Lying naked on the bed

A few weeks ago, my husband went in to have a vasectomy.  I am proud of him-- for being brave (only about 10% of US men get vasectomies); for announcing his reason for missing work to his all-male engineering team (imagine the uncomfortable squirms when he brought up the topic at their weekly debrief); and for taking ultimate responsibility for our family's family planning.

And so ends a two-decades long birth control chapter in this woman's life. Woohoo!

In his defense, he did way less milking of the situation than I had anticipated. I had envisioned him reclining dramatically on the couch with an ice pack on his crotch avoiding normal household duties and requesting room service and an endless supply of cereal and Game of Thrones episodes.  Instead, he came home with a smile on his face, exclaimed, "It wasn't really much more pain than a shot of Novocaine at the dentist", and went about helping out with the day-to-day madness that is having three young children. For the next few days, he took it a little easy, occasionally winced in discomfort, and his only recurring complaint was the itchiness.

All in all, it was a success. And a relief-- for both of us.

All said, I cannot help but ruminate on the one remark he made that I find particularly fascinating and somehow shocking: the totally new and "strange feeling of lying naked in the room waiting for the procedure to begin." He repeated a few times, "I've never been in that position. . . just lying there naked."

Lying naked on the bed.
Waiting for a procedure to begin.
Lying naked on the bed.
Wondering.
Lying naked on the bed.
Scared.
Lying naked on the bed.
Vulnerable.
Lying naked on the bed.
Cold.

How long have I been lying naked on a bed waiting for someone to come in?
Cold.
Vulnerable.
Scared.

Twenty-two years.

Since age 18, upon deciding I was going to have sex for the first time, and I dutifully made an appointment for my very first pack of birth control pills and my very my first pap smear. We don't do this, by the way, anymore. We don't pap 18-year-olds. Pap smears in the US start now at age 21, and in some countries in Europe cervical cancer screening doesn't start until age 30. We also don't tie birth control to the requirement you get a pap smear. Turns out that was a dumb idea. In fact, the only thing that birth control and pap smears have in common is that they kind of sort of both involve your private parts.

Again a year later, when I had another pap.

And again, when I had my first vaginal infection.

And again at age 21, when the Peace Corps required I have a rectal exam in addition to a bimanual  exam to be "cleared for service" (WTF?!?). The bimanual exam-- by the way-- is the "two hand" exam-- you know the one-- one hand inside your vagina, one hand outside on your belly, the one that doesn't feel very good and yet somehow seems important. It turns out that physicians don't really know what they are looking for when they do a screening bimanual exam-- our ability to detect cancers or other badness with our two hands is about the same as flipping a coin. In one study of women with known ovarian tumors, physicians were only able to "find" the tumor by examining with their hands 50% of the time. So this type of exam should only be done with forethought-- when your provider suspects you may have a uterine infection or some lesion that could be helped by examining you. 

And again, when I finished my Peace Corps service.
And again, and again and again.
When I got pregnant. And delivered. And got pregnant. And miscarried. And couldn't get pregnant. And had a test. And then another. And then another.
When I had surgery. And then intrauterine insemination. And then IVF.
When I got pregnant again. And delivered.
When the doctor yelled at me for not being undressed and "ready for him" at my postpartum visit with my fussy 6 week old baby who didn't want to be put down.

And again when I was pregnant with my third child and went in for my intake appointment. I was asked to undress completely, as the physician needed to examine my breasts and do a bimanual exam. The funny thing is-- I let her do it-- despite the fact that I know better. That there was no particular reason she should do such an exam at all. Her time (and mine) would have been better spent probing the safety of my relationship, my fears about my advanced maternal age, or heck, just getting to know me.

And yet, there I was, lying naked on the table.

This post is for you, women. For all of you who have laid naked on the table, wrapped in a generic cloth gown that gapes open no matter how you tie it-- or worse, a paper gown that literally rips into shreds as you attempt to preserve your modesty. And then wait for 3 or 5 or 25 minutes for that fateful knock on the door.  To have your very most private parts examined.

Being naked is scary. It's vulnerable. It's raw.  And, unfortunately, it's part of being a woman-- a woman who has sex, a woman whose parts are tucked up inside of her, a woman whose body is both capable and vulnerable-- to being pregnant, to contract disease, to have all the crazy shit that can happen to our amazing parts (everything from vaginal discharge to pelvic discomfort to herpes to a saggy post menopausal bladder).

