Business of Medicine

About 5% of traditional Medicare patients who had telehealth visits were seen virtually by out-of-state clinicians in the first half of 2021, according to a new study in JAMA Health Forum.

Since then, however, many states have restored restrictions that prevent physicians who are licensed in one state from having telehealth visits with patients unless they’re licensed in the state where the patients live.

RichLegg/Getty Images

This is not fair to many people who live in areas near state borders, the authors argued. For those patients, it is much more convenient to see their primary care physician in a virtual visit from home than to travel to the doctor’s office in another state. This convenience is enjoyed by most patients who reside elsewhere in their state because they’re seeing physicians who are licensed there.

Moreover, the paper said, patients who live in rural areas and in counties with relatively few physicians per capita would also benefit from relaxed telemedicine restrictions.

Using Medicare claims data, the researchers examined the characteristics of out-of-state (OOS) telemedicine visits for the 6 months from January to June 2021. They chose that period for two reasons: by then, health care had stabilized after the chaotic early phase of the pandemic, and in most states, the relaxation of licensing rules for OOS telehealth had not yet lapsed. Earlier periods of time were also used for certain types of comparisons.

Among fee-for-service Medicare beneficiaries, the number of OOS telemedicine visits peaked at 451,086 in April 2020 and slowly fell to 175,545 in June 2021, according to the study. The fraction of OOS telehealth visits among all virtual visits was 4.5% in April 2020 and increased to 5.6% by June 2021.
 

Staying close to home

Of all beneficiaries with a telemedicine visit in the study period, 33% lived within 15 miles of a state border. That cohort accounted for 57.2% of all OOS telemedicine visits.

The highest rates of OOS telehealth visits were seen in the District of Columbia (38.5%), Wyoming (25.6%), and North Dakota (21.1%). California (1%), Texas (2%), and Massachusetts (2.1%) had the lowest rates.

Though intuitive in retrospect, the correlation of OOS telemedicine use with proximity to state borders was one of the study’s most important findings, lead author Ateev Mehrotra, MD, a professor at Harvard Medical School, Boston, said in an interview. “It makes sense,” he said. “If you’re in D.C. and you need a cardiologist, you don’t think: ‘I’ll stay in D.C.’ No, Maryland is right there, so you might use a Maryland cardiologist. Now you’re out of state, even though that office might be only half a mile away from you.”

Similar dynamics, he noted, are seen in many metropolitan areas that border on other states, such as Cincinnati; Philadelphia; and Portland, Ore.

This finding lines up with another result of the study: The majority of patients who had OOS telemedicine visits had previously seen in person the doctor who conducted the virtual visit.

Across all OOS telemedicine visits in the first half of 2021, the researchers observed a prior in-person visit between March 2019 and the date of the virtual visit with the same patient and the same clinician in 62.8% of those visits. Across all in-state telehealth visits, 75.8% of them were made by patients who had seen the same clinician in person since March 2019. This preponderance of virtual visits to clinicians whom the patients had already seen in person reflects the fact that, during the pandemic, most physicians began conducting telehealth visits with their own patients, Dr. Mehrotra said.

It also lays to rest the concern that some states have had about allowing OOS telemedicine visits to physicians not licensed in those states, he added. “They think that all these docs from far away are going to start taking care of patients they don’t even know. But our study shows that isn’t the case. Most of the time, doctors are seeing a patient who’s switching over from in-person visits to out-of-state telemedicine.”
 

More specialty care sought

The dominant conditions that patients presented with were the same in OOS telemedicine and within-state virtual visits. However, the use of OOS telemedicine was higher for some types of specialized care.

For example, the rate of OOS telemedicine use, compared with all telemedicine use, was highest for cancer care (9.8%). Drilling down to more specific conditions, the top three in OOS telemedicine visits were assessment of organ transplant (13%); male reproductive cancers, such as prostate cancer (11.3%); and graft-related issues (10.2%).

The specialty trend was also evident in the types of OOS clinicians from whom Medicare patients sought virtual care. The rates of OOS telemedicine use as a percentage of all telemedicine use in particular specialties were highest for uncommon specialties, such as hematology/oncology, rheumatology, urology, medical oncology, and orthopedic surgery (8.5%). There was less use of OOS telemedicine as a percentage of all telemedicine among more common medical specialties (6.4%), mental health specialties (4.4%), and primary care (4.4%).

Despite its relatively low showing in this category, however, behavioral health was the leading condition treated in both within-state and OOS telemedicine visits, accounting for 30.7% and 25.8%, respectively, of those encounters.

States backslide on OOS telehealth

Since the end of the study period, over half of the states have restored some or all of the restrictions on OOS telemedicine that they had lifted during the pandemic.

According to Dr. Mehrotra, 22 states have some kind of regulation in place to allow an OOS clinician to conduct telehealth visits without being licensed in the state. This varies all the way from complete reciprocity with other states’ licenses to “emergency” telemedicine licenses. The other 28 states and Washington, D.C., require an OOS telemedicine practitioner to get a state license.

Various proposals have been floated to ameliorate this situation, the JAMA paper noted. These proposals include an expansion of the Interstate Medical Licensure Compact that the Federation of State Medical Boards organized in 2014. Since the pact became effective in 2014, at least 35 states and the District of Columbia have joined it. Those states have made it simpler for physicians to gain licensure in states other than their original state of licensure. However, Mehrotra said, it’s still not easy, and not many physicians have taken advantage of it.

One new wrinkle has emerged in this policy debate as a result of the Supreme Court decision overturning Roe v. Wade, he noted. Because people are using OOS telemedicine visits to get prescriptions to abort their fetuses, “that has changed the enthusiasm level for it among many states,” he said.

Dr. Mehrotra reported personal fees from the Pew Charitable Trust, Sanofi Pasteur, and Black Opal Ventures outside the submitted work. One coauthor reported receiving grants from Patient-Centered Outcomes Research, National Institute on Aging, Roundtrip, Independence Blue Cross; personal fees or salary from RAND Corporation from Verily Life Sciences; and that the American Telemedicine Association covered a conference fee. No other disclosures were reported.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

About 5% of traditional Medicare patients who had telehealth visits were seen virtually by out-of-state clinicians in the first half of 2021, according to a new study in JAMA Health Forum.

Since then, however, many states have restored restrictions that prevent physicians who are licensed in one state from having telehealth visits with patients unless they’re licensed in the state where the patients live.

RichLegg/Getty Images

This is not fair to many people who live in areas near state borders, the authors argued. For those patients, it is much more convenient to see their primary care physician in a virtual visit from home than to travel to the doctor’s office in another state. This convenience is enjoyed by most patients who reside elsewhere in their state because they’re seeing physicians who are licensed there.

Moreover, the paper said, patients who live in rural areas and in counties with relatively few physicians per capita would also benefit from relaxed telemedicine restrictions.

Using Medicare claims data, the researchers examined the characteristics of out-of-state (OOS) telemedicine visits for the 6 months from January to June 2021. They chose that period for two reasons: by then, health care had stabilized after the chaotic early phase of the pandemic, and in most states, the relaxation of licensing rules for OOS telehealth had not yet lapsed. Earlier periods of time were also used for certain types of comparisons.

Among fee-for-service Medicare beneficiaries, the number of OOS telemedicine visits peaked at 451,086 in April 2020 and slowly fell to 175,545 in June 2021, according to the study. The fraction of OOS telehealth visits among all virtual visits was 4.5% in April 2020 and increased to 5.6% by June 2021.
 

Staying close to home

Of all beneficiaries with a telemedicine visit in the study period, 33% lived within 15 miles of a state border. That cohort accounted for 57.2% of all OOS telemedicine visits.

The highest rates of OOS telehealth visits were seen in the District of Columbia (38.5%), Wyoming (25.6%), and North Dakota (21.1%). California (1%), Texas (2%), and Massachusetts (2.1%) had the lowest rates.

Though intuitive in retrospect, the correlation of OOS telemedicine use with proximity to state borders was one of the study’s most important findings, lead author Ateev Mehrotra, MD, a professor at Harvard Medical School, Boston, said in an interview. “It makes sense,” he said. “If you’re in D.C. and you need a cardiologist, you don’t think: ‘I’ll stay in D.C.’ No, Maryland is right there, so you might use a Maryland cardiologist. Now you’re out of state, even though that office might be only half a mile away from you.”

Similar dynamics, he noted, are seen in many metropolitan areas that border on other states, such as Cincinnati; Philadelphia; and Portland, Ore.

This finding lines up with another result of the study: The majority of patients who had OOS telemedicine visits had previously seen in person the doctor who conducted the virtual visit.

Across all OOS telemedicine visits in the first half of 2021, the researchers observed a prior in-person visit between March 2019 and the date of the virtual visit with the same patient and the same clinician in 62.8% of those visits. Across all in-state telehealth visits, 75.8% of them were made by patients who had seen the same clinician in person since March 2019. This preponderance of virtual visits to clinicians whom the patients had already seen in person reflects the fact that, during the pandemic, most physicians began conducting telehealth visits with their own patients, Dr. Mehrotra said.

It also lays to rest the concern that some states have had about allowing OOS telemedicine visits to physicians not licensed in those states, he added. “They think that all these docs from far away are going to start taking care of patients they don’t even know. But our study shows that isn’t the case. Most of the time, doctors are seeing a patient who’s switching over from in-person visits to out-of-state telemedicine.”
 

More specialty care sought

The dominant conditions that patients presented with were the same in OOS telemedicine and within-state virtual visits. However, the use of OOS telemedicine was higher for some types of specialized care.

For example, the rate of OOS telemedicine use, compared with all telemedicine use, was highest for cancer care (9.8%). Drilling down to more specific conditions, the top three in OOS telemedicine visits were assessment of organ transplant (13%); male reproductive cancers, such as prostate cancer (11.3%); and graft-related issues (10.2%).

The specialty trend was also evident in the types of OOS clinicians from whom Medicare patients sought virtual care. The rates of OOS telemedicine use as a percentage of all telemedicine use in particular specialties were highest for uncommon specialties, such as hematology/oncology, rheumatology, urology, medical oncology, and orthopedic surgery (8.5%). There was less use of OOS telemedicine as a percentage of all telemedicine among more common medical specialties (6.4%), mental health specialties (4.4%), and primary care (4.4%).

Despite its relatively low showing in this category, however, behavioral health was the leading condition treated in both within-state and OOS telemedicine visits, accounting for 30.7% and 25.8%, respectively, of those encounters.

States backslide on OOS telehealth

Since the end of the study period, over half of the states have restored some or all of the restrictions on OOS telemedicine that they had lifted during the pandemic.

According to Dr. Mehrotra, 22 states have some kind of regulation in place to allow an OOS clinician to conduct telehealth visits without being licensed in the state. This varies all the way from complete reciprocity with other states’ licenses to “emergency” telemedicine licenses. The other 28 states and Washington, D.C., require an OOS telemedicine practitioner to get a state license.

Various proposals have been floated to ameliorate this situation, the JAMA paper noted. These proposals include an expansion of the Interstate Medical Licensure Compact that the Federation of State Medical Boards organized in 2014. Since the pact became effective in 2014, at least 35 states and the District of Columbia have joined it. Those states have made it simpler for physicians to gain licensure in states other than their original state of licensure. However, Mehrotra said, it’s still not easy, and not many physicians have taken advantage of it.

One new wrinkle has emerged in this policy debate as a result of the Supreme Court decision overturning Roe v. Wade, he noted. Because people are using OOS telemedicine visits to get prescriptions to abort their fetuses, “that has changed the enthusiasm level for it among many states,” he said.

Dr. Mehrotra reported personal fees from the Pew Charitable Trust, Sanofi Pasteur, and Black Opal Ventures outside the submitted work. One coauthor reported receiving grants from Patient-Centered Outcomes Research, National Institute on Aging, Roundtrip, Independence Blue Cross; personal fees or salary from RAND Corporation from Verily Life Sciences; and that the American Telemedicine Association covered a conference fee. No other disclosures were reported.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

About 5% of traditional Medicare patients who had telehealth visits were seen virtually by out-of-state clinicians in the first half of 2021, according to a new study in JAMA Health Forum.

Since then, however, many states have restored restrictions that prevent physicians who are licensed in one state from having telehealth visits with patients unless they’re licensed in the state where the patients live.

RichLegg/Getty Images

This is not fair to many people who live in areas near state borders, the authors argued. For those patients, it is much more convenient to see their primary care physician in a virtual visit from home than to travel to the doctor’s office in another state. This convenience is enjoyed by most patients who reside elsewhere in their state because they’re seeing physicians who are licensed there.

Moreover, the paper said, patients who live in rural areas and in counties with relatively few physicians per capita would also benefit from relaxed telemedicine restrictions.

Using Medicare claims data, the researchers examined the characteristics of out-of-state (OOS) telemedicine visits for the 6 months from January to June 2021. They chose that period for two reasons: by then, health care had stabilized after the chaotic early phase of the pandemic, and in most states, the relaxation of licensing rules for OOS telehealth had not yet lapsed. Earlier periods of time were also used for certain types of comparisons.

Among fee-for-service Medicare beneficiaries, the number of OOS telemedicine visits peaked at 451,086 in April 2020 and slowly fell to 175,545 in June 2021, according to the study. The fraction of OOS telehealth visits among all virtual visits was 4.5% in April 2020 and increased to 5.6% by June 2021.
 

Staying close to home

Of all beneficiaries with a telemedicine visit in the study period, 33% lived within 15 miles of a state border. That cohort accounted for 57.2% of all OOS telemedicine visits.

The highest rates of OOS telehealth visits were seen in the District of Columbia (38.5%), Wyoming (25.6%), and North Dakota (21.1%). California (1%), Texas (2%), and Massachusetts (2.1%) had the lowest rates.

Though intuitive in retrospect, the correlation of OOS telemedicine use with proximity to state borders was one of the study’s most important findings, lead author Ateev Mehrotra, MD, a professor at Harvard Medical School, Boston, said in an interview. “It makes sense,” he said. “If you’re in D.C. and you need a cardiologist, you don’t think: ‘I’ll stay in D.C.’ No, Maryland is right there, so you might use a Maryland cardiologist. Now you’re out of state, even though that office might be only half a mile away from you.”

Similar dynamics, he noted, are seen in many metropolitan areas that border on other states, such as Cincinnati; Philadelphia; and Portland, Ore.

This finding lines up with another result of the study: The majority of patients who had OOS telemedicine visits had previously seen in person the doctor who conducted the virtual visit.

Across all OOS telemedicine visits in the first half of 2021, the researchers observed a prior in-person visit between March 2019 and the date of the virtual visit with the same patient and the same clinician in 62.8% of those visits. Across all in-state telehealth visits, 75.8% of them were made by patients who had seen the same clinician in person since March 2019. This preponderance of virtual visits to clinicians whom the patients had already seen in person reflects the fact that, during the pandemic, most physicians began conducting telehealth visits with their own patients, Dr. Mehrotra said.

It also lays to rest the concern that some states have had about allowing OOS telemedicine visits to physicians not licensed in those states, he added. “They think that all these docs from far away are going to start taking care of patients they don’t even know. But our study shows that isn’t the case. Most of the time, doctors are seeing a patient who’s switching over from in-person visits to out-of-state telemedicine.”
 

More specialty care sought

The dominant conditions that patients presented with were the same in OOS telemedicine and within-state virtual visits. However, the use of OOS telemedicine was higher for some types of specialized care.

For example, the rate of OOS telemedicine use, compared with all telemedicine use, was highest for cancer care (9.8%). Drilling down to more specific conditions, the top three in OOS telemedicine visits were assessment of organ transplant (13%); male reproductive cancers, such as prostate cancer (11.3%); and graft-related issues (10.2%).

The specialty trend was also evident in the types of OOS clinicians from whom Medicare patients sought virtual care. The rates of OOS telemedicine use as a percentage of all telemedicine use in particular specialties were highest for uncommon specialties, such as hematology/oncology, rheumatology, urology, medical oncology, and orthopedic surgery (8.5%). There was less use of OOS telemedicine as a percentage of all telemedicine among more common medical specialties (6.4%), mental health specialties (4.4%), and primary care (4.4%).

Despite its relatively low showing in this category, however, behavioral health was the leading condition treated in both within-state and OOS telemedicine visits, accounting for 30.7% and 25.8%, respectively, of those encounters.

States backslide on OOS telehealth

Since the end of the study period, over half of the states have restored some or all of the restrictions on OOS telemedicine that they had lifted during the pandemic.

According to Dr. Mehrotra, 22 states have some kind of regulation in place to allow an OOS clinician to conduct telehealth visits without being licensed in the state. This varies all the way from complete reciprocity with other states’ licenses to “emergency” telemedicine licenses. The other 28 states and Washington, D.C., require an OOS telemedicine practitioner to get a state license.

Various proposals have been floated to ameliorate this situation, the JAMA paper noted. These proposals include an expansion of the Interstate Medical Licensure Compact that the Federation of State Medical Boards organized in 2014. Since the pact became effective in 2014, at least 35 states and the District of Columbia have joined it. Those states have made it simpler for physicians to gain licensure in states other than their original state of licensure. However, Mehrotra said, it’s still not easy, and not many physicians have taken advantage of it.

One new wrinkle has emerged in this policy debate as a result of the Supreme Court decision overturning Roe v. Wade, he noted. Because people are using OOS telemedicine visits to get prescriptions to abort their fetuses, “that has changed the enthusiasm level for it among many states,” he said.

Dr. Mehrotra reported personal fees from the Pew Charitable Trust, Sanofi Pasteur, and Black Opal Ventures outside the submitted work. One coauthor reported receiving grants from Patient-Centered Outcomes Research, National Institute on Aging, Roundtrip, Independence Blue Cross; personal fees or salary from RAND Corporation from Verily Life Sciences; and that the American Telemedicine Association covered a conference fee. No other disclosures were reported.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

LONDON – A little over a decade ago, Four Seasons Health Care was among the largest long-term care home companies in Britain, operating 500 sites with 20,000 residents and more than 60 specialist centers. Domestic and global private equity investors had supercharged the company’s growth, betting that the rising needs of aging Britons would yield big returns.

Within weeks, the Four Seasons brand may be finished.

Christie & Co., a commercial real estate broker, splashed a summer sale across its website that signaled the demise: The last 111 Four Seasons facilities in England, Scotland, and Jersey were on the market. Already sold were its 29 homes in Northern Ireland.

Four Seasons collapsed after years of private equity investors rolling in one after another to buy its business, sell its real estate, and at times wrest multimillion-dollar profits through complex debt schemes – until the last big equity fund, Terra Firma, which in 2012 paid about $1.3 billion for the company, was caught short.

In a country where government health care is a right, the Four Seasons story exemplifies the high-stakes rise – and, ultimately, fall – of private equity investment in health and social services. Hanging over society’s most vulnerable patients, these heavily leveraged deals failed to account for the cost of their care. Private equity firms are known for making a profit on quick-turnaround investments.

“People often say: ‘Why have American investors, as well as professional investors here and in other countries, poured so much into this sector?’ I think they were dazzled by the potential of the demographics,” said Nick Hood, an analyst at Opus Restructuring & Insolvency in London, which advises care homes – the British equivalent of U.S. nursing homes or assisted living facilities. They “saw the baby boomers aging and thought there would be infinite demands.”

What they missed, Mr. Hood said, “was that about half of all the residents in U.K. homes are funded by the government in one way or another. They aren’t private pay – and they’ve got no money.”
 

Residents as ‘revenue streams’

As in the United States, long-term care homes in Britain serve a mixed market of public- and private-pay residents, and those whose balance sheets rest heavily on government payments are stressed even in better economic times. Andrew Dobbie, a community officer for Unison, a union that represents care home workers, said private equity investors often see homes like Four Seasons as having “two revenue streams, the properties themselves and the residents,” with efficiencies to exploit.

But investors don’t always understand what caregivers do, he said, or that older residents require more time than spreadsheets have calculated. “That’s a problem when you are looking at operating care homes,” Mr. Dobbie said. “Care workers need to have soft skills to work with a vulnerable group of people. It’s not the same skills as stocking shelves in a supermarket.”

A recent study, funded in part by Unison and conducted by University of Surrey researchers, found big changes in the quality of care after private equity investments. More than a dozen staff members, who weren’t identified by name or facility, said companies were “cutting corners” to curb costs because their priority was profit. Staffers said “these changes meant residents sometimes went without the appropriate care, timely medication or sufficient sanitary supplies.”

In August, the House of Commons received a sobering account: The number of adults 65 and older who will need care is speedily rising, estimated to go from 3.5 million in 2018 to 5.2 million in 2038. Yet workers at care homes are among the lowest paid in health care.

“The covid-19 pandemic shone a light on the adult social care sector,” according to the parliamentary report, which noted that “many frustrated and burnt out care workers left” for better-paying jobs. The report’s advice in a year of soaring inflation and energy costs? The government should add “at least £7 billion a year” – more than $8 billion – or risk deterioration of care.

Britain’s care homes are separate from the much-lauded National Health Service, funded by the government. Care homes rely on support from local authorities, akin to counties in the United States. But they have seen a sharp drop in funding from the British government, which cut a third of its payments in the past decade. When the pandemic hit, the differences were apparent: Care home workers were not afforded masks, gloves, or gowns to shield them from the deadly virus.

Years ago, care homes were largely run by families or local entities. In the 1990s, the government promoted privatization, triggering investments and consolidations. Today, private equity firms own three of the country’s five biggest care home providers.

Chris Thomas, a research fellow at the Institute for Public Policy Research, said investors benefited from scant financial oversight. “The accounting practices are horrendously complicated and meant to be complicated,” he said. Local authorities try “to regulate more, but they don’t have the expertise.”
 

