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The invisible effect medical notes could have on care
In the mid-1990s, when Somnath Saha was a medical resident at the University of California, San Francisco, School of Medicine, he came across a cluster of studies showing that Black people with cardiovascular disease were treated less aggressively, compared with White people. The findings were “appalling” to the young physician who describes himself as a “Brown kid from suburban St. Louis, Missouri.”
Dr. Saha had experienced racism growing up, but was surprised to see such clear signs of inequity within the field of medicine. “There was an injustice happening in my own backyard,” he said.
Indeed, bias towards Black patients can be challenging because many doctors either don’t realize their biases or won’t admit to them. Dr. Saha, now a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins University, likens implicit bias – unconscious judgments that can affect behavior – to “an invisible force.”
While numerous studies have found evidence of racial discrimination in medicine through patient reports, less is known about how implicit bias shows up in medical records, and how stigmatizing language in patient notes can affect the care that Black patients receive.
That’s part of the reason why, about 7 years ago, Dr. Saha began poring through medical records. For him, they offered a window into doctors’ feelings about their patients.
As part of his latest research, Dr. Saha’s team examined the records of nearly 19,000 patients, paying particular attention to negative descriptions that may influence a clinician’s decision-making. The data, which were recently presented at the 2023 American Association for the Advancement of Science annual meeting, aren’t yet published, but it suggests what researchers have long speculated: The notes provide, at times, a surprisingly candid view of how patients are perceived by doctors, and how their race may affect treatment.
The study adds to a concerning body of literature that explores how racial bias manifests in health care. Researchers like Dr. Saha are interested in how such prejudice leaves a paper trail, which can then reinforce negative stereotypes. Because medical notes get passed between physicians, Dr. Saha’s research suggests they can affect the health of Black patients down the line.
“The medical record is like a rap sheet, it stays with you,” Dr. Saha said, adding that “these things that we say about patients get eternalized.”
Research has long shown that Black patients experience worse health outcomes, compared with White patients, in part because of biased medical care. Black women, for example, are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications, compared with White women. And Black patients often report feeling like physicians don’t listen to their needs or don’t believe their concerns.
Studies appear to back that up. Last year, researchers at the University of Washington found that non-Hispanic White children who went to the emergency room for migraines were more likely to receive pain medications, compared with children of color – even though the two groups reported similar pain scores. Other studies echo similar results for adults as well.
While Michael Sun, a resident physician at the University of Chicago, knew about such health disparities, by his own admission, he was naive about the biases in medical records. At that time, Dr. Sun had “no experience in the medical record, in documentation, or in physician language and culture,” he said.
But in Dr. Sun’s first year of medical school, his professor shared the story of a longtime patient, whom she had referred to an outside specialist. In his recollection, the professor regarded her patient in kind terms, having worked with her for some time to treat a chronic illness. But when she got the specialist’s notes back, she was confused by the description of her patient: Terms like “really difficult,” “noncompliant,” and “uninterested in their health.” This was not the patient she remembered.
“This, as a first-year medical student, really shocked me because I had taken at face value that any words used in notes were true, were valid, or rightfully used,” said Dr. Sun. “I realized all the ways that bias, untold stories, and unknown context may change the way that we view our patients.”
Like Dr. Saha, Dr. Sun became interested in how bias influenced the relationship between doctor and patient, and how these interactions were memorialized in the medical record. In a study published last year, he and his colleagues looked at more than 40,000 medical notes from 18,459 patients. Researchers first manually combed through the notes, then used this information to teach a machine learning algorithm to interpret the connotations of words. Compared with White patients, Black patients were about 2.5 times more likely to be described negatively, with terms like “challenging,” “angry,” and “noncompliant.”
Dr. Saha has used similar methodology – and found similar results – in his own research. For the study presented at the AAAS meeting, his team first read through more than 100,000 medical notes to identify language their team considered to be disparaging – which they chose based on a list of words and phrases from prior research. They then used machine learning to find those terms in medical notes, taking care to ensure context was considered. For example, if the word “aggressive” was used to describe a treatment plan, it was excluded from their analysis. But if “aggressive” was used to describe the patient, it was included.
Dr. Saha pointed to three categories of stigmatizing language that were the most pronounced: expressing doubt or disbelief in what the patient said, such as reporting they “claimed” to experience pain; insinuating that the patient was confrontational, using words like “belligerent” or combative;” and suggesting a patient was not cooperating with a doctor’s orders by saying they “refused” medical advice.
“We’ve known for some time that in health care we sometimes use language that can be confusing or even insulting,” Matthew Wynia, director of the Center for Bioethics and Humanities at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora, wrote in an email to Undark. But he noted that research such as Dr. Saha’s has drawn attention to a previously overlooked issue. Describing a patient as “noncompliant” with medications, he said, “makes it sound like the patient is intentionally refusing to follow advice when, in fact, there are many reasons why people might not be able to follow our advice and intentional refusal isn’t even a very common one.”
Dr. Saha noted that, if a patient isn’t taking their medication, it’s important that doctors note that, so that the next physician doesn’t overprescribe them. But the concern, he said, is whether doctors are using these terms appropriately and for the right reasons because of the implications they have for patients.
If a doctor portrays their patient negatively, Dr. Saha said, it can “trigger the next clinician to read them and formulate a potentially negative opinion about that patient” before they’ve even had a chance to interact.
Still, stigmatizing language is only one small piece of the puzzle. What also matters, Dr. Saha said, is how those words can have an impact on care. In prior work, Dr. Saha has shown how implicit and, in some cases, explicit bias, affects a patient’s treatment recommendations.
In a 2018 study, Dr. Saha, along with his wife, Mary Catherine Beach – also a professor at Johns Hopkins University – combed through reports of patients with sickle cell anemia. Their team focused on that particular population since sickle cell patients are some of the most stigmatized in the health care system: Most patients are Black and many require regular doses of opioids for pain management.
In the notes, they found numerous examples of details that were irrelevant to patients’ health concerns: phrases like “girlfriend requests bus token,” “cursing at nurse,” “girlfriend on bed with shoes on,” and “narcotic dependent.”
Dr. Saha and Dr. Beach wanted to see how these remarks might influence a physician’s treatment recommendations, so they used vignettes they had found in the medical records of sickle cell patients. They showed either a vignette which had described patients negatively, or one that was edited with neutral language. Then they asked medical students and residents about the dose of pain medication they would hypothetically recommend. Dr. Beach said that the purpose was to see how what she called “dog whistles about social class or race or something that would make the person seem less educated” would impact treatment recommendations.
The study found that medical notes with stigmatizing language were associated with “less aggressive management of the patient’s pain.” Doctors who read the stigmatizing language chart notes prescribed less pain medication to patients even in cases when they commented that their pain was a 10 out of 10.
“The fact that we were able to show that this bias transmits to the next doctor has been the thing that I think motivates doctors to take it seriously,” said Dr. Beach.
Pain management has become a focal point for researchers because many of the most glaring racial tropes about patient care have revolved around pain. In 2016, a study conducted at the University of Virginia found that half of the 418 medical students and residents surveyed endorsed false beliefs about Black patients. For example, that “Blacks’ nerve endings are less sensitive than whites” and “Blacks’ skin is thicker than whites.” What’s more, those who endorsed these false beliefs also rated Black patients’ pain as lower than White patients’.
Antoinette M. Schoenthaler, a professor of population health and medicine at New York University and associate director of research at the school’s Institute for Excellence in Health Equity, said that disparities in pain management are pervasive and widespread across the medical profession. They seep into treatments for sickle cell anemia, but also prenatal care. As a result, she said, Black patients across the board are often fearful of attending appointments.
“Patients of color go into an appointment with feelings of heightened anxiety because they’re expecting mistreatment,” said Dr. Schoenthaler. “We’ve seen minoritized patients have higher blood pressure in the context of a clinical visit because of these expectations of anxiety and fear, and disappointment.”
Disparities in health care between Black and White patients is a complex issue – one which can’t be solved by addressing medical records alone. But, for researchers like Dr. Saha, Dr. Beach, and Dr. Sun, they can offer a road map that outlines where differences in care begin. The words a clinician uses sets the path for how a patient may be treated in the future.
One way to combat implicit bias, Dr. Saha suggested, is to use an algorithm that identifies stigmatizing language to “give hospital departments or clinicians report cards on how much of this language that they’re using.” By benchmarking averages against one another, clinicians could know if they’re using stigmatizing language at an above average rate. This is something he is considering for future research.
When clinicians are made aware of their biases – when the unconscious becomes conscious – Dr. Saha told Undark that he’s optimistic they’ll work to change them: “We’re using language that we’ve used forever without realizing the potential impact that it has on patient care.”
This article originated on Undark. A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
In the mid-1990s, when Somnath Saha was a medical resident at the University of California, San Francisco, School of Medicine, he came across a cluster of studies showing that Black people with cardiovascular disease were treated less aggressively, compared with White people. The findings were “appalling” to the young physician who describes himself as a “Brown kid from suburban St. Louis, Missouri.”
Dr. Saha had experienced racism growing up, but was surprised to see such clear signs of inequity within the field of medicine. “There was an injustice happening in my own backyard,” he said.
Indeed, bias towards Black patients can be challenging because many doctors either don’t realize their biases or won’t admit to them. Dr. Saha, now a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins University, likens implicit bias – unconscious judgments that can affect behavior – to “an invisible force.”
While numerous studies have found evidence of racial discrimination in medicine through patient reports, less is known about how implicit bias shows up in medical records, and how stigmatizing language in patient notes can affect the care that Black patients receive.
That’s part of the reason why, about 7 years ago, Dr. Saha began poring through medical records. For him, they offered a window into doctors’ feelings about their patients.
As part of his latest research, Dr. Saha’s team examined the records of nearly 19,000 patients, paying particular attention to negative descriptions that may influence a clinician’s decision-making. The data, which were recently presented at the 2023 American Association for the Advancement of Science annual meeting, aren’t yet published, but it suggests what researchers have long speculated: The notes provide, at times, a surprisingly candid view of how patients are perceived by doctors, and how their race may affect treatment.
