For those of you who object to the existence of evolution, here’s a handy sticker to place on your health insurance card so you don’t get vaccinated by accident. Just print PDF onto sticker paper … and give extras to your like-minded friends. The flu virus is constantly evolving, so hoping these will come in handy. Or, if you don’t think the flu virus is evolving, ask for last year’s vaccine … it’s much cheaper!
Tag Archives: virus
Just a Public Service Announcement from Charles Darwin: get a flu shot now so that you’ll (likely) be alive to fret endlessly about Ebola.
And if you don’t get the vaccine and end up getting the flu, please consider quarantining yourself: you are infectious because flu is airborne and kills a lot of us (36,000+). From the CDC:
“Most healthy adults may be able to infect other people beginning 1 day before symptoms develop and up to 5 to 7 days after becoming sick. Children may pass the virus for longer than 7 days. Symptoms start 1 to 4 days after the virus enters the body. That means that you may be able to pass on the flu to someone else before you know you are sick, as well as while you are sick. Some people can be infected with the flu virus but have no symptoms. During this time, those persons may still spread the virus to others.”
(Charles Darwin painted by Carl Buell. Background mural by Borgny Bay. Photo by me.)
Because the Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital recently sent an Ebola patient home with antibacterials, I decided to update my guide to pills that kill things: I added Ebola to list of sample viruses. Some viruses can sometimes be killed with antivirals (e.g., zanamivir, oseltamivir), but viruses cannot be killed with antibacterials (e.g., azithromycin, amoxicillin). Here’s the PDF in case you want a large version to hang up in the Emergency Room lobby. I know there’s a fad of only posting information that is understandable to second graders, but I think there are some patients who would appreciate the guide. Please share with the health practitioner in your family.
As you may notice, I’ve chosen to use the word “antibacterial” instead of “antibiotic” to refer to drugs that are antibacterial. The reason is that many people ask for “antibiotics” even when they know they have a viral disease — the word suggests to many that the drug should be effective against anything biotic (bacteria, fungi, etc.). “Antibiotic” initially had that broader meaning, and Google and many other sites retain such a definition … hence the public’s persistent misunderstanding. The graphic above demonstrates that the word “antibacterial” is completely satisfactory as a drug label. Reducing confusion will reduce the number of patients demanding, and getting, antibacterials when they don’t really need them.
In my ongoing quest to show that “antibiotic” is a word that does more harm than good to public health outreach, I frequently encounter people on the Internet who insist that confusion over antibiotic efficacy is not due, at all, to the word itself. I value these people’s insight, of course, because their views certainly might be true for the planet they live on. There are probably a lot of habitable planets in the Universe (40 billion just in our galaxy!), and I don’t presume to know what reality is like for those places.
On Earth, however, the belief that antibiotics treat viruses is rampant, generates over-prescription, and is clearly related to the word itself. Here are Exhibit A (from answers.com) and Exhibit B (from Google definitions):
People believe that antibiotics treat viruses because on Earth we regularly use a word’s roots to infer meaning. So for the average person who doesn’t remember any biology from middle school, parsing the meaning of antiviral, antibacterial, antifungal, etc. is easy … as long as he/she knows what anti-, viral, bacterial, and fungal mean. But that same trick doesn’t work for antibiotic. And because people don’t realize their inference is incorrect, the misconception becomes forever entrenched in public opinion, and on the internet. The CDC (and others) waste millions of dollars each year trying to quash the misconception, but such efforts will always fail because the strength of the “antibiotics” misnomer is always truthier to the average Joe than a bunch of patronizing posters on a doctor’s waiting room wall.
[As an aside, misnomers are words (you can probably guess, based on the roots … if you live on Earth) that deliver an incorrect meaning. “Pencil lead” (two words, of course) is a great example, and there are thousands of parents each year who call their doctors in a panic after Jimmy gets stabbed during math class with a pencil. Or they search the internet for “pencil lead poisoning“. Luckily, pencil lead is graphite (always has been), a harmless crystal of carbon that is not going to cause Jimmy to be developmentally delayed.]