The financial shuffle

At Four Seasons, the speed of change was dizzying. From 2004 to 2017, big money came and went, with revenue at times threaded through multiple offshore vehicles. Among the groups that owned Four Seasons, in part or in its entirety: British private equity firm Alchemy Partners; Allianz Capital Partners, a German private equity firm; Three Delta, an investment fund backed by Qatar; the American hedge fund Monarch Alternative Capital; and Terra Firma, the British private equity group that wallowed in debt demands. H/2 Capital Partners, a hedge fund in Connecticut, was Four Seasons’ main creditor and took over. By 2019, Four Seasons was managed by insolvency experts.

Pressed on whether Four Seasons would exist in any form after the current sale of its property and businesses, MHP Communications, representing the company, said in an email: “It is too early in the process to speculate about the future of the brand.”

Vivek Kotecha, an accountant who has examined the Four Seasons financial shuffle and coauthored the Unison report, said private equity investment – in homes for older residents and, increasingly, in facilities for troubled children – is now part of the financial mainstream. The consulting firm McKinsey in 2022estimated that private markets manage nearly $10 trillion in assets, making them a dominant force in global markets.

“What you find in America with private equity is much the same here,” said Mr. Kotecha, the founder of Trinava Consulting in London. “They are often the same firms, doing the same things.” What was remarkable about Four Seasons was the enormous liability from high-yield bonds that underpinned the deal – one equaling $514 million at 8.75% interest and another for $277 million at 12.75% interest.

Guy Hands, the high-flying British founder of Terra Firma, bought Four Seasons in 2012, soon after losing an epic court battle with Citigroup over the purchase price of the music company EMI Group. Terra Firma acquired the care homes and then a gardening business with more than 100 stores. Neither proved easy, or good, bets. Hands, a Londoner who moved offshore to Guernsey, declined through a representative to discuss Four Seasons.

Mr. Kotecha, however, helped the BBC try to make sense of Four Seasons’ holdings by tracking financial filings. It was “the most complicated spreadsheet I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Kotecha said. “I think there were more subsidiaries involved in Four Seasons’ care homes than there were with General Motors in Europe.”

As Britain’s small homes were swept up in consolidations, some financial practices were dubious. At times, businesses sold the buildings as lease-back deals – not a problem at first – that, after multiple purchases, left operators paying rent with heavy interest that sapped operating budgets. By 2020, some care homes were estimated to be spending as much as 16% of their bed fees on debt payments, according to parliamentary testimony this year.

How could that happen? In part, for-profit providers – backed by private-equity groups and other corporations – had subsidiaries of their parent companies act as lender, setting the rates.

Britain’s elder care was unrecognizable within a generation. By 2022, private-equity companies alone accounted for 55,000 beds, or about 12.6% of the total for-profit care beds for older people in the United Kingdom, according to LaingBuisson, a health care consultancy. LaingBuisson calculated that the average residential care home fee as of February 2022 was about $44,700 a year; the average nursing home fee was $62,275 a year.

From 1980 to 2018, the number of residential care beds provided by local authorities fell 88% – from 141,719 to 17,100, according to the nonprofit Centre for Health and the Public Interest. Independent operators – nonprofits and for-profits – moved in, it said, controlling 243,000 beds by 2018. Nursing homes saw a similar shift: Private providers accounted for 194,100 beds in 2018, compared with 25,500 decades earlier.
 

Beyond government control

British lawmakers in the winter of 2021-2022 tried – and failed – to bolster financial reporting rules for care homes, including banning the use of government funds to pay off debt.

“I don’t have a problem with offshore companies that make profits if they offer good services. I don’t have a problem with private equity and hedge funds who deliver good returns to their shareholders,” Ros Altmann, a Conservative Party member in the House of Lords and a pension expert, said in a February debate. “I do have a problem if those companies are taking advantage of some of the most vulnerable people in our society without oversight, without controls.”

She cited Four Seasons as an example of how regulators “have no control over the financial models that are used.” Ms. Altmann warned that economic headwinds could worsen matters: “We now have very heavily debt-laden [homes] in an environment where interest rates are heading upward.”

In August, the Bank of England raised borrowing rates. It now forecasts double-digit inflation – as much as 11% – through 2023.

And that leaves care home owner Robert Kilgour pensive about whether government grasps the risks and possibilities that the sector is facing. “It’s a struggle, and it’s becoming more of a struggle,” he said. A global energy crisis is the latest unexpected emergency. Mr. Kilgour said he recently signed electricity contracts, for April 2023, at rates that will rise by 200%. That means an extra $2,400 a day in utility costs for his homes.

Mr. Kilgour founded Four Seasons, opening its first home, in Fife, Scotland, in 1989. His ambition for its growth was modest: “Ten by 2000.” That changed in 1999 when Alchemy swooped in to expand nationally. Mr. Kilgour had left Four Seasons by 2004, turning to other ventures.

Still, he saw opportunity in elder care and opened Renaissance Care, which now operates 16 homes with 750 beds in Scotland. “I missed it,” he said in an interview in London. “It’s people and it’s property, and I like that.”

“People asked me if I had any regrets about selling to private equity. Well, no, the people I dealt with were very fair, very straight. There were no shenanigans,” Mr. Kilgour said, noting that Alchemy made money but invested as well.

Mr. Kilgour said the pandemic motivated him to improve his business. He is spending millions on new LED lighting and boilers, as well as training staffers on digital record-keeping, all to winnow costs. He increased hourly wages by 5%, but employees have suggested other ways to retain staff: shorter shifts and workdays that fit school schedules or allow them to care for their own older relatives.

Debates over whether the government should move back into elder care make little sense to Mr. Kilgour. Britain has had private care for decades, and he doesn’t see that changing. Instead, operators need help balancing private and publicly funded beds “so you have a blended rate for care and some certainty in the business.”

Consolidations are slowing, he said, which might be part of a long-overdue reckoning. “The idea of 200, 300, 400 care homes – that big is good and big is best – those days are gone,” Mr. Kilgour said.

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

LONDON – A little over a decade ago, Four Seasons Health Care was among the largest long-term care home companies in Britain, operating 500 sites with 20,000 residents and more than 60 specialist centers. Domestic and global private equity investors had supercharged the company’s growth, betting that the rising needs of aging Britons would yield big returns.

Within weeks, the Four Seasons brand may be finished.

Christie & Co., a commercial real estate broker, splashed a summer sale across its website that signaled the demise: The last 111 Four Seasons facilities in England, Scotland, and Jersey were on the market. Already sold were its 29 homes in Northern Ireland.

Four Seasons collapsed after years of private equity investors rolling in one after another to buy its business, sell its real estate, and at times wrest multimillion-dollar profits through complex debt schemes – until the last big equity fund, Terra Firma, which in 2012 paid about $1.3 billion for the company, was caught short.

In a country where government health care is a right, the Four Seasons story exemplifies the high-stakes rise – and, ultimately, fall – of private equity investment in health and social services. Hanging over society’s most vulnerable patients, these heavily leveraged deals failed to account for the cost of their care. Private equity firms are known for making a profit on quick-turnaround investments.

“People often say: ‘Why have American investors, as well as professional investors here and in other countries, poured so much into this sector?’ I think they were dazzled by the potential of the demographics,” said Nick Hood, an analyst at Opus Restructuring & Insolvency in London, which advises care homes – the British equivalent of U.S. nursing homes or assisted living facilities. They “saw the baby boomers aging and thought there would be infinite demands.”

What they missed, Mr. Hood said, “was that about half of all the residents in U.K. homes are funded by the government in one way or another. They aren’t private pay – and they’ve got no money.”
 

Residents as ‘revenue streams’

As in the United States, long-term care homes in Britain serve a mixed market of public- and private-pay residents, and those whose balance sheets rest heavily on government payments are stressed even in better economic times. Andrew Dobbie, a community officer for Unison, a union that represents care home workers, said private equity investors often see homes like Four Seasons as having “two revenue streams, the properties themselves and the residents,” with efficiencies to exploit.

But investors don’t always understand what caregivers do, he said, or that older residents require more time than spreadsheets have calculated. “That’s a problem when you are looking at operating care homes,” Mr. Dobbie said. “Care workers need to have soft skills to work with a vulnerable group of people. It’s not the same skills as stocking shelves in a supermarket.”

A recent study, funded in part by Unison and conducted by University of Surrey researchers, found big changes in the quality of care after private equity investments. More than a dozen staff members, who weren’t identified by name or facility, said companies were “cutting corners” to curb costs because their priority was profit. Staffers said “these changes meant residents sometimes went without the appropriate care, timely medication or sufficient sanitary supplies.”

In August, the House of Commons received a sobering account: The number of adults 65 and older who will need care is speedily rising, estimated to go from 3.5 million in 2018 to 5.2 million in 2038. Yet workers at care homes are among the lowest paid in health care.

“The covid-19 pandemic shone a light on the adult social care sector,” according to the parliamentary report, which noted that “many frustrated and burnt out care workers left” for better-paying jobs. The report’s advice in a year of soaring inflation and energy costs? The government should add “at least £7 billion a year” – more than $8 billion – or risk deterioration of care.

Britain’s care homes are separate from the much-lauded National Health Service, funded by the government. Care homes rely on support from local authorities, akin to counties in the United States. But they have seen a sharp drop in funding from the British government, which cut a third of its payments in the past decade. When the pandemic hit, the differences were apparent: Care home workers were not afforded masks, gloves, or gowns to shield them from the deadly virus.

Years ago, care homes were largely run by families or local entities. In the 1990s, the government promoted privatization, triggering investments and consolidations. Today, private equity firms own three of the country’s five biggest care home providers.

Chris Thomas, a research fellow at the Institute for Public Policy Research, said investors benefited from scant financial oversight. “The accounting practices are horrendously complicated and meant to be complicated,” he said. Local authorities try “to regulate more, but they don’t have the expertise.”
 

The financial shuffle

At Four Seasons, the speed of change was dizzying. From 2004 to 2017, big money came and went, with revenue at times threaded through multiple offshore vehicles. Among the groups that owned Four Seasons, in part or in its entirety: British private equity firm Alchemy Partners; Allianz Capital Partners, a German private equity firm; Three Delta, an investment fund backed by Qatar; the American hedge fund Monarch Alternative Capital; and Terra Firma, the British private equity group that wallowed in debt demands. H/2 Capital Partners, a hedge fund in Connecticut, was Four Seasons’ main creditor and took over. By 2019, Four Seasons was managed by insolvency experts.

Pressed on whether Four Seasons would exist in any form after the current sale of its property and businesses, MHP Communications, representing the company, said in an email: “It is too early in the process to speculate about the future of the brand.”

Vivek Kotecha, an accountant who has examined the Four Seasons financial shuffle and coauthored the Unison report, said private equity investment – in homes for older residents and, increasingly, in facilities for troubled children – is now part of the financial mainstream. The consulting firm McKinsey in 2022estimated that private markets manage nearly $10 trillion in assets, making them a dominant force in global markets.

“What you find in America with private equity is much the same here,” said Mr. Kotecha, the founder of Trinava Consulting in London. “They are often the same firms, doing the same things.” What was remarkable about Four Seasons was the enormous liability from high-yield bonds that underpinned the deal – one equaling $514 million at 8.75% interest and another for $277 million at 12.75% interest.

Guy Hands, the high-flying British founder of Terra Firma, bought Four Seasons in 2012, soon after losing an epic court battle with Citigroup over the purchase price of the music company EMI Group. Terra Firma acquired the care homes and then a gardening business with more than 100 stores. Neither proved easy, or good, bets. Hands, a Londoner who moved offshore to Guernsey, declined through a representative to discuss Four Seasons.

Mr. Kotecha, however, helped the BBC try to make sense of Four Seasons’ holdings by tracking financial filings. It was “the most complicated spreadsheet I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Kotecha said. “I think there were more subsidiaries involved in Four Seasons’ care homes than there were with General Motors in Europe.”

As Britain’s small homes were swept up in consolidations, some financial practices were dubious. At times, businesses sold the buildings as lease-back deals – not a problem at first – that, after multiple purchases, left operators paying rent with heavy interest that sapped operating budgets. By 2020, some care homes were estimated to be spending as much as 16% of their bed fees on debt payments, according to parliamentary testimony this year.

How could that happen? In part, for-profit providers – backed by private-equity groups and other corporations – had subsidiaries of their parent companies act as lender, setting the rates.

Britain’s elder care was unrecognizable within a generation. By 2022, private-equity companies alone accounted for 55,000 beds, or about 12.6% of the total for-profit care beds for older people in the United Kingdom, according to LaingBuisson, a health care consultancy. LaingBuisson calculated that the average residential care home fee as of February 2022 was about $44,700 a year; the average nursing home fee was $62,275 a year.

From 1980 to 2018, the number of residential care beds provided by local authorities fell 88% – from 141,719 to 17,100, according to the nonprofit Centre for Health and the Public Interest. Independent operators – nonprofits and for-profits – moved in, it said, controlling 243,000 beds by 2018. Nursing homes saw a similar shift: Private providers accounted for 194,100 beds in 2018, compared with 25,500 decades earlier.
 

Beyond government control

British lawmakers in the winter of 2021-2022 tried – and failed – to bolster financial reporting rules for care homes, including banning the use of government funds to pay off debt.

“I don’t have a problem with offshore companies that make profits if they offer good services. I don’t have a problem with private equity and hedge funds who deliver good returns to their shareholders,” Ros Altmann, a Conservative Party member in the House of Lords and a pension expert, said in a February debate. “I do have a problem if those companies are taking advantage of some of the most vulnerable people in our society without oversight, without controls.”

She cited Four Seasons as an example of how regulators “have no control over the financial models that are used.” Ms. Altmann warned that economic headwinds could worsen matters: “We now have very heavily debt-laden [homes] in an environment where interest rates are heading upward.”

In August, the Bank of England raised borrowing rates. It now forecasts double-digit inflation – as much as 11% – through 2023.

And that leaves care home owner Robert Kilgour pensive about whether government grasps the risks and possibilities that the sector is facing. “It’s a struggle, and it’s becoming more of a struggle,” he said. A global energy crisis is the latest unexpected emergency. Mr. Kilgour said he recently signed electricity contracts, for April 2023, at rates that will rise by 200%. That means an extra $2,400 a day in utility costs for his homes.

Mr. Kilgour founded Four Seasons, opening its first home, in Fife, Scotland, in 1989. His ambition for its growth was modest: “Ten by 2000.” That changed in 1999 when Alchemy swooped in to expand nationally. Mr. Kilgour had left Four Seasons by 2004, turning to other ventures.

Still, he saw opportunity in elder care and opened Renaissance Care, which now operates 16 homes with 750 beds in Scotland. “I missed it,” he said in an interview in London. “It’s people and it’s property, and I like that.”

“People asked me if I had any regrets about selling to private equity. Well, no, the people I dealt with were very fair, very straight. There were no shenanigans,” Mr. Kilgour said, noting that Alchemy made money but invested as well.

Mr. Kilgour said the pandemic motivated him to improve his business. He is spending millions on new LED lighting and boilers, as well as training staffers on digital record-keeping, all to winnow costs. He increased hourly wages by 5%, but employees have suggested other ways to retain staff: shorter shifts and workdays that fit school schedules or allow them to care for their own older relatives.

Debates over whether the government should move back into elder care make little sense to Mr. Kilgour. Britain has had private care for decades, and he doesn’t see that changing. Instead, operators need help balancing private and publicly funded beds “so you have a blended rate for care and some certainty in the business.”

Consolidations are slowing, he said, which might be part of a long-overdue reckoning. “The idea of 200, 300, 400 care homes – that big is good and big is best – those days are gone,” Mr. Kilgour said.

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

LONDON – A little over a decade ago, Four Seasons Health Care was among the largest long-term care home companies in Britain, operating 500 sites with 20,000 residents and more than 60 specialist centers. Domestic and global private equity investors had supercharged the company’s growth, betting that the rising needs of aging Britons would yield big returns.

Within weeks, the Four Seasons brand may be finished.

Christie & Co., a commercial real estate broker, splashed a summer sale across its website that signaled the demise: The last 111 Four Seasons facilities in England, Scotland, and Jersey were on the market. Already sold were its 29 homes in Northern Ireland.

Four Seasons collapsed after years of private equity investors rolling in one after another to buy its business, sell its real estate, and at times wrest multimillion-dollar profits through complex debt schemes – until the last big equity fund, Terra Firma, which in 2012 paid about $1.3 billion for the company, was caught short.

In a country where government health care is a right, the Four Seasons story exemplifies the high-stakes rise – and, ultimately, fall – of private equity investment in health and social services. Hanging over society’s most vulnerable patients, these heavily leveraged deals failed to account for the cost of their care. Private equity firms are known for making a profit on quick-turnaround investments.

“People often say: ‘Why have American investors, as well as professional investors here and in other countries, poured so much into this sector?’ I think they were dazzled by the potential of the demographics,” said Nick Hood, an analyst at Opus Restructuring & Insolvency in London, which advises care homes – the British equivalent of U.S. nursing homes or assisted living facilities. They “saw the baby boomers aging and thought there would be infinite demands.”

What they missed, Mr. Hood said, “was that about half of all the residents in U.K. homes are funded by the government in one way or another. They aren’t private pay – and they’ve got no money.”
 

Residents as ‘revenue streams’

As in the United States, long-term care homes in Britain serve a mixed market of public- and private-pay residents, and those whose balance sheets rest heavily on government payments are stressed even in better economic times. Andrew Dobbie, a community officer for Unison, a union that represents care home workers, said private equity investors often see homes like Four Seasons as having “two revenue streams, the properties themselves and the residents,” with efficiencies to exploit.

But investors don’t always understand what caregivers do, he said, or that older residents require more time than spreadsheets have calculated. “That’s a problem when you are looking at operating care homes,” Mr. Dobbie said. “Care workers need to have soft skills to work with a vulnerable group of people. It’s not the same skills as stocking shelves in a supermarket.”

A recent study, funded in part by Unison and conducted by University of Surrey researchers, found big changes in the quality of care after private equity investments. More than a dozen staff members, who weren’t identified by name or facility, said companies were “cutting corners” to curb costs because their priority was profit. Staffers said “these changes meant residents sometimes went without the appropriate care, timely medication or sufficient sanitary supplies.”

In August, the House of Commons received a sobering account: The number of adults 65 and older who will need care is speedily rising, estimated to go from 3.5 million in 2018 to 5.2 million in 2038. Yet workers at care homes are among the lowest paid in health care.

“The covid-19 pandemic shone a light on the adult social care sector,” according to the parliamentary report, which noted that “many frustrated and burnt out care workers left” for better-paying jobs. The report’s advice in a year of soaring inflation and energy costs? The government should add “at least £7 billion a year” – more than $8 billion – or risk deterioration of care.

Britain’s care homes are separate from the much-lauded National Health Service, funded by the government. Care homes rely on support from local authorities, akin to counties in the United States. But they have seen a sharp drop in funding from the British government, which cut a third of its payments in the past decade. When the pandemic hit, the differences were apparent: Care home workers were not afforded masks, gloves, or gowns to shield them from the deadly virus.

Years ago, care homes were largely run by families or local entities. In the 1990s, the government promoted privatization, triggering investments and consolidations. Today, private equity firms own three of the country’s five biggest care home providers.

Chris Thomas, a research fellow at the Institute for Public Policy Research, said investors benefited from scant financial oversight. “The accounting practices are horrendously complicated and meant to be complicated,” he said. Local authorities try “to regulate more, but they don’t have the expertise.”
 

The financial shuffle

At Four Seasons, the speed of change was dizzying. From 2004 to 2017, big money came and went, with revenue at times threaded through multiple offshore vehicles. Among the groups that owned Four Seasons, in part or in its entirety: British private equity firm Alchemy Partners; Allianz Capital Partners, a German private equity firm; Three Delta, an investment fund backed by Qatar; the American hedge fund Monarch Alternative Capital; and Terra Firma, the British private equity group that wallowed in debt demands. H/2 Capital Partners, a hedge fund in Connecticut, was Four Seasons’ main creditor and took over. By 2019, Four Seasons was managed by insolvency experts.

Pressed on whether Four Seasons would exist in any form after the current sale of its property and businesses, MHP Communications, representing the company, said in an email: “It is too early in the process to speculate about the future of the brand.”

Vivek Kotecha, an accountant who has examined the Four Seasons financial shuffle and coauthored the Unison report, said private equity investment – in homes for older residents and, increasingly, in facilities for troubled children – is now part of the financial mainstream. The consulting firm McKinsey in 2022estimated that private markets manage nearly $10 trillion in assets, making them a dominant force in global markets.

“What you find in America with private equity is much the same here,” said Mr. Kotecha, the founder of Trinava Consulting in London. “They are often the same firms, doing the same things.” What was remarkable about Four Seasons was the enormous liability from high-yield bonds that underpinned the deal – one equaling $514 million at 8.75% interest and another for $277 million at 12.75% interest.

Guy Hands, the high-flying British founder of Terra Firma, bought Four Seasons in 2012, soon after losing an epic court battle with Citigroup over the purchase price of the music company EMI Group. Terra Firma acquired the care homes and then a gardening business with more than 100 stores. Neither proved easy, or good, bets. Hands, a Londoner who moved offshore to Guernsey, declined through a representative to discuss Four Seasons.

Mr. Kotecha, however, helped the BBC try to make sense of Four Seasons’ holdings by tracking financial filings. It was “the most complicated spreadsheet I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Kotecha said. “I think there were more subsidiaries involved in Four Seasons’ care homes than there were with General Motors in Europe.”

As Britain’s small homes were swept up in consolidations, some financial practices were dubious. At times, businesses sold the buildings as lease-back deals – not a problem at first – that, after multiple purchases, left operators paying rent with heavy interest that sapped operating budgets. By 2020, some care homes were estimated to be spending as much as 16% of their bed fees on debt payments, according to parliamentary testimony this year.

How could that happen? In part, for-profit providers – backed by private-equity groups and other corporations – had subsidiaries of their parent companies act as lender, setting the rates.

