Issues
Volume 213 Issue 2
Perspectives
COVID‐19 acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS): clinical features and differences from typical pre‐COVID‐19 ARDS
COVID‐19 ARDS is a predictable serious complication of COVID‐19 that requires early recognition and comprehensive management “This disease is still too strange to us, and there are too many doubts”, says Dr Ling Qin (LQ), after reviewing more than 400 patients with coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID‐19) pneumonia in Wuhan Union Hospital, China. COVID‐19 is a novel disease. We are familiar with acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS); however, when it occurs as part of COVID‐19, it has different features and there remain unanswered questions. So if someone has COVID‐19 ARDS, how does it compare and contrast with ARDS from other causes? To answer this question we provide a summary of the published literature (based on a PubMed search using the terms “COVID‐19” and “ARDS”, 17 April 2020) and current clinical experience from managing patients with COVID‐19 ARDS in Singapore (SHP) and Wuhan (LQ). Severe COVID‐19 represents viral pneumonia from severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS‐CoV‐2) infection leading to ARDS. Its manifestations can be viewed as a combination of the two processes, namely viral pneumonia and ARDS. COVID‐19 is a novel disease recognised initially in Wuhan, China, in December 2019, and is now pandemic. It is likely caused by zoonotic spillover of a β‐coronavirus type 2b that is now transmitted between humans. Along with the other serious coronavirus infections of severe acute respiratory syndrome and Middle East respiratory syndrome, which also cause ARDS, COVID‐19 represents an ongoing global threat as this virus family has the potential to mutate and infect non‐immune populations. Australia's living guidelines provide the latest recommendations and evidence.1 Diagnosis SARS‐CoV‐2 infection can be confirmed by positive detection of viral RNA in nasopharyngeal secretions using a specific PCR test. COVID‐19 illness can be confirmed by a consistent clinical history, epidemiological contact, and a positive SARS‐CoV‐2 test. COVID‐19 ARDS is diagnosed when someone with confirmed COVID‐19 infection meets the Berlin 2012 ARDS diagnostic criteria2 of (i) acute hypoxaemic respiratory failure; (ii) presentation within 1 week of worsening respiratory symptoms; (iii) bilateral airspace disease on chest x‐ray, computed tomography (CT) or ultrasound that is not fully explained by effusions, lobar or lung collapse, or nodules; and (iv) cardiac failure is not the primary cause of acute hypoxaemic respiratory failure. ARDS is underdiagnosed in intensive care settings.3 ARDS develops in 42% of patients presenting with COVID‐19 pneumonia, and 61–81% of those requiring intensive care.4 COVID‐19 ARDS follows a predictable time course over days, with median time to intubation of 8.5 days after symptom onset in Singaporean patients.5 This is similar to previous reports where ARDS developed at day 8 or 9 after symptom onset. It is therefore important to monitor patients for the development of ARDS as their COVID‐19 infection progresses. Respiratory rate and SpO2 are two important parameters for judging patients’ clinical condition and allowing early recognition of ARDS. A patient who fits any one of the following conditions may have severe disease and require further evaluation: respiratory rate ≥ 30 breaths/min; SpO2 ≤ 92%; and PaO2/FiO2 ≤ 300 mmHg. Blood tests can also be helpful. In Singapore, it was noted that raised C‐reactive protein levels and blood neutrophil counts along with lymphopenia were more common in patients requiring invasive mechanical ventilation for COVID‐19 ARDS.5 Lung pathology ARDS causes diffuse alveolar damage in the lung. There is hyaline membrane formation in the alveoli in the acute stage, and this is followed by interstitial widening and by oedema and then fibroblast proliferation in the organising stage. COVID‐19 ARDS causes the typical ARDS pathological changes of diffuse alveolar damage in the lung.6,7 As patients move through the course of their illness, the longer term outcomes of ARDS are being reported, with lung fibrosis appearing as part of COVID‐19 ARDS.8,9 A study reported that 17% of patients had fibrous stripes in chest CT scans,9 and considered that the fibrous lesions may form during the healing of pulmonary chronic inflammation or proliferative diseases, with gradual replacement of cellular components by scar tissues. Thrombosis Pulmonary thrombosis is common in sepsis‐induced ARDS. Coagulation dysfunction appears to be common in COVID‐19, and is detected by elevated D‐dimer levels. In fatal cases there is diffuse microvascular thrombosis, suggesting a thrombotic microangiopathy, and most deaths from COVID‐19 ARDS have evidence of thrombotic disseminated intravascular coagulation.10 This may explain some of the atypical or unexpected manifestations seen in the lung, such as dilated pulmonary vessels on chest CT, and episodes of pleuritic pain. Vascular enlargement is rarely reported in typical ARDS, yet was seen in most cases of COVID‐19 ARDS.9 Mortality COVID‐19 ARDS appears to have worse outcomes than ARDS from other causes. The intensive care unit and hospital mortality from typical ARDS are 35.3% (95% CI, 33.3–37.2%) and 40.0% (95% CI, 38.1–42.1%), respectively.3 For COVID‐19 ARDS, mortality ranged between 26% and 61.5% if ever admitted into a critical care setting, and in patients who received mechanical ventilation, the mortality can range between 65.7% to 94%.4 Risk factors for poor outcomes include older age; presence of comorbidities such as hypertension, cardiovascular disease and diabetes mellitus; lower lymphocyte counts; kidney injury; and raised D‐dimer levels. Death from COVID‐19 ARDS is due to respiratory failure (53%), respiratory failure combined with cardiac failure (33%), myocardial damage and circulatory failure (7%), or death from an unknown cause.4 Radiology The radiology of ARDS is distinctive, yet COVID‐19 pneumonia appears to have unique features. This likely results from the co‐occurrence of viral pneumonia and ARDS, and allows radiologists to be fairly specific in diagnosing COVID‐19 pneumonia. The most discriminating features for COVID‐19 pneumonia in China compared with viral pneumonia in the United States included a peripheral distribution of opacification (80% v 57%; P < 0.001), frosted glass opacities (91% v 68%; P < 0.001), and vascular thickening or enlargement (58% v 22%; P < 0.001).11 These imaging features appear to be typical for COVID‐19 pneumonia and can be helpful in early screening of highly suspected cases and in evaluation of the severity and extent of disease. As COVID‐19 lung disease progresses, the lesions are more likely to be bilateral, lower lung predominant and multifocal. They often have the appearance of rounded opacities, termed “COVID balls”. With the development of ARDS, the extent of lung involvement increases, and there is a consolidative component.12 The opacities resolve with recovery from COVID‐19;13 however, with ARDS, the lesions increase in their extent and density, and evolve to fibrotic bands. Ventilation The strategy of breathing support is very important in treating COVID‐19 ARDS, as is the case with typical ARDS caused by other pathogens.14 The key elements are: use oxygen by nasal cannulae to achieve SpO2 > 92%; use of high flow nasal oxygen is controversial and highly dependent on the treatment location; avoid non‐invasive ventilation; prone ventilation appears to be beneficial; and consider extracorporeal membrane oxygenation for rescue. Because of concerns about viral transmission to other patients and health care workers,15 the use of high flow nasal oxygen and non‐invasive ventilation (such as bi‐level positive pressure ventilation) for COVID‐19 ARDS is highly dependent on the health care setting. Australian COVID‐19 guidelines1 strongly recommend against the use of high flow nasal oxygen in emergency departments, but provide a strong recommendation for its use in negative pressure single rooms. Non‐invasive ventilation may be used in negative pressure rooms with appropriate viral transmission precautions.1 Clinical experience has found inconsistent benefit from non‐invasive ventilation and there is concern about aerosol generation and increased risk of viral transmission. Prone ventilation appears to be beneficial for COVID‐19 ARDS.1 Placing a person in prone position promotes more homogenous aeration of the lung in ARDS and can improve oxygenation. While prone ventilation is used in only about 16% of patients with typical ARDS,3,16 in COVID‐19 it is being used successfully earlier in the course of ARDS, and suggested use is for > 12 hours per day.16 Venovenous extracorporeal membrane oxygenation can be used as rescue for mechanically ventilated adults with COVID‐19 and hypoxaemia that persists despite optimised ventilation, use of rescue therapies and prone ventilation. Among critically ill patients treated in Wuhan, prone ventilation and extracorporeal membrane oxygenation treatment were not found to be as effective as for ARDS caused by other pathogens. Possible reasons include: COVID‐19 pneumonia was still progressing and was not under control; lung lesions were not completely gravity‐dependent under ultrasound, so the effect of the prone position was limited; the patient's immune status was not restored, and a secondary hospital‐acquired infection worsened the condition; and when case numbers are high from the epidemic, the management mode and human resource arrangement of the isolation wards still need to be discussed and strengthened. Anecdotal observations in Singapore (SHP) and investigations in the Netherlands17 suggested that patients ventilated for COVID‐19 ARDS tended to have plateau pressures < 30 cmH20 and driving pressures < 15 cmH20 despite high oxygen requirements. The lung protective ventilation strategy used in typical ARDS involves a low tidal volume (6 mL/kg) and higher positive end expiratory pressure targets. For COVID‐19 ARDS, a change to more generous tidal volume targets allowing up to 8 mL/kg and lower positive end expiratory pressure levels is suggested to prevent patient self‐inflicted lung injury. Adjunct treatment In typical ARDS, continuous neuromuscular blocking agents, high dose corticosteroids and recruitment manoeuvers were the most frequently used adjunctive therapies. In COVID‐19 ARDS, the evidence for systemic steroids is still scarce and they are only recommended in patients with concomitant shock which has been unresponsive to vasopressors. There are concerns that steroids may increase viral shedding and possibly lead to a higher mortality rate. Antiviral therapy Many patients with COVID‐19 receive antiviral or immunosuppressive therapy. In Australia, the National COVID‐19 Clinical Evidence Taskforce1 recommends administering antiviral medications or other disease‐modifying treatments in the context of clinical trials. Singapore was using empiric lopinavir–ritonavir plus subcutaneous interferon‐β 1b initially, but is now randomising patients to receive remdesivir. In Wuhan, a broad range of antiviral and immune therapies are being used. All patients also received treatment with Chinese medicine. COVID‐19 ARDS is a predictable serious complication of COVID‐19 that requires early recognition and comprehensive management. Research programs such as the Medical Research Future Fund 2020 Respiratory Medicine Clinical Trials Research on COVID‐19 grant opportunity are required to answer the important questions that remain about therapies for COVID‐19 ARDS.
