Loss of Innocence (Part One- Addendum)

It was my intention to move straight to my second instalment of the saga of J's treatment at the hands of the NHS and in particular the part played by the 'Orthopod's'. However, the intervention of the furore relating to prosthetic hips has given me the opportunity to vent my spleen about the ridiculous situation that exists in the treatment of those unfortunate enough to need any form of hip surgery.

You would think that in view of the large number of procedures undertaken in the NHS that the science would be driving the procedure, when in fact it is more custom and practise tinged heavily with vested interests and hubris. Orthopods (Orthopaedic Surgeon's) are generally viewed by Medicine, even other Surgeons as lacking in subtlety and intelligence. My view is somewhat more colourful and I view them as 'butchers' more than surgeons. Sure, it's a hard job, requiring physical strength and endurance, almost as much as skill because of the need to saw, hammer, drill and slice, with instruments more akin to a construction site and a butchers shop than an operating theatre. And the repair (or often not) of damaged hips epitomises this more than any other procedure. Dealing with hip trauma is probably the most difficult and dangerous procedure any surgeon undertakes. It is important then that the patient is paramount in the evaluation of which path to pursue as regards the protocol that is most efficacious.

It is not beyond my purview that many 'orthopods' are failed Rugby players, not that I attach any significance to that, except to say that their adherence to scientific evidence as a tenet of their professional conduct is perhaps somewhat lacking.  It may sometimes be evident that their judgement of certain medical devices might be coloured by the presentation they last 'endured' in Barbados about the latest implantable device from one of the many makers of such engineering masterpieces (sic). One of these, of course is Depuy, a subsidiary of Johnson and Johnson (a family company). They make the 'Pinnacle' implant, which is a MOM (metal on metal) device using cobalt chrome, and this has been indicted as being subject to early failure. And more importantly, (I feel) of causing the migration into the bloodstream, bone and other tissues, of wear particles that are potentially life threatening in a number of ways.

The BMJ in conjunction with Newsnight undertook a study recently that highlighted this problem that is faced by a number of  'younger' patients who have been ill served by the installation of this design of prosthesis into their acetabulum. In truth the BMJ article is somewhat more comprehensive in it's condemnation of the device than was Paxman in the interview with the head 'honcho' of the MHRA who, it would seem had full knowledge of the 2010 recall by Depuy of it's ASR implant (Pinnacle) but seems to have done little about it. Nonetheless I did enjoy Paxman's taking Kent Wood's to task about the fundamentally supine attitude of his organisation when it comes to 'approving' medical devices, which essentially amounts to a review of the specification provided by the makers, because there are few if any clinical trials undertaken, except using the patient cohort as 'guinea pigs'.

As an engineer first and biologist second (but linking the two), I cannot understand how anyone would recommend the installation of any ball and socket device, in the human made from cobalt chrome that will be subject to metal on metal wear or indeed any frictional wear. The cobalt element of the  material does have high strength, coupled with excellent corrosion resistance, but whilst it's salts are used by most animals especially ruminants, at high levels it can be toxic and it's compounds have been responsible for cardiomyopathy (heart muscle disease) in humans. Chromium is also quite toxic in its (VI) form except at very low levels and is a known carcinogen as well as being responsible for damage to the kidneys, liver and blood cells. Having said that, if this material had only been utilised for non-frictional component parts it is unlikely that there would have been a problem, but friction in metal to metal bearings throws off metal ions, eroding interfaces which increases gaps in mating surfaces thus introducing 'free play'. This is of course exponential, so the more wear the more the acceleration of that wear. The consequent contamination of the tissue surrounding the acetabulum and femoral stem and migration of these metal ions into the bloodstream promotes high levels of bone loss, cement collar erosion, cartilage damage, and many other toxic side effects that have yet to be fully evaluated.

When you introduce any 'foreign' body or substance into any living organism you have to be very sure that by so doing you are not making matters worse, but obviously this did not seem to impinge upon the corporate 'psyche' of J and J. Greed seems to have been the driving force and don't forget this company had last quarter earnings of $16.3 billion despite having to pay out $3 billion for the Pinnacle debacle in the US.

