Supplements during Pregnancy: Findings from a
Longitudinal, Mixed-Methods Study in Niger
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Study Considerations for LQR and Lessons Learned From Conducting Our Own LQR.
Technical Item | Issue Confronted | Lesson Learned/Suggestions |
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Establishing Timepoints | Before establishing a timeline for the research study, there is a need to understand the timeline and critical events tied to the phenomenon of interest. | • recommend either using prior research, or a theoretical framework to establish the timeline for the LQR. • In our own research on HIV treatment across the pregnancy to postpartum transition, we relied on evidence describing the timeline for postpartum disengagement in HIV care to select our interview timepoints. Knowing when disengagement typically occurs during the postpartum period allowed us to select interview timepoints just before, and after that time. Understanding when infants were first tested for HIV and when the results were disclosed to their mothers was also important to our study’s timeline. • There may also be a need to revise timepoints based on preliminary findings. This requires flexibility and open-mindedness in order to optimize the depth and quality of data. |
Eliciting a rich narrative | Not everyone who meets inclusion criteria and consents to participate is truly willing and able to share their experiences with the research team. Some participants may give short or impersonal answers or may not fully understand the questions. For example, when asked how they feel about something they may simply respond, “I don’t know” or “I felt bad” and not elaborate much, even with probing. | • Becoming familiar with the target population, language and culture is a helpful first step, especially when trying to inquire about sensitive subjects or decide on effective interview techniques. Some populations may feel more comfortable sharing in a group setting while others may be more private. For example, we found our participants described certain experiences more freely during a focus group than during one on one interviews. • Consider pre-screening participants with one or two sample questions to assess if they are willing and able to share their thoughts and feelings about the experience of interest. • We suggest preliminary testing of guides and interview techniques when possible. • We found timely debriefings with our team after data collection and subsequently reading transcripts as soon as they were available guided adjustments to our lines of questioning as well as interview techniques. |
Sampling Techniques | Participants are selected based on a shared experience. But one’s experience of something is often heavily influenced by one’s personal characteristics. A challenge of LQR is to select a representative sample ensuring various points of view, while still having participants similar enough to allow connections and patterns in the experience to emerge. | • Carefully consider the population of interest and how different characteristics of potential participants might influence their experience of the phenomenon of interest. For example, if the population of interest is postpartum women, the experience of a single mother might vary from that of a woman with a stable partner. A sample with similar characteristics (age, parity, etc.) are more likely to have more similar experiences of change than participants who are very different from each other yet experiencing the “same phenomena.” • A structured purposive sampling method can be used to recruit along key axes of diversity (age, parity, education, relationship status) to facilitate the emergence of change across time and across the sample. • We found utilizing a clinic’s infrastructure and staff to identify and approach potential candidates was helpful. |
Retention | It is challenging to retain participants in a study over a longer period of time. | • Regular follow-up phone calls with participants in between interview encounters as well as offering financial incentives has worked very well for us. We also worked closely with a clinic to know when appointment dates were, if participants did or did not show up, if any transfers occurred and to coordinate appointment visits with data collection. • Establishing a strong trusting relationship with the participants also helps with retention. Having the same staff member conduct all interviews and follow-up phone calls between interviews can help build this trusting relationship. |
Relationships with research team | Developing trust and rapport. Recognizing when interactions are therapeutic. Study staff require support for emotionally draining work. | • The power of LQR lies in the relationships that build across time between the research team and the participants. This includes a mature respect for participants and their experience and a commitment to honoring their story through the research objectives. We invest in these relationships by thoroughly reviewing all the field notes, and interview transcripts of our participants prior to each encounter. This allows us to reference their prior concerns, feelings and situations as well as convey to them that their unique story matters to us. • These relationships may unintentionally change a participant’s experience. Participants may feel like the interview really helped them, even though it was not designed to be an intervention. It is important to acknowledge the relationship’s impact on the participant’s experience, if any. • In some cases, researchers, or their assistants in the field, may need extra support to process the emotional strain from working with participants who are sharing their personal experiences of suffering and vulnerability. Our interviewers found relief from this strain through team debriefings and discussions especially after difficult/sad interviews. |
Guide Development | What to consider when developing guides for in-depth interviews with the target population or key informants and focus group discussions. | • When using a guiding theory, operationalizing the concepts of the theory can help identify key areas of inquiry. • When possible, allow time between data collection points to interpret data as well as revise and seek ethical approval(s) for subsequent guides. • Keep the guides focused on collecting information that will answer the research questions while remaining open to understanding the complexities of the answers. • Tailor later guides to each participant when feasible; use data collected in prior interviews to personalize questions as well as to ask for clarification of or elaboration on previous responses or to inquire about how experiences may have changed since the previous interview. • Alternatively, recommend considering a more consistent interview guide in terms of content and format. They caution that variations in guides can lead to misinterpretations of change. For example, a new question about community support in a follow up interview might stimulate a participant to state new information about the importance of the community support they have received. This could be interpreted as a change in the participant’s support system. However, the community support might have been equally as important during the initial interview when they were not asked about it and thus, did not mention it. |
Data Management | Large data sets and fluid procedures make it easy to lose sight of the study objectives or get side tracked with other questions that emerge. Managing a large quantity of data in multiple forms including: transcribing, translating, turning notes into coherent text and organizing is a major challenge. There is also a need to consider cyber security while sharing data online with remotely located research staff. | • Constant discussion with the research team helps to balance openness to unexpected findings and the potential for new inquiry with a focus on the original research questions. • Put systems in place to securely store and manage data within the research team. • With the team’s available resources in mind, set up a detailed timeline of preliminary analysis plans including the potential coding schemas. • We used a software program to house all the raw data and perform coding and a secure server for file sharing with our transcription and translation teams. |
Fidelity | Ensuring interviews conducted cross-culturally in several languages are of high quality and answer the study questions. | • Extensive training for qualitative interviewers can ensure their understanding of the research objectives is deep enough to allow the development of meaningful translations of the study’s concepts, and questions which can be clearly understood within the language and/or cultural contexts of the participants. • Post-interview briefings help to identify questions or concepts that pose difficulties due to misunderstandings or challenges with translation. For example, we found our initial translation of “an empowered woman” was not well understood in the Dholuo language during our first interviews. After discussing in-depth with our locally based research assistant, we adjusted our line of questioning and used different words and examples to describe empowerment which were better understood in subsequent interviews. • Timely team evaluations and quality checks of translations throughout data collection are also important. |
Ethics | Protecting the privacy of participants can be difficult in LQR, especially in long term projects involving detailed personal data where it would be difficult to have complete anonymity or when data is expected to be used for future secondary analyses. | • Standard methodologies for ensuring confidentiality in cross-sectional research should be applied with LQR including utilizing participant identification numbers rather than participant names, storing documents that contain participants names (such as consent forms or locator information) securely and separately from all other study data, removing names and places from interview transcripts, and never reporting participant names in manuscripts or other dissemination materials. • We found that participants may feel differently across time about their participation or not recall study aims and thus reviewing the consent prior to each session as well as touching base between sessions to keep them engaged is important. |
Institutional Review Boards (IRB) | Investigators may need to modify interview guides, add new scales or surveys, collect different demographic data about participants, or even increase the sample size—this can be challenging as ethical review board/IRB processing times and requirements vary across institutions and organizations. Researchers can wait from a few days to several months for approval of even minor changes, depending on geographic location and/or multiple research sites. | • Thinking ahead as best as the team can—and prepare for anticipated changes whenever possible. It is also important to have a good understanding of how the IRB you are working with operates (i.e. when they meet, how to communicate with them and typical processing times). • We have found it helpful to reiterate multiple times in the initial IRB application that our study was iterative with changes to interview guides dependent on data collected in ongoing interviews. Thus, in the initial IRB application we only sought approval for our first interview guide and indicated that we would seek IRB amendments prior to each subsequent interview. Depending upon researchers’ experiences with their own IRBs this may be an acceptable approach, or IRBs may require interview guides for all time points during the initial application review process. |
Dissemination | Deciding at what point to share your findings and whether or not to publish baseline data. | • There may be very rich findings in the baseline data, but the risk of publishing it may jeopardize the power of the longitudinal results. The benefit of publishing baseline data as exploratory research is to encourage rigorous analysis of the initial status of participants’ lives before analyzing for change ( ; ). |
Transition theory (tt).
( Chick & Meleis, 1986 ; Meleis et al., 2000 ) is a well-suited model to describe health behaviors that occur across time and across a transition, such as diet and physical activity across the transition from pregnancy to postpartum or drinking behaviors across the transition from adolescence to early adulthood. TT allows researchers to characterize and describe transitions, such as those described above, and define the relevant personal, community, and societal characteristics that may facilitate and inhibit health behaviors necessary for a successful transition.
In our recent study of HIV treatment adherence among pregnant and postpartum women we utilized Transitions Theory (TT) to examine maternal motivations, behaviors, and social contexts from the 8th month of pregnancy up to a year postpartum in Cape Town, South Africa ( Pellowski et al., 2019 ). During the design process, TT was chosen as an overarching theoretical framework for the study and influenced the sample of interest (recruiting women during pregnancy as opposed to only focusing on the postpartum period). TT also guided the main sections of each interview agenda with a focus on the concepts that the theory posits to be the most influential on health behaviors across this transition (e.g. personal meanings, cultural beliefs and attitudes, socioeconomic status, preparation and knowledge, partners, families, and community stigma). Additionally, the four interview time points were carefully selected to align with what TT describes as critical points and events: 1) late pregnancy was chosen to capture preparations for the transition, 2) 6–8 weeks postpartum was chosen to capture reflections on birth and initial impacts of the newborn on daily life, 3) 4–6 months postpartum was chosen to capture early infant HIV testing, the end of exclusive breastfeeding/introduction of other foods, and maternal transfer of HIV care services, and 4) 9–12 months postpartum was chosen to capture possible disengagement from HIV care and the end of the breastfeeding period for many women in this context. Finally, TT was used to guide the analysis, which utilized an inductive approach. It is of note that the application of theory to an LQR project does not restrict the types of analyses that can be utilized (e.g. inductive vs deductive approaches). In this example, TT was used as a guiding framework to ensure that all phenomena relevant to the transition from pregnancy to postpartum for women living with HIV were captured in data collection. During data analysis, the main objective was not to support or refine the theory (deductive approach), but rather to understand and make generalizations about the unique experiences of women with the constructs defined by TT serving as general reference points ( Pellowski et al., 2019 ).
A sample of 30 perinatal women were interviewed during their 3rd trimester of pregnancy. They were asked about their breastfeeding intentions, expectations and past experiences with breastfeeding. Based on the findings from the initial interview the women were interviewed again at 6 weeks postpartum. The 6-week interview focused on how the reality of breastfeeding compared to the intentions and expectations the women had prior to giving birth, while looking for newly identified inhibitors and facilitators of breastfeeding behavior. Based on these findings, the researchers tailored a third interview guide to be used when the women reached 5–6 months postpartum to inquire how breastfeeding behaviors evolved as infants grew while exploring new contexts, such as mothers returning to the workplace.
