TDP

Tommy hasn’t been part of my life for over thirty years, except for the memories.  Soon, that’ll be all I have.

Tommy is a year and a half older than me, but was always light years ahead intellectually and academically.  He was the brightest medical student my later mentor Bill Arnold had seen at University of Illinois, and Bill recommended Tommy to his own mentor, the then young chief of medicine at U of M Bill Kelley.  After a slightly twisted training with a medicine residency and chief residency interposed with a rheumatology fellowship including a stint in Kelley’s lab, he signed on as faculty to the Division headed by the man who hired me, Giles Bole.  When I first met Tommy, he looked up at me and asked the usual question “did you play basketball?”.  I gave him a retort he didn’t expect “no, were you a jockey?”.  Little Tommy and big Bob became fast friends after that.  He attended my second rotation on the Arthritis service, where we set the census record.  I enjoyed our constant banter, and tried tripping him up with obscure references.  He later said rounding with me was like “rounding in a minefield”.  But nobody got the better of Tommy for long.  Fellows trembled under his Jesuit logic with some occasional Greek thrown in for good measure.  But we learned.  Oh did we.  Sometime after he left, the Division named the award that goes to the fellow with the best teaching skills the “Thomas D. Palella Award”, not that any winner has come close.

Shortly after I got offered a job, my beloved chief Giles got kicked upstairs to become an associate Dean.  Of course, once you have a job, it’s time to buy a house and get married, which I did.  Tommy served as my best man. 

Irving Fox was interim chief for a couple years before Kelley decided Tommy, at the ripe age of 36, was ready for the task.  As Kelley had taken on the whole department of medicine at that age, he didn’t think age was all that important, if you had the talent, which Tommy certainly did.  Tommy was a terrific chief.  Fellows loved him.  Faculty uniformly respected his fair, firm manner.  But the job wore on him and less than four years after he took it, he announced he was leaving to go into private practice in suburban Chicago and by 1990 he was gone.  I may have seen him once since.  In 2000, I bought a card and rustled up signatures of those left behind who still knew him.  The card was intentionally sick: a nice picture of Burton Tower inside which I inscribed “10 years since you jumped, and some of us still miss you”, recollecting the horrible moment on when Regent Sarah Goddard Power jumped to her death 3/26/87, witnessed by students milling to get to their 10 o’clock classes.  I never got a response from Tommy, but I’m sure he got the joke.

The little runt had a way with women.  When I arrived, he’d been squiring the tall, blonde, sassy head nurse on the Arthritis ward, whom married man Giles took a shine to, and married her out from under Tommy, who didn’t take long to find a replacement, beautiful dark-haired Julie, whom he married shortly after I met Kathy, showing me the way.

Let me allow the e-mail I posted from the plane Sunday to fellows I remembered from the 80s tell the rest of the story:


Hello old friends

I have some sad news to pass along, which some of you may know already.  I was trying to connect with Tommy Palella to send him a PDF of an article on Arthroscopy I’d just gotten into Rheumatology (Oxford).  He’d been with me in the trenches at the beginning and I thought he’d be curious as to how things turned out.  When I struck out at all my usual ways of finding an e-mail, I contacted Bill Arnold, my scopy mentor, who had known Tommy as a medical student at U of I.  I wasn’t prepared for Bill’s reply.  I’ll say to you what he wrote to me “sit down before you read this”.


Bob

> Tom is dying of lung cancer metastatic to his brain.
> He retired a year ago. In March or so he became confused and a CTs revealed tntc Mets in his brain with a mass in his chest. He is undergoing chemo.
> His former partner and one of my fellows called me with the news in May.  His wife asked that no one visit. I’ve heard nothing more in the last 6 wks.
> Tom essentially went off the grid after leaving AA. I think I saw him once in the last 25 years. He was the brightest student I ever had.
> I don’t think he wants to be contacted by any of us.


Tommy was our chronological peer but light years ahead of us academically.  I’m sure none of us can forget being victims of his Jesuit logic with a little Greek thrown in for good measure.  Pause, remember, reflect.  At our time in life, such things happen.  May you all push on many years before others are spreading such emails about you.

Bob Ike

And this is an addition after the e-mail:

Yes, Tommy liked his smokes.  I always saw it as a sort of self-medication, helping to comport his supremely superior brain to the wants and needs of us under him.  But to have that great brain slowly taken away by the cancer is too sad to comprehend, and something I’ve seen personally with my dad and with Joe, Kathy’s brother Bob’s best friend.  I suppose my peers should expect this sort of thing starting to happen at our age.  As we lose this great, smart, special man, we should feel fortunate we ever got to know him at all, and treasure the memories.

masks, droplets, aerosols and all that

You’ve got to pay attention to a professor named Siddhartha. But this is Verma not Gautama

and he’s currently studying fluid dynamics at Florida Atlantic University.

