Fish, Fish Oils and Cardiovascular Disease

Years ago the scientific researcher responsible for the promotion of fish oils as an antioxidant and protector against vascular disease recommended we all eat two fleshy fish meals of cold water fish a week. He continued to endorse this dietary addition and included canned tuna fish and canned salmon in the types of fish that produced this positive effect.

Over the years I heard him lecture at a large annual medical conference held in Broward County and he fretted about the growth of the supplement industry encouraging taking fish oils rather than eating fish. He worried about the warnings against eating all fish to women of child bearing age because of the fear of heavy metal contamination and knew that the fish oils and omega 3 Fatty Acids played a developmental role in a growing fetus and child.

I then attended lectures, in particular one sponsored by the Cleveland Clinic, during which they promoted Krill oil as the chosen form of fish oil supplements because it remained liquid and viscous at body temperature of 98.6 while others solidified. I listened to this debate only to hear the father of the science speak again and this time advocate that one or two fleshy fish meals a month was adequate to obtain the protective effect of Omega 3 Fatty acids. He felt that the supplements did not actually provide a protective effect as eating real fish did. Since I love to eat fresh fish I had no problem with this message but others are not comfortable buying and preparing fish at home or eating it at a restaurant. Supplements to them were the answer.

Steve Kopecky, M.D. examined the question in an article published in JAMA Cardiology this week. He looked at 77,917 high risk individuals already diagnosed with coronary artery disease and vascular disease who were taking supplements to prevent a second event. His study concluded that taking these omega 3 supplements had no effect on the prevention of recurrent cardiovascular events. The study did not discuss primary prevention for those who have not yet had a vascular illness or event.

Once again it seems that eating fish in moderation, like most anything, is the best choice. I will continue to eat my fresh fish meals one or two times per week, not necessarily for the health benefit but because I enjoy eating fresh fish.

I advise those worried about preventing primary or secondary heart and vascular disease to find a form of fish they can enjoy if they want this benefit. If you really wish to reduce your risk of a cardiovascular event; I suggest you stop smoking, control your blood pressure and lipid profile, stay active and eat those fresh fish meals.

Advertisements

Globalization, Corporate Control and Shortages of Medication

One of my online medical information websites carried a letter from the head of the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) trying to explain why there is a shortage of standard intravenous fluids to administer at hospitals and medical clinics in the United States. The author cited an extremely busy influenza season causing patients to use Emergency Departments in record numbers plus a loss of manufacturing capabilities due to damage to a production facility in Puerto Rico during a seasonal hurricane. No more, no less.

Doctors, nurses and patients are expected to believe that there is only one production center for our intravenous fluids nationally located in Puerto Rico. If it is unable to produce and ship product then health care as we know it has to change?

If this is in fact the truth, and the only reason for the lack of available IV fluids, what exactly does it have to say about our planning and leadership at the level of the FDA and CDC? Might it in fact indict the corporate model of efficiency and productivity? Is there not a Plan B and C for supplies of intravenous fluid if one source cannot supply our needs? If this is in fact the only production source then why wasn’t it a post storm FEMA national priority similar to if the NORAD intercontinental ballistic missile system had been damaged due to Hurricane Irma or Maria and we could not monitor North Korean launches?

At the same time we have a shortage of intravenous fluids, we have a shortage of injectable narcotics for pain relief. Morphine and dilaudid are in short supply. My hospital pharmacy committee and chief medical officer are now limiting injectable pain medications to immediate post-surgical cases.

Pain elsewhere in the institution should be treated with the oral pain pills we read about causing the opioid epidemic and crisis in America. There apparently is no shortage of injectable heroin on the streets of Palm Beach County, Florida. The Mexican cartels have found a way to meet the demand of its customers unlike organized healthcare which seems unable to do so.

I do not know who is responsible for insuring that we have enough materials and medications available to care for our nation. I do know they are doing a very poor job of it and would love to know who is responsible.

My First Day on the Job …

There has been a great deal of discussion about doctors’ in training work hours and work load. In June of 1976 I reported to the Jackson Memorial Hospital complex three days in advance of my start date for orientation. I was given a tour of the facility, filled out countless forms and waivers, received my ID badge and was ultimately sent to the Department of Medicine to receive my assignment.

