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.

Whence, and whither, family medicine: will it have role in improving our nation’s health?: Part 1

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

Part I: Whence family medicine, and me

The history of family medicine is familiar to those of us attending this conference. Although most of us were not there “at the beginning” in the 1960s, we have heard, frequently at this conference, about the seminal reports, people, and events that led to the founding of our discipline.

The Willard Report, issued in 1966, was commissioned in 1964 by the American Medical Association’s Council on Medical Education and found that medicine needed a new kind of specialist, the family physician, educated to provide comprehensive personal health care within the nation’s complex healthcare system. It defined a family physician as one who “accepts responsibility for the patient’s total health care within the context of his or her environment, including the community.”[1]The COME also commissioned a report on graduate medical education to achieve this goal, and the Millis Report was also issued in 1966. It contained one of the earlier modern definitions of a primary physician, one who “...will serve as the primary medical resource and counselor to an individual or a family”.[2]The 1967 Folsom Report, developed by the private National Commission on Community Health Services and sponsored by the American Public Health Association and the National Health Council, called for “communities of solution”.[3]

 

Following these reports, the AMA hired two early leaders in our field, Drs. Leland Blanchard and Lynn Carmichael to “develop family practice”, and they crossed the country doing just that; Carmichael established the first FP residency at the University of Miami in 1965.[4]By 1969 there were 16 residencies. These early residencies were led by major figures in the history of the discipline, including Gayle Stephens in Wichita and Gene Farley at the University of Rochester, and grew to nearly 500 by 2016.[5]

The choice of the term “family doctor” to replace “general practitioner” was not incidental. The ABFM was founded in 1969, but the AAGP did not change its name to the AAFP until 1971, after at least 3 failed efforts. Obviously, people had always referred to their primary physician as their “family doctor” and for marketing purposes the term “family doctor” evoked positive feelings among the American people.

Like everyone here, I am sure, I can tie this to my personal story. Entering medical school in 1973, I did not come from a medical family, and think my parents had only one physician among their friends. I knew what kind of doctor I wanted to be, but not the right word for it. I didn’t even register GP; I wanted to be a “regular doctor”. You know, the kind you can go to with whatever is wrong and not have to diagnosis yourself first, and they can take care of it. As far as specialties were concerned, I guess I had an idea that pediatricians took care of children and obstetricians delivered babies. And maybe from high school friends who had money as well as acne, I knew that dermatologists took care of skin, but that was probably it. Of internal medicine, which played such a huge part in medical school, I had no concept; if anything I would have probably guessed it had something to do with gynecology, as I remember my mother having gone for annual “internal” exams.

My medical school, Loyola, had no family medicine at that time, but as I approached my scheduling for clerkships I found out that there was a physician, Werner Cryns, who ran a family practice clinic at the school. Trained as a pediatrician, Dr. Cryns had gotten private outside funds to establish this small clinic in a corner of the medical school, and I chose it for my elective. It was also my first clerkship, and from then on, I knew that was what I wanted to do. I did my residency at Cook County Hospital in Chicago, under Dr. Jorge Prieto, only the fourth full class to start in 1976. (Little side story: the hospital had always given out an “intern of the year” award, and in the first full class of FP residents, in 1973, it was won by one of them. Everyone else freaked out because “they rotate with everyone; they’ll always win it”, so there went the hospital-wide award. It became departmental.) I wanted very much to work at this public hospital with all of my socially and politically conscious friends from many of the Chicago medical schools, and was thrilled that they had a program in family medicine.

I had interviewed around the country, though, and found out about different programs, including two others that consciously saw themselves as training doctors for the urban inner city populations, Montefiore and San Francisco General. If I had gone to Montefiore, back in New York where I had lived my entire life before medical school, I likely would have had me a different life, but that cannot be known. I wanted to love SF General, as I loved San Francisco and had been unsuccessfully trying to get to California at least since applying to college, but was actually turned off by its emphasis on family dynamics and behavioral science. As someone who loved his own family but saw very much the negative impact that many families had on their children, I wanted to “keep the family out of family medicine”! Suffice it to say, I was wrong, and long since have understood the importance of the interaction of people, families, and communities, on an individual’s health.