In this video, he explains and demonstrates clearly what all this COVID particle transmission and control is all about. Notice that masks are all about protecting others from you, not you from others. So those nervous Nellies walking up my way as I walk down Broadway hill and stop to put on their masks are wasting their time.

It’s not long, and the images of particles being projected are pretty amazing.

LJ here we come!

I’ve kept a journal devoted to San Diego (La Jolla, mostly) for over 3 ½ years.  I started it when my wife and I landed there in January ’17 for my 3 month sabbatical at UCSD.  We decided it would be fun to record our impressions of the place, especially the restaurants and bars.  We intended it to serve as a guide if we ever got back there, which happened in January of this year.  The trip was good for several blog posts https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/theviewfromharbal.com/98, https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/theviewfromharbal.com/104, https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/theviewfromharbal.com/108.

Kathy and I love it out there, and would move in a second if we could just come up with the $20mill for the beach house of the sort Kathy would want to live in.  My sabbatical time didn’t lead to a job offer, but doctors are among the low-paid hired help just scraping by in LJ.

Events last week prompted a new entry in my journal.  I thought it might be worth posting:

We’re going back!  We’ve been trying and trying.  Our nephew Orion’s graduation from Summit Denali School in Sunnyvale California, where his parents sent him after 6-8 years of home-schooling, was justifying a big California trip for early June – including a jaunt south to LJ -but COVID.  Then I arranged a California trip for 2021 Spring Break (early March).  Then Dr. Schlissel cancels Spring Break because COVID.  New plans are for early January, before Winter term starts.  But that’s a long way away. 

We were supposed to go to the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs for a Bendcare boondoggle (https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/theviewfromharbal.com/617), including Kathy’s July 16 birthday.  I know the Broadmoor a little as my late Aunt Ann, Austrian warbride of my late Uncle Bob, used to do the hair of the rich and pampered there for many years.  Pretty luxe place https://www.broadmoor.com/.  We booked a couple days there before the meeting to make for a nice long Colorado Springs experience.  Then less than 12 hours before we were to leave the house for the airport, I get a call from Bendcare’s chief cat-herder Mike Prondecki that they had discovered I was no longer practicing (just like in January), so I had to stay home so that those who were could come hear the important message.

Stewing over that for a couple of couple of weeks, we decided to go anyway on our own dime, add in some time in Salida to see June Rogers, Sam’s widow (https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/theviewfromharbal.com/25, https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/theviewfromharbal.com/56).  Kathy will be done with classes 8/21.  We’ll fly to COS 8/23, check into the Palace Hotel https://www.salidapalacehotel.com/ and spend a lot of time with June in nearby little Nathrop.  Salida is a wonderful little town, situated on the Arkansas River, on which is situated a beautiful little park, caring naught if you brought over something from the wine shop across the street to help you pass the time as you sat on one of their benches to watch the river flow by.  There’s a mountain right across the river that crazy mountain bikers like to traverse.  It bears many names (Wikipedia calls it “Methodist mountain” which is not what the guy at the Salida desk told me).  It also bears a big white “S”, which I had to tell my brother John doesn’t mean that MSU has claimed the structure, although sports teams for the local high school are the “Spartans”

After 2 days here, we’ll drive back to COS, dump the car, and take the shuttle to the Broadmoor, where we’ll spent one night in the resort, Kathy racking up spa charges.  Then we move up 8,000 feet to “Cloud Camp” for 2 days, a more rustic form of luxe, hot tub outside our cabin, and all food and drink covered.  Friday come home, Kathy gets a couple of down days before Fall term classes start on Monday 8/31.

But last night (8/4), a thought came over me: we’ll be quite a ways west anyway, why not take it to the coast?  I didn’t discuss it with Kathy but slept on it.  Maybe that’s why I woke up at 4:30.  I was going to e-mail my LJ host and friend Ken Kalunian to ask if a trip there was even advisable.  He’d been frank with me in June saying it would be folly to come out then because COVID.  Instead, I looked into specifics.  Very reasonable flights were there for a COS-SAN-DTW swing.  So, I booked them on Travelocity.  Have 24 hours to cancel if Ken or Kathy don’t approve.  I then went looking for a Windnsea Beach cottage.  La Jolla Vacation Rentals, run by one of Ken’s old girlfriends and who had rented us our places last 2 times out, had nothing, but VRBO did.  So we have a La Jolla cottage at 333 ½ Playa del Sur, 2 blocks to the beach.  Booked.  All before Kathy got up.

When I explained my fiendish plot to her, she was concerned she wouldn’t have enough time to prep for classes.  I pointed out that (a.) she’d been teaching the same class all summer and was likely “warmed up” and (b.) she’d have 6 uninterrupted hours in first class on the flight home Sunday.  She finally agreed it was a good idea to go.

