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I talk a lot of crap on these forums so I wanted to make an actual post for a change. We love to complain about the job market and how ridiculous schooling is. I want to zero in on something else that is deserving of our scorn: diabetic shoes.
In a nutshell, I don’t believe diabetic shoes do anything. I know a lot of ink has been spilled on papers “proving” that they are effective in preventing ulcers, just like how there were some really well designed studies backing up the Cartiva implant. So why doubt the settled science? As so often happens in academic circles, once upon a time an idea took root in someone’s head that magical shoes could prevent ulcers. And that person shared that idea with others who all thought it sounded fine and that it was too boring of a claim to bother arguing. As the number of adherents to this proposition grew, so too would grow the amount of effort needed to refute what is, at a glance, a very innocuous claim. Besides, it seems intuitive that certain shoes would be better than others for preventing ulcers. After all, how often do our patients ask us “are these the shoes I should be wearing?”
My characterization of this process might not be entirely fair. The studies might very well be truly sound research with honest investigators acting in good faith. The studies are too boring to read, so we’ll never know for sure. What we do know is that outcomes of an intervention in an academic medical setting are not always reproducible in clinical practice. So expectations need to be tempered.
In order to be eligible for diabetic shoes, the patient needs to satisfy at least one of the following criteria:
If you routinely monofilament all patients (not just diabetics) over the age of 80, you will find many of them have idiopathic peripheral neuropathy. [This can be used to qualify patients for routine foot care, a practice @Pronation would describe as a “very podiatric”] Makes sense, people get older, they lose their vision, they lose their healing, why wouldn’t some people lose feeling in their toes too? But somehow these patients have been able to walk the earth with neuropathy and they don’t get ulcers!
Ah ha, but remember the risk factors form a triad! The patient must have callus formation as well. I’m sure some APMA stooge would argue that any callus is a preulcerative callus. You can’t predict the future. You have no way of knowing with certainty that a callus won’t ulcerate. So neuropathy ultimately doesn’t matter. Therefore any callus should qualify someone for diabetic shoes.
Even without calluses, criteria like “poor circulation” and “foot deformity” are extremely broad. What’s poor circulation? A nonpalpable pulse? A weak pulse? A pulse you don’t try very hard to feel and therefore mark it as absent? And what’s a deformity? Obviously they had Charcot in mind. Pes planus and pes cavus sound fine. Hallux valgus? An adductovarus pinky toe? As long as it’s documented, the patient gets covered.
So fine, just about anyone with diabetes can get shoes, and maybe it’s better too many patients are in them than too few. The problem is that among patients who do go on to ulcerate, the diabetic shoes do nothing to prevent it. I have patients who adamantly remind me every January that they should get a new pair of diabetic shoes and yet they still ulcerate. Perhaps it’s a question of adherence, they say you have to wear your diabetic shoes at least 60% of the time to get any benefit (how is this claim even provable?), including in your own home, but think about what you’re asking of your patient. “These are the shoes that you must spend 2/3 of every waking moment in for the next year. Have a nice day.”
Over the course of my (admittedly short) career treating ulcers and diabetic foot infections, I have come to the conclusion that shoegear doesn’t make an enormous difference. Clearly, there are shoes that will cause problems. But it’s hard to say what benefits diabetic shoes confer beyond a well-fitting pair of store-bought running shoes. Furthermore, the emphasis on diabetic shoes distracts the patient from real problems like glycemic control and untreated/undiagnosed peripheral arterial disease. It’s like talking to a wall sometimes because I want patients to be worked up for PAD or schedule some kind of bumpectomy surgery to definitively offload them, while they have convinced themselves that all efforts at limb preservation hinge on their use of magic shoes.
I will admit one nice thing about diabetic shoes: the foam inserts that come with them are really easy to modify. Because it’s such a porous material, it’s very easy to glue metatarsal pads and forefoot posts. This is another one of Pronation’s “highly podiatric practices,” but idgaf, it actually works, and smart MAs can be trained to do it. [When doing this, bill an e/m service against a diagnosis of Q66.89 or whatever fits.] But if the shoes were truly as good as they are purported to be, they wouldn’t need modifications at all!
So where do I fit in the mix? Well, patients want em, their PCP says they should have em, so does ID and vascular, Medicare wants to pay for em, and I’m just a stupid podiatrist, so what right do I have to question anything? So I sign the mountain of forms, patients receive their magic shoes with 3 pair custom (foam box, lol) inserts, patients who were never going to ulcerate to begin with get a free pair of shoes, patients who were destined to ulcerate do so anyway, and I get money for basically being a bureaucrat. Which is nice but not a tremendous source of job satisfaction for me.
Which brings me to the real problem with diabetic shoes. I have zero problem whatsoever treating patients of lesser socioeconomic status. But this service offering selects for the stupidest, most obnoxious, most entitled sub-population of that group. Because there is no skill involved, only forms to be filled out, diabetic shoes cheapen the doctor-patient relationship into a transactional one while Uncle Sam picks up the tab. I don’t enjoy dealing with these people, and my staff have better things to do as well. I wouldn’t mind if it was a medical intervention that did something. But it’s not.