This design of implant was targeted at the younger audience and was sold as a 'low wear' prosthetic so as to avoid the need for revision surgery because this cohort tends to be physically very active. Activity promotes wear in any joint be it in humans' or in machinery, unless you can regularly lubricate that joint. There is some value in the concept of synovial fluid performing this function (the hip joints natural lubricant and hydraulic 'cushion'), but as this 'capsule' has effectively to be 'burst' during surgery for access, it is unlikely to function as it was designed by nature thereafter. The simple truth is that in our haste to address the increasing needs of an ageing and increasingly joint challenged society we have lost sight of many of the needs attendant upon the production of manufactured  joints for implanting. And sadly it is not just in the metal to metal prosthetics that we have a problem.Many different materials have been tried over the years, especially plastics, sintered metals and ceramics. If one views success as being a bearing surface that does not wear out at all, and what wear does take place as being entirely benign, manufacturers have failed. Failed miserably in this context because all arthroplasty components have a finite life, so except in elderly patients, they are unlikely not to need revision at least once and in young patients possibly more.

UHMWPE has been the material of choice especially the newer 'crosslinked' varieties, for the manufacture of joint surfaces for some years now. Ultra high molecular weight polyethylene displays admirable self lubricating properties together little moisture absorption and considerable strength. But combinations of both this, ceramics and other metals have been tried, to come up with this goal of the perfect implant. None, including UHMWPE is devoid of particulate contamination of the tissue and blood of the recipient, although this last one is probably more benign than others. None are entirely so, and all wear is at a rate in proportion to the amount of use. So active people wear their implants out quicker.

As regards the NHS; well they invariably go for the cheapest they can get away with, THA (total hip arthroplasty) using cemented stems and UHMWPE bearing surfaces is usually the type most will get for either trauma repair or elective surgery, generally for osteoarthritis of the hip. Except for non-displaced or slightly displaced fractures, when the waters become extremely muddied. This is because of the payment system that prevails in trauma care which is based on a tariff for the most expensive treatment involved in a hospital 'stay', and the desire to keep the costs low, avoid re-admission and get rid of you as soon as possible. Trauma patients 'bugger up' the system, take up unplanned beds and play havoc with operating lists and theatre time allocations. If you aren't fixed quickly it costs more than the tariff. If they do something that's possibly short term, even if it's in your best interest as a patient, it's likely not to happen. If you are re-admitted for something that's a result of your initial admission, they won't get paid for it, so you are a burden.

This has resulted on many occasions in the almost complete lack of hip repairs in trauma patients because of the incidence of failure. This is despite the fact that preservation of the native acetabulum and femoral head is the ideal solution. Failure rates of hip repairs are the subject of much conjecture but they are only about 25% in reasonably healthy people up to 65 or 70 years. They are also quick to do, much less traumatic, and can be undertaken, often without general anaesthetic, and sometimes without incision. Generally this requires nails or screws to fasten the joint together which are then left in place. If this fails, then you can go on to have a full procedure at a more leisurely pace and not as an emergency. But it won't happen, because if it fails, the Hospital involved will not get paid for the subsequent and much more expensive procedure to fix it because the 'system' attributes the blame to them. You will also have a longer recovery time as your leg will not be load bearing for some time, but you will be in possession of the best hip joint there is; your own! What you will likely receive for trauma, even if the fracture is so slightly displaced as to seem much like a 'crack', is the Hemiarthroplasty; the worst of all prostheses, because it's cheap, has a short operating window, and is likely to last five or six years, so they will be beyond the date whereby failure would not be paid for under the tariff.

The NHS likes this implant despite it's short life because it also has a lower dislocation rate, can be installed by relatively lowly surgeons and through the side of the hip. This is despite the fact that more damage to the muscles and cartilage ensues in this approach. In addition as this implant simply is a metal ball, sometimes with a plastic floating cup (bipolar version) which is literally 'pushed' into the acetabulum. It also brings in some cash from the Primary Care doctors for monitoring X-rays that have to be taken to check up on wear of the bony cup that is the acetabulum. It's almost beyond belief that anyone would consign a patient to receive a big metal ball 'stuffed' into a bone socket that's absolutely certain to wear away and cause pain in quite short order as it articulates with movement. Metal on bone; it doesn't take a scientist to work out which will wear first, especially in a younger, active patients, now does it? Alright, for the 85 year old with little in the way of exercise and a number of co-morbidity's, it may, just maybe justified after a fall, but as a first line treatment for most it's a cynical manipulation of guidelines and flies in the face of good practise and the welfare of the patient to reap the reward of the tariff.