I’ve checked out some of our favorite LJ haunts on line – Karl’s, Public House, Promiscuous Fork, “Lotta Dudes” (Latitude 32) – and all were open.  Ken finally checked in saying most places were open outdoors, with seating expanded into streets and parking lots.  Even some churches were having outdoor services.  Ours – LJPres (https://ljpres.org/) – was not.

So, barring a surge in COVID that prompts Gov. Newsome to lock things down again, we’re ready and rarin’ to go.  The COVID numbers have been going down.  San Diego county was never very bad.  So LJ, here we come!

Clean!

I had a COVID test last week Thursday!  The real deal where they stick a test tube brush up your nose halfway to your brain and give it a good scrape.   I got hit so hard by some bug in the middle of the night Tuesday, I told enough to the triage nurse the next day to tick off enough items that she referred me to the COVID hotline nurse who got me an urgent appointment in COVID respiratory clinic.  The Nurse Practitioner who saw me thought I just had a strept throat, but did the swab anyway.  Weeks ago I had set up a Zoom get together for some of the Vicksburg High class of ’70 (46 emails on my list, 10-12 have been signing in).  I was feeling crappy enough that morning I had my doubts I’d be much of a participant.  I sent out an email to the 46 telling them this, and mentioning the COVID stuff.  I took my first penicillin later that afternoon and felt enough better by 7 PM to take part in the Zoom.  My friend and VHS classmate Jim Northam’s invite list – for the small party at his lake house he’s throwing instead of the 50th reunion we were supposed to have the night before – looks a lot like my Zoom list.  Some intending to go to his party are sensitive about this communicable disease stuff.  One – Forrest – even emailed me (something he never does anymore) on Friday to ask about my test results.  I assured him that both the strept and COVID tests were negative.  I began to worry that perhaps some of the other guests might not be so forward with their concerns, but nevertheless uncomfortable with the situation.  For them, I constructed a placard with my COVID test results on one side and “CLEAN” in big letters on the other.  Forrest was not completely placated by my placard, sure that I was still going to give him whatever it was I’d had.


I’m all better, still with some penicillin to finish.  I was pretty limp Saturday afternoon after several hours in that withering July sun, but mercifully it got cooler by evening and I perked up.  One consequence of the illness was I went 48 hours with no alcohol other than some sips of wine while Zooming.  Bug had totally taken away my tasted for beer.  Some bug.  Think how thin I could get if I could isolate that active principle.  Happy to say I’ve totally recovered on that front.

The bioassay has been incubating for 6 days now, and there have been no positives.  All of Northam’s guests are as well now as before. So I wasn’t carrying some killer culture-negative superbug ready to wipe out my friends despite my sign, test results and penicillin.  That’s good.  These are all special friends.  The old ones are best.  So glad they’ll all get to grow a little older.

lockdowns?

I’m taking the lazy way out today, letting some other writer tell you something I think you’d like to know. I’m still not good for much after some bug hit me so hard Monday night to tally up enough points to earn a COVID test, the up the nose with a test tube brush kind. But I feel so much better after just 2 of the penicillins the NP prescribed me for what she thought was a strept throat, I think the only COVID stat I’ll be adding to is “number tested”. I get my results later today.

Steve Hayward, a political writer not a physician or scientist, wrote today in Powerline about a study reported yesterday in Lancet in which the investigators scrutinized COVID stats from 50 countries, seeing how they relate to population demographics in those countries, and to the government policies in each country. I’ll let Mr. Hayward tell you the details, but 3 things that struck me were: 1) it hurts to be rich and fat (“ Increased mortality per million was significantly associated with higher obesity prevalence and per capita gross domestic product (GDP).“), 2) border closings and lockdowns did not have an effect of COVID mortality, and 3) smoking could be protective, which I’d written about before (https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/theviewfromharbal.com/448). Of no surprise was their finding that recovery rate were better in countries with better health care systems.

Since many of our leaders are itching to do it all over again, maybe we should look at what we did the first time and not repeat our mistakes. The Lancet study is a start. https://www.powerlineblog.com/archives/2020/07/were-the-lockdowns-effective-at-all.php

For those of you who want to straight to the source, here ya go: https://www.thelancet.com/action/showPdf?pii=S2589-5370%2820%2930208-X

no fat for you, Mr. Corona!

With this pandemic you never know what the next piece of news will be, or what part of the world it will come from. Every once in a while it’s good news, and todays item is very much that. And we shouldn’t be surprised it originates from that little sliver of the Levant on the Mediterranean that houses a lot of the smartest people in the world. Thank God for Israel. The Israelis don’t claim all the credit for today’s feat. They had help from Mt. Sinai, the one in New York City.

Not that I can come close to getting into the head of a scientist at Hebrew U. or Mt. Sinai, let alone duplicate the workings there, but I think it went something like this:

  1. coronavirus infected lungs accumulate fat
  2. cells stoked with fat support more efficient replication of coronavirus
  3. drugs exist to reduce fat accumulation
  4. let’s do the experiment!