In a nutshell, I don’t believe diabetic shoes do anything. I know a lot of ink has been spilled on papers “proving” that they are effective in preventing ulcers, just like how there were some really well designed studies backing up the Cartiva implant. So why doubt the settled science? As so often happens in academic circles, once upon a time an idea took root in someone’s head that magical shoes could prevent ulcers. And that person shared that idea with others who all thought it sounded fine and that it was too boring of a claim to bother arguing. As the number of adherents to this proposition grew, so too would grow the amount of effort needed to refute what is, at a glance, a very innocuous claim. Besides, it seems intuitive that certain shoes would be better than others for preventing ulcers. After all, how often do our patients ask us “are these the shoes I should be wearing?”
My characterization of this process might not be entirely fair. The studies might very well be truly sound research with honest investigators acting in good faith. The studies are too boring to read, so we’ll never know for sure. What we do know is that outcomes of an intervention in an academic medical setting are not always reproducible in clinical practice. So expectations need to be tempered.
In order to be eligible for diabetic shoes, the patient needs to satisfy at least one of the following criteria:
- Neuropathy WITH callus formation
- Poor circulation
- History of ulcer
- History of amputation
- Preulcerative callus
- Foot deformity
If you routinely monofilament all patients (not just diabetics) over the age of 80, you will find many of them have idiopathic peripheral neuropathy. [This can be used to qualify patients for routine foot care, a practice @Pronation would describe as a “very podiatric”] Makes sense, people get older, they lose their vision, they lose their healing, why wouldn’t some people lose feeling in their toes too? But somehow these patients have been able to walk the earth with neuropathy and they don’t get ulcers!
Ah ha, but remember the risk factors form a triad! The patient must have callus formation as well. I’m sure some APMA stooge would argue that any callus is a preulcerative callus. You can’t predict the future. You have no way of knowing with certainty that a callus won’t ulcerate. So neuropathy ultimately doesn’t matter. Therefore any callus should qualify someone for diabetic shoes.
Even without calluses, criteria like “poor circulation” and “foot deformity” are extremely broad. What’s poor circulation? A nonpalpable pulse? A weak pulse? A pulse you don’t try very hard to feel and therefore mark it as absent? And what’s a deformity? Obviously they had Charcot in mind. Pes planus and pes cavus sound fine. Hallux valgus? An adductovarus pinky toe? As long as it’s documented, the patient gets covered.
So fine, just about anyone with diabetes can get shoes, and maybe it’s better too many patients are in them than too few. The problem is that among patients who do go on to ulcerate, the diabetic shoes do nothing to prevent it. I have patients who adamantly remind me every January that they should get a new pair of diabetic shoes and yet they still ulcerate. Perhaps it’s a question of adherence, they say you have to wear your diabetic shoes at least 60% of the time to get any benefit (how is this claim even provable?), including in your own home, but think about what you’re asking of your patient. “These are the shoes that you must spend 2/3 of every waking moment in for the next year. Have a nice day.”
Over the course of my (admittedly short) career treating ulcers and diabetic foot infections, I have come to the conclusion that shoegear doesn’t make an enormous difference. Clearly, there are shoes that will cause problems. But it’s hard to say what benefits diabetic shoes confer beyond a well-fitting pair of store-bought running shoes. Furthermore, the emphasis on diabetic shoes distracts the patient from real problems like glycemic control and untreated/undiagnosed peripheral arterial disease. It’s like talking to a wall sometimes because I want patients to be worked up for PAD or schedule some kind of bumpectomy surgery to definitively offload them, while they have convinced themselves that all efforts at limb preservation hinge on their use of magic shoes.
I will admit one nice thing about diabetic shoes: the foam inserts that come with them are really easy to modify. Because it’s such a porous material, it’s very easy to glue metatarsal pads and forefoot posts. This is another one of Pronation’s “highly podiatric practices,” but idgaf, it actually works, and smart MAs can be trained to do it. [When doing this, bill an e/m service against a diagnosis of Q66.89 or whatever fits.] But if the shoes were truly as good as they are purported to be, they wouldn’t need modifications at all!
So where do I fit in the mix? Well, patients want em, their PCP says they should have em, so does ID and vascular, Medicare wants to pay for em, and I’m just a stupid podiatrist, so what right do I have to question anything? So I sign the mountain of forms, patients receive their magic shoes with 3 pair custom (foam box, lol) inserts, patients who were never going to ulcerate to begin with get a free pair of shoes, patients who were destined to ulcerate do so anyway, and I get money for basically being a bureaucrat. Which is nice but not a tremendous source of job satisfaction for me.
Which brings me to the real problem with diabetic shoes. I have zero problem whatsoever treating patients of lesser socioeconomic status. But this service offering selects for the stupidest, most obnoxious, most entitled sub-population of that group. Because there is no skill involved, only forms to be filled out, diabetic shoes cheapen the doctor-patient relationship into a transactional one while Uncle Sam picks up the tab. I don’t enjoy dealing with these people, and my staff have better things to do as well. I wouldn’t mind if it was a medical intervention that did something. But it’s not.