Practice Management

Pregnant and scared, Natasha Valle went to a Tennova Healthcare hospital, Clarksville, Tenn., in January 2021 because she was bleeding. She didn’t know much about miscarriage, but this seemed like one.

In the emergency department, she was examined then sent home, she said. She went back when her cramping became excruciating. Then home again. It ultimately took three trips to the ED on 3 consecutive days, generating three separate bills, before she saw a doctor who looked at her blood work and confirmed her fears.

“At the time I wasn’t thinking, ‘Oh, I need to see a doctor,’ ” Ms. Valle recalled. “But when you think about it, it’s like, ‘Well, dang – why didn’t I see a doctor?’ ” It’s unclear whether the repeat visits were due to delays in seeing a physician, but the experience worried her. And she’s still paying the bills.

The hospital declined to discuss Ms. Valle’s care, citing patient privacy. But 17 months before her 3-day ordeal, Tennova had outsourced its emergency departments to American Physician Partners, a medical staffing company owned by private equity investors. APP employs fewer doctors in its EDs as one of its cost-saving initiatives to increase earnings, according to a confidential company document obtained by KHN and NPR.

This staffing strategy has permeated hospitals, and particularly emergency departments, that seek to reduce their top expense: physician labor. While diagnosing and treating patients was once their domain, doctors are increasingly being replaced by nurse practitioners and physician assistants, collectively known as “midlevel practitioners,” who can perform many of the same duties and generate much of the same revenue for less than half of the pay.

“APP has numerous cost saving initiatives underway as part of the Company’s continual focus on cost optimization,” the document says, including a “shift of staffing” between doctors and midlevel practitioners.

In a statement to KHN, American Physician Partners said this strategy is a way to ensure all EDs remain fully staffed, calling it a “blended model” that allows doctors, nurse practitioners, and physician assistants “to provide care to their fullest potential.”

Critics of this strategy say the quest to save money results in treatment meted out by someone with far less training than a physician, leaving patients vulnerable to misdiagnoses, higher medical bills, and inadequate care. And these fears are bolstered by evidence that suggests dropping doctors from EDs may not be good for patients.

A working paper, published in October by the National Bureau of Economic Research, analyzed roughly 1.1 million visits to 44 EDs throughout the Veterans Health Administration, where nurse practitioners can treat patients without oversight from doctors.

Researchers found that treatment by a nurse practitioner resulted on average in a 7% increase in cost of care and an 11% increase in length of stay, extending patients’ time in the ED by minutes for minor visits and hours for longer ones. These gaps widened among patients with more severe diagnoses, the study said, but could be somewhat mitigated by nurse practitioners with more experience.

The study also found that ED patients treated by a nurse practitioner were 20% more likely to be readmitted to the hospital for a preventable reason within 30 days, although the overall risk of readmission remained very small.

Yiqun Chen, PhD, who is an assistant professor of economics at the University of Illinois at Chicago and coauthored the study, said these findings are not an indictment of nurse practitioners in the ED. Instead, she said, she hopes the study will guide how to best deploy nurse practitioners: in treatment of simpler patients or circumstances when no doctor is available.

“It’s not just a simple question of if we can substitute physicians with nurse practitioners or not,” Dr. Chen said. “It depends on how we use them. If we just use them as independent providers, especially ... for relatively complicated patients, it doesn’t seem to be a very good use.”

Dr. Chen’s research echoes smaller studies, like one from The Harvey L. Neiman Health Policy Institute that found nonphysician practitioners in EDs were associated with a 5.3% increase in imaging, which could unnecessarily increase bills for patients. Separately, a study at the Hattiesburg Clinic in Mississippi found that midlevel practitioners in primary care – not in the emergency department – increased the out-of-pocket costs to patients while also leading to worse performance on 9 of 10 quality-of-care metrics, including cancer screenings and vaccination rates.

But definitive evidence remains elusive that replacing ER doctors with nonphysicians has a negative impact on patients, said Cameron Gettel, MD, an assistant professor of emergency medicine at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Private equity investment and the use of midlevel practitioners rose in lockstep in the ED, Dr. Gettel said, and in the absence of game-changing research, the pattern will likely continue.

“Worse patient outcomes haven’t really been shown across the board,” he said. “And I think until that is shown, then they will continue to play an increasing role.”
 

For private equity, dropping ED docs is a “simple equation”

Private equity companies pool money from wealthy investors to buy their way into various industries, often slashing spending and seeking to flip businesses in 3 to 7 years. While this business model is a proven moneymaker on Wall Street, it raises concerns in health care, where critics worry the pressure to turn big profits will influence life-or-death decisions that were once left solely to medical professionals.

Nearly $1 trillion in private equity funds have gone into almost 8,000 health care transactions over the past decade, according to industry tracker PitchBook, including buying into medical staffing companies that many hospitals hire to manage their emergency departments.

Two firms dominate the ED staffing industry: TeamHealth, bought by private equity firm Blackstone in 2016, and Envision Healthcare, bought by KKR in 2018. Trying to undercut these staffing giants is American Physician Partners, a rapidly expanding company that runs EDs in at least 17 states and is 50% owned by private equity firm BBH Capital Partners.

These staffing companies have been among the most aggressive in replacing doctors to cut costs, said Robert McNamara, MD, a founder of the American Academy of Emergency Medicine and chair of emergency medicine at Temple University, Philadelphia.

“It’s a relatively simple equation,” Dr. McNamara said. “Their No. 1 expense is the board-certified emergency physician. So they are going to want to keep that expense as low as possible.”

Not everyone sees the trend of private equity in ED staffing in a negative light. Jennifer Orozco, president of the American Academy of Physician Associates, which represents physician assistants, said even if the change – to use more nonphysician providers – is driven by the staffing firms’ desire to make more money, patients are still well served by a team approach that includes nurse practitioners and physician assistants.

“Though I see that shift, it’s not about profits at the end of the day,” Ms. Orozco said. “It’s about the patient.”

The “shift” is nearly invisible to patients because hospitals rarely promote branding from their ED staffing firms and there is little public documentation of private equity investments.

Arthur Smolensky, MD, a Tennessee emergency medicine specialist attempting to measure private equity’s intrusion into EDs, said his review of hospital job postings and employment contracts in 14 major metropolitan areas found that 43% of ED patients were seen in EDs staffed by companies with nonphysician owners, nearly all of whom are private equity investors.

Dr. Smolensky hopes to publish his full study, expanding to 55 metro areas, later this year. But this research will merely quantify what many doctors already know: The ED has changed. Demoralized by an increased focus on profit, and wary of a looming surplus of emergency medicine residents because there are fewer jobs to fill, many experienced doctors are leaving the ED on their own, he said.

“Most of us didn’t go into medicine to supervise an army of people that are not as well trained as we are,” Dr. Smolensky said. “We want to take care of patients.”
 

“I guess we’re the first guinea pigs for our ER”

Joshua Allen, a nurse practitioner at a small Kentucky hospital, snaked a rubber hose through a rack of pork ribs to practice inserting a chest tube to fix a collapsed lung.

It was 2020, and American Physician Partners was restructuring the ED where Mr. Allen worked, reducing shifts from two doctors to one. Once Mr. Allen had placed 10 tubes under a doctor’s supervision, he would be allowed to do it on his own.

“I guess we’re the first guinea pigs for our ER,” he said. “If we do have a major trauma and multiple victims come in, there’s only one doctor there. ... We need to be prepared.”

Mr. Allen is one of many midlevel practitioners finding work in emergency departments. Nurse practitioners and physician assistants are among the fastest-growing occupations in the nation, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Generally, they have master’s degrees and receive several years of specialized schooling but have significantly less training than doctors. Many are permitted to diagnose patients and prescribe medication with little or no supervision from a doctor, although limitations vary by state.

The Neiman Institute found that the share of ED visits in which a midlevel practitioner was the main clinician increased by more than 172% between 2005 and 2020. Another study, in the Journal of Emergency Medicine, reported that if trends continue there may be equal numbers of midlevel practitioners and doctors in EDs by 2030.

There is little mystery as to why. Federal data shows emergency medicine doctors are paid about $310,000 a year on average, while nurse practitioners and physician assistants earn less than $120,000. Generally, hospitals can bill for care by a midlevel practitioner at 85% the rate of a doctor while paying them less than half as much.

Private equity can make millions in the gap.

For example, Envision once encouraged EDs to employ “the least expensive resource” and treat up to 35% of patients with midlevel practitioners, according to a 2017 PowerPoint presentation. The presentation drew scorn on social media and disappeared from Envision’s website.

Envision declined a request for a phone interview. In a written statement to KHN, spokesperson Aliese Polk said the company does not direct its physician leaders on how to care for patients and called the presentation a “concept guide” that does not represent current views.

American Physician Partners touted roughly the same staffing strategy in 2021 in response to the No Surprises Act, which threatened the company’s profits by outlawing surprise medical bills. In its confidential pitch to lenders, the company estimated it could cut almost $6 million by shifting more staffing from physicians to midlevel practitioners.

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.

Pregnant and scared, Natasha Valle went to a Tennova Healthcare hospital, Clarksville, Tenn., in January 2021 because she was bleeding. She didn’t know much about miscarriage, but this seemed like one.

In the emergency department, she was examined then sent home, she said. She went back when her cramping became excruciating. Then home again. It ultimately took three trips to the ED on 3 consecutive days, generating three separate bills, before she saw a doctor who looked at her blood work and confirmed her fears.

“At the time I wasn’t thinking, ‘Oh, I need to see a doctor,’ ” Ms. Valle recalled. “But when you think about it, it’s like, ‘Well, dang – why didn’t I see a doctor?’ ” It’s unclear whether the repeat visits were due to delays in seeing a physician, but the experience worried her. And she’s still paying the bills.

The hospital declined to discuss Ms. Valle’s care, citing patient privacy. But 17 months before her 3-day ordeal, Tennova had outsourced its emergency departments to American Physician Partners, a medical staffing company owned by private equity investors. APP employs fewer doctors in its EDs as one of its cost-saving initiatives to increase earnings, according to a confidential company document obtained by KHN and NPR.

This staffing strategy has permeated hospitals, and particularly emergency departments, that seek to reduce their top expense: physician labor. While diagnosing and treating patients was once their domain, doctors are increasingly being replaced by nurse practitioners and physician assistants, collectively known as “midlevel practitioners,” who can perform many of the same duties and generate much of the same revenue for less than half of the pay.

“APP has numerous cost saving initiatives underway as part of the Company’s continual focus on cost optimization,” the document says, including a “shift of staffing” between doctors and midlevel practitioners.

In a statement to KHN, American Physician Partners said this strategy is a way to ensure all EDs remain fully staffed, calling it a “blended model” that allows doctors, nurse practitioners, and physician assistants “to provide care to their fullest potential.”

Critics of this strategy say the quest to save money results in treatment meted out by someone with far less training than a physician, leaving patients vulnerable to misdiagnoses, higher medical bills, and inadequate care. And these fears are bolstered by evidence that suggests dropping doctors from EDs may not be good for patients.

A working paper, published in October by the National Bureau of Economic Research, analyzed roughly 1.1 million visits to 44 EDs throughout the Veterans Health Administration, where nurse practitioners can treat patients without oversight from doctors.

Researchers found that treatment by a nurse practitioner resulted on average in a 7% increase in cost of care and an 11% increase in length of stay, extending patients’ time in the ED by minutes for minor visits and hours for longer ones. These gaps widened among patients with more severe diagnoses, the study said, but could be somewhat mitigated by nurse practitioners with more experience.

The study also found that ED patients treated by a nurse practitioner were 20% more likely to be readmitted to the hospital for a preventable reason within 30 days, although the overall risk of readmission remained very small.

Yiqun Chen, PhD, who is an assistant professor of economics at the University of Illinois at Chicago and coauthored the study, said these findings are not an indictment of nurse practitioners in the ED. Instead, she said, she hopes the study will guide how to best deploy nurse practitioners: in treatment of simpler patients or circumstances when no doctor is available.

“It’s not just a simple question of if we can substitute physicians with nurse practitioners or not,” Dr. Chen said. “It depends on how we use them. If we just use them as independent providers, especially ... for relatively complicated patients, it doesn’t seem to be a very good use.”

Dr. Chen’s research echoes smaller studies, like one from The Harvey L. Neiman Health Policy Institute that found nonphysician practitioners in EDs were associated with a 5.3% increase in imaging, which could unnecessarily increase bills for patients. Separately, a study at the Hattiesburg Clinic in Mississippi found that midlevel practitioners in primary care – not in the emergency department – increased the out-of-pocket costs to patients while also leading to worse performance on 9 of 10 quality-of-care metrics, including cancer screenings and vaccination rates.

But definitive evidence remains elusive that replacing ER doctors with nonphysicians has a negative impact on patients, said Cameron Gettel, MD, an assistant professor of emergency medicine at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Private equity investment and the use of midlevel practitioners rose in lockstep in the ED, Dr. Gettel said, and in the absence of game-changing research, the pattern will likely continue.

“Worse patient outcomes haven’t really been shown across the board,” he said. “And I think until that is shown, then they will continue to play an increasing role.”
 

For private equity, dropping ED docs is a “simple equation”

Private equity companies pool money from wealthy investors to buy their way into various industries, often slashing spending and seeking to flip businesses in 3 to 7 years. While this business model is a proven moneymaker on Wall Street, it raises concerns in health care, where critics worry the pressure to turn big profits will influence life-or-death decisions that were once left solely to medical professionals.

Nearly $1 trillion in private equity funds have gone into almost 8,000 health care transactions over the past decade, according to industry tracker PitchBook, including buying into medical staffing companies that many hospitals hire to manage their emergency departments.

Two firms dominate the ED staffing industry: TeamHealth, bought by private equity firm Blackstone in 2016, and Envision Healthcare, bought by KKR in 2018. Trying to undercut these staffing giants is American Physician Partners, a rapidly expanding company that runs EDs in at least 17 states and is 50% owned by private equity firm BBH Capital Partners.

These staffing companies have been among the most aggressive in replacing doctors to cut costs, said Robert McNamara, MD, a founder of the American Academy of Emergency Medicine and chair of emergency medicine at Temple University, Philadelphia.

“It’s a relatively simple equation,” Dr. McNamara said. “Their No. 1 expense is the board-certified emergency physician. So they are going to want to keep that expense as low as possible.”

Not everyone sees the trend of private equity in ED staffing in a negative light. Jennifer Orozco, president of the American Academy of Physician Associates, which represents physician assistants, said even if the change – to use more nonphysician providers – is driven by the staffing firms’ desire to make more money, patients are still well served by a team approach that includes nurse practitioners and physician assistants.

“Though I see that shift, it’s not about profits at the end of the day,” Ms. Orozco said. “It’s about the patient.”

The “shift” is nearly invisible to patients because hospitals rarely promote branding from their ED staffing firms and there is little public documentation of private equity investments.

Arthur Smolensky, MD, a Tennessee emergency medicine specialist attempting to measure private equity’s intrusion into EDs, said his review of hospital job postings and employment contracts in 14 major metropolitan areas found that 43% of ED patients were seen in EDs staffed by companies with nonphysician owners, nearly all of whom are private equity investors.

Dr. Smolensky hopes to publish his full study, expanding to 55 metro areas, later this year. But this research will merely quantify what many doctors already know: The ED has changed. Demoralized by an increased focus on profit, and wary of a looming surplus of emergency medicine residents because there are fewer jobs to fill, many experienced doctors are leaving the ED on their own, he said.

“Most of us didn’t go into medicine to supervise an army of people that are not as well trained as we are,” Dr. Smolensky said. “We want to take care of patients.”
 

“I guess we’re the first guinea pigs for our ER”

Joshua Allen, a nurse practitioner at a small Kentucky hospital, snaked a rubber hose through a rack of pork ribs to practice inserting a chest tube to fix a collapsed lung.

It was 2020, and American Physician Partners was restructuring the ED where Mr. Allen worked, reducing shifts from two doctors to one. Once Mr. Allen had placed 10 tubes under a doctor’s supervision, he would be allowed to do it on his own.

“I guess we’re the first guinea pigs for our ER,” he said. “If we do have a major trauma and multiple victims come in, there’s only one doctor there. ... We need to be prepared.”

Mr. Allen is one of many midlevel practitioners finding work in emergency departments. Nurse practitioners and physician assistants are among the fastest-growing occupations in the nation, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Generally, they have master’s degrees and receive several years of specialized schooling but have significantly less training than doctors. Many are permitted to diagnose patients and prescribe medication with little or no supervision from a doctor, although limitations vary by state.

The Neiman Institute found that the share of ED visits in which a midlevel practitioner was the main clinician increased by more than 172% between 2005 and 2020. Another study, in the Journal of Emergency Medicine, reported that if trends continue there may be equal numbers of midlevel practitioners and doctors in EDs by 2030.

There is little mystery as to why. Federal data shows emergency medicine doctors are paid about $310,000 a year on average, while nurse practitioners and physician assistants earn less than $120,000. Generally, hospitals can bill for care by a midlevel practitioner at 85% the rate of a doctor while paying them less than half as much.

Private equity can make millions in the gap.

For example, Envision once encouraged EDs to employ “the least expensive resource” and treat up to 35% of patients with midlevel practitioners, according to a 2017 PowerPoint presentation. The presentation drew scorn on social media and disappeared from Envision’s website.

Envision declined a request for a phone interview. In a written statement to KHN, spokesperson Aliese Polk said the company does not direct its physician leaders on how to care for patients and called the presentation a “concept guide” that does not represent current views.

American Physician Partners touted roughly the same staffing strategy in 2021 in response to the No Surprises Act, which threatened the company’s profits by outlawing surprise medical bills. In its confidential pitch to lenders, the company estimated it could cut almost $6 million by shifting more staffing from physicians to midlevel practitioners.

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.

Pregnant and scared, Natasha Valle went to a Tennova Healthcare hospital, Clarksville, Tenn., in January 2021 because she was bleeding. She didn’t know much about miscarriage, but this seemed like one.

In the emergency department, she was examined then sent home, she said. She went back when her cramping became excruciating. Then home again. It ultimately took three trips to the ED on 3 consecutive days, generating three separate bills, before she saw a doctor who looked at her blood work and confirmed her fears.

“At the time I wasn’t thinking, ‘Oh, I need to see a doctor,’ ” Ms. Valle recalled. “But when you think about it, it’s like, ‘Well, dang – why didn’t I see a doctor?’ ” It’s unclear whether the repeat visits were due to delays in seeing a physician, but the experience worried her. And she’s still paying the bills.

The hospital declined to discuss Ms. Valle’s care, citing patient privacy. But 17 months before her 3-day ordeal, Tennova had outsourced its emergency departments to American Physician Partners, a medical staffing company owned by private equity investors. APP employs fewer doctors in its EDs as one of its cost-saving initiatives to increase earnings, according to a confidential company document obtained by KHN and NPR.

This staffing strategy has permeated hospitals, and particularly emergency departments, that seek to reduce their top expense: physician labor. While diagnosing and treating patients was once their domain, doctors are increasingly being replaced by nurse practitioners and physician assistants, collectively known as “midlevel practitioners,” who can perform many of the same duties and generate much of the same revenue for less than half of the pay.

“APP has numerous cost saving initiatives underway as part of the Company’s continual focus on cost optimization,” the document says, including a “shift of staffing” between doctors and midlevel practitioners.

In a statement to KHN, American Physician Partners said this strategy is a way to ensure all EDs remain fully staffed, calling it a “blended model” that allows doctors, nurse practitioners, and physician assistants “to provide care to their fullest potential.”

Critics of this strategy say the quest to save money results in treatment meted out by someone with far less training than a physician, leaving patients vulnerable to misdiagnoses, higher medical bills, and inadequate care. And these fears are bolstered by evidence that suggests dropping doctors from EDs may not be good for patients.

A working paper, published in October by the National Bureau of Economic Research, analyzed roughly 1.1 million visits to 44 EDs throughout the Veterans Health Administration, where nurse practitioners can treat patients without oversight from doctors.

Researchers found that treatment by a nurse practitioner resulted on average in a 7% increase in cost of care and an 11% increase in length of stay, extending patients’ time in the ED by minutes for minor visits and hours for longer ones. These gaps widened among patients with more severe diagnoses, the study said, but could be somewhat mitigated by nurse practitioners with more experience.

The study also found that ED patients treated by a nurse practitioner were 20% more likely to be readmitted to the hospital for a preventable reason within 30 days, although the overall risk of readmission remained very small.

Yiqun Chen, PhD, who is an assistant professor of economics at the University of Illinois at Chicago and coauthored the study, said these findings are not an indictment of nurse practitioners in the ED. Instead, she said, she hopes the study will guide how to best deploy nurse practitioners: in treatment of simpler patients or circumstances when no doctor is available.

“It’s not just a simple question of if we can substitute physicians with nurse practitioners or not,” Dr. Chen said. “It depends on how we use them. If we just use them as independent providers, especially ... for relatively complicated patients, it doesn’t seem to be a very good use.”

Dr. Chen’s research echoes smaller studies, like one from The Harvey L. Neiman Health Policy Institute that found nonphysician practitioners in EDs were associated with a 5.3% increase in imaging, which could unnecessarily increase bills for patients. Separately, a study at the Hattiesburg Clinic in Mississippi found that midlevel practitioners in primary care – not in the emergency department – increased the out-of-pocket costs to patients while also leading to worse performance on 9 of 10 quality-of-care metrics, including cancer screenings and vaccination rates.

But definitive evidence remains elusive that replacing ER doctors with nonphysicians has a negative impact on patients, said Cameron Gettel, MD, an assistant professor of emergency medicine at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Private equity investment and the use of midlevel practitioners rose in lockstep in the ED, Dr. Gettel said, and in the absence of game-changing research, the pattern will likely continue.

“Worse patient outcomes haven’t really been shown across the board,” he said. “And I think until that is shown, then they will continue to play an increasing role.”
 

For private equity, dropping ED docs is a “simple equation”

Private equity companies pool money from wealthy investors to buy their way into various industries, often slashing spending and seeking to flip businesses in 3 to 7 years. While this business model is a proven moneymaker on Wall Street, it raises concerns in health care, where critics worry the pressure to turn big profits will influence life-or-death decisions that were once left solely to medical professionals.

Nearly $1 trillion in private equity funds have gone into almost 8,000 health care transactions over the past decade, according to industry tracker PitchBook, including buying into medical staffing companies that many hospitals hire to manage their emergency departments.

Two firms dominate the ED staffing industry: TeamHealth, bought by private equity firm Blackstone in 2016, and Envision Healthcare, bought by KKR in 2018. Trying to undercut these staffing giants is American Physician Partners, a rapidly expanding company that runs EDs in at least 17 states and is 50% owned by private equity firm BBH Capital Partners.

These staffing companies have been among the most aggressive in replacing doctors to cut costs, said Robert McNamara, MD, a founder of the American Academy of Emergency Medicine and chair of emergency medicine at Temple University, Philadelphia.

“It’s a relatively simple equation,” Dr. McNamara said. “Their No. 1 expense is the board-certified emergency physician. So they are going to want to keep that expense as low as possible.”

Not everyone sees the trend of private equity in ED staffing in a negative light. Jennifer Orozco, president of the American Academy of Physician Associates, which represents physician assistants, said even if the change – to use more nonphysician providers – is driven by the staffing firms’ desire to make more money, patients are still well served by a team approach that includes nurse practitioners and physician assistants.

“Though I see that shift, it’s not about profits at the end of the day,” Ms. Orozco said. “It’s about the patient.”

The “shift” is nearly invisible to patients because hospitals rarely promote branding from their ED staffing firms and there is little public documentation of private equity investments.

Arthur Smolensky, MD, a Tennessee emergency medicine specialist attempting to measure private equity’s intrusion into EDs, said his review of hospital job postings and employment contracts in 14 major metropolitan areas found that 43% of ED patients were seen in EDs staffed by companies with nonphysician owners, nearly all of whom are private equity investors.

Dr. Smolensky hopes to publish his full study, expanding to 55 metro areas, later this year. But this research will merely quantify what many doctors already know: The ED has changed. Demoralized by an increased focus on profit, and wary of a looming surplus of emergency medicine residents because there are fewer jobs to fill, many experienced doctors are leaving the ED on their own, he said.

“Most of us didn’t go into medicine to supervise an army of people that are not as well trained as we are,” Dr. Smolensky said. “We want to take care of patients.”
 

“I guess we’re the first guinea pigs for our ER”

Joshua Allen, a nurse practitioner at a small Kentucky hospital, snaked a rubber hose through a rack of pork ribs to practice inserting a chest tube to fix a collapsed lung.

It was 2020, and American Physician Partners was restructuring the ED where Mr. Allen worked, reducing shifts from two doctors to one. Once Mr. Allen had placed 10 tubes under a doctor’s supervision, he would be allowed to do it on his own.

“I guess we’re the first guinea pigs for our ER,” he said. “If we do have a major trauma and multiple victims come in, there’s only one doctor there. ... We need to be prepared.”

Mr. Allen is one of many midlevel practitioners finding work in emergency departments. Nurse practitioners and physician assistants are among the fastest-growing occupations in the nation, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Generally, they have master’s degrees and receive several years of specialized schooling but have significantly less training than doctors. Many are permitted to diagnose patients and prescribe medication with little or no supervision from a doctor, although limitations vary by state.

The Neiman Institute found that the share of ED visits in which a midlevel practitioner was the main clinician increased by more than 172% between 2005 and 2020. Another study, in the Journal of Emergency Medicine, reported that if trends continue there may be equal numbers of midlevel practitioners and doctors in EDs by 2030.

There is little mystery as to why. Federal data shows emergency medicine doctors are paid about $310,000 a year on average, while nurse practitioners and physician assistants earn less than $120,000. Generally, hospitals can bill for care by a midlevel practitioner at 85% the rate of a doctor while paying them less than half as much.

Private equity can make millions in the gap.

For example, Envision once encouraged EDs to employ “the least expensive resource” and treat up to 35% of patients with midlevel practitioners, according to a 2017 PowerPoint presentation. The presentation drew scorn on social media and disappeared from Envision’s website.

Envision declined a request for a phone interview. In a written statement to KHN, spokesperson Aliese Polk said the company does not direct its physician leaders on how to care for patients and called the presentation a “concept guide” that does not represent current views.

American Physician Partners touted roughly the same staffing strategy in 2021 in response to the No Surprises Act, which threatened the company’s profits by outlawing surprise medical bills. In its confidential pitch to lenders, the company estimated it could cut almost $6 million by shifting more staffing from physicians to midlevel practitioners.

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.

In May 2021, a nurse at UnitedHealthcare called a colleague to share some welcome news about a problem the two had been grappling with for weeks.

United provided the health insurance plan for students at Penn State University. It was a large and potentially lucrative account: lots of young, healthy students paying premiums in, not too many huge medical reimbursements going out.

But one student was costing United a lot of money. Christopher McNaughton suffered from a crippling case of ulcerative colitis – an ailment that caused him to develop severe arthritis, debilitating diarrhea, numbing fatigue, and life-threatening blood clots. His medical bills were running nearly $2 million a year.

United had flagged Mr. McNaughton’s case as a “high dollar account,” and the company was reviewing whether it needed to keep paying for the expensive cocktail of drugs crafted by a Mayo Clinic specialist that had brought Mr. McNaughton’s disease under control after he’d been through years of misery.

On the 2021 phone call, which was recorded by the company, nurse Victoria Kavanaugh told her colleague that a doctor contracted by United to review the case had concluded that Mr. McNaughton’s treatment was “not medically necessary.” Her colleague, Dave Opperman, reacted to the news with a long laugh.