The study adds to a concerning body of literature that explores how racial bias manifests in health care. Researchers like Dr. Saha are interested in how such prejudice leaves a paper trail, which can then reinforce negative stereotypes. Because medical notes get passed between physicians, Dr. Saha’s research suggests they can affect the health of Black patients down the line.
“The medical record is like a rap sheet, it stays with you,” Dr. Saha said, adding that “these things that we say about patients get eternalized.”
Research has long shown that Black patients experience worse health outcomes, compared with White patients, in part because of biased medical care. Black women, for example, are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications, compared with White women. And Black patients often report feeling like physicians don’t listen to their needs or don’t believe their concerns.
Studies appear to back that up. Last year, researchers at the University of Washington found that non-Hispanic White children who went to the emergency room for migraines were more likely to receive pain medications, compared with children of color – even though the two groups reported similar pain scores. Other studies echo similar results for adults as well.
While Michael Sun, a resident physician at the University of Chicago, knew about such health disparities, by his own admission, he was naive about the biases in medical records. At that time, Dr. Sun had “no experience in the medical record, in documentation, or in physician language and culture,” he said.
But in Dr. Sun’s first year of medical school, his professor shared the story of a longtime patient, whom she had referred to an outside specialist. In his recollection, the professor regarded her patient in kind terms, having worked with her for some time to treat a chronic illness. But when she got the specialist’s notes back, she was confused by the description of her patient: Terms like “really difficult,” “noncompliant,” and “uninterested in their health.” This was not the patient she remembered.
“This, as a first-year medical student, really shocked me because I had taken at face value that any words used in notes were true, were valid, or rightfully used,” said Dr. Sun. “I realized all the ways that bias, untold stories, and unknown context may change the way that we view our patients.”
Like Dr. Saha, Dr. Sun became interested in how bias influenced the relationship between doctor and patient, and how these interactions were memorialized in the medical record. In a study published last year, he and his colleagues looked at more than 40,000 medical notes from 18,459 patients. Researchers first manually combed through the notes, then used this information to teach a machine learning algorithm to interpret the connotations of words. Compared with White patients, Black patients were about 2.5 times more likely to be described negatively, with terms like “challenging,” “angry,” and “noncompliant.”
Dr. Saha has used similar methodology – and found similar results – in his own research. For the study presented at the AAAS meeting, his team first read through more than 100,000 medical notes to identify language their team considered to be disparaging – which they chose based on a list of words and phrases from prior research. They then used machine learning to find those terms in medical notes, taking care to ensure context was considered. For example, if the word “aggressive” was used to describe a treatment plan, it was excluded from their analysis. But if “aggressive” was used to describe the patient, it was included.
Dr. Saha pointed to three categories of stigmatizing language that were the most pronounced: expressing doubt or disbelief in what the patient said, such as reporting they “claimed” to experience pain; insinuating that the patient was confrontational, using words like “belligerent” or combative;” and suggesting a patient was not cooperating with a doctor’s orders by saying they “refused” medical advice.
“We’ve known for some time that in health care we sometimes use language that can be confusing or even insulting,” Matthew Wynia, director of the Center for Bioethics and Humanities at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora, wrote in an email to Undark. But he noted that research such as Dr. Saha’s has drawn attention to a previously overlooked issue. Describing a patient as “noncompliant” with medications, he said, “makes it sound like the patient is intentionally refusing to follow advice when, in fact, there are many reasons why people might not be able to follow our advice and intentional refusal isn’t even a very common one.”
Dr. Saha noted that, if a patient isn’t taking their medication, it’s important that doctors note that, so that the next physician doesn’t overprescribe them. But the concern, he said, is whether doctors are using these terms appropriately and for the right reasons because of the implications they have for patients.
If a doctor portrays their patient negatively, Dr. Saha said, it can “trigger the next clinician to read them and formulate a potentially negative opinion about that patient” before they’ve even had a chance to interact.
Still, stigmatizing language is only one small piece of the puzzle. What also matters, Dr. Saha said, is how those words can have an impact on care. In prior work, Dr. Saha has shown how implicit and, in some cases, explicit bias, affects a patient’s treatment recommendations.
In a 2018 study, Dr. Saha, along with his wife, Mary Catherine Beach – also a professor at Johns Hopkins University – combed through reports of patients with sickle cell anemia. Their team focused on that particular population since sickle cell patients are some of the most stigmatized in the health care system: Most patients are Black and many require regular doses of opioids for pain management.
In the notes, they found numerous examples of details that were irrelevant to patients’ health concerns: phrases like “girlfriend requests bus token,” “cursing at nurse,” “girlfriend on bed with shoes on,” and “narcotic dependent.”
Dr. Saha and Dr. Beach wanted to see how these remarks might influence a physician’s treatment recommendations, so they used vignettes they had found in the medical records of sickle cell patients. They showed either a vignette which had described patients negatively, or one that was edited with neutral language. Then they asked medical students and residents about the dose of pain medication they would hypothetically recommend. Dr. Beach said that the purpose was to see how what she called “dog whistles about social class or race or something that would make the person seem less educated” would impact treatment recommendations.
The study found that medical notes with stigmatizing language were associated with “less aggressive management of the patient’s pain.” Doctors who read the stigmatizing language chart notes prescribed less pain medication to patients even in cases when they commented that their pain was a 10 out of 10.
“The fact that we were able to show that this bias transmits to the next doctor has been the thing that I think motivates doctors to take it seriously,” said Dr. Beach.
Pain management has become a focal point for researchers because many of the most glaring racial tropes about patient care have revolved around pain. In 2016, a study conducted at the University of Virginia found that half of the 418 medical students and residents surveyed endorsed false beliefs about Black patients. For example, that “Blacks’ nerve endings are less sensitive than whites” and “Blacks’ skin is thicker than whites.” What’s more, those who endorsed these false beliefs also rated Black patients’ pain as lower than White patients’.
Antoinette M. Schoenthaler, a professor of population health and medicine at New York University and associate director of research at the school’s Institute for Excellence in Health Equity, said that disparities in pain management are pervasive and widespread across the medical profession. They seep into treatments for sickle cell anemia, but also prenatal care. As a result, she said, Black patients across the board are often fearful of attending appointments.
“Patients of color go into an appointment with feelings of heightened anxiety because they’re expecting mistreatment,” said Dr. Schoenthaler. “We’ve seen minoritized patients have higher blood pressure in the context of a clinical visit because of these expectations of anxiety and fear, and disappointment.”
Disparities in health care between Black and White patients is a complex issue – one which can’t be solved by addressing medical records alone. But, for researchers like Dr. Saha, Dr. Beach, and Dr. Sun, they can offer a road map that outlines where differences in care begin. The words a clinician uses sets the path for how a patient may be treated in the future.
One way to combat implicit bias, Dr. Saha suggested, is to use an algorithm that identifies stigmatizing language to “give hospital departments or clinicians report cards on how much of this language that they’re using.” By benchmarking averages against one another, clinicians could know if they’re using stigmatizing language at an above average rate. This is something he is considering for future research.
When clinicians are made aware of their biases – when the unconscious becomes conscious – Dr. Saha told Undark that he’s optimistic they’ll work to change them: “We’re using language that we’ve used forever without realizing the potential impact that it has on patient care.”
This article originated on Undark. A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
In the mid-1990s, when Somnath Saha was a medical resident at the University of California, San Francisco, School of Medicine, he came across a cluster of studies showing that Black people with cardiovascular disease were treated less aggressively, compared with White people. The findings were “appalling” to the young physician who describes himself as a “Brown kid from suburban St. Louis, Missouri.”
Dr. Saha had experienced racism growing up, but was surprised to see such clear signs of inequity within the field of medicine. “There was an injustice happening in my own backyard,” he said.
Indeed, bias towards Black patients can be challenging because many doctors either don’t realize their biases or won’t admit to them. Dr. Saha, now a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins University, likens implicit bias – unconscious judgments that can affect behavior – to “an invisible force.”
While numerous studies have found evidence of racial discrimination in medicine through patient reports, less is known about how implicit bias shows up in medical records, and how stigmatizing language in patient notes can affect the care that Black patients receive.
That’s part of the reason why, about 7 years ago, Dr. Saha began poring through medical records. For him, they offered a window into doctors’ feelings about their patients.
As part of his latest research, Dr. Saha’s team examined the records of nearly 19,000 patients, paying particular attention to negative descriptions that may influence a clinician’s decision-making. The data, which were recently presented at the 2023 American Association for the Advancement of Science annual meeting, aren’t yet published, but it suggests what researchers have long speculated: The notes provide, at times, a surprisingly candid view of how patients are perceived by doctors, and how their race may affect treatment.
The study adds to a concerning body of literature that explores how racial bias manifests in health care. Researchers like Dr. Saha are interested in how such prejudice leaves a paper trail, which can then reinforce negative stereotypes. Because medical notes get passed between physicians, Dr. Saha’s research suggests they can affect the health of Black patients down the line.
“The medical record is like a rap sheet, it stays with you,” Dr. Saha said, adding that “these things that we say about patients get eternalized.”
Research has long shown that Black patients experience worse health outcomes, compared with White patients, in part because of biased medical care. Black women, for example, are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications, compared with White women. And Black patients often report feeling like physicians don’t listen to their needs or don’t believe their concerns.
Studies appear to back that up. Last year, researchers at the University of Washington found that non-Hispanic White children who went to the emergency room for migraines were more likely to receive pain medications, compared with children of color – even though the two groups reported similar pain scores. Other studies echo similar results for adults as well.
While Michael Sun, a resident physician at the University of Chicago, knew about such health disparities, by his own admission, he was naive about the biases in medical records. At that time, Dr. Sun had “no experience in the medical record, in documentation, or in physician language and culture,” he said.