At the 1989 Denver STFM meeting, I heard Gayle Stephens talk about “Family medicine as counterculture” (the talk was later published in Family Medicine[6]), and I admit that I was pretty surprised. I felt I had been part of the counterculture, but that doctors, even family doctors, even Dr. Stephens, were a bunch of old white guys in suits representing the establishment. I have to admit that, even though I have long since become an old white guy, and have been frequently known to wear a suit, the faces of those stern corporate-type authority figures from the 1950s and 1960s still make me anxious and a little bit hostile. (Full family disclosure, my father was a worker, not a suit.) But 1989 was a seminal STFM meeting.

I had already been attending STFM for some years, first in 1982 as a fellow at the University of Arizona, and then starting in 1985, when Dr. Prieto shared the educator award, every year since. If I make it to Toronto that will be 35 in a row. Actually, maybe it was 1988, in Baltimore, that was the seminal year, because that was the year Sen. Orrin Hatch received the Leland Blanchard award from the Foundation, orchestrated by Utah department chair and STFM matriarch F. Marian Bishop. I am sure Dr. Bishop did not anticipate, and surely did not appreciate, the antipathy of much of the younger cohort of STFM members to Sen. Hatch. From her point of the senator had been a big supporter of Title VII and family medicine. From our perspective, he was a virulent opponent of not only abortion rights, but ERA and other key issues affecting women. The only organized group within STFM opposing this was the Group on Women, which gathered signatures on a petition that was presented at the business meeting.

So, the next year, 1989, in Denver, there was a conscious effort to make a change. David Schmidt welcomed us with an upbeat and progressive speech. The Blanchard lecturer was Christine Cassel, then a professor of geriatrics at the University of Chicago and later a lot of other things, including head of the ACP Foundation and seminal in developing the “Choosing Wisely” program, speaking on medical ethics. In addition to Dr. Stephens’ talk on counterculture, Dr. Roger Rosenthal spoke about the need to care for underserved people. Several new groups were organized that year, including the Group on Minority Health, which still exists, and the Group on Universal Health Care, which had a shorter life. I felt really good about STFM and Family Medicine – and still do.

I met lots of people through family medicine – at STFM and the Program Directors’ meeting (later AFMRD), and this meeting, who were inspirational, like Frank Dornfest, the South African who was at the time program director in Santa Rosa -- the program our own Rick Flinders has written a history of -- and Gene Farley, who I met when I was a fellow at Arizona and he was chair at Colorado – an inspiration for his whole life. And some who were not old white men – Jorge Prieto, Denise Rodgers, and Carlos Moreno, and Janet Townsend, and others like David Swee and John Frey, white men who were not yet old! And the folks I worked with at Cook County – Pat Dowling, Janice Benson, and Crystal Cash, and many others. And, of course, many of those I have met or gotten to know better at this conference.

Part II: Whither family medicine, and American medicine, will be forthcoming

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[1]https://cchs.ua.edu/the-willard-report-2/

[2]https://www.nap.edu/read/9153/chapter/4#10

[3]http://www.annfammed.org/content/10/3/250.full

[4]https://www.aafpfoundation.org/foundation/chfm/collections/exhibits/carmichael.html

[5]https://www.stfm.org/FamilyMedicine/Vol49Issue4/Carek275

[6]“Family medicine as counterculture”, Family Medicine, 21(2):103-109, Mar-Apr 1989

Physician frustration and "burnout": A wider breadth of practice helps!