Despite what those emails you get say, there aren’t any drugs to keep you from putting on fat. But attempts to develop drugs that alter lipid (fat) metabolism have going on since cholesterol was declared a problem. Since 1976, when the Japanese biochemist Akira Endo of the Sankyo Company isolated a factor from the fungus Penicillium citrinum which he identified as a competitive inhibitor of 3-hydroxy-3-methyl-glutaryl-coenzyme A reductase (HMG-CoA reductase), we’ve had some pretty good drugs for this. Dr. Endo’s compound, which he named compactin or mevastatin, was the first statin to be administered to humans. It took 20 years to prove them safe and effective, and in 1996 Lipitor was released. The first cholesterol drug was clofibrate (Atromid-S), which increases the activity of extrahepatic lipoprotein lipase (LL), thereby increasing lipoprotein triglyceride lipolysis (fat breakdown!). Chylomicrons (the form fat takes to float around in your blood after you absorb it) are degraded, VLDLs (very low density lipoporotein, fat and protein complexes that can get into cells) are converted to LDLs (low density lipoprotein), and LDLs are converted to HDL (“good” cholesterol!). All the ‘DLs carry triglyceride (fat), but density goes up as triglycerides are pealed or eaten away. Where did it come from? Well, in 1954 J. Cottet of Paris reported that farm workers exposed to an insecticide which was sprayed from the air over fields in the region of Clermont-Ferrand in France became ill and were found to have remarkably low plasma cholesterol. This insecticide (phenyl ethyl acetic acid) had been developed by the agricultural division of Imperial Chemical Industries (ICI). A chemist in ICI, Jeff Thorp, recognized the potential of this substance and synthesized an analogue, chlorophenoxyisobutyrate (later called Atromid-S or clofibrate). Thorp contact Michael Oliver of the University of Edinburg to gauge his interest, which was substantial. A few years with rats, then with any normal folks hanging around he could cajole to get the dose right (no review boards in those days), then finally into clinical trials in 1964. The first big trial, conducted under the auspices of the World Health Organization, was a disappointment, with excess non-cardiac deaths and gallstones being problems. Although it never received FDA approval, clofibrate was the only cholesterol drug around in the 60s and early 70s. Other safer and more effective agents were developed and Atromid-S was taken off the market completely in 1978. Fenofibrate (TriCor) was developed by Groupe Fournier SA of France, patented in 1969, came into medical use in France in 1975, and was approved by the FDA in 2004. Its mechanism of action is basically the same as clofibrate’s. While its use to lower cholesterol has mainly been supplanted by the statins, there are some patients with high cholesterol whose main problem is with triglycerides. For them, TriCor is the drug of choice. It also lowers uric acid, and is used off-label in some difficult-to-control gout patients. I have prescribed it for that purpose myself. The problems with gallstones and excessive non-cardiac death have not emerged.

Funny how what goes around comes around. A chemical made to kill pests gives rise to a drug that lowers cholesterol mainly by breaking down fat which then shows it can break down the fat in lungs on which our biggest pest of the day is feeding, killing said pest! Take that Mr. Corona! We’re gonna get you one way or another!

https://www.jpost.com/health-science/hebrew-u-scientist-drug-could-eradicate-covid-19-from-lungs-in-days-635028

Oliver M.  The clofibrate saga: a retrospective commentary.  Br J Clin Pharmacol. 2012 Dec; 74(6): 907–10.

Bend me, shape me

Andrew Ripps and his Bendcare company have risen from COVID and will conduct another “Summit” in Colorado Springs, at the luxurious Broadmoor, next week.  I was so moved by the summit I attended in January, I set about to compose a response, which I’ve sat on till now.  I’m getting it out now, as the new summit will almost certainly leave me with new impressions.  I’m particularly interested in what the ever foreword-thinking Dr. Ripps will have to say about rheumatology practice in the world of coronavirus, especially how you can still make money, a mission at which my own Division has miserably failed.

Thoughts on the Bendcare Summit, US Grant Hotel, San Diego 1/17-19/20

The invite came out of the blue.  On a cold day in early November somebody named Michael Prondecki wants to fly me to San Diego in January and put me up at a luxury hotel to participate in the first of the year “Bendcare Summit” with 80 of my peer “top Rheumatologists” from around the country.  Few other details, but there’s CME involved and he’s not asking me to talk.  To San Diego in January could easily be added “my San Diego”, e.g. LaJolla, with a chance to revisit some of the fun of those 3 months Kathy and I spent there 3 winters ago on my UCSD sabbatical.  I quickly emailed Ken Kalunian, my friend and UCSD host, to ask if these guys were legit.  When his affirmative answer came, I could no longer sit through the ever more boring seminar at the Ford school to rush home to my computer and accept my invitation while making further flight and AirBnB plans.  I’d texted Kathy during the seminar and she was all in.  Turns out Prondecki had been peppering me for months with invites to other great locations.  I think it was the San Diego that got my attention.