Sitting in the conference room and looking at the patient assignment and ward team assignment list I found myself at the bottom of the list. “Elective Rotation – Steven Reznick MD Neurology.” While all my colleagues in the internal medicine training program left to meet their new residents and meet and learn their patients I was sent to the neurology department in the next building to perform neurology consultations. When I got to the Neurology Office the Chief Resident laughed at me. “Reznick you are on elective. There is no night call. You start in three days. Go home and enjoy your last three days of freedom. Be here at this office at 9 a.m. and we will see what if any consults we have to do.”

Three days later at 7 a.m., filled with anxiety, I arrived at the neurology office which was locked and closed. At 8 a.m. a secretary arrived, showed me where to sit and I waited. At 8:50 a.m. no one had arrived yet on the medical staff and she received a phone call. “Dr. Reznick that call was from your chief resident in Internal Medicine. He needs to see you now in his office.” I asked directions on how to get there and off I went.

The Chief Resident had just completed his three years in internal medicine and was now entering an administrative and research year. He greeted me with, “Reznick I am not sure how you managed to be so unlucky but I have to reassign you from elective to Ward Team III on South Wing 8. You have eighteen patients on your service and you do not have the luxury of three days to learn them. By the way, here is the team pager and you are on call today and tonight.” “How did I get so lucky? “ I asked. “We originally had an anesthesia resident rotating through medicine but he decided after orientation that he did not want to be a doctor so he just left.”

The Chief gave me directions to SW-8, which was at least air conditioned, and off I trudged. Upon arrival I went to the nursing station, introduced myself to the charge nurse and asked if my ward team was around. “They are not back from morning report yet but we need you in 828. The priest arrived fifteen minutes ago and they are waiting for you to terminate life supports.”

My first patient was 28 years old with widespread metastatic terminal breast cancer. After multiple seizures from brain metastases and an unsuccessful CPR attempt she was “brain dead” on a ventilator. Her family had chosen to terminate life supports and my role was to walk in, disconnect the ventilator and pronounce her dead when she stopped breathing. I walked in, introduced myself, shook hands all around and listened to the family talk about my new patient. When it was time the nurse and priest walked to the ventilator and disconnected it with me holding my hands so I did not feel like I was doing this alone. The nurse adjusted the morphine drip and the patient peacefully and calmly ceased breathing. I listened for a heartbeat, felt no pulse, saw no respirations and spoke to each family member and the priest as my pager screeched, “Call 4125 MICU for a transfer.” I found a phone and called. AC, an intern said, “Hi Steve. We are transferring a 23 year old with rhabdomyolysis and acute tubular necrosis (kidney failure) just off peritoneal dialysis with calcium of 16 out to the floor because we need a bed for a younger more salvageable patient. Can you come get him please?”

The charge nurse on SW-8 gave me directions to the MICU and it took me five minutes to walk there. Out in the hallway was a large stretcher with an even larger gentleman on it with two IV lines running almost wide open and three volumes of charts each larger than the Encyclopedia Britannica. There were no transporters or orderlies to move the patients at this large public hospital so I was left to push the bed along the course I had just walked to get back to SW-8. We walked through non air conditioned East Wing which was considerably more difficult pushing a stretcher than on the original trip.

On the way I introduced myself to Frank, my new patient and began to take a history. Poor Frank was a furniture mover who developed a fever and chills while moving a piano up some stairs and, when he got home and went to bed, had terrible muscle pain. He was too weak to get up so he called 911 and was brought to the hospital three months earlier. For some reason his muscles had decomposed due to the infection, heat and bad luck. The dissolving muscle enzymes were like molasses as they passed through the filtration of the kidneys clogging them up and sending him into acute and life threatening kidney failure. He had survived dialysis and infection and was now being bumped out of the unit for a “younger more salvageable patient.”

When I got back to SW-8 and placed him on his bed I sat down with his chart, overwhelmed and considered using the same option that the anesthesia resident had exercised. I was reading and crying when I felt a hand on my shoulder, looked up and my new resident introduced himself. “You have had a tough morning. Let’s go to the blackboard and talk about hypercalcemia and how to treat it. I bet you know far more than you think you do. I have you covered, don’t worry.”