We have already introduced LQR as an emerging methodology. However, depending on one’s understanding of what a research methodology entails, LQR may appear to be something too broad or flexible to be considered a distinct methodology in and of itself ( McCoy, 2017 ). This seems especially true when LQR is held up against long established qualitative methodologies (with more prescriptive methods) such as Grounded Theory ( Glaser & Strauss, 1967 ; Glaser, 1978 ), Ethnography ( Pelto, 2013 ) or Phenomenology ( Colaizzi, 1978 ). Further confusion surrounding LQR’s classification as a methodology may stem from the substantial overlap of qualitative techniques and procedures between methodologies ( Hermanowicz, 2013 ). Indeed, many LQR studies include the use of data collection techniques or analysis procedures commonly used in other qualitative methodologies.
We propose, however, that LQR exhibits all of the defining characteristics of a unique qualitative methodology ( Carter & Little, 2007 ), including distinct research objectives, foundational assumptions, and well-developed explanations of the methodological and analytic principles as outlined in the following sections. Central to qualitative research, while some procedures or techniques may overlap between methodologies, the research objectives, assumptions, and principles of the chosen methodology should justify the procedures/techniques used ( Carter & Little, 2007 ). For example, LQR may not simply apply a Grounded Theory analysis plan because Grounded Theory analysis procedures do not account for change across time (a primary objective of LQR). However, an inductive thematic analysis (as is applied in Grounded Theory) might be used in LQR to cross-sectionally analyze baseline data in order to identify emergent themes from the initial research encounter. Similarly, LQR studies may employ ethnographic data collection techniques such as observing behaviors across time. However, while ethnographic studies aim to understand a cultural phenomenon or behavior from the viewpoint of participants ( De Chesnay & Abrums, 2015 ) LQR aims to establish a shared understanding of how and why the phenomenon or behavior changes across time. Thus, the management and analysis of data in LQR is inherently different from other methodologies.
LQR’s distinction is in its aim to understand an experience or behavior(s) across time; explicitly seeking to answer, “how did this change?” “how is this different?” “why did this change?” and/or “what remains the same?” ( Saldaña, 2003 ). LQR designs have been applied in a variety of research areas including, transitions in human development ( Schmidt et al., 2019 ), the experiences of incarceration ( Cooper et al., 2015 ), aging ( Oosterveld-Vlug et al., 2013 ) and the progression of chronic illness ( Namukwaya et al., 2017 ), as well as behavioral research investigating medication adherence ( Salter et al., 2014 ; Weiser et al., 2017 ) and breastfeeding ( Doherty et al., 2006 ; Jardine et al., 2017 ). LQR may be applied to understand any human experience, as well as its sequalae and is particularly well suited for studying transition periods and developmental or behavioral changes across time. LQR may also be applied to inform the development of health behavior theories or interventions and may be used to understand if a policy or program was effective, why or why not and in what contexts might similar results be expected ( Lewis, 2007 ; see Table 1 for selected examples of study objectives).
Although the origins of LQR are not strictly defined, there are several assumptions that comprise the philosophical underpinnings of the methodology. First, LQR is based on the assumption that two key concepts— time and change are contextual ( Saldaña, 2003 ). While LQR often occurs over months to years, it is not only the chronological passing of time that creates meaning, but rather how the individual experiences that passage of time ( Saldaña, 2003 ). Different points in a person’s life may make the experience of time qualitatively different from another—passing quickly when one is busy or having fun and slowly when one sits quietly. In addition to personal level variation in the experience of time, the cultural context may also influence the interpretation of time. For example, the acceptable age for marriage or first-time parenthood can vary greatly across cultures, which may impose different time-based milestones or experiences in one’s life.
Since time and our human experiences within it are both contextual, the change we experience across time is also contextual ( Saldaña, 2003 ). Change may not be a linear or ordered journey from one state to another with a definitive end point. Thus, the depth of transitions may not be captured when change is viewed in isolation either as a single unit of analysis or as a solitary episode. LQR assumes the need to explore the complex, haphazard and potentially contradictory ways change emerges and to conceptualize the pathways in which these complexities in experiences and behaviors exist across time ( Pettigrew, 1990 ). Overall, LQR assumes change is multi-faceted and holistic where continuity, patterns, idiosyncrasies, and contexts are key components ( Pettigrew, 1990 ).
The second assumption in LQR centers on the human experience being a construct of the participants’ personal reflections and the researchers understanding of them, allowing multiple realities to exist simultaneously ( Balmer & Richards, 2017 ; McCoy, 2017 ). Furthermore, the construction of these experiences relies on the notion that participants are willing and able to articulate their experiences in a way that can be understood by the researcher ( Baillie et al., 2000 ). In qualitative research, and LQR in particular, participants share their experiences and researchers listen, analyze, and interpret these experiences. Researchers may present their findings back to the participant for their evaluation or ask the participants about the same experience again at a later timepoint to evaluate how their experience or their feelings about it may have changed. Through this process, the essence of the experience across time is established for each participant ( Balmer & Richards, 2017 ; McCoy, 2017 ).
There are no gold standards or fixed rules for data collection in LQR. In general, LQR applies either prospective or retrospective designs that include two or more data collection sessions using qualitative techniques (e.g., interviews, observations, multi-qualitative methods) over a specified time frame ( Saldaña, 2003 ). Yet, the defining principles of data collection in LQR go beyond having data collected at multiple time points. The chosen data collection techniques in LQR must also ensure the quality of data collected as well as cater to the researchers’ abilities to systematically manage and thoughtfully analyze these data across time ( Smith, 2003 ). The researcher’s ongoing assessment of data coupled with the flexibility to make adjustments are hallmarks of LQR methods.
Designing LQR studies that effectively capture change is not straightforward. Two overarching complexities are, 1) the length of time needed to be considered longitudinal is not definitive and 2) a universally accepted definition of change does not exist, making it challenging to identify change processes or outcomes across time a priori ( Pettigrew, 1990 ). These complexities are key, however, for researchers to work through as they consider the change they are seeking to understand and the corresponding outcomes. Some design strategies to consider include theoretical frameworks, target population and size, setting and personnel (see Table 1 for selected examples of LQR designs, see Table 2 for additional design considerations and personal lessons learned).
A theoretical framework is chosen based on the research objectives (See Box 1 for an example of a theoretical framework and its application in LQR). Theoretical frameworks are particularly helpful in identifying concepts relevant to the phenomenon of interest and how these concepts may change across time to influence behavior ( Chinn & Kramer, 2011 ). A theoretical framework should be chosen at the outset of project planning and inform 1) sample(s) of interest, 2) content of data collection (e.g. questions/probes developed for in-depth interviews), 3) timing of data collection and, 4) plans for data analysis. Researchers can then operationalize and explore concepts from the framework by asking: How could we define and measure these concepts in the context we are interested in? What information would help us describe and understand these concepts across time? In addition, researchers must remain open to new concepts and pathways that emerge from their data.
Participants in longitudinal studies are selected based on their shared experience of the phenomenon of interest ( Saldaña, 2003 ). Yet, an individual’s experience is distinct and close observers (friends, family, or caregivers of the individual) can also lend valuable insight ( Johansen et al., 2013 ). Moreover, LQR does not limit the unit of analysis to individual participants. Data might also be collected from focus groups, families, or groups of co-workers ( Johansen et al., 2013 ; see Table 1 for other examples). Thus, researchers must carefully consider who to collect their data from and how many units of analysis (individuals, focus groups, families, etc.) are needed to adequately address the research aims ( Kneck & Audulv, 2019 ). In LQR, in particular, researchers must also anticipate a certain level of attrition because over time participants may migrate, die, or simply lose interest in participating in the study ( Calman et al., 2013 ; Kneck & Audulv, 2019 ). One approach researchers may use to determine sample size is estimating the number of cases needed to reach saturation ( Hennink et al., 2017 ), which for a phenomenology design is typically 10–12 participants ( Polit & Beck, 2017 ). Saldaña (2003) recommends LQR studies start with more participants than you anticipate needing to ensure data saturation is reached, especially if a study takes place over two or more years. Because the context, study design, population, and setting are study specific, determining a certain number or percent to overestimate on sample size is best left to the research team’s judgment, which is based on the stability of their target population. In a systematic review of LQR in nursing, attrition was either a major limitation (20% of studies estimated 50% attrition) or a major strength (30% of studies had 0% attrition; SmithBattle et al., 2018 ). Given these extremes, during the planning phases of the research, attention should be given to understanding sample characteristics including potential barriers to long term participation.
A number of considerations are helpful when determining study setting in LQR. First, the venue must be convenient for the participants over the study period such as one close to the participants’ home or a venue the participants frequent such as their health clinic. Second, if the research team is conducting their study within a clinic or hospital where participants are patients, gaining the support of the clinicians and administrators prior to the start of the study and maintaining strong relationships throughout the study period is key to a collaborative, lasting partnership. Support from stakeholders ensures the desired space is reserved, the study does not disrupt the patient flow, and that the research encounters can be coordinated with participants’ regularly scheduled appointments. Third, the study team needs a private, quiet and secure location where participants will be able to focus on the interview questions while feeling relaxed and comfortable enough to fully express thoughts and experiences. This will also mitigate interruptions and background noise which may distract the participant and detract from capturing clear audio recordings. Fourth, supplying refreshments, child care, and easy access to restrooms may lead to a better experience for participants. Finally, if the researcher chooses to collect data in the homes of participants, the added value of observing participants in their own environment must be weighed against the challenges of working in a less controlled setting (more distractions, interference from other people in the home, potential safety concerns for the researcher, etc.) as well as privacy concerns (particularly when discussing stigmatized diseases or behaviors). Whatever venue is chosen, to the extent that it is feasible, maintaining the same venue throughout the duration of the LQR provides important design consistency and familiarity for participants, which may help retention. Some of these items may be relevant for cross-sectional studies as well, however, we have found that accounting for the aforementioned considerations are of paramount importance in LQR as they nurture long-term participation.
LQR is labor intensive as collecting, organizing and analyzing data is time consuming. Researchers should plan ahead, mapping out the time required for each phase, strategically selecting who will carry out each task and which tasks are best executed collaboratively. Many different skills may be required including, interviewing, conducting focus groups, videography, transcribing audio, translating transcribed text, organizing and managing data and finally conducting the analysis. In addition, there are other demands on staff time including, 1) reviewing and quality checking initial data, 2) revising subsequent interview protocols and guides and 3) maintaining contact with participants between study sessions. The research team should consider the different skills each staff member brings to optimize effectiveness of the study procedures. For example, team members with knowledge of the local language and culture who conduct interviews may also provide invaluable insight into the interpretation of data and its meaning beyond the strictly literal translations of the interviews. Additionally, planning for the same study team member(s) to interact with participants at each data collection point optimizes rapport and trust and aids in retention efforts—particularly when the LQR is occurring over long periods of time (months and years; Nevedal et al., 2018 ). Managing the ebb and flow of workloads across data collection time points requires the thoughtful organization and adaptability of project coordinators in collaboration with principal investigators.
Step one: operationalize concepts, including time and change..
Conceptually, the notion of time may be different between participants or from the research team’s design expectations. To alleviate this potential disharmony, Pettigrew (1990) suggests that the research team clearly operationalize the concepts of time and change at the outset of the study (as discussed in the “ Philosophical Assumptions of Longitudinal Qualitative Research ” section above). In some cases, the “baseline” (starting point) from which the change/transition of interest begins may not fall within the first interview. For example, when looking at the experience of living with HIV, the baseline might be when the person was first diagnosed with HIV (i.e., years prior) or rather the first time they engaged in treatment sometime after their diagnosis. Change may also be absent across time, which may reflect positive or negative behaviors (maintaining medication compliance vs. maintaining unhealthy habits; Lewis, 2007 ; Saldaña, 2003 ).
