A Novel Way to Document End-of-Life Preferences
By Paula Span
Maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong.
In the continuing campaign to get people, particularly the
old and sick, to discuss their preferences for end-of-life care, we’ve been
pushing for them to have intimate conversations with family members.
Web sites like The
Conversation Project and PREPARE, campaigns like National Healthcare Decisions Day in April, my own posts
here — all reflect the idea that Americans can overcome their apparent aversion
to acknowledging mortality if their children will just talk to them.
Progress on this front has been slow, however. Pew Research
surveys found in 1990 that 12 percent of Americans had a “living will,” a
figure that rose to just 29 percent by 2005. So on a nearly daily basis, the
palliative care specialist Dr. Joshua Lakin told me in an interview, “I’d see
someone who’d had lung cancer for several years, who’d been in and out of the
hospital, had seen 20 doctors, and still hadn’t thought about the future and
his priorities. It kind of blindsided me.”
So Dr. Lakin, who just completed a fellowship at the
University of California, San Francisco, and some colleagues took an entirely
different approach to what is called advance care planning. They experimented
with brib . . . er, incentivizing doctors. And whaddya know, it worked.
As the team reported in
JAMA Internal Medicine last week, the UCSF Medical Center has an
incentive program to improve quality; each year its doctors-in-training pick
one area to focus on. For the 2011-2012 academic year, the internal medicine
department decided to concentrate on documenting patients’ advance care
decisions.
The researchers came up with a standard form, which was
inserted in patients’ electronic health records. It asked just a few questions:
Does the patient have any “expressed wishes” about how much care he wants or
doesn’t? Where are those preferences recorded — in a living will, a durable
power of attorney, a P.O.L.S.T.
form (which would be scanned into the record). Or are they expressed
orally?
The researchers’ form requests a brief summary: He doesn’t
want to be resuscitated or intubated? She wants a feeding tube but not a
ventilator? Or she wants “all available care?” Does he have a designated
decision maker? What is that person’s name and phone number, and what language
does he or she speak?
If residents recorded this information for at least 75
percent of discharged patients, for three of the four quarters in the academic
year, they each got a $400 bonus. If not, they didn’t.
The hospital, not the researchers, established that sum, but
“it was enough to get people motivated,” Dr. Lakin noted. Residents around the
country earn between $40,000 and $50,000 a year, plus housing stipends. An
additional 400 dollars isn’t life-changing, but it’s not pin money, either. And
the researchers sent out bar graphs via e-mail to point out if teams were
hitting the goal or endangering everyone’s bonus. (“Marketing 101,” Dr. Lakin
called it.)
The experiment followed nearly 1,500 patients, more than
half the adults (of all ages) seen by the hospital’s medical department that
year.
In July, the first month, only about 22 percent had their
preferences documented, roughly the same proportion as before the incentives
began. So “the template itself wasn’t enough,” Dr. Lakin said.
But by October, following Marketing 101, the
proportion of patients with documented preferences hit 90 percent
and stayed there. By contrast, a separate team of attending physicians who
didn’t participate in the incentive program averaged less than 12 percent for
the year.
So maybe we don’t have to keep nudzhing our parents, bracing
for uncomfortable discussions. Maybe a doctor, at a hospital or not, can do
this in 10 minutes without angst.
Of course, the study doesn’t answer some major questions. We
don’t know how much of an incentive, if any, would motivate practicing
physicians, who are paid more than residents. We also don’t know whether simply
having a standard form in your medical records means that you will actually
have your wishes respected — that you’ll be put on a ventilator if you said
you’d want that, but not if you said you didn’t.
But we do have some idea of the scenario that ensues when
people have never discussed their wishes. The medical conveyor belt cranks up.
“There’s a set of default choices in the hospital system, which does things unless
told not to,” Dr. Lakin said.
I’d still rather have the family conversation. But so often,
it never takes place. Stricken families, sometimes bitterly at odds, wonder
what Mom would want if she could speak. Maybe nobody really knows. Maybe, for a
paltry sum compared with the cost of a single day in intensive care, her doctor
could have found out.