Do You See Me?: A Candid Message from a Pharmacist to a Physician

Listen to ASCO's Journal of Clinical Oncology essay, "Do You See Me?," by Dr. Kristen McCullough, a Hematology Clinical Pharmacy Specialist at Mayo Clinic. The essay is followed by an interview with McCullough and host Dr. Lidia Schapira. McCullough shares a pharmacist's perspective on experiencing a patient loss.

TRANSCRIPT

"Ope!" is the common Minnesotan exclamation when you bump into someone you did not see. As a pharmacist working in ambulatory care, I am more apt to hear it than most. I am a convenient presence in clinic life, available when needed, but I was trained to be as unobtrusive as the beige and bespeckled wallpaper that shrouds the hallway. After a decade, many still struggle to get my name correct. I hear a muttered thanks occasionally, but I know minds are fixated on the next patient, research question, grant deadline, or difficult conversation.

I try to be accessible when you need me, from the minutiae of learning to order ondansetron as a new fellow to managing catastrophic relapses with multiorgan failure as a seasoned physician giving salvage chemotherapy. On nights, weekends, holidays, or when we are separated by a dozen time zones, I am here. We have navigated the uncomfortable waters of chemotherapy in hemodialysis, written clinical trials, obtained medication on compassionate use, and fought with insurance companies. I bear the brunt of your frustration when the electronic medical record feels cumbersome and ordering chemotherapy is just not like it used to be. Do you remember asking me to "just fix the system" in sheer exasperation but high-fiving me a few weeks later when you entered a chemotherapy plan without my assistance or corrections? I know that needing my help feels inefficient, impractical, and almost like a failure. You wish it was an easier, simpler, and more self-reliant system.

But there are many times when you do not need me. When things go well and the bone marrow shows a complete response, the BCR::ABL1 is undetectable, or the positron emission tomography scan is clear. I am absent in those often fleetingly beautiful moments when you say "The cancer is in remission!" and you joyfully dismiss your patient. Did you forget that I had planned a visit? It is the desk staff who graciously tell me that my visit was presumably canceled. The patient has already left for the day. I am overjoyed for them, but it is bittersweet to be forgotten.

Do you remember that gray and rainy afternoon in late October? I was in my office after your visit was done that difficult day. You left the examination room after an emotional and raw conversation about resuming therapy and asked for my help. You imparted the bad news and plan, but it was my job to carry out your instructions. I held their hand, sat with them through mutual tears, and paused many times for collective digestion of the information. I explained the differences between their last round of treatment and the new plan. I talked about topics that are difficult and uncomfortable: financial consequences, physical appearance changes, every side effect from hair loss to sepsis, and the need to stay in town and miss thanksgiving at home. It was well after 6 o'clock when I escorted them to admissions and we parted ways. The lights in our department were dim, and everyone was gone. You needed me. They needed me.

Together, as a pharmacist and a physician, we spent weeks managing side effects for our patient, from nausea and vomiting to blood stream infections and transfusion dependence. I fought with insurance for drug approval, spent many weary hours in front of a fax machine obtaining charitable grants to cover copays, and plead with companies for patient assistance and free medication. We hopped from regimen to regimen, enrolled on clinical trials, and entertained the thought of compassionate use when precision medicine testing yielded a potential target. Weeks turned into months, and months turned into exhaustion. Despite all the awful things happening, our patient snuck treats into appointments and sent portal messages of their bucket list adventures, even if they became increasingly more home centric. Bad days started to outweigh the good as time marched forward.

I was the first person to murmur the words comfort care as a potential next step just before we walked into the next visit. As a physician, you were angry at me for putting these words

out into the universe and called me naïve. I do not think you intended to be hurtful, but I am reminded of my place. It was just shy of 3 weeks later before you and the patient made that mutual decision when chemotherapy was no longer an option, and visits with me ceased. My services were no longer viewed as necessary. I did not get to see our patient again, except for a couple of In Basket messages.

I first read about their passing through an electronic medical record alert that I am entering a deceased patient's chart while data collecting for a project. Their photo is now gray, and their demographics are a stark red. The chart feels hauntingly cold. The obituary was filled with healthy pictures and beautiful memories. Did you read it too? I missed the memorial service because no one told me.