LQR data may originate from interviews with members of the target population, or with key informants such as family, friends, clinicians or other stake-holders. Data may also come from short answer surveys, focus group discussions or direct observations ( Johansen et al., 2013 ). Initially, data may be in the form of audio recordings, videos, pictures, drawings or field notes. In some cases, LQR studies are embedded in randomized control trials or mixed-methods studies where various types of data were collected. For example, a study on depression might use an established screening tool to assess depression scores at each encounter prior to conducting in-depth interviews with participants. There are no restrictions or limitations to type or quantity of data collected, only the a priori considerations of the desired contribution from each data source, data management and data analysis plan.
There are several approaches to consider in longitudinal qualitative inquiry. The primary approach used in LQR is serial interviews ( Calman et al., 2013 ; Murray et al., 2009 ). This approach utilizes emergent issues or themes from one interview to inform the line of inquiry used in subsequent interviews. The time between data collection points allows the research team an opportunity to review the data and modify interview guides ( Smith, 2003 ). Subsequent interviews can then be designed to build on rather than duplicate the previously collected data. Importantly, process notes/interview summaries and frequent debriefing of interviews is key to ensuring subsequent interviews are on target (See Box 2 for an example of a study on breastfeeding behaviors using the serial interviews approach).
This step is meant to validate preliminary findings and ensure data completeness and trustworthiness. There are several ways to triangulate data. For example, findings from interviews with key informants, or focus group discussions can be compared to findings from in-depth interviews with individuals to compare completeness and consistency in findings. Another option is to conduct a final exit interview with each participant ( Saldaña, 2003 ). The purpose of a final exit interview is to present the researcher’s findings to the participant for feedback. Questions may be asked to confirm or disconfirm preliminary assertions, themes or trends. Participants may also be asked to reconstruct their experience within the study timeframe. Similarly, questions could be focused on areas of uncertainty or missing details revealed by the analysis and interpretation. These final insights can assist the research team in confirming their description of change across time using a collaborative, reflective and flexible approach ( Pettigrew, 1990 ).
Longitudinal qualitative data analyses attempt to transform data into explanations and insights which address the original research objective—understanding an experience or behavior across time. Analysis in LQR is challenging on many levels given the large amounts of data to analyze ( Lewis, 2007 ; Pope et al., 2000 ; Smith, 2003 ), the multiple types of data such as field notes, interview summaries, surveys, transcripts or even videos ( Miles et al., 2014 ) as well as the challenge of describing how the experience may change across time within participant and among a group.
The research team is tasked with managing data collection, revision/development of subsequent interview guides and possibly even initiating data analysis while data collection is still ongoing ( McLeod & Thoon, 2009 ; Pope et al., 2000 ). This is especially challenging because carefully transcribing (and when necessary translating) data is time consuming and it is not always feasible to allow ample time in between data collection time points for analysis to be completed ( McLeod & Thoon, 2009 ). Some studies are chronologically time sensitive such as those seeking to understand distinct developmental time periods that would not be captured if data collection were postponed to a later date—early parenthood for example. In these cases, detailed process notes or summaries of individual interviews and frequent debriefings with study staff may be crucial for informing subsequent rounds of data collection. Bearing in mind the aforementioned challenges, what follows are the central analytic principles and procedures for LQR analyses (see Table 1 for selected examples of LQR analyses).
The analysis of LQR data can be carried out using a variety of different approaches with the precise methods used often evolving alongside the data collection ( Saldaña, 2003 ). Applying a deductive and/or inductive lens is often a good starting place. Using a deductive approach, researchers begin with a theory or framework in mind and analyze their data to identify specific findings that lend support to, clarify, or refine the theory/framework ( Burnard et al., 2008 ). If applying an inductive approach, researchers start from their original observations and seek to find patterns or make generalizations about their data eventually using their findings to create a theory or framework, establish pathways, or to develop themes or categories related to the phenomenon of interest ( Burnard et al., 2008 ). Researchers can also fall somewhere in between relying on predetermined codes or a framework to organize their data while still trying to identify new patterns or generalizations emerging from the data (see Box 1 for an example of this).
Researchers should also consider if their research objectives are best suited to a diachronic or synchronic analysis approach. Synchronic analysis implies analysis is simultaneous (synchronized) with data collection or occurring as a cross-sectional analysis after each wave of data collection ( Nevedal et al., 2018 ). Synchronic analyses are common in LQR because data collection and analysis are often a fluid process where initial and ongoing analyses are imperative to inform subsequent data collection encounters ( Balmer & Richards, 2017 ; Calman et al., 2013 ; Pope et al., 2000 ). Researchers must stop and ask, “what do we know so far?” “what have we missed?” and “what do we need to know more about to fully understand this experience?” The next round of inquiry is then directed accordingly ( Pope et al., 2000 ). As mentioned, in some instances, synchronic analysis may be less feasible due to time constraints or less important for achieving the study objectives. In these cases, researchers may opt for a diachronic approach, meaning they wait to conduct their analysis until after all data has been collected. Of note, researchers may also choose to conduct both synchronic analysis (cross sectional, after each research encounter) and diachronic analysis (longitudinal, using all data once data collection is complete).
Regardless of the chosen approach, an analytic roadmap outlining the specific steps of analysis is critical to providing direction given the complexity of LQR data. As the study progresses, the initial roadmap may change, and when this happens documenting how the path taken differs from the original plan is needed. A clear and auditable “trail of decisions” ( Guba & Lincoln, 1981 , as cited in Sandelowski, 1986 , p. 33) can establish the dependability of results in qualitative research. Thus, recording when and how decisions about conducting the analysis were made is important for the research team’s reference as well as future reporting of results (see Trustworthiness of Longitudinal Qualitative Research below). The roadmap documentation should include: detailed explanations of what was done, when, and why as well as what did and did not lead to meaningful findings.
After converting raw data (audio recordings, field notes, etc.) into coherent text, the next step of most analytic roadmaps is to read and reread transcripts to become familiar with the content, start identifying potential themes, and assess data quality and effectiveness of the interview guide. For some researchers, highlighting excerpts and adding comments or descriptive memos is also useful during this time, whether by hand or with qualitative data analysis software. Discussing initial data and data quality within the research team is also a part of this process. This is especially important in research teams where different members conducted the interviews and others are leading the analysis. Constructive feedback from the team can provide direction and suggestions for the interviewer in the next round of data collection while the interviewer can offer insight about the interactions with the participants (such as their tone or body language) that may not be fully evident to team members reading the transcripts.
After team discussions on data quality, the next step is often applying codes to the text. This could be a predetermined list of codes or one that emerges from the text. There are many different types of coding schemas such as descriptive coding, versus coding, or in vivo codes that one can apply to suit their analysis (for a comprehensive review on types and procedures for coding see Saldaña, 2009 ). In addition, one can apply the long table or manual approach to code data or use a qualitative data analysis software ( Polit & Beck, 2017 ). Regardless of the type(s) of codes or method by which the coding is done, the objective is to inductively and/or deductively apply codes (labels) to segments of data for the purpose of grouping and organizing thematic segments as well as highlighting exemplar excerpts.
In LQR, there may be one or more members of the research team coding data. Having multiple members of the team coding has several advantages. First, this allows for the inter-rater reliability or the degree of agreement between coders to be assessed. Higher inter-rater reliability shows that codes were applied consistently and supports the rigor and trustworthiness of the study (see trustworthiness of LQR below; Tracy, 2010 ). Moreover, when more than one team member is coding there is opportunity to discuss discrepancies in the application of codes. This guides the team in developing codes with more complete and articulate definitions as well as develops a deeper common understanding of the meaning of each code ( Miles et al., 2014 ). In addition, when various team members code transcripts inductively (without a predetermined code list) multiple perspectives may emerge and be useful, both in terms of capturing all of the possible emerging codes and also in terms of distinguishing between an individual coder’s interpretation of the text and the participants intended meaning ( Pope et al., 2000 ). Conversely, some researchers prefer to have one member do all the coding. An advantage of this approach is that one person can be fully immersed in all the data which may optimize consistency in the analysis. It may also be a pragmatic decision; for example, when an ethnographer embedded in their field site conducts all the data collection and proceeds to do the analysis, this may result in a consistent, comprehensive and thoughtful telling of an experience ( Saldaña, 2003 ).
Analysis of coded data in LQR frequently begins as a cross sectional analysis of the first round of data collected and can include repeated cross-sectional analyses as the researchers work to understand the experience at each timepoint of data collection ( Nevedal et al., 2018 ). Cross-sectional analyses are often conducted using techniques borrowed from other methodologies such as thematic analyses, where coded data are grouped into common sub-themes, sub-themes are grouped into themes and themes into broad categories. Importantly, a meaningful analysis must subsequently attempt to develop a longitudinal (across time) description of the themes or experiences ( Nevedal et al., 2018 ). As the analysis moves from cross sectional to longitudinal it evolves from descriptive (i.e., describing the changes observed) to exploratory (i.e., uncovering the causes and consequences of change or lack of change across time) ( Kneck & Audulv, 2019 ; Lewis, 2007 ).
The final analytical leap from descriptive cross-sectional to exploratory longitudinal is often poorly described in LQR ( Calman et al., 2013 ; Nevedal et al., 2018 ). This is likely because, until recently, neither prescribed nor clearly explained analysis plans for longitudinal data have been documented ( Sheard & Marsh, 2019 ). Within the LQR methodology, researchers are developing variant and sometimes discipline specific analysis techniques consistent with the objectives, assumptions, and principles of LQR ( Carter & Little, 2007 ; Sheard & Marsh, 2019 ). Such analysis plans primarily aim to find patterns of change across time and include: Longitudinal Interpretive Phenomenological Analysis (see McCoy, 2017 ), the Pen and Portrait Technique (see Sheard & Marsh, 2019 ), and the Trajectory Approach (see Grossoehme & Lipstein, 2016 ), which are described in detail elsewhere. In addition, there are the following approaches we describe in detail below:
Framework analysis ( lewis, 2007 )..
Framework analysis organizes data into one table for each participant (or other unit of analysis) which can then be used to find patterns across participants, across time, and across various identified themes. Patterns might be similar behavioral changes, similar feelings about an experience, or related changes in themes across time. For example, a change in a participant’s understanding of their own health condition may be closely linked to the services they are inclined to access ( Lewis, 2007 ). The rows of the table (sometimes referred to as a framework or matrix) are labeled as the participant encounters (one row for each encounter) while the columns of the tables are topics or themes identified from the theoretical framework, the interview guide, or the initial readings, coding and/or thematic analysis of data (see Table 3 ). Additional columns can be left open for emerging themes ( Lewis, 2007 ). The table is filled in with summaries from each participant in each cell as applicable. Kneck and Audulv (2019) suggest using descriptive summaries during this phase so as not to make any “analytic leaps” too early in the analysis. This process helps remedy the challenge that arises should there be a misinterpretation of data early on in the analysis process upon which future analyses are then based—making it challenging to look back and identify where the misinterpretation occurred. The cells of the table may also include salient words or phrases cut and pasted directly from the transcripts. Reading down the columns the researcher can explore the themes across time, while reading along the rows of the tables the researchers can explore the linkages between themes at a given timepoint. Researchers may also “zig-zag” through the tables to identify other patterns or trends ( Lewis, 2007 ). As these fully populated descriptive tables are explored and analyzed, the researchers can create a second “analysis matrix” where each row represents one unit of analysis and the columns continue to represent the topics/issues/themes of interest. The analysis matrix is then populated with the researcher’s interpretations of how each theme changed (if at all) across time, for each unit of analysis (individual, focus group, family, etc.; Grossoehme & Lipstein, 2016 ).