“I knew that was coming,” said Mr. Opperman, who heads up a United subsidiary that brokered the health insurance contract between United and Penn State. “I did too,” Ms. Kavanaugh replied.

Mr. Opperman then complained about Mr. McNaughton’s mother, whom he referred to as “this woman,” for “screaming and yelling” and “throwing tantrums” during calls with United.

The pair agreed that any appeal of the United doctor’s denial of the treatment would be a waste of the family’s time and money.

“We’re still gonna say no,” Mr. Opperman said.

More than 200 million Americans are covered by private health insurance. But data from state and federal regulators shows that insurers reject about 1 in 7 claims for treatment. Many people, faced with fighting insurance companies, simply give up: One study found that Americans file formal appeals on only 0.1% of claims denied by insurers under the Affordable Care Act.

Insurers have wide discretion in crafting what is covered by their policies, beyond some basic services mandated by federal and state law. They often deny claims for services that they deem not “medically necessary.”

When United refused to pay for Mr. McNaughton’s treatment for that reason, his family did something unusual. They fought back with a lawsuit, which uncovered a trove of materials, including internal emails and tape-recorded exchanges among company employees. Those records offer an extraordinary behind-the-scenes look at how one of America’s leading health care insurers relentlessly fought to reduce spending on care, even as its profits rose to record levels.

As United reviewed Mr. McNaughton’s treatment, he and his family were often in the dark about what was happening or their rights. Meanwhile, United employees misrepresented critical findings and ignored warnings from doctors about the risks of altering Mr. McNaughton’s drug plan.

At one point, court records show, United inaccurately reported to Penn State and the family that Mr. McNaughton’s doctor had agreed to lower the doses of his medication. Another time, a doctor paid by United concluded that denying payments for Mr. McNaughton’s treatment could put his health at risk, but the company buried his report and did not consider its findings. The insurer did, however, consider a report submitted by a company doctor who rubber-stamped the recommendation of a United nurse to reject paying for the treatment.

United declined to answer specific questions about the case, even after Mr. McNaughton signed a release provided by the insurer to allow it to discuss details of his interactions with the company. United noted that it ultimately paid for all of Mr. McNaughton’s treatments. In a written response, United spokesperson Maria Gordon Shydlo wrote that the company’s guiding concern was Mr. McNaughton’s well-being.

“Mr. McNaughton’s treatment involves medication dosages that far exceed [Food and Drug Administration] guidelines,” the statement said. “In cases like this, we review treatment plans based on current clinical guidelines to help ensure patient safety.”

But the records reviewed by ProPublica show that United had another, equally urgent goal in dealing with Mr. McNaughton. In emails, officials calculated what Mr. McNaughton was costing them to keep his crippling disease at bay and how much they would save if they forced him to undergo a cheaper treatment that had already failed him. As the family pressed the company to back down, first through Penn State and then through a lawsuit, the United officials handling the case bristled.

“This is just unbelievable,” Ms. Kavanaugh said of Mr. McNaughton’s family in one call to discuss his case. ”They’re just really pushing the envelope, and I’m surprised, like I don’t even know what to say.”
 

The same meal every day

Now 31, Mr. McNaughton grew up in State College, Pa., just blocks from the Penn State campus. Both of his parents are faculty members at the university.

In the winter of 2014, Mr. McNaughton was halfway through his junior year at Bard College in New York. At 6 feet, 4 inches tall, he was a guard on the basketball team and had started most of the team’s games since the start of his sophomore year. He was majoring in psychology.

When Mr. McNaughton returned to school after the winter holiday break, he started to experience frequent bouts of bloody diarrhea. After just a few days on campus, he went home to State College, where doctors diagnosed him with a severe case of ulcerative colitis.

A chronic inflammatory bowel disease that causes swelling and ulcers in the digestive tract, ulcerative colitis has no cure, and ongoing treatment is needed to alleviate symptoms and prevent serious health complications. The majority of cases produce mild to moderate symptoms. Mr. McNaughton’s case was severe.

Treatments for ulcerative colitis include steroids and special drugs known as biologics that work to reduce inflammation in the large intestine.

Mr. McNaughton, however, failed to get meaningful relief from the drugs his doctors initially prescribed. He was experiencing bloody diarrhea up to 20 times a day, with such severe stomach pain that he spent much of his day curled up on a couch. He had little appetite and lost 50 pounds. Severe anemia left him fatigued. He suffered from other conditions related to his colitis, including crippling arthritis. He was hospitalized several times to treat dangerous blood clots.

For 2 years, in an effort to help alleviate his symptoms, he ate the same meals every day: Rice Chex cereal and scrambled eggs for breakfast, a cup of white rice with plain chicken breast for lunch, and a similar meal for dinner, occasionally swapping in tilapia.

His hometown doctors referred him to a specialist at the University of Pittsburgh, who tried unsuccessfully to bring his disease under control. That doctor ended up referring Mr. McNaughton to Edward V. Loftus Jr., MD, at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., which has been ranked as the best gastroenterology hospital in the country every year since 1990 by U.S. News & World Report.

For his first visit with Dr. Loftus in May 2015, Mr. McNaughton and his mother, Janice Light, charted hospitals along the 900-mile drive from Pennsylvania to Minnesota in case they needed medical help along the way.

Mornings were the hardest. Mr. McNaughton often spent several hours in the bathroom at the start of the day. To prepare for his meeting with Dr. Loftus, he set his alarm for 3:30 a.m. so he could be ready for the 7:30 a.m. appointment. Even with that preparation, he had to stop twice to use a bathroom on the 5-minute walk from the hotel to the clinic. When they met, Dr. Loftus looked at Mr. McNaughton and told him that he appeared incapacitated. It was, he told the student, as if Mr. McNaughton were chained to the bathroom, with no outside life. He had not been able to return to school and spent most days indoors, managing his symptoms as best he could.

Mr. McNaughton had tried a number of medications by this point, none of which worked. This pattern would repeat itself during the first couple of years that Dr. Loftus treated him.

In addition to trying to find a treatment that would bring Mr. McNaughton’s colitis into remission, Dr. Loftus wanted to wean him off the steroid prednisone, which he had been taking since his initial diagnosis in 2014. The drug is commonly prescribed to colitis patients to control inflammation, but prolonged use can lead to severe side effects including cataracts, osteoporosis, increased risk of infection, and fatigue. Mr. McNaughton also experienced “moon face,” a side effect caused by the shifting of fat deposits that results in the face becoming puffy and rounder.

In 2018, Dr. Loftus and Mr. McNaughton decided to try an unusual regimen. Many patients with inflammatory bowel diseases such as colitis take a single biologic drug as treatment. Whereas traditional drugs are chemically synthesized, biologics are manufactured in living systems, such as plant or animal cells. A year’s supply of an individual biologic drug can cost up to $500,000. They are often given through infusions in a medical facility, which adds to the cost.

Mr. McNaughton had tried individual biologics, and then two in combination, without much success. He and Dr. Loftus then agreed to try two biologic drugs together at doses well above those recommended by the Food and Drug Administration. The federal Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality estimates one in five prescriptions written today are for off-label uses.

There are drawbacks to the practice. Since some uses and doses of particular drugs have not been extensively studied, the risks and efficacy of using them off-label are not well known. Also, some drug manufacturers have improperly pushed off-label usage of their products to boost sales despite little or no evidence to support their use in those situations. Like many leading experts and researchers in his field, Dr. Loftus has been paid to do consulting related to the biologic drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton. The payments related to those drugs have ranged from a total of $1,440 in 2020 to $51,235 in 2018. Dr. Loftus said much of his work with pharmaceutical companies was related to conducting clinical trials on new drugs.

In cases of off-label prescribing, patients are depending upon their doctors’ expertise and experience with the drug. “In this case, I was comfortable that the potential benefits to Chris outweighed the risks,” Dr. Loftus said.

There was evidence that the treatment plan for Mr. McNaughton might work, including studies that had found dual biologic therapy to be efficacious and safe. The two drugs he takes, Entyvio and Remicade, have the same purpose – to reduce inflammation in the large intestine – but each works differently in the body. Remicade, marketed by Janssen Biotech, targets a protein that causes inflammation. Entyvio, made by Takeda Pharmaceuticals, works by preventing an excess of white blood cells from entering into the gastrointestinal tract.

As for any suggestion by United doctors that his treatment plan for Mr. McNaughton was out of bounds or dangerous, Dr. Loftus said “my treatment of Chris was not clinically inappropriate – as was shown by Chris’ positive outcome.”

The unusual high-dose combination of two biologic drugs produced a remarkable change in Mr. McNaughton. He no longer had blood in his stool, and his trips to the bathroom were cut from 20 times a day to 3 or 4. He was able to eat different foods and put on weight. He had more energy. He tapered off prednisone.

“If you told me in 2015 that I would be living like this, I would have asked where do I sign up,” Mr. McNaughton said of the change he experienced with the new drug regimen.

When he first started the new treatment, Mr. McNaughton was covered under his family’s plan, and all his bills were paid. Mr. McNaughton enrolled at the university in 2020. Before switching to United’s plan for students, Mr. McNaughton and his parents consulted with a health advocacy service offered to faculty members. A benefits specialist assured them the drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton would be covered by United.

Mr. McNaughton joined the student plan in July 2020, and his infusions that month and the following month were paid for by United. In September, the insurer indicated payment on his claims was “pending,” something it did for his other claims that came in during the rest of the year.

Mr. McNaughton and his family were worried. They called United to make sure there wasn’t a problem; the insurer told them, they said, that it only needed to check his medical records. When the family called again, United told them it had the documentation needed, they said. United, in a court filing last year, said it received two calls from the family and each time indicated that all of the necessary medical records had not yet been received.

In January 2021, Mr. McNaughton received a new explanation of benefits for the prior months. All of the claims for his care, beginning in September, were no longer “pending.” They were stamped “DENIED.” The total outstanding bill for his treatment was $807,086.

When Mr. McNaughton’s mother reached a United customer service representative the next day to ask why bills that had been paid in the summer were being denied for the fall, the representative told her the account was being reviewed because of “a high dollar amount on the claims,” according to a recording of the call.


 

Misrepresentations

With United refusing to pay, the family was terrified of being stuck with medical bills that would bankrupt them and deprive Mr. McNaughton of treatment that they considered miraculous.

They turned to Penn State for help. Ms. Light and Mr. McNaughton’s father, David McNaughton, hoped their position as faculty members would make the school more willing to intervene on their behalf.

“After more than 30 years on faculty, my husband and I know that this is not how Penn State would want its students to be treated,” Ms. Light wrote to a school official in February 2021.

In response to questions from ProPublica, Penn State spokesperson Lisa Powers wrote that “supporting the health and well-being of our students is always of primary importance” and that “our hearts go out to any student and family impacted by a serious medical condition.” The university, she wrote, does “not comment on students’ individual circumstances or disclose information from their records.” Mr. McNaughton offered to grant Penn State whatever permissions it needed to speak about his case with ProPublica. The school, however, wrote that it would not comment “even if confidentiality has been waived.”

The family appealed to school administrators. Because the effectiveness of biologics wanes in some patients if doses are skipped, Mr. McNaughton and his parents were worried about even a delay in treatment. His doctor wrote that if he missed scheduled infusions of the drugs, there was “a high likelihood they would no longer be effective.”

During a conference call arranged by Penn State officials on March 5, 2021, United agreed to pay for Mr. McNaughton’s care through the end of the plan year that August. Penn State immediately notified the family of the “wonderful news” while also apologizing for “the stress this has caused Chris and your family.”

Behind the scenes, Mr. McNaughton’s review had “gone all the way to the top” at United’s student health plan division, Ms. Kavanaugh, the nurse, said in a recorded conversation.

The family’s relief was short-lived. A month later, United started another review of Mr. McNaughton’s care, overseen by Ms. Kavanaugh, to determine if it would pay for the treatment in the upcoming plan year.

The nurse sent the Mr. McNaughton case to a company called Medical Review Institute of America. Insurers often turn to companies like MRIoA to review coverage decisions involving expensive treatments or specialized care.

Ms. Kavanaugh, who was assigned to a special investigations unit at United, let her feelings about the matter be known in a recorded telephone call with a representative of MRIoA.

“This school apparently is a big client of ours,” she said. She then shared her opinion of Mr. McNaughton’s treatment. “Really this is a case of a kid who’s getting a drug way too much, like too much of a dose,” Ms. Kavanaugh said. She said it was “insane that they would even think that this is reasonable” and “to be honest with you, they’re awfully pushy considering that we are paying through the end of this school year.”

On a call with an outside contractor, the United nurse claimed Mr. McNaughton was on a higher dose of medication than the FDA approved, which is a common practice.

MRIoA sent the case to Vikas Pabby, MD, a gastroenterologist at UCLA Health and a professor at the university’s medical school. His May 2021 review of Mr. McNaughton’s case was just one of more than 300 Dr. Pabby did for MRIoA that month, for which he was paid $23,000 in total, according to a log of his work produced in the lawsuit.

In a May 4, 2021, report, Dr. Pabby concluded Mr. McNaughton’s treatment was not medically necessary, because United’s policies for the two drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton did not support using them in combination.

Insurers spell out what services they cover in plan policies, lengthy documents that can be confusing and difficult to understand. Many policies, such as Mr. McNaughton’s, contain a provision that treatments and procedures must be “medically necessary” in order to be covered. The definition of medically necessary differs by plan. Some don’t even define the term. Mr. McNaughton’s policy contains a five-part definition, including that the treatment must be “in accordance with the standards of good medical policy” and “the most appropriate supply or level of service which can be safely provided.”

Behind the scenes at United, Mr. Opperman and Ms. Kavanaugh agreed that if Mr. McNaughton were to appeal Dr. Pabby’s decision, the insurer would simply rule against him. “I just think it’s a waste of money and time to appeal and send it to another one when we know we’re gonna get the same answer,” Mr. Opperman said, according to a recording in court files. At Mr. Opperman’s urging, United decided to skip the usual appeals process and arrange for Dr. Pabby to have a so-called “peer-to-peer” discussion with Dr. Loftus, the Mayo physician treating Mr. McNaughton. Such a conversation, in which a patient’s doctor talks with an insurance company’s doctor to advocate for the prescribed treatment, usually occurs only after a customer has appealed a denial and the appeal has been rejected.

When Ms. Kavanaugh called Dr. Loftus’ office to set up a conversation with Dr. Pabby, she explained it was an urgent matter and had been requested by Mr. McNaughton. “You know I’ve just gotten to know Christopher,” she explained, although she had never spoken with him. “We’re trying to advocate and help and get this peer-to-peer set up.”

Mr. McNaughton, meanwhile, had no idea at the time that a United doctor had decided his treatment was unnecessary and that the insurer was trying to set up a phone call with his physician.

In the peer-to-peer conversation, Dr. Loftus told Dr. Pabby that Mr. McNaughton had “a very complicated case” and that lower doses had not worked for him, according to an internal MRIoA memo.

Following his conversation with Dr. Loftus, Dr. Pabby created a second report for United. He recommended the insurer pay for both drugs, but at reduced doses. He added new language saying that the safety of using both drugs at the higher levels “is not established.”

When Ms. Kavanaugh shared the May 12 decision from Dr. Pabby with others at United, her boss responded with an email calling it “great news.”

Then Mr. Opperman sent an email that puzzled the McNaughtons.

In it, Mr. Opperman claimed that Dr. Loftus and Dr. Pabby had agreed that Mr. McNaughton should be on significantly lower doses of both drugs. He said Dr. Loftus “will work with the patient to start titrating them down to a normal dose range.” Mr. Opperman wrote that United would cover Mr. McNaughton’s treatment in the coming year, but only at the reduced doses. Mr. Opperman did not respond to emails and phone messages seeking comment.

Mr. McNaughton didn’t believe a word of it. He had already tried and failed treatment with those drugs at lower doses, and it was Dr. Loftus who had upped the doses, leading to his remission from severe colitis.

The only thing that made sense to Mr. McNaughton was that the treatment United said it would now pay for was dramatically cheaper – saving the company at least hundreds of thousands of dollars a year – than his prescribed treatment because it sliced the size of the doses by more than half.

When the family contacted Dr. Loftus for an explanation, they were outraged by what they heard. Dr. Loftus told them that he had never recommended lowering the dosage. In a letter, Dr. Loftus wrote that changing Mr. McNaughton’s treatment “would have serious detrimental effects on both his short term and long term health and could potentially involve life threatening complications. This would ultimately incur far greater medical costs. Chris was on the doses suggested by United Healthcare before, and they were not at all effective.”

It would not be until the lawsuit that it would become clear how Dr. Loftus’ conversations had been so seriously misrepresented.

Under questioning by Mr. McNaughton’s lawyers, Ms. Kavanaugh acknowledged that she was the source of the incorrect claim that Mr. McNaughton’s doctor had agreed to a change in treatment.

“I incorrectly made an assumption that they had come to some sort of agreement,” she said in a deposition last August. “It was my first peer-to-peer. I did not realize that that simply does not occur.”

Ms. Kavanaugh did not respond to emails and telephone messages seeking comment.

When the McNaughtons first learned of Mr. Opperman’s inaccurate report of the phone call with Dr. Loftus, it unnerved them. They started to question if their case would be fairly reviewed.

“When we got the denial and they lied about what Dr. Loftus said, it just hit me that none of this matters,” Mr. McNaughton said. “They will just say or do anything to get rid of me. It delegitimized the entire review process. When I got that denial, I was crushed.”


 

A buried report

While the family tried to sort out the inaccurate report, United continued putting the McNaughton case in front of more company doctors.

On May 21, 2021, United sent the case to one of its own doctors, Nady Cates, MD, for an additional review. The review was marked “escalated issue.” Dr. Cates is a United medical director, a title used by many insurers for physicians who review cases. It is work he has been doing as an employee of health insurers since 1989 and at United since 2010. He has not practiced medicine since the early 1990s.

Dr. Cates, in a deposition, said he stopped seeing patients because of the long hours involved and because “AIDS was coming around then. I was seeing a lot of military folks who had venereal diseases, and I guess I was concerned about being exposed.” He transitioned to reviewing paperwork for the insurance industry, he said, because “I guess I was a chicken.”

When he had practiced, Dr. Cates said, he hadn’t treated patients with ulcerative colitis and had referred those cases to a gastroenterologist.

He said his review of Mr. McNaughton’s case primarily involved reading a United nurse’s recommendation to deny his care and making sure “that there wasn’t a decimal place that was out of line.” He said he copied and pasted the nurse’s recommendation and typed “agree” on his review of Mr. McNaughton’s case.

Dr. Cates said that he does about a hundred reviews a week. He said that in his reviews he typically checks to see if any medications are prescribed in accordance with the insurer’s guidelines, and if not, he denies it. United’s policies, he said, prevented him from considering that Mr. McNaughton had failed other treatments or that Dr. Loftus was a leading expert in his field.

“You are giving zero weight to the treating doctor’s opinion on the necessity of the treatment regimen?” a lawyer asked Dr. Cates in his deposition. He responded, “Yeah.”

Attempts to contact Dr. Cates for comment were unsuccessful.

At the same time Dr. Cates was looking at Mr. McNaughton’s case, yet another review was underway at MRIoA. United said it sent the case back to MRIoA after the insurer received the letter from Dr. Loftus warning of the life-threatening complications that might occur if the dosages were reduced.

On May 24, 2021, the new report requested by MRIoA arrived. It came to a completely different conclusion than all of the previous reviews.

Nitin Kumar, MD, a gastroenterologist in Illinois, concluded that Mr. McNaughton’s established treatment plan was not only medically necessary and appropriate but that lowering his doses “can result in a lack of effective therapy of Ulcerative Colitis, with complications of uncontrolled disease (including dysplasia leading to colorectal cancer), flare, hospitalization, need for surgery, and toxic megacolon.”

Unlike other doctors who produced reports for United, Dr. Kumar discussed the harm that Mr. McNaughton might suffer if United required him to change his treatment. “His disease is significantly severe, with diagnosis at a young age,” Dr. Kumar wrote. “He has failed every biologic medication class recommended by guidelines. Therefore, guidelines can no longer be applied in this case.” He cited six studies of patients using two biologic drugs together and wrote that they revealed no significant safety issues and found the therapy to be “broadly successful.”

When Ms. Kavanaugh learned of Dr. Kumar’s report, she quickly moved to quash it and get the case returned to Dr. Pabby, according to her deposition.

In a recorded telephone call, Ms. Kavanaugh told an MRIoA representative that “I had asked that this go back through Dr. Pabby, and it went through a different doctor and they had a much different result.” After further discussion, the MRIoA representative agreed to send the case back to Dr. Pabby. “I appreciate that,” Ms. Kavanaugh replied. “I just want to make sure, because, I mean, it’s obviously a very different result than what we’ve been getting on this case.”

MRIoA case notes show that at 7:04 a.m. on May 25, 2021, Dr. Pabby was assigned to take a look at the case for the third time. At 7:27 a.m., the notes indicate, Dr. Pabby again rejected Mr. McNaughton’s treatment plan. While noting it was “difficult to control” Mr. McNaughton’s ulcerative colitis, Dr. Pabby added that his doses “far exceed what is approved by literature” and that the “safety of the requested doses is not supported by literature.”

In a deposition, Ms. Kavanaugh said that after she opened the Kumar report and read that he was supporting Mr. McNaughton’s current treatment plan, she immediately spoke to her supervisor, who told her to call MRIoA and have the case sent back to Dr. Pabby for review.

Ms. Kavanaugh said she didn’t save a copy of the Kumar report, nor did she forward it to anyone at United or to officials at Penn State who had been inquiring about the McNaughton case. “I didn’t because it shouldn’t have existed,” she said. “It should have gone back to Dr. Pabby.”

When asked if the Kumar report caused her any concerns given his warning that Mr. McNaughton risked cancer or hospitalization if his regimen were changed, Ms. Kavanaugh said she didn’t read his full report. “I saw that it was not the correct doctor, I saw the initial outcome and I was asked to send it back,” she said. Ms. Kavanaugh added, “I have a lot of empathy for this member, but it needed to go back to the peer-to-peer reviewer.”

In a court filing, United said Ms. Kavanaugh was correct in insisting that Dr. Pabby conduct the review and that MRIoA confirmed that Dr. Pabby should have been the one doing the review.

The Kumar report was not provided to Mr. McNaughton when his lawyer, Jonathan M. Gesk, first asked United and MRIoA for any reviews of the case. Mr. Gesk discovered it by accident when he was listening to a recorded telephone call produced by United in which Ms. Kavanaugh mentioned a report number Mr. Gesk had not heard before. He then called MRIoA, which confirmed the report existed and eventually provided it to him.

Dr. Pabby asked ProPublica to direct any questions about his involvement in the matter to MRIoA. The company did not respond to questions from ProPublica about the case.
 

A sense of hopelessness

When Mr. McNaughton enrolled at Penn State in 2020, it brought a sense of normalcy that he had lost when he was first diagnosed with colitis. He still needed monthly hours-long infusions and suffered occasional flare-ups and symptoms, but he was attending classes in person and living a life similar to the one he had before his diagnosis.

It was a striking contrast to the previous 6 years, which he had spent largely confined to his parents’ house in State College. The frequent bouts of diarrhea made it difficult to go out. He didn’t talk much to friends and spent as much time as he could studying potential treatments and reviewing ongoing clinical trials. He tried to keep up with the occasional online course, but his disease made it difficult to make any real progress toward a degree.

United, in correspondence with Mr. McNaughton, noted that its review of his care was “not a treatment decision. Treatment decisions are made between you and your physician.” But by threatening not to pay for his medications, or only to pay for a different regimen, Mr. McNaughton said, United was in fact attempting to dictate his treatment. From his perspective, the insurer was playing doctor, making decisions without ever examining him or even speaking to him.

The idea of changing his treatment or stopping it altogether caused constant worry for Mr. McNaughton, exacerbating his colitis and triggering physical symptoms, according to his doctors. Those included a large ulcer on his leg and welts under his skin on his thighs and shin that made his leg muscles stiff and painful to the point where he couldn’t bend his leg or walk properly. There were daily migraines and severe stomach pain. “I was consumed with this situation,” Mr. McNaughton said. “My path was unconventional, but I was proud of myself for fighting back and finishing school and getting my life back on track. I thought they were singling me out. My biggest fear was going back to the hell.”

Mr. McNaughton said he contemplated suicide on several occasions, dreading a return to a life where he was housebound or hospitalized.

Mr. McNaughton and his parents talked about his possibly moving to Canada where his grandmother lived and seeking treatment there under the nation’s government health plan.

Dr. Loftus connected Mr. McNaughton with a psychologist who specializes in helping patients with chronic digestive diseases.

The psychologist, Tiffany Taft, PsyD, said Mr. McNaughton was not an unusual case. About one in three patients with diseases like colitis suffer from medical trauma or PTSD related to it, she said, often the result of issues related to getting appropriate treatment approved by insurers.

“You get into hopelessness,” she said of the depression that accompanies fighting with insurance companies over care. “They feel like ‘I can’t fix that. I am screwed.’ When you can’t control things with what an insurance company is doing, anxiety, PTSD and depression get mixed together.”

In the case of Mr. McNaughton, Dr. Taft said, he was being treated by one of the best gastroenterologists in the world, was doing well with his treatment, and then was suddenly notified he might be on the hook for nearly a million dollars in medical charges without access to his medications. “It sends you immediately into panic about all these horrific things that could happen,” Dr. Taft said. The physical and mental symptoms Mr. McNaughton suffered after his care was threatened were “triggered” by the stress he experienced, she said.

In early June 2021, United informed Mr. McNaughton in a letter that it would not cover the cost of his treatment regimen in the next academic year, starting in August. The insurer said it would pay only for a treatment plan that called for a significant reduction in the doses of the drugs he took.

United wrote that the decision came after his “records have been reviewed three times and the medical reviewers have concluded that the medication as prescribed does not meet the Medical Necessity requirement of the plan.”

In August 2021, Mr. McNaughton filed a federal lawsuit accusing United of acting in bad faith and unreasonably making treatment decisions based on financial concerns and not what was the best and most effective treatment. It claims United had a duty to find information that supported Mr. McNaughton’s claim for treatment rather than looking for ways to deny coverage.

United, in a court filing, said it did not breach any duty it owed to Mr. McNaughton and acted in good faith. On Sept. 20, 2021, a month after filing the lawsuit, and with United again balking at paying for his treatment, Mr. McNaughton asked a judge to grant a temporary restraining order requiring United to pay for his care. With the looming threat of a court hearing on the motion, United quickly agreed to cover the cost of Mr. McNaughton’s treatment through the end of the 2021-2022 academic year. It also dropped a demand requiring Mr. McNaughton to settle the matter as a condition of the insurer paying for his treatment as prescribed by Dr. Loftus, according to an email sent by United’s lawyer.
 

The cost of treatment

It is not surprising that insurers are carefully scrutinizing the care of patients treated with biologics, which are among the most expensive medications on the market. Biologics are considered specialty drugs, a class that includes the best-selling Humira, used to treat arthritis. Specialty drug spending in the United States is expected to reach $505 billion in 2023, according to an estimate from Optum, United’s health services division. The Institute for Clinical and Economic Review, a nonprofit that analyzes the value of drugs, found in 2020 that the biologic drugs used to treat patients like Mr. McNaughton are often effective but overpriced for their therapeutic benefit. To be judged cost-effective by ICER, the biologics should sell at a steep discount to their current market price, the panel found.