But in Dr. Sun’s first year of medical school, his professor shared the story of a longtime patient, whom she had referred to an outside specialist. In his recollection, the professor regarded her patient in kind terms, having worked with her for some time to treat a chronic illness. But when she got the specialist’s notes back, she was confused by the description of her patient: Terms like “really difficult,” “noncompliant,” and “uninterested in their health.” This was not the patient she remembered.
“This, as a first-year medical student, really shocked me because I had taken at face value that any words used in notes were true, were valid, or rightfully used,” said Dr. Sun. “I realized all the ways that bias, untold stories, and unknown context may change the way that we view our patients.”
Like Dr. Saha, Dr. Sun became interested in how bias influenced the relationship between doctor and patient, and how these interactions were memorialized in the medical record. In a study published last year, he and his colleagues looked at more than 40,000 medical notes from 18,459 patients. Researchers first manually combed through the notes, then used this information to teach a machine learning algorithm to interpret the connotations of words. Compared with White patients, Black patients were about 2.5 times more likely to be described negatively, with terms like “challenging,” “angry,” and “noncompliant.”
Dr. Saha has used similar methodology – and found similar results – in his own research. For the study presented at the AAAS meeting, his team first read through more than 100,000 medical notes to identify language their team considered to be disparaging – which they chose based on a list of words and phrases from prior research. They then used machine learning to find those terms in medical notes, taking care to ensure context was considered. For example, if the word “aggressive” was used to describe a treatment plan, it was excluded from their analysis. But if “aggressive” was used to describe the patient, it was included.
Dr. Saha pointed to three categories of stigmatizing language that were the most pronounced: expressing doubt or disbelief in what the patient said, such as reporting they “claimed” to experience pain; insinuating that the patient was confrontational, using words like “belligerent” or combative;” and suggesting a patient was not cooperating with a doctor’s orders by saying they “refused” medical advice.
“We’ve known for some time that in health care we sometimes use language that can be confusing or even insulting,” Matthew Wynia, director of the Center for Bioethics and Humanities at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora, wrote in an email to Undark. But he noted that research such as Dr. Saha’s has drawn attention to a previously overlooked issue. Describing a patient as “noncompliant” with medications, he said, “makes it sound like the patient is intentionally refusing to follow advice when, in fact, there are many reasons why people might not be able to follow our advice and intentional refusal isn’t even a very common one.”
Dr. Saha noted that, if a patient isn’t taking their medication, it’s important that doctors note that, so that the next physician doesn’t overprescribe them. But the concern, he said, is whether doctors are using these terms appropriately and for the right reasons because of the implications they have for patients.
If a doctor portrays their patient negatively, Dr. Saha said, it can “trigger the next clinician to read them and formulate a potentially negative opinion about that patient” before they’ve even had a chance to interact.
Still, stigmatizing language is only one small piece of the puzzle. What also matters, Dr. Saha said, is how those words can have an impact on care. In prior work, Dr. Saha has shown how implicit and, in some cases, explicit bias, affects a patient’s treatment recommendations.
In a 2018 study, Dr. Saha, along with his wife, Mary Catherine Beach – also a professor at Johns Hopkins University – combed through reports of patients with sickle cell anemia. Their team focused on that particular population since sickle cell patients are some of the most stigmatized in the health care system: Most patients are Black and many require regular doses of opioids for pain management.
In the notes, they found numerous examples of details that were irrelevant to patients’ health concerns: phrases like “girlfriend requests bus token,” “cursing at nurse,” “girlfriend on bed with shoes on,” and “narcotic dependent.”
Dr. Saha and Dr. Beach wanted to see how these remarks might influence a physician’s treatment recommendations, so they used vignettes they had found in the medical records of sickle cell patients. They showed either a vignette which had described patients negatively, or one that was edited with neutral language. Then they asked medical students and residents about the dose of pain medication they would hypothetically recommend. Dr. Beach said that the purpose was to see how what she called “dog whistles about social class or race or something that would make the person seem less educated” would impact treatment recommendations.
The study found that medical notes with stigmatizing language were associated with “less aggressive management of the patient’s pain.” Doctors who read the stigmatizing language chart notes prescribed less pain medication to patients even in cases when they commented that their pain was a 10 out of 10.
“The fact that we were able to show that this bias transmits to the next doctor has been the thing that I think motivates doctors to take it seriously,” said Dr. Beach.
Pain management has become a focal point for researchers because many of the most glaring racial tropes about patient care have revolved around pain. In 2016, a study conducted at the University of Virginia found that half of the 418 medical students and residents surveyed endorsed false beliefs about Black patients. For example, that “Blacks’ nerve endings are less sensitive than whites” and “Blacks’ skin is thicker than whites.” What’s more, those who endorsed these false beliefs also rated Black patients’ pain as lower than White patients’.
Antoinette M. Schoenthaler, a professor of population health and medicine at New York University and associate director of research at the school’s Institute for Excellence in Health Equity, said that disparities in pain management are pervasive and widespread across the medical profession. They seep into treatments for sickle cell anemia, but also prenatal care. As a result, she said, Black patients across the board are often fearful of attending appointments.
“Patients of color go into an appointment with feelings of heightened anxiety because they’re expecting mistreatment,” said Dr. Schoenthaler. “We’ve seen minoritized patients have higher blood pressure in the context of a clinical visit because of these expectations of anxiety and fear, and disappointment.”
Disparities in health care between Black and White patients is a complex issue – one which can’t be solved by addressing medical records alone. But, for researchers like Dr. Saha, Dr. Beach, and Dr. Sun, they can offer a road map that outlines where differences in care begin. The words a clinician uses sets the path for how a patient may be treated in the future.
One way to combat implicit bias, Dr. Saha suggested, is to use an algorithm that identifies stigmatizing language to “give hospital departments or clinicians report cards on how much of this language that they’re using.” By benchmarking averages against one another, clinicians could know if they’re using stigmatizing language at an above average rate. This is something he is considering for future research.
When clinicians are made aware of their biases – when the unconscious becomes conscious – Dr. Saha told Undark that he’s optimistic they’ll work to change them: “We’re using language that we’ve used forever without realizing the potential impact that it has on patient care.”
This article originated on Undark. A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Expelled from high school, Alister Martin became a Harvard doc
It’s not often that a high school brawl with gang members sets you down a path to becoming a Harvard-trained doctor. But that’s exactly how Alister Martin’s life unfolded.
In retrospect, he should have seen the whole thing coming. That night at the party, his best friend was attacked by a gang member from a nearby high school. Martin was not in a gang but he jumped into the fray to defend his friend.
“I wanted to save the day, but that’s not what happened,” he says. “There were just too many of them.”
When his mother rushed to the hospital, he was so bruised and bloody that she couldn’t recognize him at first. Ever since he was a baby, she had done her best to shield him from the neighborhood where gang violence was a regular disruption. But it hadn’t worked.
“My high school had a zero-tolerance policy for gang violence,” Martin says, “so even though I wasn’t in a gang, I was kicked out.”
Now expelled from high school, his mother wanted him out of town, fearing gang retaliation, or that Martin might seek vengeance on the boy who had brutally beaten him. So, the biology teacher and single mom who worked numerous jobs to keep them afloat, came up with a plan to get him far away from any temptations.
Martin had loved tennis since middle school, when his 8th-grade math teacher, Billie Weise, also a tennis pro, got him a job as a court sweeper at an upscale tennis club nearby. He knew nothing then about tennis but would come to fall in love with the sport. To get her son out of town, Martin’s mother took out loans for $30,000 and sent him to a Florida tennis training camp.
After 6 months of training, Martin, who earned a GED degree while attending the camp, was offered a scholarship to play tennis at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, N.J. The transition to college was tough, however. He was nervous and felt out of place. “I could have died that first day. It became so obvious how poorly my high school education had prepared me for this.”
But the unease he felt was also motivating in a way. Worried about failure, “he locked himself in a room with another student and they studied day and night,” recalls Kamal Khan, director of the office for diversity and academic success at Rutgers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
And Martin displayed other attributes that would draw others to him – and later prove important in his career as a doctor. His ability to display empathy and interact with students and teachers separated him from his peers, Mr. Khan says. “There’re a lot of really smart students out there,” he says, “but not many who understand people like Martin.”
After graduating, he decided to pursue his dream of becoming a doctor. He’d wanted to be a doctor since he was 10 years old after his mom was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. He remembers overhearing a conversation she was having with a family friend about where he would go if she died.
“That’s when I knew it was serious,” he says.
Doctors saved her life, and it’s something he’ll never forget. But it wasn’t until his time at Rutgers that he finally had the confidence to think he could succeed in medical school.
Martin went on to attend Harvard Medical School and Harvard Kennedy School of Government as well as serving as chief resident at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. He was also a fellow at the White House in the Office of the Vice President and today, he’s an assistant professor at Harvard Medical School in Boston..
He is most at home in the emergency room at Massachusetts General Hospital, where he works as an emergency medical specialist. For him, the ER is the first line of defense for meeting the community’s health needs. Growing up in Neptune, the ER “was where poor folks got their care,” he says. His mom worked two jobs and when she got off work at 8 p.m. there was no pediatrician open. “When I was sick as a kid we always went to the emergency room,” he says.
While at Harvard, he also pursued a degree from the Kennedy School of Government, because of the huge role he feels that politics play in our health care system and especially in bringing care to impoverished communities. And since then he’s taken numerous steps to bridge the gap.
Addiction, for example, became an important issue for Martin, ever since a patient he encountered in his first week as an internist. She was a mom of two who had recently gotten surgery because she broke her ankle falling down the stairs at her child’s daycare, he says. Prescribed oxycodone, she feared she was becoming addicted and needed help. But at the time, there was nothing the ER could do.
“I remember that look in her eyes when we had to turn her away,” he says.