Set we were soon for a DTW-SAN Friday 1/17, two nights at US Grant’s son’s hotel, then 3 nights at an AirBnB near LaJolla’s rocky and wondrous Windnsea beach.  It turned out to be even more of a trip than that, which I’ve written about earlier in this blog. (https://theviewfromharbal.com/2020/01/17/way-too-early-on-a-friday-morning-january-17th-a-pre-travelogue/, https://theviewfromharbal.com/2020/01/21/brady-in-pb/, https://theviewfromharbal.com/2020/01/22/another-hard-day-in-lj/)

Although it seemed to take forever on the twisty-turny limo ride from SAN to the US Grant, we got there, got checked in, were challenged by the ice machine situation (see https://theviewfromharbal.com/2020/01/29/ice-at-the-us-grant/), but got spruced up enough to go to the welcoming walking dinner/reception.  I didn’t recognize a single face.  Most of us were older.  Kathy and I struck up conversations with a few, particularly an outdoorsy guy with a pony-tail from Minneapolis (all of us escaping the cold), as we wandered from table to table stuffing and drowning ourselves.  My fear of being found out as clinically inactive (I wasn’t retired yet) never materialized, and by the looks of some wandering about, it was clear many were ever looking forward to the 8th of each month.

Morning brought entry into the big meeting room, with mounds of sumptuous breakfast fare surrounding the meeting tables, the whole roomed rimmed by colorful displays of the supporting pharmaceutical companies, each manned during breaks by the attractive personable female (and some male) representatives of each respective company.

 There was to be no scrambling for seats, as all participants were assigned a place.

There I was, seated next to the Klash.  He was one of my dear friend and all-time scopy buddy Ken Kalunian’s first fellows who had joined me on several mastheads.  We’d known each other a long time and kept in touch.  Currently in private practice in Torrence, he was intently into this stuff as he desired to transform his practice but was being held back by some more conservative partners.  Spread before us were several tchotchkes, including a program folder with an actual phonograph record inside, a book we should all read (but I haven’t yet: Daniel Coyle’s The Culture Code), a pen that is also a USB drive, pretty cool, a penlight that shone the Bendcare logo like Batman’s searchlight, and in that mysterious red and black leather container, a reusable metal straw complete with cleaning brush.  Taking care of the earth is so cool nowadays.  The retro angle pervaded, from the references to the old “Mission Impossible” (not the Tom Cruise remakes), to the rotary phones and old desks in the projections and old-looking phonograph record players on each desk. For us at this Summit, it was “Mission Possible”, transforming our practices with Bendcare’s assistance. We were all in this together.

Some assembled agents take their briefing:

The program began with a wild animated feature that sought to portray each of us a superhero fighting against those forces that made clinical rheumatology less fun, less lucrative, and less satisfying to our patients nowadays.  Who wouldn’t buy in to a program that would do that?  Dr. Ripps himself, who made his original fortune organizing the first boutique practices, a pharmacist by training, stepped up with some rousing general comments.  His aim was to achieve “healthier healthcare”.  Finishing by saying we should all “kill, crush, and destroy” those forces impeding us, he had us in a lather that would last all weekend.

The program which followed could have come from any general rheumatology CME course.  All speakers were seasoned and adept veterans of such presentations.  Each speaker dealt faithfully from their deck of stylish, detailed, industry-provided slides.  Some speakers went off-script to varying degrees with one, Dr. Wells, displaying the zeal of an old time gospel preacher for a most entertaining show.

Punctuating interest in the program, at least among the male participants, was the gorgeous young woman who introduced each speaker: pretty, pouty and petite, her straight long black hair flowed all the way down the back of her snug red dress as her luminous eyes flashed across the darkened room, seeking out the uninvolved.  She also had the duty of passing around the microphone in the Q&A after each talk.  She used the empty chair next to me to rest the large padded cube of a microphone she would toss about to participants who had questions for the speaker.  At times, she would rest herself in that chair, holding the microphone in her lap as I silently sighed my wish I could be that microphone.  I’m sure the prospect of sidling up to her encouraged audience participation.  Ripps sure knows what he’s doing.

Not just at breakfast, but at lunch and dinner too, in front of the displays, tables bearing silver vessels laden with food more beautiful and delicious than the drug reps it displaced would appear.  I approached lunch with the ravenous appetite of someone who had been digging ditches all morning rather than sitting and listening to talks.

By mid-afternoon, Klash had cracked the code. He’d actually sat down with one of the Bendcare folks to see what their deal was all about.  He produced for me this mandela.

Bendcare offers all sorts of bundled services.  You actually buy in by joining American Arthritis and Rheumatology Associates (AARA, don’t try to find ’em on the net), a parent corporation.  Costs $3000 up front, then $550/mo.  Bendcare makes most of its money on your data, which I’m too much of a boomer to understand.  But they have the biggest base of patient outcomes data of anyone in the world.  Must be important to somebody.