A panel convened by ICER to review its analysis cautioned that insurance coverage “should be structured to prevent situations in which patients are forced to choose a treatment approach on the basis of cost.” ICER also found examples where insurance company policies failed to keep pace with updates to clinical practice guidelines based on emerging research.

United officials did not make the cost of treatment an issue when discussing Mr. McNaughton’s care with Penn State administrators or the family.

Bill Truxal, the president of UnitedHealthcare StudentResources, the company’s student health plan division, told a Penn State official that the insurer wanted the “best for the student” and it had “nothing to do with cost,” according to notes the official took of the conversation.

Behind the scenes, however, the price of Mr. McNaughton’s care was front and center at United.

In one email, Mr. Opperman asked about the cost difference if the insurer insisted on paying only for greatly reduced doses of the biologic drugs. Ms. Kavanaugh responded that the insurer had paid $1.1 million in claims for Mr. McNaughton’s care as of the middle of May 2021. If the reduced doses had been in place, the amount would have been cut to $260,218, she wrote.

United was keeping close tabs on Mr. McNaughton at the highest levels of the company. On Aug. 2, 2021, Mr. Opperman notified Mr. Truxal and a United lawyer that Mr. McNaughton “has just purchased the plan again for the 21-22 school year.”

A month later, Ms. Kavanaugh shared another calculation with United executives showing that the insurer spent over $1.7 million on Mr. McNaughton in the prior plan year.

United officials strategized about how to best explain why it was reviewing Mr. McNaughton’s drug regimen, according to an internal email. They pointed to a justification often used by health insurers when denying claims. “As the cost of healthcare continues to climb to soaring heights, it has been determined that a judicious review of these drugs should be included” in order to “make healthcare more affordable for our members,” Ms. Kavanaugh offered as a potential talking point in an April 23, 2021, email.

Three days later, UnitedHealth Group filed an annual statement with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission disclosing its pay for top executives in the prior year. Then-CEO David Wichmann was paid $17.9 million in salary and other compensation in 2020. Wichmann retired early the following year, and his total compensation that year exceeded $140 million, according to calculations in a compensation database maintained by the Star Tribune in Minneapolis. The newspaper said the amount was the most paid to an executive in the state since it started tracking pay more than 2 decades ago. About $110 million of that total came from Wichmann exercising stock options accumulated during his stewardship.

The McNaughtons were well aware of the financial situation at United. They looked at publicly available financial results and annual reports. Last year, United reported a profit of $20.1 billion on revenues of $324.2 billion.

When discussing the case with Penn State, Ms. Light said, she told university administrators that United could pay for a year of her son’s treatment using just minutes’ worth of profit.
 

‘Betrayed’

Mr. McNaughton has been able to continue receiving his infusions for now, anyway. In October, United notified him it was once again reviewing his care, although the insurer quickly reversed course when his lawyer intervened. United, in a court filing, said the review was a mistake and that it had erred in putting Mr. McNaughton’s claims into pending status.

Mr. McNaughton said he is fortunate his parents were employed at the same school he was attending, which was critical in getting the attention of administrators there. But that help had its limits.

In June 2021, just a week after United told Mr. McNaughton it would not cover his treatment plan in the upcoming plan year, Penn State essentially walked away from the matter.

In an email to the McNaughtons and United, Penn State Associate Vice President for Student Affairs Andrea Dowhower wrote that administrators “have observed an unfortunate breakdown in communication” between Mr. McNaughton and his family and the university health insurance plan, “which appears from our perspective to have resulted in a standstill between the two parties.” While she proposed some potential steps to help settle the matter, she wrote that “Penn State’s role in this process is as a resource for students like Chris who, for whatever reason, have experienced difficulty navigating the complex world of health insurance.” The university’s role “is limited,” she wrote, and the school “simply must leave” the issue of the best treatment for Mr. McNaughton to “the appropriate health care professionals.”

In a statement, a Penn State spokesperson wrote that “as a third party in this arrangement, the University’s role is limited and Penn State officials can only help a student manage an issue based on information that a student/family, medical personnel, and/or insurance provider give – with the hope that all information is accurate and that the lines of communication remain open between the insured and the insurer.”

Penn State declined to provide financial information about the plan. However, the university and United share at least one tie that they have not publicly disclosed.

When the McNaughtons first reached out to the university for help, they were referred to the school’s student health insurance coordinator. The official, Heather Klinger, wrote in an email to the family in February 2021 that “I appreciate your trusting me to resolve this for you.”

In April 2022, United began paying Ms. Klinger’s salary, an arrangement which is not noted on the university website. Ms. Klinger appears in the online staff directory on the Penn State University Health Services web page, and has a university phone number, a university address, and a Penn State email listed as her contact. The school said she has maintained a part-time status with the university to allow her to access relevant data systems at both the university and United.

The university said students “benefit” from having a United employee to handle questions about insurance coverage and that the arrangement is “not uncommon” for student health plans.

The family was dismayed to learn that Ms. Klinger was now a full-time employee of United.

“We did feel betrayed,” Ms. Light said. Ms. Klinger did not respond to an email seeking comment.

Mr. McNaughton’s fight to maintain his treatment regimen has come at a cost of time, debilitating stress, and depression. “My biggest fear is realizing I might have to do this every year of my life,” he said.

Mr. McNaughton said one motivation for his lawsuit was to expose how insurers like United make decisions about what care they will pay for and what they will not. The case remains pending, a court docket shows.

He has been accepted to Penn State’s law school. He hopes to become a health care lawyer working for patients who find themselves in situations similar to his.

He plans to re-enroll in the United health care plan when he starts school next fall.

This story was originally published on ProPublica. ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up to receive the biggest stories as soon as they’re published.

In May 2021, a nurse at UnitedHealthcare called a colleague to share some welcome news about a problem the two had been grappling with for weeks.

United provided the health insurance plan for students at Penn State University. It was a large and potentially lucrative account: lots of young, healthy students paying premiums in, not too many huge medical reimbursements going out.

But one student was costing United a lot of money. Christopher McNaughton suffered from a crippling case of ulcerative colitis – an ailment that caused him to develop severe arthritis, debilitating diarrhea, numbing fatigue, and life-threatening blood clots. His medical bills were running nearly $2 million a year.

United had flagged Mr. McNaughton’s case as a “high dollar account,” and the company was reviewing whether it needed to keep paying for the expensive cocktail of drugs crafted by a Mayo Clinic specialist that had brought Mr. McNaughton’s disease under control after he’d been through years of misery.

On the 2021 phone call, which was recorded by the company, nurse Victoria Kavanaugh told her colleague that a doctor contracted by United to review the case had concluded that Mr. McNaughton’s treatment was “not medically necessary.” Her colleague, Dave Opperman, reacted to the news with a long laugh.

“I knew that was coming,” said Mr. Opperman, who heads up a United subsidiary that brokered the health insurance contract between United and Penn State. “I did too,” Ms. Kavanaugh replied.

Mr. Opperman then complained about Mr. McNaughton’s mother, whom he referred to as “this woman,” for “screaming and yelling” and “throwing tantrums” during calls with United.

The pair agreed that any appeal of the United doctor’s denial of the treatment would be a waste of the family’s time and money.

“We’re still gonna say no,” Mr. Opperman said.

More than 200 million Americans are covered by private health insurance. But data from state and federal regulators shows that insurers reject about 1 in 7 claims for treatment. Many people, faced with fighting insurance companies, simply give up: One study found that Americans file formal appeals on only 0.1% of claims denied by insurers under the Affordable Care Act.

Insurers have wide discretion in crafting what is covered by their policies, beyond some basic services mandated by federal and state law. They often deny claims for services that they deem not “medically necessary.”

When United refused to pay for Mr. McNaughton’s treatment for that reason, his family did something unusual. They fought back with a lawsuit, which uncovered a trove of materials, including internal emails and tape-recorded exchanges among company employees. Those records offer an extraordinary behind-the-scenes look at how one of America’s leading health care insurers relentlessly fought to reduce spending on care, even as its profits rose to record levels.

As United reviewed Mr. McNaughton’s treatment, he and his family were often in the dark about what was happening or their rights. Meanwhile, United employees misrepresented critical findings and ignored warnings from doctors about the risks of altering Mr. McNaughton’s drug plan.

At one point, court records show, United inaccurately reported to Penn State and the family that Mr. McNaughton’s doctor had agreed to lower the doses of his medication. Another time, a doctor paid by United concluded that denying payments for Mr. McNaughton’s treatment could put his health at risk, but the company buried his report and did not consider its findings. The insurer did, however, consider a report submitted by a company doctor who rubber-stamped the recommendation of a United nurse to reject paying for the treatment.

United declined to answer specific questions about the case, even after Mr. McNaughton signed a release provided by the insurer to allow it to discuss details of his interactions with the company. United noted that it ultimately paid for all of Mr. McNaughton’s treatments. In a written response, United spokesperson Maria Gordon Shydlo wrote that the company’s guiding concern was Mr. McNaughton’s well-being.

“Mr. McNaughton’s treatment involves medication dosages that far exceed [Food and Drug Administration] guidelines,” the statement said. “In cases like this, we review treatment plans based on current clinical guidelines to help ensure patient safety.”

But the records reviewed by ProPublica show that United had another, equally urgent goal in dealing with Mr. McNaughton. In emails, officials calculated what Mr. McNaughton was costing them to keep his crippling disease at bay and how much they would save if they forced him to undergo a cheaper treatment that had already failed him. As the family pressed the company to back down, first through Penn State and then through a lawsuit, the United officials handling the case bristled.

“This is just unbelievable,” Ms. Kavanaugh said of Mr. McNaughton’s family in one call to discuss his case. ”They’re just really pushing the envelope, and I’m surprised, like I don’t even know what to say.”
 

The same meal every day

Now 31, Mr. McNaughton grew up in State College, Pa., just blocks from the Penn State campus. Both of his parents are faculty members at the university.

In the winter of 2014, Mr. McNaughton was halfway through his junior year at Bard College in New York. At 6 feet, 4 inches tall, he was a guard on the basketball team and had started most of the team’s games since the start of his sophomore year. He was majoring in psychology.

When Mr. McNaughton returned to school after the winter holiday break, he started to experience frequent bouts of bloody diarrhea. After just a few days on campus, he went home to State College, where doctors diagnosed him with a severe case of ulcerative colitis.

A chronic inflammatory bowel disease that causes swelling and ulcers in the digestive tract, ulcerative colitis has no cure, and ongoing treatment is needed to alleviate symptoms and prevent serious health complications. The majority of cases produce mild to moderate symptoms. Mr. McNaughton’s case was severe.

Treatments for ulcerative colitis include steroids and special drugs known as biologics that work to reduce inflammation in the large intestine.

Mr. McNaughton, however, failed to get meaningful relief from the drugs his doctors initially prescribed. He was experiencing bloody diarrhea up to 20 times a day, with such severe stomach pain that he spent much of his day curled up on a couch. He had little appetite and lost 50 pounds. Severe anemia left him fatigued. He suffered from other conditions related to his colitis, including crippling arthritis. He was hospitalized several times to treat dangerous blood clots.

For 2 years, in an effort to help alleviate his symptoms, he ate the same meals every day: Rice Chex cereal and scrambled eggs for breakfast, a cup of white rice with plain chicken breast for lunch, and a similar meal for dinner, occasionally swapping in tilapia.

His hometown doctors referred him to a specialist at the University of Pittsburgh, who tried unsuccessfully to bring his disease under control. That doctor ended up referring Mr. McNaughton to Edward V. Loftus Jr., MD, at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., which has been ranked as the best gastroenterology hospital in the country every year since 1990 by U.S. News & World Report.

For his first visit with Dr. Loftus in May 2015, Mr. McNaughton and his mother, Janice Light, charted hospitals along the 900-mile drive from Pennsylvania to Minnesota in case they needed medical help along the way.

Mornings were the hardest. Mr. McNaughton often spent several hours in the bathroom at the start of the day. To prepare for his meeting with Dr. Loftus, he set his alarm for 3:30 a.m. so he could be ready for the 7:30 a.m. appointment. Even with that preparation, he had to stop twice to use a bathroom on the 5-minute walk from the hotel to the clinic. When they met, Dr. Loftus looked at Mr. McNaughton and told him that he appeared incapacitated. It was, he told the student, as if Mr. McNaughton were chained to the bathroom, with no outside life. He had not been able to return to school and spent most days indoors, managing his symptoms as best he could.

Mr. McNaughton had tried a number of medications by this point, none of which worked. This pattern would repeat itself during the first couple of years that Dr. Loftus treated him.

In addition to trying to find a treatment that would bring Mr. McNaughton’s colitis into remission, Dr. Loftus wanted to wean him off the steroid prednisone, which he had been taking since his initial diagnosis in 2014. The drug is commonly prescribed to colitis patients to control inflammation, but prolonged use can lead to severe side effects including cataracts, osteoporosis, increased risk of infection, and fatigue. Mr. McNaughton also experienced “moon face,” a side effect caused by the shifting of fat deposits that results in the face becoming puffy and rounder.

In 2018, Dr. Loftus and Mr. McNaughton decided to try an unusual regimen. Many patients with inflammatory bowel diseases such as colitis take a single biologic drug as treatment. Whereas traditional drugs are chemically synthesized, biologics are manufactured in living systems, such as plant or animal cells. A year’s supply of an individual biologic drug can cost up to $500,000. They are often given through infusions in a medical facility, which adds to the cost.

Mr. McNaughton had tried individual biologics, and then two in combination, without much success. He and Dr. Loftus then agreed to try two biologic drugs together at doses well above those recommended by the Food and Drug Administration. The federal Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality estimates one in five prescriptions written today are for off-label uses.

There are drawbacks to the practice. Since some uses and doses of particular drugs have not been extensively studied, the risks and efficacy of using them off-label are not well known. Also, some drug manufacturers have improperly pushed off-label usage of their products to boost sales despite little or no evidence to support their use in those situations. Like many leading experts and researchers in his field, Dr. Loftus has been paid to do consulting related to the biologic drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton. The payments related to those drugs have ranged from a total of $1,440 in 2020 to $51,235 in 2018. Dr. Loftus said much of his work with pharmaceutical companies was related to conducting clinical trials on new drugs.

In cases of off-label prescribing, patients are depending upon their doctors’ expertise and experience with the drug. “In this case, I was comfortable that the potential benefits to Chris outweighed the risks,” Dr. Loftus said.

There was evidence that the treatment plan for Mr. McNaughton might work, including studies that had found dual biologic therapy to be efficacious and safe. The two drugs he takes, Entyvio and Remicade, have the same purpose – to reduce inflammation in the large intestine – but each works differently in the body. Remicade, marketed by Janssen Biotech, targets a protein that causes inflammation. Entyvio, made by Takeda Pharmaceuticals, works by preventing an excess of white blood cells from entering into the gastrointestinal tract.

As for any suggestion by United doctors that his treatment plan for Mr. McNaughton was out of bounds or dangerous, Dr. Loftus said “my treatment of Chris was not clinically inappropriate – as was shown by Chris’ positive outcome.”

The unusual high-dose combination of two biologic drugs produced a remarkable change in Mr. McNaughton. He no longer had blood in his stool, and his trips to the bathroom were cut from 20 times a day to 3 or 4. He was able to eat different foods and put on weight. He had more energy. He tapered off prednisone.

“If you told me in 2015 that I would be living like this, I would have asked where do I sign up,” Mr. McNaughton said of the change he experienced with the new drug regimen.

When he first started the new treatment, Mr. McNaughton was covered under his family’s plan, and all his bills were paid. Mr. McNaughton enrolled at the university in 2020. Before switching to United’s plan for students, Mr. McNaughton and his parents consulted with a health advocacy service offered to faculty members. A benefits specialist assured them the drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton would be covered by United.

Mr. McNaughton joined the student plan in July 2020, and his infusions that month and the following month were paid for by United. In September, the insurer indicated payment on his claims was “pending,” something it did for his other claims that came in during the rest of the year.

Mr. McNaughton and his family were worried. They called United to make sure there wasn’t a problem; the insurer told them, they said, that it only needed to check his medical records. When the family called again, United told them it had the documentation needed, they said. United, in a court filing last year, said it received two calls from the family and each time indicated that all of the necessary medical records had not yet been received.

In January 2021, Mr. McNaughton received a new explanation of benefits for the prior months. All of the claims for his care, beginning in September, were no longer “pending.” They were stamped “DENIED.” The total outstanding bill for his treatment was $807,086.

When Mr. McNaughton’s mother reached a United customer service representative the next day to ask why bills that had been paid in the summer were being denied for the fall, the representative told her the account was being reviewed because of “a high dollar amount on the claims,” according to a recording of the call.


 

Misrepresentations

With United refusing to pay, the family was terrified of being stuck with medical bills that would bankrupt them and deprive Mr. McNaughton of treatment that they considered miraculous.

They turned to Penn State for help. Ms. Light and Mr. McNaughton’s father, David McNaughton, hoped their position as faculty members would make the school more willing to intervene on their behalf.

“After more than 30 years on faculty, my husband and I know that this is not how Penn State would want its students to be treated,” Ms. Light wrote to a school official in February 2021.

In response to questions from ProPublica, Penn State spokesperson Lisa Powers wrote that “supporting the health and well-being of our students is always of primary importance” and that “our hearts go out to any student and family impacted by a serious medical condition.” The university, she wrote, does “not comment on students’ individual circumstances or disclose information from their records.” Mr. McNaughton offered to grant Penn State whatever permissions it needed to speak about his case with ProPublica. The school, however, wrote that it would not comment “even if confidentiality has been waived.”

The family appealed to school administrators. Because the effectiveness of biologics wanes in some patients if doses are skipped, Mr. McNaughton and his parents were worried about even a delay in treatment. His doctor wrote that if he missed scheduled infusions of the drugs, there was “a high likelihood they would no longer be effective.”

During a conference call arranged by Penn State officials on March 5, 2021, United agreed to pay for Mr. McNaughton’s care through the end of the plan year that August. Penn State immediately notified the family of the “wonderful news” while also apologizing for “the stress this has caused Chris and your family.”

Behind the scenes, Mr. McNaughton’s review had “gone all the way to the top” at United’s student health plan division, Ms. Kavanaugh, the nurse, said in a recorded conversation.

The family’s relief was short-lived. A month later, United started another review of Mr. McNaughton’s care, overseen by Ms. Kavanaugh, to determine if it would pay for the treatment in the upcoming plan year.

The nurse sent the Mr. McNaughton case to a company called Medical Review Institute of America. Insurers often turn to companies like MRIoA to review coverage decisions involving expensive treatments or specialized care.

Ms. Kavanaugh, who was assigned to a special investigations unit at United, let her feelings about the matter be known in a recorded telephone call with a representative of MRIoA.

“This school apparently is a big client of ours,” she said. She then shared her opinion of Mr. McNaughton’s treatment. “Really this is a case of a kid who’s getting a drug way too much, like too much of a dose,” Ms. Kavanaugh said. She said it was “insane that they would even think that this is reasonable” and “to be honest with you, they’re awfully pushy considering that we are paying through the end of this school year.”

On a call with an outside contractor, the United nurse claimed Mr. McNaughton was on a higher dose of medication than the FDA approved, which is a common practice.

MRIoA sent the case to Vikas Pabby, MD, a gastroenterologist at UCLA Health and a professor at the university’s medical school. His May 2021 review of Mr. McNaughton’s case was just one of more than 300 Dr. Pabby did for MRIoA that month, for which he was paid $23,000 in total, according to a log of his work produced in the lawsuit.

In a May 4, 2021, report, Dr. Pabby concluded Mr. McNaughton’s treatment was not medically necessary, because United’s policies for the two drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton did not support using them in combination.

Insurers spell out what services they cover in plan policies, lengthy documents that can be confusing and difficult to understand. Many policies, such as Mr. McNaughton’s, contain a provision that treatments and procedures must be “medically necessary” in order to be covered. The definition of medically necessary differs by plan. Some don’t even define the term. Mr. McNaughton’s policy contains a five-part definition, including that the treatment must be “in accordance with the standards of good medical policy” and “the most appropriate supply or level of service which can be safely provided.”

Behind the scenes at United, Mr. Opperman and Ms. Kavanaugh agreed that if Mr. McNaughton were to appeal Dr. Pabby’s decision, the insurer would simply rule against him. “I just think it’s a waste of money and time to appeal and send it to another one when we know we’re gonna get the same answer,” Mr. Opperman said, according to a recording in court files. At Mr. Opperman’s urging, United decided to skip the usual appeals process and arrange for Dr. Pabby to have a so-called “peer-to-peer” discussion with Dr. Loftus, the Mayo physician treating Mr. McNaughton. Such a conversation, in which a patient’s doctor talks with an insurance company’s doctor to advocate for the prescribed treatment, usually occurs only after a customer has appealed a denial and the appeal has been rejected.

When Ms. Kavanaugh called Dr. Loftus’ office to set up a conversation with Dr. Pabby, she explained it was an urgent matter and had been requested by Mr. McNaughton. “You know I’ve just gotten to know Christopher,” she explained, although she had never spoken with him. “We’re trying to advocate and help and get this peer-to-peer set up.”

Mr. McNaughton, meanwhile, had no idea at the time that a United doctor had decided his treatment was unnecessary and that the insurer was trying to set up a phone call with his physician.

In the peer-to-peer conversation, Dr. Loftus told Dr. Pabby that Mr. McNaughton had “a very complicated case” and that lower doses had not worked for him, according to an internal MRIoA memo.

Following his conversation with Dr. Loftus, Dr. Pabby created a second report for United. He recommended the insurer pay for both drugs, but at reduced doses. He added new language saying that the safety of using both drugs at the higher levels “is not established.”

When Ms. Kavanaugh shared the May 12 decision from Dr. Pabby with others at United, her boss responded with an email calling it “great news.”

Then Mr. Opperman sent an email that puzzled the McNaughtons.

In it, Mr. Opperman claimed that Dr. Loftus and Dr. Pabby had agreed that Mr. McNaughton should be on significantly lower doses of both drugs. He said Dr. Loftus “will work with the patient to start titrating them down to a normal dose range.” Mr. Opperman wrote that United would cover Mr. McNaughton’s treatment in the coming year, but only at the reduced doses. Mr. Opperman did not respond to emails and phone messages seeking comment.

Mr. McNaughton didn’t believe a word of it. He had already tried and failed treatment with those drugs at lower doses, and it was Dr. Loftus who had upped the doses, leading to his remission from severe colitis.

The only thing that made sense to Mr. McNaughton was that the treatment United said it would now pay for was dramatically cheaper – saving the company at least hundreds of thousands of dollars a year – than his prescribed treatment because it sliced the size of the doses by more than half.

When the family contacted Dr. Loftus for an explanation, they were outraged by what they heard. Dr. Loftus told them that he had never recommended lowering the dosage. In a letter, Dr. Loftus wrote that changing Mr. McNaughton’s treatment “would have serious detrimental effects on both his short term and long term health and could potentially involve life threatening complications. This would ultimately incur far greater medical costs. Chris was on the doses suggested by United Healthcare before, and they were not at all effective.”

It would not be until the lawsuit that it would become clear how Dr. Loftus’ conversations had been so seriously misrepresented.

Under questioning by Mr. McNaughton’s lawyers, Ms. Kavanaugh acknowledged that she was the source of the incorrect claim that Mr. McNaughton’s doctor had agreed to a change in treatment.

“I incorrectly made an assumption that they had come to some sort of agreement,” she said in a deposition last August. “It was my first peer-to-peer. I did not realize that that simply does not occur.”

Ms. Kavanaugh did not respond to emails and telephone messages seeking comment.

When the McNaughtons first learned of Mr. Opperman’s inaccurate report of the phone call with Dr. Loftus, it unnerved them. They started to question if their case would be fairly reviewed.

“When we got the denial and they lied about what Dr. Loftus said, it just hit me that none of this matters,” Mr. McNaughton said. “They will just say or do anything to get rid of me. It delegitimized the entire review process. When I got that denial, I was crushed.”


 

A buried report

While the family tried to sort out the inaccurate report, United continued putting the McNaughton case in front of more company doctors.

On May 21, 2021, United sent the case to one of its own doctors, Nady Cates, MD, for an additional review. The review was marked “escalated issue.” Dr. Cates is a United medical director, a title used by many insurers for physicians who review cases. It is work he has been doing as an employee of health insurers since 1989 and at United since 2010. He has not practiced medicine since the early 1990s.

Dr. Cates, in a deposition, said he stopped seeing patients because of the long hours involved and because “AIDS was coming around then. I was seeing a lot of military folks who had venereal diseases, and I guess I was concerned about being exposed.” He transitioned to reviewing paperwork for the insurance industry, he said, because “I guess I was a chicken.”

When he had practiced, Dr. Cates said, he hadn’t treated patients with ulcerative colitis and had referred those cases to a gastroenterologist.

He said his review of Mr. McNaughton’s case primarily involved reading a United nurse’s recommendation to deny his care and making sure “that there wasn’t a decimal place that was out of line.” He said he copied and pasted the nurse’s recommendation and typed “agree” on his review of Mr. McNaughton’s case.

Dr. Cates said that he does about a hundred reviews a week. He said that in his reviews he typically checks to see if any medications are prescribed in accordance with the insurer’s guidelines, and if not, he denies it. United’s policies, he said, prevented him from considering that Mr. McNaughton had failed other treatments or that Dr. Loftus was a leading expert in his field.

“You are giving zero weight to the treating doctor’s opinion on the necessity of the treatment regimen?” a lawyer asked Dr. Cates in his deposition. He responded, “Yeah.”

Attempts to contact Dr. Cates for comment were unsuccessful.

At the same time Dr. Cates was looking at Mr. McNaughton’s case, yet another review was underway at MRIoA. United said it sent the case back to MRIoA after the insurer received the letter from Dr. Loftus warning of the life-threatening complications that might occur if the dosages were reduced.

On May 24, 2021, the new report requested by MRIoA arrived. It came to a completely different conclusion than all of the previous reviews.

Nitin Kumar, MD, a gastroenterologist in Illinois, concluded that Mr. McNaughton’s established treatment plan was not only medically necessary and appropriate but that lowering his doses “can result in a lack of effective therapy of Ulcerative Colitis, with complications of uncontrolled disease (including dysplasia leading to colorectal cancer), flare, hospitalization, need for surgery, and toxic megacolon.”

Unlike other doctors who produced reports for United, Dr. Kumar discussed the harm that Mr. McNaughton might suffer if United required him to change his treatment. “His disease is significantly severe, with diagnosis at a young age,” Dr. Kumar wrote. “He has failed every biologic medication class recommended by guidelines. Therefore, guidelines can no longer be applied in this case.” He cited six studies of patients using two biologic drugs together and wrote that they revealed no significant safety issues and found the therapy to be “broadly successful.”

When Ms. Kavanaugh learned of Dr. Kumar’s report, she quickly moved to quash it and get the case returned to Dr. Pabby, according to her deposition.

In a recorded telephone call, Ms. Kavanaugh told an MRIoA representative that “I had asked that this go back through Dr. Pabby, and it went through a different doctor and they had a much different result.” After further discussion, the MRIoA representative agreed to send the case back to Dr. Pabby. “I appreciate that,” Ms. Kavanaugh replied. “I just want to make sure, because, I mean, it’s obviously a very different result than what we’ve been getting on this case.”