Peter G Gibson · Ling Qin · Ser Hon Puah
Challenges of diabetes management during the COVID‐19 pandemic
How to deal with diabetes and COVID‐19 — do we just dial in? The emergence of severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), and the subsequent announcement by the World Health Organization of a global pandemic, has altered health care across the public and private sectors. Clearly, coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID‐19) is having a huge impact on general practitioners, emergency physicians, respiratory physicians, intensivists and related staff, and is also impacting the day‐to‐day delivery of chronic health care. Conditions such as type 1 and type 2 diabetes require regular, usually face‐to‐face contact with GPs, endocrinologists, diabetes educators, dieticians and podiatrists to optimise glycaemic control. However, with recommendations regarding social isolation to minimise spread of COVID‐19,1 the delivery of such health care is increasingly being delivered using telehealth. This has been greatly facilitated in Australia with the announcement of temporary Medical Benefits Schedule telehealth (videoconference and telephone) item numbers during the COVID‐19 pandemic.2 The eligibility criteria for bulk‐billing include individuals who are immunosuppressed or with chronic health conditions, which include diabetes mellitus. Significantly, the eligibility criteria also include pregnancy. At a time when individuals are being asked to socially isolate to minimise exposure to SARS‐CoV‐2, many who greatly need ongoing health care are avoiding these appointments out of fear of infection from those also attending the clinic and perhaps from clinicians, who are recognised to be at high risk of infection. It is therefore crucial that telehealth care services are offered (and if not available, fast tracked). This may be via videoconference, or a phone call for those who are less able to use newer technologies or if videoconferencing services are not available. Services traditionally offered in a group setting, such as group education for those with gestational diabetes or type 2 diabetes, may also be delivered via this technology. The use of diabetes management technology can benefit health care and telehealth consultation. Continuous or flash glucose monitoring can be used with both type 1 and 2 diabetes with therapeutic benefit. Many of these devices upload automatically to cloud‐based software. Other devices such as insulin pumps and blood glucose meters can be uploaded by the user before the consultation, which places a greater burden on the individual. Involvement of parents, carers and diabetes educators before the appointment may be of benefit. This may lead to improvements in individual diabetes self‐management. The electronic medical record is vital in updating changes to medications, results and scheduled appointments. Many pathology providers facilitate electronic access to test results, but anecdotally some patients may avoid having pathology tests taken in order to minimise travel and exposure to others. The individuals who are at greatest risk of complications from COVID‐19 are still being determined. It seems clear that those with diabetes and other chronic comorbidities are at increased risk of morbidity. A number of small observational studies have analysed comorbidities in individuals with severe SARS‐CoV‐2 infection from China. Rates of diabetes (type unspecified, but most likely to be type 2 diabetes given the low incidence of type 1 diabetes in China3) are reported between 7.4% in confirmed cases infection,4 and up to 17% in cases with severe pneumonia.5 A recent meta‐analysis of six studies (including 1527 people) analysed the prevalence of comorbidities among individuals with severe and non‐severe COVID‐19.6 Diabetes complicated 11.7% of severe cases compared with 4% of cases of non‐severe COVID‐19. This did not reach statistical significance; however, this is clearly limited by a lack of statistical power and further analyses are required. Retrospective analysis of survivors and non‐survivors of the 2002–2003 SARS coronavirus outbreak suggested that diabetes was a predictor for mortality.7 This association seemed to be driven by glycaemic control, with an independent association with elevated fasting plasma glucose. This further highlights the need to maintain ongoing medical care to optimise glucose control throughout the current COVID‐19 pandemic. All people who currently smoke should be advised to cease smoking. In addition, receiving the recently available influenza vaccine, which is usually recommended for people with diabetes, would be advisable, although patients should be aware that this will not protect against COVID‐19. Individuals with both type 1 and type 2 diabetes need to have clear action and sick day plans in the eventuality that they become unwell, and should be encouraged to seek face‐to‐face care for complications such as myocardial infarction or high risk foot ulcer. This should be emphasised even for individuals with long standing diabetes, whose initial diabetes education may have occurred years ago. Individuals with type 1 diabetes should have ketone monitoring strips available (preferably blood continuous subcutaneous insulin infusion ketone test strips), know when to test for ketones, and be aware of the need for additional insulin doses (via injection or continuous subcutaneous insulin infusion) during an intercurrent illness. Excellent sick day management resources are available on the websites of the Australian Diabetes Educators Association (https://www.adea.com.au) and National Diabetes Services Scheme (https://www.ndss.com.au). Individuals using hybrid closed loop insulin pumps should be educated that during illness the wearer may need to exit automatic mode to enable more rapid correction of hyperglycaemia with manual correction boluses of insulin and a temporary increased basal rate.8 The algorithm within the hybrid closed pump may otherwise not adapt quickly enough to manage hyperglycaemia during acute illness. With the increased use of sodium–glucose cotransporter type 2 (SGLT2) inhibitors in Australia and internationally, all individuals treated with SGLT2 inhibitors should be educated on the need to withhold these drugs during illness to minimise the risk of ketoacidosis.9 This should be reiterated to GPs and emergency physicians to screen for SGLT2 inhibitor use in patients presenting with COVID‐19 or any illness. There have been mixed anecdotal reports as to whether non‐steroidal anti‐inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) may predispose patients to COVID‐19. There has been suggestion that NSAIDs may upregulate angiotensin‐converting enzyme 2 (ACE2),10 and therefore potentially predispose by a similar mechanism suggested for angiotensin receptor blockers (ARBs). Currently there are no guidelines to avoid the use of NSAIDs. In relation to COVID‐19, there is also increasing interest in the use of ACE inhibitors and ARBs in individuals with type 1 or type 2 diabetes and other chronic care conditions, such as diabetes. SARS‐CoV‐2 binds to ACE2, allowing entrance into the host cells.11 ACE inhibitors and ARBs can result in upregulation of ACE2 in some tissues in both human and animal models.10,12,13 However, not all investigators have found a link between these antihypertensives and upregulation of ACE2.14 It has been proposed that ACE inhibitors and ARBs may theoretically increase susceptibility to COVID‐19 by increasing ACE2 levels. However, there is currently no evidence to link the use of these agents to increased risk or severity of COVID‐19. Indeed, other research groups have hypothesised that the use of ARBs may be a potential therapeutic modality.15 Following SARS‐CoV‐2 binding to ACE2, there is downregulation of ACE2 with subsequent increased angiotensin levels and exacerbation of COVID‐19 related lung injury. It has been proposed that the downregulation of ACE2 by ARBs might protect against such injury.15 Other groups have suggested that ARBs may stabilise the binding of ACE2 to the type 1 angiotensin receptor and may therefore reduce available binding sites for SARS‐Cov‐2.16 Currently, there is no evidence to suggest changing antihypertensive therapy, and multiple national and international bodies including the Australian Diabetes Society, Australian and New Zealand Society of Cardiac and Thoracic Surgeons, and the American College of Cardiology and European Society of Hypertension have recommended that ACE inhibitors and ARBs should not be ceased.17 Trials are currently underway to assess the impact of these agents during COVID‐19 infection (https://clinicaltrials.gov). Patients should be encouraged to continue their ACE inhibitor or ARB drugs, and if not prepared to do so, be offered alternative drugs for blood pressure control. This is a time of great concern to all individuals, and perhaps more so to those who have been informed they are at greater risk of COVID‐19 and its complications. This may necessitate a greater state of preparedness. The current advice is that there will be no shortage of insulin supplies or consumables needed for insulin pump therapy or blood glucose monitoring equipment, yet anecdotally, local pharmacy shortages of insulins, ketone strips and oral hypoglycaemic drugs have been reported and are being addressed by government prescription limits. Should patients be unable to obtain their usual prescriptions, suitable alternatives can be recommended to them by their diabetes care clinicians. It is critical that individuals with diabetes and other chronic conditions do not hoard these medical supplies and inadvertently create a critical supply shortage. Continuation of health care to at‐risk individuals is crucial throughout the pandemic. Telehealth is the key for the delivery of such care. It is important that people with diabetes are educated regarding the management of their condition during acute illness, including medication changes. It is also critical that there is no deterioration in the medical management of glycaemia and other complications of diabetes, which, if neglected, may result in increased morbidity and mortality independent of COVID‐19.
