Whence, and whither, family medicine: will it have role in improving our nation’s health?: Part 2

The 25th J. Jerry Rodos Lecture, presented at the 30th Annual Conference of Primary Care Access, Kauai, April 8, 2019:

Part II: More whence, and some whither family medicine

Family medicine introduced many great things to medical education. We had non-physician faculty in our departments and residencies, psychologists and educators, unheard of then. We valued education, and realized that just being a good doctor was not the same as being a good teacher, so created faculty development programs, including fellowships, often supported by Title VII grants. Our Board required recertification from the beginning, and no one, not even those who created it, were immune, or “grandfathered in”. Many of these innovations (if not the “no grandfathering”) were adopted later by other specialties, although not always crediting the discipline family medicine. And many specialties have not adopted them yet, still to their shame.

But, in the US, family medicine is still somewhat on the margins. It never completely took over as the centerpiece of the health system, not as in Canada or the UK. Much of the opposition has been regional, especially in the NE, and in cities where there were already plenty of doctors who did not want to give up control – or money (remember that word, money, we’ll be coming back to it). Of course, then, as now, most pundits who comment on medicine – actually, on all things – are, at least relatively, well to do. Poor people often adopt such attitudes as “specialists are better”, because they assume that what the rich have is better (bigger houses, better cars, certainly better doctors), although those of us who went to medical school know that that is not necessarily true. Our classmates who wanted to become elite subspecialists caring for the rich did that, and those who wanted to serve the needy did that, and it had little or nothing to do with class rank or skill. Of course, the obstacle to poor people getting what the rich get is, well, they don’t have, and so their doctors wouldn’t make, enoughmoney!!

The small-town white picket fence practice, of Marcus Welby and many fathers and grandfathers (less commonly mothers or grandmothers) of current FPs, such as many of those portrayed in Fitzhugh Mullan’s book ‘Big Doctoring’,[1]

may be mostly gone, but that model was long the darling of the RRC; those of us working in inner-city training settings often felt that the rules were written for someone else. 

Other issues confront us, sometimes divide us. Should the future of family medicine be about “full scope” practice, including caring for children, delivering babies, hospital work, emergency care, musculoskeletal care? Or should it be limited, specialized even (OB, geriatrics, sports medicine)?  Should we be using the term primary care or family medicine? What about general internal medicine? Pediatrics? GIM has pretty much abandoned the field, since 80% of IM graduates become subspecialists and over half the remainder become hospitalists. Should we just stop saying “primary care” and insist on “family medicine”?

Most of us recoil at the oft-heard-from-medical-students idea that GIM is family medicine without the OB and pediatrics. We think that there is a conceptual basis for our specialty that has to do with caring for the whole person and caring for them in the context of their lives, families and communities. Despite the concerns of the young Josh Freeman, this context is critical. The pediatrician cares about the health of the child she cares for, and likely that of the adult that child will become. The family physician also cares for both, but more concretely than the pediatrician experiences the health issues that adults face that often have at least part of their roots in their childhood experiences. In addition, the family doctor cares for that child’s family, and knows, for example, that the child’s mother is not just “mom” (I hate that usage!) but someone with their own problems, maybe a hard job, maybe not enough money, maybe a troubled relationship, maybe caring for her own parents, maybe with her own health issues. I have often said that if clinical sciences have associated basic sciences (like psychology for psychiatry, and anatomy for surgery) then anthropology is the basic science for family medicine because it examines people in the context of their families and communities.

Family medicine is also comprehensive, per se, by its nature. I was once able to recruit an anthropologist to our department because she wanted to work in that comprehensive context, and public health/preventive medicine didn’t really offer it. Preventive medicine is seen by some as holistic, but it segments just as medical specialties do: I do smoking, you do seat belts, she does bicycle helmets, he does violence. But the family physician has to address them all. We can’t say “wear your seat belt” but ignore “stop smoking”! Or, is that what we want FM to become? Geriatricians and sports medicine and women’s health? Hospitalists and ambulists, nocturnists and weekendists? (By the way, that anthropologist went on to help run the AAFP’s national research network.)

Sometimes the issue of how family physicians practice is formulated as a conflict between lifestyle and scope. Is that true? Maybe. Maybe it is good to not take call, or too much call, or have to round in the hospital or have to get up to deliver a baby in the middle of the night. But it may also be true that for a well-trained family doctor, 8-5 clinic patients can become drudgery. Sometimes teaching helps. And what about the issue of lifestyle vs lifestyle? People want to move to and practice in cool places to live, with a lot going on, stimulating cultural events and good educational systems. But these places may pay less money and cost more to live in. Besides your practice, do you want to be San Francisco poor or Nebraska well-to-do? That old white picket fence family doc may have had no conflict, but now young people do.

There have been lots of changes in the health system in my lifetime. Family medicine was created in the 1960s and grew to adolescence in the 1970s. In the 1980s we had lots of promise; Nixon pushed for HMOs, and in the 1990s we had gatekeepers – and different opinions about whether that was good or bad. Our best resident matches were in the late 1990s; no student wanted to be an anesthesiologist because they were afraid of not getting a job. But now ….

One study showed a student entering an anesthesiology residency can expect to make $7 million more in their lifetime than one entering family medicine. In this country. When I was in Denmark a few years ago I visited a rural family practice. In conversation, the doctor mentioned his daughter was married to an anesthesiologist. Tied to my own country’s norms I joked that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being supported in his retirement. Oh, he replied, in Denmark family doctors make more than anesthesiologists!

Is it all about money?

We have a health system that fails to focus on the health of the people. We have almost abandoned the concept of public health. Indeed, the currency of the term “population health” is more than a semantic difference. Populationhealth can be narrowly defined to be any population – the population of your practice, say -- and it can and does often leave people out. The people who are hard to care for, or don’t make money for us, or mess up our statistics.  Public health requires us to look at the WHOLE public. Eew! How messy!

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[1]Mullan, Fitzhugh. Big Doctoring in America: Profiles in Primary Care. Millbank. 2002.

Why don't we spend more on public health? It is harder to see the bullets we dodged -- and then there is profit.

