The Decline of Tube Feeding for Dementia Patients
By Paula Span
THE NEW OLD AGE AUG. 29, 2016
THE NEW OLD AGE AUG. 29, 2016
Reprinted from: http://www.nytimes.com/
Dementia from Parkinson’s disease was taking its toll on
Joan Jewell.
She could still respond to music, if a helper wheeled her to
the Sunday concert at the Hebrew Rehabilitation Center in Boston, but she spent
most of her time in bed. Sometimes she recognized family members; often she
didn’t. She couldn’t say more than a few words. She had trouble swallowing.
Last year, her doctor pointed out that she was losing weight
and that a feeding tube, surgically inserted through her abdominal wall, might
help her regain a few pounds.
Her son James, who served as her surrogate decision maker,
responded the way a growing number of family members do: He said no. The
proportion of nursing home residents with advanced dementia who receive a
feeding tube has dropped more than 50 percent, a new national study has found.
The researchers, analyzing federal nursing home data,
reported that in 2000, nearly 12 percent of patients with this terminal
condition had feeding tubes inserted within a year of developing eating
problems. By 2014, the rate had fallen to less than 6 percent.
“It’s getting much less controversial” to decline a tube and
rely on hand feeding, said Dr. Susan Mitchell, a geriatrician and senior
scientist at the Harvard-affiliated Hebrew SeniorLife Institute for Aging
Research. “This is becoming the prevailing wisdom.”
Dr. Mitchell has had a lot to do with that shift. As a young
physician training in nursing homes, she wondered whether feeding tubes
actually helped these bedbound elders. At the time, roughly a third of
cognitively impaired nursing home residents were tube-fed.
She and a cadre of researchers, primarily from Harvard and
Brown universities, have been methodically reporting their findings for 20
years, demonstrating in one article after another the drawbacks of artificial
feeding for people in the final stages of dementia.
Change can come slowly in medicine, but it does come. In
2013, the American Geriatrics Society updated its recommendations against
feeding tubes for older patients with advanced dementia. The Choosing Wisely
campaign, which publishes lists of procedures and tests that patients and
families should question, and the Alzheimer’s Association have taken similar
positions.
Now, families and physicians seem to have gotten the
sorrowful message: Dementia is a terminal disease. Eating and swallowing
problems eventually plague almost everyone who has it. Feeding tubes don’t
help. In fact, they can make matters worse.
Consider, first, how ill these patients are. Advanced
dementia, as Dr. Mitchell and her colleagues define it, brings such profound
memory loss that people don’t recognize family. They can’t speak more than five
words. They’re incontinent. Sometimes they can’t turn over in bed unaided.
“They’re dependent on others for all their day-to-day functions,” Dr. Mitchell
said.
Even if an aide or relative patiently feeds them, “they may
not know what to do with the food in their mouths.” When they try to swallow,
they can aspirate food particles into their lungs and develop pneumonia. “For
most people, that’s a very poor quality of life,” Dr. Mitchell said.
Feeding is such a primal activity, the first thing we do
when someone is born and one of the last sources of pleasure as death
approaches. Naturally, families can find it difficult to refuse a fairly minor
surgical procedure that provides nutrition.
But a person no longer able to understand why a
gastroenterologist is opening a small hole in her belly may find the insertion
of a tube confusing and traumatic. The mush that flows through eliminates the
taste of food and the social interaction of hand feeding.
Almost 20 percent of the time, the tube is blocked or
dislodged within a year, requiring hospitalization. Dementia patients may also
try to pull it out, leading to physical or chemical restraints (read: drugs).
Feeding tubes are also associated with an increased risk of
pressure ulcers or bedsores, perhaps because they encourage inactivity or cause
diarrhea; the ulcers heal more slowly than in people without tubes.
Perhaps the trade-off would be worth it to some families
(since these patients can no longer make decisions themselves) if a feeding
tube prolonged life. For others, that would be a good reason to refuse one.
As it turns out, though, feeding tubes don’t keep advanced
dementia patients alive longer. Several studies led by Dr. Joan Teno, a geriatrician
at the University of Washington who has often collaborated with Dr. Mitchell,
show that they make no significant difference. After receiving a feeding tube,
patients with advanced dementia lived a median of 165 days, and two-thirds died
within a year.
Older adults nearing death still do receive feeding tubes,
sometimes because families insist, sometimes because health care providers
don’t offer enough information to help them decide. Stark racial differences
persist: 3 percent of white nursing home residents with dementia had feeding
tubes inserted in 2014, compared with 17.5 percent of black residents.
Feeding tubes remain more popular in certain kinds of
nursing homes, too. For-profit nursing homes use them more than nonprofits, Dr.
Mitchell’s research has shown, and bigger facilities more than small ones. In
New England, fewer than 2 percent of residents are tube-fed. In parts of the
South, the rate can run up to 10 times higher.
If you see such practices as indicators of a more aggressive
approach to end-of-life care in general (Dr. Mitchell does), then you wonder if
health care professionals spend more time talking to white families about their
options. You wonder if higher Medicare reimbursement for tube-fed patients (and
the labor costs of hand feeding) make nursing homes more apt to recommend
tubes.
But more and more, you encounter people like the Jewells.
Joan Jewell had worked as a nurse in upstate New York and
had cared for her husband as he died of Alzheimer’s disease. James Jewell, whom
she encouraged to study medicine, is an internist at the nursing home where she
lived.
Years before, when his mother could still contemplate such
matters, “we had the what-if discussions,” Dr. Jewell told me.
Mrs. Jewell was clear. “She subscribed to the idea that
quality of life was more important than being kept alive at all costs,” her son
said. “And being able to do things for herself was part of her definition of
quality of life.”
Despite her weight loss, then, he declined medical
intervention. In February, Mrs. Jewell began refusing food altogether and soon
slipped into a coma. Dr. Jewell and his children were with her when she died,
at 89.
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