Britain’s elder care was unrecognizable within a generation. By 2022, private-equity companies alone accounted for 55,000 beds, or about 12.6% of the total for-profit care beds for older people in the United Kingdom, according to LaingBuisson, a health care consultancy. LaingBuisson calculated that the average residential care home fee as of February 2022 was about $44,700 a year; the average nursing home fee was $62,275 a year.

From 1980 to 2018, the number of residential care beds provided by local authorities fell 88% – from 141,719 to 17,100, according to the nonprofit Centre for Health and the Public Interest. Independent operators – nonprofits and for-profits – moved in, it said, controlling 243,000 beds by 2018. Nursing homes saw a similar shift: Private providers accounted for 194,100 beds in 2018, compared with 25,500 decades earlier.
 

Beyond government control

British lawmakers in the winter of 2021-2022 tried – and failed – to bolster financial reporting rules for care homes, including banning the use of government funds to pay off debt.

“I don’t have a problem with offshore companies that make profits if they offer good services. I don’t have a problem with private equity and hedge funds who deliver good returns to their shareholders,” Ros Altmann, a Conservative Party member in the House of Lords and a pension expert, said in a February debate. “I do have a problem if those companies are taking advantage of some of the most vulnerable people in our society without oversight, without controls.”

She cited Four Seasons as an example of how regulators “have no control over the financial models that are used.” Ms. Altmann warned that economic headwinds could worsen matters: “We now have very heavily debt-laden [homes] in an environment where interest rates are heading upward.”

In August, the Bank of England raised borrowing rates. It now forecasts double-digit inflation – as much as 11% – through 2023.

And that leaves care home owner Robert Kilgour pensive about whether government grasps the risks and possibilities that the sector is facing. “It’s a struggle, and it’s becoming more of a struggle,” he said. A global energy crisis is the latest unexpected emergency. Mr. Kilgour said he recently signed electricity contracts, for April 2023, at rates that will rise by 200%. That means an extra $2,400 a day in utility costs for his homes.

Mr. Kilgour founded Four Seasons, opening its first home, in Fife, Scotland, in 1989. His ambition for its growth was modest: “Ten by 2000.” That changed in 1999 when Alchemy swooped in to expand nationally. Mr. Kilgour had left Four Seasons by 2004, turning to other ventures.

Still, he saw opportunity in elder care and opened Renaissance Care, which now operates 16 homes with 750 beds in Scotland. “I missed it,” he said in an interview in London. “It’s people and it’s property, and I like that.”

“People asked me if I had any regrets about selling to private equity. Well, no, the people I dealt with were very fair, very straight. There were no shenanigans,” Mr. Kilgour said, noting that Alchemy made money but invested as well.

Mr. Kilgour said the pandemic motivated him to improve his business. He is spending millions on new LED lighting and boilers, as well as training staffers on digital record-keeping, all to winnow costs. He increased hourly wages by 5%, but employees have suggested other ways to retain staff: shorter shifts and workdays that fit school schedules or allow them to care for their own older relatives.

Debates over whether the government should move back into elder care make little sense to Mr. Kilgour. Britain has had private care for decades, and he doesn’t see that changing. Instead, operators need help balancing private and publicly funded beds “so you have a blended rate for care and some certainty in the business.”

Consolidations are slowing, he said, which might be part of a long-overdue reckoning. “The idea of 200, 300, 400 care homes – that big is good and big is best – those days are gone,” Mr. Kilgour said.

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

Prompt diagnosis of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis is essential to reduce mortality, and improving education of primary care providers can help, suggests a new white paper.

The nonspecific nature of the symptoms of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (IPF) especially in early stages, and the relative rarity of IPF compared with other conditions that have similar symptoms, may contribute to a delay in diagnosis in the primary care setting, wrote Daniel F. Dilling, MD, of Loyola University Chicago, Maywood, Ill., and colleagues in Chest: Clinical Perspectives (Dilling et al. State of Practice: Factors Driving Diagnostic Delays in Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. Chest. 2022).

“We have learned over and over again through research, and also through talking with our own patients with IPF, that there is often a long lag between the first signs of the disease and a diagnosis of IPF,” corresponding author Dr. Dilling said in an interview.

“Even some pulmonary specialists can be uncertain about how to approach the diagnosis when a CT scan or other test first suggests the possibility; this can cost a patient precious time, as being on drug therapy earlier can result in preservation of lung function,” he said. “By sounding the alarm bell with this paper, we hope to promote awareness and education/training within the primary care community as well as the pulmonary community, and also to make all of them aware of the possibility of referral to specialty ILD [interstitial lung disease] centers when desired and possible,” he added.  

The researchers conducted a pair of online surveys to inform the development of improving education on IPF among primary care providers.

In the white paper, which can be accessed online, the authors reported results of the surveys. One included 100 general pulmonologists and the other included 306 primary care physicians (156 practiced family physicians and 150 practiced general internal medicine). The data were collected between April 11, 2022, and May 16, 2022. Participants were asked to respond to a patient case scenario of a 55-year-old woman with nonspecific symptoms such as shortness of breath on moderate exertion, cough, exhaustion, and trouble sleeping.

The PCPs were most likely to evaluate the patient for a cardiac condition (46%), 25% would evaluate for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), and 23% for asthma. More than half (58%) ranked progressive fibrosing ILD as one of their bottom two diagnoses.

A total of 87% of PCPs said they would begin a diagnostic workup to evaluate symptoms if the patient had no preexisting respiratory disease, compared with 61% for patients with a respiratory diagnosis.

Although 93% of PCPs cited a chest x-ray as part of the initial patient workup, fewer than half said they would order an echocardiogram, spirometry, or pulmonary function test (PFT), and 11% said they would include diffusion capacity testing in the initial workup.

In addition, PCPs were less likely to ask patients about issues that might prompt an IPF diagnosis, such as exposures to agents through work, hobbies, the environment, or comorbidities.

In the pulmonology survey, more than 75% of respondents cited patient history, high-resolution tomography scan, serologic testing, and review for autoimmune disease symptoms as first steps in a diagnostic response to patients with suspected IPF.
 

Differences between PCPs’ and pulmonolgists’ responses

Both PCPs and pulmonologists responded to several questions to assess knowledge and opinion gaps related to IPF. Overall, pulmonologists were more likely than PCPs to cite both imaging and testing issues and waiting 6-8 weeks after symptom onset before imaging as contributing factors to diagnostic delays.

PCPs more often expressed beliefs that delayed diagnosis had little impact on a patient with IPF, and that the treatments may be worse than the disease.

Dr. Dilling said he was not surprised by the survey findings, as similar clues about the underdiagnosis of IPF have surfaced in prior studies.

“We need to get the word out to primary care physicians, to pulmonary physicians, and even to the public, that idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis and other forms of interstitial lung disease are out there and prevalent, and that making the right diagnosis in a timely way can lead to better outcomes for patients,” he said.

The take-home message for primary care is to think outside the COPD box, said Dr. Dilling. “Just because someone has shortness of breath or cough and used to smoke does not automatically mean that they have COPD,” he emphasized. “Listen carefully for crackles (rales) on exam. Get spirometry or PFTs before you secure the diagnosis of COPD, or else you will be missing all of your cases of pulmonary fibrosis; think of pulmonary fibrosis and use imaging to help guide your diagnosis,” he said.

The authors suggested several education goals for PCPs, including establishing the importance of early evaluation, outlining the correct approach to a patient workup, encouraging prompt referral, and empowering PCPs as part of the team approach to IPF patients’ care. For pulmonologists, only 11% of those surveyed said they were aware of the latest developments in antifibrotic research, and education efforts might include information about drug pipelines and clinical trials, as well as technology.

Looking ahead, “We need to better understand how to find the pulmonary fibrosis in the community,” Dr. Dilling said. This understanding may come in part from greater education and awareness, he noted. However, eventually there may be ways to enhance the reading of PFTs and of CT scans through artificial intelligence technologies that would not only prompt clinicians to recognize what they are seeing, but would prompt them to refer and send the patient on the correct diagnostic path as soon as possible, he added.
 

Key message: Include ILD in differential diagnosis of patients with shortness of breath and/or cough

Advances in diagnostics and therapies for interstitial lung disease can take time to be absorbed and adopted, and patients with ILD and pulmonologists caring for ILD, specifically IPF, continue to report delays in diagnosis and therapy, said Krishna Thavarajah, MD, a pulmonologist at Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit, Mich., in an interview.

The current study findings of the time to diagnosis and the approach to patient workups echo her own clinical experience, Dr. Thavarajah said. “There is a delay in IPF diagnosis as physicians look to more common diagnoses, such as cardiac disease or chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, prior to pursuit of additional workup, and the attitude toward treatment has, in some ways, lagged behind advances in therapy, including timing and feasibility of therapy for IPF,” she said.

The key message for primary care physicians is to include ILD in the differential diagnosis of patients with shortness of breath and/or cough, especially if the initial cardiac and pulmonary test (meaning at least a chest x-ray and pulmonary function tests, including a diffusion capacity) are not pointing to an alternative cause within 3 months of presentation, Dr. Thavarajah said.

Once IPF is diagnosed, primary care clinicians should know that there are FDA-approved therapies that improve survival, said Dr. Thavarajah. “There are identifiable and treatable comorbid conditions,” she added. “The statement of ‘time lost is lung lost’ sums up the care of an IPF patient; partnerships between primary care clinicians, pulmonologists, and referral centers can provide the patient multiple levels of support with quality-of-life interventions, treatments, and also clinical trials, delivered by a team of providers,” she said. 
In the wake of the current study, more research is needed with outcome studies regarding educational interventions targeting primary care and pulmonologists on appropriate workup, timing of workup, and current therapy for IPF patients, she added.

The white paper received no outside funding. The authors and Dr. Thavarajah had no financial conflicts to disclose.
 

Prompt diagnosis of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis is essential to reduce mortality, and improving education of primary care providers can help, suggests a new white paper.

The nonspecific nature of the symptoms of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (IPF) especially in early stages, and the relative rarity of IPF compared with other conditions that have similar symptoms, may contribute to a delay in diagnosis in the primary care setting, wrote Daniel F. Dilling, MD, of Loyola University Chicago, Maywood, Ill., and colleagues in Chest: Clinical Perspectives (Dilling et al. State of Practice: Factors Driving Diagnostic Delays in Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. Chest. 2022).

“We have learned over and over again through research, and also through talking with our own patients with IPF, that there is often a long lag between the first signs of the disease and a diagnosis of IPF,” corresponding author Dr. Dilling said in an interview.

“Even some pulmonary specialists can be uncertain about how to approach the diagnosis when a CT scan or other test first suggests the possibility; this can cost a patient precious time, as being on drug therapy earlier can result in preservation of lung function,” he said. “By sounding the alarm bell with this paper, we hope to promote awareness and education/training within the primary care community as well as the pulmonary community, and also to make all of them aware of the possibility of referral to specialty ILD [interstitial lung disease] centers when desired and possible,” he added.  

The researchers conducted a pair of online surveys to inform the development of improving education on IPF among primary care providers.

In the white paper, which can be accessed online, the authors reported results of the surveys. One included 100 general pulmonologists and the other included 306 primary care physicians (156 practiced family physicians and 150 practiced general internal medicine). The data were collected between April 11, 2022, and May 16, 2022. Participants were asked to respond to a patient case scenario of a 55-year-old woman with nonspecific symptoms such as shortness of breath on moderate exertion, cough, exhaustion, and trouble sleeping.

The PCPs were most likely to evaluate the patient for a cardiac condition (46%), 25% would evaluate for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), and 23% for asthma. More than half (58%) ranked progressive fibrosing ILD as one of their bottom two diagnoses.

A total of 87% of PCPs said they would begin a diagnostic workup to evaluate symptoms if the patient had no preexisting respiratory disease, compared with 61% for patients with a respiratory diagnosis.

Although 93% of PCPs cited a chest x-ray as part of the initial patient workup, fewer than half said they would order an echocardiogram, spirometry, or pulmonary function test (PFT), and 11% said they would include diffusion capacity testing in the initial workup.

In addition, PCPs were less likely to ask patients about issues that might prompt an IPF diagnosis, such as exposures to agents through work, hobbies, the environment, or comorbidities.

In the pulmonology survey, more than 75% of respondents cited patient history, high-resolution tomography scan, serologic testing, and review for autoimmune disease symptoms as first steps in a diagnostic response to patients with suspected IPF.
 

Differences between PCPs’ and pulmonolgists’ responses

Both PCPs and pulmonologists responded to several questions to assess knowledge and opinion gaps related to IPF. Overall, pulmonologists were more likely than PCPs to cite both imaging and testing issues and waiting 6-8 weeks after symptom onset before imaging as contributing factors to diagnostic delays.

PCPs more often expressed beliefs that delayed diagnosis had little impact on a patient with IPF, and that the treatments may be worse than the disease.

Dr. Dilling said he was not surprised by the survey findings, as similar clues about the underdiagnosis of IPF have surfaced in prior studies.

“We need to get the word out to primary care physicians, to pulmonary physicians, and even to the public, that idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis and other forms of interstitial lung disease are out there and prevalent, and that making the right diagnosis in a timely way can lead to better outcomes for patients,” he said.

The take-home message for primary care is to think outside the COPD box, said Dr. Dilling. “Just because someone has shortness of breath or cough and used to smoke does not automatically mean that they have COPD,” he emphasized. “Listen carefully for crackles (rales) on exam. Get spirometry or PFTs before you secure the diagnosis of COPD, or else you will be missing all of your cases of pulmonary fibrosis; think of pulmonary fibrosis and use imaging to help guide your diagnosis,” he said.

The authors suggested several education goals for PCPs, including establishing the importance of early evaluation, outlining the correct approach to a patient workup, encouraging prompt referral, and empowering PCPs as part of the team approach to IPF patients’ care. For pulmonologists, only 11% of those surveyed said they were aware of the latest developments in antifibrotic research, and education efforts might include information about drug pipelines and clinical trials, as well as technology.

Looking ahead, “We need to better understand how to find the pulmonary fibrosis in the community,” Dr. Dilling said. This understanding may come in part from greater education and awareness, he noted. However, eventually there may be ways to enhance the reading of PFTs and of CT scans through artificial intelligence technologies that would not only prompt clinicians to recognize what they are seeing, but would prompt them to refer and send the patient on the correct diagnostic path as soon as possible, he added.
 

Key message: Include ILD in differential diagnosis of patients with shortness of breath and/or cough

Advances in diagnostics and therapies for interstitial lung disease can take time to be absorbed and adopted, and patients with ILD and pulmonologists caring for ILD, specifically IPF, continue to report delays in diagnosis and therapy, said Krishna Thavarajah, MD, a pulmonologist at Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit, Mich., in an interview.

The current study findings of the time to diagnosis and the approach to patient workups echo her own clinical experience, Dr. Thavarajah said. “There is a delay in IPF diagnosis as physicians look to more common diagnoses, such as cardiac disease or chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, prior to pursuit of additional workup, and the attitude toward treatment has, in some ways, lagged behind advances in therapy, including timing and feasibility of therapy for IPF,” she said.

The key message for primary care physicians is to include ILD in the differential diagnosis of patients with shortness of breath and/or cough, especially if the initial cardiac and pulmonary test (meaning at least a chest x-ray and pulmonary function tests, including a diffusion capacity) are not pointing to an alternative cause within 3 months of presentation, Dr. Thavarajah said.

Once IPF is diagnosed, primary care clinicians should know that there are FDA-approved therapies that improve survival, said Dr. Thavarajah. “There are identifiable and treatable comorbid conditions,” she added. “The statement of ‘time lost is lung lost’ sums up the care of an IPF patient; partnerships between primary care clinicians, pulmonologists, and referral centers can provide the patient multiple levels of support with quality-of-life interventions, treatments, and also clinical trials, delivered by a team of providers,” she said. 
In the wake of the current study, more research is needed with outcome studies regarding educational interventions targeting primary care and pulmonologists on appropriate workup, timing of workup, and current therapy for IPF patients, she added.

The white paper received no outside funding. The authors and Dr. Thavarajah had no financial conflicts to disclose.
 

Prompt diagnosis of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis is essential to reduce mortality, and improving education of primary care providers can help, suggests a new white paper.

The nonspecific nature of the symptoms of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (IPF) especially in early stages, and the relative rarity of IPF compared with other conditions that have similar symptoms, may contribute to a delay in diagnosis in the primary care setting, wrote Daniel F. Dilling, MD, of Loyola University Chicago, Maywood, Ill., and colleagues in Chest: Clinical Perspectives (Dilling et al. State of Practice: Factors Driving Diagnostic Delays in Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. Chest. 2022).

“We have learned over and over again through research, and also through talking with our own patients with IPF, that there is often a long lag between the first signs of the disease and a diagnosis of IPF,” corresponding author Dr. Dilling said in an interview.

“Even some pulmonary specialists can be uncertain about how to approach the diagnosis when a CT scan or other test first suggests the possibility; this can cost a patient precious time, as being on drug therapy earlier can result in preservation of lung function,” he said. “By sounding the alarm bell with this paper, we hope to promote awareness and education/training within the primary care community as well as the pulmonary community, and also to make all of them aware of the possibility of referral to specialty ILD [interstitial lung disease] centers when desired and possible,” he added.  

The researchers conducted a pair of online surveys to inform the development of improving education on IPF among primary care providers.

In the white paper, which can be accessed online, the authors reported results of the surveys. One included 100 general pulmonologists and the other included 306 primary care physicians (156 practiced family physicians and 150 practiced general internal medicine). The data were collected between April 11, 2022, and May 16, 2022. Participants were asked to respond to a patient case scenario of a 55-year-old woman with nonspecific symptoms such as shortness of breath on moderate exertion, cough, exhaustion, and trouble sleeping.

The PCPs were most likely to evaluate the patient for a cardiac condition (46%), 25% would evaluate for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), and 23% for asthma. More than half (58%) ranked progressive fibrosing ILD as one of their bottom two diagnoses.

A total of 87% of PCPs said they would begin a diagnostic workup to evaluate symptoms if the patient had no preexisting respiratory disease, compared with 61% for patients with a respiratory diagnosis.

Although 93% of PCPs cited a chest x-ray as part of the initial patient workup, fewer than half said they would order an echocardiogram, spirometry, or pulmonary function test (PFT), and 11% said they would include diffusion capacity testing in the initial workup.

In addition, PCPs were less likely to ask patients about issues that might prompt an IPF diagnosis, such as exposures to agents through work, hobbies, the environment, or comorbidities.

In the pulmonology survey, more than 75% of respondents cited patient history, high-resolution tomography scan, serologic testing, and review for autoimmune disease symptoms as first steps in a diagnostic response to patients with suspected IPF.
 

Differences between PCPs’ and pulmonolgists’ responses

Both PCPs and pulmonologists responded to several questions to assess knowledge and opinion gaps related to IPF. Overall, pulmonologists were more likely than PCPs to cite both imaging and testing issues and waiting 6-8 weeks after symptom onset before imaging as contributing factors to diagnostic delays.

PCPs more often expressed beliefs that delayed diagnosis had little impact on a patient with IPF, and that the treatments may be worse than the disease.

Dr. Dilling said he was not surprised by the survey findings, as similar clues about the underdiagnosis of IPF have surfaced in prior studies.

“We need to get the word out to primary care physicians, to pulmonary physicians, and even to the public, that idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis and other forms of interstitial lung disease are out there and prevalent, and that making the right diagnosis in a timely way can lead to better outcomes for patients,” he said.

The take-home message for primary care is to think outside the COPD box, said Dr. Dilling. “Just because someone has shortness of breath or cough and used to smoke does not automatically mean that they have COPD,” he emphasized. “Listen carefully for crackles (rales) on exam. Get spirometry or PFTs before you secure the diagnosis of COPD, or else you will be missing all of your cases of pulmonary fibrosis; think of pulmonary fibrosis and use imaging to help guide your diagnosis,” he said.

The authors suggested several education goals for PCPs, including establishing the importance of early evaluation, outlining the correct approach to a patient workup, encouraging prompt referral, and empowering PCPs as part of the team approach to IPF patients’ care. For pulmonologists, only 11% of those surveyed said they were aware of the latest developments in antifibrotic research, and education efforts might include information about drug pipelines and clinical trials, as well as technology.

Looking ahead, “We need to better understand how to find the pulmonary fibrosis in the community,” Dr. Dilling said. This understanding may come in part from greater education and awareness, he noted. However, eventually there may be ways to enhance the reading of PFTs and of CT scans through artificial intelligence technologies that would not only prompt clinicians to recognize what they are seeing, but would prompt them to refer and send the patient on the correct diagnostic path as soon as possible, he added.
 

Key message: Include ILD in differential diagnosis of patients with shortness of breath and/or cough

Advances in diagnostics and therapies for interstitial lung disease can take time to be absorbed and adopted, and patients with ILD and pulmonologists caring for ILD, specifically IPF, continue to report delays in diagnosis and therapy, said Krishna Thavarajah, MD, a pulmonologist at Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit, Mich., in an interview.

The current study findings of the time to diagnosis and the approach to patient workups echo her own clinical experience, Dr. Thavarajah said. “There is a delay in IPF diagnosis as physicians look to more common diagnoses, such as cardiac disease or chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, prior to pursuit of additional workup, and the attitude toward treatment has, in some ways, lagged behind advances in therapy, including timing and feasibility of therapy for IPF,” she said.

The key message for primary care physicians is to include ILD in the differential diagnosis of patients with shortness of breath and/or cough, especially if the initial cardiac and pulmonary test (meaning at least a chest x-ray and pulmonary function tests, including a diffusion capacity) are not pointing to an alternative cause within 3 months of presentation, Dr. Thavarajah said.

