(See previous entry) The basic assumption in Steven Lewis' argument is that because Dr. Pringent works for a pharmaceutical company and may have an obligation to protecting shareholder interests, he will not be able to play an unbiased or in anyway valuable role on the Governing Council (GC).
By using such language as, "Seemingly countless systematic transgressions of pharma against scientific integrity and honest marketing", Lewis appears to imply that no representative of “evil-pharma” deserves a seat on the Council.
While making no apologies for pharma's sales practices, in light of the recent "climategate" scandal and the countless examples of systematic transgressions of researchers against scientific integrity, one could easily make a similar case for not having any scientists on the GC. I am not sure that this would be in line with what Lewis is trying to achieve.
Furthermore, as pointed out by David Allison, Professor of Biostatistics at University of Birmingham, Alabama, in a letter to Science [1] and in an article in the International Journal of Obesity [2], it appears that scientists are not in any way "immune" to taking a biased view of scientific data. Indeed, one may argue that industry driven bias may be far less perfidious (because the cards and intentions are on the table for everyone to read) than the many biases that are far more difficult to recognize, like the ideological (anti-industry) "white-hat” bias, self-aggrandization bias, or simply the all-too-prevalent “love-for-their-favorite-hypothesis” bias.
In fact, if we accept Lewis' argument against having representative of "evil-pharma" at the table, we may as well exclude all industries (certainly no food industry, no energy companies, no banking, no private health care, no information technology, no medical devices, in fact, no representation from any sector that is primarily driven by profit and could potentially benefit from strategic decisions made by the GC).
In contrast to what Lewis implies, I would readily assume that everyone on the GC likely represents a constituency or interest group and brings a bias to the table even if their views are only coloured by their personal perspectives, ideologies, views, or beliefs. Indeed, I have no doubt that were I to be offered a seat at the GC, in my role as Scientific Director of the Canadian Obesity Network, I would do my best to promote more investment in obesity research and vehemently oppose any attempt of other GC members to cut funding for obesity because of their personal beliefs that obesity is simply a "self-inflicted" matter of choice and does not deserve public funding to address (incidentally, it turns out that individual choice has surprisingly little to do with the obesity epidemic after all [3]).
Nor does the argument that a seat on the GC would provide an unfair advantage to Prigent, and thus Pfizer, over its competitors fly. The same could easily be said for any researcher who sits on the GC. Indeed, I have sat on numerous scientific review panels that have provided me with (unfair?) insight into the projects of my (scientific) "competitors" and I have often had the opportunity to steer committees towards funding projects that I thought and felt were more important and away from others that I believed (for whatever reasons) were perhaps less deserving of funding. The notion that scientists on committees are not in someway representing their own views, areas of interest, and ideologies is naive and unfounded. Nor do I expect representatives from research institutes, foundations, patient-advocacy groups or any other constituency to be fair and unbiased towards all possible decisions of the GC. In fact, it is this very diversity of opinions and interests that makes for a strong and effective Council.
I believe that having an industry representative at the table provides an important voice in the discussion, a chance to bring in arguments and views that may be important to consider and insights that may not be immediately obvious to GC members with little insight or experience in the private sector. The "holier-than-thou" argument presented by Lewis is simply discriminatory and unfair in singling out one member on arguments that may in principle apply to all members of the GC
Finally, simply in light of a democratic process one could even make the argument that the pharma industry, as a major tax payer and player in the health sector, very much has a right to sit at this table - after all a significant chunk of public funding that the GC will decide over comes from the taxes that this very industry pays into the government coffers - no taxation without representation?
Rather than demonizing or declaring outrage about the appointment of representatives of certain constituencies to the GC, the simplest way to deal with any actual or perceived conflicts of interest is to have these openly declared (my guess is that it is likely far easier for Pringent to identify and declare his obvious areas of conflict than for most other members on the Council, who I am sure all have interests and biases of their own). It is easy enough (and hopefully common practice during GC sessions) to expect Pringent (and others) to excuse themselves from voting or even from being in the room when matters are discussed where such a conflict occurs.