Martin has worked to change protocol at his hospital and others throughout the nation so they can be better set up to treat opioid addiction. He’s the founder of GetWaivered, an organization that trains doctors throughout the country to use evidence-based medicine to manage opioid addiction. In the U.S. doctors need what’s called a DEA X waiver to be able to prescribe buprenorphine to opioid-addicted patients. That means that currently only about 1% of all emergency room doctors nationwide have the waiver and without it, it’s impossible to help patients when they need it the most.
Shuhan He, MD, an internist with Martin at Massachusetts General Hospital who also works on the GetWaivered program, says Martin has a particular trait that helps him be successful.
“He’s a doer and when he sees a problem, he’s gonna try and fix it.”
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
It’s not often that a high school brawl with gang members sets you down a path to becoming a Harvard-trained doctor. But that’s exactly how Alister Martin’s life unfolded.
In retrospect, he should have seen the whole thing coming. That night at the party, his best friend was attacked by a gang member from a nearby high school. Martin was not in a gang but he jumped into the fray to defend his friend.
“I wanted to save the day, but that’s not what happened,” he says. “There were just too many of them.”
When his mother rushed to the hospital, he was so bruised and bloody that she couldn’t recognize him at first. Ever since he was a baby, she had done her best to shield him from the neighborhood where gang violence was a regular disruption. But it hadn’t worked.
“My high school had a zero-tolerance policy for gang violence,” Martin says, “so even though I wasn’t in a gang, I was kicked out.”
Now expelled from high school, his mother wanted him out of town, fearing gang retaliation, or that Martin might seek vengeance on the boy who had brutally beaten him. So, the biology teacher and single mom who worked numerous jobs to keep them afloat, came up with a plan to get him far away from any temptations.
Martin had loved tennis since middle school, when his 8th-grade math teacher, Billie Weise, also a tennis pro, got him a job as a court sweeper at an upscale tennis club nearby. He knew nothing then about tennis but would come to fall in love with the sport. To get her son out of town, Martin’s mother took out loans for $30,000 and sent him to a Florida tennis training camp.
After 6 months of training, Martin, who earned a GED degree while attending the camp, was offered a scholarship to play tennis at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, N.J. The transition to college was tough, however. He was nervous and felt out of place. “I could have died that first day. It became so obvious how poorly my high school education had prepared me for this.”
But the unease he felt was also motivating in a way. Worried about failure, “he locked himself in a room with another student and they studied day and night,” recalls Kamal Khan, director of the office for diversity and academic success at Rutgers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
And Martin displayed other attributes that would draw others to him – and later prove important in his career as a doctor. His ability to display empathy and interact with students and teachers separated him from his peers, Mr. Khan says. “There’re a lot of really smart students out there,” he says, “but not many who understand people like Martin.”
After graduating, he decided to pursue his dream of becoming a doctor. He’d wanted to be a doctor since he was 10 years old after his mom was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. He remembers overhearing a conversation she was having with a family friend about where he would go if she died.
“That’s when I knew it was serious,” he says.
Doctors saved her life, and it’s something he’ll never forget. But it wasn’t until his time at Rutgers that he finally had the confidence to think he could succeed in medical school.
Martin went on to attend Harvard Medical School and Harvard Kennedy School of Government as well as serving as chief resident at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. He was also a fellow at the White House in the Office of the Vice President and today, he’s an assistant professor at Harvard Medical School in Boston..
He is most at home in the emergency room at Massachusetts General Hospital, where he works as an emergency medical specialist. For him, the ER is the first line of defense for meeting the community’s health needs. Growing up in Neptune, the ER “was where poor folks got their care,” he says. His mom worked two jobs and when she got off work at 8 p.m. there was no pediatrician open. “When I was sick as a kid we always went to the emergency room,” he says.
While at Harvard, he also pursued a degree from the Kennedy School of Government, because of the huge role he feels that politics play in our health care system and especially in bringing care to impoverished communities. And since then he’s taken numerous steps to bridge the gap.
Addiction, for example, became an important issue for Martin, ever since a patient he encountered in his first week as an internist. She was a mom of two who had recently gotten surgery because she broke her ankle falling down the stairs at her child’s daycare, he says. Prescribed oxycodone, she feared she was becoming addicted and needed help. But at the time, there was nothing the ER could do.
“I remember that look in her eyes when we had to turn her away,” he says.
Martin has worked to change protocol at his hospital and others throughout the nation so they can be better set up to treat opioid addiction. He’s the founder of GetWaivered, an organization that trains doctors throughout the country to use evidence-based medicine to manage opioid addiction. In the U.S. doctors need what’s called a DEA X waiver to be able to prescribe buprenorphine to opioid-addicted patients. That means that currently only about 1% of all emergency room doctors nationwide have the waiver and without it, it’s impossible to help patients when they need it the most.
Shuhan He, MD, an internist with Martin at Massachusetts General Hospital who also works on the GetWaivered program, says Martin has a particular trait that helps him be successful.
“He’s a doer and when he sees a problem, he’s gonna try and fix it.”
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
It’s not often that a high school brawl with gang members sets you down a path to becoming a Harvard-trained doctor. But that’s exactly how Alister Martin’s life unfolded.
In retrospect, he should have seen the whole thing coming. That night at the party, his best friend was attacked by a gang member from a nearby high school. Martin was not in a gang but he jumped into the fray to defend his friend.
“I wanted to save the day, but that’s not what happened,” he says. “There were just too many of them.”
When his mother rushed to the hospital, he was so bruised and bloody that she couldn’t recognize him at first. Ever since he was a baby, she had done her best to shield him from the neighborhood where gang violence was a regular disruption. But it hadn’t worked.
“My high school had a zero-tolerance policy for gang violence,” Martin says, “so even though I wasn’t in a gang, I was kicked out.”
Now expelled from high school, his mother wanted him out of town, fearing gang retaliation, or that Martin might seek vengeance on the boy who had brutally beaten him. So, the biology teacher and single mom who worked numerous jobs to keep them afloat, came up with a plan to get him far away from any temptations.
Martin had loved tennis since middle school, when his 8th-grade math teacher, Billie Weise, also a tennis pro, got him a job as a court sweeper at an upscale tennis club nearby. He knew nothing then about tennis but would come to fall in love with the sport. To get her son out of town, Martin’s mother took out loans for $30,000 and sent him to a Florida tennis training camp.
After 6 months of training, Martin, who earned a GED degree while attending the camp, was offered a scholarship to play tennis at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, N.J. The transition to college was tough, however. He was nervous and felt out of place. “I could have died that first day. It became so obvious how poorly my high school education had prepared me for this.”
But the unease he felt was also motivating in a way. Worried about failure, “he locked himself in a room with another student and they studied day and night,” recalls Kamal Khan, director of the office for diversity and academic success at Rutgers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
And Martin displayed other attributes that would draw others to him – and later prove important in his career as a doctor. His ability to display empathy and interact with students and teachers separated him from his peers, Mr. Khan says. “There’re a lot of really smart students out there,” he says, “but not many who understand people like Martin.”
After graduating, he decided to pursue his dream of becoming a doctor. He’d wanted to be a doctor since he was 10 years old after his mom was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. He remembers overhearing a conversation she was having with a family friend about where he would go if she died.
“That’s when I knew it was serious,” he says.
Doctors saved her life, and it’s something he’ll never forget. But it wasn’t until his time at Rutgers that he finally had the confidence to think he could succeed in medical school.
Martin went on to attend Harvard Medical School and Harvard Kennedy School of Government as well as serving as chief resident at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. He was also a fellow at the White House in the Office of the Vice President and today, he’s an assistant professor at Harvard Medical School in Boston..
He is most at home in the emergency room at Massachusetts General Hospital, where he works as an emergency medical specialist. For him, the ER is the first line of defense for meeting the community’s health needs. Growing up in Neptune, the ER “was where poor folks got their care,” he says. His mom worked two jobs and when she got off work at 8 p.m. there was no pediatrician open. “When I was sick as a kid we always went to the emergency room,” he says.
While at Harvard, he also pursued a degree from the Kennedy School of Government, because of the huge role he feels that politics play in our health care system and especially in bringing care to impoverished communities. And since then he’s taken numerous steps to bridge the gap.
Addiction, for example, became an important issue for Martin, ever since a patient he encountered in his first week as an internist. She was a mom of two who had recently gotten surgery because she broke her ankle falling down the stairs at her child’s daycare, he says. Prescribed oxycodone, she feared she was becoming addicted and needed help. But at the time, there was nothing the ER could do.
“I remember that look in her eyes when we had to turn her away,” he says.
Martin has worked to change protocol at his hospital and others throughout the nation so they can be better set up to treat opioid addiction. He’s the founder of GetWaivered, an organization that trains doctors throughout the country to use evidence-based medicine to manage opioid addiction. In the U.S. doctors need what’s called a DEA X waiver to be able to prescribe buprenorphine to opioid-addicted patients. That means that currently only about 1% of all emergency room doctors nationwide have the waiver and without it, it’s impossible to help patients when they need it the most.
Shuhan He, MD, an internist with Martin at Massachusetts General Hospital who also works on the GetWaivered program, says Martin has a particular trait that helps him be successful.
“He’s a doer and when he sees a problem, he’s gonna try and fix it.”
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Could vitamin C help reduce gout?
Could taking vitamin C help reduce the chances of developing gout? A new study sheds light on this possibility.
Gout is a form of inflammatory arthritis that has been on the rise in the United States in recent decades. Considered a lifestyle disease, some research has shown that instances of the condition have more than doubled in recent years as rates of obesity have skyrocketed. It’s caused by uric acid in the blood that builds up and crystallizes in the joints. Flare-ups are so intense that the joints can turn a cherry red and vibrate with intense – and sometimes seemingly intolerable – pain.
While there are effective treatments, many people fail to take their medications when they’re not in pain, and if the condition goes unchecked, it can get much worse and cause permanent damage to the joints.