Once IPF is diagnosed, primary care clinicians should know that there are FDA-approved therapies that improve survival, said Dr. Thavarajah. “There are identifiable and treatable comorbid conditions,” she added. “The statement of ‘time lost is lung lost’ sums up the care of an IPF patient; partnerships between primary care clinicians, pulmonologists, and referral centers can provide the patient multiple levels of support with quality-of-life interventions, treatments, and also clinical trials, delivered by a team of providers,” she said. 
In the wake of the current study, more research is needed with outcome studies regarding educational interventions targeting primary care and pulmonologists on appropriate workup, timing of workup, and current therapy for IPF patients, she added.

The white paper received no outside funding. The authors and Dr. Thavarajah had no financial conflicts to disclose.
 

Adding community health workers (CHW) to a primary care setting was linked with improved type 2 diabetes management in a safety-net population, new research indicates.

The researchers, led by Robert L. Ferrer, MD, MPH, with the department of family and community medicine at the University of Texas Health Science Center, San Antonio, enrolled 986 people in a Latino, inner-city cohort in primary care in San Antonio. Patients had uncontrolled type 2 diabetes and psychosocial risk factors. The study was published in Annals of Family Medicine.

The primary outcome measured was whether patients progressed through three stages of self-care: outreach (meeting face to face with a community health care worker), stabilization (collaborating with community health care workers to address life circumstances), and a third stage the researchers called “self-care generativity” (being able to manage blood sugar levels at home). The intervention lasted up to 12 weeks and had a 4-year follow-up.

Of participating patients, the researchers reported, 27% remained in outreach, 41% progressed to stabilization, 32% achieved self-care generativity status.

Coauthor Carlos Roberto Jaén, MD, PhD, also from the UT Health Science Center at San Antonio, said in an interview, “I don’t know any other intervention for diabetes that has 32% of participants having this kind of effect 4 years later.”

Dr. Jaén added that the study is unusual in that it had a 4-year follow-up and showed positive effects throughout that period, as most CHW studies have followed patients only up to one year.

The positive results over the 4 years after a short intervention “is a testimony of the power of intervention,” he said.

A1c drops with more progress in the intervention

The secondary outcome was change in hemoglobin A1c and need for urgent care or emergency department or hospital care.

Study participants who worked with a CHW – regardless of which group they were in at the end of the intervention – collectively saw a 2% drop in blood sugar.

Over a similar time period to when the study was conducted, the researchers analyzed 27,000 A1c measurements of patients with type 2 diabetes in a comparator group. For these patients, who did not receive the study intervention but were part of the same practice as those who received the intervention, the researchers observed a reduction in A1c levels of 0.05%.

Among the study participants, for those who remained in outreach, hospital visits were 6% higher than for those who advanced to the level of self-care generativity, but this difference was not statistically significant. Hospital visits were 90% higher for those who achieved stabilization versus those who remained in outreach (P = .014) The average count of emergency department visits was 74% higher for those who achieved stabilization versus those who achieved self-care generativity, and 31% higher in the group remaining at outreach versus those who reached the highest level of self-care.
 

Advantages of community workers

In San Antonio, the authors noted, type 2 diabetes prevalence is high: 15.5% of its 1.6 million residents have been diagnosed with the disease.

The CHWs built trust with patients and helped them set goals, navigate the health system and connect to community resources. They worked with behavioral health clinicians, nurse care managers, and medical assistants toward population management.

“Community health workers’ detailed understanding of patients’ circumstances help to tailor their care rather than apply fixed interventions,” the authors wrote.

Ricardo Correa, MD, director of the endocrinology, diabetes, and metabolism fellowship program in the University of Arizona, Phoenix, who was not involved with the study, said in an interview he was not surprised by the positive results.

He described the difference when CHWs get involved with type 2 diabetes care, particularly in the Latino community.

“They understand the culture, not just the language,” he said. “They have the trust of the community.”

It’s different when a provider not from the community tells a person with type 2 diabetes he or she needs to eat healthier or exercise more, he said.

The CHW can understand, for instance, that the nearest fresh market may be two towns away and open only on Saturdays and the parks are not safe for exercise outside at certain times of the day. Then they can help the patient find a sustainable solution.

“Community workers also won’t be looking at your immigration status,” something important to many in the Latino community, he explained.

Though this study looked at type 2 diabetes management, community health workers are also effective in other areas, he explained, such as increasing COVID-19 vaccinations, also do them being trustworthy and understanding.
 

Other study strengths

The group of people with type 2 diabetes they studied has the highest rates of poverty – “the poorest of the poor” – and the highest rates of diabetes-related amputations in San Antonio, Dr. Jaén said.

The intervention “is more focused on what people want to do, less so on the disease,” he explained. People are asked what goals they want to achieve and how the care team can help.

“It becomes an alliance between the community health worker and the patient,” he continued.

Others interested in implementing a program should know that building that relationship takes time and takes a broad multidisciplinary team working together, he said. “We would not necessarily see these effects in 6 months. You have to use a larger perspective.”

The researchers include with this study under the first-page tab “more online” access to tools, including resources for training, for others who want to implement such a program.

The study authors and Dr. Correa reported no relevant financial relationships.

Adding community health workers (CHW) to a primary care setting was linked with improved type 2 diabetes management in a safety-net population, new research indicates.

The researchers, led by Robert L. Ferrer, MD, MPH, with the department of family and community medicine at the University of Texas Health Science Center, San Antonio, enrolled 986 people in a Latino, inner-city cohort in primary care in San Antonio. Patients had uncontrolled type 2 diabetes and psychosocial risk factors. The study was published in Annals of Family Medicine.

The primary outcome measured was whether patients progressed through three stages of self-care: outreach (meeting face to face with a community health care worker), stabilization (collaborating with community health care workers to address life circumstances), and a third stage the researchers called “self-care generativity” (being able to manage blood sugar levels at home). The intervention lasted up to 12 weeks and had a 4-year follow-up.

Of participating patients, the researchers reported, 27% remained in outreach, 41% progressed to stabilization, 32% achieved self-care generativity status.

Coauthor Carlos Roberto Jaén, MD, PhD, also from the UT Health Science Center at San Antonio, said in an interview, “I don’t know any other intervention for diabetes that has 32% of participants having this kind of effect 4 years later.”

Dr. Jaén added that the study is unusual in that it had a 4-year follow-up and showed positive effects throughout that period, as most CHW studies have followed patients only up to one year.

The positive results over the 4 years after a short intervention “is a testimony of the power of intervention,” he said.

A1c drops with more progress in the intervention

The secondary outcome was change in hemoglobin A1c and need for urgent care or emergency department or hospital care.

Study participants who worked with a CHW – regardless of which group they were in at the end of the intervention – collectively saw a 2% drop in blood sugar.

Over a similar time period to when the study was conducted, the researchers analyzed 27,000 A1c measurements of patients with type 2 diabetes in a comparator group. For these patients, who did not receive the study intervention but were part of the same practice as those who received the intervention, the researchers observed a reduction in A1c levels of 0.05%.

Among the study participants, for those who remained in outreach, hospital visits were 6% higher than for those who advanced to the level of self-care generativity, but this difference was not statistically significant. Hospital visits were 90% higher for those who achieved stabilization versus those who remained in outreach (P = .014) The average count of emergency department visits was 74% higher for those who achieved stabilization versus those who achieved self-care generativity, and 31% higher in the group remaining at outreach versus those who reached the highest level of self-care.
 

Advantages of community workers

In San Antonio, the authors noted, type 2 diabetes prevalence is high: 15.5% of its 1.6 million residents have been diagnosed with the disease.

The CHWs built trust with patients and helped them set goals, navigate the health system and connect to community resources. They worked with behavioral health clinicians, nurse care managers, and medical assistants toward population management.

“Community health workers’ detailed understanding of patients’ circumstances help to tailor their care rather than apply fixed interventions,” the authors wrote.

Ricardo Correa, MD, director of the endocrinology, diabetes, and metabolism fellowship program in the University of Arizona, Phoenix, who was not involved with the study, said in an interview he was not surprised by the positive results.

He described the difference when CHWs get involved with type 2 diabetes care, particularly in the Latino community.

“They understand the culture, not just the language,” he said. “They have the trust of the community.”

It’s different when a provider not from the community tells a person with type 2 diabetes he or she needs to eat healthier or exercise more, he said.

The CHW can understand, for instance, that the nearest fresh market may be two towns away and open only on Saturdays and the parks are not safe for exercise outside at certain times of the day. Then they can help the patient find a sustainable solution.

“Community workers also won’t be looking at your immigration status,” something important to many in the Latino community, he explained.

Though this study looked at type 2 diabetes management, community health workers are also effective in other areas, he explained, such as increasing COVID-19 vaccinations, also do them being trustworthy and understanding.
 

Other study strengths

The group of people with type 2 diabetes they studied has the highest rates of poverty – “the poorest of the poor” – and the highest rates of diabetes-related amputations in San Antonio, Dr. Jaén said.

The intervention “is more focused on what people want to do, less so on the disease,” he explained. People are asked what goals they want to achieve and how the care team can help.

“It becomes an alliance between the community health worker and the patient,” he continued.

Others interested in implementing a program should know that building that relationship takes time and takes a broad multidisciplinary team working together, he said. “We would not necessarily see these effects in 6 months. You have to use a larger perspective.”

The researchers include with this study under the first-page tab “more online” access to tools, including resources for training, for others who want to implement such a program.

The study authors and Dr. Correa reported no relevant financial relationships.

Adding community health workers (CHW) to a primary care setting was linked with improved type 2 diabetes management in a safety-net population, new research indicates.

The researchers, led by Robert L. Ferrer, MD, MPH, with the department of family and community medicine at the University of Texas Health Science Center, San Antonio, enrolled 986 people in a Latino, inner-city cohort in primary care in San Antonio. Patients had uncontrolled type 2 diabetes and psychosocial risk factors. The study was published in Annals of Family Medicine.

The primary outcome measured was whether patients progressed through three stages of self-care: outreach (meeting face to face with a community health care worker), stabilization (collaborating with community health care workers to address life circumstances), and a third stage the researchers called “self-care generativity” (being able to manage blood sugar levels at home). The intervention lasted up to 12 weeks and had a 4-year follow-up.

Of participating patients, the researchers reported, 27% remained in outreach, 41% progressed to stabilization, 32% achieved self-care generativity status.

Coauthor Carlos Roberto Jaén, MD, PhD, also from the UT Health Science Center at San Antonio, said in an interview, “I don’t know any other intervention for diabetes that has 32% of participants having this kind of effect 4 years later.”

Dr. Jaén added that the study is unusual in that it had a 4-year follow-up and showed positive effects throughout that period, as most CHW studies have followed patients only up to one year.

The positive results over the 4 years after a short intervention “is a testimony of the power of intervention,” he said.

A1c drops with more progress in the intervention

The secondary outcome was change in hemoglobin A1c and need for urgent care or emergency department or hospital care.

Study participants who worked with a CHW – regardless of which group they were in at the end of the intervention – collectively saw a 2% drop in blood sugar.

Over a similar time period to when the study was conducted, the researchers analyzed 27,000 A1c measurements of patients with type 2 diabetes in a comparator group. For these patients, who did not receive the study intervention but were part of the same practice as those who received the intervention, the researchers observed a reduction in A1c levels of 0.05%.

Among the study participants, for those who remained in outreach, hospital visits were 6% higher than for those who advanced to the level of self-care generativity, but this difference was not statistically significant. Hospital visits were 90% higher for those who achieved stabilization versus those who remained in outreach (P = .014) The average count of emergency department visits was 74% higher for those who achieved stabilization versus those who achieved self-care generativity, and 31% higher in the group remaining at outreach versus those who reached the highest level of self-care.
 

Advantages of community workers

In San Antonio, the authors noted, type 2 diabetes prevalence is high: 15.5% of its 1.6 million residents have been diagnosed with the disease.

The CHWs built trust with patients and helped them set goals, navigate the health system and connect to community resources. They worked with behavioral health clinicians, nurse care managers, and medical assistants toward population management.

“Community health workers’ detailed understanding of patients’ circumstances help to tailor their care rather than apply fixed interventions,” the authors wrote.

Ricardo Correa, MD, director of the endocrinology, diabetes, and metabolism fellowship program in the University of Arizona, Phoenix, who was not involved with the study, said in an interview he was not surprised by the positive results.

He described the difference when CHWs get involved with type 2 diabetes care, particularly in the Latino community.

“They understand the culture, not just the language,” he said. “They have the trust of the community.”

It’s different when a provider not from the community tells a person with type 2 diabetes he or she needs to eat healthier or exercise more, he said.

The CHW can understand, for instance, that the nearest fresh market may be two towns away and open only on Saturdays and the parks are not safe for exercise outside at certain times of the day. Then they can help the patient find a sustainable solution.

“Community workers also won’t be looking at your immigration status,” something important to many in the Latino community, he explained.

Though this study looked at type 2 diabetes management, community health workers are also effective in other areas, he explained, such as increasing COVID-19 vaccinations, also do them being trustworthy and understanding.
 

Other study strengths

The group of people with type 2 diabetes they studied has the highest rates of poverty – “the poorest of the poor” – and the highest rates of diabetes-related amputations in San Antonio, Dr. Jaén said.

The intervention “is more focused on what people want to do, less so on the disease,” he explained. People are asked what goals they want to achieve and how the care team can help.

“It becomes an alliance between the community health worker and the patient,” he continued.

Others interested in implementing a program should know that building that relationship takes time and takes a broad multidisciplinary team working together, he said. “We would not necessarily see these effects in 6 months. You have to use a larger perspective.”

The researchers include with this study under the first-page tab “more online” access to tools, including resources for training, for others who want to implement such a program.

The study authors and Dr. Correa reported no relevant financial relationships.

Recently an article crossed my screen that drinking 4 cups of tea per day lowered the risk of type 2 diabetes by 17%. As these thing always seem to, it ended with a variant of “further research is needed.”

Encouraging? Sure. Definite? Nope.

That’s the trouble with a lot of research papers. They have some promise, but really nothing definite. I’ve seen plenty of articles suggesting coffee and/or tea have health benefits, though specifically on what varies, from lifespan to lowering the risk of a chronic medical condition (in this case, type 2 diabetes).

There are always numerous variables that aren’t clear. What kind of tea? Decaf or regular? Hot or iced? When you say cup, what do you mean? A lot of people, including me, probably consider anything smaller that a Starbucks grande to be for wimps.

While I can’t think of any off the top of my head, there’s probably a reasonable chance that, if I looked, I could find something that says coffee or tea are bad for you in some way, too.

Not that I’m planning on changing my already caffeinated drinking habits, which is probably the crux of these things for most of us. In a given day I have 1-2 cups of coffee and 3-4 bottles of diet green tea. Maybe 1-2 Diet Cokes in there some days. In winter more hot black tea. I’m probably a poster child for methylyxanthine toxicity.

I have no idea if all that coffee and tea are doing anything besides keeping me awake and alert for my patients. If they are, I certainly hope they’re lowering my risk of something bad.

Articles like this always get attention, and are often picked up by the general media. People love to think something so simple as drinking more tea or coffee would make a big difference in their lives. So it gets forwarded, people never read past the first paragraph or two, and don’t make it to the “further research is needed” line.

If an article ever came out refuting it, it probably wouldn’t get nearly as much press (who wants to read bad news?) and would be quickly forgotten outside of medical circles.

But the reality is that people are really looking for shortcuts. Unless you live under a rock, it’s pretty clear to both medical and lay people that such things as exercise and a healthy diet can help avoid multiple chronic health conditions. This doesn’t mean most of us, myself included, will do such faithfully. It just takes less time and effort to drink more tea than it does to go to the gym, so we want to believe.

That’s just human nature.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Recently an article crossed my screen that drinking 4 cups of tea per day lowered the risk of type 2 diabetes by 17%. As these thing always seem to, it ended with a variant of “further research is needed.”

Encouraging? Sure. Definite? Nope.

That’s the trouble with a lot of research papers. They have some promise, but really nothing definite. I’ve seen plenty of articles suggesting coffee and/or tea have health benefits, though specifically on what varies, from lifespan to lowering the risk of a chronic medical condition (in this case, type 2 diabetes).

There are always numerous variables that aren’t clear. What kind of tea? Decaf or regular? Hot or iced? When you say cup, what do you mean? A lot of people, including me, probably consider anything smaller that a Starbucks grande to be for wimps.

While I can’t think of any off the top of my head, there’s probably a reasonable chance that, if I looked, I could find something that says coffee or tea are bad for you in some way, too.

Not that I’m planning on changing my already caffeinated drinking habits, which is probably the crux of these things for most of us. In a given day I have 1-2 cups of coffee and 3-4 bottles of diet green tea. Maybe 1-2 Diet Cokes in there some days. In winter more hot black tea. I’m probably a poster child for methylyxanthine toxicity.

I have no idea if all that coffee and tea are doing anything besides keeping me awake and alert for my patients. If they are, I certainly hope they’re lowering my risk of something bad.

Articles like this always get attention, and are often picked up by the general media. People love to think something so simple as drinking more tea or coffee would make a big difference in their lives. So it gets forwarded, people never read past the first paragraph or two, and don’t make it to the “further research is needed” line.

If an article ever came out refuting it, it probably wouldn’t get nearly as much press (who wants to read bad news?) and would be quickly forgotten outside of medical circles.

But the reality is that people are really looking for shortcuts. Unless you live under a rock, it’s pretty clear to both medical and lay people that such things as exercise and a healthy diet can help avoid multiple chronic health conditions. This doesn’t mean most of us, myself included, will do such faithfully. It just takes less time and effort to drink more tea than it does to go to the gym, so we want to believe.

That’s just human nature.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Recently an article crossed my screen that drinking 4 cups of tea per day lowered the risk of type 2 diabetes by 17%. As these thing always seem to, it ended with a variant of “further research is needed.”

Encouraging? Sure. Definite? Nope.

That’s the trouble with a lot of research papers. They have some promise, but really nothing definite. I’ve seen plenty of articles suggesting coffee and/or tea have health benefits, though specifically on what varies, from lifespan to lowering the risk of a chronic medical condition (in this case, type 2 diabetes).

There are always numerous variables that aren’t clear. What kind of tea? Decaf or regular? Hot or iced? When you say cup, what do you mean? A lot of people, including me, probably consider anything smaller that a Starbucks grande to be for wimps.

While I can’t think of any off the top of my head, there’s probably a reasonable chance that, if I looked, I could find something that says coffee or tea are bad for you in some way, too.

Not that I’m planning on changing my already caffeinated drinking habits, which is probably the crux of these things for most of us. In a given day I have 1-2 cups of coffee and 3-4 bottles of diet green tea. Maybe 1-2 Diet Cokes in there some days. In winter more hot black tea. I’m probably a poster child for methylyxanthine toxicity.

I have no idea if all that coffee and tea are doing anything besides keeping me awake and alert for my patients. If they are, I certainly hope they’re lowering my risk of something bad.

Articles like this always get attention, and are often picked up by the general media. People love to think something so simple as drinking more tea or coffee would make a big difference in their lives. So it gets forwarded, people never read past the first paragraph or two, and don’t make it to the “further research is needed” line.

If an article ever came out refuting it, it probably wouldn’t get nearly as much press (who wants to read bad news?) and would be quickly forgotten outside of medical circles.

But the reality is that people are really looking for shortcuts. Unless you live under a rock, it’s pretty clear to both medical and lay people that such things as exercise and a healthy diet can help avoid multiple chronic health conditions. This doesn’t mean most of us, myself included, will do such faithfully. It just takes less time and effort to drink more tea than it does to go to the gym, so we want to believe.

That’s just human nature.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

I have a love-hate relationship with patient reviews and satisfaction scores. I love good reviews and hate bad ones. Actually, I skim good reviews and then dwell for days on the negative ones, trying to rack my brain as to what I did wrong. Like everyone else, I have off days when I’m tired or distracted or just overwhelmed. Though I try to bring my A game to every patient visit, realistically, I know that I don’t always achieve this. But, for me, the difference in my best visits and good-enough visits is the difference between a 4-star and 5-star review. What’s up with those 1-star reviews?

Many, many years ago, when patient satisfaction scores were in their infancy, our clinic rewarded any physician who got a 100% satisfaction score. On the surface that makes perfect sense – of course, our patients should be satisfied 100% of the time, right? When I asked one of the winners of this competition how he did it (I never scored 100%), he told me, “I just do whatever the patient wants me to do.” Yikes, I thought at the time. That may be the recipe for an A+ for patient satisfaction but not for quality or outcomes.

As I’ve matured in my practice, I have learned somewhat to balance the positives and the negatives, recognizing that I can’t make every patient happy with every interaction. Sometimes, I know that they are going to be unhappy, such as when I decline to refill their drug of abuse. Other times, I have to exercise my best medical judgment and hope that my explanation does not alienate the patient. After all, when I say “no” to a patient request, it is with their overall health and well-being in mind. But I would be lying if I said that I have matured to the point that I’m not bothered by a negative review or a patient choosing to take their care elsewhere.

Most of us seek and welcome feedback. Over time, I’ve learned to do this during the visit by asking “Am I giving you too much information?” or “What do you think of the plan?” or “What’s most important to you?” There are times when I conclude the visit and know that the patient is not satisfied but remain unable to ferret out where I let them down – even, on occasion, when I ask them directly. Ideally, any feedback we get from our patients, positive or negative, would be specific and actionable. It rarely is.

There is no doubt we have entered the era of consumer medicine. Everything from the physical appearance of our clinics to the response time to electronic messages is fair game in how patients judge us. As we all know, patients assume competence – they are not usually impressed by your training or quality outcomes because they already believe you are clinically competent (or arguably they’d never set foot in your office). Instead of judging us how we often judge ourselves, patients form opinions about us by how we enter the room, whether we sit or stand, how long they wait in the exam room before we come in, or whether they like the nurse with whom we work. So many subtle things – many of which are outside of our control.

