“I have a pill for that”

When doctors delay or misdiagnose patients

In June 1998, three years after my stage 2a breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, I was sitting in my wheeled office chair.  I pushed off with my left foot to access a file cabinet.  “OUCH!  That hurt!”  My hip screamed.  I got up and walked around, trying to shake it off.

But I couldn’t shake it off.  The pain worsened.  Over a few weeks, it got to the point where I could barely walk.

In the meantime, I had a follow up oncology appointment with a “fill in” oncologist as my other oncologist moved away and her replacement was yet to arrive. 

Dr. R looked at my lab results, saying nothing about his impressions of those results, and gave me the side-eye.  I told him about the pain in my hip and at the time I thought it might be getting better.  Side-eye #2.  No communication.

I thought “This doctor has the bedside manner of a walnut.”

I was offered prescription strength acetaminophen and told to see him again in 6-8 weeks.  No explanation as to why this early return appointment.

Nothing.

I hobbled back to my next appointment with Dr. R.  He said he wanted me to do x-rays, bone and CT scans.  He didn’t really explain why.

It took a few months to get all the scans taken, compared and analyzed.  This was 1998.  The Dark Ages of diagnostics – there were not many pieces of imaging equipment, imaging sessions took longer and that caused major scheduling delays. 

A few weeks after the results were in, I met with Dr. R again.  He finally told me that scans found “suspicious lesions in my left ischium” and that I needed a bone biopsy to confirm.  But they didn’t know how to approach the biopsy so he would need to consult with various people.

He never said “cancer.”  But I knew that is exactly what it was.

It took 6 weeks to receive a call to schedule the outpatient bone biopsy.  I tearfully called the scheduling department every few days asking for an update.

My hip injury happened late June and it was now Thanksgiving.  I’d invited my entire extended family over for a Thanksgiving Feast.

It took over five months to finally receive my diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer to the bone.  Therapy started the week of Christmas.

When I think back on this, I wonder if Dr. R was concerned that he might frighten me if he shared his suspicions.  What he didn’t know was that I was already frightened, frightened to the point of not saying or asking anything.  That is totally unlike me.  But he didn’t know that.

I’ve shared my stories with others living with Metastatic Breast Cancer.  They are not shocked.  They nod their heads and say “OK.  This is what happened to me before I was finally diagnosed.”

Then my jaw drops.  Every time.

When presenting with symptoms of breast cancer or metastatic breast cancer–even for those who had early stage disease–these are things patients have told me:

Doctor comments heard before being diagnosed with early stage breast cancer:

  • “You’re too young to have breast cancer.”
  • “That’s just an infection.  Happens all the time during lactation.”
  • “You have no family history of breast cancer and don’t have any risk factors.  You’re fine.”
  • “Breast cancer doesn’t hurt.”
  • “You have no lump on the mammogram.  Therefore, you have no breast cancer.”
  • “You just have lumpy breasts.”

Doctor comments heard before being diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer:

  • “Everyone starts feeling like that at age (fill in the blank).  We’re all getting older.”
  • “You probably have colon issues.  Try this laxative.”
  • “Your back hurts because you garden so much.”
  • “Maybe your abdominal pain is due to your diet.”
  • “It’s not that unusual to feel dizzy from time to time.”

The bottom line?  Patients hearing comments like this are often told to wait six months because the symptoms will probably go away.  “This pill can help you manage those symptoms.”

But the symptoms don’t always go away.  Now the patient starts questioning their doctor and trust in their doctor wanes.  Many patients start “doctor shopping.”  They want to find someone who can help them, not dismiss them.

My friend Lynda sums it up like this:  “We are missed, then dismissed.  But we must persist.”

Missed or delayed diagnosis isn’t common to breast cancer alone.  Some illness are difficult to diagnose.  Doctor’s aren’t perfect.  They practice medicine.  That doesn’t mean they’re always good at it.  My husband reminds me that “50% of all doctors practicing today were in the bottom half of their graduating classes.”

But doctors can learn and the best ones learn something new every day. Often, they learn from their patients.

Doctors can’t learn if they never see the patient again after misdiagnosing them.  Or if they never look to see what eventually happened to that patient.  They don’t have time for that.

So how can patients help?  Send an email to the original doctor telling them what happened?  Keep seeing the same doctor over and over until they are properly diagnosed or referred to the right specialist?  Patients don’t have time for that.

