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ICU and You  ·  Journal Club  ·  Number 100

The sixteenth birthday

37,320 adolescent intensive care admissions, and the day the unit changes

Wood D, Goodwin S, Pappachan J, Davis P, Parslow R, Harrison D, Ramnarayan P. Characteristics of adolescents requiring intensive care in the United Kingdom: a retrospective cohort study. Journal of the Intensive Care Society 2018;19(3):209–213.

Type  Retrospective national cohort, two audit databases Where  United Kingdom — all PICUs, and 212 adult general critical care units When  Eight years, 2007 to 2014 Size  37,320 admissions, aged 12 to 19
Read the paper

Free full text. Four pages, three tables and one figure — and the figure is the paper. Admissions by single year of age, children's unit against adult unit. If you read nothing else, look at that.

Why bother with the journals at all

Because they are the news. Not the formal, ceremonial version of reading — the daily kind. The journals are our news pages, our opinion columns, our form guide and our sports results. People who would not dream of going a week without knowing what happened in the world will go a year without knowing what happened in their own specialty, and then wonder why the registrar knows something they do not.

It does not have to be a session. You do not need an hour, a highlighter or a plan. Read the abstracts. Skim the contents page of one journal while the kettle boils. Open the one paper in ten that looks interesting and abandon it at paragraph three if it is not. Nobody is marking this.

What matters is staying curious rather than staying current — nobody is current, and the people who claim to be are reading less than they say. What you are actually maintaining is the habit of noticing: that a question is open, that a practice has shifted, that somebody has published the thing you were arguing about last month.

And then do the part that makes it stick. Mention it on a ward round. Argue about it with somebody who disagrees. Ask what the study could not have shown. A paper read alone is half a paper.

Publish or perish is the line we all know. The quieter one is this: absorb it, or lose your edge.

The question

Where should a critically ill fifteen-year-old be looked after? Not in principle — in practice, tonight, in the hospital you are standing in. The United Kingdom answered that with a line: under sixteen to the paediatric intensive care unit, sixteen and over to the adult one. That line has been policy since a Department of Health document in 1997.

This paper is the first to go and look at what actually happens. Not what the policy says, but where 37,320 adolescents were actually admitted over eight years, what was wrong with them when they arrived, how long they stayed and how many died.

What they did

Two national audit databases, which between them capture nearly everything. The Case Mix Programme holds the adult units — 212 of them, about 94 per cent of general critical care units in England, Wales and Northern Ireland. The Paediatric Intensive Care Audit Network holds every paediatric unit in England, Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. Both were searched for every admission aged 12 to 19 between January 2007 and December 2014.

37,320

admissions over eight years, about 4,600 a year

13%

were in the “wrong” unit by the age rule

6.0 / 5.7

per cent mortality, paediatric against adult

Numbers in each setting were remarkably similar overall — about 18,400 admissions to adult units and about 18,900 to paediatric ones. Strip out elective surgery, though, and the picture changes: 16,830 emergency admissions to adult units against 10,612 to paediatric ones. A great deal of what fills a children's unit is planned.

What happens on the birthday

The policy is followed most of the time. Some 83 per cent of twelve to fifteen year olds went to a paediatric unit, and 90 per cent of sixteen to nineteen year olds went to an adult one. But the interesting part is the shape of the transition, and it is not a slope.

At fifteen

2,367 admissions to a paediatric unit, 865 to an adult one. Roughly three in four are children.

At sixteen

985 to a paediatric unit, 2,506 to an adult one. Roughly one in four is a child.

At nineteen

47 to a paediatric unit, 4,647 to an adult one. Essentially nobody is a child.

Nothing happens to a person between the last day of being fifteen and the first day of being sixteen. The physiology does not move, the family does not change, the disease does not know. What changes is which building they are taken to, who is trained in what, whether the ward round uses their first name, whether a parent can stay overnight, and whether anybody on the unit has looked after somebody their age this month.

What comes in the door — and it is not the same illness

Excluding elective surgery, the two settings are seeing genuinely different adolescents.

What the authors think is really going on

Clinicians are not triaging by age. They are triaging by diagnosis, and the age rule is being quietly overruled by it.

A fifteen-year-old with an “adult” problem — major trauma, a deliberate overdose — gets looked after locally in the adult unit, because an adult intensivist is confident with that problem and because the stay will be short. A seventeen-year-old with a complex childhood-onset illness stays under the paediatric team, because that is where the expertise for their underlying condition lives. Both decisions are defensible. Neither is what the policy says.

The question the study could not answer

Which is better? The paper is admirably direct about this: it cannot say. Unadjusted mortality was 6.0 per cent in paediatric units and 5.7 per cent in adult ones, and those two numbers should not be compared, because the two databases do not use comparable mortality risk scoring. There is no correction for severity of acute illness and none for the burden of chronic illness — and we have just established that the two populations differ systematically in exactly those respects.

Read this one carefully

Two raw mortality figures that are almost identical will be quoted as if they settled the question. They do not. The adolescents in adult units are more often trauma and overdose with short stays; the adolescents in paediatric units more often have chronic disease. A crude rate cannot see any of that.

The most that can honestly be said is that nothing in this dataset suggests one setting is dramatically worse than the other — which is a much weaker and much more useful claim than the one the numbers invite.

What evidence there is comes from elsewhere. Previous studies, restricted to adolescent trauma and mostly American, have consistently found no difference in mortality between adult and paediatric centres, but a higher intervention rate in adult ones. Make of that what you will; more procedures is not automatically worse care, and it is not automatically better either.

And now the Australian question

Read this as a British paper about a British rule and it is interesting. Read it from a regional Australian hospital and it becomes something else, because the study describes a choice that a great many of us do not have.

When a fourteen-year-old arrives critically ill at a hospital several hundred kilometres from a paediatric intensive care unit, nobody triages them by diagnosis into the most appropriate setting. They go to the intensive care unit that exists. The retrieval conversation happens around them, and depending on distance, weather and the state of the child, the answer is sometimes that they stay.

Which makes the paper's closing sentence land harder here than it does where it was written: services planned for the majority of adult and paediatric intensive care patients may not be optimal for critically ill adolescents. In a regional unit, that is not a policy observation. It is a description of Tuesday.

What to take to the bedside

What to read sceptically

Challenge for you

In your hospital, where does a fifteen-year-old actually go?

Not what the policy says — what happens. And then the harder half: once they are there, who is responsible for the parts an adult unit is not built for? The consent conversation. The mental health assessment before discharge. Somebody telling the school. A parent who wants to stay overnight in a unit with no chairs that recline.

If the honest answer is that it depends who is on, say so. That is the commonest answer and it is the one worth publishing. I am especially interested in replies from regional and rural units, where the question is not which unit but whether the child stays at all.

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