I often struggle with staying on time. When I am invariably walking into the room late, I make a point of thanking patients for their patience. When I’m very late, I offer a more detailed, HIPAA-compliant explanation. What I wish my patients saw was that I am often accommodating a patient who arrives late for their appointment or who wants me to address every concern they’ve had for the past 5 years. While I aspire to not allow the patient’s perception of the visit to unduly influence how I handle the visit, it inevitably does. I do want to have patients who are happy with their experience.

One of my friends is enviously pragmatic in her view on patient experience. “I’m not their friend and they don’t have to like me.” She emphasizes the clinical care she is providing and does not allow patients who are upset with some aspect of the care to weigh heavy on her. It may be that specialists are more likely to enjoy the luxury of putting aside how patients feel about them personally. In primary care, the patient-physician relationship is so central to what we do that ignoring your “likability” has the potential to threaten your professional viability.

I conclude this blog much like I started it. My desire is to allow the negative reviews, particularly if they have nothing actionable in them, to roll off my back and to keep my focus on the clinical care that I am providing. In actuality, I care deeply about how my patients experience their visit with me and will likely continue to take my reviews to heart.

Dr. Frank is a family physician in Neenah, Wisc. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I have a love-hate relationship with patient reviews and satisfaction scores. I love good reviews and hate bad ones. Actually, I skim good reviews and then dwell for days on the negative ones, trying to rack my brain as to what I did wrong. Like everyone else, I have off days when I’m tired or distracted or just overwhelmed. Though I try to bring my A game to every patient visit, realistically, I know that I don’t always achieve this. But, for me, the difference in my best visits and good-enough visits is the difference between a 4-star and 5-star review. What’s up with those 1-star reviews?

Many, many years ago, when patient satisfaction scores were in their infancy, our clinic rewarded any physician who got a 100% satisfaction score. On the surface that makes perfect sense – of course, our patients should be satisfied 100% of the time, right? When I asked one of the winners of this competition how he did it (I never scored 100%), he told me, “I just do whatever the patient wants me to do.” Yikes, I thought at the time. That may be the recipe for an A+ for patient satisfaction but not for quality or outcomes.

As I’ve matured in my practice, I have learned somewhat to balance the positives and the negatives, recognizing that I can’t make every patient happy with every interaction. Sometimes, I know that they are going to be unhappy, such as when I decline to refill their drug of abuse. Other times, I have to exercise my best medical judgment and hope that my explanation does not alienate the patient. After all, when I say “no” to a patient request, it is with their overall health and well-being in mind. But I would be lying if I said that I have matured to the point that I’m not bothered by a negative review or a patient choosing to take their care elsewhere.

Most of us seek and welcome feedback. Over time, I’ve learned to do this during the visit by asking “Am I giving you too much information?” or “What do you think of the plan?” or “What’s most important to you?” There are times when I conclude the visit and know that the patient is not satisfied but remain unable to ferret out where I let them down – even, on occasion, when I ask them directly. Ideally, any feedback we get from our patients, positive or negative, would be specific and actionable. It rarely is.

There is no doubt we have entered the era of consumer medicine. Everything from the physical appearance of our clinics to the response time to electronic messages is fair game in how patients judge us. As we all know, patients assume competence – they are not usually impressed by your training or quality outcomes because they already believe you are clinically competent (or arguably they’d never set foot in your office). Instead of judging us how we often judge ourselves, patients form opinions about us by how we enter the room, whether we sit or stand, how long they wait in the exam room before we come in, or whether they like the nurse with whom we work. So many subtle things – many of which are outside of our control.

I often struggle with staying on time. When I am invariably walking into the room late, I make a point of thanking patients for their patience. When I’m very late, I offer a more detailed, HIPAA-compliant explanation. What I wish my patients saw was that I am often accommodating a patient who arrives late for their appointment or who wants me to address every concern they’ve had for the past 5 years. While I aspire to not allow the patient’s perception of the visit to unduly influence how I handle the visit, it inevitably does. I do want to have patients who are happy with their experience.

One of my friends is enviously pragmatic in her view on patient experience. “I’m not their friend and they don’t have to like me.” She emphasizes the clinical care she is providing and does not allow patients who are upset with some aspect of the care to weigh heavy on her. It may be that specialists are more likely to enjoy the luxury of putting aside how patients feel about them personally. In primary care, the patient-physician relationship is so central to what we do that ignoring your “likability” has the potential to threaten your professional viability.

I conclude this blog much like I started it. My desire is to allow the negative reviews, particularly if they have nothing actionable in them, to roll off my back and to keep my focus on the clinical care that I am providing. In actuality, I care deeply about how my patients experience their visit with me and will likely continue to take my reviews to heart.

Dr. Frank is a family physician in Neenah, Wisc. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I have a love-hate relationship with patient reviews and satisfaction scores. I love good reviews and hate bad ones. Actually, I skim good reviews and then dwell for days on the negative ones, trying to rack my brain as to what I did wrong. Like everyone else, I have off days when I’m tired or distracted or just overwhelmed. Though I try to bring my A game to every patient visit, realistically, I know that I don’t always achieve this. But, for me, the difference in my best visits and good-enough visits is the difference between a 4-star and 5-star review. What’s up with those 1-star reviews?

Many, many years ago, when patient satisfaction scores were in their infancy, our clinic rewarded any physician who got a 100% satisfaction score. On the surface that makes perfect sense – of course, our patients should be satisfied 100% of the time, right? When I asked one of the winners of this competition how he did it (I never scored 100%), he told me, “I just do whatever the patient wants me to do.” Yikes, I thought at the time. That may be the recipe for an A+ for patient satisfaction but not for quality or outcomes.

As I’ve matured in my practice, I have learned somewhat to balance the positives and the negatives, recognizing that I can’t make every patient happy with every interaction. Sometimes, I know that they are going to be unhappy, such as when I decline to refill their drug of abuse. Other times, I have to exercise my best medical judgment and hope that my explanation does not alienate the patient. After all, when I say “no” to a patient request, it is with their overall health and well-being in mind. But I would be lying if I said that I have matured to the point that I’m not bothered by a negative review or a patient choosing to take their care elsewhere.

Most of us seek and welcome feedback. Over time, I’ve learned to do this during the visit by asking “Am I giving you too much information?” or “What do you think of the plan?” or “What’s most important to you?” There are times when I conclude the visit and know that the patient is not satisfied but remain unable to ferret out where I let them down – even, on occasion, when I ask them directly. Ideally, any feedback we get from our patients, positive or negative, would be specific and actionable. It rarely is.

There is no doubt we have entered the era of consumer medicine. Everything from the physical appearance of our clinics to the response time to electronic messages is fair game in how patients judge us. As we all know, patients assume competence – they are not usually impressed by your training or quality outcomes because they already believe you are clinically competent (or arguably they’d never set foot in your office). Instead of judging us how we often judge ourselves, patients form opinions about us by how we enter the room, whether we sit or stand, how long they wait in the exam room before we come in, or whether they like the nurse with whom we work. So many subtle things – many of which are outside of our control.

I often struggle with staying on time. When I am invariably walking into the room late, I make a point of thanking patients for their patience. When I’m very late, I offer a more detailed, HIPAA-compliant explanation. What I wish my patients saw was that I am often accommodating a patient who arrives late for their appointment or who wants me to address every concern they’ve had for the past 5 years. While I aspire to not allow the patient’s perception of the visit to unduly influence how I handle the visit, it inevitably does. I do want to have patients who are happy with their experience.

One of my friends is enviously pragmatic in her view on patient experience. “I’m not their friend and they don’t have to like me.” She emphasizes the clinical care she is providing and does not allow patients who are upset with some aspect of the care to weigh heavy on her. It may be that specialists are more likely to enjoy the luxury of putting aside how patients feel about them personally. In primary care, the patient-physician relationship is so central to what we do that ignoring your “likability” has the potential to threaten your professional viability.

I conclude this blog much like I started it. My desire is to allow the negative reviews, particularly if they have nothing actionable in them, to roll off my back and to keep my focus on the clinical care that I am providing. In actuality, I care deeply about how my patients experience their visit with me and will likely continue to take my reviews to heart.

Dr. Frank is a family physician in Neenah, Wisc. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A Kentucky clinic and one of its treating physicians are potentially on the hook for a multimillion-dollar judgment 9 years after a patient suffered serious complications following hernia surgery, reports a story in the Bowling Green Daily News.

On May 31, 2013, Alice Duff went to Graves-Gilbert Clinic, a multispecialty group whose main campus is in Bowling Green, for hernia surgery. Her surgeon for the procedure at a nearby facility was Tage Haase, MD, a member of the clinic.

Originally, Mrs. Duff was expected to remain in the facility for 23 hours following the procedure. But her recovery didn’t proceed as expected, and that initial period was extended by roughly 3 days. During this time, Ms. Duff’s husband, Lloyd, allegedly requested multiple times that doctors order a CT scan for his wife.

Ten days after the procedure, and with Ms. Duff out of the hospital, the Duffs successfully urged their family physician to order a CT scan. It showed large amounts of free air in Alice’s abdomen, a condition that’s known as pneumoperitoneum.

On June 10, 2013, Mrs. Duff underwent a second surgery, during which doctors discovered that she had sustained a perforated bowel during the first procedure. As a result, her bowel contents had spilled into her abdomen, causing an infection that required an extended hospital stay and five additional surgeries. The infection also led to retinal damage that has left her legally blind.

In their claim against Graves-Gilbert and Dr. Haase, the Duffs argued that Dr. Haase and an assistant doctor who was not named in the suit had failed to meet the standard of care. Specifically, argued the Duffs, because bowel perforation is a known complication in hernia surgeries, Dr. Haase was negligent in not diagnosing and treating Ms. Duff’s problem earlier.

For their part, Graves-Gilbert and Dr. Haase maintained that there was no indication before the second surgery that Mrs. Duff was demonstrating symptoms that necessitated a follow-up procedure. Dr. Haase further argued that Mrs. Duff’s bowel perforation was probably caused by the sawblade-like effect of the suture material he had used to close her incision.

The jury didn’t see it this way, however. It awarded approximately $1.3 million to Mrs. Duff for past medical expenses, plus another $12 million for pain and suffering. Her husband, Lloyd, received an additional $8 million in damages.

The attorney representing the clinic and Dr. Haase has vowed to pursue “all available remedies to have the verdict vacated and the case set for a new trial.”
 

Case hinged on proper use of a ‘power morcellator’

A claim for punitive damages has been thrown out against a New Jersey doctor and the hospital he’s affiliated with, in a ruling that could help to clarify the standards for such damages in medical malpractice cases, according to a story first reported on NorthJersey.com.

In October 2014, Howard H. Jones, MD, director of minimally invasive gynecologic surgery at The Valley Hospital, in Ridgewood, N.J., treated a patient from nearby Nyack, N.Y., for uterine fibroid tumors. As part of that treatment at the hospital, Dr. Jones used a “laparoscopic power morcellator,” which during a myomectomy procedure cuts, or morcellates, fibroid tumors into pieces small enough to be removed through an incision that’s generally 2 cm or fewer.

While use of the device offers doctors an alternative to open surgery and its longer recovery times, it also risks spreading previously undiagnosed cancer cells throughout the abdomen, thereby shortening a patient’s life. Because of this risk, which has given rise to a number of malpractice cases around the country, the Food and Drug Administration issued a draft guidance in the spring of 2022 for the use of power morcellators.

One recommendation is that physicians employ a “compatible” containment system to catch morcellated tissue, including any with cancer cells. Another is that the device be used selectively, which is to say on patients who have a minimal cancer risk and who have been informed of the procedure’s possible side effects beforehand.

Within a month of the procedure, the patient was diagnosed with metastatic leiomyosarcoma and died in September 2015. Following her death, her sister, the executor of her estate, sued both The Valley Hospital and Dr. Jones. In her suit, the sister argued that the defendants knew, or should have known, the risks involved in using a power morcellator because of both an earlier (2014) FDA “safety communication” discouraging the use of the device and the death of another of Dr. Jones’ patients following a similar procedure the year before.

The suit further alleged that, even after the FDA had issued its safety caution, the hospital had used the device on 37 other patients, “without informing them of the [FDA] letter or obtaining their informed consent to use the device.”

In light of these alleged lapses, Mirian Rivera, the patient’s sister, sought both compensatory and punitive damages. Historically, punitive damages have been limited to the small number of med-mal cases where a doctor or hospital has been found to have acted with actual malice or “wanton and willful disregard.”

Both Valley and Dr. Jones strongly disagreed with Ms. Rivera’s claim, arguing that prior to the procedure Dr. Jones had in fact met with the patient several times and had conducted the proper cancer-detecting tests. Moreover, the defendants emphasized, the request for punitive damages in the absence of actual malice or other factors would almost certainly establish a dangerous legal precedent. Several industry groups – including the American Medical Association, the Medical Society of New Jersey, and the New Jersey Hospital Association – agreed and filed friend-of-court briefs in support of Valley Hospital and Dr. Jones.

But two lower courts refused to dismiss the plaintiff’s claims for punitive damages. That’s when attorneys for Valley and Dr. Jones appealed to the New Jersey Supreme Court. (Claims against the device manufacturer, a German company, had already been resolved.)

Ruling unanimously, the high court sided with the defendants: “As a matter of law, the evidence presented, even affording plaintiffs all favorable inferences, does not establish that defendants’ acts or omissions were motivated by actual malice or accompanied by wanton and willful disregard for the patient’s health and safety.”

The court also found that Valley had in fact reviewed hospital policy and drafted a patient-consent form after the release of the 2014 FDA safety communication on power morcellators. (The consent form had not been adopted before the surgery in question, however.)

The suit will now go back to Superior Court in Bergen County, New Jersey; unless a settlement is reached beforehand, the jury will weigh claims of negligence and compensatory damages.

At press time, no trial date had been set.
 

Will med-mal cases get tougher to defend in this state?

Late in August, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court reversed its own longstanding rule that required that medical malpractice cases be filed in the county where the alleged injury occurred, as an Associated Press story on NBCPhiladelphia.com, among other news sites, reports.

More than 2 decades ago, in response to what was then seen as a crisis in the med-mal system, the state legislature overwhelmingly passed MCARE (the Medical Care Availability and Reduction of Error Fund), which among other things restricted the venue of medical suits. The legislation was signed into law in March 2002 by then-Gov. Mark Schweiker.

The following year, the state’s high court adopted a similar venue rule.

Over the years, doctor and hospital groups have been big supporters of the rule, arguing that any attempt to shift cases back to allegedly more plaintiff-friendly courts in Philadelphia and other cities would likely retrigger a crisis of higher med-mal premiums, doctor flight, and worse health care.

But a 2020 report by Pennsylvania’s nonpartisan Legislative Budget and Finance Committee took issue with these conclusions. It said that, following a national trend, the cost of medical professional liability insurance had fallen in the state since 2007. The report concluded that nothing in the available data supports the “conclusion that changes in the availability, cost, and affordability of medical professional liability insurance are the result of changes in Pennsylvania law.”

A more recent report by the high court’s Civil Procedural Rules Committee reached a similar conclusion, noting that med-mal cases should be subject to the same rules as any other type of civil litigation. A majority of the high court agreed.

Predictably, this decision sits well with patient groups and officials representing trial attorneys in the Keystone State.

“Cases should be heard before 12 jurors that do not have a connection to a hospital or surgical center that is often times the largest employer in the county,” said Kila Baldwin, president of the Pennsylvania Association for Justice. “The new rule levels the playing field and will improve access to justice for all Pennsylvanians.”

Doctors, hospitals, and other health care providers, however, have predicted a “ruinous path” ahead.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A Kentucky clinic and one of its treating physicians are potentially on the hook for a multimillion-dollar judgment 9 years after a patient suffered serious complications following hernia surgery, reports a story in the Bowling Green Daily News.

On May 31, 2013, Alice Duff went to Graves-Gilbert Clinic, a multispecialty group whose main campus is in Bowling Green, for hernia surgery. Her surgeon for the procedure at a nearby facility was Tage Haase, MD, a member of the clinic.

Originally, Mrs. Duff was expected to remain in the facility for 23 hours following the procedure. But her recovery didn’t proceed as expected, and that initial period was extended by roughly 3 days. During this time, Ms. Duff’s husband, Lloyd, allegedly requested multiple times that doctors order a CT scan for his wife.

Ten days after the procedure, and with Ms. Duff out of the hospital, the Duffs successfully urged their family physician to order a CT scan. It showed large amounts of free air in Alice’s abdomen, a condition that’s known as pneumoperitoneum.

On June 10, 2013, Mrs. Duff underwent a second surgery, during which doctors discovered that she had sustained a perforated bowel during the first procedure. As a result, her bowel contents had spilled into her abdomen, causing an infection that required an extended hospital stay and five additional surgeries. The infection also led to retinal damage that has left her legally blind.

In their claim against Graves-Gilbert and Dr. Haase, the Duffs argued that Dr. Haase and an assistant doctor who was not named in the suit had failed to meet the standard of care. Specifically, argued the Duffs, because bowel perforation is a known complication in hernia surgeries, Dr. Haase was negligent in not diagnosing and treating Ms. Duff’s problem earlier.

For their part, Graves-Gilbert and Dr. Haase maintained that there was no indication before the second surgery that Mrs. Duff was demonstrating symptoms that necessitated a follow-up procedure. Dr. Haase further argued that Mrs. Duff’s bowel perforation was probably caused by the sawblade-like effect of the suture material he had used to close her incision.

The jury didn’t see it this way, however. It awarded approximately $1.3 million to Mrs. Duff for past medical expenses, plus another $12 million for pain and suffering. Her husband, Lloyd, received an additional $8 million in damages.

The attorney representing the clinic and Dr. Haase has vowed to pursue “all available remedies to have the verdict vacated and the case set for a new trial.”
 

Case hinged on proper use of a ‘power morcellator’

A claim for punitive damages has been thrown out against a New Jersey doctor and the hospital he’s affiliated with, in a ruling that could help to clarify the standards for such damages in medical malpractice cases, according to a story first reported on NorthJersey.com.

In October 2014, Howard H. Jones, MD, director of minimally invasive gynecologic surgery at The Valley Hospital, in Ridgewood, N.J., treated a patient from nearby Nyack, N.Y., for uterine fibroid tumors. As part of that treatment at the hospital, Dr. Jones used a “laparoscopic power morcellator,” which during a myomectomy procedure cuts, or morcellates, fibroid tumors into pieces small enough to be removed through an incision that’s generally 2 cm or fewer.

While use of the device offers doctors an alternative to open surgery and its longer recovery times, it also risks spreading previously undiagnosed cancer cells throughout the abdomen, thereby shortening a patient’s life. Because of this risk, which has given rise to a number of malpractice cases around the country, the Food and Drug Administration issued a draft guidance in the spring of 2022 for the use of power morcellators.

One recommendation is that physicians employ a “compatible” containment system to catch morcellated tissue, including any with cancer cells. Another is that the device be used selectively, which is to say on patients who have a minimal cancer risk and who have been informed of the procedure’s possible side effects beforehand.

Within a month of the procedure, the patient was diagnosed with metastatic leiomyosarcoma and died in September 2015. Following her death, her sister, the executor of her estate, sued both The Valley Hospital and Dr. Jones. In her suit, the sister argued that the defendants knew, or should have known, the risks involved in using a power morcellator because of both an earlier (2014) FDA “safety communication” discouraging the use of the device and the death of another of Dr. Jones’ patients following a similar procedure the year before.

The suit further alleged that, even after the FDA had issued its safety caution, the hospital had used the device on 37 other patients, “without informing them of the [FDA] letter or obtaining their informed consent to use the device.”

In light of these alleged lapses, Mirian Rivera, the patient’s sister, sought both compensatory and punitive damages. Historically, punitive damages have been limited to the small number of med-mal cases where a doctor or hospital has been found to have acted with actual malice or “wanton and willful disregard.”

Both Valley and Dr. Jones strongly disagreed with Ms. Rivera’s claim, arguing that prior to the procedure Dr. Jones had in fact met with the patient several times and had conducted the proper cancer-detecting tests. Moreover, the defendants emphasized, the request for punitive damages in the absence of actual malice or other factors would almost certainly establish a dangerous legal precedent. Several industry groups – including the American Medical Association, the Medical Society of New Jersey, and the New Jersey Hospital Association – agreed and filed friend-of-court briefs in support of Valley Hospital and Dr. Jones.

But two lower courts refused to dismiss the plaintiff’s claims for punitive damages. That’s when attorneys for Valley and Dr. Jones appealed to the New Jersey Supreme Court. (Claims against the device manufacturer, a German company, had already been resolved.)

Ruling unanimously, the high court sided with the defendants: “As a matter of law, the evidence presented, even affording plaintiffs all favorable inferences, does not establish that defendants’ acts or omissions were motivated by actual malice or accompanied by wanton and willful disregard for the patient’s health and safety.”

The court also found that Valley had in fact reviewed hospital policy and drafted a patient-consent form after the release of the 2014 FDA safety communication on power morcellators. (The consent form had not been adopted before the surgery in question, however.)

The suit will now go back to Superior Court in Bergen County, New Jersey; unless a settlement is reached beforehand, the jury will weigh claims of negligence and compensatory damages.

At press time, no trial date had been set.
 

Will med-mal cases get tougher to defend in this state?

Late in August, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court reversed its own longstanding rule that required that medical malpractice cases be filed in the county where the alleged injury occurred, as an Associated Press story on NBCPhiladelphia.com, among other news sites, reports.

More than 2 decades ago, in response to what was then seen as a crisis in the med-mal system, the state legislature overwhelmingly passed MCARE (the Medical Care Availability and Reduction of Error Fund), which among other things restricted the venue of medical suits. The legislation was signed into law in March 2002 by then-Gov. Mark Schweiker.

The following year, the state’s high court adopted a similar venue rule.