“Gout can cause flare-ups that vary in frequency and severity; but sometimes when people aren’t experiencing them, they’re less likely to stay on top of their medications,” said Stephen Juraschek, MD, an assistant professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School, Boston.
That’s why lifestyle interventions are seen as particularly relevant to a disease like gout. Vitamin C, for example, has few side effects, and for those with higher levels of uric acid in the blood, it could reduce the likelihood of getting the condition. A recent study published in The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition found that people who were given 500 mg of vitamin C versus a placebo had a 12% reduced risk of getting gout. The study of over 14,000 male doctors showed that men who weren’t overweight had the most significant reduction in the risk of getting the condition. (Excess weight has been shown to increase the risk of gout.)
As part of the study, participants responded to a questionnaire that asked whether they had ever been diagnosed with gout. Other studies have shown that vitamin C reduced the levels of urate in people without gout and broke down uric crystals in the blood, but this study took it a step further to show that the supplement actually reduced the risk of getting the condition.
“In addition to lowering levels of uric acid in the body, it’s thought that vitamin C may also minimize the inflammatory response to urate crystals,” said Dr. Juraschek. That’s because when flare-ups develop in joints throughout the body, much of the painful irritation is caused by the immune system’s response as it fights to break down the crystals.
Dr. Juraschek said this likely wouldn’t change recommendations for patients with serious gout, but it could still have an impact.
“For individuals who were told that they have gout but have had fewer flare-ups, they might be more open to taking vitamin C,” he said.
Will Settle, 42, of Hilton Head, S.C., was not involved in the study, but he said he would be inclined to try most any safe preventive method. Gout runs in his family. His father and grandfather had it, and now, so does he. His flare-ups have slowed in recent years, which he said has a lot to do with his diet and lifestyle. He stopped eating seafood, started drinking more water, and stopped drinking as much alcohol – all of which he thinks has had a huge impact on the severity of his condition. (Both seafood and beer contain high levels of purines, which have been shown to increase the buildup of uric acid in the blood.) Mr. Settle said that other simple lifestyle changes like vitamin C would be an easy addition to his routine with few downsides. Plus, he hates having to take colchicine, a medication that’s meant to relieve pain but causes him intense diarrhea when he takes it.
“Anything to reduce my flare-ups without having to take colchicine,” he said.
But the jury is still out as to whether vitamin C will have any real benefits. Study coauthor Robert H. Shmerling, MD, is the former clinical chief of the division of rheumatology at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, New York. He said the study shows that the effect of vitamin C in those undiagnosed with gout was rather modest. Also, vitamin C did not show a reduction in gout flare-ups in those who were already diagnosed with the condition. Not to mention that the study lacked diversity, as the people in it were all male and mostly white. Still, there’s little downside risk to taking vitamin C, and it might end up being worthwhile.
“Maybe it will turn out to be an effective treatment in those who are at high risk, but we’re not there yet,” he said.
Robert Terkeltaub, MD, chief of rheumatology at the Veterans Administration Medical Center in San Diego and a professor of medicine at the University of California, San Diego, said there’s an unmet need when it comes to tools for gout prevention.
“The disease impacts some 10 million Americans, and we need to better identify these individuals so we can intervene earlier,” he said.
While vitamin C had a small but significant association with fewer new cases of gout, it did not lower it in those who already had the disease, said Dr. Terkeltaub. What’s more, researchers didn’t measure the levels of uric acid in the blood, which would have painted a more accurate picture of whether vitamin C actually reduced it in the body.
“There remains no clarity on the potential role of vitamin C in either prevention or treatment of gout. That said, future research would be of interest,” he said.
Still, gout patients like Mr. Settle aren’t ruling it out. Anything to avoid the pain that, at times, makes it difficult for him to get out of bed. He’s seen the benefit that simple lifestyle changes can make, and he’s willing to try just about anything to live a normal, arthritis-free life.
“I’m always looking for simple ways to keep my flare-ups at bay,” he said.
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
Could taking vitamin C help reduce the chances of developing gout? A new study sheds light on this possibility.
Gout is a form of inflammatory arthritis that has been on the rise in the United States in recent decades. Considered a lifestyle disease, some research has shown that instances of the condition have more than doubled in recent years as rates of obesity have skyrocketed. It’s caused by uric acid in the blood that builds up and crystallizes in the joints. Flare-ups are so intense that the joints can turn a cherry red and vibrate with intense – and sometimes seemingly intolerable – pain.
While there are effective treatments, many people fail to take their medications when they’re not in pain, and if the condition goes unchecked, it can get much worse and cause permanent damage to the joints.
“Gout can cause flare-ups that vary in frequency and severity; but sometimes when people aren’t experiencing them, they’re less likely to stay on top of their medications,” said Stephen Juraschek, MD, an assistant professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School, Boston.
That’s why lifestyle interventions are seen as particularly relevant to a disease like gout. Vitamin C, for example, has few side effects, and for those with higher levels of uric acid in the blood, it could reduce the likelihood of getting the condition. A recent study published in The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition found that people who were given 500 mg of vitamin C versus a placebo had a 12% reduced risk of getting gout. The study of over 14,000 male doctors showed that men who weren’t overweight had the most significant reduction in the risk of getting the condition. (Excess weight has been shown to increase the risk of gout.)
As part of the study, participants responded to a questionnaire that asked whether they had ever been diagnosed with gout. Other studies have shown that vitamin C reduced the levels of urate in people without gout and broke down uric crystals in the blood, but this study took it a step further to show that the supplement actually reduced the risk of getting the condition.
“In addition to lowering levels of uric acid in the body, it’s thought that vitamin C may also minimize the inflammatory response to urate crystals,” said Dr. Juraschek. That’s because when flare-ups develop in joints throughout the body, much of the painful irritation is caused by the immune system’s response as it fights to break down the crystals.
Dr. Juraschek said this likely wouldn’t change recommendations for patients with serious gout, but it could still have an impact.
“For individuals who were told that they have gout but have had fewer flare-ups, they might be more open to taking vitamin C,” he said.
Will Settle, 42, of Hilton Head, S.C., was not involved in the study, but he said he would be inclined to try most any safe preventive method. Gout runs in his family. His father and grandfather had it, and now, so does he. His flare-ups have slowed in recent years, which he said has a lot to do with his diet and lifestyle. He stopped eating seafood, started drinking more water, and stopped drinking as much alcohol – all of which he thinks has had a huge impact on the severity of his condition. (Both seafood and beer contain high levels of purines, which have been shown to increase the buildup of uric acid in the blood.) Mr. Settle said that other simple lifestyle changes like vitamin C would be an easy addition to his routine with few downsides. Plus, he hates having to take colchicine, a medication that’s meant to relieve pain but causes him intense diarrhea when he takes it.
“Anything to reduce my flare-ups without having to take colchicine,” he said.
But the jury is still out as to whether vitamin C will have any real benefits. Study coauthor Robert H. Shmerling, MD, is the former clinical chief of the division of rheumatology at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, New York. He said the study shows that the effect of vitamin C in those undiagnosed with gout was rather modest. Also, vitamin C did not show a reduction in gout flare-ups in those who were already diagnosed with the condition. Not to mention that the study lacked diversity, as the people in it were all male and mostly white. Still, there’s little downside risk to taking vitamin C, and it might end up being worthwhile.
“Maybe it will turn out to be an effective treatment in those who are at high risk, but we’re not there yet,” he said.
Robert Terkeltaub, MD, chief of rheumatology at the Veterans Administration Medical Center in San Diego and a professor of medicine at the University of California, San Diego, said there’s an unmet need when it comes to tools for gout prevention.
“The disease impacts some 10 million Americans, and we need to better identify these individuals so we can intervene earlier,” he said.
While vitamin C had a small but significant association with fewer new cases of gout, it did not lower it in those who already had the disease, said Dr. Terkeltaub. What’s more, researchers didn’t measure the levels of uric acid in the blood, which would have painted a more accurate picture of whether vitamin C actually reduced it in the body.
“There remains no clarity on the potential role of vitamin C in either prevention or treatment of gout. That said, future research would be of interest,” he said.
Still, gout patients like Mr. Settle aren’t ruling it out. Anything to avoid the pain that, at times, makes it difficult for him to get out of bed. He’s seen the benefit that simple lifestyle changes can make, and he’s willing to try just about anything to live a normal, arthritis-free life.
“I’m always looking for simple ways to keep my flare-ups at bay,” he said.
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
Could taking vitamin C help reduce the chances of developing gout? A new study sheds light on this possibility.
Gout is a form of inflammatory arthritis that has been on the rise in the United States in recent decades. Considered a lifestyle disease, some research has shown that instances of the condition have more than doubled in recent years as rates of obesity have skyrocketed. It’s caused by uric acid in the blood that builds up and crystallizes in the joints. Flare-ups are so intense that the joints can turn a cherry red and vibrate with intense – and sometimes seemingly intolerable – pain.
While there are effective treatments, many people fail to take their medications when they’re not in pain, and if the condition goes unchecked, it can get much worse and cause permanent damage to the joints.
“Gout can cause flare-ups that vary in frequency and severity; but sometimes when people aren’t experiencing them, they’re less likely to stay on top of their medications,” said Stephen Juraschek, MD, an assistant professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School, Boston.
That’s why lifestyle interventions are seen as particularly relevant to a disease like gout. Vitamin C, for example, has few side effects, and for those with higher levels of uric acid in the blood, it could reduce the likelihood of getting the condition. A recent study published in The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition found that people who were given 500 mg of vitamin C versus a placebo had a 12% reduced risk of getting gout. The study of over 14,000 male doctors showed that men who weren’t overweight had the most significant reduction in the risk of getting the condition. (Excess weight has been shown to increase the risk of gout.)
As part of the study, participants responded to a questionnaire that asked whether they had ever been diagnosed with gout. Other studies have shown that vitamin C reduced the levels of urate in people without gout and broke down uric crystals in the blood, but this study took it a step further to show that the supplement actually reduced the risk of getting the condition.