This is also a post for you, doctors. The scariest part of being a doctor is being vulnerable to forgetting-- forgetting that every single body we have the privilege to see and touch and examine is that one person's only body. It is their most precious and private part. And they are entrusting me and you to acknowledge the power, recognize the specialness, and do what we need to do to care for them with utmost love and respect.

This is also a post for you, men, who may have less opportunity to lie naked on a table at the doctor's office. But your time, too, will come. You will get a hernia or a weird lump in your testicle, or maybe you will be one of the 10% of US men to sign yourself up for a vasectomy.  (It's not so bad, after all). In the meantime, please do us all a favor, and treat every body you come across (particularly those who are lying naked in front of you) with love and respect.

And some day, when you are scared or sick-- may your body be treated the same.

Choice, Catholic health care, and tubal ligations

Let me tell you a bit about two patients from my practice
The first is a 37-year-old woman pregnant with her second child. Her husband is disabled, and she is the family's primary bread winner. She planned this pregnancy, and as soon as she discovered she was pregnant, she felt confident that her second baby should be her last. She shared this with me early in her prenatal care and, as such, signed her 'tubal papers' (a consent for permanent sterilization, which, by Medicaid rules must be signed at least 30 days before a woman's due date). Though she received her prenatal care at our health center, she was an employee of the local Catholic health system, and to avoid a large out of network co-pay, it made financial sense for her to give birth at the Catholic hospital. She was warned by several of her coworkers that the Catholic hospital "wouldn't let her" have a tubal ligation. They were, indeed, correct. She did not get her surgery.

The second is a 32-year-old patient pregnant with twins-- she has a four year old at home. Because of her twin pregnancy, after the second trimester, her care was transferred to a local obstetrician for care. The health insurance that she received through her work also limited the choice of hospitals in which she could deliver-- she, too, had strong financial incentive to deliver at the local Catholic hospital. She knew there was a moderately high likelihood she would have a cesarean section and asked the physician managing her care for a tubal ligation if that were to occur. The physician actively discouraged this, urging her to "wait until the boys are born to make sure they are okay." She was never educated about any Church policy that might be an impediment to getting the procedure. She did, indeed, have a cesarean section. She did not have her tubes tied.


Choice
I use the word choice a nauseating number of times per day with my three-year-old. The choice of  socks or no socks, bike or stroller, carrot or cucumber, book first or bath first. "You choose", I tell him. In so doing, I engage that age-old parental trick of controlling the number and quality of choices he has and simultaneously encouraging him to share the power in decision-making. It usually works.

http://marcellapurnama.com/why-we-are-afraid-to-make-a-choice/

The word choice carries both tremendous power and stigma in the world of health care. In fact, when I use health and choice in the same sentence, it's hard not to think immediately of the abortion-rights movement-- often referred to as the pro-choice movement-- which has worked tirelessly for the last fifty years advocating the rights of women to choose to terminate a pregnancy.

But there are a lot more choices in health care than those related to abortion.

"It's your choice," you'll hear me say a zillion times per day at clinic. Mammogram or no mammogram. One hour glucose test or two hour glucose test. Trial of anti-depressant or trial of therapy. Antibiotics or wait 24 hours. Pill-form or liquid form. Induction of labor or wait another week. Physical therapy or osteopathic manipulation. Fluoride supplement or fluoridated toothpaste. IUD or NuvaRing. "You choose."

While parental me is interested in maintaining supreme power over my preschooler, physician me aims to engage in a more mature version of shared decision-making with my patients. Here's my quadruple aim when guiding patients through medical decisions: 1) Educate them about their health condition, 2) Offer a range of effective management options 3) Share my own informed position on the issue at hand (i.e. what I think which are the most reasonable choices), and 4) Engage participation in deciding what best to do in their unique situation.

There are two reasons I believe in this way of interacting with my patients. First, there is hardly EVER one correct way to do things in medicine. And second, by engaging and empowering my patients, I am certain that I am helping them be healthier. I am giving them a sense of ownership over their health and their health care decisions. And I am offering them choice.