Over the years, doctor and hospital groups have been big supporters of the rule, arguing that any attempt to shift cases back to allegedly more plaintiff-friendly courts in Philadelphia and other cities would likely retrigger a crisis of higher med-mal premiums, doctor flight, and worse health care.

But a 2020 report by Pennsylvania’s nonpartisan Legislative Budget and Finance Committee took issue with these conclusions. It said that, following a national trend, the cost of medical professional liability insurance had fallen in the state since 2007. The report concluded that nothing in the available data supports the “conclusion that changes in the availability, cost, and affordability of medical professional liability insurance are the result of changes in Pennsylvania law.”

A more recent report by the high court’s Civil Procedural Rules Committee reached a similar conclusion, noting that med-mal cases should be subject to the same rules as any other type of civil litigation. A majority of the high court agreed.

Predictably, this decision sits well with patient groups and officials representing trial attorneys in the Keystone State.

“Cases should be heard before 12 jurors that do not have a connection to a hospital or surgical center that is often times the largest employer in the county,” said Kila Baldwin, president of the Pennsylvania Association for Justice. “The new rule levels the playing field and will improve access to justice for all Pennsylvanians.”

Doctors, hospitals, and other health care providers, however, have predicted a “ruinous path” ahead.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A Kentucky clinic and one of its treating physicians are potentially on the hook for a multimillion-dollar judgment 9 years after a patient suffered serious complications following hernia surgery, reports a story in the Bowling Green Daily News.

On May 31, 2013, Alice Duff went to Graves-Gilbert Clinic, a multispecialty group whose main campus is in Bowling Green, for hernia surgery. Her surgeon for the procedure at a nearby facility was Tage Haase, MD, a member of the clinic.

Originally, Mrs. Duff was expected to remain in the facility for 23 hours following the procedure. But her recovery didn’t proceed as expected, and that initial period was extended by roughly 3 days. During this time, Ms. Duff’s husband, Lloyd, allegedly requested multiple times that doctors order a CT scan for his wife.

Ten days after the procedure, and with Ms. Duff out of the hospital, the Duffs successfully urged their family physician to order a CT scan. It showed large amounts of free air in Alice’s abdomen, a condition that’s known as pneumoperitoneum.

On June 10, 2013, Mrs. Duff underwent a second surgery, during which doctors discovered that she had sustained a perforated bowel during the first procedure. As a result, her bowel contents had spilled into her abdomen, causing an infection that required an extended hospital stay and five additional surgeries. The infection also led to retinal damage that has left her legally blind.

In their claim against Graves-Gilbert and Dr. Haase, the Duffs argued that Dr. Haase and an assistant doctor who was not named in the suit had failed to meet the standard of care. Specifically, argued the Duffs, because bowel perforation is a known complication in hernia surgeries, Dr. Haase was negligent in not diagnosing and treating Ms. Duff’s problem earlier.

For their part, Graves-Gilbert and Dr. Haase maintained that there was no indication before the second surgery that Mrs. Duff was demonstrating symptoms that necessitated a follow-up procedure. Dr. Haase further argued that Mrs. Duff’s bowel perforation was probably caused by the sawblade-like effect of the suture material he had used to close her incision.

The jury didn’t see it this way, however. It awarded approximately $1.3 million to Mrs. Duff for past medical expenses, plus another $12 million for pain and suffering. Her husband, Lloyd, received an additional $8 million in damages.

The attorney representing the clinic and Dr. Haase has vowed to pursue “all available remedies to have the verdict vacated and the case set for a new trial.”
 

Case hinged on proper use of a ‘power morcellator’

A claim for punitive damages has been thrown out against a New Jersey doctor and the hospital he’s affiliated with, in a ruling that could help to clarify the standards for such damages in medical malpractice cases, according to a story first reported on NorthJersey.com.

In October 2014, Howard H. Jones, MD, director of minimally invasive gynecologic surgery at The Valley Hospital, in Ridgewood, N.J., treated a patient from nearby Nyack, N.Y., for uterine fibroid tumors. As part of that treatment at the hospital, Dr. Jones used a “laparoscopic power morcellator,” which during a myomectomy procedure cuts, or morcellates, fibroid tumors into pieces small enough to be removed through an incision that’s generally 2 cm or fewer.

While use of the device offers doctors an alternative to open surgery and its longer recovery times, it also risks spreading previously undiagnosed cancer cells throughout the abdomen, thereby shortening a patient’s life. Because of this risk, which has given rise to a number of malpractice cases around the country, the Food and Drug Administration issued a draft guidance in the spring of 2022 for the use of power morcellators.

One recommendation is that physicians employ a “compatible” containment system to catch morcellated tissue, including any with cancer cells. Another is that the device be used selectively, which is to say on patients who have a minimal cancer risk and who have been informed of the procedure’s possible side effects beforehand.

Within a month of the procedure, the patient was diagnosed with metastatic leiomyosarcoma and died in September 2015. Following her death, her sister, the executor of her estate, sued both The Valley Hospital and Dr. Jones. In her suit, the sister argued that the defendants knew, or should have known, the risks involved in using a power morcellator because of both an earlier (2014) FDA “safety communication” discouraging the use of the device and the death of another of Dr. Jones’ patients following a similar procedure the year before.

The suit further alleged that, even after the FDA had issued its safety caution, the hospital had used the device on 37 other patients, “without informing them of the [FDA] letter or obtaining their informed consent to use the device.”

In light of these alleged lapses, Mirian Rivera, the patient’s sister, sought both compensatory and punitive damages. Historically, punitive damages have been limited to the small number of med-mal cases where a doctor or hospital has been found to have acted with actual malice or “wanton and willful disregard.”

Both Valley and Dr. Jones strongly disagreed with Ms. Rivera’s claim, arguing that prior to the procedure Dr. Jones had in fact met with the patient several times and had conducted the proper cancer-detecting tests. Moreover, the defendants emphasized, the request for punitive damages in the absence of actual malice or other factors would almost certainly establish a dangerous legal precedent. Several industry groups – including the American Medical Association, the Medical Society of New Jersey, and the New Jersey Hospital Association – agreed and filed friend-of-court briefs in support of Valley Hospital and Dr. Jones.

But two lower courts refused to dismiss the plaintiff’s claims for punitive damages. That’s when attorneys for Valley and Dr. Jones appealed to the New Jersey Supreme Court. (Claims against the device manufacturer, a German company, had already been resolved.)

Ruling unanimously, the high court sided with the defendants: “As a matter of law, the evidence presented, even affording plaintiffs all favorable inferences, does not establish that defendants’ acts or omissions were motivated by actual malice or accompanied by wanton and willful disregard for the patient’s health and safety.”

The court also found that Valley had in fact reviewed hospital policy and drafted a patient-consent form after the release of the 2014 FDA safety communication on power morcellators. (The consent form had not been adopted before the surgery in question, however.)

The suit will now go back to Superior Court in Bergen County, New Jersey; unless a settlement is reached beforehand, the jury will weigh claims of negligence and compensatory damages.

At press time, no trial date had been set.
 

Will med-mal cases get tougher to defend in this state?

Late in August, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court reversed its own longstanding rule that required that medical malpractice cases be filed in the county where the alleged injury occurred, as an Associated Press story on NBCPhiladelphia.com, among other news sites, reports.

More than 2 decades ago, in response to what was then seen as a crisis in the med-mal system, the state legislature overwhelmingly passed MCARE (the Medical Care Availability and Reduction of Error Fund), which among other things restricted the venue of medical suits. The legislation was signed into law in March 2002 by then-Gov. Mark Schweiker.

The following year, the state’s high court adopted a similar venue rule.

Over the years, doctor and hospital groups have been big supporters of the rule, arguing that any attempt to shift cases back to allegedly more plaintiff-friendly courts in Philadelphia and other cities would likely retrigger a crisis of higher med-mal premiums, doctor flight, and worse health care.

But a 2020 report by Pennsylvania’s nonpartisan Legislative Budget and Finance Committee took issue with these conclusions. It said that, following a national trend, the cost of medical professional liability insurance had fallen in the state since 2007. The report concluded that nothing in the available data supports the “conclusion that changes in the availability, cost, and affordability of medical professional liability insurance are the result of changes in Pennsylvania law.”

A more recent report by the high court’s Civil Procedural Rules Committee reached a similar conclusion, noting that med-mal cases should be subject to the same rules as any other type of civil litigation. A majority of the high court agreed.

Predictably, this decision sits well with patient groups and officials representing trial attorneys in the Keystone State.

“Cases should be heard before 12 jurors that do not have a connection to a hospital or surgical center that is often times the largest employer in the county,” said Kila Baldwin, president of the Pennsylvania Association for Justice. “The new rule levels the playing field and will improve access to justice for all Pennsylvanians.”

Doctors, hospitals, and other health care providers, however, have predicted a “ruinous path” ahead.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

When Sue W’s mother died in 2018, she struggled terribly. She was already seeing a psychotherapist and was taking duloxetine, prescribed by her primary care physician. But her grief was profound, and her depression became paralyzing. She needed to see a psychiatrist, and there were many available in or near her hometown, a Connecticut suburb of New York City, but neither Sue, her therapist, nor her primary care doctor could find a psychiatrist who participated with her insurance. Finally, she was given the name of a psychiatrist in Manhattan who practiced online, and she made an appointment on the Skypiatrist (a telepsychiatry group founded in 2016) website.

“I hesitated about it at first,” Sue said. “The doctor was nice, and I liked the convenience. Appointments were 15 minutes long, although the first session was longer. He focused on the medications, which was okay because I already have a therapist. And it was really easy. I made appointments on their website and I saw the doctor through the same site, and I really liked that I could send him messages.” The psychiatrist was responsive when Sue had trouble coming off duloxetine, and he gave her instructions for a slower taper. The treatment was affordable and accessible, and she got better.

Psychiatry has a problem: The demand for services is far greater than what we can accommodate. This has opened a door for both for nonphysician prescribers and online companies to step in and fill a need that local, office-based psychiatrists can’t meet. When you also consider that many private-practice psychiatrists do not participate with insurance panels, online companies that do accept insurance may add value, convenience, and access. 

Cerebral, the largest online psychiatric service in the country, began seeing patients in January 2020, offering medications and psychotherapy. They participate with a number of commercial insurers, and this varies by state, but not with Medicaid or Medicare. Patients pay a monthly fee, and an initial 30-minute medication evaluation session is conducted, often with a nurse practitioner. They advertise wait times of less than 7 days.

Another company, Done, offers treatment specifically for ADHD. They don’t accept insurance for appointments; patients must submit their own claims for reimbursement. Their pricing structure involves a fee of $199 for the first month, then $79 a month thereafter, which does not include medications. Hims – another online company – targets men with a variety of health issues, including mental health problems.

Some of these internet companies have been in the news recently for concerns related to quality of care and prescribing practices. A The Wall Street Journal article of March 26, 2022, quoted clinicians who had previously worked for Cerebral and Done who left because they felt pressured to see patients quickly and to prescribe stimulants. Not all of the prescribers were unhappy, however. Yina Cruz-Harris, a nurse practitioner at Done who has a doctorate in nursing practice, said that she manages 2,300 patients with ADHD for Done. Virtually all are on stimulants. She renews each patient’s monthly prescription from her New Jersey home, based mostly on online forms filled out by the patients. She’s fast, doing two renewals per minute, and Done pays her almost $10 per patient, working out to around $20,000 in monthly earnings.

In May, the Department of Justice began looking into Cerebral’s practices around controlled substances and more recently, Cerebral has been in the news for complaints from patients that they have been unable to reach their prescribers when problems arise. Some pharmacy chains have refused to fill prescriptions for controlled medications from online telehealth providers, and some online providers, including Cerebral, are no longer prescribing controlled substances. A front-page The Wall Street Journal article on Aug. 19, 2022, told the story of a man with a history of addiction who was prescribed stimulants after a brief appointment with a prescriber at Done. Family and friends in his sober house believe that the stimulants triggered a relapse, and he died of an opioid overdose.

During the early days of the pandemic, nonemergency psychiatric care was shut down and we all became virtual psychiatrists. Many of us saw new patients and prescribed controlled medications to people we had never met in real life.

“John Brown,” MD, PhD, spoke with me on the condition that I don’t use his real name or the name of the practice he left. He was hired by a traditional group practice with a multidisciplinary staff and several offices in his state. Most of the clinicians worked part time and were contractual employees, and Dr. Brown was hired to develop a specialty service. He soon learned that the practice – which participates with a number of insurance plans – was not financially stable, and it was acquired by an investment firm with no medical experience.

“They wanted everyone to work 40-hour weeks and see 14 patients a day, including 3-4 new patients, and suddenly everyone was overextended and exhausted. Overnight, most of the therapists left, and they hired nurse practitioners to replace many of the psychiatrists. People weren’t getting good care.” While this was not a telepsychiatry startup, it was a corporate takeover of a traditional practice that was unable to remain financially solvent while participating with insurance panels.

Like Sue W, Elizabeth K struggled to get treatment for ADHD even before the pandemic.

“I work multiple part-time jobs, don’t own a car, and don’t have insurance. Before telehealth became available, it was difficult and discouraging for me to maintain consistent treatment. It took me months to get initial appointments with a doctor and I live in one of the largest cities in the country.” She was pleased with the care she received by Done.

“I was pleasantly surprised by the authenticity and thoroughness of my first telehealth provider,” Elizabeth noted. “She remembered and considered more about me, my medical history, and details of my personal life than nearly every psychiatric doctor I’ve ever seen. They informed me of the long-term effects of medications and the importance of routine cardiovascular check-ups. Also, they wouldn’t prescribe more than 5 mg of Adderall (even though I had been prescribed 30-90 mg a day for most of my life) until I completed a medical check-up with blood pressure and blood test results.”

Corporate telepsychiatry may fill an important void and provide care to many people who have been unable to access traditional treatment. Something, however, has to account for the fact that care is more affordable through startups than through traditional psychiatric practices. Startups have expensive technological and infrastructure costs and added layers of administration. This translates to either higher volumes with shorter appointments, less compensation for prescribers, or both. How this will affect the future of psychiatric care remains to be seen.

Dr. Miller, is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

When Sue W’s mother died in 2018, she struggled terribly. She was already seeing a psychotherapist and was taking duloxetine, prescribed by her primary care physician. But her grief was profound, and her depression became paralyzing. She needed to see a psychiatrist, and there were many available in or near her hometown, a Connecticut suburb of New York City, but neither Sue, her therapist, nor her primary care doctor could find a psychiatrist who participated with her insurance. Finally, she was given the name of a psychiatrist in Manhattan who practiced online, and she made an appointment on the Skypiatrist (a telepsychiatry group founded in 2016) website.

“I hesitated about it at first,” Sue said. “The doctor was nice, and I liked the convenience. Appointments were 15 minutes long, although the first session was longer. He focused on the medications, which was okay because I already have a therapist. And it was really easy. I made appointments on their website and I saw the doctor through the same site, and I really liked that I could send him messages.” The psychiatrist was responsive when Sue had trouble coming off duloxetine, and he gave her instructions for a slower taper. The treatment was affordable and accessible, and she got better.

Psychiatry has a problem: The demand for services is far greater than what we can accommodate. This has opened a door for both for nonphysician prescribers and online companies to step in and fill a need that local, office-based psychiatrists can’t meet. When you also consider that many private-practice psychiatrists do not participate with insurance panels, online companies that do accept insurance may add value, convenience, and access. 

Cerebral, the largest online psychiatric service in the country, began seeing patients in January 2020, offering medications and psychotherapy. They participate with a number of commercial insurers, and this varies by state, but not with Medicaid or Medicare. Patients pay a monthly fee, and an initial 30-minute medication evaluation session is conducted, often with a nurse practitioner. They advertise wait times of less than 7 days.

Another company, Done, offers treatment specifically for ADHD. They don’t accept insurance for appointments; patients must submit their own claims for reimbursement. Their pricing structure involves a fee of $199 for the first month, then $79 a month thereafter, which does not include medications. Hims – another online company – targets men with a variety of health issues, including mental health problems.

Some of these internet companies have been in the news recently for concerns related to quality of care and prescribing practices. A The Wall Street Journal article of March 26, 2022, quoted clinicians who had previously worked for Cerebral and Done who left because they felt pressured to see patients quickly and to prescribe stimulants. Not all of the prescribers were unhappy, however. Yina Cruz-Harris, a nurse practitioner at Done who has a doctorate in nursing practice, said that she manages 2,300 patients with ADHD for Done. Virtually all are on stimulants. She renews each patient’s monthly prescription from her New Jersey home, based mostly on online forms filled out by the patients. She’s fast, doing two renewals per minute, and Done pays her almost $10 per patient, working out to around $20,000 in monthly earnings.

In May, the Department of Justice began looking into Cerebral’s practices around controlled substances and more recently, Cerebral has been in the news for complaints from patients that they have been unable to reach their prescribers when problems arise. Some pharmacy chains have refused to fill prescriptions for controlled medications from online telehealth providers, and some online providers, including Cerebral, are no longer prescribing controlled substances. A front-page The Wall Street Journal article on Aug. 19, 2022, told the story of a man with a history of addiction who was prescribed stimulants after a brief appointment with a prescriber at Done. Family and friends in his sober house believe that the stimulants triggered a relapse, and he died of an opioid overdose.

During the early days of the pandemic, nonemergency psychiatric care was shut down and we all became virtual psychiatrists. Many of us saw new patients and prescribed controlled medications to people we had never met in real life.

“John Brown,” MD, PhD, spoke with me on the condition that I don’t use his real name or the name of the practice he left. He was hired by a traditional group practice with a multidisciplinary staff and several offices in his state. Most of the clinicians worked part time and were contractual employees, and Dr. Brown was hired to develop a specialty service. He soon learned that the practice – which participates with a number of insurance plans – was not financially stable, and it was acquired by an investment firm with no medical experience.

“They wanted everyone to work 40-hour weeks and see 14 patients a day, including 3-4 new patients, and suddenly everyone was overextended and exhausted. Overnight, most of the therapists left, and they hired nurse practitioners to replace many of the psychiatrists. People weren’t getting good care.” While this was not a telepsychiatry startup, it was a corporate takeover of a traditional practice that was unable to remain financially solvent while participating with insurance panels.

Like Sue W, Elizabeth K struggled to get treatment for ADHD even before the pandemic.

“I work multiple part-time jobs, don’t own a car, and don’t have insurance. Before telehealth became available, it was difficult and discouraging for me to maintain consistent treatment. It took me months to get initial appointments with a doctor and I live in one of the largest cities in the country.” She was pleased with the care she received by Done.

“I was pleasantly surprised by the authenticity and thoroughness of my first telehealth provider,” Elizabeth noted. “She remembered and considered more about me, my medical history, and details of my personal life than nearly every psychiatric doctor I’ve ever seen. They informed me of the long-term effects of medications and the importance of routine cardiovascular check-ups. Also, they wouldn’t prescribe more than 5 mg of Adderall (even though I had been prescribed 30-90 mg a day for most of my life) until I completed a medical check-up with blood pressure and blood test results.”

Corporate telepsychiatry may fill an important void and provide care to many people who have been unable to access traditional treatment. Something, however, has to account for the fact that care is more affordable through startups than through traditional psychiatric practices. Startups have expensive technological and infrastructure costs and added layers of administration. This translates to either higher volumes with shorter appointments, less compensation for prescribers, or both. How this will affect the future of psychiatric care remains to be seen.

Dr. Miller, is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

When Sue W’s mother died in 2018, she struggled terribly. She was already seeing a psychotherapist and was taking duloxetine, prescribed by her primary care physician. But her grief was profound, and her depression became paralyzing. She needed to see a psychiatrist, and there were many available in or near her hometown, a Connecticut suburb of New York City, but neither Sue, her therapist, nor her primary care doctor could find a psychiatrist who participated with her insurance. Finally, she was given the name of a psychiatrist in Manhattan who practiced online, and she made an appointment on the Skypiatrist (a telepsychiatry group founded in 2016) website.

“I hesitated about it at first,” Sue said. “The doctor was nice, and I liked the convenience. Appointments were 15 minutes long, although the first session was longer. He focused on the medications, which was okay because I already have a therapist. And it was really easy. I made appointments on their website and I saw the doctor through the same site, and I really liked that I could send him messages.” The psychiatrist was responsive when Sue had trouble coming off duloxetine, and he gave her instructions for a slower taper. The treatment was affordable and accessible, and she got better.

Psychiatry has a problem: The demand for services is far greater than what we can accommodate. This has opened a door for both for nonphysician prescribers and online companies to step in and fill a need that local, office-based psychiatrists can’t meet. When you also consider that many private-practice psychiatrists do not participate with insurance panels, online companies that do accept insurance may add value, convenience, and access. 

Cerebral, the largest online psychiatric service in the country, began seeing patients in January 2020, offering medications and psychotherapy. They participate with a number of commercial insurers, and this varies by state, but not with Medicaid or Medicare. Patients pay a monthly fee, and an initial 30-minute medication evaluation session is conducted, often with a nurse practitioner. They advertise wait times of less than 7 days.

Another company, Done, offers treatment specifically for ADHD. They don’t accept insurance for appointments; patients must submit their own claims for reimbursement. Their pricing structure involves a fee of $199 for the first month, then $79 a month thereafter, which does not include medications. Hims – another online company – targets men with a variety of health issues, including mental health problems.

Some of these internet companies have been in the news recently for concerns related to quality of care and prescribing practices. A The Wall Street Journal article of March 26, 2022, quoted clinicians who had previously worked for Cerebral and Done who left because they felt pressured to see patients quickly and to prescribe stimulants. Not all of the prescribers were unhappy, however. Yina Cruz-Harris, a nurse practitioner at Done who has a doctorate in nursing practice, said that she manages 2,300 patients with ADHD for Done. Virtually all are on stimulants. She renews each patient’s monthly prescription from her New Jersey home, based mostly on online forms filled out by the patients. She’s fast, doing two renewals per minute, and Done pays her almost $10 per patient, working out to around $20,000 in monthly earnings.

