Highs and lows of the AAFP convention

Every two years I go to the annual AAFP convention, almost without fail in my long career. This gives me the benefit of perspective, which I will now pass along.

This year’s event in Boston was exceptional. If you’ve never gone, you should. It might become addictive.

Since the Chicago convention in 2007, there has been a major change in format. Previously there were “headline” presentations in a huge hall, with a confusing variety of other talks in several formats – lectures, demonstrations, conversations, etc. The schedule was so overlapping and confusing that I sometimes missed events I wanted to hear, or could only work in half of the presentation.

All that chaos was junked in 2009, hopefully for good. All the events, except for fee workshops, were one hour in length with 30 minutes between. Many were repeated, so I didn’t have to wish I could be in two places at one time. The half-hour intervals provided plenty of time to breeze in and out of the exhibition hall, if I wanted to, which I didn’t. But that’s just me, this year. In the past I enjoyed the dog-and-pony shows.

For the first time I stayed at the hotel attached to the convention. You have to book early. The advantage was the ability to easily stroll down to the optional breakfast and dinner meetings, which were useful and also provided a free meal – a good one, in all cases. I could even get in a quick workout in the exercise room between lectures, which is impossible if you're using the shuttle buses.

The result was that I arrived Wednesday around noon, left Saturday morning after running in the 5K race and squeezing in one more lecture, and accumulated 40 hours of group CME credit. Many of the presentations gave 2-for-1 hourly credit because they were “evidence-based,” even if they weren’t really (listen to the popular "Am I Hungry?" diet talk, and you’ll see what I mean). That’s a bargain.

The presenters are uniformly qualified and useful. Once upon a time most of them were experts in other specialties. Now we've grown our own, and they think like family physicians. When I sit down for the lecture, all I want to know is if I should be doing something different. My habits are well established; that's the advantage of being a veteran. When a family doc presents evidence that I should change a habit, I usually do. The result is that I leave the convention with a few things that I want to change back home. 

So kudos to the Academy. The annual meeting is as good as it gets.

Now for the downside.

I missed the annual town-hall meeting with AAFP leadership, which apparently happened during the early part of the week when only the poo-bahs were gathered for their Order of the Moose convention. [Editor's note: This is referring to the Congress of Delegates.] You can tell them by their suits and the decorations on their assembly badges, which make them look like South American military dictators.  

Although I poke fun (partly because of my aversion to committee meetings) and although their aspirations do not make my heart glow, I can appreciate their willingness to be active in the political process – unless the political process is all they do, because they work in academic centers. In that case, it's a paid vacation.

I just think we're overdue for an honest, no-holds-barred discussion about the direction of our dying specialty. Enough with the happy faces and glitzy promotions. We need a town-hall meeting that isn't buried in safe territory and that offers members not only a chance to speak but also a chance to cross-examine perfunctory answers.

The president of the Academy came to speak at the Kansas meeting this summer on the patient-centered medical home. I asked those in charge if we could make it a debate. The answer was no. I could, however, drive to Wichita to ask one question at the town-hall meeting. That was too much driving to get one answer.

As I was taking cover in the Boston chill prior to the Saturday race, my ear was bent by a political aspirant from the midwest. He had lost his bid for a seat on the board, and he was lamenting that no one represented people who really ran full-time family practices.  

I don’t know if that’s true. But the few folks like him who are willing to make the sacrifice – because their service comes right out of the bottom line – are the salvation of the specialty, if it can be saved.

Posted at 01:59PM Oct 29, 2009 by Doug Iliff  |  Comments[0]