“It Saves Lives. It Can Save Money. So Why Aren’t We Spending More on Public Health?”  (New York Times, May 28, 2018). Actually, this is a terrific question. As so often, it is complicated. Let’s start with the benefits that authors Aaron E. Carroll and Austin Frakt describe. First, there are vaccines. They eliminated smallpox and virtually eliminated polio in the United States. They have dramatically reduced the rate of common childhood illnesses including measles, mumps, rubella, chicken pox, and Hemophilus influenza (H. flu) infection. They have the potential for essentially wiping out cervical cancer through immunization against HPV, and liver cancer (as well as many forms of chronic hepatitis and cirrhosis) through vaccines against Hepatitis B.

A huge public health intervention is making our environment safer. This means having good sewage and clean water, and lead-free gasoline and cleaner air. These changes have saved far more lives, and improved health much more, than all of the individual medical care interventions combined. If you have traveled abroad, especially to less developed countries, you know how important these are. Indeed, better sanitation, as well as better surveillance and treatment, have dramatically reduced other infectious diseases that were once terribly feared, notably tuberculosis. And inspection of our food supply, restaurant and otherwise, are another very important part of public health.

The other big public health measure is education. Of course, education can be and is provided to individuals by health professionals as well as populations via public service education, but it is major nationwide public health efforts that have made a big difference. These include the huge decrease in cigarette smoking, and the greater safety of automobiles and their exhausts. Cigarette smoking used to be ubiquitous (see any WW2 movie) and in what would shock young Americans today, widely practiced in restaurants and even college lecture halls. Today that is unimaginable, and smoking in most places is aberrant, with less than 15% of adults currently smoking and most of those trying to quit. Car accidents are still a major cause of death and injury, but deaths from cars are way down. Almost none of this is related to people driving more safely and almost all of it to safer design of cars (think seat belts, air bags, engines that collapse down instead of back in a collision) and roads. Lead poisoning of children is way down in most places in the US thanks to lead being banned from gasoline and paint.

There are still many challenges on the public health front. Reducing the rate of chronic diseases though education around eating huge numbers of empty calories still have a long way to go. The terrible infectious disease epidemic of recent decades, HIV, has been greatly reduced by treatment, but until there is a vaccine, high-risk sexual behaviors persist. The opioid epidemic is killing more and more people, and it is only through societal approaches that this is going to be reduced.

The epidemic of gun death is not abating; many studies and articles in the press have recently discussed the increase in the suicide rate, often prompted by recent high-profile suicides such as those of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain (How Suicide Quietly Morphed Into a Public Health Crisis; 5 Takeaways on America’s Increasing Suicide Rate, ). While neither Spade or Bourdain used a gun, guns are the cause of death in at least half of suicides, and suicide far exceeds homicide in terms of numbers of gun deaths. Those who believe it is not the availability of guns that causes deaths from both causes, and other methods could be used to kill oneself or others, are simply wrong. Easy availability of guns, far more effective and efficient at killing oneself or others than any other method, absolutely has been demonstrated to increase both homicide and suicide. Suicide by gun is over 90% effective; by drugs less than 5%. “Successful” suicide rates are far higher in high gun states (e.g., Montana) than in low-gun states (e.g., Massachusetts). Homicides are also more common where guns are at hand. And, in regard to school and other mass shootings, while you can kill someone with a knife or a baseball bat, but it is hard to commit mass murder with them.

So, why do we not spend more on public health? Why do we spend so much more on what is, from a societal point of view, much less effective individual health interventions, and less than 5% of that on public health? One reason, of course, is that when each of us is sick, we (usually) want treatment, as much as possible, especially if there is a chance that it could cure us, or at least ease our suffering. This is understandable, and it is tied to the fact that we have much greater awareness of treatment of something ailing us (curing our infection, relieving our pain) than of not having disease because of the presence of public health practices. As I would tell students, how often do we wake up thankful that we do not have cholera because we have a clean water supply? Indeed, when we find that the water in Flint, MI, is contaminated with lead, we are shocked because we assume our water is safe; when we find an E. coli outbreak from a restaurant, we are shocked because we assume our food is safe.

There is also, unsurprisingly, the issue of the money that to be made. The provision of public health is rarely a big profit center, and it is usually, therefore, done by government – local, state, and federal. Individual health care, however, is a huge money-maker for insurance companies, hospitals, doctors, pharmaceutical and device manufacturers, nursing home companies, and on and on. All that money – over $3.3 TRILLION by recent estimate -- spent on your and other individuals, while it may (or may not) have a salubrious impact on you, is going into someone’s pocket. On the flip side, public health interventions often reduce profit, especially when they are very effective. The struggle against tobacco, which killed more people than any other cause by far, was fought long and hard by the tobacco companies (currently now plying their wares in the less-developed world).Each of the changes to cars that led to the great increases in safety was fought by the industry. Today, we continue to see tremendous opposition to rules that make our environment (air, water) clean and safe; sadly, under the current administration, many of these rules are being rolled back, which will absolutely decrease our society’s health.

I guess I also need to address the people who believe that vaccines are unsafe. They are a major threat, and presumably haven’t seen children dying of measles, of the suffering of chicken pox and mumps, of the morbidity from H. flu infections of the middle ear (my students have never seen it!) or deaths from H. flu epiglottitis. Yes, there can be minor side effects from some vaccines, but the benefit is overwhelming.

Finally, as always finally, it is the poor and disenfranchised who suffer the worst. While sometimes we have the perverse satisfaction of outbreaks of vaccine-preventable diseases in well-to-do communities, anti-vaxxers unconscionably campaign in immigrant/refugee communities telling people to not vaccinate their children. The poor and minority city of Flint suffers a poisoned water supply. The oldest, cheapest houses are likeliest to have peeling lead paint and be located near polluting factories and dumps. Tobacco and junk food manufacturers advertise most heavily in minority neighborhoods. And, of course, the murder rate is highest in poor and minority communities.

Good medical care for individuals is valuable when it is needed, and could be less expensive. Public health measures are even more valuable and cost-effective. We need to increase the money and effort spent upon public health interventions, and certainly not scale them back.