In May, the Department of Justice began looking into Cerebral’s practices around controlled substances and more recently, Cerebral has been in the news for complaints from patients that they have been unable to reach their prescribers when problems arise. Some pharmacy chains have refused to fill prescriptions for controlled medications from online telehealth providers, and some online providers, including Cerebral, are no longer prescribing controlled substances. A front-page The Wall Street Journal article on Aug. 19, 2022, told the story of a man with a history of addiction who was prescribed stimulants after a brief appointment with a prescriber at Done. Family and friends in his sober house believe that the stimulants triggered a relapse, and he died of an opioid overdose.

During the early days of the pandemic, nonemergency psychiatric care was shut down and we all became virtual psychiatrists. Many of us saw new patients and prescribed controlled medications to people we had never met in real life.

“John Brown,” MD, PhD, spoke with me on the condition that I don’t use his real name or the name of the practice he left. He was hired by a traditional group practice with a multidisciplinary staff and several offices in his state. Most of the clinicians worked part time and were contractual employees, and Dr. Brown was hired to develop a specialty service. He soon learned that the practice – which participates with a number of insurance plans – was not financially stable, and it was acquired by an investment firm with no medical experience.

“They wanted everyone to work 40-hour weeks and see 14 patients a day, including 3-4 new patients, and suddenly everyone was overextended and exhausted. Overnight, most of the therapists left, and they hired nurse practitioners to replace many of the psychiatrists. People weren’t getting good care.” While this was not a telepsychiatry startup, it was a corporate takeover of a traditional practice that was unable to remain financially solvent while participating with insurance panels.

Like Sue W, Elizabeth K struggled to get treatment for ADHD even before the pandemic.

“I work multiple part-time jobs, don’t own a car, and don’t have insurance. Before telehealth became available, it was difficult and discouraging for me to maintain consistent treatment. It took me months to get initial appointments with a doctor and I live in one of the largest cities in the country.” She was pleased with the care she received by Done.

“I was pleasantly surprised by the authenticity and thoroughness of my first telehealth provider,” Elizabeth noted. “She remembered and considered more about me, my medical history, and details of my personal life than nearly every psychiatric doctor I’ve ever seen. They informed me of the long-term effects of medications and the importance of routine cardiovascular check-ups. Also, they wouldn’t prescribe more than 5 mg of Adderall (even though I had been prescribed 30-90 mg a day for most of my life) until I completed a medical check-up with blood pressure and blood test results.”

Corporate telepsychiatry may fill an important void and provide care to many people who have been unable to access traditional treatment. Something, however, has to account for the fact that care is more affordable through startups than through traditional psychiatric practices. Startups have expensive technological and infrastructure costs and added layers of administration. This translates to either higher volumes with shorter appointments, less compensation for prescribers, or both. How this will affect the future of psychiatric care remains to be seen.

Dr. Miller, is a coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). She has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

PORTLAND, ORE. – About 10 years ago when Arash Mostaghimi, MD, MPA, MPH, became an attending physician at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, Boston, he noticed that some of his dermatology colleagues checked the potassium levels religiously in their female patients taking spironolactone, while others never did.

“It led to this question: should we check potassium in healthy young women starting spironolactone for acne?” Dr. Mostaghimi, director of the dermatology inpatient service at Brigham and Women’s, said at the annual meeting of the Pacific Dermatologic Association.

To find out, he and his colleagues reviewed 1,802 serum potassium measurements in a study of healthy young women with no known health conditions who were taking spironolactone, published in 2015. They discovered that 13 of those tests suggested mild hyperkalemia, defined as a level greater than 5.0 mEq/L. Of these, six were rechecked and were normal; no action was taken in the other seven patients.

“This led us to conclude that we spent $78,000 at our institution on testing that did not appear to yield clinically significant information for these patients, and that routine potassium monitoring is unnecessary for most women taking spironolactone for acne,” he said. Their findings have been validated “in many cohorts of data,” he added.

The study serves as an example of efforts dermatologists can take to curb unnecessary costs within the field to be “appropriate stewards of resources,” he continued. “We have to think about the ratio of benefit over cost. It’s not just about the cost, it’s about what you’re getting for the amount of money that you’re spending. The idea of this is not restricting or not giving people medications or access to things that they need. The idea is to do it in a thoughtful way that works across the population.”
 

Value thresholds

Determining the value thresholds of a particular medicine or procedure is also essential to good dermatology practice. To illustrate, Dr. Mostaghimi cited a prospective cohort study that compared treatment patterns and clinical outcomes in 1,536 consecutive patients with nonmelanoma skin cancer (NMSC) with and without limited life expectancy. More than two-thirds of the NMSCs (69%) were treated surgically. After adjusting for tumor and patient characteristics, the researchers found that 43% of patients with low life expectancy died within 5 years, but not from NMSC.

“Does that mean we shouldn’t do surgery for NMSC patients with low life expectancy?” he asked. “Should we do it less? Should we let the patients decide? It’s complicated. As a society, we have to decide what’s worth doing and what’s not worth doing,” he said. “What about old diseases with new treatments, like alopecia areata? Is alopecia areata a cosmetic condition? Dermatologists and patients wouldn’t classify it that way, but many insurers do. How do you negotiate that?”

In 2013, the American Academy of Dermatology identified 10 evidence-based recommendations that can support conversations between patients and dermatologists about treatments, tests, and procedures that may not be necessary. One of the recommendations was not to prescribe oral antifungal therapy for suspected nail fungus without confirmation of fungal infection.

“If a clinician thinks a patient has onychomycosis, he or she is usually right,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “But what’s the added cost/benefit of performing a KOH followed by PAS testing if negative or performing a PAS test directly versus just treating the patient?”

In 2006, he and his colleagues published the results of a decision analysis to address these questions. They determined that the costs of testing to avoid one case of clinically apparent liver injury with terbinafine treatment was $18.2-$43.7 million for the KOH screening pathway and $37.6 to $90.2 million for the PAS testing pathway.

“Is that worth it?” he asked. “Would we get more value for spending the money elsewhere? In this case, the answer is most likely yes.”

Isotretinoin lab testing

Translating research into recommendations and standards of care is one way to help curb costs in dermatology. As an example, he cited lab monitoring for patients treated with isotretinoin for acne.

“There have been a number of papers over the years that have suggested that the number of labs we do is excessive, that the value that they provide is low, and that abnormal results do not impact our decision-making,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “Do some patients on isotretinoin get mildly elevated [liver function tests] and hypertriglyceridemia? Yes, that happens. Does it matter? Nothing has demonstrated that it matters. Does it matter that an 18-year-old has high triglycerides for 6 months? Rarely, if ever.”

To promote a new approach, he and a panel of acne experts from five continents performed a Delphi consensus study. Based on their consensus, they proposed a simple approach: For “generally healthy patients without underlying abnormalities or preexisting conditions warranting further investigation,” check ALT and triglycerides prior to initiating isotretinoin. Then start isotretinoin.

“At the peak dose, recheck ALT and triglycerides – this might be at month 2,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “Other people wait a little bit longer. No labs are required once treatment is complete. Of course, adjust this approach based on your assessment of the patient in front of you. None of these recommendations should replace your clinical judgment and intuition.”

He proposed a new paradigm where dermatologists can ask themselves three questions for every patient they see: Why is this intervention or test being done? Why is it being done in this patient? And why do it at that time? “If we think this way, we can identify some inconsistencies in our own thinking and opportunities for improvement,” he said.

Dr. Mostaghimi reported that he is a consultant to Pfizer, Concert, Lilly, and Bioniz. He is also an advisor to Him & Hers Cosmetics and Digital Diagnostics and is an associate editor for JAMA Dermatology.

PORTLAND, ORE. – About 10 years ago when Arash Mostaghimi, MD, MPA, MPH, became an attending physician at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, Boston, he noticed that some of his dermatology colleagues checked the potassium levels religiously in their female patients taking spironolactone, while others never did.

“It led to this question: should we check potassium in healthy young women starting spironolactone for acne?” Dr. Mostaghimi, director of the dermatology inpatient service at Brigham and Women’s, said at the annual meeting of the Pacific Dermatologic Association.

To find out, he and his colleagues reviewed 1,802 serum potassium measurements in a study of healthy young women with no known health conditions who were taking spironolactone, published in 2015. They discovered that 13 of those tests suggested mild hyperkalemia, defined as a level greater than 5.0 mEq/L. Of these, six were rechecked and were normal; no action was taken in the other seven patients.

“This led us to conclude that we spent $78,000 at our institution on testing that did not appear to yield clinically significant information for these patients, and that routine potassium monitoring is unnecessary for most women taking spironolactone for acne,” he said. Their findings have been validated “in many cohorts of data,” he added.

The study serves as an example of efforts dermatologists can take to curb unnecessary costs within the field to be “appropriate stewards of resources,” he continued. “We have to think about the ratio of benefit over cost. It’s not just about the cost, it’s about what you’re getting for the amount of money that you’re spending. The idea of this is not restricting or not giving people medications or access to things that they need. The idea is to do it in a thoughtful way that works across the population.”
 

Value thresholds

Determining the value thresholds of a particular medicine or procedure is also essential to good dermatology practice. To illustrate, Dr. Mostaghimi cited a prospective cohort study that compared treatment patterns and clinical outcomes in 1,536 consecutive patients with nonmelanoma skin cancer (NMSC) with and without limited life expectancy. More than two-thirds of the NMSCs (69%) were treated surgically. After adjusting for tumor and patient characteristics, the researchers found that 43% of patients with low life expectancy died within 5 years, but not from NMSC.

“Does that mean we shouldn’t do surgery for NMSC patients with low life expectancy?” he asked. “Should we do it less? Should we let the patients decide? It’s complicated. As a society, we have to decide what’s worth doing and what’s not worth doing,” he said. “What about old diseases with new treatments, like alopecia areata? Is alopecia areata a cosmetic condition? Dermatologists and patients wouldn’t classify it that way, but many insurers do. How do you negotiate that?”

In 2013, the American Academy of Dermatology identified 10 evidence-based recommendations that can support conversations between patients and dermatologists about treatments, tests, and procedures that may not be necessary. One of the recommendations was not to prescribe oral antifungal therapy for suspected nail fungus without confirmation of fungal infection.

“If a clinician thinks a patient has onychomycosis, he or she is usually right,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “But what’s the added cost/benefit of performing a KOH followed by PAS testing if negative or performing a PAS test directly versus just treating the patient?”

In 2006, he and his colleagues published the results of a decision analysis to address these questions. They determined that the costs of testing to avoid one case of clinically apparent liver injury with terbinafine treatment was $18.2-$43.7 million for the KOH screening pathway and $37.6 to $90.2 million for the PAS testing pathway.

“Is that worth it?” he asked. “Would we get more value for spending the money elsewhere? In this case, the answer is most likely yes.”

Isotretinoin lab testing

Translating research into recommendations and standards of care is one way to help curb costs in dermatology. As an example, he cited lab monitoring for patients treated with isotretinoin for acne.

“There have been a number of papers over the years that have suggested that the number of labs we do is excessive, that the value that they provide is low, and that abnormal results do not impact our decision-making,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “Do some patients on isotretinoin get mildly elevated [liver function tests] and hypertriglyceridemia? Yes, that happens. Does it matter? Nothing has demonstrated that it matters. Does it matter that an 18-year-old has high triglycerides for 6 months? Rarely, if ever.”

To promote a new approach, he and a panel of acne experts from five continents performed a Delphi consensus study. Based on their consensus, they proposed a simple approach: For “generally healthy patients without underlying abnormalities or preexisting conditions warranting further investigation,” check ALT and triglycerides prior to initiating isotretinoin. Then start isotretinoin.

“At the peak dose, recheck ALT and triglycerides – this might be at month 2,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “Other people wait a little bit longer. No labs are required once treatment is complete. Of course, adjust this approach based on your assessment of the patient in front of you. None of these recommendations should replace your clinical judgment and intuition.”

He proposed a new paradigm where dermatologists can ask themselves three questions for every patient they see: Why is this intervention or test being done? Why is it being done in this patient? And why do it at that time? “If we think this way, we can identify some inconsistencies in our own thinking and opportunities for improvement,” he said.

Dr. Mostaghimi reported that he is a consultant to Pfizer, Concert, Lilly, and Bioniz. He is also an advisor to Him & Hers Cosmetics and Digital Diagnostics and is an associate editor for JAMA Dermatology.

PORTLAND, ORE. – About 10 years ago when Arash Mostaghimi, MD, MPA, MPH, became an attending physician at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, Boston, he noticed that some of his dermatology colleagues checked the potassium levels religiously in their female patients taking spironolactone, while others never did.

“It led to this question: should we check potassium in healthy young women starting spironolactone for acne?” Dr. Mostaghimi, director of the dermatology inpatient service at Brigham and Women’s, said at the annual meeting of the Pacific Dermatologic Association.

To find out, he and his colleagues reviewed 1,802 serum potassium measurements in a study of healthy young women with no known health conditions who were taking spironolactone, published in 2015. They discovered that 13 of those tests suggested mild hyperkalemia, defined as a level greater than 5.0 mEq/L. Of these, six were rechecked and were normal; no action was taken in the other seven patients.

“This led us to conclude that we spent $78,000 at our institution on testing that did not appear to yield clinically significant information for these patients, and that routine potassium monitoring is unnecessary for most women taking spironolactone for acne,” he said. Their findings have been validated “in many cohorts of data,” he added.

The study serves as an example of efforts dermatologists can take to curb unnecessary costs within the field to be “appropriate stewards of resources,” he continued. “We have to think about the ratio of benefit over cost. It’s not just about the cost, it’s about what you’re getting for the amount of money that you’re spending. The idea of this is not restricting or not giving people medications or access to things that they need. The idea is to do it in a thoughtful way that works across the population.”
 

Value thresholds

Determining the value thresholds of a particular medicine or procedure is also essential to good dermatology practice. To illustrate, Dr. Mostaghimi cited a prospective cohort study that compared treatment patterns and clinical outcomes in 1,536 consecutive patients with nonmelanoma skin cancer (NMSC) with and without limited life expectancy. More than two-thirds of the NMSCs (69%) were treated surgically. After adjusting for tumor and patient characteristics, the researchers found that 43% of patients with low life expectancy died within 5 years, but not from NMSC.

“Does that mean we shouldn’t do surgery for NMSC patients with low life expectancy?” he asked. “Should we do it less? Should we let the patients decide? It’s complicated. As a society, we have to decide what’s worth doing and what’s not worth doing,” he said. “What about old diseases with new treatments, like alopecia areata? Is alopecia areata a cosmetic condition? Dermatologists and patients wouldn’t classify it that way, but many insurers do. How do you negotiate that?”

In 2013, the American Academy of Dermatology identified 10 evidence-based recommendations that can support conversations between patients and dermatologists about treatments, tests, and procedures that may not be necessary. One of the recommendations was not to prescribe oral antifungal therapy for suspected nail fungus without confirmation of fungal infection.

“If a clinician thinks a patient has onychomycosis, he or she is usually right,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “But what’s the added cost/benefit of performing a KOH followed by PAS testing if negative or performing a PAS test directly versus just treating the patient?”

In 2006, he and his colleagues published the results of a decision analysis to address these questions. They determined that the costs of testing to avoid one case of clinically apparent liver injury with terbinafine treatment was $18.2-$43.7 million for the KOH screening pathway and $37.6 to $90.2 million for the PAS testing pathway.

“Is that worth it?” he asked. “Would we get more value for spending the money elsewhere? In this case, the answer is most likely yes.”

Isotretinoin lab testing

Translating research into recommendations and standards of care is one way to help curb costs in dermatology. As an example, he cited lab monitoring for patients treated with isotretinoin for acne.

“There have been a number of papers over the years that have suggested that the number of labs we do is excessive, that the value that they provide is low, and that abnormal results do not impact our decision-making,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “Do some patients on isotretinoin get mildly elevated [liver function tests] and hypertriglyceridemia? Yes, that happens. Does it matter? Nothing has demonstrated that it matters. Does it matter that an 18-year-old has high triglycerides for 6 months? Rarely, if ever.”

To promote a new approach, he and a panel of acne experts from five continents performed a Delphi consensus study. Based on their consensus, they proposed a simple approach: For “generally healthy patients without underlying abnormalities or preexisting conditions warranting further investigation,” check ALT and triglycerides prior to initiating isotretinoin. Then start isotretinoin.

“At the peak dose, recheck ALT and triglycerides – this might be at month 2,” Dr. Mostaghimi said. “Other people wait a little bit longer. No labs are required once treatment is complete. Of course, adjust this approach based on your assessment of the patient in front of you. None of these recommendations should replace your clinical judgment and intuition.”

He proposed a new paradigm where dermatologists can ask themselves three questions for every patient they see: Why is this intervention or test being done? Why is it being done in this patient? And why do it at that time? “If we think this way, we can identify some inconsistencies in our own thinking and opportunities for improvement,” he said.

Dr. Mostaghimi reported that he is a consultant to Pfizer, Concert, Lilly, and Bioniz. He is also an advisor to Him & Hers Cosmetics and Digital Diagnostics and is an associate editor for JAMA Dermatology.

Kashyap Patel, MD, followed an unconventional path to becoming a nationally known oncologist. A former news photographer in his native India, Dr. Patel has practiced medicine on three continents.

In 2020, he published a book aimed at cancer specialists and their patients on how to die “with hope and dignity,” titled “Between Life and Death” (Penguin Random House India).

When Dr. Patel, the CEO of Carolina Blood and Cancer Care Associates in Rock Hill, S.C., became president of the Washington-based Community Oncology Alliance 2 years ago, he stepped into a leadership role in community oncology. As an advocate for health care payment reform on Capitol Hill, the South Carolina legislature, and within his own practice, Dr. Patel has long worked to eliminate disparities in U.S. cancer care.

This news organization spoke with Dr. Patel about his unusual career path.
 

Question: Your father had a great influence on you. Can you tell us more about him?

Answer: My dad was a hermit and a saint. He lost his dad when he was 4 years old and moved to the big city with his cousins. When he was 9 or so, he got a message saying that his mum was very ill. So, he and his cousin raised some money, got a doctor and one of those old, rugged jeeps, and they started driving to the village, but rains had destroyed the road. So, without penicillin, his mum died of pneumonia.

He felt that roads and doctor access were the two big factors that could have saved her life. He eventually became the Superintending Engineer for four districts in Gujarat State, building roads connecting every village, but he never gave up his simplistic, minimalist life.

When I was in elementary school, every other weekend my dad would literally dump me at the Mahatma Gandhi Ashram and come back in 2 hours. So, I’m looking at Gandhi’s cabinets, his pictures, reading about his life. So, my formative years were born in that.
 

Q: I read that you were intending to become an engineer and join the space race. How did your father nudge you toward medicine?

A: When I was 9 years old, my favorite movie hero died of cancer. To comfort me, my father inserted the idea into my brain: When you grow up, you can become a doctor to cure cancer. So, when I finished high school, I was 24th in the state and had an option to go to the space school in India. On the day when I was going for the interview, I could see tears in my father’s eyes, and he said, You know what, boy? I thought you’re going to become a doctor and cure cancer. So, to honor him, I went to med school instead.

Courtesty Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: I understand that your father also triggered your interest in photography?

A: I started photographing Kutchi tribal people in 1977, after I bought a camera from a famous architect [Hasmukh Patel], while traveling with my dad. And then my dad bought me a motorcycle, so I started riding myself. From the time I entered med school in 1978 until I finished my residency in 1987, I made several trips following Kutchi migrant families and livestock. They leave their homeland in Kutch [district] during summer in search of grass and water to keep their livestock alive and walk across the state from the desert of Kutch all the way to central Gujarat until monsoon begins. Then they return, only to resume the journey next year. I would catch them along their journey, would talk to them, drink tea and eat millet crepes with them.

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

In 1984, between Dr. Patel’s medical school and residency, the Lions Club in his hometown, Ahmedabad, India, sponsored him and three buddies to document people and wildlife in Gujarat state. Traveling by motorcycle, the four friends stayed for free with local families by knocking on doors and explaining that they were medical students. Dr. Patel’s photographs were exhibited by the Lions Club of Ahmedabad and at India’s top art institution, the Lalit Kala gallery.

In the 3rd year of his internal-medicine residency in Bombay (now Mumbai), Dr. Patel approached a national newspaper, The Indian Express, for work. He was immediately sent on assignment to cover a cholera epidemic and filed his story and photographs the following day. He worked as a photojournalist and subeditor for a year.
 

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: Among all your thousands of pictures, do you have a favorite?

A: There were two photos of Kutchi people that touched me. There was one photo of a lady. All of her worldly belongings were in the picture and a smile on her face showed that we don’t need so many things to be happy. The second photo is of an elderly lady shifting her water pan on her head to a younger family member. And a little girl looks up with a look of curiosity: Will I be doing this when I grow up? We seek so much materialistic happiness. But when you look at the curiosity, smiles, and happiness [in these photos], you realize we could have a lot of happiness in minimalism, as well.

Q: After you finished your residency in Ahmedabad, how did you get started in oncology?

A: In 1986, Ahmedabad City and Gujarat State did not have structured training programs in oncology, so I went to Bombay [Mumbai], where Dr. B.C. Mehta, a true legend and pioneer in India, had started hematology-oncology training. I was a post-doc research fellow with him for a little over a year but when I started seeing patients, I had to answer to myself, Am I doing everything I can to help these people? I saw that the U.K. had one of the best training programs in hem malignancy, so I started applying. Then something happened that was almost like a miracle.