Example Table for Framework Analysis—Phase 1 and Phase 2.
Phase 1 (One table for each participant) | |||||
---|---|---|---|---|---|
Theme 1 | Theme 2 | Theme 3 | Emerging theme | Summary | |
Baseline | What is happening with the participant at this timepoint? What requires follow up? | ||||
Time 2 | |||||
Time 3 | |||||
Time 4 | |||||
Phase 2 (Combining participant findings across time by theme into one table) | |||||
Theme 1 | Theme 2 | Theme 3 | Emerging theme | Summary | |
Participant #1 | Description of theme’s change across time for the participant. | Overall change across time for the participant. | |||
Participant #2 | |||||
Participant #3 | |||||
Participant #4 | |||||
Summary | Trends in the theme’s change across time for the group. |
Cross-sectional profiling develops descriptive summaries of each theme, issue, or topic identified for each participant whereby the participant’s thematic profile is developed further with every encounter ( Smith, 2003 ). The summaries might also be arranged as tables with a separate table for each theme, each row representing a participant with a column for each encounter (see Table 4 ). A profile contains a summary of the researcher’s findings related to a specific theme for each participant for each encounter. Within each table, the individual participants (the rows of the table) may be organized in groups according to demographic characteristics, intervention vs. control, or outcomes. Initially, the first column(s) of the profile table (the participants experience of the theme at the first research encounter) guides further inquiry. For example, Smith (2003) identified ineffective lines of questioning related to one of their interview topics in a first wave of profiling and subsequently adjusted their approach. Once the profile is complete (contains summarized data from each participant at each time point), the researcher establishes the overall narrative of change for each theme for the entire group as well as the sub-groups. Then the individual narratives of change can be viewed relative to the narrative of the entire group or subgroup to which the participant belonged ( Smith, 2003 ). In this way the researcher can understand patterns and facilitating or inhibiting factors for individual change as well as develop individual case studies of change within a particular theme. The case studies can then be explored in terms of theme’s findings for the whole group—is it an exemplar or deviant case, or is the change more or less significant than among other participants ( Smith, 2003 )?
Example Tables for Cross Sectional Profiling.
Theme 1 | Time 1 | Time 2 | Time 3 | Participant Summary | Group Summary |
---|---|---|---|---|---|
Group 1 (Single Mothers) | |||||
Participant #1 | Participant#1’s experience related to Theme 1. | Continuation of Participant#1’s experience related to Theme 1, building on Time 1. | Continuation of Participant#1’s experience related to Theme 1, building on Time 2. | Summary of Participant#1’s experience of Theme 1 across time. | Theme#1 as experienced by Single Mothers across time. |
Participant #5 | |||||
Participant #8 | |||||
Group 2 (Mothers with a supportive partner) | |||||
Participant #2 | |||||
Participant #3 | |||||
Participant #6 | |||||
Group 3 (Mothers with an unsupportive partner) | |||||
Participant #4 | |||||
Participant #7 | |||||
Participant #9 |
This type of analysis uses archives of data to construct accounts of change and continuity across time including the researchers understanding of why things happened the way they did ( Thomson, 2007 ). Researchers use multiple data sources (interview transcripts, field notes, diaries, or notes from focus groups) and synthesize large amounts of information to develop a storyline for each case (individual or group) narrating change or continuity across time (see Table 5 ; Thomson, 2007 ). Case histories go beyond the descriptive level as researchers form a more analytic narrative of the case throughout ( Henderson et al., 2012 ). Sheard and Marsh (2019) describe a similar technique which they refer to as the “pen and portrait analytic technique.” They recommend researchers focus the summaries on the information that is pertinent to the research questions—perhaps centering them around an important theme identified by the researchers. In this way the narratives help to focus the analysis rather than simply serving as an all-encompassing summary. Researchers then use the case histories or narratives to analyze trends. They can group individual case histories by demographics, intervention vs. control or outcomes looking for similarities and differences between the groups as well as exceptional cases within groups. Thomson (2007) describes putting individual case histories “in conversation with each other.” She tried to understand the differences and similarities from different perspectives such as the perspective of the individual versus the perspective of society. Using individual case histories, researchers may also seek to explain why two seemingly different cases have similar outcomes or why two similar cases have different outcomes ( Lewis, 2007 ).
Example Table for Case Histories.
Time 1 | Time 2 | Time 3 | Summary | |
---|---|---|---|---|
Participant #1 | Participants narrative together with the researcher’s insights. | Continuation of the narrative with the researcher’s explanation of change including how and why it may have occurred. | ||
Participant #2 | ||||
Participant #3 |
The Pattern Oriented Longitudinal Analysis (POLA) approach is meant to be applied in nursing research when there is a single phenomenon in focus for the duration of the study and where questions and interview formats are generally consistent at each data collection point ( Kneck & Audulv, 2019 ). POLA focuses initially on describing each individual participant’s change across time and later looks for patterns of change shared among participants. The shared patterns are developed inductively rather than grouping participants into predetermined categories or outcomes ( Kneck & Audulv, 2019 ). Researchers must think critically to define a shared pattern as well as to assess the sufficiency of data which supports the defining aspects of the pattern and its boundaries (the limits outside which cases no longer fit the pattern). The POLA approach also uses matrices to organize data often with a specific analytic question in mind. For example, “how did the participants thoughts about their disease change across time?” The matrices evolve along with the analysis from organizing individual data to organizing group data. Shared patterns may eventually be categorized into types of patterns such as “a consistent pattern,” “an episodic pattern,” “an on-demand pattern” or “a translation pattern” ( Kneck & Audulv, 2019 ).
In some cases, a researcher may carry out their LQR analysis independently. However, it is often necessary, and arguably advisable that researchers work collaboratively within a team to design and execute their LQR data analysis ( Calman et al., 2013 ; Pope et al., 2000 ). Working in teams can be useful for establishing reliability in coding as well as in theme development. Team members of various backgrounds will inevitably have conflicting interpretations of data leading to necessary discussions where multiple perspectives are taken into account and researchers attempt to distinguish between what is the researcher’s interpretation and what is an actual finding ( Kinnafick et al., 2014 ; Pope et al., 2000 ).
The emergent nature of qualitative inquiry requires flexibility in research design, data collection and analyses. Defining the endpoint for analyses can be difficult and knowing at what point and in what format to disseminate your findings is equally challenging ( Thomson & Holland, 2003 ). Likewise, identifying a “gold standard” or “rules” that must be followed to ensure rigor is also a challenge and potentially less relevant as LQR research may be enriched by diverse strategies tailored to address specific research questions. Indeed, Nevedal et al. (2018) credits flexibility in LQR as a key facilitator that fosters innovation and creativity.
Ultimately, researchers aim to present results that speak to their original research objectives and in LQR, this includes a deeper understanding of the experience of change across time. Common outcomes presented in LQR publications are themes (and how they change across time), intervention development/evaluation, or conceptual pathways. For example, Clermont et al. (2018) were able to identify themes that explained decreased utilization of nutrient supplements in pregnant women despite their stated high level of acceptance. Mean-while, Corepal et al. (2018) used their qualitative study to better understand how and why an intervention designed to promote physical activity was effective among a group of adolescents. Findings from another LQR study among people living with HIV in Kenya provided key information to understand how and why a livelihood intervention impacted health behaviors ( Weiser et al., 2017 ). LQR may also identify changes in needs or levels of stress that can in turn be used to inform the development of supportive interventions ( Murray et al., 2009 ). Findings from LQR may ultimately be used by providers and case managers designing interventions to support an experience or transition that occurs across time such as a person transitioning from aggressive curative therapies to hospice care or an individual managing a progressive chronic illness (see Table 1 for additional examples).
The outcomes of the LQR must also adhere to a standard of rigor and quality that ensures meaningful qualitative findings. One way to describe this is by using the principle referred to as trustworthiness of data ( Polit & Beck, 2017 ). Trustworthiness of qualitative data is based on four principles, 1) credibility—how confident the researcher is in the truth of the data; 2) transferability—the extent to which the findings can be compared to similar populations in other settings; 3) confirmability—the degree to which research findings are based on participant narratives—the researcher was neutral in their analysis and interpretation and 4) dependability—the study design could be repeated with consistent findings ( Polit & Beck, 2017 ). Strategies to ensure each of these principles are met have been thoroughly discussed in the nursing literature (see Polit & Beck, 2017 ). In LQR, however, other considerations may be necessary to achieve trustworthiness.
In LQR there is often the need to make ongoing decisions about processes and procedures throughout the study including revising study guides or protocols, even if midway into the study. Changes may be essential to effectively achieve meaningful data that can be used to develop new knowledge ( Saldaña, 2003 ). That said, some qualitative researchers note that changing interview guides and formats can make it challenging to compare the responses of participants across time ( Kneck & Audulv, 2019 ). In contrast, Saldaña (2003) , argues that adjusting methods to enhance data richness allows the opportunity to gain greater descriptions that ultimately may serve a larger audience, thus satisfying the transferability principle of data trustworthiness. Transparency in reporting how and why decisions and changes to the study were made, is therefore vital to trustworthiness as it allows others to consider the decisions and changes that were made in conjunction with the researcher’s findings ( Sandelowski, 1986 ).
Despite clear benefits of LQR, there are several noteworthy challenges. First, depending on the objective of the study and the nature of the change being observed, researchers may be balancing a number of different logistical and conceptual challenges. Whether the study is investigating a disease state versus a significant life change will result in different participant experiences that may need varying amounts of time to capture the essence of that change; the amount of time needed may be a feasibility limitation for some researchers in terms of securing long-term funding as well as retaining participants. A second and related challenge is the labor-intensive nature of LQR which requires adequate funding to maintain research staff throughout the study period. Third, ethical considerations may be different for LQR versus cross sectional. By nature of LQR trying to ascertain a change across time, some studies may focus on enrolling youth or adolescents to follow over a certain number of years. This will require the careful consideration of consent processes, including the participants ability to consent and understand the objective of the study. In addition, informed consent should acknowledge the potential (albeit unknown) effects of long-term participation especially among young people whose life changes may be more unpredictable than middle-aged adults. Likewise, in cases where a person’s condition deteriorates, perhaps due to end of life, the ability to reconsent may be lost ( Murray et al., 2009 ). A fourth challenge that we note is LQR analyses are often poorly described in the literature making it difficult to follow the “recipe” (or even the thought processes) of other researchers with regard to how results were generated. This lack of explanation compromises the trustworthiness (more specifically the dependability) of the results.