Benjamin Franklin said an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. It’s true, and is a great argument for greater investment in public health.

Black men being killed by police: A public health epidemic

“Let’s do it to them before they do it to us,” was the line with which Sgt. Stan Jablonski (played by Robert Proskey) dispatched his troops on the old TV show Hill Street Blues. When Sgt. Jablonski replaced Sgt. Phil Esterhaus (on the death of actor Michael Conrad) they had to come up with a replacement for Esterhaus’ “Let’s be careful out there”. Perhaps the show’s writers felt it was ok coming from the shorter, pudgier actor than the 6’6” Conrad, but it has a very different meaning and very different connotation, an “us against them”.

Presumably the “them” was bad guys, not the regular folks that the police were supposed to be there to “protect and serve” but now, 30 years after the show went off the air, we realize how much this was, sadly, prescient. I am not going to recite the names of all the black men – and children – killed by police in recent years, including Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, Philando Castile, but it is an epidemic. Yes, more white people have been killed by police than black in both 2016and2017 – about twice as many – but the proportions are way off given that just over 12% of the population of the US is black. And what has been even more graphic is the lack of convictions, and frequently even prosecutions, of the perpetrators.

If these deaths were not at the hands of police, but rather had a different cause – an odd virus that struck down black men when being confronted by the police, or a very selective alien attack, we would not hesitate to call it an epidemic and search for the cause. But this issue is political, it is personal, it is an “us” against “them”, raising the issue is seen by many to be attack on the police, who heroically and at great risk to themselves protect us from evil. Certainly, the Governing Council (GC) of the American Public Health Association (APHA), by far the largest public health association in the nation, did not choose to identify the killing of black men by police as a public health epidemic when it voted, 65%-35%, against a resolution so designating it at the recent meeting in Atlanta. The resolution had been introduced a year before, and sent by the GC back to the authors to make changes to the language, which was done. But it was not sufficient.

If it was the language, felt, for example, to be denigrating to police, that was the issue, members of the group could have introduced and passed amendments to correct it. This point was made (after the vote) by APHA immediate past President Camara Jones, MD MPH PhD. But it was not the issue; the GC (and thus, the APHA) did not want to take a stand identifying the killing of black men by police in the United States as a public health epidemic. Speakers against the resolution cited personal but irrelevant concerns like “my brother is a policeman, and he is a good man”, as well as saying “the data is not sufficient to make the case that it is an epidemic”, which is patently false. The vote was portrayed as a scientific decision, but it was clearly a political one, a decision by the overwhelmingly white group to put their fingers in their ears, their hands over their eyes, and shut their mouths rather than standing up and saying “this is a problem”.

Many of these killings have been of people (usually men, but sometimes women or children) who were not involved in committing crimes. They result from the heightened suspicion police hold of black people in general. If you don’t believe that, you’re probably white. Just before the vote, I was at an session at the meeting discussing police violence against black men. Most of the group was minority (predominantly black) and were relatively young public health professionals, students, and junior faculty in schools of public health. A couple of speakers introduced the issue, but then opened the floor. One by one, in random order, unrehearsed, person after person in the group talked about their fears and their experiences; these were not prepared in advance, but slowly came out, one giving rise to another. A government employee noted that she had two young sons, and worried about their safety. Another woman, a public health professional, noted that her flight to Atlanta departed at 5:30am, so she’d left her home in a mostly-white suburb at 3:30am to go to the airport. She was followed by a police car all the way into the city. Another woman, a professor, talked about driving to a neighboring state and being followed by a police car that eventually stopped her for no reason or violation; in the process the officer asked “if you’re a teacher, why aren’t you in school?” The stories went on and on, from the mouths of professional people, most of them, in fact, women. 

Although many people would disagree, often virulently in with this age of Trump giving loud voice to aggrieved white men, being white in America is a privilege. It is a privilege of not thinking that you will be followed by police, or pulled over by them, or subjected to inappropriately probing questions by them. It creates an illusion, obviously held by the majority of the GC of the APHA, that it is mostly criminals, or “probably-criminals”, or people who look like they might be criminals, who are followed by, stopped by, and sometimes killed by police. But that is not the experience of black people in this country, not the black men shot by a police officer who makes up a story about being threated, nor of the middle-class professionals who told their stories at that APHA session. It is not the experience of the young woman who drove me to the Atlanta airport from the conference; in talking she said she had a 3-year old son and I asked if she feared for his safety not just from gangs but from police. In response she said she did, and pointed to a button hanging from her rear-view mirror and said “my uncle was killed by the police 3 years ago”. I don’t know what occurred with her uncle beyond what she told me, but I suspect it is not fate, coincidence, or Kismet that caused my driver to have her own story to tell, but rather the ubiquity of this experience among black people in America.

What about the police? Don’t we have to worry about the safety of the people who risk their lives each day to protect us? What about the fact that there are many (if not enough) minority police officers? To identify the current situation, not only the killings but the very real sense of most black people in this country that they do not have the same rights as whites, that they are, by definition, “suspicious” because of their color, does not require denigration of all police officers. Indeed, the families (especially male family members) of black police officers, and even the officers themselves when off-duty, experience the same indignities (and worse) as other black people.

It does mean that the idea that a police officer’s first loyalty is to other officers rather than to the community that they “protect and serve” must be very narrowly construed. Rather than a “thin blue line” of brothers (always, it seems, brothers, not sisters), it means that we should have tighter standards for police, excluding those who are overtly and viciously violent and racist. It means better training in identifying a situation in which you see through your prejudice and not through reality, and how to de-escalate. It means that when an officer kills a person innocent of a crime, it is not enough for other officers to have not “done it”; they must, if they were unable to prevent it, disclose it and discourage it and, yes, testify against the perpetrator. Police officers who do so are not “traitors”, they are heroes who allow the force to be thought of as we want to think of them.

The fact that even the most respectable and middle-class black people have to fear interactions with police (even when they are the ones who have called them!) is a societal scandal. The enormously disproportionate killing of black men by police is an epidemic, and like all epidemics we must identify it as such, find the cause, and treat it.