Emma S Scott · Alicia J Jenkins · Gregory R Fulcher
Reconsidering the immediate release of prisoners during COVID‐19 community restrictions
The current reduced capacity of post‐release services may compound offender vulnerabilities, increasing their risk of harm to themselves and others The coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID‐19) pandemic has affected many countries internationally and has been implicated in more than 445 000 deaths worldwide.1 The speed at which this infectious disease is transmitted has led to calls to immediately release prisoners from custody in some countries, including Australia, and has already led to the release of some prisoners in others. The reasons for these calls to action are intuitively rational. Custodial environments are susceptible to a COVID‐19 outbreak given the confined conditions and potential for overcrowding.2 Moreover, prison populations are often vulnerable, having poorer physical and mental health and other social challenges (eg, substance misuse, homelessness) compared with the general population.3 At the time of writing, Australian governments have yet to immediately release select prisoners into the community as part of efforts to mitigate the spread of COVID‐19, despite recent advocacy to do so. Experts across a number of sectors have recommended the early release of prisoners from vulnerable groups if possible, including Indigenous Australians, women, children, older prisoners, victims of domestic violence, and those with chronic health issues.4 However, the proposed early release strategy requires a nuanced assessment of its potential societal consequences and, most importantly, its immediate impact on the health and wellbeing of candidate prisoners for release. Victoria and New South Wales — Australia's most populous states — provide a useful case in point. Stage 3 restrictions — home confinement except for restricted essential activities5 — have been in effect for approximately 2 months. Some restrictions were eased in late May, although limits on public and private gatherings remain in place. Prisons in both Victoria and NSW have yet to record a single case of COVID‐19 within the inmate population. In Victoria, a number of safety mechanisms have been introduced by correctional centres to help manage the potential transmission of the virus.6 These include: temperature testing of all staff before entry to the facility; sending staff home who present with high temperatures and other flu‐like symptoms, and requiring them to undertake a COVID‐19 test before returning; isolating all new prison admissions for up to 14 days; isolating prisoners who display cold or flu‐like symptoms; adjusting programs to abide by physical distancing; and enabling prisoners to connect with family members via video calls on tablet devices (“video visits”) as an alternative to in‐prison visitation. Moreover, conventional medical, psychological and cultural support services continue to be available to prisoners. Similar precautions have been implemented in NSW correctional centres,7 which hold the largest proportion of prisoners in Australia. With no confirmed cases in both Victorian and NSW correctional centres and ongoing efforts to restrict the materialisation of COVID‐19 in custodial settings, the potential costs of releasing vulnerable prisoners into the community necessitates scrutiny. Any prisoners released under anti‐COVID‐19 preventive measures will return to a general community enduring social restrictions and society‐wide economic contraction. The post‐release community support services ordinarily available to released offenders are currently compromised or are experiencing significant delays.8,9,10,11 Moreover, government social security services (ie, Centrelink), which are heavily relied upon by individuals after release, are currently overwhelmed as they service thousands of newly unemployed clients.12 Mental health and crisis support services are also strained as they adjust to remote service delivery and contend with an elevated spike in community‐wide help seeking.13 The reduced capacity for intensive case management, monitoring and re‐entry assistance for released prisoners is a serious concern given their higher levels of complex mental and physical health needs, as well as histories of unemployment, addiction, social disadvantage and homelessness.3 Australian research points to high rates of mortality and self‐harm shortly after release from custody.14 Key predictors of post‐release mortality include mental disorder, suicide and substance misuse — concerns that transitional support programs and other post‐release interventions will be unable to optimally manage during the national lockdown. This scenario poses an increased health risk for released prisoners, compounding their vulnerability and increasing the likelihood of problem behaviour and recidivism. Without readily available coping strategies and assistance with pro‐social functioning, released prisoners with histories of violence, aggression, impulsivity and serious mental illness may put themselves and others (particularly cohabitants) at risk. Calls to release prisoners who are survivors of domestic violence must also consider the heightened risk of revictimisation after release. The social isolation, economic stress and reduced options for support during stage 3 restrictions may exacerbate unhealthy relationship dynamics, especially among those with complex needs. Moreover, physical distancing may not be adhered to by those whose behavioural and psychological needs are untreated. Proposals to immediately release vulnerable prisoners to avert the ostensible threat of COVID‐19 in Australian custodial environments warrant consideration. The potential for a COVID‐19 outbreak in custody is a genuine concern, notwithstanding proactive measures employed in Victorian and NSW correctional centres. However, this advocacy must consider the broader social context. A focus on early release cannot be uncoupled from the current compromised community environment prisoners will face after detainment. Community support services are increasingly strained at a time when released prisoners will have a greater need for them. As such, it is important to balance the relative health and safety trade‐offs of remaining in custody — in Victorian and NSW prisons, there are no confirmed cases of COVID‐19 and health supports remain available — with early release into a resource‐depleted community. The real prospect of harmful outcomes for immediately released vulnerable prisoners must be weighed heavily during this challenging period.
Stephane Shepherd · Benjamin L Spivak
COVID‐19: planning for the aftermath to manage the aftershocks
Australia has managed the crisis well so far but we should now also plan for future waves and the recovery phase Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID‐19) pandemic management is focused on prevention, case finding and survival. Australia and New Zealand have done well and the numbers in our intensive care units (ICUs) are currently manageable. Our subacute sector is presently able to deal with patients requiring rehabilitation. However, rehabilitation needs following COVID‐19 are broad, complex and include cognitive, motor and respiratory sequelae to the infection, acute respiratory distress syndrome, and the thromboembolic response. Planning and anticipatory action has been Australia's strength so far. In the same vein, an active planning approach is now required for the post‐acute and rehabilitation response. This pandemic will inevitably have its waves, and will continue to threaten until a vaccine is rolled out. Not having a plan for possible surges is unconscionable, particularly when the consequences of the relaxation of restrictions are unknown. Currently, Australian numbers are at a trickle; however, the challenge has been front and centre in countries such as Italy,1 Spain, the United Kingdom and North America.2 In Wuhan, China, 36% of those with severe COVID‐19 had neurological complications such as stroke, critical care neuropathy, and the complications of prolonged bed rest (eg, venous thromboembolism, disseminated intravascular coagulation, acute kidney injury, delirium anxiety, post‐traumatic stress disorder).3 In Italy, rehabilitation physicians have been treating post‐extubation dysphagia, impaired mobility, critical care myopathy and neurocognitive losses,1 while the British Society of Rehabilitation Medicine has established a framework of partnership with acute services to improve patient flow, outcomes and access to ventilators.4 In the United States, hospitals have had to rapidly transition acute patients to rehabilitation hospitals. In New Orleans, a 1000 bed post‐acute hospital was dedicated to post‐COVID‐19 disability, with rehabilitation teams treating patients battling persistent hypoxia, stroke and mental illness.5 The majority of patients who are ventilated for more than 7 days suffer complications that require rehabilitation, 60% are unable to walk, and 17% die within a year.7 One‐third suffer neurological complications, many require inpatient rehabilitation for over 3 weeks, and some take over 150 days to regain their capacity to walk independently.8 Others with stroke or cardiac complications of COVID‐19 will require rehabilitation for up to 6 weeks, with some requiring lifelong support. Australia needs to plan now, not just for survivors in the initial post‐acute stage, but also to manage individuals affected in subsequent waves. Such patients may require rehabilitation, along with those, fearful of infection, who present to hospital late with non‐COVID‐19 conditions like stroke, and those with deteriorating chronic diseases who have not had access to hospital based services. That means not only estimating the patient population but also ensuring that subacute health workers have sufficient access to personal protective equipment, staffing and training. In the Australian Government's emergency response plan,9 the recovery phase devolves to the states, but there is no mention of the post‐acute phase. In April, the New South Wales Ministry of Health established a rehabilitation community of practice to advise it. This follows international experience, as the International Society of Physical and Rehabilitation Medicine's disaster committee lead, Australia's Fary Khan states: “early rehabilitation reduces disability and improves clinical outcomes”.10 Currently, many rehabilitation units are not prepared. Inpatient rehabilitation units (public and private) are almost always working to capacity. COVID‐19 patients will be expect to be accommodated in addition to usual patients (eg, strokes, spinal injuries, amputations). The NSW Rehabilitation Community of Practice has developed a staged COVID‐19 escalation plan,11 but the plans turn on one integral point — contagion. When COVID‐19 survivors come to rehabilitation wards will they no longer be infected? While a national statement exists,12 local de‐isolation protocols are yet to be