MRIoA case notes show that at 7:04 a.m. on May 25, 2021, Dr. Pabby was assigned to take a look at the case for the third time. At 7:27 a.m., the notes indicate, Dr. Pabby again rejected Mr. McNaughton’s treatment plan. While noting it was “difficult to control” Mr. McNaughton’s ulcerative colitis, Dr. Pabby added that his doses “far exceed what is approved by literature” and that the “safety of the requested doses is not supported by literature.”

In a deposition, Ms. Kavanaugh said that after she opened the Kumar report and read that he was supporting Mr. McNaughton’s current treatment plan, she immediately spoke to her supervisor, who told her to call MRIoA and have the case sent back to Dr. Pabby for review.

Ms. Kavanaugh said she didn’t save a copy of the Kumar report, nor did she forward it to anyone at United or to officials at Penn State who had been inquiring about the McNaughton case. “I didn’t because it shouldn’t have existed,” she said. “It should have gone back to Dr. Pabby.”

When asked if the Kumar report caused her any concerns given his warning that Mr. McNaughton risked cancer or hospitalization if his regimen were changed, Ms. Kavanaugh said she didn’t read his full report. “I saw that it was not the correct doctor, I saw the initial outcome and I was asked to send it back,” she said. Ms. Kavanaugh added, “I have a lot of empathy for this member, but it needed to go back to the peer-to-peer reviewer.”

In a court filing, United said Ms. Kavanaugh was correct in insisting that Dr. Pabby conduct the review and that MRIoA confirmed that Dr. Pabby should have been the one doing the review.

The Kumar report was not provided to Mr. McNaughton when his lawyer, Jonathan M. Gesk, first asked United and MRIoA for any reviews of the case. Mr. Gesk discovered it by accident when he was listening to a recorded telephone call produced by United in which Ms. Kavanaugh mentioned a report number Mr. Gesk had not heard before. He then called MRIoA, which confirmed the report existed and eventually provided it to him.

Dr. Pabby asked ProPublica to direct any questions about his involvement in the matter to MRIoA. The company did not respond to questions from ProPublica about the case.
 

A sense of hopelessness

When Mr. McNaughton enrolled at Penn State in 2020, it brought a sense of normalcy that he had lost when he was first diagnosed with colitis. He still needed monthly hours-long infusions and suffered occasional flare-ups and symptoms, but he was attending classes in person and living a life similar to the one he had before his diagnosis.

It was a striking contrast to the previous 6 years, which he had spent largely confined to his parents’ house in State College. The frequent bouts of diarrhea made it difficult to go out. He didn’t talk much to friends and spent as much time as he could studying potential treatments and reviewing ongoing clinical trials. He tried to keep up with the occasional online course, but his disease made it difficult to make any real progress toward a degree.

United, in correspondence with Mr. McNaughton, noted that its review of his care was “not a treatment decision. Treatment decisions are made between you and your physician.” But by threatening not to pay for his medications, or only to pay for a different regimen, Mr. McNaughton said, United was in fact attempting to dictate his treatment. From his perspective, the insurer was playing doctor, making decisions without ever examining him or even speaking to him.

The idea of changing his treatment or stopping it altogether caused constant worry for Mr. McNaughton, exacerbating his colitis and triggering physical symptoms, according to his doctors. Those included a large ulcer on his leg and welts under his skin on his thighs and shin that made his leg muscles stiff and painful to the point where he couldn’t bend his leg or walk properly. There were daily migraines and severe stomach pain. “I was consumed with this situation,” Mr. McNaughton said. “My path was unconventional, but I was proud of myself for fighting back and finishing school and getting my life back on track. I thought they were singling me out. My biggest fear was going back to the hell.”

Mr. McNaughton said he contemplated suicide on several occasions, dreading a return to a life where he was housebound or hospitalized.

Mr. McNaughton and his parents talked about his possibly moving to Canada where his grandmother lived and seeking treatment there under the nation’s government health plan.

Dr. Loftus connected Mr. McNaughton with a psychologist who specializes in helping patients with chronic digestive diseases.

The psychologist, Tiffany Taft, PsyD, said Mr. McNaughton was not an unusual case. About one in three patients with diseases like colitis suffer from medical trauma or PTSD related to it, she said, often the result of issues related to getting appropriate treatment approved by insurers.

“You get into hopelessness,” she said of the depression that accompanies fighting with insurance companies over care. “They feel like ‘I can’t fix that. I am screwed.’ When you can’t control things with what an insurance company is doing, anxiety, PTSD and depression get mixed together.”

In the case of Mr. McNaughton, Dr. Taft said, he was being treated by one of the best gastroenterologists in the world, was doing well with his treatment, and then was suddenly notified he might be on the hook for nearly a million dollars in medical charges without access to his medications. “It sends you immediately into panic about all these horrific things that could happen,” Dr. Taft said. The physical and mental symptoms Mr. McNaughton suffered after his care was threatened were “triggered” by the stress he experienced, she said.

In early June 2021, United informed Mr. McNaughton in a letter that it would not cover the cost of his treatment regimen in the next academic year, starting in August. The insurer said it would pay only for a treatment plan that called for a significant reduction in the doses of the drugs he took.

United wrote that the decision came after his “records have been reviewed three times and the medical reviewers have concluded that the medication as prescribed does not meet the Medical Necessity requirement of the plan.”

In August 2021, Mr. McNaughton filed a federal lawsuit accusing United of acting in bad faith and unreasonably making treatment decisions based on financial concerns and not what was the best and most effective treatment. It claims United had a duty to find information that supported Mr. McNaughton’s claim for treatment rather than looking for ways to deny coverage.

United, in a court filing, said it did not breach any duty it owed to Mr. McNaughton and acted in good faith. On Sept. 20, 2021, a month after filing the lawsuit, and with United again balking at paying for his treatment, Mr. McNaughton asked a judge to grant a temporary restraining order requiring United to pay for his care. With the looming threat of a court hearing on the motion, United quickly agreed to cover the cost of Mr. McNaughton’s treatment through the end of the 2021-2022 academic year. It also dropped a demand requiring Mr. McNaughton to settle the matter as a condition of the insurer paying for his treatment as prescribed by Dr. Loftus, according to an email sent by United’s lawyer.
 

The cost of treatment

It is not surprising that insurers are carefully scrutinizing the care of patients treated with biologics, which are among the most expensive medications on the market. Biologics are considered specialty drugs, a class that includes the best-selling Humira, used to treat arthritis. Specialty drug spending in the United States is expected to reach $505 billion in 2023, according to an estimate from Optum, United’s health services division. The Institute for Clinical and Economic Review, a nonprofit that analyzes the value of drugs, found in 2020 that the biologic drugs used to treat patients like Mr. McNaughton are often effective but overpriced for their therapeutic benefit. To be judged cost-effective by ICER, the biologics should sell at a steep discount to their current market price, the panel found.

A panel convened by ICER to review its analysis cautioned that insurance coverage “should be structured to prevent situations in which patients are forced to choose a treatment approach on the basis of cost.” ICER also found examples where insurance company policies failed to keep pace with updates to clinical practice guidelines based on emerging research.

United officials did not make the cost of treatment an issue when discussing Mr. McNaughton’s care with Penn State administrators or the family.

Bill Truxal, the president of UnitedHealthcare StudentResources, the company’s student health plan division, told a Penn State official that the insurer wanted the “best for the student” and it had “nothing to do with cost,” according to notes the official took of the conversation.

Behind the scenes, however, the price of Mr. McNaughton’s care was front and center at United.

In one email, Mr. Opperman asked about the cost difference if the insurer insisted on paying only for greatly reduced doses of the biologic drugs. Ms. Kavanaugh responded that the insurer had paid $1.1 million in claims for Mr. McNaughton’s care as of the middle of May 2021. If the reduced doses had been in place, the amount would have been cut to $260,218, she wrote.

United was keeping close tabs on Mr. McNaughton at the highest levels of the company. On Aug. 2, 2021, Mr. Opperman notified Mr. Truxal and a United lawyer that Mr. McNaughton “has just purchased the plan again for the 21-22 school year.”

A month later, Ms. Kavanaugh shared another calculation with United executives showing that the insurer spent over $1.7 million on Mr. McNaughton in the prior plan year.

United officials strategized about how to best explain why it was reviewing Mr. McNaughton’s drug regimen, according to an internal email. They pointed to a justification often used by health insurers when denying claims. “As the cost of healthcare continues to climb to soaring heights, it has been determined that a judicious review of these drugs should be included” in order to “make healthcare more affordable for our members,” Ms. Kavanaugh offered as a potential talking point in an April 23, 2021, email.

Three days later, UnitedHealth Group filed an annual statement with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission disclosing its pay for top executives in the prior year. Then-CEO David Wichmann was paid $17.9 million in salary and other compensation in 2020. Wichmann retired early the following year, and his total compensation that year exceeded $140 million, according to calculations in a compensation database maintained by the Star Tribune in Minneapolis. The newspaper said the amount was the most paid to an executive in the state since it started tracking pay more than 2 decades ago. About $110 million of that total came from Wichmann exercising stock options accumulated during his stewardship.

The McNaughtons were well aware of the financial situation at United. They looked at publicly available financial results and annual reports. Last year, United reported a profit of $20.1 billion on revenues of $324.2 billion.

When discussing the case with Penn State, Ms. Light said, she told university administrators that United could pay for a year of her son’s treatment using just minutes’ worth of profit.
 

‘Betrayed’

Mr. McNaughton has been able to continue receiving his infusions for now, anyway. In October, United notified him it was once again reviewing his care, although the insurer quickly reversed course when his lawyer intervened. United, in a court filing, said the review was a mistake and that it had erred in putting Mr. McNaughton’s claims into pending status.

Mr. McNaughton said he is fortunate his parents were employed at the same school he was attending, which was critical in getting the attention of administrators there. But that help had its limits.

In June 2021, just a week after United told Mr. McNaughton it would not cover his treatment plan in the upcoming plan year, Penn State essentially walked away from the matter.

In an email to the McNaughtons and United, Penn State Associate Vice President for Student Affairs Andrea Dowhower wrote that administrators “have observed an unfortunate breakdown in communication” between Mr. McNaughton and his family and the university health insurance plan, “which appears from our perspective to have resulted in a standstill between the two parties.” While she proposed some potential steps to help settle the matter, she wrote that “Penn State’s role in this process is as a resource for students like Chris who, for whatever reason, have experienced difficulty navigating the complex world of health insurance.” The university’s role “is limited,” she wrote, and the school “simply must leave” the issue of the best treatment for Mr. McNaughton to “the appropriate health care professionals.”

In a statement, a Penn State spokesperson wrote that “as a third party in this arrangement, the University’s role is limited and Penn State officials can only help a student manage an issue based on information that a student/family, medical personnel, and/or insurance provider give – with the hope that all information is accurate and that the lines of communication remain open between the insured and the insurer.”

Penn State declined to provide financial information about the plan. However, the university and United share at least one tie that they have not publicly disclosed.

When the McNaughtons first reached out to the university for help, they were referred to the school’s student health insurance coordinator. The official, Heather Klinger, wrote in an email to the family in February 2021 that “I appreciate your trusting me to resolve this for you.”

In April 2022, United began paying Ms. Klinger’s salary, an arrangement which is not noted on the university website. Ms. Klinger appears in the online staff directory on the Penn State University Health Services web page, and has a university phone number, a university address, and a Penn State email listed as her contact. The school said she has maintained a part-time status with the university to allow her to access relevant data systems at both the university and United.

The university said students “benefit” from having a United employee to handle questions about insurance coverage and that the arrangement is “not uncommon” for student health plans.

The family was dismayed to learn that Ms. Klinger was now a full-time employee of United.

“We did feel betrayed,” Ms. Light said. Ms. Klinger did not respond to an email seeking comment.

Mr. McNaughton’s fight to maintain his treatment regimen has come at a cost of time, debilitating stress, and depression. “My biggest fear is realizing I might have to do this every year of my life,” he said.

Mr. McNaughton said one motivation for his lawsuit was to expose how insurers like United make decisions about what care they will pay for and what they will not. The case remains pending, a court docket shows.

He has been accepted to Penn State’s law school. He hopes to become a health care lawyer working for patients who find themselves in situations similar to his.

He plans to re-enroll in the United health care plan when he starts school next fall.

This story was originally published on ProPublica. ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up to receive the biggest stories as soon as they’re published.

In May 2021, a nurse at UnitedHealthcare called a colleague to share some welcome news about a problem the two had been grappling with for weeks.

United provided the health insurance plan for students at Penn State University. It was a large and potentially lucrative account: lots of young, healthy students paying premiums in, not too many huge medical reimbursements going out.

But one student was costing United a lot of money. Christopher McNaughton suffered from a crippling case of ulcerative colitis – an ailment that caused him to develop severe arthritis, debilitating diarrhea, numbing fatigue, and life-threatening blood clots. His medical bills were running nearly $2 million a year.

United had flagged Mr. McNaughton’s case as a “high dollar account,” and the company was reviewing whether it needed to keep paying for the expensive cocktail of drugs crafted by a Mayo Clinic specialist that had brought Mr. McNaughton’s disease under control after he’d been through years of misery.

On the 2021 phone call, which was recorded by the company, nurse Victoria Kavanaugh told her colleague that a doctor contracted by United to review the case had concluded that Mr. McNaughton’s treatment was “not medically necessary.” Her colleague, Dave Opperman, reacted to the news with a long laugh.

“I knew that was coming,” said Mr. Opperman, who heads up a United subsidiary that brokered the health insurance contract between United and Penn State. “I did too,” Ms. Kavanaugh replied.

Mr. Opperman then complained about Mr. McNaughton’s mother, whom he referred to as “this woman,” for “screaming and yelling” and “throwing tantrums” during calls with United.

The pair agreed that any appeal of the United doctor’s denial of the treatment would be a waste of the family’s time and money.

“We’re still gonna say no,” Mr. Opperman said.

More than 200 million Americans are covered by private health insurance. But data from state and federal regulators shows that insurers reject about 1 in 7 claims for treatment. Many people, faced with fighting insurance companies, simply give up: One study found that Americans file formal appeals on only 0.1% of claims denied by insurers under the Affordable Care Act.

Insurers have wide discretion in crafting what is covered by their policies, beyond some basic services mandated by federal and state law. They often deny claims for services that they deem not “medically necessary.”

When United refused to pay for Mr. McNaughton’s treatment for that reason, his family did something unusual. They fought back with a lawsuit, which uncovered a trove of materials, including internal emails and tape-recorded exchanges among company employees. Those records offer an extraordinary behind-the-scenes look at how one of America’s leading health care insurers relentlessly fought to reduce spending on care, even as its profits rose to record levels.

As United reviewed Mr. McNaughton’s treatment, he and his family were often in the dark about what was happening or their rights. Meanwhile, United employees misrepresented critical findings and ignored warnings from doctors about the risks of altering Mr. McNaughton’s drug plan.

At one point, court records show, United inaccurately reported to Penn State and the family that Mr. McNaughton’s doctor had agreed to lower the doses of his medication. Another time, a doctor paid by United concluded that denying payments for Mr. McNaughton’s treatment could put his health at risk, but the company buried his report and did not consider its findings. The insurer did, however, consider a report submitted by a company doctor who rubber-stamped the recommendation of a United nurse to reject paying for the treatment.

United declined to answer specific questions about the case, even after Mr. McNaughton signed a release provided by the insurer to allow it to discuss details of his interactions with the company. United noted that it ultimately paid for all of Mr. McNaughton’s treatments. In a written response, United spokesperson Maria Gordon Shydlo wrote that the company’s guiding concern was Mr. McNaughton’s well-being.

“Mr. McNaughton’s treatment involves medication dosages that far exceed [Food and Drug Administration] guidelines,” the statement said. “In cases like this, we review treatment plans based on current clinical guidelines to help ensure patient safety.”

But the records reviewed by ProPublica show that United had another, equally urgent goal in dealing with Mr. McNaughton. In emails, officials calculated what Mr. McNaughton was costing them to keep his crippling disease at bay and how much they would save if they forced him to undergo a cheaper treatment that had already failed him. As the family pressed the company to back down, first through Penn State and then through a lawsuit, the United officials handling the case bristled.

“This is just unbelievable,” Ms. Kavanaugh said of Mr. McNaughton’s family in one call to discuss his case. ”They’re just really pushing the envelope, and I’m surprised, like I don’t even know what to say.”
 

The same meal every day

Now 31, Mr. McNaughton grew up in State College, Pa., just blocks from the Penn State campus. Both of his parents are faculty members at the university.

In the winter of 2014, Mr. McNaughton was halfway through his junior year at Bard College in New York. At 6 feet, 4 inches tall, he was a guard on the basketball team and had started most of the team’s games since the start of his sophomore year. He was majoring in psychology.

When Mr. McNaughton returned to school after the winter holiday break, he started to experience frequent bouts of bloody diarrhea. After just a few days on campus, he went home to State College, where doctors diagnosed him with a severe case of ulcerative colitis.

A chronic inflammatory bowel disease that causes swelling and ulcers in the digestive tract, ulcerative colitis has no cure, and ongoing treatment is needed to alleviate symptoms and prevent serious health complications. The majority of cases produce mild to moderate symptoms. Mr. McNaughton’s case was severe.

Treatments for ulcerative colitis include steroids and special drugs known as biologics that work to reduce inflammation in the large intestine.

Mr. McNaughton, however, failed to get meaningful relief from the drugs his doctors initially prescribed. He was experiencing bloody diarrhea up to 20 times a day, with such severe stomach pain that he spent much of his day curled up on a couch. He had little appetite and lost 50 pounds. Severe anemia left him fatigued. He suffered from other conditions related to his colitis, including crippling arthritis. He was hospitalized several times to treat dangerous blood clots.

For 2 years, in an effort to help alleviate his symptoms, he ate the same meals every day: Rice Chex cereal and scrambled eggs for breakfast, a cup of white rice with plain chicken breast for lunch, and a similar meal for dinner, occasionally swapping in tilapia.

His hometown doctors referred him to a specialist at the University of Pittsburgh, who tried unsuccessfully to bring his disease under control. That doctor ended up referring Mr. McNaughton to Edward V. Loftus Jr., MD, at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., which has been ranked as the best gastroenterology hospital in the country every year since 1990 by U.S. News & World Report.

For his first visit with Dr. Loftus in May 2015, Mr. McNaughton and his mother, Janice Light, charted hospitals along the 900-mile drive from Pennsylvania to Minnesota in case they needed medical help along the way.

Mornings were the hardest. Mr. McNaughton often spent several hours in the bathroom at the start of the day. To prepare for his meeting with Dr. Loftus, he set his alarm for 3:30 a.m. so he could be ready for the 7:30 a.m. appointment. Even with that preparation, he had to stop twice to use a bathroom on the 5-minute walk from the hotel to the clinic. When they met, Dr. Loftus looked at Mr. McNaughton and told him that he appeared incapacitated. It was, he told the student, as if Mr. McNaughton were chained to the bathroom, with no outside life. He had not been able to return to school and spent most days indoors, managing his symptoms as best he could.

Mr. McNaughton had tried a number of medications by this point, none of which worked. This pattern would repeat itself during the first couple of years that Dr. Loftus treated him.

In addition to trying to find a treatment that would bring Mr. McNaughton’s colitis into remission, Dr. Loftus wanted to wean him off the steroid prednisone, which he had been taking since his initial diagnosis in 2014. The drug is commonly prescribed to colitis patients to control inflammation, but prolonged use can lead to severe side effects including cataracts, osteoporosis, increased risk of infection, and fatigue. Mr. McNaughton also experienced “moon face,” a side effect caused by the shifting of fat deposits that results in the face becoming puffy and rounder.

In 2018, Dr. Loftus and Mr. McNaughton decided to try an unusual regimen. Many patients with inflammatory bowel diseases such as colitis take a single biologic drug as treatment. Whereas traditional drugs are chemically synthesized, biologics are manufactured in living systems, such as plant or animal cells. A year’s supply of an individual biologic drug can cost up to $500,000. They are often given through infusions in a medical facility, which adds to the cost.

Mr. McNaughton had tried individual biologics, and then two in combination, without much success. He and Dr. Loftus then agreed to try two biologic drugs together at doses well above those recommended by the Food and Drug Administration. The federal Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality estimates one in five prescriptions written today are for off-label uses.

There are drawbacks to the practice. Since some uses and doses of particular drugs have not been extensively studied, the risks and efficacy of using them off-label are not well known. Also, some drug manufacturers have improperly pushed off-label usage of their products to boost sales despite little or no evidence to support their use in those situations. Like many leading experts and researchers in his field, Dr. Loftus has been paid to do consulting related to the biologic drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton. The payments related to those drugs have ranged from a total of $1,440 in 2020 to $51,235 in 2018. Dr. Loftus said much of his work with pharmaceutical companies was related to conducting clinical trials on new drugs.

In cases of off-label prescribing, patients are depending upon their doctors’ expertise and experience with the drug. “In this case, I was comfortable that the potential benefits to Chris outweighed the risks,” Dr. Loftus said.

There was evidence that the treatment plan for Mr. McNaughton might work, including studies that had found dual biologic therapy to be efficacious and safe. The two drugs he takes, Entyvio and Remicade, have the same purpose – to reduce inflammation in the large intestine – but each works differently in the body. Remicade, marketed by Janssen Biotech, targets a protein that causes inflammation. Entyvio, made by Takeda Pharmaceuticals, works by preventing an excess of white blood cells from entering into the gastrointestinal tract.

As for any suggestion by United doctors that his treatment plan for Mr. McNaughton was out of bounds or dangerous, Dr. Loftus said “my treatment of Chris was not clinically inappropriate – as was shown by Chris’ positive outcome.”

The unusual high-dose combination of two biologic drugs produced a remarkable change in Mr. McNaughton. He no longer had blood in his stool, and his trips to the bathroom were cut from 20 times a day to 3 or 4. He was able to eat different foods and put on weight. He had more energy. He tapered off prednisone.

“If you told me in 2015 that I would be living like this, I would have asked where do I sign up,” Mr. McNaughton said of the change he experienced with the new drug regimen.

When he first started the new treatment, Mr. McNaughton was covered under his family’s plan, and all his bills were paid. Mr. McNaughton enrolled at the university in 2020. Before switching to United’s plan for students, Mr. McNaughton and his parents consulted with a health advocacy service offered to faculty members. A benefits specialist assured them the drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton would be covered by United.

Mr. McNaughton joined the student plan in July 2020, and his infusions that month and the following month were paid for by United. In September, the insurer indicated payment on his claims was “pending,” something it did for his other claims that came in during the rest of the year.

Mr. McNaughton and his family were worried. They called United to make sure there wasn’t a problem; the insurer told them, they said, that it only needed to check his medical records. When the family called again, United told them it had the documentation needed, they said. United, in a court filing last year, said it received two calls from the family and each time indicated that all of the necessary medical records had not yet been received.

In January 2021, Mr. McNaughton received a new explanation of benefits for the prior months. All of the claims for his care, beginning in September, were no longer “pending.” They were stamped “DENIED.” The total outstanding bill for his treatment was $807,086.

When Mr. McNaughton’s mother reached a United customer service representative the next day to ask why bills that had been paid in the summer were being denied for the fall, the representative told her the account was being reviewed because of “a high dollar amount on the claims,” according to a recording of the call.


 

Misrepresentations

With United refusing to pay, the family was terrified of being stuck with medical bills that would bankrupt them and deprive Mr. McNaughton of treatment that they considered miraculous.

They turned to Penn State for help. Ms. Light and Mr. McNaughton’s father, David McNaughton, hoped their position as faculty members would make the school more willing to intervene on their behalf.

“After more than 30 years on faculty, my husband and I know that this is not how Penn State would want its students to be treated,” Ms. Light wrote to a school official in February 2021.

In response to questions from ProPublica, Penn State spokesperson Lisa Powers wrote that “supporting the health and well-being of our students is always of primary importance” and that “our hearts go out to any student and family impacted by a serious medical condition.” The university, she wrote, does “not comment on students’ individual circumstances or disclose information from their records.” Mr. McNaughton offered to grant Penn State whatever permissions it needed to speak about his case with ProPublica. The school, however, wrote that it would not comment “even if confidentiality has been waived.”

The family appealed to school administrators. Because the effectiveness of biologics wanes in some patients if doses are skipped, Mr. McNaughton and his parents were worried about even a delay in treatment. His doctor wrote that if he missed scheduled infusions of the drugs, there was “a high likelihood they would no longer be effective.”

During a conference call arranged by Penn State officials on March 5, 2021, United agreed to pay for Mr. McNaughton’s care through the end of the plan year that August. Penn State immediately notified the family of the “wonderful news” while also apologizing for “the stress this has caused Chris and your family.”

Behind the scenes, Mr. McNaughton’s review had “gone all the way to the top” at United’s student health plan division, Ms. Kavanaugh, the nurse, said in a recorded conversation.

The family’s relief was short-lived. A month later, United started another review of Mr. McNaughton’s care, overseen by Ms. Kavanaugh, to determine if it would pay for the treatment in the upcoming plan year.

The nurse sent the Mr. McNaughton case to a company called Medical Review Institute of America. Insurers often turn to companies like MRIoA to review coverage decisions involving expensive treatments or specialized care.

Ms. Kavanaugh, who was assigned to a special investigations unit at United, let her feelings about the matter be known in a recorded telephone call with a representative of MRIoA.

“This school apparently is a big client of ours,” she said. She then shared her opinion of Mr. McNaughton’s treatment. “Really this is a case of a kid who’s getting a drug way too much, like too much of a dose,” Ms. Kavanaugh said. She said it was “insane that they would even think that this is reasonable” and “to be honest with you, they’re awfully pushy considering that we are paying through the end of this school year.”

On a call with an outside contractor, the United nurse claimed Mr. McNaughton was on a higher dose of medication than the FDA approved, which is a common practice.

MRIoA sent the case to Vikas Pabby, MD, a gastroenterologist at UCLA Health and a professor at the university’s medical school. His May 2021 review of Mr. McNaughton’s case was just one of more than 300 Dr. Pabby did for MRIoA that month, for which he was paid $23,000 in total, according to a log of his work produced in the lawsuit.

In a May 4, 2021, report, Dr. Pabby concluded Mr. McNaughton’s treatment was not medically necessary, because United’s policies for the two drugs taken by Mr. McNaughton did not support using them in combination.

Insurers spell out what services they cover in plan policies, lengthy documents that can be confusing and difficult to understand. Many policies, such as Mr. McNaughton’s, contain a provision that treatments and procedures must be “medically necessary” in order to be covered. The definition of medically necessary differs by plan. Some don’t even define the term. Mr. McNaughton’s policy contains a five-part definition, including that the treatment must be “in accordance with the standards of good medical policy” and “the most appropriate supply or level of service which can be safely provided.”

Behind the scenes at United, Mr. Opperman and Ms. Kavanaugh agreed that if Mr. McNaughton were to appeal Dr. Pabby’s decision, the insurer would simply rule against him. “I just think it’s a waste of money and time to appeal and send it to another one when we know we’re gonna get the same answer,” Mr. Opperman said, according to a recording in court files. At Mr. Opperman’s urging, United decided to skip the usual appeals process and arrange for Dr. Pabby to have a so-called “peer-to-peer” discussion with Dr. Loftus, the Mayo physician treating Mr. McNaughton. Such a conversation, in which a patient’s doctor talks with an insurance company’s doctor to advocate for the prescribed treatment, usually occurs only after a customer has appealed a denial and the appeal has been rejected.