Physician burnout is a topic that is much-discussed in the medical community. It’s not a very good term; most people have stressed, sad, or overworked days or weeks, but it is the one that we seem to be stuck with. It is true that many physicians are often not happy, feel overworked and stressed and unable to spend enough time with their families. Most important, perhaps, they feel that this leaves them unable to do as good a job caring for their patients as they would like to. The main factors are workload, both in terms of the number of people that they have to see in a day, and ever-increasing “administrative” work. A big part of this is charting on an Electronic Health Record (EHR). While this modern method of charting allows quick retrieval of much important information and makes it possible to maximize billing, it is very time consuming.

Primary care doctors, such as family physicians, have among the highest rates of “burnout”, exceeding 30% in some studies and rising to nearly half in younger physicians . A recent study by Young, Burge, and colleaguesshowed that family doctors spend more time entering data into EHRs than they do face-to-face with patients! Patients are justifiably upset when their doctor spends more time looking at the computer screen than they do looking at them, and it is bad for the physician-patient relationship. However, the charting still has to be done, so those doctors who are not spending time on the EHR during the encounter are staying late to do it after office hours or doing it from home on evenings and weekends, which also contributes to frustration. Studies also show that a higher percentage of female physicians report experiencing “burnout”, likely because in many or most families it is still the woman who bears the burden of household and family responsibilities, even when she has a full-time and demanding job such as a physician.

There are a variety of reasons why family and other primary care physicians are particularly vulnerable to burnout. Reimbursement per visit is lower than for most other specialties, which means there is less money to hire people or buy systems to make things more efficient. Since most physicians are employed, primarily by large hospital systems, rather than in private practice, the system drives the work, not the doctor. Of course, the logic for paying primary care physicians less is, well, non-existent, but there are many non-logical justifications, most of them based upon the tradition of “subspecialist have always made more money” and are self-serving.

One conceit is that the work of subspecialists is “harder” or “more complex” and thus justifies greater reimbursement. This is not always, or even usually, true. As I have previously discussed on this blog (e.g., Can you be "too strong" for family medicine?, March 19, 2013), the work of a family doctor is particularly complex. For each patient, the family physician takes care of, or co-manages, all of a patient’s medical – and psychological and social – issues, as opposed to just one, as subspecialists do. In terms of the day’s schedule, a family doctor sees a wide variety of patients: a person with a new acute illness can be followed by one with several chronic diseases, then a well-child, then a sports injury, then a pregnant woman, etc. I have documented this in an “AAFP One-Pager” published in the American Family Physician in December, 2014.[1]

But, because subspecialists get higher reimbursement, their employers are happier and likely to spend more money supporting them. Some (ignorant but not rare) health system administrators wonder why a family doctor cannot see more patient in a given time, like, say, orthopedic surgeons do. The orthopedist sees someone referred for a specific problem, after x-rays or more extensive (and expensive) tests like MRIs have been done, often after the patient has been seen by another professional such as a physician’s assistant, does a quick exam of the particular area and decides if surgery is needed or not, and has someone else arrange it. It is, of course, the surgery, not the clinic visit, that earns the surgeon money. The family doctor is, as noted above, addressing all of a patient’s chronic and acute medical problems, as well as the social and psychological problems, and often has to fill out forms such as disability, FMLA, etc. even when another doctor (say, that orthopedist) is doing the procedure, because those subspecialists are “too busy” (ie., earning, directly for themselves or for the health system and then indirectly for themselves, too much money per unit of time).

It is, thus, unsurprising that those specialties that are the highest-paid (e.g., orthopedic surgery) and especially those with the highest income-to-work ratios (e.g, radiology, dermatology, anesthesiology) have little difficulty recruiting new doctors, while the lower-paid specialties, like family medicine, have much more. After all, the indebtedness from medical school –typically hundreds of thousands of dollars (which usually requires annual payments of far more than the average American’s total salary) is the same whatever specialty you enter. The higher revenue generated by subspecialists allows them – or the hospital systems that employ them -- to pay for non-physicians to do a variety of tasks, both clinical (nurse specialists and physician’s assistants) and documentation (scribes, coders, etc.) The American Academy of Family Physicians (AAFP) suggests that the root cause of family physician burnout is inadequate team-based care, but the fact is that the members of those teams have to be paid, and the greater the physician reimbursement the more team members there can be.