“In addition to lowering levels of uric acid in the body, it’s thought that vitamin C may also minimize the inflammatory response to urate crystals,” said Dr. Juraschek. That’s because when flare-ups develop in joints throughout the body, much of the painful irritation is caused by the immune system’s response as it fights to break down the crystals.
Dr. Juraschek said this likely wouldn’t change recommendations for patients with serious gout, but it could still have an impact.
“For individuals who were told that they have gout but have had fewer flare-ups, they might be more open to taking vitamin C,” he said.
Will Settle, 42, of Hilton Head, S.C., was not involved in the study, but he said he would be inclined to try most any safe preventive method. Gout runs in his family. His father and grandfather had it, and now, so does he. His flare-ups have slowed in recent years, which he said has a lot to do with his diet and lifestyle. He stopped eating seafood, started drinking more water, and stopped drinking as much alcohol – all of which he thinks has had a huge impact on the severity of his condition. (Both seafood and beer contain high levels of purines, which have been shown to increase the buildup of uric acid in the blood.) Mr. Settle said that other simple lifestyle changes like vitamin C would be an easy addition to his routine with few downsides. Plus, he hates having to take colchicine, a medication that’s meant to relieve pain but causes him intense diarrhea when he takes it.
“Anything to reduce my flare-ups without having to take colchicine,” he said.
But the jury is still out as to whether vitamin C will have any real benefits. Study coauthor Robert H. Shmerling, MD, is the former clinical chief of the division of rheumatology at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, New York. He said the study shows that the effect of vitamin C in those undiagnosed with gout was rather modest. Also, vitamin C did not show a reduction in gout flare-ups in those who were already diagnosed with the condition. Not to mention that the study lacked diversity, as the people in it were all male and mostly white. Still, there’s little downside risk to taking vitamin C, and it might end up being worthwhile.
“Maybe it will turn out to be an effective treatment in those who are at high risk, but we’re not there yet,” he said.
Robert Terkeltaub, MD, chief of rheumatology at the Veterans Administration Medical Center in San Diego and a professor of medicine at the University of California, San Diego, said there’s an unmet need when it comes to tools for gout prevention.
“The disease impacts some 10 million Americans, and we need to better identify these individuals so we can intervene earlier,” he said.
While vitamin C had a small but significant association with fewer new cases of gout, it did not lower it in those who already had the disease, said Dr. Terkeltaub. What’s more, researchers didn’t measure the levels of uric acid in the blood, which would have painted a more accurate picture of whether vitamin C actually reduced it in the body.
“There remains no clarity on the potential role of vitamin C in either prevention or treatment of gout. That said, future research would be of interest,” he said.
Still, gout patients like Mr. Settle aren’t ruling it out. Anything to avoid the pain that, at times, makes it difficult for him to get out of bed. He’s seen the benefit that simple lifestyle changes can make, and he’s willing to try just about anything to live a normal, arthritis-free life.
“I’m always looking for simple ways to keep my flare-ups at bay,” he said.
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
FROM THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF CLINICAL NUTRITION
Science lags behind for kids with long COVID
Emma Sherman, a 13-year-old girl in Ascot, England, woke up to a dizzying aura of blind spots and flashing lights in her field of vision. It was May 2020, and she also had crippling nausea and headaches. By August, her dizziness was so overwhelming, she couldn’t hold her head up, lying in her mother’s lap for hours, too fatigued to attend school.
The former competitive gymnast, who had hoped to try out for the cheerleading squad, now used a wheelchair and was a shadow of her former self. She had been diagnosed with COVID-induced postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, a condition often caused by an infection that results in a higher heart rate, extreme nausea, dizziness, and fatigue.
“I was so into sports before I got long COVID, and afterwards I could barely walk,” Emma said.
Even minor movements sent her heart rate sky-high. Her long chestnut hair turned gray and fell out in clumps. In the hospital, she was pricked and prodded, her blood tested for numerous conditions.
“They ran every scan known to man and took an MRI of her brain,” said Emma’s mother, Marie Sherman. “All was clear.”
Emma’s pediatrician determined that the teen had long COVID after having had a mild case of the virus in March, about 2 months before her puzzling symptoms began. But beyond a positive antibody test, doctors have found little evidence of what was causing Emma’s symptoms.
For Emma and others with long COVID, there are no medications shown to directly target the condition. Instead, caregivers target their symptoms, which include nausea, dizziness, fatigue, headaches, and a racing heart, said Laura Malone, MD, codirector of the Johns Hopkins Kennedy Krieger Pediatric Post–COVID-19 Rehabilitation Clinic in Baltimore.
“Right now, it’s a rehabilitation-based approach focused on improving symptoms and functioning so that kids can go back to their usual activities as much as possible,” she says.
Depression and anxiety are common, although doctors are struggling to figure out whether COVID is changing the brain or whether mental health symptoms result from all the life disruptions. There’s little research to show how may kids have depression because of long COVID. Dr. Malone said about half of her patients at the Kennedy Krieger Institute›s long COVID clinic are also dealing with mental health issues.
Patients with headaches, dizziness, and nausea are given pain and nausea medications and recommendations for a healthy diet with added fruits and vegetables, monounsaturated fats, lower sodium, unprocessed foods, and whole grains. Kids with irregular or racing heart rates are referred to cardiologists and potentially prescribed beta-blockers to treat their heart arrhythmias, while children with breathing problems may be referred to pulmonologists and those with depression to a psychiatrist.
Still, many patients like Emma go to their doctors with phantom symptoms that don’t show up on scans or blood tests.
“We’re not seeing any evidence of structural damage to the brain, for example,” said Dr. Malone. “When we do MRIs, they often come out normal.”
It’s possible that the virus lingers in some patients, said Rajeev Fernando, MD, an infectious disease specialist and a fellow at Harvard Medical School, Boston. Kids’ strong immune systems often fend off problems that can be noticed. But on the inside, dead fragments of the virus persist, floating in hidden parts of the body and activating the immune system long after the threat has passed.
The virus can be in the gut and in the brain, which may help explain why symptoms like brain fog and nausea can linger in children.
“The immune system doesn’t recognize whether fragments of the virus are dead or alive. It continues to think it’s fighting active COVID,” said Dr. Fernando.
There is little data on how long symptoms last, Dr. Fernando said, as well as how many kids get them and why some are more vulnerable than others. Some research has found that about 5%-15% of children with COVID may get long COVID, but the statistics vary globally.
“Children with long COVID have largely been ignored. And while we’re talking about it now, we’ve got some work to do,” said Dr. Fernando.
As for Emma, she recovered in January of 2021, heading back to school and her friends, although her cardiologist advised her to skip gym classes.
“For the first time in months, I was feeling like myself again,” she said.
But the coronavirus found its way to Emma again. Although she was fully vaccinated in the fall of 2021, when the Omicron variant swept the world late that year, she was infected again.
“When the wave of Omicron descended, Emma was like a sitting duck,” her mother said.
She was bedridden with a high fever and cough. The cold-like symptoms eventually went away, but the issues in her gut stuck around. Since then, Emma has had extreme nausea, losing most of the weight she had gained back.
For her part, Ms. Sherman has found solace in a group called Long COVID Kids, a nonprofit in Europe and the United States. The group is raising awareness about the condition in kids to increase funding, boost understanding, and improve treatment and outcomes.
“There’s nothing worse than watching your child suffer and not being able to do anything about it,” she said. “I tell Emma all the time: If I could just crawl in your body and take it, I would do it in a second.”
Emma is hoping for a fresh start with her family’s move in the coming weeks to Sotogrande in southern Spain.
“I miss the simplest things like going for a run, going to the fair with my friends, and just feeling well,” she said. “I have a long list of things I’ll do once this is all done.”
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
Emma Sherman, a 13-year-old girl in Ascot, England, woke up to a dizzying aura of blind spots and flashing lights in her field of vision. It was May 2020, and she also had crippling nausea and headaches. By August, her dizziness was so overwhelming, she couldn’t hold her head up, lying in her mother’s lap for hours, too fatigued to attend school.
The former competitive gymnast, who had hoped to try out for the cheerleading squad, now used a wheelchair and was a shadow of her former self. She had been diagnosed with COVID-induced postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, a condition often caused by an infection that results in a higher heart rate, extreme nausea, dizziness, and fatigue.
“I was so into sports before I got long COVID, and afterwards I could barely walk,” Emma said.
Even minor movements sent her heart rate sky-high. Her long chestnut hair turned gray and fell out in clumps. In the hospital, she was pricked and prodded, her blood tested for numerous conditions.
“They ran every scan known to man and took an MRI of her brain,” said Emma’s mother, Marie Sherman. “All was clear.”
Emma’s pediatrician determined that the teen had long COVID after having had a mild case of the virus in March, about 2 months before her puzzling symptoms began. But beyond a positive antibody test, doctors have found little evidence of what was causing Emma’s symptoms.
For Emma and others with long COVID, there are no medications shown to directly target the condition. Instead, caregivers target their symptoms, which include nausea, dizziness, fatigue, headaches, and a racing heart, said Laura Malone, MD, codirector of the Johns Hopkins Kennedy Krieger Pediatric Post–COVID-19 Rehabilitation Clinic in Baltimore.
“Right now, it’s a rehabilitation-based approach focused on improving symptoms and functioning so that kids can go back to their usual activities as much as possible,” she says.
Depression and anxiety are common, although doctors are struggling to figure out whether COVID is changing the brain or whether mental health symptoms result from all the life disruptions. There’s little research to show how may kids have depression because of long COVID. Dr. Malone said about half of her patients at the Kennedy Krieger Institute›s long COVID clinic are also dealing with mental health issues.
Patients with headaches, dizziness, and nausea are given pain and nausea medications and recommendations for a healthy diet with added fruits and vegetables, monounsaturated fats, lower sodium, unprocessed foods, and whole grains. Kids with irregular or racing heart rates are referred to cardiologists and potentially prescribed beta-blockers to treat their heart arrhythmias, while children with breathing problems may be referred to pulmonologists and those with depression to a psychiatrist.