In April 1992, Dr. Patel was working at the Institute of Kidney Diseases in Ahmedabad. One afternoon, just as the clinic was closing for siesta, a family brought in a young girl. She had drug-induced thrombocytopenia and needed an immediate transfusion. The father offered to sell his wedding ring to pay Dr. Patel if he would supervise the treatment and stay by the girl’s side. Dr. Patel told the man to keep his ring, then he remained in the office with the child. At 4 p.m., the office phone rang. It was Dr. H.K. Parikh, an eminent British physician who was wintering in India and needed to make a medical appointment for his wife. On a normal day, Dr. Patel would have missed the call.

“This is how I got to meet Dr. Parikh, out of the blue,” said Dr. Patel. “His wife came to the office for 6 weeks and after 6 weeks, he said, You’re a smart guy; you should come to England. That was in April. I sent a resume and all the usual paperwork. On July 16, 1992, at 2 in the morning, I got a call from the U.K. saying, Your job is confirmed. I’m going to fax your appointment through the Royal College of Physicians, and you’re coming to Manchester to work with us. I’d been sponsored by the Overseas Doctors Training Program.

“So, it turns out that if I’d declined to see that patient and declined to stay in my clinic that afternoon, if I’d declined to see this doctor’s wife, I would never have been in the U.K. And that opened up the doors for me. I like that story because I’ve found that standing up for people who do not have a voice, who do not have hope, always leads to what is destined for me.”
 

Q: After working as a registrar in the United Kingdom 4 years, you found yourself in the United States and, once again, had to train as an internist. What was new about U.S. oncology?

A: I took 3 years to get recertified in Jamaica Hospital in Queens, then became a fellow in hematology-oncology at the Thomas Jefferson in Philadelphia. My U.K. training was all based on hematological malignancy. In the United States, I shifted into solid tumors.

Q: You have a long history of advocating for affordable oncology at the community, state, and federal level, and you recently launched a disparities initiative in your center called NOLA (No One Left Alone). What was the trigger for NOLA?

A: In the spring of 2020, when we started seeing the COVID surge and the difference in mortality rate between the multiple races, at the same time I saw the AACR [American Association for Cancer Research] 2020 disparity report showing that 34% of cancer deaths are preventable – one in three – if we took care of disparities. The same year, the Community Oncology Alliance asked me to become the president. So, I felt that there is something herding me, leading me, to this position. Eighty percent of cancer patients are treated in community clinics like ours. It put the onus on me to do something.

I learned from Gandhi that I cannot depend on government, I cannot depend on the policy, I have to act myself.

I said, I would not worry about making money, I would rather lose funding on this. So, we started. I read 400+ papers; I spent over 1,000 hours reading about disparities. And I realized that it’s not complicated. There are five pillars to eliminate disparity: access to care for financial reasons, access to biomarker testing or precision medicine, access to social determinants of health, access to cancer screening, and trials. If we focus on these five, we can at least bring that number from 34% to 20%, if not lower.

So, we put that plan in place. I dedicated three employees whose only role is to ensure that not a single patient has to take financial burden from my practice. And we showed it’s doable.

This has now become my mission for the last quarter of my life.
 

In 2020, Dr. Patel published a book on dying well titled “Between Life and Death.” It’s framed as a series of his conversations with a former patient, Harry Falls. Harry wanted to understand death better, so Dr. Patel narrated five patient stories, drawing the threads together to help Harry face the inevitable. Dr. Patel now uses a similar approach to train clinicians on having meaningful end-of-life conversations with patients.

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: Why did you feel the need to write a book about dying?

A: The more I’ve witnessed, the more I’m convinced that there are things that we don’t know about this process, which needs to be explored much more. However, I do feel that there’s a power within all of us to steer the process of leaving this world.

Before I sat down with Harry, I loved to counsel patients, but I didn’t have any structural ideas. It was Harry himself who told me that I now had a simple way to explain dying to a much larger audience.
 

Q: What is your secret for fitting everything into your life?

A: I’ll tell you, it’s very simple. If I put my soul, heart, mind, actions, and language on the one plane and don’t let my brain and conditioning influence my choices, then I live in the moment. Whenever I let my conditioned mind take all the decisions, those are crooked, because you know, we’re selfish creatures – we can use what we call the convenient lie to hide inconvenient truth. And I try not to do that. I mean, it’s been a journey. It didn’t come overnight. I learned. And I feel that over all these years, the only thing that rewarded me, that opened the door of where I am today, was pure, selfless process, whether it’s the act of talking, speaking, or doing.

Kashyap Patel, MD, followed an unconventional path to becoming a nationally known oncologist. A former news photographer in his native India, Dr. Patel has practiced medicine on three continents.

In 2020, he published a book aimed at cancer specialists and their patients on how to die “with hope and dignity,” titled “Between Life and Death” (Penguin Random House India).

When Dr. Patel, the CEO of Carolina Blood and Cancer Care Associates in Rock Hill, S.C., became president of the Washington-based Community Oncology Alliance 2 years ago, he stepped into a leadership role in community oncology. As an advocate for health care payment reform on Capitol Hill, the South Carolina legislature, and within his own practice, Dr. Patel has long worked to eliminate disparities in U.S. cancer care.

This news organization spoke with Dr. Patel about his unusual career path.
 

Question: Your father had a great influence on you. Can you tell us more about him?

Answer: My dad was a hermit and a saint. He lost his dad when he was 4 years old and moved to the big city with his cousins. When he was 9 or so, he got a message saying that his mum was very ill. So, he and his cousin raised some money, got a doctor and one of those old, rugged jeeps, and they started driving to the village, but rains had destroyed the road. So, without penicillin, his mum died of pneumonia.

He felt that roads and doctor access were the two big factors that could have saved her life. He eventually became the Superintending Engineer for four districts in Gujarat State, building roads connecting every village, but he never gave up his simplistic, minimalist life.

When I was in elementary school, every other weekend my dad would literally dump me at the Mahatma Gandhi Ashram and come back in 2 hours. So, I’m looking at Gandhi’s cabinets, his pictures, reading about his life. So, my formative years were born in that.
 

Q: I read that you were intending to become an engineer and join the space race. How did your father nudge you toward medicine?

A: When I was 9 years old, my favorite movie hero died of cancer. To comfort me, my father inserted the idea into my brain: When you grow up, you can become a doctor to cure cancer. So, when I finished high school, I was 24th in the state and had an option to go to the space school in India. On the day when I was going for the interview, I could see tears in my father’s eyes, and he said, You know what, boy? I thought you’re going to become a doctor and cure cancer. So, to honor him, I went to med school instead.

Courtesty Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: I understand that your father also triggered your interest in photography?

A: I started photographing Kutchi tribal people in 1977, after I bought a camera from a famous architect [Hasmukh Patel], while traveling with my dad. And then my dad bought me a motorcycle, so I started riding myself. From the time I entered med school in 1978 until I finished my residency in 1987, I made several trips following Kutchi migrant families and livestock. They leave their homeland in Kutch [district] during summer in search of grass and water to keep their livestock alive and walk across the state from the desert of Kutch all the way to central Gujarat until monsoon begins. Then they return, only to resume the journey next year. I would catch them along their journey, would talk to them, drink tea and eat millet crepes with them.

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

In 1984, between Dr. Patel’s medical school and residency, the Lions Club in his hometown, Ahmedabad, India, sponsored him and three buddies to document people and wildlife in Gujarat state. Traveling by motorcycle, the four friends stayed for free with local families by knocking on doors and explaining that they were medical students. Dr. Patel’s photographs were exhibited by the Lions Club of Ahmedabad and at India’s top art institution, the Lalit Kala gallery.

In the 3rd year of his internal-medicine residency in Bombay (now Mumbai), Dr. Patel approached a national newspaper, The Indian Express, for work. He was immediately sent on assignment to cover a cholera epidemic and filed his story and photographs the following day. He worked as a photojournalist and subeditor for a year.
 

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: Among all your thousands of pictures, do you have a favorite?

A: There were two photos of Kutchi people that touched me. There was one photo of a lady. All of her worldly belongings were in the picture and a smile on her face showed that we don’t need so many things to be happy. The second photo is of an elderly lady shifting her water pan on her head to a younger family member. And a little girl looks up with a look of curiosity: Will I be doing this when I grow up? We seek so much materialistic happiness. But when you look at the curiosity, smiles, and happiness [in these photos], you realize we could have a lot of happiness in minimalism, as well.

Q: After you finished your residency in Ahmedabad, how did you get started in oncology?

A: In 1986, Ahmedabad City and Gujarat State did not have structured training programs in oncology, so I went to Bombay [Mumbai], where Dr. B.C. Mehta, a true legend and pioneer in India, had started hematology-oncology training. I was a post-doc research fellow with him for a little over a year but when I started seeing patients, I had to answer to myself, Am I doing everything I can to help these people? I saw that the U.K. had one of the best training programs in hem malignancy, so I started applying. Then something happened that was almost like a miracle.

In April 1992, Dr. Patel was working at the Institute of Kidney Diseases in Ahmedabad. One afternoon, just as the clinic was closing for siesta, a family brought in a young girl. She had drug-induced thrombocytopenia and needed an immediate transfusion. The father offered to sell his wedding ring to pay Dr. Patel if he would supervise the treatment and stay by the girl’s side. Dr. Patel told the man to keep his ring, then he remained in the office with the child. At 4 p.m., the office phone rang. It was Dr. H.K. Parikh, an eminent British physician who was wintering in India and needed to make a medical appointment for his wife. On a normal day, Dr. Patel would have missed the call.

“This is how I got to meet Dr. Parikh, out of the blue,” said Dr. Patel. “His wife came to the office for 6 weeks and after 6 weeks, he said, You’re a smart guy; you should come to England. That was in April. I sent a resume and all the usual paperwork. On July 16, 1992, at 2 in the morning, I got a call from the U.K. saying, Your job is confirmed. I’m going to fax your appointment through the Royal College of Physicians, and you’re coming to Manchester to work with us. I’d been sponsored by the Overseas Doctors Training Program.

“So, it turns out that if I’d declined to see that patient and declined to stay in my clinic that afternoon, if I’d declined to see this doctor’s wife, I would never have been in the U.K. And that opened up the doors for me. I like that story because I’ve found that standing up for people who do not have a voice, who do not have hope, always leads to what is destined for me.”
 

Q: After working as a registrar in the United Kingdom 4 years, you found yourself in the United States and, once again, had to train as an internist. What was new about U.S. oncology?

A: I took 3 years to get recertified in Jamaica Hospital in Queens, then became a fellow in hematology-oncology at the Thomas Jefferson in Philadelphia. My U.K. training was all based on hematological malignancy. In the United States, I shifted into solid tumors.

Q: You have a long history of advocating for affordable oncology at the community, state, and federal level, and you recently launched a disparities initiative in your center called NOLA (No One Left Alone). What was the trigger for NOLA?

A: In the spring of 2020, when we started seeing the COVID surge and the difference in mortality rate between the multiple races, at the same time I saw the AACR [American Association for Cancer Research] 2020 disparity report showing that 34% of cancer deaths are preventable – one in three – if we took care of disparities. The same year, the Community Oncology Alliance asked me to become the president. So, I felt that there is something herding me, leading me, to this position. Eighty percent of cancer patients are treated in community clinics like ours. It put the onus on me to do something.

I learned from Gandhi that I cannot depend on government, I cannot depend on the policy, I have to act myself.

I said, I would not worry about making money, I would rather lose funding on this. So, we started. I read 400+ papers; I spent over 1,000 hours reading about disparities. And I realized that it’s not complicated. There are five pillars to eliminate disparity: access to care for financial reasons, access to biomarker testing or precision medicine, access to social determinants of health, access to cancer screening, and trials. If we focus on these five, we can at least bring that number from 34% to 20%, if not lower.

So, we put that plan in place. I dedicated three employees whose only role is to ensure that not a single patient has to take financial burden from my practice. And we showed it’s doable.

This has now become my mission for the last quarter of my life.
 

In 2020, Dr. Patel published a book on dying well titled “Between Life and Death.” It’s framed as a series of his conversations with a former patient, Harry Falls. Harry wanted to understand death better, so Dr. Patel narrated five patient stories, drawing the threads together to help Harry face the inevitable. Dr. Patel now uses a similar approach to train clinicians on having meaningful end-of-life conversations with patients.

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: Why did you feel the need to write a book about dying?

A: The more I’ve witnessed, the more I’m convinced that there are things that we don’t know about this process, which needs to be explored much more. However, I do feel that there’s a power within all of us to steer the process of leaving this world.

Before I sat down with Harry, I loved to counsel patients, but I didn’t have any structural ideas. It was Harry himself who told me that I now had a simple way to explain dying to a much larger audience.
 

Q: What is your secret for fitting everything into your life?

A: I’ll tell you, it’s very simple. If I put my soul, heart, mind, actions, and language on the one plane and don’t let my brain and conditioning influence my choices, then I live in the moment. Whenever I let my conditioned mind take all the decisions, those are crooked, because you know, we’re selfish creatures – we can use what we call the convenient lie to hide inconvenient truth. And I try not to do that. I mean, it’s been a journey. It didn’t come overnight. I learned. And I feel that over all these years, the only thing that rewarded me, that opened the door of where I am today, was pure, selfless process, whether it’s the act of talking, speaking, or doing.

Kashyap Patel, MD, followed an unconventional path to becoming a nationally known oncologist. A former news photographer in his native India, Dr. Patel has practiced medicine on three continents.

In 2020, he published a book aimed at cancer specialists and their patients on how to die “with hope and dignity,” titled “Between Life and Death” (Penguin Random House India).

When Dr. Patel, the CEO of Carolina Blood and Cancer Care Associates in Rock Hill, S.C., became president of the Washington-based Community Oncology Alliance 2 years ago, he stepped into a leadership role in community oncology. As an advocate for health care payment reform on Capitol Hill, the South Carolina legislature, and within his own practice, Dr. Patel has long worked to eliminate disparities in U.S. cancer care.

This news organization spoke with Dr. Patel about his unusual career path.
 

Question: Your father had a great influence on you. Can you tell us more about him?

Answer: My dad was a hermit and a saint. He lost his dad when he was 4 years old and moved to the big city with his cousins. When he was 9 or so, he got a message saying that his mum was very ill. So, he and his cousin raised some money, got a doctor and one of those old, rugged jeeps, and they started driving to the village, but rains had destroyed the road. So, without penicillin, his mum died of pneumonia.

He felt that roads and doctor access were the two big factors that could have saved her life. He eventually became the Superintending Engineer for four districts in Gujarat State, building roads connecting every village, but he never gave up his simplistic, minimalist life.

When I was in elementary school, every other weekend my dad would literally dump me at the Mahatma Gandhi Ashram and come back in 2 hours. So, I’m looking at Gandhi’s cabinets, his pictures, reading about his life. So, my formative years were born in that.
 

Q: I read that you were intending to become an engineer and join the space race. How did your father nudge you toward medicine?

A: When I was 9 years old, my favorite movie hero died of cancer. To comfort me, my father inserted the idea into my brain: When you grow up, you can become a doctor to cure cancer. So, when I finished high school, I was 24th in the state and had an option to go to the space school in India. On the day when I was going for the interview, I could see tears in my father’s eyes, and he said, You know what, boy? I thought you’re going to become a doctor and cure cancer. So, to honor him, I went to med school instead.

Courtesty Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: I understand that your father also triggered your interest in photography?

A: I started photographing Kutchi tribal people in 1977, after I bought a camera from a famous architect [Hasmukh Patel], while traveling with my dad. And then my dad bought me a motorcycle, so I started riding myself. From the time I entered med school in 1978 until I finished my residency in 1987, I made several trips following Kutchi migrant families and livestock. They leave their homeland in Kutch [district] during summer in search of grass and water to keep their livestock alive and walk across the state from the desert of Kutch all the way to central Gujarat until monsoon begins. Then they return, only to resume the journey next year. I would catch them along their journey, would talk to them, drink tea and eat millet crepes with them.

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

In 1984, between Dr. Patel’s medical school and residency, the Lions Club in his hometown, Ahmedabad, India, sponsored him and three buddies to document people and wildlife in Gujarat state. Traveling by motorcycle, the four friends stayed for free with local families by knocking on doors and explaining that they were medical students. Dr. Patel’s photographs were exhibited by the Lions Club of Ahmedabad and at India’s top art institution, the Lalit Kala gallery.

In the 3rd year of his internal-medicine residency in Bombay (now Mumbai), Dr. Patel approached a national newspaper, The Indian Express, for work. He was immediately sent on assignment to cover a cholera epidemic and filed his story and photographs the following day. He worked as a photojournalist and subeditor for a year.
 

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: Among all your thousands of pictures, do you have a favorite?

A: There were two photos of Kutchi people that touched me. There was one photo of a lady. All of her worldly belongings were in the picture and a smile on her face showed that we don’t need so many things to be happy. The second photo is of an elderly lady shifting her water pan on her head to a younger family member. And a little girl looks up with a look of curiosity: Will I be doing this when I grow up? We seek so much materialistic happiness. But when you look at the curiosity, smiles, and happiness [in these photos], you realize we could have a lot of happiness in minimalism, as well.

Q: After you finished your residency in Ahmedabad, how did you get started in oncology?

A: In 1986, Ahmedabad City and Gujarat State did not have structured training programs in oncology, so I went to Bombay [Mumbai], where Dr. B.C. Mehta, a true legend and pioneer in India, had started hematology-oncology training. I was a post-doc research fellow with him for a little over a year but when I started seeing patients, I had to answer to myself, Am I doing everything I can to help these people? I saw that the U.K. had one of the best training programs in hem malignancy, so I started applying. Then something happened that was almost like a miracle.

In April 1992, Dr. Patel was working at the Institute of Kidney Diseases in Ahmedabad. One afternoon, just as the clinic was closing for siesta, a family brought in a young girl. She had drug-induced thrombocytopenia and needed an immediate transfusion. The father offered to sell his wedding ring to pay Dr. Patel if he would supervise the treatment and stay by the girl’s side. Dr. Patel told the man to keep his ring, then he remained in the office with the child. At 4 p.m., the office phone rang. It was Dr. H.K. Parikh, an eminent British physician who was wintering in India and needed to make a medical appointment for his wife. On a normal day, Dr. Patel would have missed the call.

“This is how I got to meet Dr. Parikh, out of the blue,” said Dr. Patel. “His wife came to the office for 6 weeks and after 6 weeks, he said, You’re a smart guy; you should come to England. That was in April. I sent a resume and all the usual paperwork. On July 16, 1992, at 2 in the morning, I got a call from the U.K. saying, Your job is confirmed. I’m going to fax your appointment through the Royal College of Physicians, and you’re coming to Manchester to work with us. I’d been sponsored by the Overseas Doctors Training Program.

“So, it turns out that if I’d declined to see that patient and declined to stay in my clinic that afternoon, if I’d declined to see this doctor’s wife, I would never have been in the U.K. And that opened up the doors for me. I like that story because I’ve found that standing up for people who do not have a voice, who do not have hope, always leads to what is destined for me.”
 

Q: After working as a registrar in the United Kingdom 4 years, you found yourself in the United States and, once again, had to train as an internist. What was new about U.S. oncology?

A: I took 3 years to get recertified in Jamaica Hospital in Queens, then became a fellow in hematology-oncology at the Thomas Jefferson in Philadelphia. My U.K. training was all based on hematological malignancy. In the United States, I shifted into solid tumors.

Q: You have a long history of advocating for affordable oncology at the community, state, and federal level, and you recently launched a disparities initiative in your center called NOLA (No One Left Alone). What was the trigger for NOLA?

A: In the spring of 2020, when we started seeing the COVID surge and the difference in mortality rate between the multiple races, at the same time I saw the AACR [American Association for Cancer Research] 2020 disparity report showing that 34% of cancer deaths are preventable – one in three – if we took care of disparities. The same year, the Community Oncology Alliance asked me to become the president. So, I felt that there is something herding me, leading me, to this position. Eighty percent of cancer patients are treated in community clinics like ours. It put the onus on me to do something.

I learned from Gandhi that I cannot depend on government, I cannot depend on the policy, I have to act myself.

I said, I would not worry about making money, I would rather lose funding on this. So, we started. I read 400+ papers; I spent over 1,000 hours reading about disparities. And I realized that it’s not complicated. There are five pillars to eliminate disparity: access to care for financial reasons, access to biomarker testing or precision medicine, access to social determinants of health, access to cancer screening, and trials. If we focus on these five, we can at least bring that number from 34% to 20%, if not lower.

So, we put that plan in place. I dedicated three employees whose only role is to ensure that not a single patient has to take financial burden from my practice. And we showed it’s doable.

This has now become my mission for the last quarter of my life.
 

In 2020, Dr. Patel published a book on dying well titled “Between Life and Death.” It’s framed as a series of his conversations with a former patient, Harry Falls. Harry wanted to understand death better, so Dr. Patel narrated five patient stories, drawing the threads together to help Harry face the inevitable. Dr. Patel now uses a similar approach to train clinicians on having meaningful end-of-life conversations with patients.

Courtesy Dr. Kashyap Patel

Q: Why did you feel the need to write a book about dying?

A: The more I’ve witnessed, the more I’m convinced that there are things that we don’t know about this process, which needs to be explored much more. However, I do feel that there’s a power within all of us to steer the process of leaving this world.

Before I sat down with Harry, I loved to counsel patients, but I didn’t have any structural ideas. It was Harry himself who told me that I now had a simple way to explain dying to a much larger audience.
 

Q: What is your secret for fitting everything into your life?

A: I’ll tell you, it’s very simple. If I put my soul, heart, mind, actions, and language on the one plane and don’t let my brain and conditioning influence my choices, then I live in the moment. Whenever I let my conditioned mind take all the decisions, those are crooked, because you know, we’re selfish creatures – we can use what we call the convenient lie to hide inconvenient truth. And I try not to do that. I mean, it’s been a journey. It didn’t come overnight. I learned. And I feel that over all these years, the only thing that rewarded me, that opened the door of where I am today, was pure, selfless process, whether it’s the act of talking, speaking, or doing.