When Ms. Kavanaugh called Dr. Loftus’ office to set up a conversation with Dr. Pabby, she explained it was an urgent matter and had been requested by Mr. McNaughton. “You know I’ve just gotten to know Christopher,” she explained, although she had never spoken with him. “We’re trying to advocate and help and get this peer-to-peer set up.”

Mr. McNaughton, meanwhile, had no idea at the time that a United doctor had decided his treatment was unnecessary and that the insurer was trying to set up a phone call with his physician.

In the peer-to-peer conversation, Dr. Loftus told Dr. Pabby that Mr. McNaughton had “a very complicated case” and that lower doses had not worked for him, according to an internal MRIoA memo.

Following his conversation with Dr. Loftus, Dr. Pabby created a second report for United. He recommended the insurer pay for both drugs, but at reduced doses. He added new language saying that the safety of using both drugs at the higher levels “is not established.”

When Ms. Kavanaugh shared the May 12 decision from Dr. Pabby with others at United, her boss responded with an email calling it “great news.”

Then Mr. Opperman sent an email that puzzled the McNaughtons.

In it, Mr. Opperman claimed that Dr. Loftus and Dr. Pabby had agreed that Mr. McNaughton should be on significantly lower doses of both drugs. He said Dr. Loftus “will work with the patient to start titrating them down to a normal dose range.” Mr. Opperman wrote that United would cover Mr. McNaughton’s treatment in the coming year, but only at the reduced doses. Mr. Opperman did not respond to emails and phone messages seeking comment.

Mr. McNaughton didn’t believe a word of it. He had already tried and failed treatment with those drugs at lower doses, and it was Dr. Loftus who had upped the doses, leading to his remission from severe colitis.

The only thing that made sense to Mr. McNaughton was that the treatment United said it would now pay for was dramatically cheaper – saving the company at least hundreds of thousands of dollars a year – than his prescribed treatment because it sliced the size of the doses by more than half.

When the family contacted Dr. Loftus for an explanation, they were outraged by what they heard. Dr. Loftus told them that he had never recommended lowering the dosage. In a letter, Dr. Loftus wrote that changing Mr. McNaughton’s treatment “would have serious detrimental effects on both his short term and long term health and could potentially involve life threatening complications. This would ultimately incur far greater medical costs. Chris was on the doses suggested by United Healthcare before, and they were not at all effective.”

It would not be until the lawsuit that it would become clear how Dr. Loftus’ conversations had been so seriously misrepresented.

Under questioning by Mr. McNaughton’s lawyers, Ms. Kavanaugh acknowledged that she was the source of the incorrect claim that Mr. McNaughton’s doctor had agreed to a change in treatment.

“I incorrectly made an assumption that they had come to some sort of agreement,” she said in a deposition last August. “It was my first peer-to-peer. I did not realize that that simply does not occur.”

Ms. Kavanaugh did not respond to emails and telephone messages seeking comment.

When the McNaughtons first learned of Mr. Opperman’s inaccurate report of the phone call with Dr. Loftus, it unnerved them. They started to question if their case would be fairly reviewed.

“When we got the denial and they lied about what Dr. Loftus said, it just hit me that none of this matters,” Mr. McNaughton said. “They will just say or do anything to get rid of me. It delegitimized the entire review process. When I got that denial, I was crushed.”


 

A buried report

While the family tried to sort out the inaccurate report, United continued putting the McNaughton case in front of more company doctors.

On May 21, 2021, United sent the case to one of its own doctors, Nady Cates, MD, for an additional review. The review was marked “escalated issue.” Dr. Cates is a United medical director, a title used by many insurers for physicians who review cases. It is work he has been doing as an employee of health insurers since 1989 and at United since 2010. He has not practiced medicine since the early 1990s.

Dr. Cates, in a deposition, said he stopped seeing patients because of the long hours involved and because “AIDS was coming around then. I was seeing a lot of military folks who had venereal diseases, and I guess I was concerned about being exposed.” He transitioned to reviewing paperwork for the insurance industry, he said, because “I guess I was a chicken.”

When he had practiced, Dr. Cates said, he hadn’t treated patients with ulcerative colitis and had referred those cases to a gastroenterologist.

He said his review of Mr. McNaughton’s case primarily involved reading a United nurse’s recommendation to deny his care and making sure “that there wasn’t a decimal place that was out of line.” He said he copied and pasted the nurse’s recommendation and typed “agree” on his review of Mr. McNaughton’s case.

Dr. Cates said that he does about a hundred reviews a week. He said that in his reviews he typically checks to see if any medications are prescribed in accordance with the insurer’s guidelines, and if not, he denies it. United’s policies, he said, prevented him from considering that Mr. McNaughton had failed other treatments or that Dr. Loftus was a leading expert in his field.

“You are giving zero weight to the treating doctor’s opinion on the necessity of the treatment regimen?” a lawyer asked Dr. Cates in his deposition. He responded, “Yeah.”

Attempts to contact Dr. Cates for comment were unsuccessful.

At the same time Dr. Cates was looking at Mr. McNaughton’s case, yet another review was underway at MRIoA. United said it sent the case back to MRIoA after the insurer received the letter from Dr. Loftus warning of the life-threatening complications that might occur if the dosages were reduced.

On May 24, 2021, the new report requested by MRIoA arrived. It came to a completely different conclusion than all of the previous reviews.

Nitin Kumar, MD, a gastroenterologist in Illinois, concluded that Mr. McNaughton’s established treatment plan was not only medically necessary and appropriate but that lowering his doses “can result in a lack of effective therapy of Ulcerative Colitis, with complications of uncontrolled disease (including dysplasia leading to colorectal cancer), flare, hospitalization, need for surgery, and toxic megacolon.”

Unlike other doctors who produced reports for United, Dr. Kumar discussed the harm that Mr. McNaughton might suffer if United required him to change his treatment. “His disease is significantly severe, with diagnosis at a young age,” Dr. Kumar wrote. “He has failed every biologic medication class recommended by guidelines. Therefore, guidelines can no longer be applied in this case.” He cited six studies of patients using two biologic drugs together and wrote that they revealed no significant safety issues and found the therapy to be “broadly successful.”

When Ms. Kavanaugh learned of Dr. Kumar’s report, she quickly moved to quash it and get the case returned to Dr. Pabby, according to her deposition.

In a recorded telephone call, Ms. Kavanaugh told an MRIoA representative that “I had asked that this go back through Dr. Pabby, and it went through a different doctor and they had a much different result.” After further discussion, the MRIoA representative agreed to send the case back to Dr. Pabby. “I appreciate that,” Ms. Kavanaugh replied. “I just want to make sure, because, I mean, it’s obviously a very different result than what we’ve been getting on this case.”

MRIoA case notes show that at 7:04 a.m. on May 25, 2021, Dr. Pabby was assigned to take a look at the case for the third time. At 7:27 a.m., the notes indicate, Dr. Pabby again rejected Mr. McNaughton’s treatment plan. While noting it was “difficult to control” Mr. McNaughton’s ulcerative colitis, Dr. Pabby added that his doses “far exceed what is approved by literature” and that the “safety of the requested doses is not supported by literature.”

In a deposition, Ms. Kavanaugh said that after she opened the Kumar report and read that he was supporting Mr. McNaughton’s current treatment plan, she immediately spoke to her supervisor, who told her to call MRIoA and have the case sent back to Dr. Pabby for review.

Ms. Kavanaugh said she didn’t save a copy of the Kumar report, nor did she forward it to anyone at United or to officials at Penn State who had been inquiring about the McNaughton case. “I didn’t because it shouldn’t have existed,” she said. “It should have gone back to Dr. Pabby.”

When asked if the Kumar report caused her any concerns given his warning that Mr. McNaughton risked cancer or hospitalization if his regimen were changed, Ms. Kavanaugh said she didn’t read his full report. “I saw that it was not the correct doctor, I saw the initial outcome and I was asked to send it back,” she said. Ms. Kavanaugh added, “I have a lot of empathy for this member, but it needed to go back to the peer-to-peer reviewer.”

In a court filing, United said Ms. Kavanaugh was correct in insisting that Dr. Pabby conduct the review and that MRIoA confirmed that Dr. Pabby should have been the one doing the review.

The Kumar report was not provided to Mr. McNaughton when his lawyer, Jonathan M. Gesk, first asked United and MRIoA for any reviews of the case. Mr. Gesk discovered it by accident when he was listening to a recorded telephone call produced by United in which Ms. Kavanaugh mentioned a report number Mr. Gesk had not heard before. He then called MRIoA, which confirmed the report existed and eventually provided it to him.

Dr. Pabby asked ProPublica to direct any questions about his involvement in the matter to MRIoA. The company did not respond to questions from ProPublica about the case.
 

A sense of hopelessness

When Mr. McNaughton enrolled at Penn State in 2020, it brought a sense of normalcy that he had lost when he was first diagnosed with colitis. He still needed monthly hours-long infusions and suffered occasional flare-ups and symptoms, but he was attending classes in person and living a life similar to the one he had before his diagnosis.

It was a striking contrast to the previous 6 years, which he had spent largely confined to his parents’ house in State College. The frequent bouts of diarrhea made it difficult to go out. He didn’t talk much to friends and spent as much time as he could studying potential treatments and reviewing ongoing clinical trials. He tried to keep up with the occasional online course, but his disease made it difficult to make any real progress toward a degree.

United, in correspondence with Mr. McNaughton, noted that its review of his care was “not a treatment decision. Treatment decisions are made between you and your physician.” But by threatening not to pay for his medications, or only to pay for a different regimen, Mr. McNaughton said, United was in fact attempting to dictate his treatment. From his perspective, the insurer was playing doctor, making decisions without ever examining him or even speaking to him.

The idea of changing his treatment or stopping it altogether caused constant worry for Mr. McNaughton, exacerbating his colitis and triggering physical symptoms, according to his doctors. Those included a large ulcer on his leg and welts under his skin on his thighs and shin that made his leg muscles stiff and painful to the point where he couldn’t bend his leg or walk properly. There were daily migraines and severe stomach pain. “I was consumed with this situation,” Mr. McNaughton said. “My path was unconventional, but I was proud of myself for fighting back and finishing school and getting my life back on track. I thought they were singling me out. My biggest fear was going back to the hell.”

Mr. McNaughton said he contemplated suicide on several occasions, dreading a return to a life where he was housebound or hospitalized.

Mr. McNaughton and his parents talked about his possibly moving to Canada where his grandmother lived and seeking treatment there under the nation’s government health plan.

Dr. Loftus connected Mr. McNaughton with a psychologist who specializes in helping patients with chronic digestive diseases.

The psychologist, Tiffany Taft, PsyD, said Mr. McNaughton was not an unusual case. About one in three patients with diseases like colitis suffer from medical trauma or PTSD related to it, she said, often the result of issues related to getting appropriate treatment approved by insurers.

“You get into hopelessness,” she said of the depression that accompanies fighting with insurance companies over care. “They feel like ‘I can’t fix that. I am screwed.’ When you can’t control things with what an insurance company is doing, anxiety, PTSD and depression get mixed together.”

In the case of Mr. McNaughton, Dr. Taft said, he was being treated by one of the best gastroenterologists in the world, was doing well with his treatment, and then was suddenly notified he might be on the hook for nearly a million dollars in medical charges without access to his medications. “It sends you immediately into panic about all these horrific things that could happen,” Dr. Taft said. The physical and mental symptoms Mr. McNaughton suffered after his care was threatened were “triggered” by the stress he experienced, she said.

In early June 2021, United informed Mr. McNaughton in a letter that it would not cover the cost of his treatment regimen in the next academic year, starting in August. The insurer said it would pay only for a treatment plan that called for a significant reduction in the doses of the drugs he took.

United wrote that the decision came after his “records have been reviewed three times and the medical reviewers have concluded that the medication as prescribed does not meet the Medical Necessity requirement of the plan.”

In August 2021, Mr. McNaughton filed a federal lawsuit accusing United of acting in bad faith and unreasonably making treatment decisions based on financial concerns and not what was the best and most effective treatment. It claims United had a duty to find information that supported Mr. McNaughton’s claim for treatment rather than looking for ways to deny coverage.

United, in a court filing, said it did not breach any duty it owed to Mr. McNaughton and acted in good faith. On Sept. 20, 2021, a month after filing the lawsuit, and with United again balking at paying for his treatment, Mr. McNaughton asked a judge to grant a temporary restraining order requiring United to pay for his care. With the looming threat of a court hearing on the motion, United quickly agreed to cover the cost of Mr. McNaughton’s treatment through the end of the 2021-2022 academic year. It also dropped a demand requiring Mr. McNaughton to settle the matter as a condition of the insurer paying for his treatment as prescribed by Dr. Loftus, according to an email sent by United’s lawyer.
 

The cost of treatment

It is not surprising that insurers are carefully scrutinizing the care of patients treated with biologics, which are among the most expensive medications on the market. Biologics are considered specialty drugs, a class that includes the best-selling Humira, used to treat arthritis. Specialty drug spending in the United States is expected to reach $505 billion in 2023, according to an estimate from Optum, United’s health services division. The Institute for Clinical and Economic Review, a nonprofit that analyzes the value of drugs, found in 2020 that the biologic drugs used to treat patients like Mr. McNaughton are often effective but overpriced for their therapeutic benefit. To be judged cost-effective by ICER, the biologics should sell at a steep discount to their current market price, the panel found.

A panel convened by ICER to review its analysis cautioned that insurance coverage “should be structured to prevent situations in which patients are forced to choose a treatment approach on the basis of cost.” ICER also found examples where insurance company policies failed to keep pace with updates to clinical practice guidelines based on emerging research.

United officials did not make the cost of treatment an issue when discussing Mr. McNaughton’s care with Penn State administrators or the family.

Bill Truxal, the president of UnitedHealthcare StudentResources, the company’s student health plan division, told a Penn State official that the insurer wanted the “best for the student” and it had “nothing to do with cost,” according to notes the official took of the conversation.

Behind the scenes, however, the price of Mr. McNaughton’s care was front and center at United.

In one email, Mr. Opperman asked about the cost difference if the insurer insisted on paying only for greatly reduced doses of the biologic drugs. Ms. Kavanaugh responded that the insurer had paid $1.1 million in claims for Mr. McNaughton’s care as of the middle of May 2021. If the reduced doses had been in place, the amount would have been cut to $260,218, she wrote.

United was keeping close tabs on Mr. McNaughton at the highest levels of the company. On Aug. 2, 2021, Mr. Opperman notified Mr. Truxal and a United lawyer that Mr. McNaughton “has just purchased the plan again for the 21-22 school year.”

A month later, Ms. Kavanaugh shared another calculation with United executives showing that the insurer spent over $1.7 million on Mr. McNaughton in the prior plan year.

United officials strategized about how to best explain why it was reviewing Mr. McNaughton’s drug regimen, according to an internal email. They pointed to a justification often used by health insurers when denying claims. “As the cost of healthcare continues to climb to soaring heights, it has been determined that a judicious review of these drugs should be included” in order to “make healthcare more affordable for our members,” Ms. Kavanaugh offered as a potential talking point in an April 23, 2021, email.

Three days later, UnitedHealth Group filed an annual statement with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission disclosing its pay for top executives in the prior year. Then-CEO David Wichmann was paid $17.9 million in salary and other compensation in 2020. Wichmann retired early the following year, and his total compensation that year exceeded $140 million, according to calculations in a compensation database maintained by the Star Tribune in Minneapolis. The newspaper said the amount was the most paid to an executive in the state since it started tracking pay more than 2 decades ago. About $110 million of that total came from Wichmann exercising stock options accumulated during his stewardship.

The McNaughtons were well aware of the financial situation at United. They looked at publicly available financial results and annual reports. Last year, United reported a profit of $20.1 billion on revenues of $324.2 billion.

When discussing the case with Penn State, Ms. Light said, she told university administrators that United could pay for a year of her son’s treatment using just minutes’ worth of profit.
 

‘Betrayed’

Mr. McNaughton has been able to continue receiving his infusions for now, anyway. In October, United notified him it was once again reviewing his care, although the insurer quickly reversed course when his lawyer intervened. United, in a court filing, said the review was a mistake and that it had erred in putting Mr. McNaughton’s claims into pending status.

Mr. McNaughton said he is fortunate his parents were employed at the same school he was attending, which was critical in getting the attention of administrators there. But that help had its limits.

In June 2021, just a week after United told Mr. McNaughton it would not cover his treatment plan in the upcoming plan year, Penn State essentially walked away from the matter.

In an email to the McNaughtons and United, Penn State Associate Vice President for Student Affairs Andrea Dowhower wrote that administrators “have observed an unfortunate breakdown in communication” between Mr. McNaughton and his family and the university health insurance plan, “which appears from our perspective to have resulted in a standstill between the two parties.” While she proposed some potential steps to help settle the matter, she wrote that “Penn State’s role in this process is as a resource for students like Chris who, for whatever reason, have experienced difficulty navigating the complex world of health insurance.” The university’s role “is limited,” she wrote, and the school “simply must leave” the issue of the best treatment for Mr. McNaughton to “the appropriate health care professionals.”

In a statement, a Penn State spokesperson wrote that “as a third party in this arrangement, the University’s role is limited and Penn State officials can only help a student manage an issue based on information that a student/family, medical personnel, and/or insurance provider give – with the hope that all information is accurate and that the lines of communication remain open between the insured and the insurer.”

Penn State declined to provide financial information about the plan. However, the university and United share at least one tie that they have not publicly disclosed.

When the McNaughtons first reached out to the university for help, they were referred to the school’s student health insurance coordinator. The official, Heather Klinger, wrote in an email to the family in February 2021 that “I appreciate your trusting me to resolve this for you.”

In April 2022, United began paying Ms. Klinger’s salary, an arrangement which is not noted on the university website. Ms. Klinger appears in the online staff directory on the Penn State University Health Services web page, and has a university phone number, a university address, and a Penn State email listed as her contact. The school said she has maintained a part-time status with the university to allow her to access relevant data systems at both the university and United.

The university said students “benefit” from having a United employee to handle questions about insurance coverage and that the arrangement is “not uncommon” for student health plans.

The family was dismayed to learn that Ms. Klinger was now a full-time employee of United.

“We did feel betrayed,” Ms. Light said. Ms. Klinger did not respond to an email seeking comment.

Mr. McNaughton’s fight to maintain his treatment regimen has come at a cost of time, debilitating stress, and depression. “My biggest fear is realizing I might have to do this every year of my life,” he said.

Mr. McNaughton said one motivation for his lawsuit was to expose how insurers like United make decisions about what care they will pay for and what they will not. The case remains pending, a court docket shows.

He has been accepted to Penn State’s law school. He hopes to become a health care lawyer working for patients who find themselves in situations similar to his.

He plans to re-enroll in the United health care plan when he starts school next fall.

This story was originally published on ProPublica. ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up to receive the biggest stories as soon as they’re published.

Pounding heart, sweating, insomnia. Surges of dopamine, norepinephrine, and adrenaline. All symptoms of a very common yet frustrating condition: Falling in love.

The prognosis is vague. A prescription pad and knowledge of biochemistry aren’t helpful when it comes to relationships.

Medical training can consume decades when others are exploring relationships and starting families. There are few recent data on this, but a 2012 longitudinal study of more than 20,000 physicians by the UK Medical Careers Research Group found that, by age 25, the rate of doctors who were in partnerships was far lower than in the general population.

But there is hope! By age 36, the number of doctors in long-term relationships had overtaken everyone else by more than 10% for women and 20% for men. The Medscape 2022 Physician Happiness & Lifestyle Report found that 83% were in committed relationships, and even better, happy ones. At least three-quarters of doctors in every specialty described their partnerships as “very good” or “good.”

How should a single medical student, resident, or attending physician find happiness ever after in 2023? Sometimes Mr./Ms. Right can be found in the anatomy lab or hospital, with sparks flying between students or colleagues. But for many in health care, along with millions of others looking for love, the solution is dating apps.
 

When ‘MD’ is a turnoff

Dr. M, a psychiatry resident in California who prefers not to give her name, hadn’t found a life partner during college, grad school, or medical school. When she passed her final Step 3 board exam, she decided it was time to take the plunge. She signed up for popular dating apps like Hinge, Bumble, and Coffee Meets Bagel, but her dates seemed to follow a disappointing pattern.

“I met lots of guys, but it was incredibly rare to find another physician,” said Dr. M. “I found myself always wanting to talk about my life as a resident. More often than not, the guys would give me this blank stare as I complained about being on call or spoke about spending 12 hours a day studying for a board exam, or even the process of The Match and how I ended up in California.”

Both of Dr. M’s parents are physicians, and she grew up watching how they supported each other through residency, exams, and exhausting schedules. A relationship with another physician, her parents told her, would give both partners the best chance to understand each other’s lives. The problem was how to find one.

That was when Dr. M saw an ad for a dating app with a cute medical name: DownToDate, a play on the clinical evidence resource UpToDate. “I thought it was a meme,” she said. “It was this doctors-only app. I remember thinking, ‘this has to be a joke,’ but then it was very real.”

She signed up and was required to provide a photo of her ID and her NPI number. Immediately, men began “requesting a consult,” the app’s form of “liking” her profile, and sending her “pages” (messages).

DownToDate was created by another physician, Robin Boyer, MD, MBA, a pediatrics resident in Loma Linda, Calif. The inspiration came in 2020 during the initial COVID crisis. Exhausted from long and often heartbreaking shifts, Dr. Boyer was grateful for her husband’s unwavering support. But many of her coresidents weren’t so lucky. The women in particular talked about their dating struggles, and there was a recurring theme. They didn’t feel confident putting “physician” on a dating site profile.

“If you’re male and you tell people you’re a doctor, it seems like it really attracts people,” Dr. Boyer said. “But if you’re female, it brings up a lot of stereotypes where you’re perceived as too intimidating either as the breadwinner, being more educated, or having a [demanding] career. It does make it more difficult.”

Dr. Boyer met her husband in high school, and she had never used a dating app. She convinced a coresident, Celestine Odigwe, MD, to pursue the idea as partners. They began researching the market within their network and heard from over a thousand interested physicians, both men and women, heterosexual and LGBTQ+. They even created fake accounts on other sites to gauge how easy it is to falsify a profile. From these insights, the app took shape. It launched in 2021 and currently has more than 5000 verified users.
 

Branches from the same tree

Around the same time that DownToDate began, Shivani Shah, DO, a pediatric neurology resident at Duke University, Durham, N.C., and her brother, Sagar Shah, an entrepreneur, had a similar idea.

At the time, Dr. Shah was a fourth-year medical student about to move from New Jersey to North Carolina. Friends who were internal medicine residents described the grueling reality of the early COVID pandemic.

“It was just horrible,” said Dr. Shah. “You were isolated from your family, your support system, everything. ... I think the pandemic really pushed us into realizing that this is a very important need, and sometimes it feels like community is lacking in the health care field.”

The sibling duo developed ForeverX, an app for health care workers to find meaningful and long-term romantic connections. It launched in 2021.

Concerned that the medical field was “siloed,” the Shahs chose to open the app to physicians, dentists, nurses, physical therapists, and other health care professionals. “Opening up the doors to more communication” between the health care branches was a priority.

To prevent catfishing, the app uses a twofold vetting system. Each user submits a photo of their driver’s license and a selfie that must match. There is also health care verification through an NPI number, nurse’s ID, or a manual process for those without either. None of the information is stored.

Through personal experience with dating apps, Dr. Shah hopes ForeverX can improve on some of their flaws, particularly the problem of matches being overly filtered by preferences. The “natural way” of meeting people is not filtered. And while most people have a dating checklist in mind, meeting someone face to face might send some of those prerequisites “out the window.”

“You can’t really put into words how you feel with someone ... the vibe,” Dr. Shah said. That is why her goal is to get people off the app and on an actual date IRL. “Something we’ve discussed internally is, how do we make this experience that’s virtual more human?”

She acknowledged that certain requirements, like a desire for children, might be crucial to some users. Many female doctors in their 30’s feel the “time crunch” of a ticking biological clock.
 

Optimize your date-ability

“I think people either love or hate dating apps, and I love them,” said Kevin Jubbal, MD. “I get to meet cool people and schedule dates from the comfort of my home.”

Dr. Jubbal, a former plastic surgery resident who left medicine to become an entrepreneur, is the founder of Med School Insiders, a tutoring and advising resource for premeds, medical students, and residents. His YouTube channel has more than 1.5 million subscribers, and he often receives questions about whether dating is feasible in medical school and how to balance a personal and academic/professional life.

Those who hate dating apps or receive few matches would do well to look inward instead of blaming the process, he said. It helps to view the experience as a learning tool that provides feedback very quickly.

“If you want to find a really amazing person, then you need to be what you want to find,” said Dr. Jubbal. “If you want to find someone who’s fit and intelligent and well read and well traveled, you need to be that. Otherwise, you’re probably not going to attract that person.”
 

An app designed to help single female MDs

Ifie Williams, MD, a psychiatrist in Washington, D.C., believes a wider dating pool is key – provided everyone understands the situation up front. When Dr. Williams started residency in 2014, she was “as single as can be.” She tried many dating apps, but they were extremely time consuming. Even when she set specific preferences, she found herself sifting through “matches” that didn’t fit her criteria.

“Dating nowadays has become almost like a second job,” said Dr. Williams. “Just the amount of time that people are having to spend on apps, swiping left and right and then meeting people. You think they’re interested and then you deal with all these games.”

By 2017, Dr. Williams had invented Miss Doctor, a dating app that would connect female physicians and other doctoral-level professionals with men or women on a similar achievement level.

By definition, these people would not be intimidated by ambitious, busy women. They would be heavily screened and vetted. And one other proviso: they would have to pay for “likes.”

Most dating apps charge a subscription fee. Users are allowed to “like” numerous profiles and perhaps not bother responding to many matches. By contrast, Miss Doctor accounts are free and include a limited number of “likes” to indicate interest. Beyond that, there’s a price.

“We wanted to find a way to make people a little more intentional with how they like people on the app, so they give a little more thought to it,” Dr. Williams said. “So, we monetize it and use that to change behavior.”

After an initial launch in 2017, the app had to take a back seat while Dr. Williams started her psychiatry practice and got married herself. She plans to relaunch it in spring 2023.

Male or female, there is general agreement that finding time to date as a young physician isn’t easy. While DownToDate has had “doctor meets doctor” success stories, many users are still searching for “the one.”

Dr. Boyer believes that career challenges are not a reason to give up. “There are so many single and available people out there,” she said. “And everyone’s deserving of love. Even if you only have an hour a week.”

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

Pounding heart, sweating, insomnia. Surges of dopamine, norepinephrine, and adrenaline. All symptoms of a very common yet frustrating condition: Falling in love.

The prognosis is vague. A prescription pad and knowledge of biochemistry aren’t helpful when it comes to relationships.

Medical training can consume decades when others are exploring relationships and starting families. There are few recent data on this, but a 2012 longitudinal study of more than 20,000 physicians by the UK Medical Careers Research Group found that, by age 25, the rate of doctors who were in partnerships was far lower than in the general population.

But there is hope! By age 36, the number of doctors in long-term relationships had overtaken everyone else by more than 10% for women and 20% for men. The Medscape 2022 Physician Happiness & Lifestyle Report found that 83% were in committed relationships, and even better, happy ones. At least three-quarters of doctors in every specialty described their partnerships as “very good” or “good.”

How should a single medical student, resident, or attending physician find happiness ever after in 2023? Sometimes Mr./Ms. Right can be found in the anatomy lab or hospital, with sparks flying between students or colleagues. But for many in health care, along with millions of others looking for love, the solution is dating apps.
 