Sometimes this strategy fails miserably. I know I have fallen flat on my face when a patient looks up at me and says, "I don't know, doctor, just tell me what to do."  I sigh. And start again. And try to resist the urge to be a despot. (I save the despot role for after work when my son refuses to hold my hand crossing the street. Then dictator emerges in her full glory).

But most often (I think) my patients appreciate the process. After all, we are all senescent human beings with a particular understanding of what is happening in our own bodies, and when I am acting as a physician, I am not the end-all. I am an expert consultant. As I see it, my patients have come to me not necessarily for an unequivocal answer but for educated guidance. And, while I don't always know the answer, I can definitely guide!

http://www.lukechueh.com/paintings/black-in-white.html

Plus, there is too much grey in medicine to be that black and white.


It is within this construct of choice, that I sit down to write a short piece about the power of the Catholic health care system and women's access to tubal ligation (aka permanent sterilization, aka "getting one's tubes tied"). After all, choice is not just about a woman's right to choose to terminate a pregnancy-- thank goodness, in this beautiful smart savvy world in which we live, we have birth control!

Women can choose NOT to get pregnant in the first place. And these women can make that choice as a temporary one (e.g. choosing birth control pills or a Nexplanon) or as a permanent one (e.g. choosing tubal ligation for themselves or vasectomy for their partners).

Women need to be aware of their choices.

The Catholic health care system serves 1 in 6
The Catholic health care system serves one in six patients in the US. There are approximately 620 Catholic hospitals in the US, comprising 12.4% of all community hospitals, with a particularly heavy presence in rural areas In fact, one-third of these hospitals are located in rural areas-- important because they may be the only reasonable choice for patients, particularly those with transportation challenges.

Here in California, Dignity Health (formerly Catholic Healthcare West) is the second largest hospital system, following Kaiser. Sutter is number three. If you combine St. Joseph's Health (also Catholic), then Catholic hospitals serve the largest quantity of California patients at 11.6% of all patients. And where there are hospitals, there are affiliated clinics and practices, bound by the doctrine of the leadership of those hospitals.

I do not doubt that these hospitals and the people who work within their walls provide excellent care to patients. In fact, last year, I visited a very ill patient of mine at our local Catholic hospital many times and was consistently and thoroughly impressed by the upkeep of the facility, the skill and kindness of the staff, and the quality of care he received.

However, as an advocate for women having an empowered choice in how they control their fertility, there is are some obvious problems. As policy, Catholic hospitals are not permitted to permanently sterilize, and yet, most facilities don't openly share this policy with the very women who are asking for these services.

It is unspoken. And choices left unspoken are not choices at all.

The Ethical and Religious Directive (ERD)
Women utilizing a Catholic-affiliated health care system should know that national Catholic hospital policy directly prohibits tubal ligation.

There is a document produced by the Catholic Church (United States Conference of Catholic Bishops) called The Ethical and Religious Directive for Healthcare Services (ERD). The ERD has been around for over 60 years and has two aims: 1) "to reaffirm the ethical standards of behavior in health care that flow from the Church's teaching about the dignity of the human person" and 2) "to provide authoritative guidance and instruction on specific matters related to the provision of health care".

These Directives are for all people participating within a Catholic health care institution, from administrators to individual providers to patients.

The fifth edition of the ERD was published in 2009. There are 72 directives in the ERD, with topics ranging from birth control, to end of life care, to abortion. Within these directives, the ERD specifically prohibits contraception, direct sterilization, and abortion in Catholic health care facilities (ERD #45, 52, 53). ERD 52 states the following: Direct sterilization of either men or women, whether permanent or temporary, is not permitted in a Catholic health care institution". This includes situations in which future pregnancy might endanger the life or health of the mother.

According to church rules, health care facilities must adopt these directives as policy and require adherence to these as a condition for medical privileges and employment. Theoretically, hospitals could be closed and providers could be fired for providing these services. In fact, in one study 52% of obstetricians who practice in Catholic hospital environments complain of conflict over religious-based policies (see article here).


I am quite certain that most Catholic hospitals and those who work for these systems do not openly share these directives when patients request specific services. While the ERDs are readily available online, they are not advertised on our local Catholic hospital website. In fact, no mention of permanent sterilization (yea or nay), birth control, or the ERD can be found on their website.