Even the APHA should be able to acknowledge that.

Trump's "bad doctors": mostly greedy and bad for the public's health

My recent post, Doctors and health reform: maybe they do stand for health!, March 25, 2017, lauded the positions of many medical organizations, including the American Medical Association (AMA) for their positions in opposition to the American Health Care Act (AHCA), the Trump-Ryan bill that never even got to a vote, and apparently was never even available to House members to read before the vote was scheduled.  But I also pointed out some “bad” doctors, defined as those who advocate policies that are bad for the health of the American people. They argue that they are really for health, but this means mostly health care, especially medical care, for those who can afford it. There is no small tinge of racism as well as classism in these positions, because poor people and minorities are those most likely to be left out, and because, well, these perpetrators don’t care.

The prime example I cited was Secretary of Health and Human Services Tom Price, who, as a representative from a wealthy suburban Atlanta House district, continuously railed against the Affordable Care Act (ACA), as well as, in fact, Medicare. Dr. Price is an orthopedic surgeon, and my essay noted that this specialty is over-represented in the cohort of opponents of expansion of access, possibly because their high average income puts them in an elite economic group, and many are more concerned with their self-interest than the health of the overall population. Price was not the only bad doctor I mentioned; I also cited the “tone-deaf” comments of Rep. Roger Marshall of Kansas, an obstetrician-gynecologist. “Tone deaf”, of course, is a mild and polite term for his racist, classist comments, summarized as “the poor just don’t want health care”. Tone deaf, by the way, is also the term commonly used to describe the demeaning commercialization of the Black Lives Matter protest movement evident in Pepsi’s commercial featuring Kendall Jenner, now mercifully withdrawn. That was a result of the strong and sustained protest of a large number of people, especially on social media.

Price and Marshall are abetted by the non-physician politicians in Congress and the administration who also would deny health care to a lot of people, and even, through changes in Medicare and Medicaid, make the coverage of many people who now feel moderately secure in their insurance status greatly at risk and much more expensive. Speaker of the House Paul Ryan and Vice President Mike Pence met with the “Freedom” Caucus of the House to discuss just how regressive a health care bill would have to be to get their support. Pretty bad, it turns out. Its chairman, Rep. Mark Meadows of NC, is quoted by the NY Times as saying “Lower premiums have to be our first and only priority. By repealing community rating and the essential health benefits, it allows for lower premiums across the board.”Well, lower premiums are something everyone wants (except probably insurance companies) but there are different ways to get there. “Repealing community rating” means that insurers would no longer have to cover people who have chronic disease and are often older (and, ironically, often Trump and Freedom Caucus voters) at the same rates as less sick people. Those people would not have lower premiums; their premiums would either be fantastically higher, as they were before the ACA passed (and when many of them were without coverage) or be altogether unavailable. This is not something that the vast majority of Americans want. Similarly, “essential health benefits” are, well, essential. Like, for example, maternity care, and preventive health care. The fact that Rep. Meadows used that word and didn’t replace it with some euphemism, illustrates how tone-deaf he is.

But not all doctors who I would characterize as “bad” are reactionaries who are trying to figure out how to deny health care to the American people. Some are just traditionally greedy, seeking to fill their own pockets with as much money as possible. This is not a problem limited to the right; even folks who are progressive on social policies can be guilty of “going where the money is”. An excellent example is Trump’s nominee to head the FDA, Dr. Scott Gottlieb. Gottlieb, like many researchers, has been highly paid (at least on the order of hundreds of thousands of dollars) by drug manufacturers. Gottlieb assures us that this will not affect his decision making at FDA, and that he can be trusted, as in the title of the NY Times article of April 5, 2017, in which he “deflected” criticism. While some Democrats, like Sen. Patty Murray of Washington, noted that he had ‘“unprecedented financial entanglements with the industries he would regulate,”’ Republicans like Lamar Alexander of Tennessee agreed with Dr. Gottlieb that “his experience with the pharmaceutical industry would be an asset in regulating it.” This is terrific tortured fox-guarding-the-henhouse logic, like having Goldman Sachs financiers regulating Wall Street, or petroleum company flaks running EPA (which we, in fact, have). This concept worked fine on “It Takes a Thief”, but not so much in real life.

Taking huge amounts of money from drug companies may be morally reprehensible (or not, depending on your view; in mine it is), but more concerning are the positions that Gottlieb has taken. While he is open (he says now) to lowering drug prices by importing drugs from Canada, something Trump has occasionally voiced support for, he has previously written against it (when he was in the pay of the drug companies). The issue is what the policies pursued by the FDA, HHS, CMS, and the overall Trump administration and Congress regarding the people’s health will be. Disrespect for preventive care (“essential services”) and environmental pollution bodes very poorly for public health, as the core principle of “cut benefits” does for medical care. And, as always, the most vulnerable – from poverty, age, illness, geographic region – will suffer the most.  It would be really good if we could count on doctors like Price, Marshall and Gottlieb to protect the health of the people, but don’t count on it. We are going to need huge public protest, at least as big as those that ending up canceling the Pepsi commercial.

Well, it could be worse. Another physician, Dr. Bashar al-Assad, is gassing his own people with chemical weapons. And there was also Dr. Josef Mengele. So far, none of Trump’s nominees are in that league.

The cost of health care: insurance companies, high-profit and low value care

We know that health care in the US is incredibly expensive. Those who read about health policy from a variety of sources (perhaps including this blog) know this in terms of data – our per capita cost is 50% more than the second highest-cost nation (Norway), twice what most comparable (rich) countries spend, and almost 3 times that of the United Kingdom. But you don’t have to be a policy wonk to know that health care is expensive; you just have to be a consumer who is trying to buy health insurance and is seeing their premiums go up – and their out-of-pocket costs (deductibles, co-pays, co-insurance) go up as well. All those other countries cover everyone, equitably, despite spending so much less money (and those that spend more, like Norway, have especially good coverage). Not so here.

