Sometimes an effort to solve a problem just creates different, and at times even more serious problems. Take the electronic medical record (EMR) for example. Please. (Apologies to Henny Youngman).
In a clinic I work
at that uses an EMR, we are required to fill out a “treatment plan” on each
patient. This is - for me at least - a waste of time since my initial
psychiatric evaluation note contains all of the information contained in the
treatment plan, as well as important contextual information about the patient
that is not included in the plan.
The treatment plan
is not only redundant, requiring me to enter information twice, but increases
the number of notes in the medical record, making it more difficult for anyone
reviewing the chart to find specific information they may need to as they
attempt to properly care for a patient.
Sometimes trying to find specific information in the record is like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Since we aren’t given a lot of time to review charts before patients come into see us in the first place, this takes time away from the all-important face time with patients.
Sometimes trying to find specific information in the record is like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Since we aren’t given a lot of time to review charts before patients come into see us in the first place, this takes time away from the all-important face time with patients.
A narrative note is
always better than a form with boxes, which often does not provide a “box” that
adequately addresses an issue for a patient. But having reviewed the notes of
other psychiatrists, I can see why some administrator felt that having a formal
treatment plan in the EMR was a good idea. A lot of the information inherent in a good psychiatric evaluation was
nowhere to be found in the notes from a good percentage of my fellow clinicians.
Not only that, but
many of their follow-up progress notes did not mention what symptoms were being
addressed by the doctor's treatment. Nor did they mention what symptoms, if any, had responded
to any medications that were prescribed, let alone whether or not the symptoms
had actually resolved.
The treatment plan
template wisely asked for these target symptoms. Recently, however, the plan template was
changed to include a question asking the clinician how symptom improvement was
to be measured.
The answer should
be, “by clinical evaluation.” And that is what I always write. However, I think
the designers of the template are looking for some sort of psychological
assessment device, as if that were more valid that a clinician’s evaluation. As
I frequently rant about on this and other blogs, such measures are typically
screening tests consisting of symptom checklists, and as such are NOT meant to
be a measure of clinical progress, let alone of a definitive diagnosis.
The question a good
psychopharmacologist asks, particularly with major mood disorders, is not only
whether the symptoms the patient has have improved. It is whether the patients have returned to
their “baseline,” the way their mood was before
they developed an episode of, say, major depressive disorder.
The Hamilton
Depression Scale (HAM-D) scale for rating depression is one of the most
frequently used symptom checklists, both clinically and in research.
It was published fifty
years ago Max Hamilton (1912–1988). Interestingly, Hamilton himself was forever pointing out
that the HAM-D was not intended to be used to make the diagnosis of depression.
It does not have either sensitivity or specificity—there is a great deal of
overlap with symptoms of other diagnoses, particularly anxiety disorders.
Yet somehow it
became the gold standard for not only evaluating the efficacy of antidepressants, but for measuring symptom improvement clinically.
I would much rather the
administrators of the clinic solved the problem of absurdly vague “progress
notes” by spelling out the minimum information they need to contain, not by asking a stupid question on a treatment plan form.
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