We were almost through his chalk talk and were about to examine the patient when the beeper screeched again. “Please call 4225, the ER. We have a GI bleeder and he is your admission if he doesn’t arrest before you get here.” John, my resident, jumped up and screamed, “Follow me.” He was running full speed, down the stairs and towards the ER. It was a ½ mile run if not more. When we arrived, sweaty and panting for breath we noticed a jaundiced man surrounded by doctors and nurses with blood spurting upwards from his mouth like an oil well that had just been opened wide. John pushed them aside, felt for a pulse and said to me, “Start CPR.” I got up on the stretcher and started compressions with each compression producing a geyser of blood out of his mouth and on to my white coat and clothes. There were no goggles. There was no barrier protection. “Stop compressions, “he ordered. “There is no pulse or blood pressure, let’s call it.” “Time of death 9:55 a.m.” John directed me to the chart where I wrote a brief note, called the next of kin and informed them and then changed into clean scrubs. “We have about an hour or two now before another admission so let’s go back to the floor, finish up with your surviving patient and get to learn the others.”

At 7 p.m., having rounded with me on all my new patients, John asked me if I had eaten all day and did I live alone. I told him I had not eaten anything since coffee in the neurology office and I was married. He suggested I call home and tell my wife that I wasn’t coming home that night. “Let’s get you to the cafeteria, get you some nourishment and let me introduce you to the resident covering you and Dr Homer tonight.” Since I was not assigned to patient care at orientation, I had not been issued meal tickets. I had about five dollars in my wallet so John gave me some of his meal tickets for a meal. John was a saint. My covering resident was his equal. “Pat” called me a “thoroughbred stallion who needed to be brought along slowly.” She gave me her pager number and told me to call her if I got an admission or if I had a patient care issue. The two other interns on our team were excellent. They made me a summary of their patients and wandered home at about 8 p.m.

The time from 8 p.m. until 3 a.m. was a vast blur. There was an admission of an elderly gentleman with pneumonia. It required drawing all his bloods, labeling the tubes and carrying them to the lab. I had to wheel him to x-ray for a chest x-ray (there were no CT Scans yet), obtain a sputum specimen and gram stain it for Tuberculosis. There were the three blood cultures to draw, starting the IV line and antibiotics and of course writing the admission note and orders and dictating them. There were countless calls from nurses about infiltrated IV lines to be restarted, headaches, fevers requiring me to show up and draw blood cultures, family members calling to discuss their loved ones status.

At 2:30 a.m. I wandered into the ER because I was up for the next admission. “Pat” looked at me and said, “Go into the lounge, lie down and take a nap. Give me your pager. If anything comes up I will wake you. You need a nap.” That simple act of kindness and consideration and a 30 minute nap was like a shot of Café Cubano and adrenaline and, when 7 a.m. work rounds began with my ward team back on site with my resident John, I was relatively fresh to face a new day. I passed the pager to Phil, the other intern, as he asked me, “How did it go?” Somehow I mustered up a “No sweat especially with resident coverage from John and Pat.  John is covering you tonight so I expect you will be fine!”

We got very little sleep during my internship (PGY1) and residency training. We worked 100 plus hours weekly. The patients we saw were mostly severely ill and complex. We did all the lab work ourselves in the ER house staff lab. We started all the IV’s, drew all the bloods, and transported the patients ourselves. The work was physical, demanding, cerebral, emotional and exhausting. Every new patient was seen by an ER physician and attending, an intern, a medical student, a covering resident.

They were reassessed at 7 a.m. on work rounds with your resident and ward team plus often the chief resident. At 9 a.m. you presented the new admissions to a faculty member and the entire residency class at morning report. At 10 a.m. you presented the case to your team attending physician on attending physician rounds. This faculty member reviewed the case, examined the patients and wrote a note documenting agreement with the care plan. At noon your resident presented the case to the Chief of Staff at Chief of Staff Rounds. By 1:00 p.m. the problems and decision making had been reviewed and discussed by six or seven physicians. Sleep was not an issue in decision making because we had so many immediate layers of patient decision making reviews.

Our overworked supervising residents for the most part were caring and helped us out if we were exhausted or in over our heads. Our chief residents were available around the clock if we needed extra help.

I do not want today’s doctors to have to work as hard and perform the menial tasks that I was required to do for any reason let alone because I went through it and survived. I do not believe that the layers of supervision and questioning of your decisions allows for sleep deprived errors and mistakes if everyone is doing their job appropriately. I do feel fortunate that I learned to stain specimens and look at them under the microscope and run electrolytes on flame photometers and learn how to set up cultures of blood and urine on culture plates then read them. It taught me the time involved and the limitations of the test plus the margins for error.

I do believe the high volume of severely ill individuals I cared for broke me down and made me a dehumanized efficient machine. I was fortunate that caring faculty built me up and reminded me why I went into this profession to begin with.