“My premiums are more than $600 a month, which is more than our mortgage payment,” a cancer survivor quoted by the New York Timesin its August 14, 2016 article by Robert Pear “Health insurers use process intended to curb rate increases to justify them”, said. “I am grateful that the Affordable Care Act is here for my family, but I am disappointed by its limitations. All I want is a plan that makes our health care affordable, but it doesn’t exist.” She is likely to be disappointed, because this was not how the Affordable Care Act (ACA) was set up, and unless control of Congress changes dramatically, we probably will not see a fix. ACA passed because it guaranteed continued profit for insurance companies, and this has led to both the rate increases and out-of-pocket cost increases we have seen. Insurance companies can do this because the law allows them to ask for premium hikes when they are not making “enough” money. Essentially, ACA requires the American people (subsidized by the federal government if they are poor) to ensure private insurance companies are profitable. Because they believe that they have not been permitted to jack up rates “enough”, some companies (Humana, United, Ætna) are leaving the exchanges in many places.

While other counties make sure everyone is covered by some national health insurance (a national health service in the UK, a single-payer national health insurance system in Canada, and highly-regulated multi-payer systems in many other European countries such as France, Germany, and Switzerland), we have tried a patchwork that leaves many people out (e.g., the undocumented, poor people in the 19 states that haven’t expanded Medicaid), and encourages others to buy policies on the health insurance exchanges based solely on their cost. This is examined in a story by Reed Abelson in the Times from August 12, 2016, “Cost, not choice, is top concern of health insurance customers”. It notes that people who are healthy and young but don’t have employer-based health insurance are either buying the cheapest policies available on the exchanges or “particularly those not eligible for generous subsidies, are shunning plans altogether, finding all of the prices too high.” When they don't buy insurance, it messes with the insurance company model of offsetting costs for sick people with the premiums paid by healthy people, the reason for increasing premiums. And many other people, neither young nor healthy, are also buying the cheapest policy they can find because they can’t afford the cost (and maybe can’t understand the details); for these folks, it is not the insurance companies that pay the financial price, but themselves, when they get hospitalized or otherwise need costly care and discover that their “insurance” is inadequate (the technical term here is “crap”).

And this is just the health insurance contribution to high health care cost. Also very important is the cost of the care itself, particularly high-tech, high-cost care, provided to many Americans (at least those with good insurance coverage). This is driven, at least currently, by the fact that in most places, where insurance companies pay providers by piecework (“fee-for-service”), high-cost is also high-profit for providers, both individual physicians and the large institutional providers (hospitals and health systems) that often employ them. This blog, and a variety of exposés in many news articles including in the Times (particularly the work of Elisabeth Rosenthal) have given example after example of such incentives driving both the kind of care delivered and the cost of that care. In the worst instances, this is the result of rapacious greed that provides unnecessary care at very high cost. In many other settings, the opportunity for profit subtly (I hope) tips the scales toward providing high-cost, high-profit services rather than just as good, or almost as good, alternatives. But there are even more insidious drivers of cost; these are in the “everyday tests”, such as those done for screening, that in themselves, one by one, don’t seem to be excessive but multiplied by the number of people receiving them cost a lot (and make a lot of money for providers). The practice of ordering such tests is often driven by advocacy groups, providers in certain specialties and relatively small numbers of people with a specific condition who think everyone needs to be tested for it.

A good example is screening for lipid disorders (basically, high cholesterol) in children. Yes, some children have a genetic disorder which means that they should be tested and treated, but the vast majority do not and screening them (barring a history of familial hyperlipidemia or very early heart attacks) should not be done. It is not recommended by either the US Preventive Services Task Force or the American Academy of Family Physicians (AAFP), nor by the UK National Screening Committee. This example is discussed in an outstanding editorial in JAMA Internal Medicine by Thomas B. Newman, Alan R. Schroeder, and Mark J. Pletcher published on August 9, 2016, titled “Lipid screening in children: Low-value care”, preceded by the tagline “Less is more.” The authors contrast the USPSTF and AAFP recommendations to those of the National Heart, Lung and Blood Institute of the NIH, endorsed by the American Academy of Pediatrics, which recommends it. The authors of the editorial demonstrate the amazing lack of cost-effectiveness for this screening test, and note that is only because USPSTF does not consider cost-effectiveness that it gave the test an “I” (insufficient evidence to recommend for or against”) and not a “D” (recommend against testing).

But the most important point made in the editorial is that our recommendations for testing – and how to spend our healthcare dollars – are individually focused, and virtually ignore (and thus dramatically underfund) those interventions in public health and the social determinants of health that would truly make a major difference in the health of millions of Americans. The authors say it extremely well:

Tackling major public health concerns such as climate change, poverty, obesity, and gun violence is likely to yield high-value solutions, and many advocate policy and community-level interventions that might achieve such solutions. Meanwhile, other segments of our health care establishment continue to try to solve health problems by doubling down on individual-level health care solutions that tend to be low in value...The need for clinicians and leaders to focus on sustainability and health care value has never been greater, and it is likely that policy and community-based interventions will get us there much more quickly than adding more clinic-based interventions that have low value and are wasteful of resources and clinicians’ time.

We need to take this advice to heart. It goes way beyond lipid screening in children. It means supporting interventions that actually  improve the health of the public on a large scale. And, as always, “support” is spelled M-O-N-E-Y.

Flint, lead, medical heroes, O-rings and guns

In January, 1986, 73 seconds after lift-off, the space shuttle Challenger exploded, killing all 7 astronauts on board, including one of the first civilians to go up, New Hampshire teacher Christa McAuliffe. It was a disaster; indeed the words are now paired so that we always say “Challenger disaster”. The cause was a flaw in the design of the solid rocket boosters (“SRB”s) and in the now famous “O-rings”, flexible rubber seals, like max versions of the ones we see on a lot of home tools. It was perhaps the worst domestic disaster of its time, nine years before the 1995 domestic-terrorist white-power bombing in Oklahoma City, almost 16 years before the attack on 9/11. It was a disaster in two ways; the obvious one, the explosion, and in that it could have been prevented; NASA and the company that produced the SRBs, Morton Thiokol, knew about the problem.

