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What would you do?
Real cases from Dr Kevin
Pottie's immigrant healthcare practice
- A 25-year-old HIV-positive
woman from Uganda presents for health prevention
and immunizations. She is well and has never
received treatment. She lives with her husband
and two stepchildren, and mentions tension in
her marriage because of her diagnosis.
- A 62-year-old Burmese man
presents with a sore throat and bloody sputum.
He spent six years in a refugee camp, close
to starvation and arrived in Canada with a history
of bright red blood passed rectally. Past examination
by barium enema and flexible sigmoidoscopy was
unremarkable. Recent tests show his blood count
was significant for an absolute eosinophil level
of 0.63109 per L.
- A 37-year-old rural Somali
refugee presents with a limp, an atrophied left
leg and a six-foot wooden staff.
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Tied to the roof, she was forced
to watch as her husband was tortured to death beside
her. Her two children were nowhere to be seen. Finished
with her husband, the attackers moved on, joining the
growing mob spreading violence and terror across the
countryside. It was 2002; the Ivory Coast civil war
had begun.
That woman was one of Dr Lavanya
Narasiah's first patients.
Haunted by visions of her husband
on the roof, experiencing physical symptoms likely tied
to post-traumatic stress disorder and still unsure of
her children's fate, the woman decided to flee the country
as the violence continued. Her children were safe, she
learned, hidden far away by sympathetic neighbours.
She set out for Canada.
"There are so many things ethically
you can't do, like giving her money or getting involved
personally," Dr Narasiah says. "But it's almost like
those rules don't count. If I had cash on me, I would
give her what I had."
Dr Narasiah, a young woman of Indian
heritage, is a family physician in Montreal who specializes
in refugee healthcare at the city's main clinic for
such patients.
UNIQUE
DEMANDS
That Ivorian woman was one of some 230,000 immigrants
and refugees who arrive in Canada every year
a population with medical and social needs as diverse
as the hundreds of countries they come from. "You're
really dealing with the complexities of the world in
this field," says Dr Kevin Pottie, a University of Ottawa
family medicine professor and one of Canada's leading
experts in a developing discipline called Migration
Medicine and Health. Doctors who specialize in caring
for migrant populations must learn an entirely new set
of skills, above and beyond their medical training.
Not surprisingly, there's a drastic
shortage of doctors with such training a shortage
that may be even more pronounced in family medicine,
according to Dr Pottie. The reasons, he says, are that
the field is particularly complex and has not received
a great deal of national attention.
CULTURAL
BARRIERS
Immigrants and refugees comprise 19% of the total population
and account for fully 60% of the country's population
growth. The majority of new arrivals are in good health,
but a basic cultural divide can endanger the crucial
level of trust between doctor and patient, and therefore
the quality of care.
One of the biggest barriers to
providing effective care is the immigrants' failure
to negotiate the Canadian healthcare system, which can
be confusing for people from disparate backgrounds or
who can't speak English or French fluently. Those patients
are at risk of being alienated from the system and may
very well end up without a family doctor, relying on
ER and walk-in clinic visits, or dropping off the radar
altogether.
To improve immigrant patients'
access to and compliance with the Canadian system, Dr
Pottie and Dr Narasiah agree that treatment must be
adjusted to fit their expectations. "The standards of
care could be correct but the mediation to the approach
may be missing," Dr Pottie explains. Dr Narasiah's practice
incorporates social workers, nurses and cultural mediators
people who understand the patients' home countries'
healthcare system as well as the Canadian one.
MENTAL
HEALTH
That first visit with an immigrant or refugee patient
can be demanding, lasting well beyond the typical 8-minute
consult to an almost unimaginable 45 minutes or an hour.
Patients' medical records are often either incomplete,
unclear or entirely absent. The Canadian government
will have already screened applicants from overseas
refugee camps for tuberculosis, HIV, syphilis and other
conditions that could place a large burden on the Canadian
healthcare system. But immunization and medical history
reports are unlikely to be comprehensive.
With such little information to
go on, it's important to pick up on non-verbal communication
during the visit, says Dr Narasiah, and to ask lots
of questions about mental health. "Even if they just
come in for stomach pain or something small, it could
be related to post-traumatic stress disorder or depression.
We told our nurses to ask about sleep problems and diet
and about eight times out of ten, something comes up."
In some cultures, women will not
discuss sexual or reproductive issues when a man is
present. And likewise, some men will not disclose sexual
or mental health issues to female interpreters or doctors.
It's important to try to accommodate patients' cultural
beliefs if you can arrange it, says Dr Narasiah.
"IT'S
THE PASSION"
One of the biggest hurdles for doctors working in immigrant
and refugee healthcare to overcome is the lack of available
training. "There are many doctors in Canada who have
experience and knowledge in the field," says Dr Pottie,
"but most of that has not been effectively translated
in training or CME."
He's currently developing evidence-based
guidelines and clinical tools through his Ottawa-based
Immigrant Health Network, with funding from the Public
Health Agency of Canada. With help from colleagues,
he has created a checklist intended to help train students
and young doctors on how to care for immigrants that's
already being used in 10 clinics across Canada, as well
as preventive care handouts for immigrants and their
doctors.
Dr Narasiah's clinic is also finalizing
a set of clinical guidelines for treating refugees.
It's not easy work, she says, and
there's not enough government support for doctors who
do it. "It's the passion that keeps me in it. We're
paid by the hour so this isn't where you go to make
money," she says. "We don't even have a secretary for
eight doctors. We do our letters by hand. It's really,
really tough, but I couldn't see myself working anywhere
else. The rewarding part is working with the people."
To request a copy of Dr Pottie's
immigrant care guidelines, email [email protected].
To request Dr Narasiah's refugee care guidelines, call
514-731-8531.
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Dr Lavanya Narasiah's
Sri Lankan refugee case
"I saw this man from Sri Lanka.
He had been a businessman and had three kids and
a wife. Some people mistook him for being involved
in political activity and began sending him death
threats; his family went into hiding and he was
forced to leave the country. That's when he came
to Montreal. His wife was going through deep depression
and he told me he was afraid of her mental health
situation. He was really going through a tough
time. I didn't know what to do so I said, 'Give
me her email,' and I started emailing her. Nothing
medical I just gave her encouragement,
to tell her to hang in there. I realized that
ethically it wouldn't pass with the College, but
these are things you are compelled to do.
"Not long after, in 2004, the
house where his family lived was threatened by
the tsunami and they fled. Watching it all from
here, the man was going almost insane. He was
so worried that he hadn't washed or eaten in three
days when I finally got him to come in to the
clinic; he was confused, paralyzed with fear.
Finally his family called and said they were fine.
Even though it's supposed to be a one-year wait,
the man's refugee application still hadn't been
accepted after three years. A few weeks after
the tsunami, he was accepted and he was able to
apply for his family to come over. A year after
that, the family arrived. I signed his passport."
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