I closed the obituary and took the back roads home from work. It was a beautiful June day, and the sunshine felt warm and welcoming through my open windows. I wanted our patient to feel remembered, even if my remembrance was not particularly meaningful. Over the next few weeks, I embraced all the things we talked about in our visits. I listened to Earth, Wind, & Fire, their favorite band. I went to the driving range and exploded with laughter at my atrocious hooks and slices. I visited the local ice cream shop and indulged in mint chocolate chip ice cream that melted down my hand from a gigantic waffle cone. I sat on the dock and watched the sunset from the best vacation spot in the Midwest: a Minnesota lake.

A year later, I smile when my playlist cycles through their favorite song, but the weariness of this rhythm grows heavier. As a physician, I hope you will see this side of my practice and the human being in this story, someone who meets patients where they are and agonizes alongside you at the loss of human life; someone who is crushed by the same weight of bureaucracy, red tape, archaic rules, and biases; someone who fights against the archetype that a pharmacist should be seen and not heard; and someone who will relentlessly remind you that pharmacists are brighter than an insurance claim or copay frustration. I hope someday you see the person connected to the In Basket, e-mail, pager, or phone as a team member and not a referee. I hope one day you simply see me, utterly human and some days utterly broken.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: Hello and welcome to JCO's Cancer Stories: The Art of Oncology, which features essays and personal reflections from authors exploring their experience in the field of oncology. I'm your host, Dr. Lidia Schapira, Associate Editor for Art of Oncology and a Professor of Medicine at Stanford University.

Today we're joined by Dr. Kristen McCullough, a Hematology Clinical Pharmacy Specialist at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. In this episode, we will be discussing her Art of Oncology article, "Do You See Me?"

At the time of this recording, our guest has no disclosures.

Kristen, welcome to our podcast and thank you for joining us.

Dr. Kristen McCullough: Thank you for having me.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: It is our pleasure. I like to start these conversations by asking authors to tell us a little bit about their reading preferences. Do you have a book you'd like to recommend or something you're currently reading that's captivating your attention?

Dr. Kristen McCullough: I just started a book called The Measure, which I think so far is excellent. It's about everybody in the world that is an adult receiving a box, and in the box is a string purported to be a measure of the length of your life and whether people choose to open the box or not open the box and what you do with that information. I think that is so closely tied to what we try to do in our day-to-day jobs, which is kind of this foretelling, future telling, and whether or not people want that information or don't want that information and what you do with it. So far, excellent, incredible read. Looking forward to kind of seeing how it unfolds. So that's what I'm reading if you can call that fun, a fun standpoint.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: Oh, I hope it is fun.

Dr. Kristen McCullough: A fun standpoint. I did just finish a Masters in Pharmacy, Business and Administration so I did a big chunk of reading that was more business-y and that was more focused on leadership and culture and that kind of thing.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: How fascinating. Well, the book sounds very interesting. So it's an interesting segue to your essay. What made you write and then submit your work to be read by Oncologists? In other words, the sentiment is very clear and we'll talk about the message. But what was the process that you used that led you to want to share this work through Art of Oncology?

Dr. Kristen McCullough: I've written for a very long time, much of it personal. Obviously, this job is very personal. It's hard not to be. And so I write for myself as a form of processing and I wrote this particular piece a while back simply as a means to help myself understand where my frustrations and sort of my difficulties with this job come from. And not that it's bad difficult, but it's just ongoing how do you get through some of the things that everybody deals with?

The more that I read through it, it was a piece that I went back to time and again because the feelings continued to surface in a variety of different ways. I thought, am I the only person that feels this way? I discussed the sentiments, but not the article in specific with a couple of colleagues in pharmacy and they said, "Gosh, I feel this sentiment, who are we in the care team and where do we fall and what's our place?" And I felt like it was an important time to share that as our field grows, as our capacity on a care team grows, to make sure that people understand who we are and what we can provide and that we are important to patients in a variety of capacities.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: Well, you sure are. You're indispensable. So thinking about this, I totally appreciate the sentiment that pharmacists are very important members of the multidisciplinary and interdisciplinary cancer team. But what you, I think, showcase in this article is that sometimes as individuals, they may remain invisible or not as visible as they ought to be. So what I heard in this article, and please feel free to correct me, but this is my interpretation as a reader is this is sort of a letter of sorts to the oncologist, the trainee, the attending physician, the clinical investigator who partner with you in clinical care. And what you're saying is look at the emotional labor of our work and we are often not recognized and not brought into the team in the way that we ought to be. Did I get that right?