implemented or updated in many hospitals and local health districts. Many people with severe COVID‐19 have positive nasal swabs for up to 37 days13 but are not considered infectious once 10 days have elapsed from after first symptoms. Attention to this timetable is critical should we need to make ICU beds readily available by shifting patients to rehabilitation. In some US rehabilitation hospitals, patients are assumed to always be infectious, which has a significant impact on personal protective equipment usage. To ensure de‐isolation, moderate and severe COVID‐19 patients transferring to rehabilitation must have negative swabs on 2 consecutive days, be symptom‐free for 2–3 days and be at least 10 days from symptom onset. In NSW, these criteria are currently being put in place and such a protocol will require discussion, review of the evidence, and leadership to execute. Once we have a de‐isolation protocol, we can confidently activate a staged escalation plan. While our ICUs are coping with current numbers, our subacute sector has been managing with innovative models of care, such as mobile rehabilitation teams.14 The NSW Rehabilitation Community of Practice's COVID‐19 response principles11 refer to mobile rehabilitation teams, variously called ART (acute care rehabilitation team) or SMART (specialist management with acute rehabilitation treatment) teams. They provide rehabilitation and discharge planning services to patients in the acute hospitals. It is a parallel care model in partnership with acute care that has been successful in decreasing length of stay and facilitating early discharge or transfer to inpatient rehabilitation facilities. These teams have discharged almost 50% of their patients directly home, avoiding inpatient rehabilitation admissions, and have been active in many NSW hospitals since 2009. Once home, tele‐rehabilitation physician consultations, supported by community‐based allied health practitioners, can be delivered, although additional resources are still being sought. Similar models exist or are under development in other jurisdictions as well. In the event that our acute hospitals start to face challenges in accommodating those needing COVID‐19 or ICU beds, the subacute sector will need to escalate to the next stage to create access. Options include decanting non‐COVID‐19 patients to the private sector, increasing resources to acute or mobile rehabilitation teams, scaled up tele‐rehabilitation services, and preparation for public hospital rehabilitation inpatient units to manage COVID‐19 patients. However, in order to decant to the private sector we need completed agreements with private hospitals, as flagged on 31 March by the Minister of Health.15 Many private hospitals have facilities that are well suited for rehabilitation patients. This would require delineating private hospitals as COVID‐19‐free facilities and would be dependent on appropriate triage and testing facilities. Managing the logistics will be a challenge in the subacute sector, particularly if planning is left as an afterthought. The efficient flow of disabled COVID‐19 patients from acute to rehabilitation care will likely produce better patient outcomes and improve safety. Egress from acute hospitals means access to intensive care and ventilation for the community. If Australia and New Zealand's success at flattening the curve continues, our existing subacute sector will manage. If not, mobile rehabilitation teams will need to be expanded, systems for patient flow to the private sector will need to be operational, and enhanced tele‐rehabilitation services will need to be working. This will require the same vision and leadership that made our acute COVID‐19 response world leading, collaborative and publicly supported. In the UK and the US, we see the brutality of this pandemic, with mass burials and the tragic toll on health care workers. Australia and New Zealand have avoided this so far, but it is because we have planned well. We now need to prepare for the recovery phase because surviving may not be the same as living.
Steven G Faux · Kathy Eagar · Ian D Cameron · Christopher J Poulos
The risks of medical complacency towards poliomyelitis
Australia needs to improve vigilance in the global endeavour to eradicate poliomyelitis In 1988, there were over 350 000 cases of paralytic poliomyelitis globally.1 In 2018, there were 29 cases and in 2019 there were 112 cases2 — all in the only two remaining countries in the world where wild poliovirus (WPV) is endemic (Afghanistan and Pakistan). We are tantalisingly close to global eradication. What is poliomyelitis? Poliovirus is an enterovirus and exists as three serotypes: WPV types 1, 2 and 3. Spread via the faecal–oral route, poliomyelitis results in subclinical or self‐limited infection in most patients, but causes acute flaccid paralysis (AFP) due to anterior horn cell damage in about one in 200 cases.3 Ubiquitous distribution of polioviruses and epidemics of paralysis caused widespread panic throughout the world in the early 20th century. With an ambitious and unprecedented level of international public and private collaboration and funding, the Global Polio Eradication Initiative (GPEI) was launched in 1988.2 In recent years, significant achievements have been recorded (Box 1), but the target of global eradication is yet to be reached. The GPEI currently faces two main global issues. Firstly, addressing the eradication of WPV1 in Afghanistan and Pakistan, and secondly, dealing with the growing issue of vaccine‐derived poliovirus (VDPV).1 Vaccine strain virus can slowly accumulate mutations over time, which eventually result in reversion to neurovirulence — these strains are known as VDPV. Although extremely uncommon, this phenomenon becomes increasingly prominent in areas where there are long term low vaccination rates, allowing continued circulation of the attenuated poliovirus contained in the Sabin vaccine. Ironically, the modern prominence of VDPVs is a consequence of the GPEI's successful endeavours to reduce WPV. Poliomyelitis close to home VDPVs are appearing in areas with low immunisation rates in Africa, and recent emergence in closer neighbours puts poliomyelitis back on our doorstep. In 2018, there was an outbreak in Papua New Guinea involving 26 VDPV type 1 AFP cases, including a death.4 In late 2019, the Philippines reported 15 VDPV cases, and Malaysia reported three cases in 2019 and one in 2020.5 These countries had previously been declared poliomyelitis‐free.6 Between 2012–13 and 2017–18, the median number of annual arrivals for Philippine citizens to Australia was 141 813, with 8% of these arrivals being children younger than 15 years.7 Screening individuals at our borders is not an economically viable option to prevent poliomyelitis, thus highlighting the importance of optimal immunisation and high quality surveillance. Australia's commitment to World Health Organization targets Australia and all other Western Pacific region countries were certified as poliomyelitis‐free on 29 October 2000.6 As a signatory to the World Health Organization's International Health Regulations (2005),8 Australia reports annually on its compliance, with obligations to prevent and respond to acute public health risks of international consequence. This includes observing temporary recommendations issued when the WHO declared the risk of international spread of poliovirus a public health emergency of international concern in 2014, poliovirus containment activities, and reporting to the WHO Regional Certification Commission providing evidence that Australia's poliomyelitis‐free status has been maintained. This evidence requires Australia to meet WHO‐specified surveillance standards. The Australian National Enterovirus Reference Laboratory plays an important role in providing enterovirus testing and environmental surveillance for Australia and the Western Pacific region to meet these requirements. Environmental surveillance for polioviruses is costly and labour‐intensive and involves sampling sewage for detection and then characterisation of enteroviruses. There is currently inadequate capacity to routinely conduct environmental surveillance throughout Australia. Therefore, this capacity is currently directed at monitoring during high risk episodes; for example, when there is a cluster of AFP cases or after the importation of a confirmed case. The detection of any poliovirus in Australia is considered a likely importation event, as Australia stopped the use of the oral polio vaccine in 2005. Adequate clinical surveillance is based on two key WHO indicators. Firstly, achieving an AFP detection rate of at least one case per 100 000 children younger than 15 years. Secondly, the WHO requires enterovirus culture on two stool samples collected at least 24 hours apart, both within 14 days of onset of paralysis, for at least 80% of reported AFP cases.9 Submission of two samples ensures adequate sensitivity, required due to intermittent viral shedding.10 Meeting these targets provides national and international reassurance that there is timely investigation that excludes poliomyelitis as the cause of AFP. However, for Australian clinicians, awareness of this surveillance and its purpose is often not well understood. An overview of the AFP surveillance structure is provided in Box 2. Importantly, AFP cases need to be notified and investigated even if another diagnosis (eg, Guillain–Barré syndrome) is likely. Australia's performance in meeting World Health Organization targets While Australia has met the surveillance target for AFP notification for the past 11 years, we consistently fail to reach the WHO benchmark for stool submissions (Box 3).11 This is in marked contrast to many of our closest neighbours. Only New Zealand, the small Pacific Island countries and Papua New Guinea have a similarly low performance over recent years. In 2018, adequate stool collection was achieved in only 44% of Australian AFP cases and 2019 results are currently at 65%.12 The most populous states of New South Wales and Victoria consistently underperform, with rates of 33% and 42% respectively for 2018 (Bruce Thorley, Head of Victorian Infectious Diseases Reference Laboratory, Australia, personal communication, September 2019). In 2018, three cases of AFP and anterior horn cell abnormality on magnetic resonance imaging in young children were reported to WHO by Australia as “poliomyelitis compatible” because of a lack of adequate clinical information and appropriate stool sample collection (David Isaacs, Chair of Polio Expert Panel, Australia, personal communication, September 2019). In addition to providing robust public health surveillance, ensuring adequate investigation of AFP can produce relevant diagnostic information for an individual. A 3‐year‐old child with permanent significant disability following AFP in 2018 had the neuropathic enterovirus D68 (EV‐D68) in faeces sent for AFP surveillance purposes.13,14 The converse may also apply. Detection of a non‐polio enterovirus by polymerase