A rare double-face palm, so you can’t see the tears
I run across a lot of information in my feeds that I need to save for further evaluation. The study “Does additional antimicrobial treatment have a better effect on URTI cough resolution than homeopathic symptomatic therapy alone? A real-life preliminary observational study in a pediatric population“, I saved with the file name, ‘jaw droppingly stupid’.
The worst homeopathy clinical trial ever doesn’t spring full formed like Athena from the head of Zeus. No. The worst homeopathy clinical trial ever started with a seed. The seed is “Homeopathic medicine for acute cough in upper respiratory tract infections and acute bronchitis: A randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled trial, which is a standard lousy homeopathic study. (more…)
We spend a lot time at SBM discussing different elements of the art and science of medicine, and how we believe that practice can be improve. Yet our science-based intentions can be thwarted at the last possible moment – in the form of dosing errors. The workup may have been comprehensive, the diagnosis could be correct, the most clinically and cost-effective intervention chosen, and whammo. An overdose or underdose, possible toxicity, and a failure to achieve the desired outcome. It’s a completely avoidable, but often overlooked aspect of the practice of medicine.
In my last post, I noted how cough and cold products for children have largely been withdrawn from the market due to their lack of efficacy, and the risks related to toxicity. Today’s post is going to dive a little more deeply into factors that can contribute to toxicity in the pediatric population. Let’s start with a vignette that may be familiar to parents:
The new father is wakened from a blissful, deep sleep by a crying child. Once Dad realizes when and where he is, and the source of the crying, he silently curses the short duration of action of the acetaminophen liquid he gave his child at bedtime. It has probably worn off already, and the fever is back. Stumbling into his child’s room in the dark, he can feel the heat radiating off his body. He fumbles around for the Tylenol, and something to measure it with. He can’t find the dropper bottle, but finds a bottle of syrup. It’s hard to measure the dose in the dark, and the medicine cup he finds is hard to read. “I think the dose is a teaspoon..that’s 5mL”. He pours the medicine into his child’s throat, tucks him back into bed, and both are back asleep within minutes.
One of my earliest lessons as a pharmacist working in the “real world” was that customers didn’t always act the way I expected. Parents of sick children frequently fell into this category — and the typical vignette went like this for me:
- Parent has determined that their child is sick, and needs some sort of over-the-counter medicine.
- Parent asks pharmacist for advice selecting a product from the dozens on the shelves.
- Pharmacist uses the opportunity to provide science-based advice, and assures parent that no drug therapy is necessary.
- Parent directly questions the validity of this advice, and may ask about the merits of a specific product they have already identified.
- Pharmacist explains efficacy and risk of the product, and provides general non-drug symptom management suggestions.
- Parent thanks pharmacist, selects product despite advice, and walks to the front of the store to pay.
In many ways, a pharmacy purchase mirrors the patient-physician interaction that ends with a prescription being written — it’s what feels like the logical end to the consultation, and without it, feels incomplete. It’s something that I’m observing more and more frequently when advising parents about cough and cold products for children.