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Primary Care Internal Medicine Is Dead
Editor’s Note: This piece was originally published in Dr. Glasser’s bimonthly column in The Jolt, a nonprofit online news organization based in Olympia, Washington. She was inspired to write her story after meeting Christine Laine, MD, one of three female physician presenters at the Sommer Lectures in Portland, Oregon, in May 2024. The article has been edited lightly from the original.
Primary care internal medicine — the medical field I chose, loved, and practiced for four decades — is dead.
The grief and shock I feel about this is personal and transpersonal. The loss of internists (internal medicine physicians) practicing primary care is a major loss to us all.
From the 1970s to roughly 2020, there were three groups of primary care physicians: family practice, pediatricians, and internists. In their 3-year residencies (after 4 years of medical school), pediatricians trained to care for children and adolescents; internists for adults; and FPs for children, adults, and women and pregnancy. Family practitioners are the most general of the generalists, whereas the others’ training involves comprehensive care of complex patients in their age groups.
How and when the field of primary care internal medicine flourished is my story.
I was one of those kids who was hyperfocused on science, math, and the human body. By the end of high school, I was considering medicine for my career.
To learn more, I volunteered at the local hospital. In my typical style, I requested not to be one of those candy stripers serving drinks on the wards. Instead, they put me in the emergency department, where I would transport patients and clean the stretchers. There I was free to watch whatever was going on if I did not interfere with the staff. On my first shift, a 20-year-old drowning victim arrived by ambulance. I watched the entire unsuccessful resuscitation and as shocked and saddened as I was, I knew (in the way only a headstrong 18-year-old can) that medicine was for me.
It was a fortuitous time to graduate as a female pre-med student.
In 1975, our country was in the midst of the women’s movement and a national effort to train primary care physicians. I was accepted to my state medical school. The University of Massachusetts Medical School had been established a few years earlier, with its main purpose to train primary care physicians and spread them around the state (especially out of the Boston metropolitan area). The curriculum was designed to expose students to primary care from year one. I was assigned to shadow a general practice physician in inner-city Springfield who saw over 50 patients a day! The patients knew they could see and afford him, so they crammed into his waiting room until their name was called in order of their arrival. No appointments necessary. His chart notes were a few scribbled sentences. I didn’t see myself in that practice exactly, but his work ethic and dedication inspired me.
Over half of our graduating class chose to train in primary care specialties, and most stayed in-state. It turned out to be a good bet on the part of the government of Massachusetts.
When I applied for residency in 1980, several internal medicine programs had a focus on primary care, which was my goal. I matched at Providence St. Vincent Hospital in Portland, Oregon, and moved across the country to the Pacific Northwest, never to look back. There, my attendings were doctors like I wanted to be: primary care internists in the community, not in academia. It was the perfect choice and an excellent training program.
In 1984, I hung out my private practice internal medicine shingle in Hillsboro, Oregon, across the street from the community hospital. My primary care internal medicine colleagues and I shared weekend calls and admitted and cared for our patients in the hospital, and when they were discharged. That is now called “continuity of care.” It was a time when we ate in the doctors’ lounge together, met in hallways, and informally consulted each other about our patients. These were called “curbside consults.” They were invaluable to our ability to provide comprehensive care to our patients in primary care, led to fewer specialty referrals, and were free. That would now be called interprofessional communication and collegiality.
“Burnout” was not a word you heard. We were busy and happy doing what we had spent 12 years of our precious youth to prepare for.
What did internists offer to primary care? That also is part of my story.
When I moved to Olympia, I took a position in the women’s health clinic at the American Lake Veterans Administration Medical Center.
We were a small group: two family practice doctors, three nurse practitioners, and me, the only internist. Many of our patients were sick and complex. Two of the nurse practitioners (NPs) asked me to take their most complicated patients. Being comfortable with complexity as an internist, I said yes.
One of the NPs was inappropriately hired, as she had experience in women’s health. She came to me freaked out: “Oh my God, I have no idea how to manage COPD!” The other wanted simpler patients. I don’t blame them for the patient transfers. NPs typically have 3 years of training before they practice, in contrast to primary care physicians’ 8.
Guess who made friends with the custodian, staying until 8 p.m. most evenings, and who left by 5:30 p.m.
What was I doing in those extra hours? I was trudging through clerical, yet important, tasks my medical assistant and transcriptionist used to do in private practice. In the 30 minutes allotted for the patient, I needed to focus entirely on them and their multiple complex medical problems.
What is lost with the death of primary care internal medicine?