chain reaction (PCR) in a clinical sample does not preclude the possibility of dual infection with poliovirus. Co‐infection and subsequent recombination of species C non‐polio enteroviruses with Sabin‐like poliovirus is an important precursor event in the development of VDPVs.15 Barriers to improvement A number of logistical issues affect successful stool sample collection; for example, late presentation of patients, discharge before sample collection, and constipation may all have an impact on stool collection rates.16 In some instances, pre‐examination by microbiology laboratories using enterovirus reverse transcriptase PCR (RT‐PCR) may occur. This does not exclude poliovirus infection and testing at the WHO reference laboratory is still required. Due to the extended viral shedding in the gastrointestinal tract, stool samples are the specimen type most likely to facilitate enterovirus identification. The collection of rectal or throat swabs is discouraged by WHO due to reduced sensitivity compared with faeces samples. Pragmatism may dictate that the former may be preferable to no testing at all in a particular child if barriers to faeces collection exist. Recognising poliomyelitis in a low prevalence community Cases of poliomyelitis present as acute and often painful weakness in affected limbs. The weakness is often asymmetrical, affecting lower limbs more frequently than upper limbs, with rapid onset and usually no further progression after 48 hours. Sometimes patients may present atypically, reinforcing the need for any AFP to be reported and investigated. Alternative presentations may include dyspnoea or dysphagia due to weakness of bulbar or respiratory muscles. Cerebrospinal fluid findings are suggestive of viral meningitis. There are usually no systemic symptoms, although a recent history of a mild upper respiratory tract infection with or without headache may be elicited.3 A history of exposure to a high risk area (eg, Central Africa, Pakistan, Papua New Guinea or Afghanistan) and/or lack of previous immunisation is important. A history of distant past immunisation will not exclude the diagnosis, particularly if this was received overseas.10 Call to action There appears to be a level of complacency among physicians due to the rarity of clinical poliomyelitis in Australia. In addition, there is a lack of awareness in the diagnostic chain regarding the importance of laboratory surveillance. In 2020, a comprehensive action plan was implemented by the Paediatric Active Enhanced Disease Surveillance (PAEDS) network to improve faeces collections across the country. Clinicians should not fear that they are being alarmist in notifying AFP cases that they believe have negligible risk of poliomyelitis. The emphasis on detection and investigation of AFP cases despite an alternative diagnosis may seem pointless for an individual case, but at a national level, it allows confidence in the integrity of surveillance and, ultimately, achievement of poliomyelitis eradication. Conclusion The recent VDPV outbreaks in Papua New Guinea and the Philippines and the ongoing WPV1 circulation in Pakistan and Afghanistan emphasise the possibility of poliomyelitis re‐introduction into Australia. Clinical acumen is unlikely to provide a timely diagnosis. Clinicians are reminded that poliomyelitis as a diagnosis should be excluded in all cases of AFP; faeces collection from all AFP cases independent of age should be viewed as a priority to ensure the country remains poliomyelitis‐free and as an opportunity to maintain surveillance, even when another diagnosis is confirmed or highly likely. Box 1 – Selected achievements relevant for Australia in the history of the Global Polio Eradication Initiative2 Year Milestone 2000 Australia declared poliomyelitis‐free 2005 Inactivated polio vaccine replaces oral polio vaccine in Australia 2014 South‐East Asia declared poliomyelitis‐free 2015 Wild poliovirus type 2 declared eradicated 2017 99% of poliomyelitis eradicated globally 2019 Wild poliovirus type 3 declared eradicated Box 2 – Schematic overview of acute flaccid paralysis surveillance structure in Australia APSU = Australian Paediatric Surveillance Unit (www.apsu.org.au); PEP = Polio Expert Panel; PAEDS = Paediatric Active Enhanced Disease Surveillance Network (www.paeds.org.au); VIDRL = Victorian Infectious Disease Reference Laboratory (https://www/vidrl.org.au/surveillance/afp-surveillance1); WHO = World Health Organization. Box 3 – Percentage of acute flaccid paralysis notification with adequate stool sample collection, Australia, 1995–2018* WHO = World Health Organization. * Data reproduced, with permission, from Roberts et al.11
Meryta May · David Durrheim · Jason A Roberts · Rhonda Owen
Medical education
A case of toxigenic, pharyngeal diphtheria in Australia
Clinical record A 42‐year‐old woman presented to the Sunshine Coast University Hospital, Queensland, with a 5‐day history of odynophagia, orthopnoea and rapid onset of neck swelling over 12 hours. She had returned one week prior from a year‐long trip to Central America, Sri Lanka and Indonesia. Relevant past medical history included nephrotic syndrome due to minimal change disease, use of prednisolone 2.5 mg daily and previous treatment with rituximab. Childhood vaccinations were reported, but she had no booster travel vaccinations. On examination, she had right‐sided neck swelling, consistent with “bull neck” (Box, A), and an exudative right tonsil with a haemorrhagic component (Box, B). The patient had several healed skin lesions and a 2 cm non‐healing ulcer on her buttock. Flexible nasendoscopy showed supraglottic oedema with a patent airway. The diagnosis of diphtheria was strongly considered, with differentials including peritonsillar abscess and tonsillitis. Computed tomography scan of the neck demonstrated peritonsillar phlegmon and oedema in the parapharyngeal space, pre‐vertebral fat and subcutaneous neck tissues. She was commenced on intravenous benzylpenicillin, lincomycin and dexamethasone, was placed on contact and droplet precautions, and was admitted to the intensive care unit. Multiple tissue and swab samples were taken from the pharyngeal membrane and the buttock wound and urgently sent to the laboratory for culture into selective media. She underwent elective intubation 24 hours later due to worsening laryngeal oedema. Tissue and swabs from the pharyngeal membrane and sacral wound grew Corynebacterium diphtheriae. Diphtheria antitoxin (DAT) 100 000 IU was administered 36 hours into her admission. The isolates were confirmed to be toxigenic by polymerase chain reaction.1,2 The patient was discharged from the intensive care unit on Day 6. On Day 7, she developed anterior T wave inversions on her electrocardiogram, with an elevated troponin value (0.39 μg/L; reference range, < 0.040 μg/L). Her cardiac enzymes showed serial improvement. She developed a moderate glossopharyngeal and vagal palsy, which resolved after 3 weeks, and peripheral neuropathy, which resolved after 4 months. The cardiac and neurological sequelae were thought to be complications of pharyngeal diphtheria. The local Public Health Unit and the infection management service identified 12 staff and seven close community contacts. All contacts had nasal and throat swabs taken, were treated with oral erythromycin and were vaccinated where appropriate.3 Staff were excluded from work until returning negative throat and nasal cultures at 48–72 hours. Discussion Diphtheria is an acute pharyngeal or cutaneous infection caused by toxigenic strains of C. diphtheriae — a gram‐positive, non‐motile, non‐encapsulated bacillus.4 The infection spreads by respiratory droplets or direct contact with nasopharyngeal secretions or skin lesions. The incubation period of diphtheria is commonly 2–5 days. Data from the World Health Organization show that diphtheria is endemic to South‐East Asia, including Indonesia, Malaysia and the Philippines.5 Our case illustrates the need for a thorough travel history and administration of timely antitoxin therapy in suspected diphtheria cases to limit diphtheria‐related neurological and cardiovascular consequences. Diphtheria is rare in Australia after the widespread use of the effective vaccine following World War II, with most cases associated with sporadic importations. There have been seven cases of diphtheria reported since 2001, including one that was fatal in 2011.6 Diphtheria affects the upper respiratory tract, presenting with sore throat and cervical lymphadenopathy; a coating membrane forms in about a third of cases. Simultaneous infection of the skin and respiratory tract is uncommon. Accumulation of the C. diphtheriae organism within the membrane along with fibrin debris result in the appearance of a white pseudomembrane.4 The pathognomonic bull neck is caused by superficial oedema of neck tissues and is associated with a more severe course and higher mortality. The diphtheria toxin is produced by toxigenic strains of the bacterium and affects the cardiovascular, renal and nervous systems via haematogenous spread. The toxin is bound on cell surface receptors and acts to arrest protein synthesis.7 Toxin‐producing infections have a mortality rate between 5% and 10%.8 Diphtheritic myocarditis occurs in 10–20% of patients with pharyngeal diphtheria manifesting as ST disturbance, corrected QT interval (QTc) prolongation, or heart block.9 Cardiac abnormalities are associated with extensive respiratory tract involvement and bull neck appearance as well as neurological sequelae, which occur in 75% of patients with severe respiratory disease.4 Cranial nerve neuropathy develops first; often presenting as swallowing difficulties and resulting in aspiration. DAT and antibiotics should be administered promptly upon clinical suspicion. Early administration of DAT reduces circulating toxin load and reduces clinical sequelae.3 Our patient received DAT at 36 hours, yet significant neurological sequelae were observed up to 4 months later. Penicillin and/or erythromycin are the antimicrobials of choice; however, resistance has been described.10 Lessons from practice Diphtheria should be suspected in patients presenting with pseudomembranous tonsillitis, significant neck swelling and relevant travel history. It is important for clinicians to liaise with their local laboratory and Public Health Unit in suspicious cases so appropriate investigations and follow‐up can be established. Timely administration of diphtheria antitoxin is imperative and should not be delayed awaiting laboratory confirmation. Booster vaccinations should be considered before travel, particularly in patients who may have waning immunity. Box – “Bull neck” characteristic of diffuse cervical lymphadenopathy with tracheal deviation (A). Pseudomembrane coating right tonsil, soft palate and uvula on presentation (B)
Sarah Grigg · David Hogan · F Shaun Hosein · Dean Johns · Amy Jennison · Shradha Subedi
Demonstrating the mechanism of electrical alternans in cardiac tamponade: “the swinging heart”