Okay, so is it true that no tubal ligations happen in Catholic hospitals?
Definitely not true.

In fact, when I started considering this topic, one of my co-workers spoke up defensively, arguing that she didn't think there was a problem-- in fact, she had had a her tubes tied at the local Catholic hospital a few years back without any issues. After the birth of her second child, she had asked for a tubal, been counseled appropriately by her physician, and it had happened. No biggie.


In the course of my research, I came across a Catholic epidemiologist's dissertation titled "Appeal to Conscience Clauses in the Face of Divergent Practices among Catholic Hospitals" about permanent sterilization practices in 176 Catholic hospitals in 7 different states across the country. In this report (which you can find here), the author found that 48% of Catholic hospitals in the US actually did perform tubal ligation between the years 2006-2010, for a total of 20,073 direct sterilizations in violation of the ERD.

According to this data, in 2007, 2008, and 2009, a total of 92, 91, and 66 tubal ligations respectively happened at our local Catholic hospital.

Interesting.  While almost half of Catholic hospitals are not adhering to the ERD by performing at least some number of female sterilizations, the other half  are not offering sterilizations at all. It's impossible to know what drives the uneven penetration of this policy.  Is this because of a difference in interpretation of the text? A divergence in opinion of relevance? Financial incentives? Lack of official oversight? Activist providers? Rebellious administrators? Changing times?

And here's the big problem, as I see it: while this data confirms that some women being attended to in Catholic hospitals get sterilized, it doesn't address the question of how many tubal ligations requested and/or desired by patients did NOT happen.

There is no way of knowing exactly why these 249 women (including my co-worker) were permitted sterilization, while others (including my two patients mentioned at the start of this post) were not.

Is it that certain providers within the system directly disobey the directives? Is it that exceptions are made for specific women or groups of women? Is it an administrative decision? Is it different if a woman insists?

Is it okay for entire hospital systems, physicians, clinics to mislead their patients?
Studies show that 31-47% of women requesting a postpartum sterilization don't get one. One study reported that 47% of women who requested but did not get tubal ligation in the postpartum period became pregnant in the first year after giving birth (this compared to 22% of women who didn't request sterilization). Almost half! This reinforces the notion that these women are at particularly high risk for unplanned pregnancy.

Maddening.

There is almost nothing more frustrating to me as a women's health provider than a completely preventable unintended pregnancy! And, along the same vein, I cannot understand why the Catholic Church prefers to promote systems that increase the likelihood of a woman choosing abortion.

As a product of eight years of Catholic education, I am well aware that the Catholic Church maintains a plethora of policies with which I don't agree. And, please note, I am not arguing that Catholic hospitals should do tubal ligations. It's simply that they need to be honest; their patients need to know when effective family planning options are intentionally not being offered and/or when a request for one is diverted because of hospital policy rather than because of a patient's best interest.

I want my patients to know their full range of options, to be educated about where and how to obtain those options, and to have the opportunity to make smart, empowered decisions that positively influence their health and the health of their families.

What I am advocating for is transparency.

And choice.

And, please, fellow providers, if you are practicing in a system that has tied your hands, be honest with your patients and offer them exactly what you would want to be offered yourself: the opportunity to be their own decision-makers.


Additional Resources
http://www.thecatholicthing.org/columns/2012/sterilization-at-catholic-hospitals.html
https://www.osv.com/OSVNewsweekly/Article/TabId/535/ArtMID/13567/ArticleID/4274/Health-systems-involved-in-the-report.aspx
http://www.usccb.org/issues-and-action/human-life-and-dignity/health-care/upload/Ethical-Religious-Directives-Catholic-Health-Care-Services-fifth-edition-2009.pdf

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22609017
http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/wp/2013/12/02/catholic-hospitals-are-growing-what-will-that-mean-for-reproductive-health/
http://www.catholichospitals.org/#Introduction
http://www.chcf.org/publications/2013/01/california-hospitals
http://www.americancatholic.org/Newsletters/CU/preview.aspx?id=240
http://wws.princeton.edu/news-and-events/news/item/medicaids-tube-tying-policies-roadblock
https://www.regonline.com/custImages/310000/316099/Forum2012%20Mon%20pres/06_RevisitingMedicalTubalSterilizationPolicy.pdf

What in the world is LARC?