When ‘MD’ is a turnoff

Dr. M, a psychiatry resident in California who prefers not to give her name, hadn’t found a life partner during college, grad school, or medical school. When she passed her final Step 3 board exam, she decided it was time to take the plunge. She signed up for popular dating apps like Hinge, Bumble, and Coffee Meets Bagel, but her dates seemed to follow a disappointing pattern.

“I met lots of guys, but it was incredibly rare to find another physician,” said Dr. M. “I found myself always wanting to talk about my life as a resident. More often than not, the guys would give me this blank stare as I complained about being on call or spoke about spending 12 hours a day studying for a board exam, or even the process of The Match and how I ended up in California.”

Both of Dr. M’s parents are physicians, and she grew up watching how they supported each other through residency, exams, and exhausting schedules. A relationship with another physician, her parents told her, would give both partners the best chance to understand each other’s lives. The problem was how to find one.

That was when Dr. M saw an ad for a dating app with a cute medical name: DownToDate, a play on the clinical evidence resource UpToDate. “I thought it was a meme,” she said. “It was this doctors-only app. I remember thinking, ‘this has to be a joke,’ but then it was very real.”

She signed up and was required to provide a photo of her ID and her NPI number. Immediately, men began “requesting a consult,” the app’s form of “liking” her profile, and sending her “pages” (messages).

DownToDate was created by another physician, Robin Boyer, MD, MBA, a pediatrics resident in Loma Linda, Calif. The inspiration came in 2020 during the initial COVID crisis. Exhausted from long and often heartbreaking shifts, Dr. Boyer was grateful for her husband’s unwavering support. But many of her coresidents weren’t so lucky. The women in particular talked about their dating struggles, and there was a recurring theme. They didn’t feel confident putting “physician” on a dating site profile.

“If you’re male and you tell people you’re a doctor, it seems like it really attracts people,” Dr. Boyer said. “But if you’re female, it brings up a lot of stereotypes where you’re perceived as too intimidating either as the breadwinner, being more educated, or having a [demanding] career. It does make it more difficult.”

Dr. Boyer met her husband in high school, and she had never used a dating app. She convinced a coresident, Celestine Odigwe, MD, to pursue the idea as partners. They began researching the market within their network and heard from over a thousand interested physicians, both men and women, heterosexual and LGBTQ+. They even created fake accounts on other sites to gauge how easy it is to falsify a profile. From these insights, the app took shape. It launched in 2021 and currently has more than 5000 verified users.
 

Branches from the same tree

Around the same time that DownToDate began, Shivani Shah, DO, a pediatric neurology resident at Duke University, Durham, N.C., and her brother, Sagar Shah, an entrepreneur, had a similar idea.

At the time, Dr. Shah was a fourth-year medical student about to move from New Jersey to North Carolina. Friends who were internal medicine residents described the grueling reality of the early COVID pandemic.

“It was just horrible,” said Dr. Shah. “You were isolated from your family, your support system, everything. ... I think the pandemic really pushed us into realizing that this is a very important need, and sometimes it feels like community is lacking in the health care field.”

The sibling duo developed ForeverX, an app for health care workers to find meaningful and long-term romantic connections. It launched in 2021.

Concerned that the medical field was “siloed,” the Shahs chose to open the app to physicians, dentists, nurses, physical therapists, and other health care professionals. “Opening up the doors to more communication” between the health care branches was a priority.

To prevent catfishing, the app uses a twofold vetting system. Each user submits a photo of their driver’s license and a selfie that must match. There is also health care verification through an NPI number, nurse’s ID, or a manual process for those without either. None of the information is stored.

Through personal experience with dating apps, Dr. Shah hopes ForeverX can improve on some of their flaws, particularly the problem of matches being overly filtered by preferences. The “natural way” of meeting people is not filtered. And while most people have a dating checklist in mind, meeting someone face to face might send some of those prerequisites “out the window.”

“You can’t really put into words how you feel with someone ... the vibe,” Dr. Shah said. That is why her goal is to get people off the app and on an actual date IRL. “Something we’ve discussed internally is, how do we make this experience that’s virtual more human?”

She acknowledged that certain requirements, like a desire for children, might be crucial to some users. Many female doctors in their 30’s feel the “time crunch” of a ticking biological clock.
 

Optimize your date-ability

“I think people either love or hate dating apps, and I love them,” said Kevin Jubbal, MD. “I get to meet cool people and schedule dates from the comfort of my home.”

Dr. Jubbal, a former plastic surgery resident who left medicine to become an entrepreneur, is the founder of Med School Insiders, a tutoring and advising resource for premeds, medical students, and residents. His YouTube channel has more than 1.5 million subscribers, and he often receives questions about whether dating is feasible in medical school and how to balance a personal and academic/professional life.

Those who hate dating apps or receive few matches would do well to look inward instead of blaming the process, he said. It helps to view the experience as a learning tool that provides feedback very quickly.

“If you want to find a really amazing person, then you need to be what you want to find,” said Dr. Jubbal. “If you want to find someone who’s fit and intelligent and well read and well traveled, you need to be that. Otherwise, you’re probably not going to attract that person.”
 

An app designed to help single female MDs

Ifie Williams, MD, a psychiatrist in Washington, D.C., believes a wider dating pool is key – provided everyone understands the situation up front. When Dr. Williams started residency in 2014, she was “as single as can be.” She tried many dating apps, but they were extremely time consuming. Even when she set specific preferences, she found herself sifting through “matches” that didn’t fit her criteria.

“Dating nowadays has become almost like a second job,” said Dr. Williams. “Just the amount of time that people are having to spend on apps, swiping left and right and then meeting people. You think they’re interested and then you deal with all these games.”

By 2017, Dr. Williams had invented Miss Doctor, a dating app that would connect female physicians and other doctoral-level professionals with men or women on a similar achievement level.

By definition, these people would not be intimidated by ambitious, busy women. They would be heavily screened and vetted. And one other proviso: they would have to pay for “likes.”

Most dating apps charge a subscription fee. Users are allowed to “like” numerous profiles and perhaps not bother responding to many matches. By contrast, Miss Doctor accounts are free and include a limited number of “likes” to indicate interest. Beyond that, there’s a price.

“We wanted to find a way to make people a little more intentional with how they like people on the app, so they give a little more thought to it,” Dr. Williams said. “So, we monetize it and use that to change behavior.”

After an initial launch in 2017, the app had to take a back seat while Dr. Williams started her psychiatry practice and got married herself. She plans to relaunch it in spring 2023.

Male or female, there is general agreement that finding time to date as a young physician isn’t easy. While DownToDate has had “doctor meets doctor” success stories, many users are still searching for “the one.”

Dr. Boyer believes that career challenges are not a reason to give up. “There are so many single and available people out there,” she said. “And everyone’s deserving of love. Even if you only have an hour a week.”

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

Pounding heart, sweating, insomnia. Surges of dopamine, norepinephrine, and adrenaline. All symptoms of a very common yet frustrating condition: Falling in love.

The prognosis is vague. A prescription pad and knowledge of biochemistry aren’t helpful when it comes to relationships.

Medical training can consume decades when others are exploring relationships and starting families. There are few recent data on this, but a 2012 longitudinal study of more than 20,000 physicians by the UK Medical Careers Research Group found that, by age 25, the rate of doctors who were in partnerships was far lower than in the general population.

But there is hope! By age 36, the number of doctors in long-term relationships had overtaken everyone else by more than 10% for women and 20% for men. The Medscape 2022 Physician Happiness & Lifestyle Report found that 83% were in committed relationships, and even better, happy ones. At least three-quarters of doctors in every specialty described their partnerships as “very good” or “good.”

How should a single medical student, resident, or attending physician find happiness ever after in 2023? Sometimes Mr./Ms. Right can be found in the anatomy lab or hospital, with sparks flying between students or colleagues. But for many in health care, along with millions of others looking for love, the solution is dating apps.
 

When ‘MD’ is a turnoff

Dr. M, a psychiatry resident in California who prefers not to give her name, hadn’t found a life partner during college, grad school, or medical school. When she passed her final Step 3 board exam, she decided it was time to take the plunge. She signed up for popular dating apps like Hinge, Bumble, and Coffee Meets Bagel, but her dates seemed to follow a disappointing pattern.

“I met lots of guys, but it was incredibly rare to find another physician,” said Dr. M. “I found myself always wanting to talk about my life as a resident. More often than not, the guys would give me this blank stare as I complained about being on call or spoke about spending 12 hours a day studying for a board exam, or even the process of The Match and how I ended up in California.”

Both of Dr. M’s parents are physicians, and she grew up watching how they supported each other through residency, exams, and exhausting schedules. A relationship with another physician, her parents told her, would give both partners the best chance to understand each other’s lives. The problem was how to find one.

That was when Dr. M saw an ad for a dating app with a cute medical name: DownToDate, a play on the clinical evidence resource UpToDate. “I thought it was a meme,” she said. “It was this doctors-only app. I remember thinking, ‘this has to be a joke,’ but then it was very real.”

She signed up and was required to provide a photo of her ID and her NPI number. Immediately, men began “requesting a consult,” the app’s form of “liking” her profile, and sending her “pages” (messages).

DownToDate was created by another physician, Robin Boyer, MD, MBA, a pediatrics resident in Loma Linda, Calif. The inspiration came in 2020 during the initial COVID crisis. Exhausted from long and often heartbreaking shifts, Dr. Boyer was grateful for her husband’s unwavering support. But many of her coresidents weren’t so lucky. The women in particular talked about their dating struggles, and there was a recurring theme. They didn’t feel confident putting “physician” on a dating site profile.

“If you’re male and you tell people you’re a doctor, it seems like it really attracts people,” Dr. Boyer said. “But if you’re female, it brings up a lot of stereotypes where you’re perceived as too intimidating either as the breadwinner, being more educated, or having a [demanding] career. It does make it more difficult.”

Dr. Boyer met her husband in high school, and she had never used a dating app. She convinced a coresident, Celestine Odigwe, MD, to pursue the idea as partners. They began researching the market within their network and heard from over a thousand interested physicians, both men and women, heterosexual and LGBTQ+. They even created fake accounts on other sites to gauge how easy it is to falsify a profile. From these insights, the app took shape. It launched in 2021 and currently has more than 5000 verified users.
 

Branches from the same tree

Around the same time that DownToDate began, Shivani Shah, DO, a pediatric neurology resident at Duke University, Durham, N.C., and her brother, Sagar Shah, an entrepreneur, had a similar idea.

At the time, Dr. Shah was a fourth-year medical student about to move from New Jersey to North Carolina. Friends who were internal medicine residents described the grueling reality of the early COVID pandemic.

“It was just horrible,” said Dr. Shah. “You were isolated from your family, your support system, everything. ... I think the pandemic really pushed us into realizing that this is a very important need, and sometimes it feels like community is lacking in the health care field.”

The sibling duo developed ForeverX, an app for health care workers to find meaningful and long-term romantic connections. It launched in 2021.

Concerned that the medical field was “siloed,” the Shahs chose to open the app to physicians, dentists, nurses, physical therapists, and other health care professionals. “Opening up the doors to more communication” between the health care branches was a priority.

To prevent catfishing, the app uses a twofold vetting system. Each user submits a photo of their driver’s license and a selfie that must match. There is also health care verification through an NPI number, nurse’s ID, or a manual process for those without either. None of the information is stored.

Through personal experience with dating apps, Dr. Shah hopes ForeverX can improve on some of their flaws, particularly the problem of matches being overly filtered by preferences. The “natural way” of meeting people is not filtered. And while most people have a dating checklist in mind, meeting someone face to face might send some of those prerequisites “out the window.”

“You can’t really put into words how you feel with someone ... the vibe,” Dr. Shah said. That is why her goal is to get people off the app and on an actual date IRL. “Something we’ve discussed internally is, how do we make this experience that’s virtual more human?”

She acknowledged that certain requirements, like a desire for children, might be crucial to some users. Many female doctors in their 30’s feel the “time crunch” of a ticking biological clock.
 

Optimize your date-ability

“I think people either love or hate dating apps, and I love them,” said Kevin Jubbal, MD. “I get to meet cool people and schedule dates from the comfort of my home.”

Dr. Jubbal, a former plastic surgery resident who left medicine to become an entrepreneur, is the founder of Med School Insiders, a tutoring and advising resource for premeds, medical students, and residents. His YouTube channel has more than 1.5 million subscribers, and he often receives questions about whether dating is feasible in medical school and how to balance a personal and academic/professional life.

Those who hate dating apps or receive few matches would do well to look inward instead of blaming the process, he said. It helps to view the experience as a learning tool that provides feedback very quickly.

“If you want to find a really amazing person, then you need to be what you want to find,” said Dr. Jubbal. “If you want to find someone who’s fit and intelligent and well read and well traveled, you need to be that. Otherwise, you’re probably not going to attract that person.”
 

An app designed to help single female MDs

Ifie Williams, MD, a psychiatrist in Washington, D.C., believes a wider dating pool is key – provided everyone understands the situation up front. When Dr. Williams started residency in 2014, she was “as single as can be.” She tried many dating apps, but they were extremely time consuming. Even when she set specific preferences, she found herself sifting through “matches” that didn’t fit her criteria.

“Dating nowadays has become almost like a second job,” said Dr. Williams. “Just the amount of time that people are having to spend on apps, swiping left and right and then meeting people. You think they’re interested and then you deal with all these games.”

By 2017, Dr. Williams had invented Miss Doctor, a dating app that would connect female physicians and other doctoral-level professionals with men or women on a similar achievement level.

By definition, these people would not be intimidated by ambitious, busy women. They would be heavily screened and vetted. And one other proviso: they would have to pay for “likes.”

Most dating apps charge a subscription fee. Users are allowed to “like” numerous profiles and perhaps not bother responding to many matches. By contrast, Miss Doctor accounts are free and include a limited number of “likes” to indicate interest. Beyond that, there’s a price.

“We wanted to find a way to make people a little more intentional with how they like people on the app, so they give a little more thought to it,” Dr. Williams said. “So, we monetize it and use that to change behavior.”

After an initial launch in 2017, the app had to take a back seat while Dr. Williams started her psychiatry practice and got married herself. She plans to relaunch it in spring 2023.

Male or female, there is general agreement that finding time to date as a young physician isn’t easy. While DownToDate has had “doctor meets doctor” success stories, many users are still searching for “the one.”

Dr. Boyer believes that career challenges are not a reason to give up. “There are so many single and available people out there,” she said. “And everyone’s deserving of love. Even if you only have an hour a week.”

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

On-call specialist incurred a clear ‘duty of care,’ court rules

An Illinois doctor who consulted with a patient’s treating physician but never actually saw the patient himself can’t escape a medical malpractice claim, a state appeals court ruled late in January.

The appeals decision is the result of a case involving the late Dennis Blagden.

On July 26, 2017, Mr. Blagden arrived at the Graham Hospital ED, in Canton, Ill., complaining of neck pain and an insect bite that had resulted in a swollen elbow. His ED doctor, Matthew McMillin, MD, who worked for Coleman Medical Associates, ordered tests and prescribed an anti-inflammatory pain medication and a muscle relaxant.

Dr. McMillin consulted via telephone with Kenneth Krock, MD, an internal medicine specialist and pediatrician, who was on call that day and who enjoyed admitting privileges at Graham. (Krock was also an employee of Coleman Medical Associates, which provided clinical staffing for the hospital.)

Dr. Krock had final admitting authority in this instance. Court records show that Dr. McMillin and he agreed that the patient could be discharged from the ED, despite Krock’s differential diagnosis indicating a possible infection.

Three days later, now with “hypercapnic respiratory failure, sepsis, and an altered mental state,” Mr. Blagden was again seen at the Graham Hospital ED. Mr. Blagden underwent intubation by Dr. McMillin, his original ED doctor, and was airlifted to Methodist Medical Center, in Peoria, 30 miles away. There, an MRI showed that he’d developed a spinal epidural abscess. On Aug. 7, 2017, a little over a week after his admission to Methodist, Mr. Blagden died from complications of his infection.

In January 2019, Mr. Blagden’s wife, Judy, filed a suit against Dr. McMillin, his practice, and Graham Hospital, which is a part of Graham Health System. Her suit alleged medical negligence in the death of her husband.

About 6 months later, Mr.s Blagden amended her original complaint, adding a second count of medical negligence against Dr. Krock; his practice and employer, Coleman Medical Associates; and Graham Hospital. In her amended complaint, Mrs. Blagden alleged that although Krock hadn’t actually seen her husband Dennis, his consultation with Dr. McMillin was sufficient to establish a doctor-patient relationship and thus a legal duty of care. That duty, Mrs. Blagden further alleged, was breached when Dr. Krock failed both to rule out her husband’s “infectious process” and to admit him for proper follow-up monitoring.

In July 2021, after the case had been transferred from Peoria County to Fulton County, Dr. Krock cried foul. In a motion to the court for summary judgment – that is, a ruling prior to an actual trial – he and his practice put forth the following argument: As a mere on-call consultant that day in 2017, he had neither seen the patient nor established a relationship with him, thereby precluding his legal duty of care.

The trial court judge agreed and granted both Dr. Krock and Dr. Coleman the summary judgment they had sought.

Mrs. Blagden then appealed to the Appellate Court of Illinois, Fourth District, which is located in Springfield.

In its unanimous decision, the three-judge panel reversed the lower court’s ruling. Taking direct aim at Dr. Krock’s earlier motion, Justice Eugene Doherty, who wrote the panel’s opinion, said that state law had long established that “the special relationship giving rise to a duty of care may exist even in the absence of any meeting between the physician and the patient where the physician performs specific services for the benefit of the patient.”

As Justice Doherty explained, Dr. Krock’s status that day as both the on-call doctor and the one with final admitting authority undermined his argument for summary judgment. Also undermining it, Justice Doherty added, was the fact that the conversation between the two doctors that day in 2017 was a formal exchange “contemplated by hospital bylaws.”

“While public policy should encourage informal consultations between physicians,” the justice continued, “it must not ignore actual physician involvement in decisions that directly affect a patient’s care.”

Following the Fourth District decision, the suit against Dr. McMillin, Dr. Krock, and the other defendants has now been tossed back to the trial court for further proceedings. At press time, no trial date had been set.
 

Will this proposed damages cap help retain more physicians?

Fear of a doctor shortage, triggered in part by a recent history of large payouts, has prompted Iowa lawmakers to push for new state caps on medical malpractice awards, as a story in the Des Moines Register reports.

Currently, Iowa caps most noneconomic damages – including those for pain and suffering – at $250,000, which is among the lowest such caps in the nation.

Under existing Iowa law, however, the limit doesn’t apply in extraordinary cases – that is, those involving “substantial or permanent loss of body function, substantial disfigurement, or death.” It also isn’t applicable in cases in which a jury decides that a defendant acted with intentional malice.

Lawmakers and Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds would like to change this.

Under a Senate bill that has now passed out of committee and is awaiting debate on the Senate floor, even plaintiffs involved in extreme cases would receive no more than $1 million to compensate for their pain, suffering, or emotional distress. (The bill also includes a 2.1% annual hike to compensate for inflation. A similar bill, which adds “loss of pregnancy” to the list of extreme cases, has advanced to the House floor.)

Supporters say the proposed cap would help to limit mega awards. In Johnson County in March 2022, for instance, a jury awarded $97.4 million to the parents of a young boy who sustained severe brain injuries during his delivery, causing the clinic that had been involved in the case to file for bankruptcy. This award was nearly three times the total payouts ($35 million) in the entire state of Iowa in all of 2021, a year in which there were 192 closed claims, including at least a dozen that resulted in payouts of $1 million or more.

Supporters also think the proposed cap will mitigate what they see as a looming doctor shortage, especially among ob.gyns. in eastern Iowa. “I just cannot overstate how much this is affecting our workforce, and that turns into effects for the women and the children, the babies, in our state,” Shannon Leveridge, MD, an obstetrician in Davenport said. “In order to keep these women and their babies safe, we need doctors.”

But critics of the bill, including some lawmakers and the trial bar, say it overreaches, even in the case of the $97.4 million award.

“They don’t want to talk about the actual damages that are caused by medical negligence,” explained a spokesman for the trial lawyers. “So, you don’t hear about the fact that, of the $50 million of economic damages ... most of that is going to go to the 24/7 care for this child for the rest of his life.”

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

On-call specialist incurred a clear ‘duty of care,’ court rules

An Illinois doctor who consulted with a patient’s treating physician but never actually saw the patient himself can’t escape a medical malpractice claim, a state appeals court ruled late in January.

The appeals decision is the result of a case involving the late Dennis Blagden.

On July 26, 2017, Mr. Blagden arrived at the Graham Hospital ED, in Canton, Ill., complaining of neck pain and an insect bite that had resulted in a swollen elbow. His ED doctor, Matthew McMillin, MD, who worked for Coleman Medical Associates, ordered tests and prescribed an anti-inflammatory pain medication and a muscle relaxant.

Dr. McMillin consulted via telephone with Kenneth Krock, MD, an internal medicine specialist and pediatrician, who was on call that day and who enjoyed admitting privileges at Graham. (Krock was also an employee of Coleman Medical Associates, which provided clinical staffing for the hospital.)

Dr. Krock had final admitting authority in this instance. Court records show that Dr. McMillin and he agreed that the patient could be discharged from the ED, despite Krock’s differential diagnosis indicating a possible infection.

Three days later, now with “hypercapnic respiratory failure, sepsis, and an altered mental state,” Mr. Blagden was again seen at the Graham Hospital ED. Mr. Blagden underwent intubation by Dr. McMillin, his original ED doctor, and was airlifted to Methodist Medical Center, in Peoria, 30 miles away. There, an MRI showed that he’d developed a spinal epidural abscess. On Aug. 7, 2017, a little over a week after his admission to Methodist, Mr. Blagden died from complications of his infection.

In January 2019, Mr. Blagden’s wife, Judy, filed a suit against Dr. McMillin, his practice, and Graham Hospital, which is a part of Graham Health System. Her suit alleged medical negligence in the death of her husband.

About 6 months later, Mr.s Blagden amended her original complaint, adding a second count of medical negligence against Dr. Krock; his practice and employer, Coleman Medical Associates; and Graham Hospital. In her amended complaint, Mrs. Blagden alleged that although Krock hadn’t actually seen her husband Dennis, his consultation with Dr. McMillin was sufficient to establish a doctor-patient relationship and thus a legal duty of care. That duty, Mrs. Blagden further alleged, was breached when Dr. Krock failed both to rule out her husband’s “infectious process” and to admit him for proper follow-up monitoring.

In July 2021, after the case had been transferred from Peoria County to Fulton County, Dr. Krock cried foul. In a motion to the court for summary judgment – that is, a ruling prior to an actual trial – he and his practice put forth the following argument: As a mere on-call consultant that day in 2017, he had neither seen the patient nor established a relationship with him, thereby precluding his legal duty of care.

The trial court judge agreed and granted both Dr. Krock and Dr. Coleman the summary judgment they had sought.

Mrs. Blagden then appealed to the Appellate Court of Illinois, Fourth District, which is located in Springfield.

In its unanimous decision, the three-judge panel reversed the lower court’s ruling. Taking direct aim at Dr. Krock’s earlier motion, Justice Eugene Doherty, who wrote the panel’s opinion, said that state law had long established that “the special relationship giving rise to a duty of care may exist even in the absence of any meeting between the physician and the patient where the physician performs specific services for the benefit of the patient.”

As Justice Doherty explained, Dr. Krock’s status that day as both the on-call doctor and the one with final admitting authority undermined his argument for summary judgment. Also undermining it, Justice Doherty added, was the fact that the conversation between the two doctors that day in 2017 was a formal exchange “contemplated by hospital bylaws.”

“While public policy should encourage informal consultations between physicians,” the justice continued, “it must not ignore actual physician involvement in decisions that directly affect a patient’s care.”

Following the Fourth District decision, the suit against Dr. McMillin, Dr. Krock, and the other defendants has now been tossed back to the trial court for further proceedings. At press time, no trial date had been set.
 

Will this proposed damages cap help retain more physicians?

Fear of a doctor shortage, triggered in part by a recent history of large payouts, has prompted Iowa lawmakers to push for new state caps on medical malpractice awards, as a story in the Des Moines Register reports.

Currently, Iowa caps most noneconomic damages – including those for pain and suffering – at $250,000, which is among the lowest such caps in the nation.

Under existing Iowa law, however, the limit doesn’t apply in extraordinary cases – that is, those involving “substantial or permanent loss of body function, substantial disfigurement, or death.” It also isn’t applicable in cases in which a jury decides that a defendant acted with intentional malice.

Lawmakers and Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds would like to change this.

Under a Senate bill that has now passed out of committee and is awaiting debate on the Senate floor, even plaintiffs involved in extreme cases would receive no more than $1 million to compensate for their pain, suffering, or emotional distress. (The bill also includes a 2.1% annual hike to compensate for inflation. A similar bill, which adds “loss of pregnancy” to the list of extreme cases, has advanced to the House floor.)

Supporters say the proposed cap would help to limit mega awards. In Johnson County in March 2022, for instance, a jury awarded $97.4 million to the parents of a young boy who sustained severe brain injuries during his delivery, causing the clinic that had been involved in the case to file for bankruptcy. This award was nearly three times the total payouts ($35 million) in the entire state of Iowa in all of 2021, a year in which there were 192 closed claims, including at least a dozen that resulted in payouts of $1 million or more.

Supporters also think the proposed cap will mitigate what they see as a looming doctor shortage, especially among ob.gyns. in eastern Iowa. “I just cannot overstate how much this is affecting our workforce, and that turns into effects for the women and the children, the babies, in our state,” Shannon Leveridge, MD, an obstetrician in Davenport said. “In order to keep these women and their babies safe, we need doctors.”

But critics of the bill, including some lawmakers and the trial bar, say it overreaches, even in the case of the $97.4 million award.

“They don’t want to talk about the actual damages that are caused by medical negligence,” explained a spokesman for the trial lawyers. “So, you don’t hear about the fact that, of the $50 million of economic damages ... most of that is going to go to the 24/7 care for this child for the rest of his life.”

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

On-call specialist incurred a clear ‘duty of care,’ court rules

An Illinois doctor who consulted with a patient’s treating physician but never actually saw the patient himself can’t escape a medical malpractice claim, a state appeals court ruled late in January.

The appeals decision is the result of a case involving the late Dennis Blagden.

On July 26, 2017, Mr. Blagden arrived at the Graham Hospital ED, in Canton, Ill., complaining of neck pain and an insect bite that had resulted in a swollen elbow. His ED doctor, Matthew McMillin, MD, who worked for Coleman Medical Associates, ordered tests and prescribed an anti-inflammatory pain medication and a muscle relaxant.

Dr. McMillin consulted via telephone with Kenneth Krock, MD, an internal medicine specialist and pediatrician, who was on call that day and who enjoyed admitting privileges at Graham. (Krock was also an employee of Coleman Medical Associates, which provided clinical staffing for the hospital.)

Dr. Krock had final admitting authority in this instance. Court records show that Dr. McMillin and he agreed that the patient could be discharged from the ED, despite Krock’s differential diagnosis indicating a possible infection.

Three days later, now with “hypercapnic respiratory failure, sepsis, and an altered mental state,” Mr. Blagden was again seen at the Graham Hospital ED. Mr. Blagden underwent intubation by Dr. McMillin, his original ED doctor, and was airlifted to Methodist Medical Center, in Peoria, 30 miles away. There, an MRI showed that he’d developed a spinal epidural abscess. On Aug. 7, 2017, a little over a week after his admission to Methodist, Mr. Blagden died from complications of his infection.