At the recent Sommer Memorial Lectures in Portland, Steven D. Freer, MD, the current director of the residency program where I trained, has not had a single of his eight annual internal medicine graduates choose primary care in several years. Half (two of four) of those in my year did: One went to Tillamook, an underserved area on the Oregon coast, and I to Hillsboro.
Why are they not choosing primary care? As when the University of Massachusetts Medical School was established, a shortage of primary care physicians persists and probably is more severe than it was in the 1970s. Massachusetts was proactive. We are already years behind catching up. The shortage is no longer in rural areas alone.
Christine Laine, MD, who is editor in chief of Annals of Internal Medicine and spoke at the Sommer Memorial Lectures, lives in Philadelphia. Even there, she has lost her own primary care internal medicine physician and cannot find another primary care physician (much less an internist) for herself.
Washington State, where I live, scores a D grade for our primary care staffing statewide.
Is there hope for the future of primary care in general? Or for the restoration of primary care internal medicine?
Maybe. I was relieved to hear from Dr. Freer and Dr. Laine that efforts are beginning to revive the field.
Just like internists’ patients, the potential restoration of the field will be complex and multilayered. It will require new laws, policies, residency programs, and incentives for students, including debt reduction. Administrative burdens will need to be reduced; de-corporatization and restoring healthcare leadership to those with in-depth medical training will need to be a part of the solution as well.
Let’s all hope the new resuscitation efforts will be successful for the field of primary care in general and primary care internal medicine specifically. It will be good for healthcare and for your patients!
Many work for large systems in which they feel powerless to effect change.
Dr. Glasser is a retired internal medicine physician in Olympia, Washington. She can be reached at [email protected].
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Editor’s Note: This piece was originally published in Dr. Glasser’s bimonthly column in The Jolt, a nonprofit online news organization based in Olympia, Washington. She was inspired to write her story after meeting Christine Laine, MD, one of three female physician presenters at the Sommer Lectures in Portland, Oregon, in May 2024. The article has been edited lightly from the original.
Primary care internal medicine — the medical field I chose, loved, and practiced for four decades — is dead.
The grief and shock I feel about this is personal and transpersonal. The loss of internists (internal medicine physicians) practicing primary care is a major loss to us all.
From the 1970s to roughly 2020, there were three groups of primary care physicians: family practice, pediatricians, and internists. In their 3-year residencies (after 4 years of medical school), pediatricians trained to care for children and adolescents; internists for adults; and FPs for children, adults, and women and pregnancy. Family practitioners are the most general of the generalists, whereas the others’ training involves comprehensive care of complex patients in their age groups.
How and when the field of primary care internal medicine flourished is my story.
I was one of those kids who was hyperfocused on science, math, and the human body. By the end of high school, I was considering medicine for my career.
To learn more, I volunteered at the local hospital. In my typical style, I requested not to be one of those candy stripers serving drinks on the wards. Instead, they put me in the emergency department, where I would transport patients and clean the stretchers. There I was free to watch whatever was going on if I did not interfere with the staff. On my first shift, a 20-year-old drowning victim arrived by ambulance. I watched the entire unsuccessful resuscitation and as shocked and saddened as I was, I knew (in the way only a headstrong 18-year-old can) that medicine was for me.
It was a fortuitous time to graduate as a female pre-med student.
In 1975, our country was in the midst of the women’s movement and a national effort to train primary care physicians. I was accepted to my state medical school. The University of Massachusetts Medical School had been established a few years earlier, with its main purpose to train primary care physicians and spread them around the state (especially out of the Boston metropolitan area). The curriculum was designed to expose students to primary care from year one. I was assigned to shadow a general practice physician in inner-city Springfield who saw over 50 patients a day! The patients knew they could see and afford him, so they crammed into his waiting room until their name was called in order of their arrival. No appointments necessary. His chart notes were a few scribbled sentences. I didn’t see myself in that practice exactly, but his work ethic and dedication inspired me.
Over half of our graduating class chose to train in primary care specialties, and most stayed in-state. It turned out to be a good bet on the part of the government of Massachusetts.
When I applied for residency in 1980, several internal medicine programs had a focus on primary care, which was my goal. I matched at Providence St. Vincent Hospital in Portland, Oregon, and moved across the country to the Pacific Northwest, never to look back. There, my attendings were doctors like I wanted to be: primary care internists in the community, not in academia. It was the perfect choice and an excellent training program.
In 1984, I hung out my private practice internal medicine shingle in Hillsboro, Oregon, across the street from the community hospital. My primary care internal medicine colleagues and I shared weekend calls and admitted and cared for our patients in the hospital, and when they were discharged. That is now called “continuity of care.” It was a time when we ate in the doctors’ lounge together, met in hallways, and informally consulted each other about our patients. These were called “curbside consults.” They were invaluable to our ability to provide comprehensive care to our patients in primary care, led to fewer specialty referrals, and were free. That would now be called interprofessional communication and collegiality.