Dr. Kristen McCullough: Yes. I think we are being brought into the fold more and I want to do service to the people that I work with. I mean, that change has happened very gradually. I've been with a very dedicated group in the past 10 years and that is improving and growing. You certainly have to demonstrate your capacity to provide services and be available. But sometimes the greater sentiment when we try to remember who a care team is, we're very good at saying that our care team is physicians and advanced practice providers and nurses. And it just doesn't seem to sift down to saying and pharmacists. And I don't think- it's never a conscious exclusion. It just doesn't seem to quite get there. And sometimes that can be hurtful when it's heard again and again and again.

And I want people to remember that we make these tremendous connections with patients repeatedly. They are emotionally connected to us just as much as we are to them. And so when I lose patients, I feel that too, and I want to share that with my providers. I want to say, "Gosh, do you remember these incredible experiences we had and how funny this was? And do you remember their kids and their grandkids and the things that they brought to the table?" Because I was just as impacted by those experiences as I think that they were.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: You also talk about the specific expertise that you bring. What struck me, for instance, was saying,"We gave chemo through hemodialysis together, the advocacy part. We're the ones left looking for the authorization or helping people with payment." And then you talk about the human connection of, "We are the ones who are left explaining what the treatment actually will look like, what the side effects may be of that particular treatment." All of which is incredibly important for the practice of oncology both in a community or an academic setting.

And then you actually take us on. A bit more of a personal journey of what it felt like for you to learn that a patient had passed and how you found a way to honor that connection that you had and remember this patient. Can you tell us a little bit more about what that was like for you, this journey that you took with this particular patient, listening to the music they liked and eating an ice cream for them while you're watching the sunset on the lake?

Dr. Kristen McCullough: Most importantly is I can read everything that happens to a patient in a hospital. I mean, we know every time they eat and sleep and sneeze. And so the more important part to me is if I'm going to send you home, particularly because our therapies are now far more outpatient based, is what are you doing at home that's good? And what are you not doing? What are you not participating in that you wish you could participate in? Because that's more telling to me of what my therapy is causing that's preventing you from participating or that you aren't doing because we told you that you couldn't. If my therapy causes some sensitivity and you hear that and you think, I can't go outside and how do I fix that? Because I want to make sure you go to grandkids' baseball games and how do we accommodate those things?

And so I try to listen for that, and what I get out of that is the human side of my patient, what pieces are important to them. And that's where you hear those things. What's your favorite music? What concerts are you going to go to? What are you looking forward to? If you could eat anything, what would you want to eat? What would make you feel better? How do I make that happen? If you could feel well enough to do anything, what's the most important thing for you to do? And I think that's what I remember most about patients is they wish they could get back on their motorcycle. They wish they could go fishing off the dock, they can't taste their favorite ice cream anymore, those kinds of things.

And so that's what I remember. And I don't have a great way to memorialize patients. I can't go to funerals across the country. I mean, I can write cards and call families if it's appropriate, but I need a sense of closure in some of these instances. And so the best way for me to do that is to try and remember them through an activity that I think would make them chuckle, make them laugh, be like, "Oh, I knew she'd never get on a motorcycle. I knew she would never listen to that song from the 70s", something like that. And so that's what I did for this particular patient, was think about the things that they did. And we laughed about try and process through that particular sentiment because it was just the only way I really knew how to when I wasn't part of the process for the rest of the team. When the death note comes through, and the nurse knows and the event practice providers know and the providers knows and the providers call the patient's family and they send a card and I just didn't know. So I had to kind of process in my own way and laugh.

I mean I'm a terrible golfer, horrible. I went with my husband and I can't hit a golf ball to save my life, and hooks and slices, and it was terrible and I laughed. It was good to laugh. It was good to imagine my patient thinking, "Oh, my goodness. She's just atrocious."

Dr. Lidia Schapira: So I think this is the first time in the 20 plus years of Art of Oncology that we've presented a pharmacist, a clinical pharmacist point of view, and I'm so appreciative of that. We've been getting more and more stories from other members of the team who also felt somehow they weren't sufficiently recognized. And I wonder if you could tell our listeners a little bit about how you imagine that the care should be implemented to perhaps include clinical pharmacists in some of these activities that you say are sort of routinized by care teams but may actually leave important members out.