Hip joints are one of the wonders of nature. They are a 'ball and socket' certainly, but one that has an interference fit that has a regenerative liner of cartilage and a fluid cushion that acts like the hydraulic fluid in a shock absorber, being 'squeezed' out and in as you walk and load the joint. As engineers we haven't even got close to this model nor are we ever likely to. There's no demand, well not from the medic's, the NHS and certainly not Big Pharma's devices wing. The patients, well we're the last people they care about, so long as the 'gravy train' keeps rolling. J and J's rubbish prosthesis is symptomatic of the 'device industry' and the final irony, as I keep hammering on about, is that most of these devices are implanted in women, because the female hip has much more 'articulation' than that of men to enable child birth, rendering their hips more liable to breakage. So women, often elderly women or those viewed as elderly by the NHS are the main recipients especially of 'hemi's', often when they and their peers see them as 'mature'. More misogyny, heavily tinged with ageism. Well there's a surprise!

Loss of Innocence ( 7 days in June).

(Part One)

For one of quite some age such as I, it was strange to lose my innocence. The events were so profoundly life changing that I was caught up in a whirlwind of doubt, dysfunction and misery. My career, what was left of it, my control of events and even my very life became threatened by a calamitous and traumatic sequence of events that came to pass, at the hands of the NHS.

I had until that time had some respect for that bastion of Healthcare, probably because I had used it infrequently and when I had, my expectations were quite low because that which was wrong with me had little in the way of a cure. Osteoarthritis, glaucoma and cataracts can be ameliorated but completely cured, no. I never expected it and Healthcare did not let me down, especially when it came to the cataract, that was made worse by lens implant. Posterior Vitreous Detachment it was called, made all the worse by that short window before it's occurrence when I saw real colour's for the first time in years. Such a revelation; the world was so bright and vivid, well for 48 hours anyway. Then it hit, and from that day and henceforth, life was to be viewed through a mist; a fine net curtain, obscuring detail and it's recognition.

I was already quite depressed at that time, with my life already falling apart at the domestic level, as it had been for years, but I had ignored it by immersing myself in an arduous routine of work and more work, not wishing to address the pain because that way it wouldn't hurt. I did decide that any further eye surgery would likely be counterproductive so I settled down to live with what was left, and then tried to address my life before the remainder slipped through my fingers.

And I did; I found a sort of happiness, that gradually replaced the pointlessness I had felt that slowly swelled and for the first time in more years than I remembered, plans started to form. The NHS; well they had made a mistake, but it wasn't life threatening and we all make mistakes after all. I didn't bother complaining very much and accepted the explanation that PVD was always possible when ultrasound is used to remove the old lens. Pity no-one had informed me it was possible, but hey-ho them's the breaks.Then,one summer day in June I learnt that the NHS's hubris (and mine) had consequences that can reverberate throughout your life, and that colossal mendacity is practised daily, along with cognitive errors that can only be judged as incompetence (or stupidity).

She, with whom I will end my days, was off in front, pushing on up the hill, pedals whizzing round, whilst I paused, foot on the ground, gasping for the air that effort had stolen from my lungs. Then, with graceful ease, almost in slow motion, she fell from the bike and landed heavily on her side. With increasing fear, I dropped my cycle and staggered over to her, my breathlessness no longer from effort but panic. She was white with pain and emitting low screams. I tried to help her up but the pain was too great. I made her as comfortable as possible with my jacket under her head. Her pulse was racing, breath coming in short pants; she was definitely in shock. Fumbling with the damn (not so) 'smart phone' I cursed it's stupid step logic, but finally got through to the Ambulance Service and told the story almost screaming for help. It seemed a lifetime in arriving and all I could do was to keep her warm and still and feel inadequate.

I suppose I knew already what was wrong. Foot turned out, unable to move her left leg and in great pain, it had be a femur fracture and worst; probably at the top, the dreaded hip fracture. It took three of us to get her into the ambulance using a crude device of a blanket to help immobilise the joint and with blue's and two's slowly drove down the hill (yes that hill) to A&;E. All throughout the journey I found myself praying to a God I didn't even believe in, for her to be alright, that it could be a dislocation, that she would be home tonight or tomorrow at worst. I was of course wrong, and no God was listening to my prayers, as always.