Last week a prospective new patient came by to meet me at my office and see if he wanted to join my practice. During the discussion he lifted his shirt and showed me some scars on his abdomen. “You don’t remember me? You gave me those scars inserting catheters to do peritoneal dialysis on me on SW-8 on your first month as a doctor. I remember how frightened you were that you would hurt me or kill me. I was suffering from kidney failure and high calcium after my muscles broke down from an infection. You treated me for six weeks after I left the ICU and transferred me to an acute rehabilitation hospital where I learned to walk again. I live in this area now and I found you on line and want to be your patient again.”

It’s incredible how life always seems to come around full circle!

End of Life Decisions Are Tougher Than We Think

As an internist and geriatrician I deal with elderly patients all the time. We always end up talking about end of life issues such as “Should I be resuscitated if my heart stops and I stop breathing?”. “Do I want a feeding tube or gastrostomy tube if I stop eating and require nutrition?” “Should I be kept alive on machines and for how long if there is no reasonable hope of recovery?” “When should we refuse tests for diagnosis and subsequent treatments due to frailty, age and quality of life.” These are all immensely difficult decisions for patients and their loved ones. We have documents available such as living wills and medical directives and we appoint health care surrogates to carry out our wishes when we cannot direct care ourselves due to health reasons. Despite this, disagreement often happens between family members and loved ones when the time comes to institute the plans outlined by the incapacitated patient. There are different interpretations of “living”, “terminal condition”, “life prolonging treatment”, etc. Is having a heartbeat and a spontaneous respiration truly living if you cannot eat by mouth, walk to the bathroom, recognize your loved one?

I faced these decisions as a caregiver and co-healthcare surrogate earlier this year and, despite being a professional, felt the decision making was extraordinarily painful and difficult. I share decision making with my brother who lives out of state but will hop on a plane at a moment’s notice to help out. He is an extraordinary son to my chronically ill mom. Widowed a few years back, and suffering from severe and chronic lower extremity issues, she became wheel chair bound and incontinent in the last year. Mom has been living in a highly rated senior facility with its own on-site medical staff in a complex supported by a religious philanthropic organization. Her doctor is a “fellowship trained geriatrician” from an Ivy League institution supported by a team of nurse practitioners. For this reason I decided to interact strictly as her son, not her doctor. Since dad passed away several years ago, she became withdrawn, angry and stopped participating in facility functions. The care team brought in psychiatrists who prescribed medications that left her calmer but clearly hallucinating frequently.

With isolation came increasing cognitive dysfunction with poor decision making and extremely fuzzy thinking. Four months ago she complained to me about having foot pain. I reported it to the nurse rather than undress her and examine her. The LPN reported it to the nurse practitioner. She was seen by a podiatrist several days later and several hours after that visit a nursing aide called my brother in NYC to ask permission to apply betadine (iodine solution) to an infection on her toes. He granted it. Several weeks later while visiting her I smelled decaying flesh. I noticed that when she moved her feet under her sheets she grimaced. I walked over and lifted the sheets and gasped. I was looking at seven gangrenous toes with a blue cool foot and absent pulses in both feet. No one had told my brother or me that mom had vascular insufficiency with gangrenous feet and toes. I called in the nurse and she called the nurse practitioner. The nurse practitioner had no answer as to why no one had told my brother or me that mom had a serious vascular problem going on for months. We had participated in the monthly team telephone conference calls where we listened to social workers, dietitians and therapists discuss her eating habits, socialization and participation. No one discussed gangrene.

Mom had a living will and a State of Florida DNR form. At best she enjoyed holiday trips to my home for family dinners, reading a book and watching TV. Injuries to her hands from repeated falls had made reading a book difficult. Sensitivity about wearing adult diapers and having an accident while visiting my home or out to a restaurant had made those trips a thing of the past. No one at the facility or care team discussed gangrene, evaluation and care for it or the option of palliative care. The Nurse Practitioner said that they hoped the iodine applied to the toes would stem an infection and the bloodless toes would just fall off.

I had numerous discussions with my brother about asking Hospice to intervene and provide comfort measures only at that point. My thinking was colored by my experiences as a resident at a big city hospital where a man with a gangrenous leg chose not to amputate it for religious reasons. We treated his infection but packed his gangrenous leg in ice so the decaying tissue would not rapidly deteriorate and to reduce the horrible odor. I did not want my mother to become that gentleman dying a horrible death, packed in dry ice while caregivers avoided her room due to the horrible odor.

