So, what's quality? That's
the question just about everyone is asking
lately, whether they're calling it outcomes, or
evidence-based practice, or best practices.
How do you define it?
Ask
your friends and colleagues. I did.
One nurse told me she thinks quality is
whatever anybody says it is, because it is
perceived. Another, an executive employed
outside of health care, said, quality
equals expectations over performance.
One friend said quality care is
timely, sensitive, and responsive.
Another said quality care is
delivered by a responsible expert.
My 10-year-old daughter thinks
quality happens when nurses give you good
service and helpfulness, and when they make a
good impression.
I
think quality care is getting what you need, when
you need it. But like so much else in health
care, it's not that simple. If we're
honest, we recognize that quality also involves
cost, access, standards, and some very tough
ethical issues.
Here's
an example of how difficult quality can really
be. Just last week, the U.S. Preventive
Services Task Force released a 933-page
paperback, Guide to Clinical Preventive
Services. The book, based on the most
comprehensive evaluation and synthesis of
preventive interventions ever, offers a blueprint
for preventing premature deaths and
injuries and other types of morbidity.
In
one chapter, there is a description of how a
regimen of zidovudine (AZT) begun during weeks 14
and 34 of pregnancy and continued through
delivery and for six weeks in newborns
significantly reduces perinatal HIV infection in
babies born to HIV positive mothers. With
the treatment, 8.3 percent of the infants
developed HIV; without it, 25.5 percent did.
The
quality question I'm wrestling with is this:
If it's true that the early treatment of
pregnant women can significantly reduce HIV
infection in their newborns, then should we
require all pregnant women to be tested for HIV?
After all, we require that children get
fully immunized before we let them start public
school. If HIV testing were required of
pregnant women, the quality of care for the
infant would most likely improve, sometimes
virtually eliminating the risk of contracting the
disease.
But,
if you look at the situation from the perspective
of the pregnant woman, freedom to avoid an HIV
test may be considered quality care. In
fact, if a woman were reluctant to get a required
HIV test, she might avoid getting any prenatal
care, and that could make her more likely to
develop other problems with her pregnancy.
If
we did decide to mandate testing, should we then
decide to mandate treatment? What if a
woman couldn't afford the expensive drugs she'd
need?
It
doesn't stop when the baby is born. If an
HIV-positive mother breast-feeds her baby, the
chances of transmission to the baby increase by
an additional 14 percent. Does quality care
mean saying that women with HIV can't
breast-feed? Whose definition of quality
care should it be?
In
this country, we've been offering HIV testing to
pregnant women, but not requiring it. Does that
approach constitute quality care? If you
were charged with advocating solely for the
newborn-to-be, would you argue that testing the
pregnant woman was the highest-quality policy?
If
we heard children were dying of polio in this
country because they were not immunized, would we
feel that our system was providing quality care?
Then why don't we have the same concern
when children are born HIV-positive who may have
been able to escape the disease, if only their
mothers had opted for testing or treatment while
pregnant? Here's one of many reasons the
search for quality health care is so complicated.
Polio is a socially and politically neutral
disease, so we can ask dispassionate questions in
our search for workable, high-quality policies.
But that's not true of all diseases, and as we
work toward quality, we need to recognize that
sometimes factors outside of health care
influence our decisions. But should we let
them?
The
good news is that we're getting better at asking
questions and getting data. The bad news is
that the science of quality is still young.
Barbara
Bronson Gray,
MN, RN
Editor in Chief
|