Given all this, one could reasonably worry that family doctors will no longer be happy doing all the breadth of care that defines the potential of the specialty, such as continuing to deliver babies, or take care of their patients in the hospital, or make home visits. After all, if they are stressed out “just” seeing patients in the clinic, wouldn’t this make it even worse? Take more time? Increase burnout and stress? To me, that would be a bad thing; one of the terrific things about primary care doctors, reasonably defined as “doctors for you” (rather than for a specific condition) is that they can see you, and care for you, in all settings.

Which is why it is gratifying to read the results of a paper just published in the Annals of Family Medicine by Weidner, Phillips, Fang, and Peterson called “Burnout and Scope of Practice in New Family Physicians”. Contrary to what one might fear, it turns out that, at least among younger physicians, having a wider scope of practice – specifically caring for patients in the hospital, delivering babies, and doing home visits – is associated with a lower rate of self-perceived burnout. This is heartening – maybe being able to function at their highest level, care for people in all the settings in which they seek care, provide real continuity, do good medicine is part of the answer. Some of this may be because the breadth of care, the different kinds of problems to care for, the possibility of being there for your patient in whichever venue their care is delivered, the caring for the whole patient, is why people chose family medicine in the first place, rather than a (higher-paid) specialty where you care for only a few diagnoses or do a few procedures over and over again. 

Yes, doctors, even the lower paid specialties, make very good salaries compared to most Americans, and so it is hard for people who have lower-paying jobs, are afraid of losing their jobs, or have no jobs at all to feel too sorry. Yet it is in the interest of their health that their physicians are able to feel satisfaction with their work, most importantly to be able to do the best that they can to take care of a person’s medical needs. Medical care can be made more efficient than it is, especially in eliminating the ridiculous lack of communication between doctors, hospitals, and patients that characterizes our fragmented non-system. All workers feel more satisfaction and do a better job when they have the ability to exercise some discretion and not simply work on an endless assembly line. Medical care especially cannot be reduced to an assembly line, because you are a person, not a widget.

Our medical system needs to cover everyone, communicate within itself effectively, and be flexible enough to meet the needs of all people.

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[1] Freeman J, Petterson S, Bazemore A., Accounting for complexity: aligning current payment models with the breadth of care by different specialties. Am Fam Phys 2014 Dec 1; 90(11):790. PMID 25611714

Maternal mortality in the US and UK: Why do we tolerate paying so much more for so much worse outcomes?

Last year, ProPublica, in association with NPR, published Why Giving Birth Is Safer in Britain Than in the U.S. In typical journalistic style, it starts by grabbing your attention with a case report of a woman in England who almost died of post-partum hemorrhage, but did not. The lesson is presumably that she did not because the physicians, midwives, and others attending her followed a rigorous set of established protocols for addressing post-partum hemorrhage that are implemented nationally in the UK.

Of course, there is a possibility that this individual woman could have died, or had to undergo more invasive surgical procedures further down the protocol’s algorithm, but the real point is that, overall, the system is working. The evidence is in that the maternal mortality rate (deaths/100,000 women delivering) is 8.9 in Britain, while in the US the rate in 2015 was 25.1, three times that of the UK! What makes this more dramatic is that the disparity has developed only since 1990; until then the maternal mortality rates in the US and UK had been declining in parallel since the 1950s.

The article cites several reasons for this difference. One, a very important one, is that the UK collects data on maternal mortality nationally and develops guidelines based upon this data which are implemented nationally. In contrast, the US collects data at best by state, or even by hospital, and

There is no federal-level scrutiny of maternal deaths, and only 26 states have an established committee (of varying methodology and rigor) to review them. Nor do all U.S. hospitals routinely examine whether a death could have been avoided. Procedures for treating complications such as preeclampsia, and for responding to emergencies such as hemorrhage, vary from one doctor, hospital and state to the next.