Still, many patients like Emma go to their doctors with phantom symptoms that don’t show up on scans or blood tests.
“We’re not seeing any evidence of structural damage to the brain, for example,” said Dr. Malone. “When we do MRIs, they often come out normal.”
It’s possible that the virus lingers in some patients, said Rajeev Fernando, MD, an infectious disease specialist and a fellow at Harvard Medical School, Boston. Kids’ strong immune systems often fend off problems that can be noticed. But on the inside, dead fragments of the virus persist, floating in hidden parts of the body and activating the immune system long after the threat has passed.
The virus can be in the gut and in the brain, which may help explain why symptoms like brain fog and nausea can linger in children.
“The immune system doesn’t recognize whether fragments of the virus are dead or alive. It continues to think it’s fighting active COVID,” said Dr. Fernando.
There is little data on how long symptoms last, Dr. Fernando said, as well as how many kids get them and why some are more vulnerable than others. Some research has found that about 5%-15% of children with COVID may get long COVID, but the statistics vary globally.
“Children with long COVID have largely been ignored. And while we’re talking about it now, we’ve got some work to do,” said Dr. Fernando.
As for Emma, she recovered in January of 2021, heading back to school and her friends, although her cardiologist advised her to skip gym classes.
“For the first time in months, I was feeling like myself again,” she said.
But the coronavirus found its way to Emma again. Although she was fully vaccinated in the fall of 2021, when the Omicron variant swept the world late that year, she was infected again.
“When the wave of Omicron descended, Emma was like a sitting duck,” her mother said.
She was bedridden with a high fever and cough. The cold-like symptoms eventually went away, but the issues in her gut stuck around. Since then, Emma has had extreme nausea, losing most of the weight she had gained back.
For her part, Ms. Sherman has found solace in a group called Long COVID Kids, a nonprofit in Europe and the United States. The group is raising awareness about the condition in kids to increase funding, boost understanding, and improve treatment and outcomes.
“There’s nothing worse than watching your child suffer and not being able to do anything about it,” she said. “I tell Emma all the time: If I could just crawl in your body and take it, I would do it in a second.”
Emma is hoping for a fresh start with her family’s move in the coming weeks to Sotogrande in southern Spain.
“I miss the simplest things like going for a run, going to the fair with my friends, and just feeling well,” she said. “I have a long list of things I’ll do once this is all done.”
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
Emma Sherman, a 13-year-old girl in Ascot, England, woke up to a dizzying aura of blind spots and flashing lights in her field of vision. It was May 2020, and she also had crippling nausea and headaches. By August, her dizziness was so overwhelming, she couldn’t hold her head up, lying in her mother’s lap for hours, too fatigued to attend school.
The former competitive gymnast, who had hoped to try out for the cheerleading squad, now used a wheelchair and was a shadow of her former self. She had been diagnosed with COVID-induced postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, a condition often caused by an infection that results in a higher heart rate, extreme nausea, dizziness, and fatigue.
“I was so into sports before I got long COVID, and afterwards I could barely walk,” Emma said.
Even minor movements sent her heart rate sky-high. Her long chestnut hair turned gray and fell out in clumps. In the hospital, she was pricked and prodded, her blood tested for numerous conditions.
“They ran every scan known to man and took an MRI of her brain,” said Emma’s mother, Marie Sherman. “All was clear.”
Emma’s pediatrician determined that the teen had long COVID after having had a mild case of the virus in March, about 2 months before her puzzling symptoms began. But beyond a positive antibody test, doctors have found little evidence of what was causing Emma’s symptoms.
For Emma and others with long COVID, there are no medications shown to directly target the condition. Instead, caregivers target their symptoms, which include nausea, dizziness, fatigue, headaches, and a racing heart, said Laura Malone, MD, codirector of the Johns Hopkins Kennedy Krieger Pediatric Post–COVID-19 Rehabilitation Clinic in Baltimore.
“Right now, it’s a rehabilitation-based approach focused on improving symptoms and functioning so that kids can go back to their usual activities as much as possible,” she says.
Depression and anxiety are common, although doctors are struggling to figure out whether COVID is changing the brain or whether mental health symptoms result from all the life disruptions. There’s little research to show how may kids have depression because of long COVID. Dr. Malone said about half of her patients at the Kennedy Krieger Institute›s long COVID clinic are also dealing with mental health issues.
Patients with headaches, dizziness, and nausea are given pain and nausea medications and recommendations for a healthy diet with added fruits and vegetables, monounsaturated fats, lower sodium, unprocessed foods, and whole grains. Kids with irregular or racing heart rates are referred to cardiologists and potentially prescribed beta-blockers to treat their heart arrhythmias, while children with breathing problems may be referred to pulmonologists and those with depression to a psychiatrist.
Still, many patients like Emma go to their doctors with phantom symptoms that don’t show up on scans or blood tests.
“We’re not seeing any evidence of structural damage to the brain, for example,” said Dr. Malone. “When we do MRIs, they often come out normal.”
It’s possible that the virus lingers in some patients, said Rajeev Fernando, MD, an infectious disease specialist and a fellow at Harvard Medical School, Boston. Kids’ strong immune systems often fend off problems that can be noticed. But on the inside, dead fragments of the virus persist, floating in hidden parts of the body and activating the immune system long after the threat has passed.
The virus can be in the gut and in the brain, which may help explain why symptoms like brain fog and nausea can linger in children.
“The immune system doesn’t recognize whether fragments of the virus are dead or alive. It continues to think it’s fighting active COVID,” said Dr. Fernando.
There is little data on how long symptoms last, Dr. Fernando said, as well as how many kids get them and why some are more vulnerable than others. Some research has found that about 5%-15% of children with COVID may get long COVID, but the statistics vary globally.
“Children with long COVID have largely been ignored. And while we’re talking about it now, we’ve got some work to do,” said Dr. Fernando.
As for Emma, she recovered in January of 2021, heading back to school and her friends, although her cardiologist advised her to skip gym classes.
“For the first time in months, I was feeling like myself again,” she said.
But the coronavirus found its way to Emma again. Although she was fully vaccinated in the fall of 2021, when the Omicron variant swept the world late that year, she was infected again.
“When the wave of Omicron descended, Emma was like a sitting duck,” her mother said.
She was bedridden with a high fever and cough. The cold-like symptoms eventually went away, but the issues in her gut stuck around. Since then, Emma has had extreme nausea, losing most of the weight she had gained back.
For her part, Ms. Sherman has found solace in a group called Long COVID Kids, a nonprofit in Europe and the United States. The group is raising awareness about the condition in kids to increase funding, boost understanding, and improve treatment and outcomes.
“There’s nothing worse than watching your child suffer and not being able to do anything about it,” she said. “I tell Emma all the time: If I could just crawl in your body and take it, I would do it in a second.”
Emma is hoping for a fresh start with her family’s move in the coming weeks to Sotogrande in southern Spain.
“I miss the simplest things like going for a run, going to the fair with my friends, and just feeling well,” she said. “I have a long list of things I’ll do once this is all done.”
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
Women with high-risk pregnancies could die if Roe is overturned
Kendra Joseph of San Antonio, Tex., had given up on the idea of having a second child. At 40 years old, and with a daughter pleading for a sibling, she and her husband were nervous about the risk of trying for another child due to her advanced maternal age. Mrs. Joseph had ended an earlier pregnancy at 15 weeks after finding out her son had Edwards syndrome, a genetic trait that’s fatal in most cases.
Now a new Texas law that bans abortion past 6 weeks would mean that if either she or her baby were at risk of dying, she might still have to carry the baby to term. For Mrs. Joseph, it wasn’t worth the risk at first. Then in February, just as they had decided against another baby, the couple found out they were expecting. She’s thrilled about her pregnancy, but it’s also been a nervewracking few months.
“It’s scary being pregnant anyway,” she says, “but these new restrictions add a layer of stress.”
Twenty-eight states could ban or tightly restrict abortion if the Supreme Court overturns the landmark Roe v. Wade decision. A leaked draft of the court’s opinion has been widely interpreted as signaling that the court will overturn the law. This means that women who are at a higher risk of pregnancy complications or those who have chronic conditions before getting pregnant could be at risk of dying if they can’t get an abortion.
According to the CDC, the maternal mortality rate in the United States in 2020 was 23.8 deaths per 100,000 live births – among the highest in the developed world. The rate is eight times as high as it is in countries like the Netherlands, Norway, and New Zealand.
“Many of the women I take care of have a pregnancy that presents a real and present danger to their health, and this often goes along with the fact that they’re very unlikely to have a healthy baby,” says Chavi Karkowsky, MD, a maternal fetal medicine specialist at Montefiore Medical Center, New York.
Maternal mortality, she says, can be caused by health conditions that some women may not know about before getting pregnant. (For example, finding out she had cervical cancer at a prenatal visit and then having to choose between chemotherapy and her baby.) And there are also life-threatening conditions caused by pregnancy, like preeclampsia, which can cause high blood pressure and kidney damage, as well as gestational diabetes. Research has also shown that the risk of maternal mortality increases with age.
University of Colorado researchers, in a study published in the journal Demography, found that banning abortion nationwide would lead to a 20% increase in maternal death. For Black women, the increase in mortality could be as high as 33%, due to higher rates of poverty and less access to health care, says Amanda Stevenson, PhD, a sociologist at the University of Colorado and one of the study’s authors. Black women in the U.S. are more than three times as likely to die as a result of pregnancy complications due to poor exposure to health care, structural racism, and chronic health conditions, according to the CDC.
If Roe v. Wade is overturned, more women will likely die because remaining pregnant poses a far greater mortality risk for them than the risk associated with an abortion, says Dr. Stevenson.