Imagine you need new tires for your car. You go to your local tire store, and the guy behind the counter offers you decent tires that will last exactly a month (you are welcome to return next month to get new ones) versus perfectly equivalent tires that will last five years. Same cost for either offer. Which would you choose? Now let’s say the offer was the same cost but the five-year tires are way safer and definitely of higher quality. Does that change your decision?

What if you were offered a 28-day filling for your cavity?

A four-week pair of eyeglasses?

A monthly bra? (imagine that, monthly Victoria Secret fittings...)

Would you really want to go back every month to pick up a new something only to go back again the next month for the same thing?  Well, this is what plenty of women of childbearing age do every month for their birth control--whether it’s pills or a patch or a ring (ehem, is this you?)

Why do we make us do this?  (And, when I say ‘we’, I mean ‘we healthcare providers’ and when I say ‘us’, I mean reproductive-age women).  Deep breath here, because if I am not careful, I will launch into a prolific diatribe about gendered power and the reign of masculine decision-making and will hold my own self back from raging about  how so many health insurers only permit women to pick up one birth control pill pack (i.e. one month) at a time and how if men could get pregnant, contraception would be so over the counter. . .and you might be stuck here for awhile.

Instead, I will keep it simple.  The number one hands-down most important question a woman of childbearing age who is actually having any amount of sex should ask herself when considering contraception is this:

When do I want to have a baby? If the answer is anywhere near any of the following:

"maybe five or ten years from now"
"never"

"not in the foreseeable future"

“I just had a baby last month, are you serious, doctor?”
"at least a year from now"

"when pigs fly"

"baby?! I don’t want a baby, but yes, I'm having sex!”

"hmm, definitely not this year, but maybe when I finish school”

"once I get married, though not sure when that’ll happen because I haven’t had a date in months”

“I’m only 16, why are you asking me?”

Then my question to you is“What are you doing messing around with birth control pills, girl?’
Followed by the less sexy question, Why aren't you using Long Acting Reversible Contraception (aka LARC)?

LARC in doctor-speak usually refers to two or three types of long acting contraception that don’t depend on your humanness to ensure effectiveness. These are 1) Intrauterine devices (IUDs), 2) implants (Implanon and/or Nexplanon), and 3) some people include injections in this category.  These are all varieties of contraception that your healthcare provider (your family doctor, gynecologist, midwife or nurse practitioner) inserts/injects in you and then you don’t have to think about for at least 3 months. . .but even better, 3 or 5 or even 10 years. Yes, three or five or TEN years.

At last count, only 8.5% of US women were using LARC for contraception.  From my perspective, I see two reasons women don’t opt for LARC:

1)  Women don’t know enough about LARC. (If you’re interested, you can find a pretty good, though at times a bit slow, short video from England here)

2) For some reason, women are more scared of LARC than they are of unintended pregnancy.

Seriously, ladies, let's educate ourselves, be realistic about our risks, and make the best decisions for ourselves possible. Carrying and delivering a baby are two of the riskiest things we will do with our beautiful bodies. Getting an IUD or an implant don't even compare.

In the US, there are currently two great IUD options: the Mirena ( LNg20, licensed for 5 years) and the Paragard (TCu380A or "Copper T", licensed for 10 years). Many people (including providers) still believe that you have to be a certain age or have had a certain number of children or even be in a uniquely monogamous relationship to use LARC, and this just isn’t true anymore.

Imagine a world where you don’t have to think about contraception for years at at time? That world is the here and now.

So, I’ll ask you again: “What are you doing messing around with birth control pills, girl?’

Get off the line with your pharmacy to request a refill and call your healthcare provider, tell him/her you want a LARC. Go to http://www.reproductiveaccess.org  for some more excellent information including risks/benefits,  costs. Also here is the website for a really cool study showing how dramatically LARC prevents unintended pregnancy, http://www.choiceproject.wustl.edu. More interesting data on contracepting here: http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/series/sr_23/sr23_029.pdf.

Oh, and stay off the internet looking for horror stories. Yes, LARC methods are not perfect (nothing is), but they are definitely less painful, less risky, and less drama  than childbirth!

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Other great reference

http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/journals/j.fertnstert.2012.06.027.pdf