This is true despite the fact that the methods used by the British to collect and analyze this data were developed in the US. While there has been a well-documented 30-year effort to improve quality and to reduce preventable deaths (a category into which most maternal mortality falls) in the US, led by such organizations as the Institute for Healthcare Improvement (IHI) and embraced by such other organizations as the American Hospital Association (AHA), National Center for Quality Assurance (NCQA), the Joint Commission for the Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations (TJC), the National Academy of Medicine, and on and on, no compulsory national approach to this problem has developed. This reflects a common, and often knee-jerk, opposition to centralized approaches to almost everything, even when they have been determined to have an important effect on reducing death. It is actually parallel to efforts within hospitals to standardize care, to require, for example, all surgeries to go through a series of prescribed steps (“timeouts”) before operating, or limiting the number of different devices implanted to those needed by different types of patients rather than by the preference of the individual surgeon (for an interesting discussion, see A. Gawande, “Big Med”, New Yorker, August 13, 2012). That is, it is effective where it has been done, but it is not mandated to be done everywhere and comprehensive national data is not even collected.

Another big part of the successful UK approach to the reduction of maternal mortality has been collecting detail on what happened and why; this goes beyond “there was a death”, or “there was a death from hemorrhage”, or “there was a death from sepsis”, to identifying why it happened, particularly if the reason was something that is relatively easily addressed. Marian Knight, head of MBRRACE-UK, the group that collects the data and makes the guidelines, says

It’s all very well to know a woman died of sepsis, but to know that she died of sepsis because nobody measured her temperature, as they had no thermometers on the postnatal ward, that’s where the instruction Put a thermometer on your postnatal ward might make a difference. It’s not just the what, it’s the why.

Can you believe that there might be post-partum units where there is no thermometer? Apparently it has happened. And having a rule that it must be present is a way of preventing it from happening again.

There are at least three other important dimensions. One is that, as the report states, “These U.S. deaths are not spread equally. Women who are poor, African American or live in a rural area are more likely to die during and after pregnancy.”  This is not a big surprise.  Poor women, minority women, rural women, and uninsured women do much worse, and are much more likely to die from complications of delivery. It is the familiar song in the US, as in so many areas, of health and of every aspect of society. Is it not true in Britain? The article goes on to say

In the U.K., while inequalities persist when it comes to serious complications, according to 2012-2014 data, there is no statistically significant difference in mortality rates between women in the highest and lowest socioeconomic groups. All British women have equal access to public medical services, including free care and prescriptions from pregnancy through the postpartum period.

This also has two components; the greater equity of the quality of healthcare delivered to all segments of the population, a result of having a national health care system, and less disparity in the “social determinants of health”, the actual quality of the lives of people (women, in this case) before they access care. Especially for rural women, some of the problem the lack of an adequate number of health professionals. Over 20 years ago, family medicine residencies in Texas were surveyed and only a small percent of residents were interested in providing rural obstetric care, but no OB/Gyn residents were! This has not improved; while a recent study published by Tong, et al., in Family Medicine (Characteristics of Graduating Family Medicine Residents Who Intend to Practice Maternity Care) found that 22% of FM residents planned to deliver babies, they cite his 2012 study that showed that only 9.1% of FM residency graduates were delivering babies 1-10 years out into practice despite an intention to do so of 24%, comparable to the current study.

Another dimension is that the difference in maternal mortality reflects a greater focus on the health – and life -- of the pregnant woman in Britain, while in the US the focus is more on the health of the fetus and the newborn. This goes far beyond the issue of abortion, although the focus on children rather than women is one that is also characteristic of the anti-choice movement in the US. It is so deeply ingrained in our culture that even many health professionals (including midwives, doctors, and nurses) who see themselves as “pro-choice” and would never want to see a maternal mortality, are still more focused on the fetus and baby. It results in a practice, if not a belief, that considers the woman but a vehicle for producing a child.