Excluding anyone with a putative personal, professional, ideological or political conflict of interest from the GC will most likely result in not having a council at all.
Arya M. Sharma, MD/PhD, FRCPC
Professor and Chair of Obesity Research and Management
University of Alberta
1. Allison DB. The antidote to bias in research. Science. 2009;326:522-3
2. Cope MB, Allison DB. White hat bias: examples of its presence in obesity research and a call for renewed commitment to faithfulness in research reporting. Int J Obes. 2009. [Epub ahead of print]
3. http://www.drsharma.ca/obesity-lifestyle-choice-or-lifestyle-chance.html
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Where There’s Smoke, There’s Pfizer: Sparks Fly Over Recent CIHR Appointment
Where There’s Smoke, There’s Pfizer: Sparks Fly Over Recent CIHR Appointment
The Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR) Governing Council (GC) has a new member: Dr. Bernard Prigent, the Vice-President of Medical Affairs for Pfizer Canada.
Steven Lewis, former (and founding) member of the Governing Council is outraged.
In an essay to be published on Tuesday by Longwoods Publishing (and pre-released here) he writes:
· Seemingly countless systematic transgressions of pharma against scientific integrity and honest marketing have been documented in grisly detail.
· How does a Pfizer VP remain agnostic about whether an institute as the Institute for Health Services and Policy Research should be renewed if it supports research that shows a Pfizer drug is dangerous or identifies the massive public subsidies that flow to drug companies?
· Dr. Prigent’s company recently paid a whopping $2.3 billion for fraudulently marketing Bextra, a painkiller withdrawn from the market in 2005, and 3 other drugs. Dr. Prigent’s signature adorns the confessional letter that alerted Canadian practitioners to the company’s malfeasance.
· There are innumerable alternatives to get commercialization advice -- all of them cleaner and more transparent.
· As a member of GC, Dr. Prigent, will from time to time have access to information that his competitors do not, and he can exert a steering effect where they cannot.
“Given these facts,” notes Mr. Lewis, “one is hard pressed to view the appointment as anything other than a deliberate provocation.”
According to Mr. Lewis, at least 3300 people have signed a petition protesting the appointment, many of them prominent researchers, ethicists, and public policy experts. He warns that the government and the CIHR want this to go away; their biggest allies are silence and resignation. He calls for more people to sign the petition, write their MPs and write op-eds for local newspapers.
The complete essay is posted here:
For more information contact:
(Author) Steven Lewis at Steven.Lewis@shaw.ca
(Editorial Director) Dianne Foster Kent at dkent@longwoods.com or (business hours 416 864 9667)
Steven Lewis is a health policy and research consultant based in Saskatoon, and Adjunct Professor of Health Policy at the University of Calgary and Simon Fraser University (where he was Visiting Scholar in 2007). Previously he headed a health research granting agency and spent 7 years as CEO of the Health Services Utilization and Research Commission in Saskatchewan. He has served on various boards and committees, including the Governing Council of the Canadian Institutes of Health Research, the Saskatchewan Health Quality Council, the Health Council of Canada, and the editorial boards of several journals including Healthcare Papers and Open Medicine. His published work covers topics such as reforming and strengthening Medicare, improving health care quality, primary health care, regionalization, and the management of wait times.
Longwoods Publishing Corporation (Longwoods) publishes academic and professional information and journals covering health and health care ideas, policies and practices and works in collaboration with governments, institutes, health care organizations, academe, and the the private sector including the Institute for Health Services and Policy Research and pharmaceutical companies.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Degrees of Separation: Do Higher Credentials Make Health Care Better?