In January 2019, Mr. Blagden’s wife, Judy, filed a suit against Dr. McMillin, his practice, and Graham Hospital, which is a part of Graham Health System. Her suit alleged medical negligence in the death of her husband.

About 6 months later, Mr.s Blagden amended her original complaint, adding a second count of medical negligence against Dr. Krock; his practice and employer, Coleman Medical Associates; and Graham Hospital. In her amended complaint, Mrs. Blagden alleged that although Krock hadn’t actually seen her husband Dennis, his consultation with Dr. McMillin was sufficient to establish a doctor-patient relationship and thus a legal duty of care. That duty, Mrs. Blagden further alleged, was breached when Dr. Krock failed both to rule out her husband’s “infectious process” and to admit him for proper follow-up monitoring.

In July 2021, after the case had been transferred from Peoria County to Fulton County, Dr. Krock cried foul. In a motion to the court for summary judgment – that is, a ruling prior to an actual trial – he and his practice put forth the following argument: As a mere on-call consultant that day in 2017, he had neither seen the patient nor established a relationship with him, thereby precluding his legal duty of care.

The trial court judge agreed and granted both Dr. Krock and Dr. Coleman the summary judgment they had sought.

Mrs. Blagden then appealed to the Appellate Court of Illinois, Fourth District, which is located in Springfield.

In its unanimous decision, the three-judge panel reversed the lower court’s ruling. Taking direct aim at Dr. Krock’s earlier motion, Justice Eugene Doherty, who wrote the panel’s opinion, said that state law had long established that “the special relationship giving rise to a duty of care may exist even in the absence of any meeting between the physician and the patient where the physician performs specific services for the benefit of the patient.”

As Justice Doherty explained, Dr. Krock’s status that day as both the on-call doctor and the one with final admitting authority undermined his argument for summary judgment. Also undermining it, Justice Doherty added, was the fact that the conversation between the two doctors that day in 2017 was a formal exchange “contemplated by hospital bylaws.”

“While public policy should encourage informal consultations between physicians,” the justice continued, “it must not ignore actual physician involvement in decisions that directly affect a patient’s care.”

Following the Fourth District decision, the suit against Dr. McMillin, Dr. Krock, and the other defendants has now been tossed back to the trial court for further proceedings. At press time, no trial date had been set.
 

Will this proposed damages cap help retain more physicians?

Fear of a doctor shortage, triggered in part by a recent history of large payouts, has prompted Iowa lawmakers to push for new state caps on medical malpractice awards, as a story in the Des Moines Register reports.

Currently, Iowa caps most noneconomic damages – including those for pain and suffering – at $250,000, which is among the lowest such caps in the nation.

Under existing Iowa law, however, the limit doesn’t apply in extraordinary cases – that is, those involving “substantial or permanent loss of body function, substantial disfigurement, or death.” It also isn’t applicable in cases in which a jury decides that a defendant acted with intentional malice.

Lawmakers and Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds would like to change this.

Under a Senate bill that has now passed out of committee and is awaiting debate on the Senate floor, even plaintiffs involved in extreme cases would receive no more than $1 million to compensate for their pain, suffering, or emotional distress. (The bill also includes a 2.1% annual hike to compensate for inflation. A similar bill, which adds “loss of pregnancy” to the list of extreme cases, has advanced to the House floor.)

Supporters say the proposed cap would help to limit mega awards. In Johnson County in March 2022, for instance, a jury awarded $97.4 million to the parents of a young boy who sustained severe brain injuries during his delivery, causing the clinic that had been involved in the case to file for bankruptcy. This award was nearly three times the total payouts ($35 million) in the entire state of Iowa in all of 2021, a year in which there were 192 closed claims, including at least a dozen that resulted in payouts of $1 million or more.

Supporters also think the proposed cap will mitigate what they see as a looming doctor shortage, especially among ob.gyns. in eastern Iowa. “I just cannot overstate how much this is affecting our workforce, and that turns into effects for the women and the children, the babies, in our state,” Shannon Leveridge, MD, an obstetrician in Davenport said. “In order to keep these women and their babies safe, we need doctors.”

But critics of the bill, including some lawmakers and the trial bar, say it overreaches, even in the case of the $97.4 million award.

“They don’t want to talk about the actual damages that are caused by medical negligence,” explained a spokesman for the trial lawyers. “So, you don’t hear about the fact that, of the $50 million of economic damages ... most of that is going to go to the 24/7 care for this child for the rest of his life.”

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

Emergencies happen anywhere, anytime, and sometimes physicians find themselves in situations where they are the only ones who can help. Is There a Doctor in the House? is a Medscape series telling these stories.

I was coming off a 48-hour shift plus a day of doing outpatient sedation at Sparrow Hospital in Lansing. It was December and Michigan-cold. The roads were fine – no snow – but I noticed an unusual amount of traffic on the freeway. Then I saw smoke coming from an overpass up ahead.

I drove on the side of the road where I wasn’t really supposed to and got closer. An SUV had crashed into one of the big concrete structures under the bridge. I saw people running around but wasn’t able to spot EMS or any health care workers. From where I was, I could identify four kids who had already been extricated and one adult still in the driver’s seat. I estimated the kids’ ages were around 7, 5, 3, and an infant who was a few months old. I left my car and went to help.

I was able to peg the ages correctly because I’m a pediatric critical care physician. As a specialty, we’re not commonly known. We oversee patient care in intensive care units, except the patients are children. Part of the job is that we’re experts at triaging. We recognize what’s life-threatening and less so.

The kids were with some adults who kept them warm with blankets. I examined each of them. The infant was asleep but arousable and acting like a normal baby. The 3-year-old boy was vomiting and appeared very fatigued. The 5-year-old boy had a forehead laceration and was in and out of consciousness. The 7-year-old girl was screaming because of different injuries.

While all of the children were concerning to me, I identified one in particular: the 5-year-old boy. It was obvious he needed serious medical attention and fast. So, I kept that little guy in mind. The others had sustained significant injuries, but my best guess was they could get to a hospital and be stabilized.

That said, I’m a trauma instructor, and one of the things I always tell trainees is: Trauma is a black box. On the outside, it may seem like a patient doesn’t have a lot of injuries. But underneath, there might be something worse, like a brain injury. Or the chest might have taken a blunt impact affecting the heart. There may be internal bleeding somewhere in the belly. It’s really hard to tease out what exactly is going on without equipment and testing.

I didn’t even have a pulse oximeter or heart rate monitor. I pretty much just went by the appearance of the child: pulse, heart rate, awareness, things like that.

After the kids, I moved to look at the man in the car. The front end had already caught fire. I could see the driver – the kids’ father, I guessed – unconscious and hunched over. I was wondering, Why hasn’t this guy been extricated?

I approached the car on the front passenger side. And then I just had this feeling. I knew I needed to step back. Immediately.

I did. And a few seconds later, the whole car exploded in flames.

I believe God is in control of everything. I tried to get to that man. But the scene was unsafe. Later I learned that several people, including a young nurse at the scene, had tried to get to him as well.

When EMS came, I identified myself. Obviously, these people do very, very important work. But they may be more used to the 60-year-old heart attack, the 25-year-old gunshot wound, the occasional ill child. I thought that four kids – each with possible critical poly-traumatic injuries – posed a challenge to anyone.

I told them, “This is what I do on a daily basis, and this is the kid I’m worried about the most. The other kids are definitely worrisome, but I would prioritize getting this kid to the hospital first. Can I ride with you?” They agreed.

We got that boy and his older sister into the first ambulance (she was in a lot of pain, the result of a femur fracture). The two other kids rode in the second ambulance. The hospital where I had just left was 10 minutes away. I called the other pediatric critical care doctor there, my partner. He thought I was calling for a routine issue – no such luck. I said, “I’m with four kids who are level-1 traumas in two ambulances and I’m heading to the hospital right now, ETA 10 minutes.”

En route, I thought the little boy might lose consciousness at any moment. He needed a breathing tube, and I debated whether it should be done in the ambulance vs. waiting until we got to the emergency room. Based on my judgment and his vital signs, I elected to wait to have it done it in a more controlled environment. Had I felt like he was in immediate need of an airway, I would’ve attempted it. But those are the tough calls that you must make.

My partner had alerted the trauma and emergency medicine teams at the hospital. By the time we arrived, my partner was down in the ER with the trauma team and ER staff. Everyone was ready. Then it was like divide and conquer. He attended to one of the kids. The ER team and I were with the little guy I was really worried about. We had his breathing tube in within minutes. The trauma team attended to the other two.

All the kids were stabilized and then admitted to the pediatric intensive care unit. I’m happy to say that all of them did well in the end. Even the little guy I was worried about the most.

I must say this incident gave me perspective on what EMS goes through. The field medicine we do in the United States is still in its infancy in a lot of ways. One of the things I would love to see in the future is a mobile ICU. After a critical illness hits, sometimes you only have seconds, minutes, maybe hours if you’re lucky. The earlier you can get patients the treatment they need, the better the outcomes.

I like taking care of critically ill children and their families. It fits my personality. And it’s a wonderful cause. But you have to be ready for tragic cases like this one. Yes, the children came out alive, but the accident claimed a life in a horrible way. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Critical care takes an emotional, psychological, and physical toll. It’s a roller coaster: Some kids do well; some kids don’t do well. All I can do is hold myself accountable. I keep my emotions in check, whether the outcome is positive or negative. And I do my best.
 

Mohamed Hani Farhat, MD, is a pediatric critical care physician at the University of Michigan C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital in Ann Arbor and Sparrow Hospital in Lansing, Mich. Are you a physician with a dramatic medical story outside the clinic? Medscape would love to consider your story for Is There a Doctor in the House? Please email your contact information and a short summary of your story to [email protected] . A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

Emergencies happen anywhere, anytime, and sometimes physicians find themselves in situations where they are the only ones who can help. Is There a Doctor in the House? is a Medscape series telling these stories.

I was coming off a 48-hour shift plus a day of doing outpatient sedation at Sparrow Hospital in Lansing. It was December and Michigan-cold. The roads were fine – no snow – but I noticed an unusual amount of traffic on the freeway. Then I saw smoke coming from an overpass up ahead.

I drove on the side of the road where I wasn’t really supposed to and got closer. An SUV had crashed into one of the big concrete structures under the bridge. I saw people running around but wasn’t able to spot EMS or any health care workers. From where I was, I could identify four kids who had already been extricated and one adult still in the driver’s seat. I estimated the kids’ ages were around 7, 5, 3, and an infant who was a few months old. I left my car and went to help.

I was able to peg the ages correctly because I’m a pediatric critical care physician. As a specialty, we’re not commonly known. We oversee patient care in intensive care units, except the patients are children. Part of the job is that we’re experts at triaging. We recognize what’s life-threatening and less so.

The kids were with some adults who kept them warm with blankets. I examined each of them. The infant was asleep but arousable and acting like a normal baby. The 3-year-old boy was vomiting and appeared very fatigued. The 5-year-old boy had a forehead laceration and was in and out of consciousness. The 7-year-old girl was screaming because of different injuries.

While all of the children were concerning to me, I identified one in particular: the 5-year-old boy. It was obvious he needed serious medical attention and fast. So, I kept that little guy in mind. The others had sustained significant injuries, but my best guess was they could get to a hospital and be stabilized.

That said, I’m a trauma instructor, and one of the things I always tell trainees is: Trauma is a black box. On the outside, it may seem like a patient doesn’t have a lot of injuries. But underneath, there might be something worse, like a brain injury. Or the chest might have taken a blunt impact affecting the heart. There may be internal bleeding somewhere in the belly. It’s really hard to tease out what exactly is going on without equipment and testing.

I didn’t even have a pulse oximeter or heart rate monitor. I pretty much just went by the appearance of the child: pulse, heart rate, awareness, things like that.

After the kids, I moved to look at the man in the car. The front end had already caught fire. I could see the driver – the kids’ father, I guessed – unconscious and hunched over. I was wondering, Why hasn’t this guy been extricated?

I approached the car on the front passenger side. And then I just had this feeling. I knew I needed to step back. Immediately.

I did. And a few seconds later, the whole car exploded in flames.

I believe God is in control of everything. I tried to get to that man. But the scene was unsafe. Later I learned that several people, including a young nurse at the scene, had tried to get to him as well.

When EMS came, I identified myself. Obviously, these people do very, very important work. But they may be more used to the 60-year-old heart attack, the 25-year-old gunshot wound, the occasional ill child. I thought that four kids – each with possible critical poly-traumatic injuries – posed a challenge to anyone.

I told them, “This is what I do on a daily basis, and this is the kid I’m worried about the most. The other kids are definitely worrisome, but I would prioritize getting this kid to the hospital first. Can I ride with you?” They agreed.

We got that boy and his older sister into the first ambulance (she was in a lot of pain, the result of a femur fracture). The two other kids rode in the second ambulance. The hospital where I had just left was 10 minutes away. I called the other pediatric critical care doctor there, my partner. He thought I was calling for a routine issue – no such luck. I said, “I’m with four kids who are level-1 traumas in two ambulances and I’m heading to the hospital right now, ETA 10 minutes.”

En route, I thought the little boy might lose consciousness at any moment. He needed a breathing tube, and I debated whether it should be done in the ambulance vs. waiting until we got to the emergency room. Based on my judgment and his vital signs, I elected to wait to have it done it in a more controlled environment. Had I felt like he was in immediate need of an airway, I would’ve attempted it. But those are the tough calls that you must make.

My partner had alerted the trauma and emergency medicine teams at the hospital. By the time we arrived, my partner was down in the ER with the trauma team and ER staff. Everyone was ready. Then it was like divide and conquer. He attended to one of the kids. The ER team and I were with the little guy I was really worried about. We had his breathing tube in within minutes. The trauma team attended to the other two.

All the kids were stabilized and then admitted to the pediatric intensive care unit. I’m happy to say that all of them did well in the end. Even the little guy I was worried about the most.

I must say this incident gave me perspective on what EMS goes through. The field medicine we do in the United States is still in its infancy in a lot of ways. One of the things I would love to see in the future is a mobile ICU. After a critical illness hits, sometimes you only have seconds, minutes, maybe hours if you’re lucky. The earlier you can get patients the treatment they need, the better the outcomes.

I like taking care of critically ill children and their families. It fits my personality. And it’s a wonderful cause. But you have to be ready for tragic cases like this one. Yes, the children came out alive, but the accident claimed a life in a horrible way. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Critical care takes an emotional, psychological, and physical toll. It’s a roller coaster: Some kids do well; some kids don’t do well. All I can do is hold myself accountable. I keep my emotions in check, whether the outcome is positive or negative. And I do my best.
 

Mohamed Hani Farhat, MD, is a pediatric critical care physician at the University of Michigan C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital in Ann Arbor and Sparrow Hospital in Lansing, Mich. Are you a physician with a dramatic medical story outside the clinic? Medscape would love to consider your story for Is There a Doctor in the House? Please email your contact information and a short summary of your story to [email protected] . A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

Emergencies happen anywhere, anytime, and sometimes physicians find themselves in situations where they are the only ones who can help. Is There a Doctor in the House? is a Medscape series telling these stories.

I was coming off a 48-hour shift plus a day of doing outpatient sedation at Sparrow Hospital in Lansing. It was December and Michigan-cold. The roads were fine – no snow – but I noticed an unusual amount of traffic on the freeway. Then I saw smoke coming from an overpass up ahead.

I drove on the side of the road where I wasn’t really supposed to and got closer. An SUV had crashed into one of the big concrete structures under the bridge. I saw people running around but wasn’t able to spot EMS or any health care workers. From where I was, I could identify four kids who had already been extricated and one adult still in the driver’s seat. I estimated the kids’ ages were around 7, 5, 3, and an infant who was a few months old. I left my car and went to help.

I was able to peg the ages correctly because I’m a pediatric critical care physician. As a specialty, we’re not commonly known. We oversee patient care in intensive care units, except the patients are children. Part of the job is that we’re experts at triaging. We recognize what’s life-threatening and less so.

The kids were with some adults who kept them warm with blankets. I examined each of them. The infant was asleep but arousable and acting like a normal baby. The 3-year-old boy was vomiting and appeared very fatigued. The 5-year-old boy had a forehead laceration and was in and out of consciousness. The 7-year-old girl was screaming because of different injuries.

While all of the children were concerning to me, I identified one in particular: the 5-year-old boy. It was obvious he needed serious medical attention and fast. So, I kept that little guy in mind. The others had sustained significant injuries, but my best guess was they could get to a hospital and be stabilized.

That said, I’m a trauma instructor, and one of the things I always tell trainees is: Trauma is a black box. On the outside, it may seem like a patient doesn’t have a lot of injuries. But underneath, there might be something worse, like a brain injury. Or the chest might have taken a blunt impact affecting the heart. There may be internal bleeding somewhere in the belly. It’s really hard to tease out what exactly is going on without equipment and testing.

I didn’t even have a pulse oximeter or heart rate monitor. I pretty much just went by the appearance of the child: pulse, heart rate, awareness, things like that.

After the kids, I moved to look at the man in the car. The front end had already caught fire. I could see the driver – the kids’ father, I guessed – unconscious and hunched over. I was wondering, Why hasn’t this guy been extricated?

I approached the car on the front passenger side. And then I just had this feeling. I knew I needed to step back. Immediately.

I did. And a few seconds later, the whole car exploded in flames.

I believe God is in control of everything. I tried to get to that man. But the scene was unsafe. Later I learned that several people, including a young nurse at the scene, had tried to get to him as well.

When EMS came, I identified myself. Obviously, these people do very, very important work. But they may be more used to the 60-year-old heart attack, the 25-year-old gunshot wound, the occasional ill child. I thought that four kids – each with possible critical poly-traumatic injuries – posed a challenge to anyone.

I told them, “This is what I do on a daily basis, and this is the kid I’m worried about the most. The other kids are definitely worrisome, but I would prioritize getting this kid to the hospital first. Can I ride with you?” They agreed.

We got that boy and his older sister into the first ambulance (she was in a lot of pain, the result of a femur fracture). The two other kids rode in the second ambulance. The hospital where I had just left was 10 minutes away. I called the other pediatric critical care doctor there, my partner. He thought I was calling for a routine issue – no such luck. I said, “I’m with four kids who are level-1 traumas in two ambulances and I’m heading to the hospital right now, ETA 10 minutes.”

En route, I thought the little boy might lose consciousness at any moment. He needed a breathing tube, and I debated whether it should be done in the ambulance vs. waiting until we got to the emergency room. Based on my judgment and his vital signs, I elected to wait to have it done it in a more controlled environment. Had I felt like he was in immediate need of an airway, I would’ve attempted it. But those are the tough calls that you must make.

My partner had alerted the trauma and emergency medicine teams at the hospital. By the time we arrived, my partner was down in the ER with the trauma team and ER staff. Everyone was ready. Then it was like divide and conquer. He attended to one of the kids. The ER team and I were with the little guy I was really worried about. We had his breathing tube in within minutes. The trauma team attended to the other two.

All the kids were stabilized and then admitted to the pediatric intensive care unit. I’m happy to say that all of them did well in the end. Even the little guy I was worried about the most.

I must say this incident gave me perspective on what EMS goes through. The field medicine we do in the United States is still in its infancy in a lot of ways. One of the things I would love to see in the future is a mobile ICU. After a critical illness hits, sometimes you only have seconds, minutes, maybe hours if you’re lucky. The earlier you can get patients the treatment they need, the better the outcomes.

I like taking care of critically ill children and their families. It fits my personality. And it’s a wonderful cause. But you have to be ready for tragic cases like this one. Yes, the children came out alive, but the accident claimed a life in a horrible way. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Critical care takes an emotional, psychological, and physical toll. It’s a roller coaster: Some kids do well; some kids don’t do well. All I can do is hold myself accountable. I keep my emotions in check, whether the outcome is positive or negative. And I do my best.
 

Mohamed Hani Farhat, MD, is a pediatric critical care physician at the University of Michigan C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital in Ann Arbor and Sparrow Hospital in Lansing, Mich. Are you a physician with a dramatic medical story outside the clinic? Medscape would love to consider your story for Is There a Doctor in the House? Please email your contact information and a short summary of your story to [email protected] . A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

When I was a child, I watched syndicated episodes of the original “Star Trek.” I was dazzled by the space travel, sure, but also the medical technology.

A handheld “tricorder” detected diseases, while an intramuscular injector (“hypospray”) could treat them. Sickbay “biobeds” came with real-time health monitors that looked futuristic at the time but seem primitive today.

Such visions inspired a lot of us kids to pursue science. Little did we know the real-life advances many of us would see in our lifetimes.

Artificial intelligence helping to spot disease, robots performing surgery, even video calls between doctor and patient – all these once sounded fantastical but now happen in clinical care.

Now, in the 23rd year of the 21st century, you might not believe wht we’ll be capable of next. Three especially wild examples are moving closer to clinical reality. 
 

Human hibernation

Captain America, Han Solo, and “Star Trek” villain Khan – all were preserved at low temperatures and then revived, waking up alive and well months, decades, or centuries later. These are fictional examples, to be sure, but the science they’re rooted in is real.

Rare cases of accidental hypothermia prove that full recovery is possible even after the heart stops beating. The drop in body temperature slows metabolism and reduces the need for oxygen, stalling brain damage for an hour or more. (In one extreme case, a climber survived after almost 9 hours of efforts to revive him.)

Useful for a space traveler? Maybe not. But it’s potentially huge for someone with life-threatening injuries from a car accident or a gunshot wound.

That’s the thinking behind a breakthrough procedure that came after decades of research on pigs and dogs, now in a clinical trial. The idea: A person with massive blood loss whose heart has stopped is injected with an ice-cold fluid, cooling them from the inside, down to about 50° F.

Doctors already induce more modest hypothermia to protect the brain and other organs after cardiac arrest and during surgery on the aortic arch (the main artery carrying blood from the heart).

But this experimental procedure – called emergency preservation and resuscitation (EPR) – goes far beyond that, dramatically “decreasing the body’s need for oxygen and blood flow,” says Samuel Tisherman, MD, a trauma surgeon at the University of Maryland Medical Center and the trial’s lead researcher. This puts the patient in a state of suspended animation that “could buy time for surgeons to stop the bleeding and save more of these patients.”

The technique has been done on at least six patients, though none were reported to survive. The trial is expected to include 20 people by the time it wraps up in December, according to the listing on the U.S. clinical trials database. Though given the strict requirements for candidates (emergency trauma victims who are not likely to survive), one can’t exactly rely on a set schedule.

Still, the technology is promising. Someday we may even use it to keep patients in suspended animation for months or years, experts predict, helping astronauts through decades-long spaceflights, or stalling death in sick patients awaiting a cure.
 

Artificial womb

Another sci-fi classic: growing human babies outside the womb. Think the fetus fields from “The Matrix,” or the frozen embryos in “Alien: Covenant.”

In 1923, British biologist J.B.S. Haldane coined a term for that – ectogenesis. He predicted that 70% of pregnancies would take place, from fertilization to birth, in artificial wombs by 2074. That many seems unlikely, but the timeline is on track.

Developing an embryo outside the womb is already routine in in vitro fertilization. And technology enables preterm babies to survive through much of the second half of gestation. Normal human pregnancy is 40 weeks, and the youngest preterm baby ever to survive was 21 weeks and 1 day old, just a few days younger than a smattering of others who lived.

The biggest obstacle for babies younger than that is lung viability. Mechanical ventilation can damage the lungs and lead to a chronic (sometimes fatal) lung disease known as bronchopulmonary dysplasia. Avoiding this would mean figuring out a way to maintain fetal circulation – the intricate system that delivers oxygenated blood from the placenta to the fetus via the umbilical cord. Researchers at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia have done this using a fetal lamb.

The key to their invention is a substitute placenta: an oxygenator connected to the lamb’s umbilical cord. Tubes inserted through the umbilical vein and arteries carry oxygenated blood from the “placenta” to the fetus, and deoxygenated blood back out. The lamb resides in an artificial, fluid-filled amniotic sac until its lungs and other organs are developed.

Fertility treatment could benefit, too. “An artificial womb may substitute in situations in which a gestational carrier – surrogate – is indicated,” says Paula Amato, MD, a professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Oregon Health and Science University, Portland. (Dr. Amato is not involved in the CHOP research.) For example: when the mother is missing a uterus or can’t carry a pregnancy safely.

No date is set for clinical trials yet. But according to the research, the main difference between human and lamb may come down to size. A lamb’s umbilical vessels are larger, so feeding in a tube is easier. With today’s advances in miniaturizing surgical methods, that seems like a challenge scientists can overcome.
 

Messenger RNA therapeutics

Back to “Star Trek.” The hypospray injector’s contents could cure just about any disease, even one newly discovered on a strange planet. That’s not unlike messenger RNA (mRNA) technology, a breakthrough that enabled scientists to quickly develop some of the first COVID-19 vaccines.

But vaccines are just the beginning of what this technology can do.

A whole field of immunotherapy is emerging that uses mRNA to deliver instructions to produce chimeric antigen receptor–modified immune cells (CAR-modified immune cells). These cells are engineered to target diseased cells and tissues, like cancer cells and harmful fibroblasts (scar tissue) that promote fibrosis in, for example, the heart and lungs.

The field is bursting with rodent research, and clinical trials have started for treating some advanced-stage malignancies.

Actual clinical use may be years away, but if all goes well, these medicines could help treat or even cure the core medical problems facing humanity. We’re talking cancer, heart disease, neurodegenerative disease – transforming one therapy into another by simply changing the mRNA’s “nucleotide sequence,” the blueprint containing instructions telling it what to do, and what disease to attack.

As this technology matures, we may start to feel as if we’re really on “Star Trek,” where Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy pulls out the same device to treat just about every disease or injury.

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

When I was a child, I watched syndicated episodes of the original “Star Trek.” I was dazzled by the space travel, sure, but also the medical technology.

A handheld “tricorder” detected diseases, while an intramuscular injector (“hypospray”) could treat them. Sickbay “biobeds” came with real-time health monitors that looked futuristic at the time but seem primitive today.

Such visions inspired a lot of us kids to pursue science. Little did we know the real-life advances many of us would see in our lifetimes.

Artificial intelligence helping to spot disease, robots performing surgery, even video calls between doctor and patient – all these once sounded fantastical but now happen in clinical care.

Now, in the 23rd year of the 21st century, you might not believe wht we’ll be capable of next. Three especially wild examples are moving closer to clinical reality. 
 

Human hibernation

Captain America, Han Solo, and “Star Trek” villain Khan – all were preserved at low temperatures and then revived, waking up alive and well months, decades, or centuries later. These are fictional examples, to be sure, but the science they’re rooted in is real.

Rare cases of accidental hypothermia prove that full recovery is possible even after the heart stops beating. The drop in body temperature slows metabolism and reduces the need for oxygen, stalling brain damage for an hour or more. (In one extreme case, a climber survived after almost 9 hours of efforts to revive him.)

Useful for a space traveler? Maybe not. But it’s potentially huge for someone with life-threatening injuries from a car accident or a gunshot wound.

That’s the thinking behind a breakthrough procedure that came after decades of research on pigs and dogs, now in a clinical trial. The idea: A person with massive blood loss whose heart has stopped is injected with an ice-cold fluid, cooling them from the inside, down to about 50° F.

Doctors already induce more modest hypothermia to protect the brain and other organs after cardiac arrest and during surgery on the aortic arch (the main artery carrying blood from the heart).