So how bad a misnomer is “antibiotics”? How should physicians decide whether to use “antibiotics” or “antibacterials” when discussing treatment of illnesses? Like any medical question, the decision should be evidence-based. Here is how to get the evidence (Pew Research Center folks, this means you):
Responses for questions #1 and #2 show that approximately 10% and 36% (pdf) of adults are confused about the correct answers, respectively. That’s a HUGE fraction given the daily importance of bacteria and viruses in our lives and in the news. Unfortunately, there are no poll data for #3 and #4. But my guess is that the fraction of incorrect responses for #3 and #4 will be 1% and 5%, respectively. “Antibacterials” clearly suggests the drug kills bacteria — only people unfamiliar with English might be clueless. And I’m guessing that 5% of the public think viruses are bacteria (I’ve asked dozens of virologists … and none knew of poll data on classification ignorance). No matter what the actual numbers, the level of confusion for “antibacterials” is going to be dramatically less than that caused by “antibiotics.”
So if you are a doctor hoping to improve patient understanding and patient care, using “antibacterials” is a no-brainer. And if you are worried that “antibacterial” is a rare word, stop worrying: it’s from the 1890s (that’s old!) and is found 13,200,000 times on the internet (that’s less than the 23.8 million for “antibiotic”, but still totally respectable). Don’t wait for the CDC, WHO, AMA, ACP, APA, etc. to recommend the change, because chances are they won’t — they love the word, “antibiotic” (I’ve emailed them all, trust me). So just tell your colleagues and staff on the floor to get on board. And then let me know how it goes.
Below are my other posts on the topic, if you need further convincing. All posts have graphics that you are encouraged to use for your talks on the topic (this week is Antibiotic Awareness Week, after all). Please consider sharing these links with others on Twitter and Facebook if you are on board with my suggestion, and if you can forward to impressionable medical students, you get bonus points.
- Curbing the misuse of antibiotics
- Antibiotics are antiviral
- How doctors can reduce antibiotic demands from patients
- Antibiotic Awareness Week poster
- Antibiotics work against viruses
- How to improve Antibiotic Awareness Week
- Seasonal plea for informed antibiotic usage
- Antibacterial soap
- The Walking Dead need antivirals, not antibacterials (Shopping list for anti-infectives)
- Venn guide to pills that kill things
[If you’re curious why I am so interested in this issue, it’s because I witnessed, first-hand, confusion over “antibiotics” when I lectured on antibacterial resistance in my evolution courses at Swarthmore College. My students were (largely) bright, and were often bound for medical school … yet they frequently made the same incorrect assumptions about efficacy that totally uneducated people make. Misuse of “antibiotics” became one of my pet peeves. Because I have a blog, I thought it would be worth a try to effect some change.]
New recommendations for reducing the number of patients demanding antibacterials for viral infections:
1. Remove all of the educational signage that is currently in your waiting room. It doesn’t work (more evidence), probably because most posters are targeted at elementary school brains. The average adult in the United States reads with the understanding of an 8th grader, so posters should be designed for that level, or above. What you put in your waiting room really does matter, and you (the doctor) should dictate this, not your interior decorator or office manager, even though they might have strong opinions on the matter. And be critical of all the glossy posters you can receive for free from health organizations — I’ve looked at hundreds, and the vast majority are simply awful. They should spend their money on something else.
2. Consider replacing the above posters with the document below (it’s free!). Here’s the PDF version for printing: anti-infectives-poster.pdf. Make the poster large. Place copies in the examination rooms, too. It introduces your waiting patients to the vocabulary you will use later. It will prime their brains.
3. After patient examination, how you deliver the diagnosis matters. After you tell them that they have a viral infection (flu, cold, etc.), mention that one treatment option is an antiviral (Tamiflu, for example). Saying “antiviral” is critical — it’s a word used in many television shows and movies so the public knows it. Mention why you think their infection is not bacterial. They came to office hoping to get antibacterials, so you know you have to bring it up. If they mention “what about antibiotics?,” respond that antibacterials only work against bacteria, and point to the wall chart above. I.e., use “antibacterial” not “antibiotic.” In the United States, 36% to 45% of adults believe that “antibiotics” are effective at treating viral infections (outside of the US, the number is higher). Using the word, “antibacterial” avoids this problem, completely, since people understand what the word means just given its roots. Training yourself to stop using the word “antibiotics” will be hard, but it’s worth it — the word is a big source of the over-prescription problem.
The above is my recommendation, of course. Everyone else on the planet insists on sticking with the word “antibiotics” and with patronizing, bloated signage that most likely is never read. My view is that these old strategies have not really been working, and it’s time to try something different. For more on how linguistic “levers” might reduce patient’s demands for antibacterials, see this paper (PDF).