| Lewis, Steven |
| Somewhere around 2050, the last registered nurse without a university degree will ride off into the sunset. Manitoba had gamely held out as the last province to retain the diploma option, but it, too has thrown in the towel. Raising entry-to-practice credentials (ETPC) in health disciplines is the new pandemic. Among recent developments: |
Sounds sensible, right? Let's examine what we've learned about this phenomenon over the years[i]. First, no one can pin down where raising the ETPC starts. Many have looked, and more knowledgeable and savvy people than I cannot trace a change back to its origins. The best guess is that the movements begin in faculty lounges or around the board tables of professional associations. While we don't know how the credential upgrade begins, we know how it doesn't. Employers never demand increased ETPC; on occasion they explicitly oppose it. No one has ever produced evidence that those practicing with the about-to-be-abandoned credential were harming the public. Governments never instigate the changes. Second, increasing the credential does not necessarily mean more training. Take the therapies. Until recently, you got to be a physiotherapist by taking a 4-year university degree in, sensibly, physiotherapy. Now you take a 2-year master's program following an undergraduate degree in anything. Same with OT - my brilliant and talented niece got her MSc on top of her architecture degree, consisting of about a year in the classroom and a year of practical experience. We are to take it on faith that we get a more capable entry-level therapist in half the time it used to take, armed with a degree that sounds more advanced. Nursing has been even more artful. First, it bid adieu to an intensive, roughly 23-month diploma program in favour of the 4-year, but less jam-packed baccalaureate program. The degree students actually spend less time in practice settings during their training. The transition to a degree-only program predictably reduced the numbers of graduates. Employers and governments grew alarmed at forecasts of a 100,000+ shortage of RNs on the horizon. No worries, responded the universities. We've got a solution. Presto - there are now 11 programs across the country that will give you a nursing degree on top of, say, a fine arts degree in 2 years! Follow the bouncing ball: two years wasn't sufficient to turn out a competent entry-level nurse fifteen years ago, but now it is again. Excellent. (Advice to students: demand a master's degree for your troubles, just like the physios and OTs. Of course, this would confuse regulators, irk nurses with 4-year baccalaureate degrees, and cause riots among nurses with real master's degrees. The physios and OTs had the good sense to eliminate the undergraduate option altogether.) Third, at least in some jurisdictions, universities, wielding their academic freedom, have acted with remarkable vigour to satisfy professions' aspirations for increased ETPC. The University of Saskatchewan - my alma mater and annual recipient of my donations, in case this essay prompts it to withdraw my degrees - decided on its own not to enrol a new class of physiotherapy students a couple of years ago, as part of its campaign to adopt the MSc as the ETPC. It somehow forgot to notify the government or obtain its permission, although it invoked the Cool Hand Luke defence. One might think the Premier or Minister of Advanced Education might have called up the President to inform him that this ringing exercise of institutional autonomy suddenly made a few million dollars vanish from the university's budget. Nah; bygones. Fourth, the ETPC movement has created subtle changes in the meaning of advanced degrees. I believe the technical term is "phoney baloney." These so-called professional master's degrees and doctorates require none of the rigour, research, or external scrutiny that used to be hallmarks of advanced education. While purveyors of these degrees acknowledge that they are different in important respects, they know full well that the public makes no such distinctions. The biggest assault on standards is where the advanced degree sits on top of an undergraduate degree in a different discipline. The master's-level PT and OT training has to be basic because no one has any grounding in the subject matter prior to entry into "graduate" studies. Fifth, no one seems to know or care about the practical consequences of raising ETPC. People will disagree about the wisdom of the nursing conversion, but shouldn't we at least be curious about the consequences? (I'm not picking on nursing here; it's just that nurses outnumber the other professions combined, so the implications are huge.) For example:
But, one might counter, even if the ETPC changes were in a sense unnecessary, there are worse sins than overeducating the health care workforce. Not so fast. One of the reasons professions raise ETPC is to increase their status and credibility in the academy. They do this in part by developing complex theory and creating specialized identities. Merging these identities into unified interprofessional teams is a challenge under any circumstances; even stronger and more fragmented identities forged in longer education programs will hardly make this easier. Furthermore, graduates with higher credentials will expect to work at a higher level and many will be disappointed and bored by the everyday but important work of patient care. All that said, there is no definitive proof that increasing ETPC has been a colossal mistake. I'm saying merely that it might have been, but we know embarrassingly little about the consequences. And if we're going to require more education for health care newbies, we need to debate the form that education should take. Too many practitioners know nothing about the social determinants of health, health systems, policy, economics, and the arts of citizenship. Maybe they need to broaden their educational horizons rather than deepen their discipline-specific identities. That nurse with a BFA and a two-year nursing degree may indeed turn out to be admirably educated for the challenges of working in a variety of contexts. But let's not confuse that prospect with the ETPC essential to making health care better. ------------------------------------------- [i]Before I get into the analysis, full disclosure: as a public representative on the Canadian Nurses Association Board of Directors in the early 1990s, I cast the lone vote against what was then known as the BN 2000 resolution. For the past 6 years I have sat on the federal-provincial-territorial Coordinating Committee on Entry to Practice Credentials (we have a gift for catchy titles). So I have been around this topic for some time, and while it cannot compete with my obsession with baseball statistics, it ranks right up there among my day job preoccupations. |
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
What Elinor Ostrom can Teach Healthcare
| by Neil Seeman |
| Remember the "tragedy of the commons"? I learned the concept in first-year economics class at Queen's University - not in real economics class, but in the dorm room. The cleaning staff fluffed the pillows and vacuumed the carpets each Monday. Students would raze the place over the ensuing days. By Thursday the place was a pigpen. |
| We undergraduates lived the tragedy of the commons. Acting independently in our own self-interest, we destroyed the shared but limited resources of the common area: the pull-out sofa bed for out-of-town guests; the dart board; the ping pong paddles. In the hierarchy of student needs, these things ranked very highly; yet we ruined them. Why so? More typically referenced examples of the tragedy of the commons tend to involve natural resources, like fish. If everyone in a village who fishes has equal rights to eat out of the same lake, human behavior (even if everyone in the village is kind-hearted) will lead inevitably to a disappearance of stocks. How do we regulate this? Thanks to the influential article by the late biologist Garrett Hardin in Science in 1968, the paradox of the "tragedy of the commons" - Hardin used the example of herders sharing a common plot of land and then eroding its value due to individual self-interest - has flummoxed economists for the last 50 years. The tragedy-of-the-commons problem is highly relevant to not-for-profit hospitals and public sector healthcare: how do we align collective self-interest to support public goods? Elinor Ostrom, 76, one of this year's Nobel Laureates in Economic Science (shared with Oliver E. Williamson), devoted her career to cracking this riddle. A researcher at the University of Indiana and Arizona State University, Ms. Ostrom's work as a "collective action scientist" well preceded what we now call "good governance". Just as intriguing as her research is the way she went about attacking the problems she sought to solve. Practical EconomicsEconomist David Henderson has described Ms. Ostrom's Nobel as a victory for "practical economics" as opposed to abstract formulas. Public reaction to her award, as measured by my quick sentiment analysis on Twitter, the social network, has been highly positive (try this: log on to Twitter, and search for "Congrats" and "Ostrom"). (Compare this to negative sentiment, and shock, registered in response to President Obama's Peace Prize win.)Lost in the media parade over Ms. Ostrom on account of her being the first woman to win the economics Nobel has been her work itself. ("The important thing about Lin Ostrom," 2002 Nobel laureate Vernon Smith said, "is not that she is the first woman to win the prize but that she richly deserved it.") Ms. Ostrom challenged the tragedy of the commons as an absolute rule, and, upon reviewing dozens of governance case studies, discovered cases of communal ownership in poor regions that worked smoothly - i.e., where people's interests in the "commons" were aligned, and as a result the common resources did not disintegrate. Among the case studies she uncovered that worked were those that had a manner of property rights system in place, despite the lack of private ownership in the resource itself. This led her to propose a series of rules for governing commonly pooled resources. These included the idea that rules should clearly define: who gets what; good conflict resolution methods; that