Apparently, offering children effective treatments for a chronic disease that markedly increases their risk for other chronic diseases, regularly erodes their quality of life, and is the No. 1 target of school-based bullying is wrong.
At least that’s my take watching the coverage of the recent American Academy of Pediatrics new pediatric obesity treatment guidelines that, gasp, suggest that children whose severity of obesity warrants medication or surgeries be offered medication or surgery. Because it’s wiser to not try to treat the obesity that›s contributing to a child’s type 2 diabetes, hypertension, fatty liver disease, or reduced quality of life?
The reaction isn’t surprising. Some of those who are up in arms about it have clinical or research careers dependent on championing their own favorite dietary strategies as if they are more effective and reproducible than decades of uniformly disappointing studies proving that they’re not. Others are upset because, for reasons that at times may be personal and at times may be conflicted, they believe that obesity should not be treated and/or that sustained weight loss is impossible. But overarchingly, probably the bulk of the hoopla stems from obesity being seen as a moral failing. Because the notion that those who suffer with obesity are themselves to blame has been the prevailing societal view for decades, if not centuries.
Working with families of children with obesity severe enough for them to seek help, it’s clear that if desire were sufficient to will it away, we wouldn’t need treatment guidelines let alone medications or surgery. Near uniformly, parents describe their children being bullied consequent to and being deeply self-conscious of their weight.
And what would those who think children shouldn’t be offered reproducibly effective treatment for obesity have them do about it? Many seem to think it would be preferable for kids to be placed on formal diets and, of course, that they should go out and play more. And though I’m all for encouraging the improvement of a child’s dietary quality and activity level, anyone suggesting those as panaceas for childhood obesity haven’t a clue. Not to mention the fact that, in most cases, improving overall dietary quality, something worthwhile at any weight, isn’t the dietary goal being recommended. Instead, the prescription seems to be restrictive dieting coupled with overexercising, which, unlike appropriately and thoughtfully informed and utilized medication, may increase a child’s risk of maladaptive thinking around food and fitness as well as disordered eating, not to mention challenge their self-esteem if their lifestyle results are underwhelming.
This brings us to one of the most bizarre takes on this whole business – that medications will be pushed and used when not necessary. No doubt that at times, that may occur, but the issue is that of a clinician’s overzealous prescribing and not of the treatment options or indications. Consider childhood asthma. There is no worry or uproar that children with mild asthma that isn’t having an impact on their quality of life or markedly risking their health will be placed on multiple inhaled steroids and treatments. Why? Because clinicians have been taught how to dispassionately evaluate treatment needs for asthma, monitor disease course, and not simply prescribe everything in our armamentarium.
Shocking, I know, but as is the case with every other medical condition, I think doctors are capable of learning and following an algorithm covering the indications and options for the treatment of childhood obesity.
How that looks also mirrors what’s seen with any other chronic noncommunicable disease with varied severity and impact. Doctors will evaluate each child with obesity to see whether it’s having a detrimental effect on their health or quality of life. They will monitor their patients’ obesity to see if it’s worsening and will, when necessary, undertake investigations to rule out its potential contribution to common comorbidities like type 2 diabetes, hypertension, and fatty liver disease. And, when appropriate, they will provide information on available treatment options – from lifestyle to medication to surgery and the risks, benefits, and realistic expectations associated with each – and then, without judgment, support their patients’ treatment choices because blame-free informed discussion and supportive prescription of care is, in fact, the distillation of our jobs.
If people are looking to be outraged rather than focusing their outrage on what we now need to do about childhood obesity, they should instead look to what got us here: our obesogenic environment. We and our children are swimming against a torrential current of cheap ultraprocessed calories being pushed upon us by a broken societal food culture that values convenience and simultaneously embraces the notion that knowledge is a match versus the thousands of genes and dozens of hormones that increasingly sophisticated food industry marketers and scientists prey upon. When dealing with torrential currents, we need to do more than just recommend swimming lessons.
Like asthma, which may be exacerbated by pollution in our environment both outdoors and indoors, childhood obesity is a modern-day environmentally influenced disease with varied penetrance that does not always require active treatment. Like asthma, childhood obesity is not a disease that children choose to have; it’s not a disease that can be willed away; and it’s not a disease that responds uniformly, dramatically, or enduringly to diet and exercise. Finally, literally and figuratively, like asthma, for childhood obesity, we thankfully now have a number of effective treatment options that we can offer, and it’s only our societal weight bias that leads to thinking that’s anything but great.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.