Finally, a note about causality in LQR. Determining causality often requires longitudinal data to establish pathways where there is no doubt about the role of an independent variable on a dependent outcome. However, in terms of human experiences, causation is neither linear nor singular in many cases. Transitions are often impacted by multiple causes and may be better explained as “loops” versus “lines” ( Pettigrew, 1990 ). Causation is also shown when isolating independent and dependent variables to account for any confounding. However, transitions and behaviors are marked by convergent interactions and interconnected variables across time. Thus, LQR is well suited to establish or verify patterns of interactions and complex pathways but is not meant to show causation.
In summary, LQR provides a unique and important opportunity to understand human experiences across time within an individual and among a group using a more holistic, in-depth approach than is possible with retrospective or cross-sectional research alone. However, conducting LQR is complex and time consuming given the inherent contextual considerations of time and change and the many challenges and considerations unique to LQR. Ultimately, the task of exploring change is most effective when flexibility and acknowledgment of the process is considered at the outset. The main process elements include, managing large amounts of data; flexibility in data collection techniques to respond to data quality; sensitivity to many possible types of change that may be occurring; determining whether and in what ways these multiple types of change interrelate with each other; analyzing how and/why these changes occur; and pulling everything together in a complete and coherent report.
Ultimately, researchers must consider these complexities and processes alongside their research objectives to determine whether LQR is an appropriate choice. Our aim was to provide guidance on methodological considerations to aid the decision processes and support well informed study implementation.
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was supported by UCSF Center for AIDS Prevention Studies and UCSF Center for AIDS Research (ELT) and by the National Institutes of Health Grants K23MH116807 (ELT) and K01MH112443 (JAP).
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
BMC Medical Research Methodology volume 21 , Article number: 27 ( 2021 ) Cite this article
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Ethnographic approaches offer a method and a way of thinking about implementation. This manuscript applies a specific case study method to describe the impact of the longitudinal interplay between implementation stakeholders. Growing out of science and technology studies (STS) and drawing on the latent archaeological sensibilities implied by ethnographic methods, the STS case-study is a tool for implementors to use when a piece of material culture is an essential component of an innovation.
We conducted an ethnographic process evaluation of the clinical implementation of tele-critical care (Tele-CC) services in the Department of Veterans Affairs. We collected fieldnotes and conducted participant observation at virtual and in-person education and planning events ( n = 101 h). At Go-Live and 6-months post-implementation, we conducted site visits to the Tele-CC hub and 3 partnered ICUs. We led semi-structured interviews with ICU staff at Go-Live (43 interviews with 65 participants) and with ICU and Tele-CC staff 6-months post-implementation (44 interviews with 67 participants). We used verification strategies, including methodological coherence, appropriate sampling, collecting and analyzing data concurrently, and thinking theoretically, to ensure the reliability and validity of our data collection and analysis process.
The STS case-study helped us realize that we must think differently about how a Tele-CC clinician could be noticed moving from communal to intimate space. To understand how perceptions of surveillance impacted staff acceptance, we mapped the materials through which surveillance came to matter in the stories staff told about cameras, buttons, chimes, motors, curtains, and doorbells.
STS case-studies contribute to the literature on longitudinal qualitive research (LQR) in implementation science, including pen portraits and periodic reflections. Anchored by the material, the heterogeneity of an STS case-study generates questions and encourages exploring differences. Begun early enough, the STS case-study method, like periodic reflections, can serve to iteratively inform data collection for researchers and implementors. The next step is to determine systematically how material culture can reveal implementation barriers and direct attention to potential solutions that address tacit, deeply rooted challenges to innovations in practice and technology.
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Ethnographic approaches offer both a method and a way of thinking about implementation science. As method, ethnography offers specific ways to document and track the implementation process in health services research. These include rapid cycle assessment [ 1 , 2 ], periodic reflections [ 3 ], and pen portraits [ 4 ], which are based upon the triangulation of multiple, diverse data sources (i.e., participant observation, in-depth interviews, document review) [ 5 , 6 ]. As a way of thinking, ethnography orients researchers and implementors to “everyday” contexts, which includes the local and the lived experience, as well as the tacit and implied [ 7 , 8 ]. Applied to process evaluations [ 9 , 10 , 11 ], adaptation and tailoring [ 3 ], and facilitation [ 5 ], the primary contribution of an ethnographic approach to implementation science [ 12 ] is its comparative and holistic examination of people’s social worlds in relationship to newly introduced interventions.
We seek to contribute to the literature on ethnography in implementation science by illustrating an approach of the case study method that we believe is well-suited to describe the impact of the longitudinal interplay between implementation stakeholders. Case studies are a familiar way to present ethnographic findings related to implementation processes [ 13 , 14 ]. In this article, we demonstrate a form of the case study method that grows out of science and technology studies (STS) and draws out the latent archaeological sensibilities implied by ethnographic methods [ 15 , 16 , 17 , 18 ]. Archeological insights are gleaned from attention to material culture, or the “stuff” with which people carry out the work of their everyday lives. Stories about how people carry out their lives with their stuff has been the work of ethnography since its inception as a method [ 19 ], but STS shifts the point of view of the narrator. Rather than stories told from the perspective of the human actors, STS starts with the material object and builds stories about the world based on how things and people share and shape each other through social practices [ 15 , 20 ].
This kind of storytelling is familiar to doctors and nurses, who “expect the patient to tell a story about daily life-events in which entities of all kinds (beans, blood, table companions, cars, needs, sugar) coexist and interfere with one another” [ 16 ]. Writing an STS case study challenges researchers to “tell stories about medicine” that read like “a good case history” [ 16 ]. To illustrate the potential of this method, in this article we “recover archaeologically and interrogate ethnographically” part of the process of implementing critical care telemedicine (Tele-CC) in the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) [ 21 ]. By tracing the Tele-CC implementation process through people’s use and manipulation of elements of material culture, we will ground our interpretation of our observations and interviews in some of the actual objects people handled every day in their interactions with Tele-CC. We engaged with sites through repeated brief encounters over several years. As a result, we will be able to describe the contextual shaping of Tele-CC implementation through time, as well as across sites at specific points in time.
We argue that this form of case study (termed an “STS case study”) is a novel form of longitudinal qualitative research (LQR) that allows implementors to understand and impact the implementation process by distilling a lot of diverse data [ 22 , 23 ] into summaries and categories that make it possible to follow and understand change over time [ 23 ]. LQR is both a method for data collection and data analysis. Data collection based on LQR involves ethnographic engagement [ 24 ] and data analysis techniques requiring both cross-sectional and longitudinal examinations [ 22 , 25 ]. Taken together, these data collection and analysis strategies make complexity digestible. Qualitative researchers in implementation science have picked up and used LQR to track adaptations through periodic reflections [ 3 ] and pen portraits [ 4 ]. Periodic reflections are a format for guided discussions, conducted over time, that serve as a record of an implementation effort [ 3 ]. A pen portrait organizes data from different sources, at different time points, together in one document; it is like a collage describing one site where an innovation is being implemented [ 4 ]. Both periodic reflections [ 26 , 27 , 28 , 29 ] and pen portraits [ 30 , 31 ] have been used in the field to help develop study protocols; pen portraits have also been used as a method of data analysis [ 32 , 33 ]. As a novel form of LQR, the STS case study method introduces the opportunity to engage with material culture, and thus contributes a way to focus and re-focus, or calibrate, the analytic lens, or to look for how local use and understanding of the material elements of an intervention changes over time, and what that could mean for the normalization [ 34 , 35 , 36 ] of the implementation as a whole. The aims of this paper are twofold: 1) to contribute to the literature on the role of ethnography in implementation science; and to achieve that by providing a case study about 2) tracing how Tele-CC and ICU staff negotiate the implementation of surveillance technology.
The goal of the VA Tele-CC program is to expand and improve the quality of critical care delivery. In 2011–2012, two Tele-CC programs launched in VA utilizing Philips eCareManager. Currently, two hubs with attendant satellite-hubs, serve approximately 30% of VA ICUs. In 2016, one of the two Tele-CC hubs in VA partnered with eight ICUs that were primarily lower-resourced, smaller, and located in geographically isolated rural hospitals that have been especially affected by the national shortage of critical care-certified physicians and nurses [ 37 , 38 , 39 ]. The VA Office of Rural Health (ORH) funded the provision of Tele-CC in these ICUs. Tele-CC includes bedside physiologic monitor upgrades, continuous monitoring, night and weekend tele-intensivist support, and on-demand support for emergency departments. It is a technological innovation that requires both the unidirectional flow of data inputs (e.g., vital signs and labs) from the bedside to the Tele-CC, as well as teamwork between ICU and Tele-CC staff to make decisions based on these inputs and provide care. Proprietary Philips algorithms built into the Tele-CC system alert Tele-CC staff to acute physiologic concerns (e.g., sepsis alert), and the Tele-CC staff then investigate by reviewing the inputs and connecting with the ICU staff.
Prior research has shown mixed results related to staff acceptance of Tele-CC [ 40 ]. Knowing this, external facilitators [ 41 , 42 , 43 ] built a community of practice around Tele-CC through commitment work [ 35 , 44 ] characterized by a series of implementation strategies related to planning and education (i.e., building buy-in, developing relationships, developing materials, and educating) [ 45 ] that unfolded over time through virtual and in-person events. There were separate and coinciding technical, clinical, and interface implementation efforts. We followed the clinical implementation. Virtual “Clinical Information Calls” led by external facilitators and attended by internal facilitators pre-figured the in-person “Clinical Process Design Workshop (CPDW).” The Clinical Information Calls continued through an intensive 2-h Skype “Train the Trainer” that was followed by the culminating event, the in-person inauguration of Tele-CC services, or the “Go-Live.”
The Tele-CC nurses had all worked as bedside ICU nurses. They understood the protectiveness and emotional attachment characteristic of relationships between nurses, patients, and families in ICUs; they also understood that offering critical care virtually could disrupt relationships at the bedside. This manuscript will trace how Tele-CC and ICU staff negotiated mundane connections occurring within the daily flow of Tele-CC and ICU staff in and out of patients’ rooms. In the STS case study presented in this manuscript, we will model how to use STS and pay attention to aspects of material culture that may help implementors better understand and intervene upon Tele-CC implementation barriers.
Elements of our ethnographic process evaluation [ 9 ] have been laid out in a previous manuscript [ 46 ]; the supporting research was approved by the University of Iowa Institutional Review Board (IRB # 201311734). The clinical leader of the implementation (RP) formally introduced the evaluation team (HSR, JM, JVT, JF) at the Clinical Process Design Workshop, which served as a kick-off meeting for each new round of sites. During subsequent site visits and in conversation with participants, the evaluation team introduced themselves as social scientists. We indicated that we would report our findings to the VA Office of Rural Health, which was funding the evaluation of the implementation of Tele-CC in rural sites across the United States (Award # 14385).
Over the course of 16 months, the evaluation team conducted participant observation, including producing fieldnotes [ 47 ], document review, and interviewing using qualitative techniques (e.g., root questions) [ 48 ]. We analyzed our data by first organizing segments of fieldnotes and interview transcripts according to categories [ 49 ] of implementation strategies and then according to complementarity of information across types of data (observations and fieldnotes, documents, and interviews) collected longitudinally [ 4 ], in order to build a case study in the tradition of STS. Across our data collection and analysis, we used verification strategies [ 50 ] in order to ensure the reliability and validity of our process and findings.