“Burnout” was not a word you heard. We were busy and happy doing what we had spent 12 years of our precious youth to prepare for.
What did internists offer to primary care? That also is part of my story.
When I moved to Olympia, I took a position in the women’s health clinic at the American Lake Veterans Administration Medical Center.
We were a small group: two family practice doctors, three nurse practitioners, and me, the only internist. Many of our patients were sick and complex. Two of the nurse practitioners (NPs) asked me to take their most complicated patients. Being comfortable with complexity as an internist, I said yes.
One of the NPs was inappropriately hired, as she had experience in women’s health. She came to me freaked out: “Oh my God, I have no idea how to manage COPD!” The other wanted simpler patients. I don’t blame them for the patient transfers. NPs typically have 3 years of training before they practice, in contrast to primary care physicians’ 8.
Guess who made friends with the custodian, staying until 8 p.m. most evenings, and who left by 5:30 p.m.
What was I doing in those extra hours? I was trudging through clerical, yet important, tasks my medical assistant and transcriptionist used to do in private practice. In the 30 minutes allotted for the patient, I needed to focus entirely on them and their multiple complex medical problems.
What is lost with the death of primary care internal medicine?
At the recent Sommer Memorial Lectures in Portland, Steven D. Freer, MD, the current director of the residency program where I trained, has not had a single of his eight annual internal medicine graduates choose primary care in several years. Half (two of four) of those in my year did: One went to Tillamook, an underserved area on the Oregon coast, and I to Hillsboro.
Why are they not choosing primary care? As when the University of Massachusetts Medical School was established, a shortage of primary care physicians persists and probably is more severe than it was in the 1970s. Massachusetts was proactive. We are already years behind catching up. The shortage is no longer in rural areas alone.
Christine Laine, MD, who is editor in chief of Annals of Internal Medicine and spoke at the Sommer Memorial Lectures, lives in Philadelphia. Even there, she has lost her own primary care internal medicine physician and cannot find another primary care physician (much less an internist) for herself.
Washington State, where I live, scores a D grade for our primary care staffing statewide.
Is there hope for the future of primary care in general? Or for the restoration of primary care internal medicine?
Maybe. I was relieved to hear from Dr. Freer and Dr. Laine that efforts are beginning to revive the field.
Just like internists’ patients, the potential restoration of the field will be complex and multilayered. It will require new laws, policies, residency programs, and incentives for students, including debt reduction. Administrative burdens will need to be reduced; de-corporatization and restoring healthcare leadership to those with in-depth medical training will need to be a part of the solution as well.
Let’s all hope the new resuscitation efforts will be successful for the field of primary care in general and primary care internal medicine specifically. It will be good for healthcare and for your patients!
Many work for large systems in which they feel powerless to effect change.
Dr. Glasser is a retired internal medicine physician in Olympia, Washington. She can be reached at [email protected].
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Editor’s Note: This piece was originally published in Dr. Glasser’s bimonthly column in The Jolt, a nonprofit online news organization based in Olympia, Washington. She was inspired to write her story after meeting Christine Laine, MD, one of three female physician presenters at the Sommer Lectures in Portland, Oregon, in May 2024. The article has been edited lightly from the original.
Primary care internal medicine — the medical field I chose, loved, and practiced for four decades — is dead.
The grief and shock I feel about this is personal and transpersonal. The loss of internists (internal medicine physicians) practicing primary care is a major loss to us all.
From the 1970s to roughly 2020, there were three groups of primary care physicians: family practice, pediatricians, and internists. In their 3-year residencies (after 4 years of medical school), pediatricians trained to care for children and adolescents; internists for adults; and FPs for children, adults, and women and pregnancy. Family practitioners are the most general of the generalists, whereas the others’ training involves comprehensive care of complex patients in their age groups.
How and when the field of primary care internal medicine flourished is my story.
I was one of those kids who was hyperfocused on science, math, and the human body. By the end of high school, I was considering medicine for my career.
To learn more, I volunteered at the local hospital. In my typical style, I requested not to be one of those candy stripers serving drinks on the wards. Instead, they put me in the emergency department, where I would transport patients and clean the stretchers. There I was free to watch whatever was going on if I did not interfere with the staff. On my first shift, a 20-year-old drowning victim arrived by ambulance. I watched the entire unsuccessful resuscitation and as shocked and saddened as I was, I knew (in the way only a headstrong 18-year-old can) that medicine was for me.