Dr. Kristen McCullough: I think the hardest part for me is when patients are making a transition to comfort care or to hospice. Include your pharmacist as part of that because we either have connections in hospice care - I've got colleagues in hospice care - or at least let me help the patient make that move as well. Can I help pull off medications that they don't necessarily need to be on so they're not at home on statins and all sorts of other medications that they don't need? Can we help have that conversation to make it easier? Even if I'm not part of that, then at least let me know that the patient has made a transition because I think other care team members are aware. And if there's support that I can provide in that, I'm really happy to do that. And then if the patient passes away, it would be nice to know and be part of that information piece as well if that's possible.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: You bring up some very valuable points that I think could benefit care and could certainly strengthen the team approach to patient care that is sort of increasingly being adopted in cancer care. One is that you have knowledge that could help patients across these transitions of care, and two is that your input doesn't end when active disease modifying therapies stop. You still have a lot to bring. And then it's the personal part of really feeling that you're integrated into the care team. And I think perhaps wearing your new MBA leader, you can introduce some changes in your system and then kind of lead the rest of the country in thinking about how to restructure the role of the pharmacist and the care team.

Dr. Kristen McCullough: We can dream big, right?

Dr. Lidia Schapira: That's what this is about.

Dr. Kristen McCullough: Gosh, that would be ideal. And there was a really nice article in the Journal of Oncology Pharmacy Practice that talked about the state of pharmacy care across the country in oncology pharmacy. And I think we have pharmacists in a lot of incredible places, whether it's clinics, infusion centers, specialty care, inpatient, but we're short and we've got a long way to go. So any advocacy that we have from cancer centers and providers to help us and to recognize the value add, it will be incredibly beneficial because we can't advocate alone. We need support.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: I know that there are lots of people who are reimagining cancer care and thinking about how technologies are going to also help us in the future. So I hope some of them are listening to this. I have one final question about this, and that is that from everything you're saying, pharmacists have a real connection with patients and provide advice and so on. What kind of communication skills training do pharmacists receive these days?

Dr. Kristen McCullough: So you're asking somebody who went to pharmacy school a very long time ago.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: You look very young to me.

Dr. Kristen McCullough: It's been a hot minute. They do have rotations, specifically a year of rotations after they've completed their didactics, where they have to orient in a variety of care settings, so whether that's inpatient or outpatient, retail, hospital, etc., where they're introduced to the patient experience. Where they have to learn to interview patients and complete medication reconciliation, and learn to ask good questions and elicit good information. But I think a majority of pharmacists that most people and I don't want to be all encompassing here, but that most clinicians are seeing in outpatient settings and even in hospitals are working with have gone through a residency program. And residency programs are optional. They're a couple of years after you finish pharmacy school. That is where you kind of get a lot of really core experiences in specialty care that give you that experience working directly with patients. It gives you research experience, a lot of more academic if that's what the pharmacist is interested in.

But truthfully, and I will be honest here, we don't get a lot of good experience in how to manage death and dying. That comes from working with clinicians. And some of the very best learning experiences I have ever had have come with the clinicians I've worked with. The things that they've taught me in terms of conversations and listening have come from the people that I work with and I will treasure those experiences for a lifetime.

So, include pharmacists. Help us learn to be part of those so that we can help you have those conversations because patients talk to us about those things long after you've left the room and we need help learning how to do that and we learn best from you.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: Thank you so much, Kristen. I think this has been a lovely conversation, certainly inspiring. And again, I think that there are so many opportunities to take your message forward. So thank you very much for the work that you do, for your thoughtfulness and for this lovely reminder or perhaps lesson for clinical oncologists.

Is there anything else that you'd like to tell our listeners today?

Dr. Kristen McCullough: I'm grateful for the opportunity to have this conversation and like I said, for the people that I've learned from over the years, it's been a tremendous experience and I'm looking forward to the continued endeavors to grow in this particular area.

Dr. Lidia Schapira: And we will be watching.

Until next time. Thank you for listening to JCO's Cancer Stories: The Art of Oncology. Don't forget to give us a rating or review and be sure to subscribe so you never miss an episode. You can find all of ASCO shows at asco.org/podcasts.

The purpose of this podcast is to educate and to inform. This is not a substitute for professional medical care and is not intended for use in the diagnosis or treatment of individual conditions.

Guests on this podcast express their own opinions, experience and conclusions. Guest statements on the podcast do not express the opinions of ASCO. The mention of any product, service, organization, activity or therapy should not be construed as an ASCO endorsement.

Show Notes

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Guest Bio:

Dr. Kristen McCullough is a Hematology Clinical Pharmacy Specialist at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.