people's obligations to keep the resource in good condition be proportional to the benefits they reap from the resource; that monitoring and punishing be done by the users or someone accountable to the users; and that users should be allowed to participate in setting and modifying those rules. The Power of the Case StudyOne lesson to be had from Ms. Ostrom's work is the power of case studies. Her practical case-study approach and field work led her to attack the paradox of the tragedy of the commons methodically, and in ways that economic theory never could.In real life, Ms. Ostrom found, the tragedy of the commons theory did not unfold the same way all the time. She examined user-managed fish stocks, pastures, woods, lakes, and groundwater basins. Some common resources were overused and depleted, but some were managed well. She set forth her findings in her 1990 book, "Governing the Commons." What is the secret to successful management of the commons? "One of the most important factors is whether local people monitor each other," Ms. Ostrom said in a news conference after her award was announced. "Not officials, locals. I'm not denigrating that officials can do something very positive. But what we have ignored is what citizens can do, and the importance of real involvement of the people involved…". This, to me, sounds like a good argument for involving every responsible citizen who consumes publicly funded health care to formulate its ethics and rules. In a word: engagement. About the Author Neil Seeman is a writer, and Director and Primary Investigator of the Health Strategy Innovation Cell at Massey College at the University of Toronto. |
Monday, August 10, 2009
The End of Healthcare Consultese?
By Neil Seeman
A new motion passed unanimously by the British Medical Association urges the NHS to scrap management jargon. For example, physicians have been asked to use “patient” and ditch “client” and “service user.”
People who thirst for plain English in healthcare and in all service sectors – I count myself among them – have been losing this battle. In a journal article in 1994, Richard Peck described the then-“adjectival All-Star” of healthcare: “seamless.” He wrote: “Virtually no one attending a healthcare conference in the ‘90s will avoid hearing the word “seamless” at least a few times. It is the Holy Grail of would-be managers of the healthcare system, an ideal: patients moving effortlessly from one level of care to another, as necessary and without a hitch – without doubt, without misadventure …”.
Fifteen years later, “seamless” still reigns. According to the British Medical Association, management-speak dehumanizes health professions: “performer” (aka “doctor”); “efficiency savings and disinvestments” (aka “budget cuts”); and “service user” instead of “patient.” The UK-based Plain English Campaign promotes clear language in all public communications, noting that language confusion among doctors and patients can be a life-or-death issue.
The Plain English Campaign states: “Since 1979, we have been campaigning against gobbledygook, jargon and misleading public information. We have helped many government departments and other official organizations with their documents, reports and publications. We believe that everyone should have access to clear and concise information in plain English.”
Some NHS hospitals and trusts have received the Plain English Campaign’s annual Crystal Mark for clarity, while other institutions have been shamed with its opposite, the “Golden Bull” award. The Campaign’s medical writing course teaches “writing short sentences; using bullet points; being ‘active’ not ‘passive’; and using verbs to emphasize action.” Sessions feature lessons on how to craft hospital appointment letters and patient information leaflets.
What People Want
There are legitimate arguments against so-called “plain language”: sometimes what is straightforward to one is offensive to another (e.g., the word “blind”); hence words such as “non-sighted” emerge. Language, especially English, is like an arctic floe – slow and serene, and then disruptive. This year Miriam-Webster added many jargon-laden words that address concerns about the environment (carbon footprint), medicine (cardioprotective), pop culture (flash mob), and, in particular, online activities (sock puppet, vlog, webisode).
Given the natural drift of language, especially in healthcare, can we learn from patients to determine which words they prefer? I think so.
We can learn from online analytics – looking at the actual language people use every day – found in millions of postings scattered on the World Wide Web. When talking about their real healthcare experiences, people describe themselves as “patients” about five times more frequently than as “consumers”; and people call themselves “consumers” about seven times as much as they call themselves “clients”.
Most of the objections to the word “patient” seem to come from academics who decry the supposed paternalism associated with the word; or from those who prefer “consumer” on principle – they don’t like the “medical model” of health. My interpretation: Regular people overwhelmingly prefer “patient”.