For women with high-risk pregnancies who need an abortion, traveling out of state puts them at a health risk, says Jamila Perritt, MD, an ob.gyn. in Washington, D.C. and president of Physicians for Reproductive Health. In places where abortion is restricted, it can cause significant delays in accessing medical care. “Abortion is a time-sensitive procedure, and as the pregnancy progresses, it can become increasingly difficult to find a clinic that will provide care,” she says.
She recalls one of her patients who had a heart problem that required a pregnancy to be ended. The patient at first had to travel to find a doctor who could evaluate her unique condition, then go out of state to get an abortion. All the while, the clock was ticking and her health was at risk. In this case, the patient had the money to travel out of state, find child care, and pay for the procedure.
“This was a resourced individual, and while this was difficult for her, it wasn’t impossible,” says Dr. Perritt.
Many of the states with the highest maternal mortality rates, including Louisiana, Texas, Arkansas, Alabama, South Carolina, and Georgia, also plan to strictly limit abortions or ban them completely. Some abortion opponents insist this won’t harm mothers.
“The pro-life movement loves both babies and moms,” says Sarah Zagorski, a spokeswoman for Louisiana Right to Life. “It is a tragedy that Louisiana has high mortality rates among pregnant women. However, legal abortion does not improve these rates.”
But for many women who need an abortion, statewide bans may make it hard to get. This worries Kendra Joseph, who’s now 18 weeks into her pregnancy.
“I try to put the bad things that could happen out of my mind, but it’s really hard when you’re dealing with these totally unnecessary and cruel restrictions. We as women, we’re just losing so much,” she says.
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
Kendra Joseph of San Antonio, Tex., had given up on the idea of having a second child. At 40 years old, and with a daughter pleading for a sibling, she and her husband were nervous about the risk of trying for another child due to her advanced maternal age. Mrs. Joseph had ended an earlier pregnancy at 15 weeks after finding out her son had Edwards syndrome, a genetic trait that’s fatal in most cases.
Now a new Texas law that bans abortion past 6 weeks would mean that if either she or her baby were at risk of dying, she might still have to carry the baby to term. For Mrs. Joseph, it wasn’t worth the risk at first. Then in February, just as they had decided against another baby, the couple found out they were expecting. She’s thrilled about her pregnancy, but it’s also been a nervewracking few months.
“It’s scary being pregnant anyway,” she says, “but these new restrictions add a layer of stress.”
Twenty-eight states could ban or tightly restrict abortion if the Supreme Court overturns the landmark Roe v. Wade decision. A leaked draft of the court’s opinion has been widely interpreted as signaling that the court will overturn the law. This means that women who are at a higher risk of pregnancy complications or those who have chronic conditions before getting pregnant could be at risk of dying if they can’t get an abortion.
According to the CDC, the maternal mortality rate in the United States in 2020 was 23.8 deaths per 100,000 live births – among the highest in the developed world. The rate is eight times as high as it is in countries like the Netherlands, Norway, and New Zealand.
“Many of the women I take care of have a pregnancy that presents a real and present danger to their health, and this often goes along with the fact that they’re very unlikely to have a healthy baby,” says Chavi Karkowsky, MD, a maternal fetal medicine specialist at Montefiore Medical Center, New York.
Maternal mortality, she says, can be caused by health conditions that some women may not know about before getting pregnant. (For example, finding out she had cervical cancer at a prenatal visit and then having to choose between chemotherapy and her baby.) And there are also life-threatening conditions caused by pregnancy, like preeclampsia, which can cause high blood pressure and kidney damage, as well as gestational diabetes. Research has also shown that the risk of maternal mortality increases with age.
University of Colorado researchers, in a study published in the journal Demography, found that banning abortion nationwide would lead to a 20% increase in maternal death. For Black women, the increase in mortality could be as high as 33%, due to higher rates of poverty and less access to health care, says Amanda Stevenson, PhD, a sociologist at the University of Colorado and one of the study’s authors. Black women in the U.S. are more than three times as likely to die as a result of pregnancy complications due to poor exposure to health care, structural racism, and chronic health conditions, according to the CDC.
If Roe v. Wade is overturned, more women will likely die because remaining pregnant poses a far greater mortality risk for them than the risk associated with an abortion, says Dr. Stevenson.
For women with high-risk pregnancies who need an abortion, traveling out of state puts them at a health risk, says Jamila Perritt, MD, an ob.gyn. in Washington, D.C. and president of Physicians for Reproductive Health. In places where abortion is restricted, it can cause significant delays in accessing medical care. “Abortion is a time-sensitive procedure, and as the pregnancy progresses, it can become increasingly difficult to find a clinic that will provide care,” she says.
She recalls one of her patients who had a heart problem that required a pregnancy to be ended. The patient at first had to travel to find a doctor who could evaluate her unique condition, then go out of state to get an abortion. All the while, the clock was ticking and her health was at risk. In this case, the patient had the money to travel out of state, find child care, and pay for the procedure.
“This was a resourced individual, and while this was difficult for her, it wasn’t impossible,” says Dr. Perritt.
Many of the states with the highest maternal mortality rates, including Louisiana, Texas, Arkansas, Alabama, South Carolina, and Georgia, also plan to strictly limit abortions or ban them completely. Some abortion opponents insist this won’t harm mothers.
“The pro-life movement loves both babies and moms,” says Sarah Zagorski, a spokeswoman for Louisiana Right to Life. “It is a tragedy that Louisiana has high mortality rates among pregnant women. However, legal abortion does not improve these rates.”
But for many women who need an abortion, statewide bans may make it hard to get. This worries Kendra Joseph, who’s now 18 weeks into her pregnancy.
“I try to put the bad things that could happen out of my mind, but it’s really hard when you’re dealing with these totally unnecessary and cruel restrictions. We as women, we’re just losing so much,” she says.
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.
Kendra Joseph of San Antonio, Tex., had given up on the idea of having a second child. At 40 years old, and with a daughter pleading for a sibling, she and her husband were nervous about the risk of trying for another child due to her advanced maternal age. Mrs. Joseph had ended an earlier pregnancy at 15 weeks after finding out her son had Edwards syndrome, a genetic trait that’s fatal in most cases.
Now a new Texas law that bans abortion past 6 weeks would mean that if either she or her baby were at risk of dying, she might still have to carry the baby to term. For Mrs. Joseph, it wasn’t worth the risk at first. Then in February, just as they had decided against another baby, the couple found out they were expecting. She’s thrilled about her pregnancy, but it’s also been a nervewracking few months.
“It’s scary being pregnant anyway,” she says, “but these new restrictions add a layer of stress.”
Twenty-eight states could ban or tightly restrict abortion if the Supreme Court overturns the landmark Roe v. Wade decision. A leaked draft of the court’s opinion has been widely interpreted as signaling that the court will overturn the law. This means that women who are at a higher risk of pregnancy complications or those who have chronic conditions before getting pregnant could be at risk of dying if they can’t get an abortion.
According to the CDC, the maternal mortality rate in the United States in 2020 was 23.8 deaths per 100,000 live births – among the highest in the developed world. The rate is eight times as high as it is in countries like the Netherlands, Norway, and New Zealand.
“Many of the women I take care of have a pregnancy that presents a real and present danger to their health, and this often goes along with the fact that they’re very unlikely to have a healthy baby,” says Chavi Karkowsky, MD, a maternal fetal medicine specialist at Montefiore Medical Center, New York.
Maternal mortality, she says, can be caused by health conditions that some women may not know about before getting pregnant. (For example, finding out she had cervical cancer at a prenatal visit and then having to choose between chemotherapy and her baby.) And there are also life-threatening conditions caused by pregnancy, like preeclampsia, which can cause high blood pressure and kidney damage, as well as gestational diabetes. Research has also shown that the risk of maternal mortality increases with age.
University of Colorado researchers, in a study published in the journal Demography, found that banning abortion nationwide would lead to a 20% increase in maternal death. For Black women, the increase in mortality could be as high as 33%, due to higher rates of poverty and less access to health care, says Amanda Stevenson, PhD, a sociologist at the University of Colorado and one of the study’s authors. Black women in the U.S. are more than three times as likely to die as a result of pregnancy complications due to poor exposure to health care, structural racism, and chronic health conditions, according to the CDC.
If Roe v. Wade is overturned, more women will likely die because remaining pregnant poses a far greater mortality risk for them than the risk associated with an abortion, says Dr. Stevenson.
For women with high-risk pregnancies who need an abortion, traveling out of state puts them at a health risk, says Jamila Perritt, MD, an ob.gyn. in Washington, D.C. and president of Physicians for Reproductive Health. In places where abortion is restricted, it can cause significant delays in accessing medical care. “Abortion is a time-sensitive procedure, and as the pregnancy progresses, it can become increasingly difficult to find a clinic that will provide care,” she says.
She recalls one of her patients who had a heart problem that required a pregnancy to be ended. The patient at first had to travel to find a doctor who could evaluate her unique condition, then go out of state to get an abortion. All the while, the clock was ticking and her health was at risk. In this case, the patient had the money to travel out of state, find child care, and pay for the procedure.
“This was a resourced individual, and while this was difficult for her, it wasn’t impossible,” says Dr. Perritt.
Many of the states with the highest maternal mortality rates, including Louisiana, Texas, Arkansas, Alabama, South Carolina, and Georgia, also plan to strictly limit abortions or ban them completely. Some abortion opponents insist this won’t harm mothers.
“The pro-life movement loves both babies and moms,” says Sarah Zagorski, a spokeswoman for Louisiana Right to Life. “It is a tragedy that Louisiana has high mortality rates among pregnant women. However, legal abortion does not improve these rates.”
But for many women who need an abortion, statewide bans may make it hard to get. This worries Kendra Joseph, who’s now 18 weeks into her pregnancy.
“I try to put the bad things that could happen out of my mind, but it’s really hard when you’re dealing with these totally unnecessary and cruel restrictions. We as women, we’re just losing so much,” she says.
A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.