Morton Thiokol engineers, and particularly one named Roger Boisjoly, had been worried about the problem for years; Boisjoly had expressed his particular concerns in 1985. Morton Thiokol managers considered telling NASA to scrap the launch, and then decided not to. After the disaster, Boisjoly testified before a commission about the problem, and about the warnings that he had sent to his bosses. In 1988 he was awarded the Award for Scientific Freedom and Responsibility by the American Association for the Advancement of Science. He was shunned and at Morton Thiokol, and resigned. He was right; Morton Thiokol and NASA were wrong, and it led to a disaster. And he was out of a job.

In 2014, Michigan Governor Rick Snyder appointed an emergency manager named Darnell Earley, for the bankrupt city of Flint. One of his cost-cutting measures was to stop buying treated Lake Huron water from the Detroit system and instead supply water from the Flint River. The river was full of corrosives, from decades of industrial discharge, and one effect was to degrade the old lead pipes in many Flint homes, dramatically increasing the lead levels in the water. And in the bodies of Flint’s children. The politics of the decision are continuing to play out, with calls for Snyder’s resignation, and it would have been corrupt and evil even if the problem had been identified and remedied earlier. It wasn’t, and thus became a disaster. Good piece on it in Rolling Stone.

Again, we have a hero, a Flint pediatrician named Mona Hanna-Attisha. Dr. Hanna-Attisha had heard that a team from Virginia Tech had found high lead levels in Flint’s water, and noted that she was seeing a rise in the number of children with high lead levels. She led a team doing “the easiest research project I have ever done”; because Medicaid requires children to be tested for lead at 1 and 2 years of age, she was able to compare the prevalence of high levels from 2013 to 2015.  The percentage of children with elevated lead levels “doubled in the whole city, and in some neighborhoods, it tripled. And it directly correlated with where the water lead levels were the highest” she noted in an interview on “Democracy Now”. She announced it at a press conference, and was immediately attacked by the powers-that-be (I call them the “PTB”); in this case both the political leaders of the state and the state health department.

Well, that evening, we were attacked. So I was called an "unfortunate researcher," that I was causing near hysteria, that I was splicing and dicing numbers, and that the state data was not consistent with my data. And as a scientist, as a researcher, as a professional, you double-check and you triple-check, and the numbers didn’t lie. And we knew that. But when the state, with a team of like 50 epidemiologists, tells you you’re wrong, you second-guess yourself. But that lasted just a short period, and we regrouped and told them why, "No, you were wrong." And after about a week and a half or two weeks, after some good conversations, they relooked at their numbers and finally said that the state’s findings were consistent with my findings.

There is a long and distinguished tradition of doctors making breakthrough discoveries that helped cure or prevent disease in thousands or millions of people. Some of the most storied are Edward Jenner, the 18^thcentury physician who invented the vaccine to prevent smallpox, 19^thcentury physicians John Snow, who discovered that the contaminated water from a particular pump in London was the cause of a cholera outbreak, Ignaz Semmelweis, who showed that doctors washing their hands could prevent deaths in post-partum women, Rudolf Virchow, the “father of social medicine”, who showed an outbreak of typhus among miners was the result of the social conditions they lived in, Louis Pasteur, Robert Koch, and Joseph Lister who proved that germs caused those diseases, and 20^thcentury doctor Jonas Salk, who found the vaccine against polio. Does Mona Hanna-Attisha’s work rise to this standard?

Well, it may not in terms of the total lives saved, although it is worth noting that, like the work noted above, it is about public health, about populations, not individual interventions, and thus has a great impact on so many (despite the fact that in the US at least 95% of all “health spending” is on individual medical care, not public health). But she is heroic in that she stood for the truth and for the health of the children in defiance of the powerful who were trying to minimize or cover up the problem, and who tried for a while the “best defense is a good offense” strategy of attacking her, shamefully. Indeed, this is what it takes to be a hero, to not only do something important that has an impact on many, but even more to do it when you have to stand against the establishment, the PTB, the powers-that-be. This takes a great deal of courage, as well as commitment.

In Kansas, the legislature legalized concealed-carry of guns a couple of years ago, but exempted schools and hospitals until July 2017. As that date approaches in 18 months, there is little indication that the exemption will be extended, and there is great concern. A recent survey found that 70% of faculty and staff at the 6 state Regents universities oppose the law. Faculty are worried about telling students that they are failing them while they sit in their offices armed; doctors worry that if a crazy person pulls a gun in clinic, several others will draw down and make it more dangerous, police worry that they won’t even know who created the original threat. The data shows that there is a real risk of more homicide with more access and carriage of guns; “natural studies” of homicides showed a marked increase after Missouri eliminated its permit laws in 2007 and decrease after Connecticut tightened its laws after Sandy Hook.[1] [2] Moreover, 60% of gun deaths are suicides, and these are also dramatically decreased by making guns less easily accessible.[3]  Doctors and researchers need to speak out about the public health implications of easier access to guns. Luckily, many are; others are worried that perhaps the notoriously-vindictive Kansas legislature may respond by cutting funding for the university. These people will not become heroes, but they may keep their jobs and their funding.

Being a whistleblower is not easy. It is not a way to have a calm, peaceful life. Some folks have made a lot of money and retired far from those they blew the whistle on, but many more I know of are, like Roger Boisjoly, are shunned, forced out of their jobs, threatened, and may even suffer PTSD. It is not easy to take on the PTB. Better to work in their interests; for his great work as emergency manager in Flint, Darrell Earley has just been named emergency head of the Detroit Public Schools!

The full impact of the Flint lead-poisoning disaster is not yet known, because the full impact of these elevated lead levels on the brains and bones of Flint’s largely poor and African-American children will take years to take their toll. Even then, and even if, because they are treated the damage is limited, we will never know what kid who grew up seemingly ok and normal might otherwise have been brilliant.

She might have become a doctor, maybe even a heroic one like Dr. Hanna-Attisha.