As the afternoon wore on, more and more of the participants opted for 65o  and sunny San Diego over our dark ballroom and presentations from slide decks.  The crowd was so sparse by mid-afternoon that we all got a text message before the 3 o’clock break pleading us to return for the day’s remaining speakers.  My break was highlighted by a lively conversation with a pretty blonde, 6’ plus 4” heels, drug rep (I forget the product), followed by a reminder I was really loved when I caught my wife working away at an outdoor table at the fish house across the way, kitty corner from the hotel, having taken the time to order a beer for me before I arrived.  I still tore myself away to finish the afternoon.  Not all the participants fared so well in the late afternoon sessions.

In the “happy hour” that supervened between session and dinner, Ripps started to get down to the nitty gritty of what it meant to sign up with Bendcare.  The room was well populated with converts, if not too well stocked with booze, who stood up and testified how their practices had changed for the better.  Questions from the curious were entertained, and a lot of us trickled out to sit at the hotel bar where we actually had to pay for our drinks but could at least talk to each other.

Dinner was a lively affair, with fired up participants flying all over the place with full plates and drinks, gabbing away.  My friend and colleague Elena was there and we plotted how we could break free of the U, start our own practice, and make millions with Ripps’ help.  Ripps was circulating and I sought him out to shake his hand and thank him.  I offered that he was helping to alleviate the rheumatologist shortage by enticing the disgruntled retired to reenter the workforce with the prospect of facing a more friendly environment under his wing.  He liked that.

Sunday was a half day to be endured until Mike Prondecki handed you your check.  Ripps’  IT guy took the stage and tried to explain how big data is so important.  Still not getting it.  But Bendcare offers an EMR far more friendly than EPIC.  I’m all for that.

Kathy and I were itching to get up to La Jolla so we could attend services at La Jolla Presbyterian (https://ljpres.org/), the incomparable Pastor Cunningham presiding.  Yes, we were looking forward to the better part of a week on Windnsea Beach, but we really did want to go to church.  So no AS update or TB for me.  Mike was kind enough to slip Kathy my check anyway.  There’ll be more of these Summits.  They allow you two a year, and they’re all in fabulous locations https://www.bendcare.com/summits/, returning participants encouraged.  You rheumatology docs out there with any sort of interest should sign up.  They’re not selling Florida timeshares.  Just hope, and we all could use a dose of that.

So Bendcare is o.k. by me.  If I do get back to work by starting a new private practice, I’ll be leaning on them heavily.  Long as they love me, it’s alright. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO35iRn67i4

six feet?

It always used to be ten, that being the length of the pole with which you wouldn’t want to touch the ugly girl in school.  But ever since the CDC started making announcements in February about what we need to do to protect ourselves from COVID-19, it’s been six feet we’re to be kept apart, 2 good arm’s lengths of a pretty tall person.  WHO, lording over the rest of the world, mandates only 3 feet of separation (a meter, 39.37 inches, actually).  But where are they getting this stuff?  Well, it turns out they’re not totally making this up.

The obvious notion that respiratory illness is spread by droplets containing the bug emitted by the infected person dates to an 1897 report by Carl Flügge, a German bacteriologist and hygienist.  Engineer William Wells of Harvard reported in 1934 on the travel of droplets containing the most important respiratory pathogen of that day, tuberculosis. He used a very simple calculation to conclude that large droplets travelled about 3 feet but no more than 6 feet before falling to the ground.  He also discovered that small droplets were too light to succumb to gravity so could travel even further.  This informed the WHO’s guidelines.  The CDC leaned on more recent research, conducted after the 2003 SARS outbreak (COVID-19’s full name is “SARS-CoV-2”; it’s a very closely related coronavirus).  16 investigators coordinated by the CDC, but flung as far as Singapore, Taiwan, China and Thailand, looked at passengers who had acquired SARS on 3 long distance flights carrying known infected patients (https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/nejmoa031349).  One flight carrying 315 passengers from Hong Kong to Taipei contained one passenger who only got sick later and did not infect anyone else.  In a flight from Hong Kong to Beijing, surprise, it was riskier to sit close to a SARS patient, with 8 of the 23 passengers who were seated in the same row as the patient or in the three rows in front of him becoming infected, as compared with 10 of the 88 passengers who were seated elsewhere (relative risk, 3.1; 95 percent confidence interval, 1.4 to 6.9). It is notable that 56 percent of the passengers who became infected were not seated in the same row as the index patient or in the three rows in front of him.  Of course, there’s no better place to promulgate an airborne infection than the cabin of an airplane with its pressurized non-circulated air. In a flight that followed from Hong Kong to Taipei, 4 of the infected passengers from the previous flight were among the 246 aboard.  Of 166 later interviewed, only one got sick (fever and cough) but tested negative for SARS. But there’s your 6 foot rule.