In this article, we will trace how external facilitators used planning and educating implementation strategies (e.g., building buy-in, developing relationships, developing materials, and educating) to normalize Tele-CC. Specifically, we will focus on the conversations around the doorbell (a chime that would ring over the speaker in the patient’s room), a feature of the Tele-CC that Tele-CC staff use to mark their impending presence in the ICU room. The focus on the material culture of the doorbell developed during the iterative analysis process (see analysis section below). We used ethnographic data collection techniques through time, as well as across sites at one point in time. As a result, we were able to produce stratigraphic observations and horizontal exposures of the tensions around the doorbell, and thus generate a partial ethnography of the uneven normalization of Tele-CC in VA.
Our continuous virtual ethnographic engagement with the implementation of Tele-CC was punctuated by in-person site visits and presence at training events. The evaluation team was included on the list of attendees at virtual events and meetings, alongside internal and external facilitators. Prior to site visits, internal facilitators and ICU staff were approached via email regarding interviews with the evaluation team. A convenience sample of external and internal facilitators, as well as ICU staff, was selected based on their presence and involvement in the implementation of Tele-CC. Participation in interviews with the evaluation team was not mandatory; however, no one outright refused to participate. External and internal facilitators from the Tele-CC and ICUs included intensivists, advanced practice nurses, and nurse managers. ICU staff included intensivists, hospitalists, nurse managers, nurses, telemetry techs, and nursing assistants across all shifts. This article reports on fieldnotes from virtual events, including the Clinical Implementation Calls and Train the Trainer event, as well as our fieldnotes and interviews at in-person events, including the Clinical Process Design Workshops (CPDW) and sites visits at three ICUs that adopted Tele-CC.
Three ethnographers, with post-graduate degrees in geography, public health, and anthropology (JM, JF, and JVT, respectively) led the data collection efforts. We collected fieldnotes throughout the implementation process. During the virtual events (Clinical Information Calls, Train the Trainer), we called into the meetings and were largely silent; our presence was registered on the attendee list. At in-person events (CPDW, Go-Live), we embedded ourselves within small groups and participated with them in whatever activities were taking place. At 6-months post-implementation, we returned to the sites and conducted semi-structured interviews with ICU staff and internal facilitators.
During virtual events, JF and JVT observed conversations between external facilitators and internal facilitators. Conversations revolved around technical readiness, information about dates and times of upcoming events (CPDW, TTT, Go-Live), questions from the internal facilitators, and, post-CPDW, an in-depth review of each workflow layering Tele-CC into ICU practice. During the CPDW, we took notes on the lecture accompanying the PowerPoint Presentation, questions posed by internal facilitators, conversations among internal facilitators, the simulation demonstrating how the Tele-CC can assist ICUs, and the process of developing workflows. During Go-Live events, we took notes on small-group training sessions and simulations. In total, we conducted 101 h of observation (42 h during the Clinical Information Calls, 4 h during the Train the Trainer sessions, 35 h at the CPDWs, and 20 h at the Go-Live events).
JF and JVT collected copies of distributed materials, including PowerPoint presentations, workflow diagrams, training templates, brochures for doctor orientation and patient and family guides, as well as copies of the scripts for training simulations. In this article, we focus specifically on the elements of the documents that focused on the doorbell, including several PowerPoint slides, and the workflow diagrams around “Camera Etiquette” (see Additional file 1 ).
During Go-Live, and then at 6-months post implementation, JM and JVT conducted semi-structured qualitative interviews using qualitative techniques, including linguistic intentionality, root questions, and grounded probes, in order to solicit multiple perspectives and make space to question assumptions [ 48 ] (Additional file 2 ). To promote conversation and reflexivity [ 51 ], two researchers co-led each interview. At the initiation of Tele-CC services at the site, we asked questions about the structure and function of the ICU and the patient population, preparations they had made for the implementation of the Tele-CC, as well as their knowledge about the Tele-CC. At 6-months post-implementation, we asked questions about staff expectations and perceptions of the Tele-CC, as well as how they had used it. Interview duration was based on participant availability; however, no interview lasted longer than 60 min. Interviews were audio recorded, transcribed by trained transcriptionists, and uploaded into MAXQDA for analysis [ 52 ]. Transcripts were not returned to participants for comment or correction, however we did do some member-checking [ 53 ] during repeat interviews either with the same individual, or individuals who occupied the same role, as we visited the same three ICUs at Go-Live and then 6 months post-implementation. Details about these interviews are reported in an earlier manuscript [ 46 ]; additional information is included in Table 1 (below).
The analysis described here was conducted for the specific objectives noted above and reflects a small part of the larger evaluation of Tele-CC implementation in VA conducted by our team [ 46 , 54 , 55 ]. Throughout our evaluation, JM, JF, and JVT used qualitative data verification strategies, to ensure the reliability and validity of our data collection and analysis process [ 50 ]. We have also been guided by Normalization Process Theory [ 34 , 35 , 36 ]; for this analysis JVT, JM, and JF categorized each implementation process by the normalization work involved: enrolment, initiation, legitimation, or activation. These details are laid out in Table 1 .
After organizing the data in this way, JVT deductively coded [ 49 ] fieldnotes according to the implementation strategies of planning and education (i.e., building buy-in, developing relationships, developing materials, and educating) [ 45 ]. While deductively coding, JVT found that one of the most intact examples of a workflow, the one for “Camera Etiquette,” was also an element of the implementation for which we had a diverse pool of data (fieldnotes, interviews, and documents). JVT conducted lexical searches across fieldnotes and interviews for “workflow” and “camera.” JVT organized the coded segments that included the terms “workflow” and “camera” chronologically, according to elements of commitment work, and noticed a particularly potent interaction between an external facilitator and an internal facilitator around the idea of the doorbell. To draw out the potential tension, and collect data from as many voices as possible, JVT conducted another lexical search for “doorbell” in interviews with all staff interviewed 6-months post-implementation at the sites. Throughout this analytic process, JVT was in conversation with JM about the application of Normalization Process Theory as an etic frame, as well the possibilities afforded by approaching the data from the perspective of science and technology studies (STS). As a result, JM and JVT wrote the article in an iterative process, in conversations shaped by effective qualitative interview techniques designed to encourage reflexivity [ 51 ] and thus draw out the richness of the connections highlighted by the different forms of data (fieldnotes, documents, interviews) collected over time [ 4 ]. We refined the discussion and conclusions through discussions and writing with the clinical leader of the implementation (who was also the Medical Director of the Tele-CC) (RP), the external educator who co-led the Go-Live trainings (who was also an APRN in the Tele-CC) (LF), and a subject matter expert who was a former ICU nurse and current VA Rural Health Scholar (JW).
Following the doorbell through the layers of the implementation process, and then across three sites at 6-months post-implementation, we exposed how different and divergent notions of surveillance grew up through the implementation of Tele-CC. We pieced together this narrative about surveillance based on our ethnographic method of data collection. Concerns about surveillance are a barrier to staff acceptance of Tele-CC, and to understand how surveillance is a barrier, we can map the materials through which surveillance comes to matter. To tell stories about surveillance, ICU and Tele-CC staff implicated brochures, cameras, buttons, chimes, motors, baths, curtains, courtesy, nighttime, spying, post-operative confusion, and voices.
Tele-CC staff used the doorbell to signal their entrance into the patient’s room. Following the chime, the camera would turn on and swivel around to face the patient’s bed and the face of the Tele-CC clinician would appear on the computer monitor. In contrast, ICU staff used a combination of slower, protracted signals, including knocking on the door, or tentatively moving the curtain, in combination with verbal cues to enter a patient’s room. The chime of the doorbell and the inevitable whir of the camera’s motor as it rotated toward the patient were new sounds for ICU staff. In talking about these sounds, ICU staff found a way to express their concerns about surveillance and privacy, for their patients, for their relationship with their patients, and for themselves.
During Clinical Information Calls, in working through the “Camera Etiquette” workflow, internal facilitators and external facilitators spent time addressing questions about standardizing times when Tele-CC staff planned to round on ICU patients, obtaining verbal agreement from the patient for the Tele-CC to camera in to their room, potential equipment malfunctions and, specifically, the doorbell. Over the course of several calls, the external facilitators and internal facilitators worked to refine the workflows to best reflect how the Tele-CC could be “layered in” to the existing practices of the ICU. During the Clinical Implementation Call on July 11, 2017, during the discussion of the workflow entitled, “Camera Etiquette,” Patricia, one of the internal facilitators from Site 3 queried Morris, one of the external facilitators about the doorbell. The exchange is transcribed from fieldnotes below:
Patricia (Site 3): Is there a bell you ring prior in case the patient is being bathed? Morris: Yes. You’ll hear the motor of the camera move. We’ll click and show our picture. Somewhere in there, they will press a button and it will ring a doorbell. Patricia: Perfect Morris: At night, we don’t do that. We surveyed our customer clinicians. Patricia: Did you have to put up a disclaimer or any notification that cameras are being used? Morris: We give a brochure to the staff. It is a VA Telehealth rule that all patients have to consent to the video. Our nurses have a script of what they say and they’ll get consent for the audio portion of the ICU. Less than 1% of all patients refuse the [Tele-CC]. No reason to refuse, they are getting additional physicians looking over them. Does not preclude your nurses from connecting with us, just we can’t camera into the room. (Fieldnote, Clinical Implementation Call, July 11, 2017; all names are pseudonyms)
The import of Patricia’s question, “ Is there a bell you ring prior in case the patient is being bathed ,” and Morris’s response, “ You’ll hear the motor … we’ll click and show our picture … they will press a button and it will ring a doorbell ,” is not clear until the Clinical Process Design Workshop (CPDW) event 3 months later, when we participated in a conversation with Patricia and her colleague to create workflows. Our fieldnotes read,
after [an external facilitator] explained that the doorbell would sound after the [Tele-CC] nurse was in the process of camera-ing in, and that bedside staff wouldn’t have direct decision making about whether or not to permit this access … the major concern she [Patricia] mentioned was privacy for patients. [Her colleague from Site 3] replied that it would probably be similar to how people walk in and out of rooms at the hospital when rounding on patients, potentially walking in on them in moments when privacy would have been preferred. Patricia responded to this by saying in a flat tone, “Not in my ICU.” (Fieldnote CPDW, September 2017)
Similarly, the significance of Morris’s clarification that “ at night, we don’t [ring the doorbell ],” was not obvious until the Go-Live event at Site 3 (4 months after the CPDW). In an interview, Patricia spoke with us about how,
“they [the Tele-CC staff] don’t like to ring the doorbell, middle of the night to check on the patient. I want them to and they went back and forth about this … it’s like I kept saying to them, when I go into a patient’s room, I knock on the door. So that’s why I want you to ring the doorbell … you know, if I’m going into a patient’s room just with the curtains drawn, I’m gonna knock, I’m gonna say, ‘This is the nurse … [okay] if I stick my head in?’ You know? And they’ll say yes or no … but that’s the same thing I want the courtesy of the, of the doorbell.” (Site 3 T1, RN ICU)
During Go-Live, Morris oriented staff to Tele-CC through training sessions with small groups. After a brief lecture about the history of Tele-CC, Morris encouraged bedside staff to practice engaging with the Tele-CC by hitting the green button newly installed in each ICU room. In encouraging engagement with the Tele-CC, Morris specifically mentioned the doorbell. A fieldnote from one of these small groups describes his characterization of the doorbell:
Morris explains that … the hub staff can call in to the room from their end but will not do so without using a “doorbell” to buzz in to let staff and patients know that they are doing so. The camera will also rotate into the room to alert patients and on-site staff when hub staff call in. Morris has both [trainees] practice answering potential questions from patients and visitors about the cameras and the Tele-CC program along the lines of: “What is that thing? Why is it in here?” Morris also asks them to respond to a patient saying, “I don’t want it spying on me,” to which [the trainees] reply that it won’t do that. (Site 1 T1, Fieldnote)
Morris’ admonition to the trainees presages the implication of Patricia’s question about “ putting up a disclaimer or any notification about cameras,” which became visible 6 months post implementation (June 2018). Patricia had left her position, but another internal facilitator from Site 3, Forrest, who had attended the Clinical Process Design Workshop with Patricia, relayed how,
“[if] there’s no nurse in the room and there’s the [Tele-CC] nurse practitioner, you know, and the patient’s like, ‘What? I can’t hear you,’ … [and] we [the ICU nurses] didn’t hear the doorbell and then we didn’t answer it … I think that those are the kinds of opportunities we have to ensure that it’s a good patient experience … Many of our patients come post-operatively where they’re not able to be oriented [to the Tele-CC] and they could be very confused … that all of a sudden somewhere out of space a voice is coming from this thing on the wall” (Site 3 T2, MD ICU)
Retrospectively piecing together the arc of the implementation process by threading a narrative through mentions of a material object (e.g., a doorbell) was a way to re-situate ourselves in the flow of the original timeline of implementation. We developed a sense of what the doorbell was connected to (i.e., concerns about surveillance). As a result, we anticipated that looking for when people talked about the doorbell during our interviews 6-months post implementation might help us understand how conversations about surveillance changed, and also how these conversations differed across sites. Our “good case history” helped us contextualize and better understand discussions at 6-months. Looking retrospectively was a way to understand prospectively.