A kind vascular surgeon in the area with excellent credentials offered to see her and offer an opinion. He said that without a diagnostic angiogram he would recommend an amputation above the knee on one side and below the knee on the other. I could not see amputating two legs. Had mom been rational and competent she would not have wanted that. Hospice seemed like the rational decision but that decision required two health care surrogates to reach agreement. “Steve I called her on the phone yesterday and the nurse brought her the phone. We had a wonderful conversation about your nephew and your kids. She seemed with it.” Grandchildren called her and had rational conversations with her. There was resistance to calling in Hospice within the family and their concerns created seeds of doubt in me. I am not blaming my relatives at all. I never stood up to them and strongly said, “She is infirm, with a miserable quality of life and no hope of improvement and you are all crazy for wanting to intervene.” So she went for an angiogram and they opened up three arteries in the right leg and then two on the left. The vascular doctor recommended amputating the gangrenous toes while the circulation was good and creating a clean margin of tissue receiving blood. That procedure took about an hour and was done right after the angiogram. All looked well when I saw her back in her room and snuck in a forbidden corned beef sandwich and kosher pickle. One week later the pain returned to the left foot. It looked dusky and pale. Noninvasive vascular studies showed the arteries that had been opened were now closed. The vascular surgeon recommended above the knee amputation. During this period of time my brother had made multiple trips back and forth from NYC to visit Nana. Our children had flown in from out of town to rally her and support her. They saw her deterioration. They saw her go from recognizing them to confusing them for our wives and her mother and sister. The decision to call Hospice this time met with no family resistance. Hospice arrived as Hurricane Matthew bore down on this area. We went home to prepare our homes for the storm and mom died during it.

Her death clearly relieved her of suffering with a horrible quality of life. That fact is comforting. Losing a mom is an irreplaceable loss. Should I have been more forceful in demanding palliative care earlier? I am still not sure. I am very comfortable with the effort to restore blood circulation to her feet to relieve pain and suffering. I would make that decision again. Other families and clinicians might not have decided that was the best course of action for their loved ones. I will say I had no guidance or help from her medical care team. I think patients and families need guidance at times like these because the choices are not black and white. There is much grey and much pain and many life experiences and emotion coloring your decisions.

I still sit down with my patient’s families and review the end of life options. We talk more about what “living” actually means to their loved ones. The decisions are never easy.

How Tightly Should We Control Blood Pressure in the Elderly?

A recent publication in a fine peer reviewed medical journal of the SPRINT study proved that lowering our blood pressure to the old target of 120/80 or less led to fewer heart attacks, strokes and kidney failure.  There was no question on what to do with younger people but to lower their blood pressure more aggressively to these levels. Debates arose in the medical community about the ability to lower it that much and would we be able to add enough medication and convince the patients to take it religiously or not to meet these stringent recommendations?

There was less clarity in the baby boomer elderly growing population of men and women who were healthy and over 75 years of age. The thought was that maybe we need to keep their blood pressure a bit higher because we need to continue to perfuse the brain cells of these aging patients.

A study performed in the west coast of the United States using actual brain autopsy material hinted that with aggressive lowering of the blood pressure, patients were exhibiting signs and symptoms of dementia but their ultimate brain biopsies did not support that clinical diagnosis. In fact the brain autopsies suggested that we were not getting enough oxygen and nutrient rich blood to the brain because of aggressive lowering of blood pressure.  Maintain blood pressure higher we were told using a systolic BP of 150 or lower as a target.

A recent study of blood pressure control in the elderly noted that when medications for hypertension were introduced or increased a significant percentage of treated patients experienced a fall within 15 days of the adjustment in blood pressure treatment.  This all served as an introduction to a national meeting on hypertension last week during which the results of this same SPRINT (Systolic Blood Pressure Intervention Trial) strongly came out in favor of intensive lowering of blood pressure to 120/70 to reduce heart attacks, strokes and mortality in the elderly and claimed even in the intensive treated group there were few increased risks.   On further questioning however by reclassifying  adverse events in the SPRINT trial to “ possibly or definitely related to intensive treatment, the risk of injurious falls was higher in the intensive vs conventional treatment group.”