It was a fortuitous time to graduate as a female pre-med student.
In 1975, our country was in the midst of the women’s movement and a national effort to train primary care physicians. I was accepted to my state medical school. The University of Massachusetts Medical School had been established a few years earlier, with its main purpose to train primary care physicians and spread them around the state (especially out of the Boston metropolitan area). The curriculum was designed to expose students to primary care from year one. I was assigned to shadow a general practice physician in inner-city Springfield who saw over 50 patients a day! The patients knew they could see and afford him, so they crammed into his waiting room until their name was called in order of their arrival. No appointments necessary. His chart notes were a few scribbled sentences. I didn’t see myself in that practice exactly, but his work ethic and dedication inspired me.
Over half of our graduating class chose to train in primary care specialties, and most stayed in-state. It turned out to be a good bet on the part of the government of Massachusetts.
When I applied for residency in 1980, several internal medicine programs had a focus on primary care, which was my goal. I matched at Providence St. Vincent Hospital in Portland, Oregon, and moved across the country to the Pacific Northwest, never to look back. There, my attendings were doctors like I wanted to be: primary care internists in the community, not in academia. It was the perfect choice and an excellent training program.
In 1984, I hung out my private practice internal medicine shingle in Hillsboro, Oregon, across the street from the community hospital. My primary care internal medicine colleagues and I shared weekend calls and admitted and cared for our patients in the hospital, and when they were discharged. That is now called “continuity of care.” It was a time when we ate in the doctors’ lounge together, met in hallways, and informally consulted each other about our patients. These were called “curbside consults.” They were invaluable to our ability to provide comprehensive care to our patients in primary care, led to fewer specialty referrals, and were free. That would now be called interprofessional communication and collegiality.
“Burnout” was not a word you heard. We were busy and happy doing what we had spent 12 years of our precious youth to prepare for.
What did internists offer to primary care? That also is part of my story.
When I moved to Olympia, I took a position in the women’s health clinic at the American Lake Veterans Administration Medical Center.
We were a small group: two family practice doctors, three nurse practitioners, and me, the only internist. Many of our patients were sick and complex. Two of the nurse practitioners (NPs) asked me to take their most complicated patients. Being comfortable with complexity as an internist, I said yes.
One of the NPs was inappropriately hired, as she had experience in women’s health. She came to me freaked out: “Oh my God, I have no idea how to manage COPD!” The other wanted simpler patients. I don’t blame them for the patient transfers. NPs typically have 3 years of training before they practice, in contrast to primary care physicians’ 8.
Guess who made friends with the custodian, staying until 8 p.m. most evenings, and who left by 5:30 p.m.
What was I doing in those extra hours? I was trudging through clerical, yet important, tasks my medical assistant and transcriptionist used to do in private practice. In the 30 minutes allotted for the patient, I needed to focus entirely on them and their multiple complex medical problems.
What is lost with the death of primary care internal medicine?
At the recent Sommer Memorial Lectures in Portland, Steven D. Freer, MD, the current director of the residency program where I trained, has not had a single of his eight annual internal medicine graduates choose primary care in several years. Half (two of four) of those in my year did: One went to Tillamook, an underserved area on the Oregon coast, and I to Hillsboro.
Why are they not choosing primary care? As when the University of Massachusetts Medical School was established, a shortage of primary care physicians persists and probably is more severe than it was in the 1970s. Massachusetts was proactive. We are already years behind catching up. The shortage is no longer in rural areas alone.
Christine Laine, MD, who is editor in chief of Annals of Internal Medicine and spoke at the Sommer Memorial Lectures, lives in Philadelphia. Even there, she has lost her own primary care internal medicine physician and cannot find another primary care physician (much less an internist) for herself.
Washington State, where I live, scores a D grade for our primary care staffing statewide.
Is there hope for the future of primary care in general? Or for the restoration of primary care internal medicine?
Maybe. I was relieved to hear from Dr. Freer and Dr. Laine that efforts are beginning to revive the field.
Just like internists’ patients, the potential restoration of the field will be complex and multilayered. It will require new laws, policies, residency programs, and incentives for students, including debt reduction. Administrative burdens will need to be reduced; de-corporatization and restoring healthcare leadership to those with in-depth medical training will need to be a part of the solution as well.
Let’s all hope the new resuscitation efforts will be successful for the field of primary care in general and primary care internal medicine specifically. It will be good for healthcare and for your patients!
Many work for large systems in which they feel powerless to effect change.
Dr. Glasser is a retired internal medicine physician in Olympia, Washington. She can be reached at [email protected].
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.