Dr. Bourouiba of The Fluid Dynamics of Disease Transmission Laboratory at MIT found that a good cough or sneeze can propel droplets as far as 23-27 feet (https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jama/fullarticle/2763852).  Yikes!  And that cloud can stay airborne for quite a while, even wending its way through air circulation systems.  More reason to get outdoors as much as possible.

Just last month, 6 authors on behalf of the COVID-19 Systematic Urgent Review Group Effort (SURGE) published in Lancet (https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(20)31142-9/fulltext) “Physical distancing, face masks, and eye protection to prevent person-to-person transmission of SARS-CoV-2 and COVID-19: a systematic review and metanalysis”.  They identified 172 observational studies across 16 countries and six continents. Transmission of viruses was lower with physical distancing of 1 m or more, compared with a distance of less than 1 m; protection was increased as distance was lengthened.  Face mask use could result in a large reduction in risk of infection, with stronger associations with N95 or similar respirators compared with disposable surgical masks. Eye protection also was associated with less infection.

So, yep, getting farther away and putting up barriers seems to help protect.  But only this guy is really safe:

Sad state.  Me, I’m for as many to get infected as soon as possible to build up that herd immunity.  In the meantime, let me propose a couple of theme songs for this issue:

It’s a cliché by now, but stay safe.

head Doc

Anthony Stephan Fauci, M.D., Head of the National Institutes for Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID), is a hero to many. Not me. But once upon a time he was. Just as I was entering Rheumatology (’82), Fauci had been publishing the results of his breakthrough treatment of the rare, sexy, and serious rheumatic disease polyarteritis nodosa. In affected patients, medium sized arteries, like the coronaries that supply the heart or the renals that feed the kidney, would become inflamed, often block up, and sometimes rupture, with sheer misery from the ongoing systemic inflammatory response followed by organ failure and death all too commonly. Corticosteroids could dampen the inflammation, but the doses needed were so massive as to leave the patient wracked with the complications of steroid excess: profound weight gain, weakened muscle, bones and skin, diabetes, hypertension, and susceptibility to infection. Fauci added an old chemotherapy poison – cyclophosphamide (Cytoxan), derived from mustard gas (yes, think WWI) – which knocked back the blood vessel inflammation much more effectively. Docs had been doing this now and then for 2 decades, but Fauci had the patients and organization of the NIH behind him, culminating in a nice New England Journal paper (N Engl J Med 301:235–238, 1979 https://www-nejm-org.proxy.lib.umich.edu/doi/full/10.1056/NEJM197908023010503). The “Fauci regimen” is still used for vasculitis, although some newer biologics, like rituximab, have begun to replace it. Many articles followed and there was a slim book with coauthor Thomas R. Cupps that became the bible for treating vasculitis.

I’ve never met Dr. Fauci, but I must have heard him speak. He used to be everywhere in rheumatology. But my friend Deb from Barnes has. She’s 4 years behind me so we never overlapped as house officers. As a 4th year medical student from Louisville, she rotated for a month at the NIH. Dr. Fauci was her main attending. Deb found him to be an excellent teacher, but was “intimidated by his intellect”. Deb towered over him (she’s 5’10” to his barely 5’7″), and couldn’t help but notice how he was turned out sartorially. In the NIH of the early 80s, everyone “dressed like janitors”, except for Deb’s attending. He showed up to work every day in a fresh 3 piece suit, his Phi Beta Kappa key on proud display. I guess dressing for success worked, as not long after that he left the world of vasculitis and jumped on the AIDS bandwagon. Immunosuppression – doing it and dealing with the complications – was what he was all about anyway, so why not look at it from the virus’ point of view? He quickly was placed at the top of his new institute – NIAID, funded for 2020 to the tune of $5.89 billion – and is into his fourth decade on the job. His training and experience is in immunology not infectious diseases, although he certainly bumped up against viruses in his time with AIDS. I wish they would trot out his boss – the esteemed future Nobel Prize winner and head of the NIH Francis Collins, once of U of M and a serious, devout and thoughtful doctor.

Once of my favorite writers – Victor Davis Hanson of Stanford’s Hoover Institute – has a piece today that begins with his take on Dr. Fauci. The whole piece also gets into presidential politics and racial issues (https://amgreatness.com/2020/07/05/an-industry-of-untruth), but I paste in below just the section on Dr. Fauci and coronavirus.

Viral confusion

Unfortunately few in authority have been more wrong, and yet more self-righteously wrong, than the esteemed Dr. Anthony Fauci. Given his long service as the director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and his stature during the AIDS crisis, he has rightly been held up by the media as the gold standard of coronavirus information. The media has constructed Fauci as a constant corrective of Trump’s supposed “lies” about the utility of travel bans, analogies with a bad flu year, and logical endorsement of hydroxychloroquine as a “what do you have to lose” possible therapy.