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[1] Rudolph, KE et al., Association Between Connecticut’s Permit-to-Purchase Handgun Law and Homicides Am J Public Health. 2015;105:e49–e54. doi:10.2105/AJPH.2015.302703

[2]Webster D, et al., Effects of the Repeal of Missouri’s Handgun Purchaser Licensing Law on Homicides, Journal of Urban Health: Bulletin of the New York Academy of Medicine, Vol. 91, No. 2, doi:10.1007/s11524-014-9865-8

[3]  Crifasi CK et al., Effects of changes in permit-to-purchase handgun laws in Connecticut

and Missouri on suicide rates, Preventive Medicine 79 (2015) 43–49

Our health is going downhill: poor public health and poor attention to the social determinants

“Our health is going downhill” shouts a headline in the Kansas City Star, January 4, 2009. The local take of this article, by Alan Bavley, was the poor performance of Kansas and Missouri, the two states served by the Star, on the 2014 report on America’s Health Rankings, published by the United Health Foundation, the longest-running ranking of public health status in the nation, since 1990. Bavley emphasizes that both states have dropped significantly in those rankings; Kansas was 12^th in 1990 and is now 27^th; Missouri was 24^th in 1990 and is now 36^th.

This leads to a lengthy discussion of why both states have dropped, mainly attributed to a lack of investment in public health, and how there is a geographic disparity, with states on the coasts doing overall better than those in the Midwest: “What explains this dramatic difference between the coasts and the Midwest is broad investments on the coasts in things that make communities healthy,” Bavley quotes Patrick Remington of the University of Wisconsin. What this misses, however, is the even worse news that is hidden by “rankings” data. While in rankings of states there will always be a #1 (in this case, Hawaii) and a #50 (you guessed it, Mississippi) this hides the fact that, overall, states have gotten worse over this 25-year period. The graphs in the print edition of the Star (not included in the on-line edition) show the decrease in rankings noted above for the two states over time. However, on the “America’s Health Rankings” website one can not only look at the map showing relative state rankings but also click on each state and see how its absolute health ratings have changed over time.

Hawaii, ranked #1 in 2014 (Vermont is ranked #1 for the whole 25-year period), has nonetheless had its health status drop quite dramatically since 1990, while Mississippi, #50, has actually slightly improved. Locally, Kansas’ health status has dropped significantly consistent with its slippage in the rankings, but Missouri’s, after a big dip in the intervening years, is about the same as it was in the mid-1990s, despite its lower ranking. How can this happen? How can Missouri drop 12 places in the rankings despite having about the same health status if the top-ranked states are getting worse? The only explanation is that the gap was even greater in the past, and that some states in the middle, such as Illinois (#30) and Pennsylvania (#28) have gotten better while Missouri has stayed the same. Hawaii has dropped from a rating of +0.7 to +0.3, while Mississippi has gone from -0.4 to -0.3. Dr. Remington’s comments may be accurate, but they were more accurate in 1990, and since then states have seen a race to the middle, if not the bottom, in terms of public health.

The rankings above are the “all outcomes” rankings from the United Health Foundation studies. They are composed of several subcategories. One component lowering these overall outcomes is the obesity rates, which have risen nationally from 11.6% in 1990 to 29.4% in 2014 (!) as well as in every individual state. Diabetes has risen nationally from 4.4% to 9.6%. Physical inactivity has stayed relatively constant, but distressingly high, at nearly 75%. On the other hand, the last measure, smoking, has gone down nationally from 29.5% to 17.6%, but has tended to stay the same over many years more in lower-ranked states, such as Mississippi, Missouri, and even Kansas.  The study ranks senior health separately, but this tracks pretty well with overall health; Hawaii is the best, Kansas is 25, Missouri is 42, and Kentucky replaces Mississippi (#47) as the worst. The study also examines rankings for a variety of other characteristics, some of which are different for the overall population and for seniors. They include chronic drinking (seniors), binge drink (all adults), depression (seniors), etc., as well as societal measures which might impact or “confound” health status including education level, percent of “able bodied” (no disability) adults and percent of children in poverty.

The study also provides us with information on health disparities, obesity levels by different sub-populations, based on education, race/ethnicity, age, gender, urbanicity, and income. Two non-surprises: the South and South Central regions do the worst, and the problem is greater for those with lower education, non-white race/ethnicity, and lower income; urban status and age have less impact. In terms of educational impact on health disparity (the difference between the highest and lowest educated in terms of health status), things change: Hawaii is still #1 but Mississippi is #2, while California is #50! Unfortunately, for many of the states with both low overall health status and low disparity, it means that even the better-educated have poor health status.

So what do we learn? Yes, as Dr. Remington points out, some parts of the country generally do better than others (although identifying these as the Northeast , West, and North Central  regions is more accurate than saying “the coasts”), and the South and South Central regions tend to be worse. Yes, as Mr. Bavley highlights, both Kansas and Missouri have significantly slipped in the relative rankings. But we also see the whole country getting worse, particularly with regard to conditions such as obesity and diabetes. And we see the most dramatic drops in certain states, not only Kansas but Wisconsin (down from +.38 to barely positive at all, +.07). The people interviewed for the Bavley article in Kansas and Missouri, as noted above, cite inadequate, and decreasing, spending on public health as the reason.

It is certainly one of the big reasons, along with a consumer society that encourages consumption of high-calorie, low nutrition foods. And a car-based society that makes exercise a specialty activity, more available to some than others, rather than part of life. And a terrible economy where a shocking number of people don’t have jobs and others have to hold down two or more to make ends meet so have little time for exercise. The other huge reason are those “social determinants of health”; the impact of poverty, racism, poor education, inadequate housing and food. The social structure and social support for the most needy in the US has never been adequate, and is eroding, more in some states than in others, sometimes on purpose (because of political beliefs) and sometimes by a (possibly) more benign neglect.

Some of it is the chronic problem of public health, that its successes are the absence of disease and thus less obvious. It is easier to feel grateful for treatment of a disease we have contracted than, say (as I have often said before) to be grateful each morning that we don’t have cholera because we have clean water. It is, perhaps for some, easier to think we don’t need to vaccinate our children when diseases that the vaccines prevent are no longer in evidence. But it is a fatally flawed analysis. When a good has resulted from doing effective preventive efforts, the solution is to keep up our efforts, whether vaccination or public health.

