ways to approach the care of a given patient. Moreover, given
the high and rising costs of health care, there is increasing concern among employers,
employees, insurers and politicians about the potential for conflict in our fee-for-service
reimbursement system, as evidenced by data such as the strong correlation between
surgeons per capital and numbers of surgical cases per capital.

As an individual patient, I must trust my doctor and other health professionals to do the
right thing. After all, I am confident they believe my care comes first, are committed to
providing the highest-quality care and are governed by the ethical principles of their
profession. What does this imply, however, about their professional autonomy? Taking
medicine as an example, on an individual level we take comfort in the idea that our
doctor considers our particular medical situation in the context of his or her broad
clinical experience and is devising an individualized plan. From a societal perspective,
does that mean that physicians as a whole, based on their clinical experience, should
make individualized decisions about diagnostic tests and treatment plans regardless of
the medical literature or cost? Given a patient who presents with a specific history and
set of symptoms, is it sensible for each of the 10 specialists in a hospital, the 1,000 in a
state or the 50,000 in the nation to make autonomous and potentially highly variable -
decisions about such a patient's diagnostic evaluation and treatment?

In a Nov. 8 article by David Leonhardt in The New York Times Magazine, the appeal of
physician autonomy is nicely put: "Doctors have a degree of professional autonomy that
is probably unmatched outside academia. And that is how we like it. We think of our
doctors as wise men and women who can combine knowledge and instinct to land on
just the right treatment. Our fictional doctor heroes, from Marcus Welby to House, are
iconoclasts who don't go by the book. They rely on intuition, and intuition is indeed a
powerful thing, be it in medicine or other parts of life."

Indeed, across generations of medical students and house officers, continuing to the
present, variations among attending physicians in practice "styles" have been accepted
and even celebrated. While there are many ways of performing a certain surgical
procedure or taking care of a particular type of medical patient, there always seems to
be an institutional "way." Moreover, within each institution there is variation between
physicians. Being trained in reproductive surgery whether laparotomy, laparosopy or
microsurgery I learned that each of my teachers had their own suture technique, their
preferred draping method, their favorite instruments, their personalized set of steps in a
surgical sequence, their own variation on pre-op and post-op orders, etc. One had to
learn the "institutional way," and then the modifications of the various faculty surgeons.

All of these variations seemed to work reasonably well, although experientially (but
without data) some seemed to work better than others. I learned that what you did as a
surgeon was built on the basic "way" of doing surgery at your institution of training, and
then choose what you perceived to be the very best combination of surgical techniques
from your myriad of experiences under different faculty surgeons, making that unique
combination your own. And so was born the "Guzick" way of doing a tubal
reanastamosis, the "Guzick" method of ultrasound-guided egg retrieval, etc. I was not
alone. There was the "fill in the name" method for a given procedure, multiplied by the
number of graduates in a given field.

Alongside the science of medical and surgical practice, what I have described above is
the "art" of medicine. It will remain alive and well, as it should. In certain areas, however,
we must ask ourselves whether the level of autonomy described above is best for
optimal patient outcomes. I will give an example from my own experience that has
influenced my thinking more broadly on the issue of standardization vs. physician
autonomy in clinical programs. In 1986, a year after completing my fellowship, I moved
to Pittsburgh to become the division director of reproductive endocrinology in the
Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at UPMC. This sounds like quite a privilege,
and it was, but it was a division of one faculty member me. The previous director had
left after her new program of in vitro fertilization had produced very few pregnancies,
and the other faculty had scattered. I inherited a fellow and a superb ovarian
physiologist and embryologist (Tony Zeleznik, Ph.D.), and had some experience in
developing a moderately successful IVF program in Dallas, where I had done my
fellowship. The field was young and exciting. While this era preceded e-mail, text
messaging and Twitter, news of day-to-day developments on a variety of IVF fronts
(culture media and methods, embryo transfer catheters, medication regimens, etc.)
moved quickly across an international network of highly interested clinicians and

Consider that there are about 10 broad steps in the IVF procedure about five clinical
and five laboratory. For each of these steps, I had my "Dallas" way, Tony had his way
and there were credible reports in the literature on several other ways. One strategy that
we considered was to choose the "best" way for each step based on our experience and
the literature. If there were five possible alternatives for each of the 10 steps, there were
510 or almost 10 million possible ways to do the 10 steps of IVF. We could have picked
the combination that we thought would be best, but this would have been a totally
unique approach (the "Pittsburgh way") that would have never been previously tried in
its entirety. Moreover, if we individualized each case, using a substitute for certain steps
to tailor the regimen to a particular patient, we would essentially be trying out a new way
to do IVF for each patient. Such an approach was, indeed, the standard method for
starting an IVF program from scratch.