This is just one example, and not scientific. (For what it’s worth, this approach seems to confirm small studies. In one such study, 75% of 133 people in community care preferred to be called “patient” by their GP – vs. “client” or “service user”. In another study, the author surveyed 101 people attending a back-pain clinic and found that 74 preferred “patient.”)
Words such as “client” and “consumer” and “service user” have been thrown about in conferences and vision statements for many years, but they don’t stick with the public. When a word doesn’t stick, we should shelve it.
It would be helpful if dictionaries would expunge stale meanings with the same vigour with which they embrace new ones year after year. Then, perhaps, the experience of patients everywhere might be a bit more seamless.
About the Author
Neil Seeman is a writer and Director and Primary Investigator of the Health Strategy Innovation Cell at Massey College at the University of Toronto.
A new motion passed unanimously by the British Medical Association urges the NHS to scrap management jargon. For example, physicians have been asked to use “patient” and ditch “client” and “service user.”
People who thirst for plain English in healthcare and in all service sectors – I count myself among them – have been losing this battle. In a journal article in 1994, Richard Peck described the then-“adjectival All-Star” of healthcare: “seamless.” He wrote: “Virtually no one attending a healthcare conference in the ‘90s will avoid hearing the word “seamless” at least a few times. It is the Holy Grail of would-be managers of the healthcare system, an ideal: patients moving effortlessly from one level of care to another, as necessary and without a hitch – without doubt, without misadventure …”.
Fifteen years later, “seamless” still reigns. According to the British Medical Association, management-speak dehumanizes health professions: “performer” (aka “doctor”); “efficiency savings and disinvestments” (aka “budget cuts”); and “service user” instead of “patient.” The UK-based Plain English Campaign promotes clear language in all public communications, noting that language confusion among doctors and patients can be a life-or-death issue.
The Plain English Campaign states: “Since 1979, we have been campaigning against gobbledygook, jargon and misleading public information. We have helped many government departments and other official organizations with their documents, reports and publications. We believe that everyone should have access to clear and concise information in plain English.”
Some NHS hospitals and trusts have received the Plain English Campaign’s annual Crystal Mark for clarity, while other institutions have been shamed with its opposite, the “Golden Bull” award. The Campaign’s medical writing course teaches “writing short sentences; using bullet points; being ‘active’ not ‘passive’; and using verbs to emphasize action.” Sessions feature lessons on how to craft hospital appointment letters and patient information leaflets.
What People Want
There are legitimate arguments against so-called “plain language”: sometimes what is straightforward to one is offensive to another (e.g., the word “blind”); hence words such as “non-sighted” emerge. Language, especially English, is like an arctic floe – slow and serene, and then disruptive. This year Miriam-Webster added many jargon-laden words that address concerns about the environment (carbon footprint), medicine (cardioprotective), pop culture (flash mob), and, in particular, online activities (sock puppet, vlog, webisode).
Given the natural drift of language, especially in healthcare, can we learn from patients to determine which words they prefer? I think so.
We can learn from online analytics – looking at the actual language people use every day – found in millions of postings scattered on the World Wide Web. When talking about their real healthcare experiences, people describe themselves as “patients” about five times more frequently than as “consumers”; and people call themselves “consumers” about seven times as much as they call themselves “clients”.
Most of the objections to the word “patient” seem to come from academics who decry the supposed paternalism associated with the word; or from those who prefer “consumer” on principle – they don’t like the “medical model” of health. My interpretation: Regular people overwhelmingly prefer “patient”.
This is just one example, and not scientific. (For what it’s worth, this approach seems to confirm small studies. In one such study, 75% of 133 people in community care preferred to be called “patient” by their GP – vs. “client” or “service user”. In another study, the author surveyed 101 people attending a back-pain clinic and found that 74 preferred “patient.”)
Words such as “client” and “consumer” and “service user” have been thrown about in conferences and vision statements for many years, but they don’t stick with the public. When a word doesn’t stick, we should shelve it.