But the omnipresent Fauci himself unfortunately has now lost credibility. The reason is that he has offered authoritative advice about facts, which either were not known or could not have been known at the time of his declarations.

Since January, Fauci has variously advised the nation both that the coronavirus probably was unlikely to cause a major health crisis in the United States and later that it might yet kill 240,000 Americans. In January, he praised China for its transparent handling of the coronavirus epidemic, not much later he conceded that perhaps they’d done a poor job of that. He has cautioned that the virus both poses low risks and, later, high risks, for Americans. Wearing masks, Fauci warned, was both of little utility and yet, later, essential. Hydroxychloroquine, he huffed, had little utility; when studies showed that it did, he still has kept mostly silent.

At various times, he emphasized that social distancing and avoiding optional activities were mandatory, but earlier that blind dating and going on cruise ships were permissible. Fauci weighed in on the inadvisability of restarting businesses prematurely, but he has displayed less certainty hedged about the millions of demonstrators and rioters in the streets for a month violating quarantines. The point is not that he is human like all of us, but that in each of these cases he asserted such contradictions with near-divine certainty—and further confused the public in extremis.

In terms of how the United States “fared,” it is simply untrue that Europe embraced superior social policies in containing the virus. The only somewhat reliable assessments of viral lethality are population numbers and deaths by COVID-19, although the latter is often in dispute.

By such rubrics, the United States, so far, has fared better than most of the major European countries—France, Italy, the United Kingdom, Spain, Sweden, and Belgium—in terms of deaths per million. Germany is the one major exception. But if blame is to be allotted to public officials for the United States having a higher fatality rate than Germany, then the cause is most likely governors of high-death, Eastern Seaboard states—New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Connecticut in particular. They either sent the infected into rest homes, or did not early on ensure that their mass transit systems were sanitized daily as well as practicing social distancing.

New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, more than any other regional or national leader, is culpable for decisions that doomed thousands of elderly patients. He did not just suggest long-term-care facilities receive active COVID-19 patients, but ordered them to take them—knowing at the time that the disease in its lethal manifestations targeted the elderly, infirm, and bedridden.

Then in shameful fashion, after thousands died, Cuomo claimed that either the facilities themselves or Donald Trump were responsible for the deaths. In truth, in the United States, the coronavirus is largely a fatal disease in two senses: the vulnerable in just four states on the Eastern Seaboard that account for about 12 percent of the nation’s population but close to half of its total COVID-19 fatalities, and/or patients in rest homes or those over 65 years old with comorbidities.

Why are there currently spikes in cases among young people in warmer states and those of less population density in late June? No one is certain. But one likely reason is that millions of protestors for nearly a month crammed the nation’s cities, suburbs, and towns, shouting and screaming without masks, violating social distancing, and often without observant hand washing and sanitizing—most often with official exemption or media and political approval.

The period of exposure and incubation is over, and the resulting new cases—for the most part asymptomatic and clustered among the young—are thus no surprise. Still,  what is inconvenient is the rise in these cases—given that the Left either had claimed its mass demonstrations would not spread the disease, or, if they would, the resulting contagion was an affordable price to pay for the cry of the heart protests.

Perhaps, but the real cost of four weeks of protesting, rioting, and looting was to undermine the authority of state officials to enforce blatant violations of the quarantine. Obviously, if some can march with impunity in phalanxes of screaming, shoulder-to-shoulder protestors, while others are jailed as individuals trying to restart a business, then the state has lost its credibility with people and they will simply ignore further edicts as they see fit. Now what adjudicates quarantines are the people’s own calibrations of their own safety.

Mismanagement of the virus? There have been four disastrous official policy decisions: sending patients into rest homes; allowing millions en masse for political reasons to violate state mandates on masks and social distancing; retroactively attempting to reissue quarantine standards that their advocates and authors had themselves earlier de facto destroyed; and consistently issuing pandemic alerts solely on the flawed basis of new positive cases, without distinguishing those who were asymptomatic, or who were infected and recovered without ever being tested, or who were asymptomatic and tested positive for antibodies, or who were only briefly ill, recovered, and by no means still a case-patient.

Plaquenil yay!

Sorry if I seem to be getting lazy by just posting other’s articles. I’ve posted several times about Plaquenil and Mr. Corona. Me, if I were on the front lines, I’d be taking it just like President Trump is. But this study, conducted by our neighbors at Henry Ford in Detroit, didn’t focus on that aspect. What is it that people have against old, cheap, available and safe?

https://justthenews.com/politics-policy/coronavirus/trump-touted-covid-19-drug-hydroxychloroquine-works-according-new-study

Those whining lupoids and rheumatoids are just going to have to share. We’ve got a life-and-death pandemic here. Plus cook up those vats, Sanofi-Aventis, Covis and Concordia!