I wish doctors would diagnose themselves. 

Are they a problem solver or do they go by a cookbook? 

If they haven’t seen a certain condition before, why might they assume that condition doesn’t exist and couldn’t exist in this particular patient? 

“Never seen it before so it doesn’t exist.”

We don’t know if delayed diagnosis has any impact on MBC overall survival.  But we do know that it has a tremendous impact on mental well-being, the ability to focus at work, our relationships with our friends, families and co-workers among other things.  Once we know what’s happening, we can start finding solutions and acting. 

I’m hoping new technologies like liquid biopsy may lead us to better and faster diagnostics.

But in the meantime “Here, take this pill.” 

You Publish – We Perish

Stop the Madness

Sometimes I wonder whether the purpose of some cancer research is to beef up biosketches of investigators while contributing to the growth of the medical publishing industry.

Other times I am sure of it.

As a seasoned advocate reviewer for three different breast cancer funding organizations, I’m asked to review the overall impact I believe an application may have on achieving the goal of the particular funding program.  I assess this representing the breast cancer community in total, not my particular medical situation. 

As I read each proposal, I seek answers to questions like these: “So what if this is study funded?  What eventual difference might the research findings make in the lives of patients?”  Sometimes the answers are difficult to find in basic science proposals, but it’s not impossible. 

Each applicant writes what they believe the impact of their study will be if funded and if their hypothesis is correct.  The idea is to make a difference by moving the science ahead in order to one day reduce incidence, improve quality or quantity of live, and/or prevent deaths.  Each program announcement is very clear about the objectives of this section of the application. 

One investigator, who I will call Dr. Nyt (Naïve Yet Truthful), enthusiastically stated in his Impact Statement that if funded, his research would generate two, maybe three manuscripts which would impact his career prospects, and would also put him in a position to get additional funding so he could publish additional studies.

That was the essence of his idea about the overall impact of his work.  That he would publish more articles and further his career.

There is a lot of truth to Dr. Nyt’s comments. 

It’s what many may think, but never write.

If you don’t publish, you don’t keep your job, no less move up.  You don’t Pass Go.  Ever.

Another part of peer review for some funding programs for less experienced scientists, is to review the potential of each applicant to become an independent breast cancer researcher.  During peer review discussion, much energy is put toward questions like these:

For someone at that level, does the fact that they only have four published articles give them a lower rating? 

What if the applicant was first author on all four publications? 

What if the applicant has never been first author, but has been co-author of ten published articles? 

What if the ten articles were published in “low quality” journals?

What if the applicant has only published two articles and is working to get approval on five more? Does that mean they aren’t very productive? 

Little is said about the quality of the contributions the articles may have to scientific progress and how these published articles may eventually influence clinical practice.

The reward system favoring publishing over impact is fraught with long term issues, issues that may have decelerated progress. Focusing on publishable studies may have delayed the groundwork needed to develop new therapies that could extend lives, improve the quality of lives or reduce deaths from breast cancer. The extreme emphasis on publishing may also have discouraged many promising investigators from pursuing a career in the field.

Scientists know this.  In academic settings they play the game because they have to.  It’s the old “publish or perish” — you’re only as good as your last published article, only if it’s accepted by a high-quality journal.  And publishing in any journal is better than not publishing at all.

Over the past six weeks, eight fabulous breast cancer advocates – my friends – have died of metastatic breast cancer.

How many new journals have gone to print over those six weeks?

How many articles have been published? 

How many of those are the career-sustaining articles that will likely go nowhere, except for citations in the next round of articles? 

How many of them end with “in order to know for sure, we need more studies?” 

I fully realize I’m an outsider making observations based on what I see and what I learn about.  In school, I didn’t excel in biology and couldn’t stand following the scientific method.  I’m no expert.

Alone, I have very little power to change anything.  That frustrates me.  People are dying.

Many advocates believe that if we just spent a lot more money on research, we would be closer to ending the death spiral in metastatic breast cancer.  Maybe we could. I’m certainly not against more funding.

But I’m not convinced that by only increasing funding for breast cancer research, we will achieve better outcomes for patients.

There’s more to it than that.

Until we fully examine and change the reward systems for scientists, it will be more difficult to achieve the progress we all want in order to stop our friends and family from dying. 

Let’s stop the madness.