It would be helpful if dictionaries would expunge stale meanings with the same vigour with which they embrace new ones year after year. Then, perhaps, the experience of patients everywhere might be a bit more seamless.
About the Author
Neil Seeman is a writer and Director and Primary Investigator of the Health Strategy Innovation Cell at Massey College at the University of Toronto.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Bird Flu, Mad Cow Disease, and other Biological Plagues of the 21st Century
Andrew Nikiforuk
On October 17, 2004, a Thai smuggler wrapped the two small crested eagles from Tibet in cotton cloths. Then he placed each bird into a 60-centimetre (24-inch) wicker tube, making sure the raptors had room to breathe. With the tubes hidden in his hand luggage, the avian transport boarded Eva Airways Flight BR0061 from Bangkok to Vienna, along with 128 other jet-setters.
The smuggler was on a business trip. A Belgium falconer had ordered the birds for $17,000 and the avian entrepreneur had promised to make the delivery in Antwerp. But a random drug check at Zaventern airport in Brussels uncovered the illicit cargo. Given that bird flu had already killed 32 peasants and chicken handlers that year as well as millions of chickens and 83 tigers at Thai zoos, customs officials quarantined the birds and tested them. When both eagles proved positive for H5N1, authorities slaughtered 700 parrots and canaries in quarantine facility. Authorities then tracked down the smuggler (importing diseased species is not a crime) and put him in an isolation ward at the Antwerp University hospital for four days. The veterinarian who tested and killed the infected eagles developed conjunctivitis, a common flu symptom, just two days later. Doctors put his entire family on anti-viral drugs. "We were very, very lucky," admitted Renee Snacken at Belgium's Scientific Institute of Public Health in Brussels. "It could have been a bomb for Europe."
See: More.
On October 17, 2004, a Thai smuggler wrapped the two small crested eagles from Tibet in cotton cloths. Then he placed each bird into a 60-centimetre (24-inch) wicker tube, making sure the raptors had room to breathe. With the tubes hidden in his hand luggage, the avian transport boarded Eva Airways Flight BR0061 from Bangkok to Vienna, along with 128 other jet-setters.
The smuggler was on a business trip. A Belgium falconer had ordered the birds for $17,000 and the avian entrepreneur had promised to make the delivery in Antwerp. But a random drug check at Zaventern airport in Brussels uncovered the illicit cargo. Given that bird flu had already killed 32 peasants and chicken handlers that year as well as millions of chickens and 83 tigers at Thai zoos, customs officials quarantined the birds and tested them. When both eagles proved positive for H5N1, authorities slaughtered 700 parrots and canaries in quarantine facility. Authorities then tracked down the smuggler (importing diseased species is not a crime) and put him in an isolation ward at the Antwerp University hospital for four days. The veterinarian who tested and killed the infected eagles developed conjunctivitis, a common flu symptom, just two days later. Doctors put his entire family on anti-viral drugs. "We were very, very lucky," admitted Renee Snacken at Belgium's Scientific Institute of Public Health in Brussels. "It could have been a bomb for Europe."
See: More.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Unintentional Observations about Poker and Pandemic Planning
Two weeks ago. Visit my own clinic and am stopped at the front door, separated from staff by a two metre glass wall. Questions. "Do I have a fever, cough or sore throat?" Signage reinforces the interrogator. "No". A sanitizer dispenser is right in front of me. "Please clean your hands and go on in." I am monitored as I follow her instructions.
One week ago. Visit the lab at my own clinic. Its a repeat performance. Stopped at the front door I was separated from staff by a two metre glass wall. Questions. "Do I have a fever, cough or sore throat?" Signage reinforces the interrogator. "No". A sanitizer dispenser is right in front of me. "Please clean your hands and go on in." I am monitored as I follow her instructions. Consistent. I appreciate the diligence.
Yesterday. Accompany an adult to a three-physician practice. No signage, no sanitizer, no questions. Doctor shakes my hands and we chat. He joins the patient in his office. I wonder about the patient who just came out of his office.
