Two communication challenges that
have hit the media recently should act as a warning for the increasing
automation of communication for GPs.
First, there’s the mandatory new
rules for referring patients to public hospital clinics in Victoria; and
second, the ineffective management of patients supported by the National Disability
Insurance Scheme (NDIS), which sees GPs’ involvement relegated to a
form-filling exercise.
Australian Doctor reported last month that
Victoria Health had introduced more formality in GPs’ referrals to specialist
clinics, including vascular surgery, urology and adult ENT. Patients referred
without ‘complete’ information — and the information required is extensive —
will no longer be accepted, nor will patients whose referrals do not satisfy
specific criteria.
For example, a patient referred for
an aortic aneurysm requires radiological evidence that it is at least 4cm in
diameter or is growing more than 1cm a year. And a patient for prostate cancer
assessment must have a PSA level according to certain age criteria, a palpable
prostatic abnormality or bone pain.
These stipulations for referral aim
to make the best use of expensive medical care facilities. Sloppy referrals of
patients probably not needing specialist attention should be reduced. But care
is needed, as with any guideline, to allow clinical judgement to be the final
arbiter. No guideline based on statistically grouped data can fit each case.
While guidelines for referral
concentrate the mind, they should allow for exceptions based on clinical
assessment that need human communication and interaction.
Do we really want to get to a
situation where healthcare is as humanless as the likes of border control
and modern retail?
Recently in the US, I was impressed
(and greatly relieved) to discover that the previous immigration procedures on
entry were now paperless, depending instead on facial recognition and
fingerprints. But the humans, generally friendly, who had staffed the stalls
were also gone.
Arriving at Atlanta, one of the
biggest terminals in the country, we also found the coffee shop ominously
quiet: orders were placed via an iPad at one’s seat and customers silently
consumed refreshments while watching television.
Communications were once based on
people speaking to one another rather than completing forms. In US medical
circles, there is currently lively controversy and debate about what has been
lost with the almost universal move to electronic medical records.
There is evidence of benefit in
reducing medication errors, but it is sparse beyond that. Experienced
clinicians complain about the opportunity cost of the time spent entering data
and the subsequent loss of time for direct patient interaction.
Author John Banville recently
reviewed the wide-ranging book The Unnamable Present by
Roberto Calosso, an Italian polymath. Writing in the New York Review of
Books, Banville quotes Calosso’s concern that, in the brave new world
of the web, “information tends to replace not only knowledge, but thought
in general”.
The internet leads to
“disintermediation” — a loss of connection with others who can help and guide
us — and becomes instead a place where “a man can entangle himself in a series
of algorithms and imagine he is thinking”. Calosso hopes our preoccupation with
digital data “may come to be regarded one day as an instance of mass delirium”.
Why not build into the stylised
referral a two-minute (or maybe five-minute) phone conversation between
the GP and the clinic to ensure everyone is in sync? This suggestion may
provoke mirth because it is naive, but it could be done.
In the case of the NDIS, as with any
new system, there will be discomfort. Management of the program in its early
years has been unimpressive.
Although GPs fill out a bundle of
forms to ensure patients can access the scheme, they’re not deeply involved in
the planning of services and have no direct communication with the NDIS when
they should have. The issue is now concerning both the AMA and the RACGP.
The tendency of communication based
on templates, and information technology, is to reduce the human element and
human interaction. This may be vital to the mechanised production of goods, but
in the provision of collaborative medical services, it utterly misses the
point.
More information: The Unnamable
Present by
Roberto Calasso, reviewed by John Banville
Published in the Medical Observer 4 November 2019 https://bit.ly/33oXkS4
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