A 52-year-old man presented with fever and progressive dyspnoea
Jeet Ram Kashyap · Suraj Kumar
Ethics and law
Challenges in advance care planning: the interface between explicit instructional directives and palliative care
This case study highlights some important legal and ethical considerations related to advance care planning A 71‐year‐old man with vascular risk factors including hypertension and hypercholesterolaemia lived at home with his wife and enjoyed reading, listening to music and discussing global issues. Immediately on disembarkation from a long flight, he experienced a sudden reduction in consciousness with accompanying right hemiplegia and neglect. He was diagnosed with a large left middle cerebral artery infarct and underwent thrombolysis. Following the procedure, he was haemodynamically unstable, with further investigation revealing massive pulmonary emboli. He was anticoagulated and his condition stabilised. Over subsequent days, his hemiplegia improved, and it was felt that with time and ongoing therapy he would be able to stand independently and mobilise with assistance. Unfortunately, he remained severely globally dysphasic and this was considered unlikely to improve. He was unable to feed himself but was easily fed thickened fluids by nursing staff. He had documented an advance care plan (ACP) 5 years before his stroke. His ACP stated that in the event of impairment rendering him “incapable of rational existence” he would not want to be kept alive via artificial means but rather be allowed to die free of pain and distress. About 3 months before his stroke, he updated his ACP to include an advance care directive (ACD) stating what mattered most to him, as well as his worries for the future. His greatest concern was that he might “linger on in a home, with unacceptable quality of life”. He stated that “acceptable quality of life has at its core the ability to understand one's circumstances, to be able to communicate with other people, the ability to be mobile and not being reliant on others for the basics of life such as having to be washed, dressed and fed”. If he was not able to do these things, his wishes were that he be allowed to die as quickly and peacefully as possible. His ACD specifically stated that if he was “in advanced stages of Alzheimer's disease or other incurable, advanced dementing disease and if my appointed health care agent concludes after consultation with my primary health care provider that I am unable to make informed decisions about my health care, and I am unable to feed myself, continuing life would have no value for me”. In that situation, he directed that all life‐prolonging therapies should be withdrawn, including “the provision of nutrition and hydration whether provided artificially or medically or by hand or by assisted feeding”. The ACD was even more explicit about this as it included the directive that “if I am suffering from advanced dementia and appear willing to accept food and fluid by hand offered by assisted or hand feeding, my instructions are that I do NOT want to be fed by hand even if I appear to cooperate in being fed by opening my mouth”. When his lack of cognitive recovery was apparent, his wife, as his appointed medical treatment decision maker, was concerned that his wishes, as specified in the ACD, were not being honoured and queried whether he should continue to be fed by hand. Given the complexity of the situation, a palliative care consultation was sought, along with guidance from representatives of the hospital's clinical ethics committee, including the Chief Medical Officer, legal counsel and representatives from involved clinical teams. Ultimately, the decision was made in close consultation with his wife to respect his ACD. His anticoagulation was ceased and food and fluid discontinued. He died 4 days later, about one month after his stroke. Discussion Our patient had a very clear, and as it transpired, remarkably prophetic ACD. The question as to whether his desire to refuse oral intake was something his treating teams were legally and ethically obligated to follow is worthy of further consideration. The Medical Treatment Planning and Decisions Act 2016 (Vic) came into effect in Victoria in March 2018.1,2 The Act seeks to provide a single framework to ensure that medical treatments align with an individual's preferences in the event that they are unable to make decisions for themselves. The Act supports ACPs that can incorporate the creation of an ACD, as well as the appointment of a medical treatment decision maker to act as a surrogate decision maker should decision‐making capacity be lost. An ACD can contain: instructional directives, which, if a person lacks decision making capacity, take effect as if the person had consented to or refused a specific medical treatment; and/or values directives, which are broader and can encompass desires, worries and acceptable outcomes. Palliative care is defined in the Act to include medical treatments aimed to relieve suffering, as well as the reasonable provision of food and water, which is generally accepted to exclude artificial hydration or enteral feeding.3 To ensure that dying patients receive appropriate end‐of‐life care, the Act distinguishes palliative care from other medical treatments in two ways. First, it specifically prohibits making an instructional directive refusing palliative care. Any statement in an ACD relating to palliative care is given the status of a values directive, meaning the statement can guide but not mandate decisions. Second, the Act allows a clinician to provide palliative care even if this may not align with a patient's wishes and/or the medical treatment decision maker does not agree. Following his stroke, our patient was assessed to lack decision‐making capacity in relation to feeding. His apparent acceptance of supported feeding was therefore not considered an informed decision and thus his ACD and medical treatment decision maker provided the most appropriate guide to future health care management. When considering whether his treating teams were legally obligated to follow his directives in relation to refusal of oral intake, the following would seem pertinent. His wishes in relation to oral input were very specific and labelled as instructional. Although these statements were written in relation to deterioration in the setting of dementia, it would be difficult to argue that his wishes would not also apply in the context of his stroke with its resulting profound disability and dependence. Despite being designated instructional, the directives probably constituted a refusal of reasonable food and water and thus of palliative care. Under the Act, these can be values directives only, and while the team must take patient preferences into account, the directive would not be binding. Although the Act does therefore appear to allow the treating team to override an individual's wish not to be fed, the law provides little assistance regarding the circumstances in which this would be ethically permissible. Published guidance for clinicians faced with this specific situation is very limited. Although there is literature discussing the clinical and ethico‐legal issues associated with voluntarily stopping eating and drinking,4,5,6,7,8 this is typically in the context of someone whose decision‐making capacity was intact at the time of commencement. There is conflict in the literature regarding the ethics and legality of ACDs that request the cessation of handfeeding in progressive dementia.5,9,10,11 In our patient's case, although the directives were not legally binding, the health care team felt that the ACD, along with his wife's input, was the best guide to appropriate care provision, particularly when it became increasingly likely that he would not regain his previous cognitive abilities. Ultimately, regardless of the instructional or values‐based designation of his written instructions, there was uniform agreement that he could not have made his wishes any clearer, and accordingly this was respected. This case holds some important lessons for patients writing ACDs and for their health care providers. First, had our patient's directives been less detailed, or had he been admitted to an alternative health care setting with different ethical or religious values, support for his refusal of feeding may not have been regarded as acceptable practice. This might have led to mandated ongoing oral feeding, which may have led to significant conflict between the health service and our patient's wife, and considerable distress for all involved. Second, the case highlights the importance of adequate education for clinicians guiding, and the public completing, ACPs. Third, while the law provides some guidance to clinicians regarding the refusal of palliative care, including food and water, each case will require careful individual consideration and reflection on the different ethical issues at play. Finally, while every state and territory of Australia recognises ACDs in either legislation or case law, differences exist across jurisdictions in how they are recognised and interpreted. Importantly, although there is scope to give effect to an ACD created in another jurisdiction, had our patient's flight arrived in a different state than where he resided and completed his ACD, this would have added another layer of legal complexity given that Australia does not have a unifying legal framework for the application and interpretation of ACDs.12
Peter Eastman · Danielle Ko · Brian H Le
Reflection
Clinical placements for medical students in the time of COVID‐19