Yesterday. Accompany the same adult to a lab - one of many outlets of a very large corporation. Lots of pandemic related signs -- I count at least three on the counter alone -- saying: Stop - Clean Your Hands. One sign asks about symptoms: If you have a cough or shortness of breath (especially if new) - please report and wear a mask. At least 22 other people walk in while I wait. Just two people use the obvious bottle of sanitizer. The crowd includes a young father with a three-day-old child. The visit, the father tells me later, is for the child. No preferential treatment provided. No one from staff asks any one any questions about their general health. Or their throats or coughs. No one is monitored to see if they sanitize their hands. One lab technician is wearing a plastic face shield. Two others are not. Everyone who enters stands in front of the signs to announce their arrival and is told to take a "number" -- a piece of plastic about the size of a Bicycle Poker Card. Everyone does. The baby is in arms as dad holds the card. [Gee they are beautiful at that age and dad is doing a pretty good job despite her fussiness.]
One man (about 75 years old) sits and waits, keeps coughing one of those deep gurgling coughs. He tries to stifle them and turns his face to the right. Now his seat mate is in the direct line of fire. A few times he puts his right hand to his mouth as he coughs. In this same hand he is holding his "poker card." His plastic poker card. When his number comes up he walks to the counter and returns it to the card dispenser - ready for the next patient. Glad he didn't leave before the baby arrived.
Beside me is a play area for children. It's mostly full of red, yellow and green blocks but no children. Good thing. I can imagine where each one of those blocks would be if there were children in there. I silently dub this the little spittle flu box.
The patient with me is done. We leave and decide to walk down the stairs. The elevator is half full. Full enough. No need to play the odds.
Share your own stories here.
One week ago. Visit the lab at my own clinic. Its a repeat performance. Stopped at the front door I was separated from staff by a two metre glass wall. Questions. "Do I have a fever, cough or sore throat?" Signage reinforces the interrogator. "No". A sanitizer dispenser is right in front of me. "Please clean your hands and go on in." I am monitored as I follow her instructions. Consistent. I appreciate the diligence.
Yesterday. Accompany an adult to a three-physician practice. No signage, no sanitizer, no questions. Doctor shakes my hands and we chat. He joins the patient in his office. I wonder about the patient who just came out of his office.
Yesterday. Accompany the same adult to a lab - one of many outlets of a very large corporation. Lots of pandemic related signs -- I count at least three on the counter alone -- saying: Stop - Clean Your Hands. One sign asks about symptoms: If you have a cough or shortness of breath (especially if new) - please report and wear a mask. At least 22 other people walk in while I wait. Just two people use the obvious bottle of sanitizer. The crowd includes a young father with a three-day-old child. The visit, the father tells me later, is for the child. No preferential treatment provided. No one from staff asks any one any questions about their general health. Or their throats or coughs. No one is monitored to see if they sanitize their hands. One lab technician is wearing a plastic face shield. Two others are not. Everyone who enters stands in front of the signs to announce their arrival and is told to take a "number" -- a piece of plastic about the size of a Bicycle Poker Card. Everyone does. The baby is in arms as dad holds the card. [Gee they are beautiful at that age and dad is doing a pretty good job despite her fussiness.]
One man (about 75 years old) sits and waits, keeps coughing one of those deep gurgling coughs. He tries to stifle them and turns his face to the right. Now his seat mate is in the direct line of fire. A few times he puts his right hand to his mouth as he coughs. In this same hand he is holding his "poker card." His plastic poker card. When his number comes up he walks to the counter and returns it to the card dispenser - ready for the next patient. Glad he didn't leave before the baby arrived.
Beside me is a play area for children. It's mostly full of red, yellow and green blocks but no children. Good thing. I can imagine where each one of those blocks would be if there were children in there. I silently dub this the little spittle flu box.
The patient with me is done. We leave and decide to walk down the stairs. The elevator is half full. Full enough. No need to play the odds.
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