Finally, there is cost, ironically but again unsurprisingly much higher in the US. Much higher. The total cost for a normal vaginal delivery in the US is about $30,000, and about $50,000 for a Caesarean section. In Britain, the cost for a normal vaginal delivery or planned Caesarean is about $2500, or less than 1/10^th the cost in the US, perhaps rising to $3400 for complicated cases (such as the one that leads off the article). Thus, the US charges far more, but has much worse outcomes for maternal mortality (as for many other conditions). This is not a side note; it is not just an interesting contradiction that our care costs more but has worse outcomes. And it is not by any means limited to pregnancy care or maternal mortality, but is present in our healthcare system at almost all levels and for most conditions. What ties these two components, cost and quality, tightly and inversely together, is that our “healthcare system” is only secondarily about delivering quality healthcare, and primarily about being a profit-making business.

So, that is the bottom line. The US has three times the maternal mortality rate of the UK despite charging ten times as much for delivery. The reasons are the absence of a national strategy to identify and remedy the causes of maternal mortality and the lack of a national healthcare system to provide the access necessary for women at risk. It causes the suffering and death to disproportionately affect those women who are already at greatest risk: the poor, minority, rural, and uninsured. The root cause is that our healthcare system is composed of poorly interconnected components, most of which are run as businesses to make money.

It is inequitable, and it is irrational from a health perspective if not from a business one. It causes unnecessary death and excessive cost, and seems to not be improving. It is not acceptable. We need to change it.

Cuba: A health system designed to serve to health of the people, not the profit of a few

I just returned from a week’s visit to Cuba with a group of medical journal editors and public health people. We met with many people in the medical professions including family doctors and nurses and people from highly specialized referral centers in pediatric cardiac and hepatobiliary surgery, nutrition, and diabetes, and with faculty and leaders from the school of public health and some of Cuba’s medical journals, including the Cuban Journal of Public Health. We met with US students from ELAM, the Latin American Medical School that trains (for free) students with social commitment and economic need from not only Latin America (and North America) but the entire world.

Much has been written on the Cuban medical system, and how it is structured. One of the best recent articles is by C. William Keck and Gail Reed in the American Journal of Public Health in 2012, “The Curious Case of Cuba”.[1]Keck and Reed are, respectively, Editor-in-Chief and Executive Editor of MEDICC Review, an academic journal that publishes research and commentary from both Cuban and US (and other international) authors about the Cuban health system and health status, and is part of MEDICC (Medical Education in Cooperation with Cuba). They were also leaders of our MEDICC-sponsored trip. I will not try to provide yet another in-depth description of the Cuban health system, with which many readers may be familiar, but will rather highlight some aspects of it that struck me as particularly important, and explain why.

First of all, the medical system in Cuba is a national priority. As a socialist country, its centralized nature exceeds that seen in the more-commonly described wealthy Western European nations, and it provides care for everyone. This is a positive, obviously, but also (of course) limits the access to some elective procedures for those who would be rich enough to afford it in another society. It also, of course, limits the ability of those people to be at the front of the queue, which is a particular irritation to the privileged, high-income people who are often those most critical of any type of equitable health system. The health statistics are excellent; several indicators, including infant mortality rate (4.8/1000 in 2013) are much better than in the US.

It is also very primary-care based. Teams of family doctors and nurses are in every neighborhood (in the densely populated parts of central Havana where we were, actually every few blocks) and are responsible for the health of a geographically defined population of 800-1800 people (depending on percent of older, high need people). They spend half their day seeing people in the office, and the other half making home visits, most frequently to those who are high-need because of chronic disease or recent mothers (the nurse sees almost daily). They also live in the neighborhood, frequently in or over the clinic, and are expected to be available 24-7 for any of the patients in their community who needs urgent help. Some of the doctors in these settings are residents in the second of their two-year FM residency, and they include those from other countries whose governments permit residency training in Cuba (we met a resident from Ecuador, who would be returning to his own country).