At last ensconced in a cubicle, her ordeal began. It took nearly three hours for an X-ray, just after she got some Paracetamol (Acetaminophen; as if that was going to be of much use). More than four hours to even see a 'doctor' (some FY1 child), who didn't really say much, partly because her English was somewhat poor, and partly because she was out of her depth. The notes got lost, then they were the wrong ones, as I pointed out that J' was not a teenage male with a broken arm. This caused some consternation and after that I never saw any notes in evidence. Some four hours in, she was given IV morphine but not until (apparently) she had an ECG; this came to light only after perusal of the notes some six months later, but as neither I nor her witnessed any such event I very much doubt it. Also she had a 'ghost' chest X-ray, of which she has no recall as no machine was placed over her chest only her pelvis, but again that only came to light much later.

After some six hours from admission, some nurse or other (we had seen a few) informed us both that J' had a broken hip which by this time the cleaner could have diagnosed. What type she did not say. She did say that an operation would be needed to 'fix' it, but again did not say what type. So ill informed and bemused we were shown up to a ward. Through what seemed miles of corridors and one lift journey we arrived and I was placed on a chair at an unlit corner of the nurses station to ponder and stress about what was to come. My brain was racing through the likely short and long term outcomes and I was searching my memory for long forgotten learning of the human anatomy and biology from nearly fourty years before. I filled in the admission form for J', ensuring I noted her problems (she had a 'stiff' arthritic left knee from a riding accident from twenty years before) and intake of any med's, which was only a high Omega 3 supplement. An hour later, which seemed forever, I was summoned to her bedside through the darkened ward bay and into the curtained area that surrounded her.

She was in tears. Without me there to support and question anything; J' is primarily an Accountant, with no knowledge of anything remotely related to Medicine or Health, she was confused and distraught. And yet I had been excluded whilst some Surgical 'on call' FY2 had explained some of what was needed for her operation and had asked for a signature of consent. Being presbiopic and without her reading glasses she had then requested my presence, which is likely the only reason I had been called at all. She asked for my help and passed the form to me to peruse. I clearly recall it as being one sheet of paper simply requesting consent for anaesthesia and little else, this was to turn out to be critical but by that time 2 am, with no food and little water, up since 6.30 am the previous day, we were both somewhat 'punch drunk'. The very young (and very beautiful) black woman who faced me explained in halting English, what was to occur in the morning. It was garbled, almost incoherent but the word 'hemi' kept coming out. I didn't have a clue. After some patient questioning by me it transpired she meant that J' needed a half hip replacement which was some sort of repair. Thinking, in my orthopaedic ignorance, that half was better than whole I suggested that we had little choice than to concur and J' signed.

I then spent half an hour with her, before they decided to kick me out, clinging to her, not wanting to say goodbye, with a sense of doom coming over me. I left my contact details with the nurse on duty and took the number to contact the ward stating that they must let me see her before the 'op'. I know how capricious a general anaesthetics effect can be, but despite my advice J' had said she did not want to be 'awake' when they sliced her thigh open. I explained she would not be awake as such as she would be liberally plied with tranquilisers as well as the regional anaesthesia but she would have none of it. That, I had to admit made me a little resentful (sic), but it's her body and I knew she was quite squeamish, so I pressed her no more.

I wandered through the long corridors and found an exit eventually. I found the car I had illegally parked in the empty disabled car park, with my Police ID prominently displayed on the dash. The parking Gestapo had consequently ignored it and I made my escape; well I tried to. I was so wound up, so preoccupied (and knackered) that I went round the perimeter road twice before I found an exit to the real world; where people could walk, laugh and get drunk, which is what I wanted to do, right then, more than anything.

I entered the empty flat and went straight for the Rum. I hardly diluted it at all, just tipped a small slug of Cola into the half full glass. I sat in the window, with it wide open, staring into the night, or what little was left of it. An impending sense of doom was all I could feel. Thus far my experience of the Hospital was one of confusion and incompetence; like a ship steering through a storm with no-one at the helm. I was frightened that my sight of J', in that bed might actually be my last. And I now had little confidence that the outcome would be good, whatever happened. I felt like the last man on the Planet, and I was scared, no terrified, that I could be losing her after years of letting her down. Had I let her down again? In the next few days I was to find that was the least of her problems. Because the NHS was much more adept in that than was I. And what was that the paramedic had said, "how do you control your diabete's?", what the hell was that about?

Note to reader; this is too hard for one instalment, even after three years. It would also be too long. You will find some of it so unbelievable that I could not make it up. 'On the Ward' will be posted soon.