Removing students from clinical placements may have significant implications for future workforce planning Clinical placements for medical students are central to teaching and learning in any medical program, with students in the later years generally undertaking rotations in disciplines, such as general practice, general medicine, paediatrics, psychiatry, surgery, anaesthesia, obstetrics and gynaecology. In our medical program, there are close to 300 students currently enrolled in the 2 final years. Despite the current coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID‐19) pandemic, Flinders University has remained committed to providing medical students with clinical placements, a stance that aligns with the Medical Deans of Australia and New Zealand,1 all state and territory health authorities, and the Australian Health Protection Principal Committee. The local consensus between stakeholders is that we have an obligation to treat all patients with appropriate safeguards in place. Given that the longer term response to COVID‐19 is unknown, removing students from clinical placements may not only affect their medical training but may also have significant implications for future workforce planning.1 However, there are extraordinary challenges in the clinical and university environments. While COVID‐19 represents a unique situation in terms of world involvement, there are other examples of large‐scale disruption to medical education, including the severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) outbreak of 2003. In Canada, the local transmission of SARS in Toronto caused a significant interruption to usual teaching, particularly affecting the teaching of clinical methods skills and causing the cessation of third and fourth clerkships. This had an impact on all final year medical students and first year residency positions in Canada,2 an experience that was reflected in Hong Kong with the cancellation of ward teaching and delays in examinations.3 While we may wish to avoid this outcome, maintaining all medical students in their clinical placements can be challenging. There is heightened anxiety among the existing workforce, who are understandably concerned about the rapidly changing impact of COVID‐19, and this can lead to differing opinions among clinical supervisors as to the merits of continuing clinical placements. At our university, in partnership with medical students and health care providers, we have addressed this concern by writing and widely distributing clear guidelines for clinical placements. In some high risk placements, such as endoscopy and other aerosol generating procedures, we have encouraged clinical supervisors and students to negotiate appropriate activities that do not increase the risk of COVID‐19 exposure to the student, other staff or the patients, while still allowing the student to learn in the clinical environment. The SARS experience in Canada highlighted the variability in standard precautions and infection control practices and teaching.2 In our medical program, training on the use of personal protective equipment was previously embedded within clinical rotations. In response to COVID‐19, we have instigated refresher training for students on handwashing, N95 (or P2) mask fitting, and donning and doffing of protective clothing, with formal certification on completion. To date, students have chosen to remain on clinical placements. While they have concerns about their personal safety, they remain committed to both patient care and their own learning. This was also the case in Canada, where students took pride in their role as part of the health care team and understood that providing health care is not without risk.2 Furthermore, real‐life learning in the current situation may be invaluable. Students have seen health system governance operationalised, have witnessed senior clinicians act thoughtfully and with intent despite their own anxiety, and have watched professional practice in the provision of good communication and a sense of humanity and compassion for sick patients. COVID‐19 presents significant challenges to medical schools that embed teaching and learning within the clinical environment. Our final year students are the future medical workforce and it is our job to ensure they are competent, undifferentiated, work‐ready practitioners. Furthermore, the wider community has reasonable expectations that the newly graduated workforce will be prepared for pandemics in addition to the provision of routine care. This situation reinforces the case for competency‐based teaching and learning. Education that is discipline‐focused is likely to be significantly disadvantaged by the cancellation of risky placements or by placements that have undergone substantial modifications as a result of health care resource reallocation. However, it is important to remember that considerable clinical work unrelated to COVID‐19 still needs to continue. Ongoing evaluation of the actual educational experience that students are receiving will assist us in the provision of additional learning if deficits arise, and, in the worst case scenario, help us identify if clinical placements are no longer tenable.
Julie A Halbert · Alison Jones · Liam P Ramsey
Editorials
The impact and reach of the MJA in a year of living dangerously
Our journal remains a source of trusted information in a world awash with wild beliefs and untrustworthy advice
Nicholas J Talley AC
The role of cost‐effectiveness analyses in investment decision making by primary health networks
Scientific rigour and pragmatic implementation are both required, combining research findings with other forms of evidence
Sally Hall Dykgraaf · Amanda Barnard
Research
A computer‐guided quality improvement tool for primary health care: cost‐effectiveness analysis based on TORPEDO trial data
Objective: To assess the cost‐effectiveness of a computer‐guided quality improvement intervention for primary health care management of cardiovascular disease (CVD) in people at high risk. Design: Modelled cost‐effectiveness analysis of the HealthTracker intervention and usual care for people with high CVD risk, based on TORPEDO trial data on prescribing patterns, changes in intermediate risk factors (low‐density lipoprotein cholesterol, systolic blood pressure), and Framingham risk scores. Participants: Hypothetical population of people with high CVD risk attending primary health care services in a New South Wales primary health network (PHN) of mean size. Intervention: HealthTracker, integrated into health care provider electronic health record systems, provides real time decision support, risk communication, a clinical audit tool, and a web portal for performance feedback. Main outcome measures: Incremental cost‐effectiveness ratios (ICERs): difference in costs of the intervention and usual care divided by number of CVD events averted with HealthTracker. Results: The estimated numbers of major CVD events over five years per 1000 patients at high CVD risk were lower in PHNs using HealthTracker, both for patients with prior CVD events (secondary prevention; 259 v 267 with usual care) and for those without prior events (primary prevention; 168 v 176). Medication costs were higher and hospitalisation costs lower with HealthTracker than with usual care for both primary and secondary prevention. The estimated ICER for one averted CVD event was $7406 for primary prevention and $17 988 for secondary prevention. Conclusion: Modelled cost‐effectiveness analyses provide information that can assist decisions about investing in health care quality improvement interventions. We estimate that HealthTracker could prevent major CVD events for less than $20 000 per event averted. Trial registration (TORPEDO): Australian New Zealand Clinical Trials Registry, ACTRN 12611000478910.
Bindu Patel · David P Peiris · Anushka Patel · Stephen Jan · Mark F Harris · Tim Usherwood · Kathryn Panaretto · Thomas Lung
New Australian birthweight centiles
Our new birthweight charts may facilitate more accurate diagnosis and improve care for small-for-gestational age babies
Farmey A Joseph · Jonathan A Hyett · Philip J Schluter · Andrew McLennan · Adrienne Gordon · Georgina M Chambers · Lisa Hilder · Stephanie KY Choi · Bradley Vries
Research letter
Rapid increase in intravenous iron therapy for women of reproductive age in Australia
Iron deficiency anaemia, which affects 14–22% of women of reproductive age,1 has adverse effects on pregnant women and their infants. Oral iron supplementation is the first‐line treatment, but intravenous iron therapy is sometimes preferred because of gastrointestinal effects, low patient adherence, and the delayed effect of oral iron therapy. Further, guidelines now recommend intravenous iron therapy in certain situations,2 and more rapidly infusible intravenous iron preparations have recently become available in Australia. We investigated the use of intravenous iron by women of reproductive age, analysing dispensing data for a 10% random sample of Australians eligible to receive subsidised medicines under the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme (PBS).3 We included data for all women aged 18–44 years with a dispensing claim for intravenous iron during January 2013 to December 2017. Three preparations were available: iron polymaltose and iron sucrose during 2013–2017, and ferric carboxymaltose from June 2014. We calculated the annual number and rate of intravenous iron dispensing claims and iron preparation types by age group, using Australian Bureau of Statistics 2017 population data,4 and estimated overall dispensing rates by extrapolating these numbers to the national level (Supporting Information). The study was approved by the New South Wales Population and Health Services Research Ethics Committee (reference, 2013/11/494) and the federal Department of Human Services External Request Evaluation Committee. An estimated 259 700 intravenous iron dispensing claims were made for 190 490 women of reproductive age during 2013–2017; the annual number of dispensing claims increased from 17 920 in 2013 to 97 040 in 2017, and the annual rate of intravenous iron dispensing rose from 0.4 per 100 women in 2013 to 2.1 claims per 100 women in 2017 (Box). By iron type, 187 800 dispensing claims were for ferric carboxymaltose (72.3%), 71 110 for iron polymaltose (27.4%), and 790 for iron sucrose (0.3%). Most preparations were prescribed by general practitioners (111 870 claims, 43%), specialists (54 640 claims, 21%), and other medical practitioners (50 868 claims, 20%). The number of dispensing claims increased with age (18–24 years, 1.6 per 100 women; 35–44 years, 2.5 per 100 women). In 2017, intravenous iron was dispensed to one in fifty Australian women of reproductive age, five times the proportion in 2013; in 2017, 90% of these women received ferric carboxymaltose. The optimal rate of intravenous iron treatment is unknown, and there are no comparable overseas data. As possible adverse outcomes include permanent skin staining and the risk (albeit rare) of potentially fatal anaphylaxis,5 intravenous iron should be administered in settings where allergic reactions can be treated promptly, but whether this is generally the case is not known. Intravenous iron therapy for women of reproductive age also has considerable financial implications: based on average PBS prices,6 its total annual cost increased 35‐fold, from $0.75 million in 2013 to $26.9 million in 2017. However, we have probably underestimated the use of intravenous iron therapy, as we included only PBS‐subsidised dispensing, which may not include preparations administered to public hospital inpatients. The reasons for the rise in the use of intravenous iron are unclear, but may include increased awareness of patient blood management guidelines, the ease of treatment, and the perception that its side effect profile is more favourable than for oral iron therapy. The rapid growth raises concerns about whether it is being employed appropriately and cost‐effectively, given the potential harms and the lack of strong evidence for its value for improving quality of life and reproductive health outcomes. Box – Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme dispensing claims for intravenous iron preparations for women aged 18–44 years, Australia, 2013–2017 *The small numbers of dispensing claims for iron sucrose are not separately depicted, but were included when calculating the rates of dispensing.