What does this mean in the big picture to all of us?  The big picture remains confusing.  It is clear that lowering your blood pressure aggressively and intensively will reduce the number of heart attacks and strokes and kidney disease of a serious nature.  It is clear as well that any initiation or enhancing of your blood pressure regimen puts you at risk for a fall. You will need to stay especially well hydrated and change positions slowly during this immediate post change in therapy time period if you hope to avoid a fall.  Will more intensive control of your blood pressure at lower levels lead to signs and symptoms of dementia due to poor perfusion of your brain cells?  With the SPRINT study only running for three or more years it is probably too early to tell if the intensive therapy will lead to more cognitive dysfunction.

How Much of Yourself Can You Give to Others?

I have been practicing general internal medicine for over 35 years in the same community. I have many patients who started with me in 1979 and are now in their late eighties to early nineties.  Predictably and sadly they are failing.  Not a week goes by without one or two of them moving from general medical care to palliative care, very often with the involvement of Hospice for end of life care.   Medicare may now compensate for discussion of end of life issues but anyone practicing general internal medicine or family practice has been discussing end of life issues appropriately for years with no compensation. It just comes with the territory.

Most of us still practicing primary care thrive on being able to improve our patient’s quality of life and our major compensation can be hearing about their interactions and social engagements with family and friends.  It is an accomplishment to see you’re 90 year old with multisystem disease for years, dance at her great grandchild’s wedding.  No one who cares for patients longitudinally for years is that dispassionate that they do not give up a piece of their heart and soul each time they lose a patient or have one take a turn for the worse.   When I lose a patient, if time permits, I will attend the funeral or family grieving gathering during the mourning period.  Everyone gets a personal hand written letter. Completion of the circle of life and then moving on is part of the process.

I think physicians’ families take the brunt of this caring and I am sure mine does. As much as you want to have time and patience and sympathy and empathy for your loved ones, the work truly drains your tank and reserve. When you answer the questions of the elderly and their families over and over, often the same questions, it drains you.  Unfortunately, I believe my elderly failing mother is cheated the most by this process. Last weekend when making my weekly visit she was complaining again about the same things, asking the same questions that have repeatedly and compassionately been addressed by my brother and I. My wife interjected that I sounded angry and annoyed. I was. I told her that unfortunately all the compassion and understanding in me had been drained already today and I needed time to recharge.

I saw the widow of a patient who expired last month in his nineties. I had offered to make home visits and they were declined several times by the patient and his spouse. His last week of life he asked to receive Hospice care and they assumed his care.  I called the surviving spouse and wrote what I considered a personal letter of condolence.  His wife told me she was disappointed in me for not coming up to see him one last time. I apologized for not meeting their needs but wondered inwardly, how much can I give and still have something left for myself and my loved ones?

PCSK9 Inhibitors Not All They Are Cranked Up To Be

For months now physicians treating patients with elevated cholesterol have been looking forward to learning how to use the new monthly injectable PCSK9 inhibitor medicines that were touted to dramatically lower LDL cholesterol and cause far fewer side effects. They were designed to be used in patients with a hereditary form of elevated cholesterol traditionally very hard to control with oral statin medications and for statin intolerant patients with coronary artery disease.

The drawbacks to the new medication is its costly nature running more than $1,200 a month with many insurers, including Medicare, not yet covering it. There were additional concerns that the lowering of LDL cholesterol was so dramatic that it may cause problems in other organ systems that require cholesterol for certain functions.

The April 3rd edition of the University of Pennsylvania’s online Medical Review known as MedPage Today revealed data from Steven E Nissan, MD, of the Cleveland Clinic on the use of evolocumab (Repatha) in the phase III GAUSS -3 trial. This study looked at statin intolerant patients who had failed on two previous statin drugs or were unable to raise the statin dose from the minimal available level.  This study compared the effects of Repatha to oral Zetia (ezetimibe) at 22 and 24 weeks.  The study clearly showed that Repatha lowered LDL cholesterol levels by about 55% compared to ezetimibe at 17%.  The level of LDL cholesterol level was similar to results of the other cholesterol lowering PCSK9 inhibitor alirocumab (Praluent).

What I found most interesting is not that these expensive new injectables worked well but that 20% of the statin intolerant patients had similar muscular aches and pains and complaints with this new non statin injectable. Less than one percent of the patients on the new injectable in the study actually stopped the drug due to the muscular pains.

At this point my practice is still investigating the new injectables. Part of that investigation is determining which insurers will pay for the use of the drug and which will not.  In the past I have waited a good year for a new type of medication to be out on the US market to observe the true adverse risk profile before prescribing it. This promising injectable monoclonal antibody to reduce LDL cholesterol will be treated no differently.