And cutting back on our social safety net is a good prescription for worse health.

Ebola, risk, and the public's health

My friend Allen Perkins received a text from his college-student daughter asking if she should be worried about the Ebola virus. His reply, discussed in “Ebola virus and the dread factor” in his excellent blog, “Training Family Doctors” was “Are you considering moving to west Africa?” This was wise and profound fatherly advice, based upon an understanding of the epidemiology of disease. While is it obviously a serious problem in West Africa (particularly Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea), it is not in the United States. Many other things are much more of a threat in the US, including, as Allen points out, “death from bee stings” (100 per year in the US).

Ebola might someday become a significant problem in the US, but it is unlikely and is not now. Many other health problems are. College students like Allen’s daughter should be sure that they have all their recommended immunizations for diseases that can be prevented by vaccine, including HPV and meningococcus, a very serious and often deadly cause of meningitis that can become epidemic where young people live together in close quarters, like college dormitories (and army bases). Yet, many do not receive these immunizations for reasons that range from passively not getting it done (less of a problem in schools where it is required) to having beliefs, or having parents who have beliefs, that vaccines are dangerous and should be avoided (in some cases this can trump school requirements). They are, by the way, wrong. The net benefit far outstrips the risk. Having your child get meningococcal meningitis and die or have serious brain damage, or get cervical cancer, is not something you want.

But focusing on conditions over which we have little or no control, rather than the ones we do, is fairly epidemic in this country (and likely others). Dr. Perkins focuses on the “dread factor”, about how news reports (not to mention thriller movies) whip up fear about these diseases. On the other hand, mostly what we can do is fear them, while the diseases which we individually might be able to have an impact on would require us to have to maybe do something hard: change our diet, start exercising, stop smoking, not drink so much or at the wrong times. I have written in the past about a patient who had a terror of breast cancer, a disease for which she was not at an increased risk based both on her youth and lack of family history. On the other hand, she did not seem particularly worried about the health risks of her uncontrolled high blood pressure, smoking two packs of cigarettes a day, or having unprotected sex with several different men.

Most of us can see that this is not logical, and maybe even snicker a little about her poor decision making. But it is only a little extreme. Many, perhaps most, of us, could do a better job of eating right, of exercising, of not smoking or drinking excessively (which for many people is “at all”). If not Allen’s daughter, many of her classmates are at much greater risk from going out and getting drunk on a weekend night, increasing their risk of motor vehicle accidents, sexual assault, poor judgment in choosing voluntary sexual encounters, and long term habituation for those with a predilection for or family history of alcoholism, just for starters. But taking action to prevent such bad outcomes is hard, requires effort, and often means not doing things we like in the short term, such as eating tasty-but-unhealthful foods, drinking with friends, smoking when we are addicted to nicotine, driving when we (or the driver) is only a “little drunk”, or having to do unpleasant exercise. Or it can conflict with our self-image: wearing a bicycle or motorcycle helmet, eschewing doing things that our friends are doing. Worrying about things that we can do nothing about, like breast cancer or Ebola, may be a little irrational, but it is in some way comforting because if the bad thing happens we are an innocent victim.

In addition, there are actions a society can take, that could make even more of a difference from a public health, population health, point of view, saving more lives, but these require political will. Sadly, this is often more lacking than individual will. Guns are the prime example; many state legislatures and legislators make it a point of personal pride to advocate for there being no restrictions at all on what kind of guns (e.g., automatic weapons) and ammunition (e.g., armor piercing bullets) people can have or where they can carry them (everywhere, open or concealed). Helmets and alcohol regulation are other areas where opportunity for prevention is often missed. Car safety has been increased by car and highway redesign and tobacco has been increasingly regulated (against the opposition of the industry, it should be noted, in both cases) for the benefit of public health, but many opportunities remain.

Indeed, expanding health coverage to all those below 133% of poverty by Medicaid expansion continues to be opposed by those who want to be seen as against Obamacare. This may be irrational from a public health point of view, but in many states it is rational, if offensive, for being re-elected. The most unjust and inequitable part of it all is how the effects of poor public health policies most affect the most vulnerable, poorest, least empowered people in our society, or indeed any society. Public health education campaigns tend to focus on diseases that have well-funded advocacy groups and affect the majority population; a recent qualitative study of African-American women found that they were very aware of the threat of breast cancer, but hardly at all of stroke – a disease statistically more likely to affect them.

Speaking of public health, it is gratifying to see some newspaper coverage of Ebola that is not sensationalist or scary. “U.S. Colleges See Little Risk From Ebola, but Depend on Students to Speak Up”, by Richard Pérez-Peña in the NY Times, August 30, 2014, addresses the small but real risk that may affect colleges from students who have (unlike Allen’s daughter) actually traveled to West Africa. Even better is “Leadership and Calm Are Urged in Ebola Outbreak” by Donald G. McNeil, Jr., which presents a rational, thoughtful, public health approach, and discusses public health strategies which have been used in the past in major crises and are beginning to be implemented in West Africa. These strategies center around the use of local, respected experts who can effectively communicate with the people in their countries, rather than international aid agencies. The goal is to help people to utilize appropriate prevention and protection measures rather than panic. Again, as in the case of the other personal behaviors described above, this can be hard for people, especially when it contradicts cultural and religious values (such as how the dead are buried). But having voices who are local, who understand the culture, and have both medical/public health credentials and individual credibility, is extremely important. Of course, unlike the Ebola “scare” articles, these were both on page 8 of the newspaper, but have a more prominent position on that day’s Times homepage.

So what are the lessons? Understanding risk is not always easy, especially when an epidemic with a hugely high mortality rate threatens.  Doing something is harder than not doing anything, and it can thus be tempting to worry more about the things that we can’t do anything about rather than those we could reasonably take action on. The same is true for public health issues that need to be addressed at a societal level.

And, of course, it is always the most vulnerable who suffer the most.