Antonia W Shand · Jane Bell · Amanda Henry · Luke E Grzeskowiak · Giselle Kidson‐Gerber · Sallie Pearson · Natasha Nassar
Narrative review
Clinical trials for the prevention and treatment of COVID‐19: current state of play
Since COVID-19 emerged in December 2019, over 1100 clinical studies have been registered globally, including over 500 RCTs
Joshua S Davis · David Ferreira · Justin T Denholm · Steven YC Tong
Letters
Protecting the rare during a rare pandemic
To the Editor: The great complexity and unmet need in rare diseases is highly challenging for the estimated two million Australians with a rare disease.1 The coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID‐19) pandemic has created enormous health, social and economic burdens, exacerbating the challenges and uncertainty facing people with severe, chronic and often disabling rare disease. Systemic, nuanced, flexible and coordinated responses are required. The vulnerability of rare disease patients is evidenced by the preliminary results of a global survey of over 5000 mostly European rare disease patients,2 which found that nine out of ten patients are experiencing interrupted care because of COVID‐19. Issues include frequent cancellation or postponement of surgeries and transplants, allied health and primary care or specialist appointments, and interrupted psychiatric care. There are reports of losing access to in‐home and hospital therapies and diagnostics, and of closures of hospitals and units that provide ongoing rare disease care. Over half of respondents with access to follow‐up care through hospitals chose not to attend in fear of contracting COVID‐19. Despite a relatively smaller Australian COVID‐19 burden, these sentiments are echoed locally. The Australian National Strategic Action Plan for Rare Diseases1 has three pillars: awareness and education; care and support; and research and data. This policy framework underpins rational, evidence‐based and evolving responses for Australians with a rare disease. The peak body, Rare Voices Australia, drew on the Action Plan to formulate a statement3 outlining measures to ensure the rare disease community is protected and considered in the national COVID‐19 response. Issues addressed in the statement include triage; clinical care guidelines informed by rare disease experts; continuity and coordination of care; stricter isolation and enhanced testing; and increased utilisation of digital health, including virtual clinics and telemedicine. Subsequently, Rare Voices Australia also called for governments to exercise flexibility around school attendance for rare disease families. Positively, the European survey2 revealed increased participation in telemedicine, with a high degree of satisfaction. Australian rare disease specialist clinics have historically provided care over vast distances. Australia's transition to telehealth therefore provides an opportunity to connect with families, particularly those with huge disease burden, within their community. This may enable transition to more person‐centred health care, a foundation principle of the Action Plan.
Gareth S Baynam · Carol Wicking · Kaustuv Bhattacharya · Nicole Millis
Tracking, tracing, trust: contemplating mitigating the impact of COVID‐19 through technological interventions
To the Editor: The use of Bluetooth‐enabled apps like Australia's COVIDSafe to contact trace people exposed to coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID‐19) raises challenging moral and public health questions. Leins and colleagues1 rightly note that such tracing may endanger human rights. Yet the ethical decisions for governments and citizens are complex. The absence of vaccines and effective treatments, and the significant asymptomatic transmission of SARS‐CoV‐2, compels reliance on traditional tactics of social distancing, quarantine and contact tracing.2,3 Although the added value of digital contact tracing over manual tracing remains uncertain, even marginal improvements may interrupt disease transmission, save lives and improve public health resourcing. This could especially benefit vulnerable and disadvantaged people who suffer disproportionate harms,4 without treating digital contact tracing as a “silver bullet”. Whether, and which, digital contact tracing options are warranted depends on tough cost–benefit judgements. COVIDSafe's centralised storage of data on Amazon's servers facilitates access by governments with extraordinary power to interfere in citizens’ lives. Alternatively, decentralised data storage on smartphones has privacy advantages — but providing individual app users with the discretion to act on notifications of potential exposure to COVID‐19 may compromise disease control efforts. A hard choice exists between allowing personal data to be accessible by democratically elected governments versus powerful technology giants like Apple and Google which support decentralised data storage.5 Even greater invasions of privacy have been proposed, however, with location tracking options such as Norway's Smittestopp app (https://helsenorge.no/coronavirus/smittestopp) promoted as necessary to understand community interactions and the effects of social distancing policies for current (and future) outbreaks. While Leins and colleagues highlight significant ethical drawbacks, a full ethical analysis of digital contact tracing must also weigh its potential benefits. Certainly, citizens should agitate for strong protections to prevent abuse of power and misuse of personal information. However, even when governments offer ethically suboptimal contact tracing options, it may be permissible and even a moral requirement, all things considered, for citizens to support options to help protect the community. For its part, the Australian government should recognise that deploying digital tracing without sufficient transparency and community and expert input leaves citizens with harder moral decisions.
Simon Coghlan · Marc Cheong · Benjamin Coghlan
Tracking, tracing, trust: contemplating mitigating the impact of COVID‐19 through technological interventions
In reply
Christopher Culnane · Kobi Leins · Benjamin IP Rubinstein
Routine glucose assessment in the emergency department for detecting unrecognised diabetes: a cluster randomised trial
To the Editor: We congratulate Cheung and colleagues1 on their large cluster randomised trial of routine blood glucose and automated glycated haemoglobin (HbA1c) testing in emergency departments. This trial reaffirmed the high prevalence of unrecognised diabetes in patients presenting to the emergency department, while demonstrating the feasibility of algorithmic detection. However, the rate of documented follow‐up plans in patients with suspected or newly diagnosed diabetes was low and did not benefit from the trial intervention. Cheung and colleagues1 and Hare and Shaw,2 in their accompanying editorial, suggest that this may relate to diabetes services already operating at full capacity or to overburdened staff documenting abbreviated plans at discharge. The trial highlights the difficulty in improving outcomes when multiple non‐integrated health professionals manage a condition and, hence, the importance of continuity of care. The RAPIDS trial3 was an early intervention model of care consisting of integrated continuous acute diabetes care provided by a dedicated, proactive specialist inpatient diabetes team (IDT). The intervention involved an IDT using a networked blood glucose meter system to remotely identify inpatients with diabetes (known and newly diagnosed) to directly manage these patients, compared with usual care, where diabetes management was mostly provided by parent unit teams.3 This trial showed that direct diabetes management by a dedicated IDT improved glycaemia and decreased the rate of hospital‐acquired infections. During the RAPIDS trial, in patients with newly discovered hyperglycaemia (random capillary glucose > 11.1 mmol/L without known diabetes), treatment and follow‐up plans were documented in 11/34 patients (33%) with usual care, comparable to findings by Cheung et al. However, with the IDT intervention, 22/28 patients (79%) had treatment and follow‐up plans. Similarly, in patients with newly diagnosed diabetes (HbA1c ≥ 6.5%), diabetes treatment was commenced in 8/17 patients (47%) with usual care, and in 11/12 patients (92%) with IDT intervention3 (unpublished data). It is likely that the presence of an IDT at one of the control hospitals in the trial by Cheung and colleagues contributed significantly to the improved plan documentation in that arm. We thus echo the editorial and professional society voices asserting the importance of resourcing clinical services for diabetes in Australian hospitals.4 Establishing IDTs in our hospitals will enable excellent diabetes care despite the increasing prevalence of this disease in Australia.
Spiros Fourlanos · Rahul Barmanray · Mervyn Kyi
Routine glucose assessment in the emergency department for detecting unrecognised diabetes: a cluster randomised trial
In reply
N Wah Cheung · Lesley V Campbell · Sandy Middleton
Australia: an island in a sea of measles
Kirsten M Williamson · Tony Merritt · David N Durrheim
Australia's national COVID‐19 primary care response
Jane Desborough · Sally Hall Dykgraaf · Lucas Toca · Stephanie Davis · Leslee Roberts · Catherine Kelaher · Michael Kidd
E‐cigarette or vaping product use‐associated lung injury (EVALI): a cautionary tale
Maitri Munsif · Mark Hew · Eli Dabscheck
Tracking, tracing, trust: contemplating mitigating the impact of COVID‐19 through technological interventions
Kobi Leins · Christopher Culnane · Benjamin IP Rubinstein
Reducing stillbirth safely in Australia
Roshan Selvaratnam · Mary‐Ann Davey · Euan M Wallace
Opening the lines of communication: towards shared decision making and improved end‐of‐life care in the Top End
Emma Spencer · Eswaran Waran
Snakebite: an overlooked occupational hazard
Kuang‐Ting Chen · Chien‐Ming Chiu