At the next level are polyclinics, also very neighborhood-based and serving a number of family medicine practices. Staffed with a family medicine professor as well as other specialists (pediatrics, IM, OB-Gyn, etc.) they see patients referred to them by the FM practices (and send them back for continuing care) as well as provide some procedural and imaging services. All physicians complete the 2-year FM residency, and then do residencies in other specialties; about 40% of doctors are FM. There are also hospitals, emergency / urgent care settings, and several levels of referral centers. The ones we visited in Havana for pediatric specialty surgery (including transplants of livers, although not yet hearts for children), nutrition, and diabetes were the most high-level referral centers in the country. At every level the centrality of the family medicine community practice for ongoing follow-up was emphasized. Specialty doctors have great respect for this system. In addition, although they make earn more than family doctors, the difference is small, and all earn far less in relation to the income of others in society than in the US. Doctors are not in it for the money. Public health is a much more prominent part of the health system in Cuba than it is in the US, and there are strong centralized efforts to integrate it more with the medical care, and particularly primary care, system. It remains underfunded relative to medical care delivery, but the inequity is significantly less than in the US where public health receives about 3% of the health care dollar compare to 97% for medical care.

In addition to the medical care that they provide to their own people, the Cubans provide care all around the world, and train doctors (as indicated above) from all around the world. Many poor nations have their health facilities staffed by Cuban physicians, and their human resource commitment to fight the Ebola outbreak in West Africa dwarfs any comparable effort by the US or other nations (see the article “Cuba vs. Ebola” on the MEDICC webpage). As noted above, ELAM graduates several thousand physicians from other countries every year, including the US. The students from the US, selected by the organization Pastors for Peace, are typically from lower-income families and ethnic groups under-represented in US medicine. The US students are required to have at least 2 years of college, and spend at least 6 years in the medical school, plus an extra one before if they are not fluent in Spanish. They are provided free tuition, room, and board. Life is not easy, and like most Cubans – even those working in the most advanced centers, including the National Medical Library – have limited and slow Internet access, a result, apparently of the lack of access to satellites resulting in the “low bandwidth” we heard about constantly. But the graduates are expected to enter primary care and work in communities of need that are like those they come from, and despite the inability of Cuba to enforce this, most of them do. Many have completed residencies in the US and others are currently training, predominantly in primary care. They tend to bring excellent history-taking and physical examination skills, although need time to adapt to the electronic medical record and the ability to “just order a CT scan”.

The hardest part for me about the US medical students at ELAM is that they are exactly the kind of students that every medical school in the US should be aggressively recruiting: from families and communities that have not typically produced physicians, from underrepresented groups, and with a passion and commitment to provide care for those communities. It embarrasses me that they have to go to Cuba to school, while our medical schools are filled with “more of the same”: privileged, generally majority, students with much more interest in high-specialization than primary care, and much more commitment to themselves than to the needs of society.

There are a lot of problems with Cuba, and even with their health system. It is very expensive, very dependent upon physicians, and upon paying relatively low salaries to health workers. It is handicapped by limited resources in a relatively poor country, even though the largest portion of that nation’s resources are spent upon health care and education. Its poor access to the Internet and lack of money for international travel limit the ability of its health professionals to collaborate and stay on top of what is happening in the rest of the world. But what the Cuban model shows is that it is possible to have a health system based on trying to provide needed health care, relatively equitably, to everyone in the society. It starts with primary care, and everyone gets that before anyone gets more; as time and resources progress, more people get more, but still equitably. The emphasis is that health and healthcare and medical care are for everyone, not for a portion of the population. It is based upon the presumption that everyone should get what they need before anyone gets what they do not.

Advocates of a market-based model for health care in the US may insist that they are not mean or selfish, but that the market is the best model for organizing everything, including health care. Their mantra is that “the market will provide”, presumably not just profit for the providers of services, but health to the people.

How’s that working for us?

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[1] C. William Keck and Gail A. Reed.  The Curious Case of Cuba. American Journal of Public Health: August 2012, Vol. 102, No. 8, pp. e13-e22. doi: 10.2105/AJPH.2012.300822