We decided that it wasn't right for our patients and referring physicians to test a new
protocol when some extant IVF programs had already demonstrated excellent success.
Therefore, we decided to copy exactly, step-by-step the entire IVF protocol of a
program producing world-class results. At the time, pregnancy rates in good programs
were in the 15 percent to 20 percent range, with the best programs approaching 25

percent. Due to our scientific relationship with the laboratory director of the
Hammersmith Hospital program in England, Steven Hillier, Ph.D., we were lucky
enough to convince Dr. Hillier to spend two weeks in Pittsburgh taking us through the
highly successful Hammersmith protocol.

When we opened our program, with a trial of 10 patients, we followed each step of the
Hammersmith IVF program to the letter: the drug regimen, the criteria for dosage
increases or decreases, the culture media (from England), the embryo transfer
catheters (from Germany), etc. Of our first 10 patients treated, four became pregnant.
The program was successfully launched. As new faculty and embryologists were
recruited, they performed the steps of the procedure exactly the same way, so that our
patients were treated in an identical manner regardless of who was "on call." When
protocol changes were introduced across time, we only permitted one variable to
change at a time, to ensure continuity and an informative way of evaluating the protocol

Should it be any different for the steps used in a hospital to start a central line, manage
patients on ventilators to avoid pneumonia or develop a protocol for blood transfusions?
Insisting on uniformity in each of these protocols, and many others, reduces physician
autonomy but also reduces line infections, ventilator-assisted pneumonia and
unnecessary transfusions that increase cost and sometimes produce adverse clinical

In a 2008 lecture to the Royal College of General Practitioners titled "The epitaph of
profession," Donald Berwick, M.D. (president and CEO of the Institute for Healthcare
Improvement) spoke eloquently about the professional life of his father, one of two
general practitioners in a rural Connecticut town. Dr. Berwick's father sounded much
like Dr. Berman: a supremely dedicated physician who selflessly practiced medicine
with great skill and autonomy, but who would no doubt be confused and concerned
about the direction of current medical practice and its implications for the profession.

Among many attributes of the new medical professional that would be foreign to Dr.
Berwick's father was what Dr. Berwick described as a "willingness to trade prerogative
for reliability." He goes on to say: "That's a subtle trade; surely the toughest one for my
father, to be handled with caution. Overshoot, and patients lose the benefit of the poetry
and art of individual expression from each caring doctor; but, undershoot, and patients
play dice gambling that this particular doctor knows that particular fact up-to-date,
accurate and precise. The aim is to promise every single patient the benefit of the best
possible science, and that inevitably places the autonomy of the individual physician in
some jeopardy. But, the new professional must make the choice: either treat the patient,
your patient, according to your own store of knowledge and facts, or give up total self-
reliance so as to promise the patient, your patient, treatment according to the entire
world's store of knowledge and facts. That promise, the promise of science, is a
different kind of promise from the one my father made. He promised to do his best; the
new professional promises to do the world's best."

But what about innovation? If we all are to follow a specific clinical protocol exactly, how
will the practice of medicine move forward? Ideally, the answer is for incremental
changes in clinical protocols to be studied experimentally, through randomized trials. If
step 4 of a 10-step protocol is being considered for a change, in an idealized world one
would randomize patients to a new 10-step protocol in which steps 1-3 and 5-10 would
be exactly the same for two groups, but one group would receive the "standard-of-care"
step 4, and the other would receive the "experimental" step 4. In reality, the cost in
dollars and time, as well as regulatory constraints and other factors, restrict the number
of randomized trials that can be conducted. These must be chosen carefully in a world
of scarce resources this represents the new world of comparative effectiveness
research. Nonetheless, we must embrace innovation, recognizing that it like
professional autonomy creates a tension against the goal of uniform high-quality

Where do our patients fit in the continuum of professional autonomy? No doubt, Dr.
Berman's patients came first, as did those of Dr. Berwick's father. We must recognize,
however, that the world has changed: for our patients to come first that is, for us to
provide our patients with the highest-quality care we must "trade," in Dr. Berwick's
words, some degree of "prerogative for reliability." And yet, at the same time, we should
follow our intrinsic scientific and clinical curiosity in testable ways that ensure continued
innovation and progress in medicine. Airline pilots follow standard operating procedure
in all circumstances when they are in the air, but new technologies and procedures are
continually tested in engineering laboratories and flight simulators; innovation continues.
This model should work in the health professions as well. Such is our challenge. While
we have been somewhat slow to adapt thus far, I am confident that, as health
professionals, we can resolve the tension between the science and art of clinical
practice, between prerogative and reliability, and between practice standards and

And indeed, the patient will come first.

Go Gators!

David S. Guzick, M.D., Ph.D.
Senior Vice President, Health Affairs
President, UF&Shands Health System

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