Each of these threads of Patricia’s concerns were borne out amongst the ICU staff at six-months post implementation with bedside staff at Site 3. Nurses at Site 3 relayed how,
“They’re supposed to ring the doorbell. I don’t know if we don’t hear the doorbell? But we certainly don’t know when they’re gonna just pop in, usually. (Site 3 T2, RN2)
“We were under the impression … when it first got initiated, there was going to be a doorbell before any camera turning, any monitor pop … and they were supposed to talk, for instance, “Is it okay if we come in?” and that is not the case.” (Site 3 T2 RN5)
“There’s been at least three instances where they have just come in while I’ve had a patient either on the commode or standing there urinating, and I was under the impression that we could deny them entry—[P2: (overlapping) That they’re supposed to … ring a doorbell.] … Well, the doorbell rings, but then it just turns off. [P2: Oh, I don’t even hear it, yeah] … Y-you got the green button, but there should also be a red button, so if you hear the chime, you can push the red button and they WON’T come in.” (Site 3 T2 RN6 & RN 7)
Not all ICU nurses shared the perspective of the nurses at Site 3. At Site 1, we engaged two bedside nurses, who had not been internal facilitators during the implementation, in the following conversation about the doorbell at 6-months post implementation:
“[I1: We’ve heard from several different folks we’ve talked to across sites that there’s anxiety about [Tele-CC] just camera-ing into the room without calling first or ringing the doorbell. Because you had that previous set of interactions with them, has that anxiety waned?] P1: It does still surprise us sometimes when we hear a voice in there and we’ll think, “Oh, I didn’t hear the doorbell,” [I1: Yeah.] you know, so [P2: (Overlapping) Hmm yeah] sometimes the doorbell … doesn’t ring … and so they’ve [P2: Yeah.] caught us off-guard. Sometimes we’ll be in there moving a patient or something and they’ll [P2: Oh!] uh (chuckles) … We know that they will um pop in between, say, eight o’clock and nine or ten [P2: Mm-hmm.] and do an assessment on the patient, so when we hear that we’re used to hearing ‘em, but we just don’t, a lotta times don’t hear the doorbell
[I1: I see so when you hear ‘em, what do you hear?] P1: Just voices talking … They talk to the patients … [and we wonder to each other] Is that your patient? Who are they talking to? (chuckles) And then we realize it’s probably [Tele-CC] that they’re talking to
[I1: Okay so walk me through that.] P1: (Laughs) Well just sometimes it, you know, it’s eight, nine o’clock and you’ll hear someone that you-- and you’re wonderin’, is their family member in with that patient or, you know, something like that and then we kinda listen to the conversation a little bit because the [Tele-CC] has a sound, you know, [P2: Hmm.] it’s uh-- doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? It’s different than just some-- just us— [ P2: (Overlapping) Yeah, tell it’s on a speaker.] P1: Yes … Kind of an echo. [P2: Like, now if you’re listening to a radio or something, you can tell they’re-- --not right beside you. It’s--] P1: It’s a different kind of sound [P2: Mm-hmm.]. P1: It’s a different conversation than us just talking... we don’t hear it all the time, you know, and so we-we haven’t learned to assimilate it into our-our book of sounds
[I1: What does that feel like to know that there’s another presence kind of like paying attention to all of the … ] P1: (Pause) At first, it was a little uh anxious, or a little irritating just because someone else is coming in and havin’ eyes on your patient, but their-- they don’t, they don’t butt in [I1: Okay.] is what I have found. They don’t butt into the care that I’m giving.” (Site 1 T2 RN Night Shift)
At Site 2, nurses we spoke with did not mention the doorbell when they reflected on how Tele-CC staff entered patient rooms and initiated conversations. One nurse remembered how,
“I mean uh you know [they have] popped in and you know ‘how’s he doing and how’s this and how’s that.’ And converse with the people who are there. I mean I, like I said I’m fine with it. Some people I think, were very apprehensive about it. But even the people that were very apprehensive, I think that after they got used to it, they didn’t care. I mean [the Tele-CC staff] would go on ahead and they were popping in on the patients. And you know when someone’s got their door closed like over here, and the family member’s in there and that shade is pulled. Guess what? You know [Tele-CC] pops in and of course they’re gonna flag us if there’s a problem. So that’s a good thing to have.” (Site 2 T2 RN3)
Ultimately, staff at Site 3 wanted to be able to limit Tele-CC virtual entry into their ICU rooms. Staff at Site 1 and Site 2, despite having some similar misgivings about the shifting dynamic of relationships between the Tele-CC, ICU, and patient, did not feel the same way. At Site 3, the conversation hardened around hearing or not hearing the doorbell, and wanting the opportunity to hear the doorbell. At Site 1, the staff also missed the sound of the doorbell, but focused instead on how the “different kind of sound” produced by the Tele-CC signaled “a different conversation” at the bedside. Staff at Site 2 did not mention the doorbell when they recollected interactions with the Tele-CC, but they also noticed the sound of the conversation between the Tele-CC and patient; what is more, they perceived how the Tele-CC could help them circumvent barriers to entering the room (e.g., closed doors, pulled shades) that the patient and family sometimes imposed.
The ICU is a place full to bursting with sounds. Patients risk developing “ICU delirium” as a result, in part, of the sounds associated with continuous monitoring of vital signs [ 56 ] and some nurses we spoke to talked about having a “book of sounds.” We witnessed nurses respond strategically to different sounds; turning off some “alarms,” but noticing immediately and acting decisively when a sound indicated a patient was in trouble. The sound of the doorbell was new. As a noise in the ICU, the chime was an unfamiliar aural presence [ 57 , 58 ] that inadvertently encouraged nurses to notice other foreign presences accompanying the implementation of the Tele-CC.
By “recovering [the doorbell] archaeologically and interrogating [the doorbell] ethnographically” [ 21 ], we have demonstrated the utility of the STS case study as a contribution of ethnography to implementation science. While ethnography exposes the mundane particularities of an implementation, science and technology studies (STS) helps us think about how those things come to matter. Specifically, STS case-studies contribute to the literature on longitudinal qualitive research (LQR) in implementation science, including pen portraits [ 4 ] and periodic reflections [ 3 ]. Like periodic reflections and pen portraits, the STS case-study provides a way to engage with the complexity of an implementation process by tracing changes over time through interviews and observations. However, the form of an STS case-study is unique. Rather than a clean case summary, it is more like a complex case history full of the mundane bits and pieces like those pointed out by Mol and Law; here, rather than “beans, blood, [and] table companions,” we followed brochures, cameras, buttons, chimes, motors, curtains, and voices [ 16 ].
Both ICU and Tele-CC staff enter patient rooms, but they do with different tools, with different “stuff.” Bedside nurses have a curtain or a door; Tele-CC nurses have a camera that turns around and a chime they call a “doorbell.” Entering patients’ rooms implicates cameras, chimes, motors, curtains, and voices, and negotiations about how to use this stuff, sparks concerns about how ICU and Tele-CC nurses differently acknowledge movement from the communal space in the ICU to the intimate space of the patient’s room. The material stuff associated with the presence of the Tele-CC (e.g., the camera, speaker, and monitor) are already located in the patient’s room, and so we must think differently about how a Tele-CC nurse could be noticed moving from communal to private.
Though labor intensive, the components of ethnography (e.g., participant observation, fieldnotes, archival research, and interviews) generate a field of data that can be analyzed archaeologically (e.g., across and within sites, at one moment in time and over time) and as a consequence allow us to notice tacit and implied beliefs that impact an implementation process. As researchers, we did not initially know to ask about the doorbell, and it was only after combing through our fieldnotes and collected documents that we were able to trace conversations about the doorbell to planning and educating materials pre-implementation, and then forward to conversations among ICU staff 6-months post-implementation. Anchored by the material, the heterogeneity of an STS case-study generates questions (e.g., why did Patricia demand the doorbell be rung at night? Is she concerned about privacy for her staff, or the patients, or both?) and encourages exploring differences (e.g., how did nurses at Site 1 let go of wanting the sound of the doorbell and embrace the different sounds of the Tele-CC? When did the nurses at Site 2 begin to see the Tele-CC as a way for them to see into the room?). Begun early enough, the STS case-study method, like periodic reflections, can serve to iteratively inform data collection for researchers and implementors.
Tele-CC staff need a metaphor that positions the Tele-CC differently vis à vis the ICU (e.g., not a doorbell, but maybe an “arrival chime”). Terming the sound a “doorbell” implies that ICU staff may not permit Tele-CC to enter the room, much like when someone rings a doorbell at a house and the owner chooses whether to invite entry. In our context, the Tele-CC are part of the standard of care (i.e., Tele-CC cannot be denied entry into a patient’s room). Tele-CC staff recognize that ICU staff have a strong sense of autonomy in their practice and they wonder if using the term “doorbell,” and thus (incorrectly) implying that ICU staff can deny Tele-CC staff entry in to the room, creates uncertainty among ICU staff related to their own autonomy and the authority of the Tele-CC. The goal is to initiate contact with a sound that signals collaboration and partnership. Future research should explore how one negotiates virtual entry to an intimate, private space in a way that fosters teamwork.
Our study has several limitations. First, teamwork between ICU and Tele-CC staff is so complex that 6-months is not enough time for Tele-CC and bedside staff to become familiar or comfortable with each other; in fact, it could take longer than 6 years to build trustful relationships [ 59 ]. Our data collection plan ended at 6-months post-implementation, so we did not have the opportunity to observe and learn about how staff interacted with the doorbell in the context of more trusting relationships between the ICU and Tele-CC staff. Secondly, we have no information about how patients perceive the sound of the doorbell. Finally, we do not have data gleaned from interview guides informed directly by our new understanding of the import of the doorbell. If we had the opportunity to go back to these sites, we could ask them questions that might draw out this information. However, using the STS-case study method, we were able to denote a pattern that may indicate that staff who are normalizing the sounds associated with Tele-CC may be exhibiting higher levels of acceptance of Tele-CC a part of their practice.
The STS case-study is a tool for implementors to use when a piece of material culture is an essential component of implementation. In the context of an ethnographic process evaluation of the implementation of Tele-CC services in Department of Veterans Affairs Medical Centers, the STS case-study helped us realize that we must think differently about how a Tele-CC nurse could be noticed moving from public to private space. The next step in the development of the STS case-study research method is to develop tools that will guide implementers through the STS case-study method to determine systematically how material culture can reveal implementation barriers and direct attention to potential solutions that address tacit, deeply rooted challenges to innovations in practice and technology.
The datasets used and/or analyzed during the current study are available from the corresponding author on reasonable request.
Clinical Process Design Workshop
Intensive Care Unit
Longitudinal Qualitative Research
Science and Technology Studies
Tele-Intensive Care Unit (previously abbreviated as Tele-ICU)
Train the Trainer
Veterans Affairs
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The authors acknowledge technical support for transcription and qualitative data processing from Monica Paez, Vu-Thuy Nguyen, Elizabeth Newbury, and Chelsea Hicks. We also wish to express our appreciation for the VA staff who participated in this study to inform the implementation of tele-critical care. Finally, we would like to acknowledge the VA Office of Rural Health for funding the tele-critical care evaluation.
Funding provided by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) Office of Rural Health, Veterans Rural Health Resource Center- Iowa City (Award 14385). Visit www.ruralhealth.va.gov to learn more. Support is also provided by the Health Services Research and Development (HSR&D) Service through the Center for Access and Delivery Research and Evaluation (CADRE) (CIN 13–412). The Department of Veterans Affairs had no role in the analysis or interpretation of data or the decision to report these data in a peer-reviewed journal. The views expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position or policy of the Department of Veterans Affairs or the United States government.
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VA Office of Rural Health (ORH), Veterans Rural Health Resource Center-Iowa City, Iowa City VA Healthcare System, Iowa City, IA, USA
Jennifer M. Van Tiem, Heather Schacht Reisinger, Julia E. Friberg, Jaime R. Wilson & Jane Moeckli
VA Health Services Research & Development Service, Center for Access and Delivery Research and Evaluation, Iowa City VA Health Care System (152), 601 Highway 6 West, Iowa City, IA, 52246, USA
The Department of Internal Medicine, University of Iowa Carver College of Medicine, Iowa City, IA, USA
Heather Schacht Reisinger
Institute for Clinical and Translational Science, University of Iowa, Iowa City, IA, USA
VISN 10/Cincinnati Tele-CC System, Cincinnati, OH, USA
Lynn Fitzwater & Ralph J. Panos
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We have 7 authors. We worked as a research team. The PI for this project was HSR. As such, she provided substantial contributions to the conception and design for data collection; she also revised the paper for important intellectual content. The research team for this project consisted of JVT, JF, and JM. As such, they provided substantial contributions to the design of data collection and acquisition of data, as well as providing revisions to early drafts of the article. JM and JVT contributed to the interpretation of the data through conceptual framing and theoretical expertise during the analysis. JW, LF, and RP served as subject matter experts in the field of critical care and Tele-CC. All authors contributed to the analysis and interpretation of data at various stages, though the analysis for this paper was led by JVT. Every author participated in the revising and drafting of this final manuscript and approved this version for submission for publication. Every author agrees to be accountable for all aspects of the work. All authors have read and approved the manuscript.
Correspondence to Jennifer M. Van Tiem .
Ethics approval and consent to participate.
This research was approved by the University of Iowa Institutional Review Board (IRB # 201311734). Informed consented obtained from study participants was verbal. We provided a written information sheet with the elements of consent to all participants, but did not require their signature. This procedure was approved by our IRB.
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Van Tiem, J.M., Schacht Reisinger, H., Friberg, J.E. et al. The STS case study: an analysis method for longitudinal qualitative research for implementation science. BMC Med Res Methodol 21 , 27 (2021). https://doi.org/10.1186/s12874-021-01215-y
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Published : 05 February 2021
DOI : https://doi.org/10.1186/s12874-021-01215-y
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Longitudinal qualitative research is distinguished from other qualitative approaches by the way in which time is designed into the research process, making change a key focus for analysis . LQR answers qualitative questions about the lived experience of change, or sometimes stability, over time. ... LQR may be imbedded within case studies ...
Qualitative longitudinal research (QLR) comprises qualitative studies, with repeated data collection, that focus on the temporality (e.g., time and change) of a phenomenon. ... (17.4%) self-identified both as having a QLR design and following one of the methodological approaches (case study: n = 8; phenomenology: n = 23; grounded theory: ...
Qualitative longitudinal research (QLR) comprises qualitative studies, with repeated data collection, that focus on the temporality (e.g., time and change) of a phenomenon. The use of QLR is increasing in health research since many topics within health involve change (e.g., progressive illness, rehabilitation). A method study can provide an insightful understanding of the use, trends and ...
We argue that this form of case study (termed an "STS case study") is a novel form of longitudinal qualitative research (LQR) that allows implementors to understand and impact the implementation process by distilling a lot of diverse data [22, 23] into summaries and categories that make it possible to follow and understand change over time ...
Qualitative longitudinal research (QLR) is an emergent research methodology that has been used to study the change, short- and long-term impacts, and probable causality resulting from a particular event, phenomenon, policy, and/or intervention in a continuous fashion through multiple waves of data collection over a substantial amount of time (Holland et al., 2006; Neale, 2018; Thomson ...
Longitudinal qualitative research (LQR) is an emerging methodology in health behavior and nursing research—fields focused on generating evidence to support nursing practices as well as programs, and policies promoting healthy behaviors (Glanz et al., 2008; Polit & Beck, 2017).Because human experiences are rarely comprised of concrete, time-limited events, but evolve and change across time ...
Taking a longitudinal qualitative approach to such research can provide valuable insights. In this article, we present some longitudinal qualitative methods to support researchers interested in getting started with this type of research. We discuss what longitudinal qualitative approaches offer, consider the challenges and suggest how to go ...
A case study is one of the most commonly used methodologies of social research. This article attempts to look into the various dimensions of a case study research strategy, the different epistemological strands which determine the particular case study type and approach adopted in the field, discusses the factors which can enhance the effectiveness of a case study research, and the debate ...
Revised on June 22, 2023. In a longitudinal study, researchers repeatedly examine the same individuals to detect any changes that might occur over a period of time. Longitudinal studies are a type of correlational research in which researchers observe and collect data on a number of variables without trying to influence those variables.
But longitudinal qualitative research, unlike much longitudinal quantitative research, is not restricted to the use of identical questions. We again note Armstrong and Hamilton ( 2013 ) whose longitudinal study of college students was projected and well-planned, but whose serial interviews evolved, even across the span of 4 years, such that ...
Thomson R (2007) The qualitative longitudinal case history: practical, methodological and ethical reflections. Social Policy and Society 6(4 ... selves and family dynamics. In: Thomson R (ed.) (2010) Intensity and Insight: Qualitative Longitudinal Research as a Route into the Psychosocial. Timescapes Working Paper 3. Google Scholar. Thomson R ...
Longitudinal qualitative research is starting to be used in applied health research, having been popular in social research for several decades. There is potential for a large volume of complex data to be captured, over a span of months or years across several different methods. ... The qualitative longitudinal case history: practical ...
STS case-studies contribute to the literature on longitudinal qualitive research (LQR) in implementation science, including pen portraits and periodic reflections. Anchored by the material, the heterogeneity of an STS case-study generates questions and encourages exploring differences. Begun early e …
Qualitative longitudinal design has a long tradition in a variety of social science disciplines and is increasingly used in applied healthcare research, including family medicine. While there are many definitions of longitudinal qualitative research (LQR), its most common characteristics are multiple data collection points and its focus on temporality, which prioritise the study of change and ...
Longitudinal qualitative methods are becoming increasingly used in the health service research, but the method and challenges particular to health care settings are not well described in the literature.We reflect on the strategies used in a longitudinal qualitative study to explore the experience of symptoms in cancer patients and their carers, following participants from diagnosis for twelve ...
This chapter reports the methods and findings from the longitudinal qualitative case study. In line with contemporary process evaluation guidance, this is an in-depth, pre-planned and theoretically driven longitudinal, comparative, qualitative case study to support understanding of two complex interventions that aim to reduce UI in women.53 In this chapter, we refer to the interview ...
Longitudinal research designs offer many strengths when compared to much more commonly used cross-sectional designs. The basic definition of longitudinal research designs requires multiple measurements over time, allowing researchers to investigate issues related to the speed, sequence, direction, and duration of changes in a wide range of outcomes ranging from biological and clinical measures ...
A qualitative, longitudinal, phenomenological case study explored how a gifted female experienced various life events and aspects of development during adolescence and young adulthood (ages 15 ...
A Longitudinal Case Study Methodology. Laurie M cLeod, Stephen G. MacDonell and Bill Doolin. Auckland University of Technology. Private Bag 92006, Auckland 1142, New Zealand. [email protected] ...
Dyscalculia is defined as a specific learning difference or neurodiversity. Despite a move within postgraduate medical education (PGME) towards promoting inclusivity and addressing differential attainment, dyscalculia remains an unexplored area. Using an interpretivist, constructivist, qualitative methodology, this scoping study explores PGME educators' attitudes, understanding and perceived ...
Qualitative Longitudinal Research. QLR is considered an "evolving methodology" that is rich and helpful in revealing an in-depth understanding of the evolution of people's lives and changes over time (Neale, 2016).It is unique in that it combines two methodologies, a longitudinal component with a qualitative lens (Neale, 2016).QLR has been especially useful for studies that investigate ...
In the special issue of Qualitative Research, different researchers apply discrete approaches to make sense of narrative stability and change in a set of case-studies from the Foley Longitudinal Study (Dunlop, 2019; Fivush et al., 2019; McLean et al., 2019; Pasupathi & Wainryb, 2019; Singer, 2019). Researchers and articles with separate ...
Introduction. Longitudinal qualitative research (LQR) is an emerging methodology in health behavior and nursing research—fields focused on generating evidence to support nursing practices as well as programs, and policies promoting healthy behaviors (Glanz et al., 2008; Polit & Beck, 2017).Because human experiences are rarely comprised of concrete, time-limited events, but evolve and change ...
Longitudinal analysis in strategic management. In D. KetchenD. Bergh ... The tumult over transparency: Decoupling transparency from replication in establishing trustworthy qualitative research. Administrative Science Quarterly, 65: 1-19. ... Case study research: Design and methods. Newbury Park, CA: SAGE.
Ethnographic approaches offer a method and a way of thinking about implementation. This manuscript applies a specific case study method to describe the impact of the longitudinal interplay between implementation stakeholders. Growing out of science and technology studies (STS) and drawing on the latent archaeological sensibilities implied by ethnographic methods, the STS case-study is a tool ...