But this experimental procedure – called emergency preservation and resuscitation (EPR) – goes far beyond that, dramatically “decreasing the body’s need for oxygen and blood flow,” says Samuel Tisherman, MD, a trauma surgeon at the University of Maryland Medical Center and the trial’s lead researcher. This puts the patient in a state of suspended animation that “could buy time for surgeons to stop the bleeding and save more of these patients.”

The technique has been done on at least six patients, though none were reported to survive. The trial is expected to include 20 people by the time it wraps up in December, according to the listing on the U.S. clinical trials database. Though given the strict requirements for candidates (emergency trauma victims who are not likely to survive), one can’t exactly rely on a set schedule.

Still, the technology is promising. Someday we may even use it to keep patients in suspended animation for months or years, experts predict, helping astronauts through decades-long spaceflights, or stalling death in sick patients awaiting a cure.
 

Artificial womb

Another sci-fi classic: growing human babies outside the womb. Think the fetus fields from “The Matrix,” or the frozen embryos in “Alien: Covenant.”

In 1923, British biologist J.B.S. Haldane coined a term for that – ectogenesis. He predicted that 70% of pregnancies would take place, from fertilization to birth, in artificial wombs by 2074. That many seems unlikely, but the timeline is on track.

Developing an embryo outside the womb is already routine in in vitro fertilization. And technology enables preterm babies to survive through much of the second half of gestation. Normal human pregnancy is 40 weeks, and the youngest preterm baby ever to survive was 21 weeks and 1 day old, just a few days younger than a smattering of others who lived.

The biggest obstacle for babies younger than that is lung viability. Mechanical ventilation can damage the lungs and lead to a chronic (sometimes fatal) lung disease known as bronchopulmonary dysplasia. Avoiding this would mean figuring out a way to maintain fetal circulation – the intricate system that delivers oxygenated blood from the placenta to the fetus via the umbilical cord. Researchers at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia have done this using a fetal lamb.

The key to their invention is a substitute placenta: an oxygenator connected to the lamb’s umbilical cord. Tubes inserted through the umbilical vein and arteries carry oxygenated blood from the “placenta” to the fetus, and deoxygenated blood back out. The lamb resides in an artificial, fluid-filled amniotic sac until its lungs and other organs are developed.

Fertility treatment could benefit, too. “An artificial womb may substitute in situations in which a gestational carrier – surrogate – is indicated,” says Paula Amato, MD, a professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Oregon Health and Science University, Portland. (Dr. Amato is not involved in the CHOP research.) For example: when the mother is missing a uterus or can’t carry a pregnancy safely.

No date is set for clinical trials yet. But according to the research, the main difference between human and lamb may come down to size. A lamb’s umbilical vessels are larger, so feeding in a tube is easier. With today’s advances in miniaturizing surgical methods, that seems like a challenge scientists can overcome.
 

Messenger RNA therapeutics

Back to “Star Trek.” The hypospray injector’s contents could cure just about any disease, even one newly discovered on a strange planet. That’s not unlike messenger RNA (mRNA) technology, a breakthrough that enabled scientists to quickly develop some of the first COVID-19 vaccines.

But vaccines are just the beginning of what this technology can do.

A whole field of immunotherapy is emerging that uses mRNA to deliver instructions to produce chimeric antigen receptor–modified immune cells (CAR-modified immune cells). These cells are engineered to target diseased cells and tissues, like cancer cells and harmful fibroblasts (scar tissue) that promote fibrosis in, for example, the heart and lungs.

The field is bursting with rodent research, and clinical trials have started for treating some advanced-stage malignancies.

Actual clinical use may be years away, but if all goes well, these medicines could help treat or even cure the core medical problems facing humanity. We’re talking cancer, heart disease, neurodegenerative disease – transforming one therapy into another by simply changing the mRNA’s “nucleotide sequence,” the blueprint containing instructions telling it what to do, and what disease to attack.

As this technology matures, we may start to feel as if we’re really on “Star Trek,” where Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy pulls out the same device to treat just about every disease or injury.

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

When I was a child, I watched syndicated episodes of the original “Star Trek.” I was dazzled by the space travel, sure, but also the medical technology.

A handheld “tricorder” detected diseases, while an intramuscular injector (“hypospray”) could treat them. Sickbay “biobeds” came with real-time health monitors that looked futuristic at the time but seem primitive today.

Such visions inspired a lot of us kids to pursue science. Little did we know the real-life advances many of us would see in our lifetimes.

Artificial intelligence helping to spot disease, robots performing surgery, even video calls between doctor and patient – all these once sounded fantastical but now happen in clinical care.

Now, in the 23rd year of the 21st century, you might not believe wht we’ll be capable of next. Three especially wild examples are moving closer to clinical reality. 
 

Human hibernation

Captain America, Han Solo, and “Star Trek” villain Khan – all were preserved at low temperatures and then revived, waking up alive and well months, decades, or centuries later. These are fictional examples, to be sure, but the science they’re rooted in is real.

Rare cases of accidental hypothermia prove that full recovery is possible even after the heart stops beating. The drop in body temperature slows metabolism and reduces the need for oxygen, stalling brain damage for an hour or more. (In one extreme case, a climber survived after almost 9 hours of efforts to revive him.)

Useful for a space traveler? Maybe not. But it’s potentially huge for someone with life-threatening injuries from a car accident or a gunshot wound.

That’s the thinking behind a breakthrough procedure that came after decades of research on pigs and dogs, now in a clinical trial. The idea: A person with massive blood loss whose heart has stopped is injected with an ice-cold fluid, cooling them from the inside, down to about 50° F.

Doctors already induce more modest hypothermia to protect the brain and other organs after cardiac arrest and during surgery on the aortic arch (the main artery carrying blood from the heart).

But this experimental procedure – called emergency preservation and resuscitation (EPR) – goes far beyond that, dramatically “decreasing the body’s need for oxygen and blood flow,” says Samuel Tisherman, MD, a trauma surgeon at the University of Maryland Medical Center and the trial’s lead researcher. This puts the patient in a state of suspended animation that “could buy time for surgeons to stop the bleeding and save more of these patients.”

The technique has been done on at least six patients, though none were reported to survive. The trial is expected to include 20 people by the time it wraps up in December, according to the listing on the U.S. clinical trials database. Though given the strict requirements for candidates (emergency trauma victims who are not likely to survive), one can’t exactly rely on a set schedule.

Still, the technology is promising. Someday we may even use it to keep patients in suspended animation for months or years, experts predict, helping astronauts through decades-long spaceflights, or stalling death in sick patients awaiting a cure.
 

Artificial womb

Another sci-fi classic: growing human babies outside the womb. Think the fetus fields from “The Matrix,” or the frozen embryos in “Alien: Covenant.”

In 1923, British biologist J.B.S. Haldane coined a term for that – ectogenesis. He predicted that 70% of pregnancies would take place, from fertilization to birth, in artificial wombs by 2074. That many seems unlikely, but the timeline is on track.

Developing an embryo outside the womb is already routine in in vitro fertilization. And technology enables preterm babies to survive through much of the second half of gestation. Normal human pregnancy is 40 weeks, and the youngest preterm baby ever to survive was 21 weeks and 1 day old, just a few days younger than a smattering of others who lived.

The biggest obstacle for babies younger than that is lung viability. Mechanical ventilation can damage the lungs and lead to a chronic (sometimes fatal) lung disease known as bronchopulmonary dysplasia. Avoiding this would mean figuring out a way to maintain fetal circulation – the intricate system that delivers oxygenated blood from the placenta to the fetus via the umbilical cord. Researchers at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia have done this using a fetal lamb.

The key to their invention is a substitute placenta: an oxygenator connected to the lamb’s umbilical cord. Tubes inserted through the umbilical vein and arteries carry oxygenated blood from the “placenta” to the fetus, and deoxygenated blood back out. The lamb resides in an artificial, fluid-filled amniotic sac until its lungs and other organs are developed.

Fertility treatment could benefit, too. “An artificial womb may substitute in situations in which a gestational carrier – surrogate – is indicated,” says Paula Amato, MD, a professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Oregon Health and Science University, Portland. (Dr. Amato is not involved in the CHOP research.) For example: when the mother is missing a uterus or can’t carry a pregnancy safely.

No date is set for clinical trials yet. But according to the research, the main difference between human and lamb may come down to size. A lamb’s umbilical vessels are larger, so feeding in a tube is easier. With today’s advances in miniaturizing surgical methods, that seems like a challenge scientists can overcome.
 

Messenger RNA therapeutics

Back to “Star Trek.” The hypospray injector’s contents could cure just about any disease, even one newly discovered on a strange planet. That’s not unlike messenger RNA (mRNA) technology, a breakthrough that enabled scientists to quickly develop some of the first COVID-19 vaccines.

But vaccines are just the beginning of what this technology can do.

A whole field of immunotherapy is emerging that uses mRNA to deliver instructions to produce chimeric antigen receptor–modified immune cells (CAR-modified immune cells). These cells are engineered to target diseased cells and tissues, like cancer cells and harmful fibroblasts (scar tissue) that promote fibrosis in, for example, the heart and lungs.

The field is bursting with rodent research, and clinical trials have started for treating some advanced-stage malignancies.

Actual clinical use may be years away, but if all goes well, these medicines could help treat or even cure the core medical problems facing humanity. We’re talking cancer, heart disease, neurodegenerative disease – transforming one therapy into another by simply changing the mRNA’s “nucleotide sequence,” the blueprint containing instructions telling it what to do, and what disease to attack.

As this technology matures, we may start to feel as if we’re really on “Star Trek,” where Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy pulls out the same device to treat just about every disease or injury.

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

Burnout for oncology health care providers has been worse in recent years, but not only for physicians – the entire health care system is under more stress.

Fahri Saatcioglu, PhD, and colleagues, whose report was published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology, described it as a “dire situation” with resolutions needed “urgently” to “mitigate the negative consequences of physician burnout.” Both individual and whole-system approaches are needed, wrote Dr. Saatcioglu, a researcher with Oslo University Hospital in Norway who reviewed well-being interventions designed to mitigate physician stress.

When burnout sets in it is marked by emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and a lack of confidence in one’s ability to do his or her job effectively (often because of lack of support or organizational constraints). It can lead to reduced work efficacy, medical errors, job dissatisfaction, and turnover, Fay J. Hlubocky, PhD, and colleagues, wrote in a report published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, patients postponed doctor visits and procedures. Telemedicine was adopted in place of in-person visits, surgeries were delayed, and oral chemotherapy was prescribed over intravenous therapies, wrote Dr. Hlubocky and colleagues, who addressed the heightened sense of burnout oncologists experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic.

But before the pandemic, oncologists were already overburdened by a system unable to meet the demand for services. And now, because patients delayed doctor visits, more patients are being diagnosed with advanced malignancies.

According to the American Society of Clinical Oncology, the demand for cancer-related services is expected to grow by 40% over the next 6 years. And, by 2025, there will be a shortage of more than 2,200 oncologists in the United States.

Addressing physician burnout can affect the bottom line. According to a report published in Annals of Internal Medicine, physician turnover and reduced clinical hours due to burnout costs the United States $4.6 billion each year.

“It is estimated that 30%-50% of physicians either have burnout symptoms or they experience burnout. A recent study on oncologists in Canada found that symptoms of burnout may reach 73%,” wrote Dr. Saatcioglu and colleagues. “It is clear, for example, that an appropriate workload, resource sufficiency, positive work culture and values, and sufficient social and community support are all very critical for a sustainable and successful health care organization. All of these are also required for the professional satisfaction and well-being of physicians.”

Physician stress has become so serious, that Dr. Saatcioglu and colleagues recommend that hospital administrators “firmly establish the culture of wellness at the workplace” by including physician wellness under the institutional initiatives umbrella. Hospital leadership, they wrote, should strive to mitigate burnout at all levels by addressing issues and adopting strategies for physicians as a workforce and as individuals.

“There is a distinct need to approach the personal needs of the physician as an individual who is experiencing chronic stress that can trigger psychologic symptoms, which further affects not only their own health, family life, etc., but also their clinical performance, quality of the resulting health care, patient satisfaction, and finally the health economy,” the authors wrote.

Some health care organizations have adopted programs and made institutional changes designed to reduce burnout for health care workers. These include online wellness programs both free and paid, but there is little data on the efficacy of these programs.

The review by Dr. Saatcioglu and coauthors included the Online Breath and Meditation Program, a Sudarshan Kriya Yoga (SKY) program of three 90-minute sessions on yoga, effective breathing techniques, and cognitive coping and stressor evaluation strategies that have been effective in helping war veterans, prisoners, patients, and students. The ultimate goal would be to have participants adopt a daily yoga routine. Among 803 health care workers who participated in the program and completed a survey, 85% said they benefited from the program and 94% reported experiencing less stress. And, 81% felt the program would help improve their job performance.

“In the future, we believe that the best place for the individual approaches to physician wellness would be to have them as an integral part of the organizational measures, and ideally, implemented as part of the daily work routine of the physician where the organizational and individual responsibilities would merge,” the authors wrote.

Freelance writer Lorraine L. Janeczko, MPH, contributed to this article.

Burnout for oncology health care providers has been worse in recent years, but not only for physicians – the entire health care system is under more stress.

Fahri Saatcioglu, PhD, and colleagues, whose report was published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology, described it as a “dire situation” with resolutions needed “urgently” to “mitigate the negative consequences of physician burnout.” Both individual and whole-system approaches are needed, wrote Dr. Saatcioglu, a researcher with Oslo University Hospital in Norway who reviewed well-being interventions designed to mitigate physician stress.

When burnout sets in it is marked by emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and a lack of confidence in one’s ability to do his or her job effectively (often because of lack of support or organizational constraints). It can lead to reduced work efficacy, medical errors, job dissatisfaction, and turnover, Fay J. Hlubocky, PhD, and colleagues, wrote in a report published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, patients postponed doctor visits and procedures. Telemedicine was adopted in place of in-person visits, surgeries were delayed, and oral chemotherapy was prescribed over intravenous therapies, wrote Dr. Hlubocky and colleagues, who addressed the heightened sense of burnout oncologists experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic.

But before the pandemic, oncologists were already overburdened by a system unable to meet the demand for services. And now, because patients delayed doctor visits, more patients are being diagnosed with advanced malignancies.

According to the American Society of Clinical Oncology, the demand for cancer-related services is expected to grow by 40% over the next 6 years. And, by 2025, there will be a shortage of more than 2,200 oncologists in the United States.

Addressing physician burnout can affect the bottom line. According to a report published in Annals of Internal Medicine, physician turnover and reduced clinical hours due to burnout costs the United States $4.6 billion each year.

“It is estimated that 30%-50% of physicians either have burnout symptoms or they experience burnout. A recent study on oncologists in Canada found that symptoms of burnout may reach 73%,” wrote Dr. Saatcioglu and colleagues. “It is clear, for example, that an appropriate workload, resource sufficiency, positive work culture and values, and sufficient social and community support are all very critical for a sustainable and successful health care organization. All of these are also required for the professional satisfaction and well-being of physicians.”

Physician stress has become so serious, that Dr. Saatcioglu and colleagues recommend that hospital administrators “firmly establish the culture of wellness at the workplace” by including physician wellness under the institutional initiatives umbrella. Hospital leadership, they wrote, should strive to mitigate burnout at all levels by addressing issues and adopting strategies for physicians as a workforce and as individuals.

“There is a distinct need to approach the personal needs of the physician as an individual who is experiencing chronic stress that can trigger psychologic symptoms, which further affects not only their own health, family life, etc., but also their clinical performance, quality of the resulting health care, patient satisfaction, and finally the health economy,” the authors wrote.

Some health care organizations have adopted programs and made institutional changes designed to reduce burnout for health care workers. These include online wellness programs both free and paid, but there is little data on the efficacy of these programs.

The review by Dr. Saatcioglu and coauthors included the Online Breath and Meditation Program, a Sudarshan Kriya Yoga (SKY) program of three 90-minute sessions on yoga, effective breathing techniques, and cognitive coping and stressor evaluation strategies that have been effective in helping war veterans, prisoners, patients, and students. The ultimate goal would be to have participants adopt a daily yoga routine. Among 803 health care workers who participated in the program and completed a survey, 85% said they benefited from the program and 94% reported experiencing less stress. And, 81% felt the program would help improve their job performance.

“In the future, we believe that the best place for the individual approaches to physician wellness would be to have them as an integral part of the organizational measures, and ideally, implemented as part of the daily work routine of the physician where the organizational and individual responsibilities would merge,” the authors wrote.

Freelance writer Lorraine L. Janeczko, MPH, contributed to this article.

Burnout for oncology health care providers has been worse in recent years, but not only for physicians – the entire health care system is under more stress.

Fahri Saatcioglu, PhD, and colleagues, whose report was published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology, described it as a “dire situation” with resolutions needed “urgently” to “mitigate the negative consequences of physician burnout.” Both individual and whole-system approaches are needed, wrote Dr. Saatcioglu, a researcher with Oslo University Hospital in Norway who reviewed well-being interventions designed to mitigate physician stress.

When burnout sets in it is marked by emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and a lack of confidence in one’s ability to do his or her job effectively (often because of lack of support or organizational constraints). It can lead to reduced work efficacy, medical errors, job dissatisfaction, and turnover, Fay J. Hlubocky, PhD, and colleagues, wrote in a report published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, patients postponed doctor visits and procedures. Telemedicine was adopted in place of in-person visits, surgeries were delayed, and oral chemotherapy was prescribed over intravenous therapies, wrote Dr. Hlubocky and colleagues, who addressed the heightened sense of burnout oncologists experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic.

But before the pandemic, oncologists were already overburdened by a system unable to meet the demand for services. And now, because patients delayed doctor visits, more patients are being diagnosed with advanced malignancies.

According to the American Society of Clinical Oncology, the demand for cancer-related services is expected to grow by 40% over the next 6 years. And, by 2025, there will be a shortage of more than 2,200 oncologists in the United States.

Addressing physician burnout can affect the bottom line. According to a report published in Annals of Internal Medicine, physician turnover and reduced clinical hours due to burnout costs the United States $4.6 billion each year.

“It is estimated that 30%-50% of physicians either have burnout symptoms or they experience burnout. A recent study on oncologists in Canada found that symptoms of burnout may reach 73%,” wrote Dr. Saatcioglu and colleagues. “It is clear, for example, that an appropriate workload, resource sufficiency, positive work culture and values, and sufficient social and community support are all very critical for a sustainable and successful health care organization. All of these are also required for the professional satisfaction and well-being of physicians.”

Physician stress has become so serious, that Dr. Saatcioglu and colleagues recommend that hospital administrators “firmly establish the culture of wellness at the workplace” by including physician wellness under the institutional initiatives umbrella. Hospital leadership, they wrote, should strive to mitigate burnout at all levels by addressing issues and adopting strategies for physicians as a workforce and as individuals.

“There is a distinct need to approach the personal needs of the physician as an individual who is experiencing chronic stress that can trigger psychologic symptoms, which further affects not only their own health, family life, etc., but also their clinical performance, quality of the resulting health care, patient satisfaction, and finally the health economy,” the authors wrote.

Some health care organizations have adopted programs and made institutional changes designed to reduce burnout for health care workers. These include online wellness programs both free and paid, but there is little data on the efficacy of these programs.

The review by Dr. Saatcioglu and coauthors included the Online Breath and Meditation Program, a Sudarshan Kriya Yoga (SKY) program of three 90-minute sessions on yoga, effective breathing techniques, and cognitive coping and stressor evaluation strategies that have been effective in helping war veterans, prisoners, patients, and students. The ultimate goal would be to have participants adopt a daily yoga routine. Among 803 health care workers who participated in the program and completed a survey, 85% said they benefited from the program and 94% reported experiencing less stress. And, 81% felt the program would help improve their job performance.

“In the future, we believe that the best place for the individual approaches to physician wellness would be to have them as an integral part of the organizational measures, and ideally, implemented as part of the daily work routine of the physician where the organizational and individual responsibilities would merge,” the authors wrote.

Freelance writer Lorraine L. Janeczko, MPH, contributed to this article.

After more than 5 decades of trying, the drug industry is on the verge of providing effective immunizations against the respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), which has put an estimated 90,000 U.S. infants and small children in the hospital since the start of October.

But only one of the shots is designed to be given to babies, and a glitch in congressional language may make it difficult to allow children from low-income families to get it as readily as the well insured.

Since 1994, routine vaccination has been a childhood entitlement under the Vaccines for Children program, through which the federal government buys millions of vaccines and provides them free through pediatricians and clinics to children who are uninsured, underinsured, or on Medicaid – more than half of all American kids.

The 1993 law creating the program didn’t specifically include antibody shots, which were used only as rare emergency therapy at the time the bill was written.

But the first medication of its kind likely to be available to babies, called nirsevimab (it was approved in Europe in December, and Food and Drug Administration approval is expected in the summer of 2023), is not a vaccine but rather a monoclonal antibody that neutralizes RSV in the bloodstream.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices is certain to recommend giving the antibody to infants, said Kelly Moore, MD, president of the advocacy group Immunize.org. The CDC is currently assessing whether nirsevimab would be eligible for the Vaccines for Children program, agency spokesperson Kristen Nordlund told KHN.

Failing to do so would “consign thousands upon thousands of infants to hospitalization and serious illness for semantic reasons despite existence of an immunization that functionally performs just like a seasonal vaccine,” Dr. Moore said.

Officials from Sanofi, which is producing the nirsevimab injection along with AstraZeneca, declined to state a price but said the range would be similar to that of a pediatric vaccine course. The CDC pays about $650 for the most expensive routine vaccine, the four shots against pneumococcal infection. In other words, FDA approval would make nirsevimab a blockbuster drug worth billions annually if it’s given to a large share of the 3.7 million or so children born in the U.S. each year.

Pfizer and GlaxoSmithKline are making traditional vaccines against RSV and expect FDA approval later in 2023. Pfizer’s shot initially would be given to pregnant women – to shield their babies from the disease – while GSK’s would be given to the elderly.

Vaccines designed for infants are in the pipeline, but some experts are still nervous about them. A 1966 RSV vaccine trial failed spectacularly, killing two toddlers, and immunologists aren’t totally in agreement over the cause, said Barney Graham, MD, PhD, the retired National Institutes of Health scientist whose studies of the episode contributed to successful COVID-19 and RSV vaccines.

After 2 years of COVID lockdowns and masking slowed its transmission, RSV exploded across the United States in 2023, swamping pediatric intensive care units.

Sanofi and AstraZeneca hope to have nirsevimab approved by the FDA, recommended by the CDC, and deployed nationwide by fall to prevent future RSV epidemics.

Their product is designed to be provided before a baby’s first winter RSV season. In clinical trials, the antibodies provided up to 5 months of protection. Most children wouldn’t need a second dose because the virus is not a mortal danger to healthy kids over a year old, said Jon Heinrichs, a senior member of Sanofi’s vaccines division.

If the antibody treatment is not accepted for the Vaccines for Children program, that will limit access to the shot for the uninsured and those on Medicaid, the majority of whom represent racial or ethnic minorities, Dr. Moore said. The drugmakers would have to negotiate with each state’s Medicaid program to get it on their formularies.

Excluding the shot from Vaccines for Children “would only worsen existing health disparities,” said Sean O’Leary, MD, a professor of pediatrics at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora, and chair of the infectious diseases committee of the American Academy of Pediatrics.

RSV affects babies of all social classes but tends to hit poor, crowded households hardest, said Dr. Graham. “Family history of asthma or allergy makes it worse,” he said, and premature babies are also at higher risk.

While 2%-3% of U.S. infants are hospitalized with RSV each year, only a few hundred don’t survive. But as many as 10,000 people 65 and older perish because of an infection every year, and a little-discussed legal change will make RSV and other vaccines more available to this group.

A section of the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act that went into effect Jan. 1 ends out-of-pocket payments for all vaccines by Medicare patients – including RSV vaccines, if they are licensed for this group.

Before, “if you hadn’t met your deductible, it could be very expensive,” said Leonard Friedland, MD, vice president for scientific affairs and public health in GSK’s vaccines division, which also makes shingles and combination tetanus-diphtheria-whooping cough boosters covered by the new law. “It’s a tremendously important advance.”

Of course, high levels of vaccine hesitancy are likely to blunt uptake of the shots regardless of who pays, said Jennifer Reich, a sociologist at the University of Colorado who studies vaccination attitudes.

New types of shots, like the Sanofi-AstraZeneca antibodies, often alarm parents, and Pfizer’s shot for pregnant women is likely to push fear buttons as well, she said.

Public health officials “don’t seem very savvy about how to get ahead” of claims that vaccines undermine fertility or otherwise harm people, said Ms. Reich.

On the other hand, this winter’s RSV epidemic will be persuasive to many parents, said Heidi Larson, leader of the Vaccine Confidence Project and a professor of anthropology at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.

“It’s a scary thing to have your kid hospitalized with RSV,” she said.

While unfortunate, “the high number of children who died or were admitted to the ICU in the past season with RSV – in some ways that’s helpful,” said Laura Riley, MD, chair of obstetrics and gynecology at Weill Cornell Medicine, New York.

Specialists in her field haven’t really started talking about how to communicate with women about the vaccine, said Dr. Riley, who chairs the immunization group at the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists.

“Everyone’s been waiting to see if it gets approved,” she said. “The education has to start soon, but it’s hard to roll out education before you roll out the shot.”

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.

After more than 5 decades of trying, the drug industry is on the verge of providing effective immunizations against the respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), which has put an estimated 90,000 U.S. infants and small children in the hospital since the start of October.

But only one of the shots is designed to be given to babies, and a glitch in congressional language may make it difficult to allow children from low-income families to get it as readily as the well insured.

Since 1994, routine vaccination has been a childhood entitlement under the Vaccines for Children program, through which the federal government buys millions of vaccines and provides them free through pediatricians and clinics to children who are uninsured, underinsured, or on Medicaid – more than half of all American kids.

The 1993 law creating the program didn’t specifically include antibody shots, which were used only as rare emergency therapy at the time the bill was written.

But the first medication of its kind likely to be available to babies, called nirsevimab (it was approved in Europe in December, and Food and Drug Administration approval is expected in the summer of 2023), is not a vaccine but rather a monoclonal antibody that neutralizes RSV in the bloodstream.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices is certain to recommend giving the antibody to infants, said Kelly Moore, MD, president of the advocacy group Immunize.org. The CDC is currently assessing whether nirsevimab would be eligible for the Vaccines for Children program, agency spokesperson Kristen Nordlund told KHN.

Failing to do so would “consign thousands upon thousands of infants to hospitalization and serious illness for semantic reasons despite existence of an immunization that functionally performs just like a seasonal vaccine,” Dr. Moore said.

Officials from Sanofi, which is producing the nirsevimab injection along with AstraZeneca, declined to state a price but said the range would be similar to that of a pediatric vaccine course. The CDC pays about $650 for the most expensive routine vaccine, the four shots against pneumococcal infection. In other words, FDA approval would make nirsevimab a blockbuster drug worth billions annually if it’s given to a large share of the 3.7 million or so children born in the U.S. each year.

Pfizer and GlaxoSmithKline are making traditional vaccines against RSV and expect FDA approval later in 2023. Pfizer’s shot initially would be given to pregnant women – to shield their babies from the disease – while GSK’s would be given to the elderly.

Vaccines designed for infants are in the pipeline, but some experts are still nervous about them. A 1966 RSV vaccine trial failed spectacularly, killing two toddlers, and immunologists aren’t totally in agreement over the cause, said Barney Graham, MD, PhD, the retired National Institutes of Health scientist whose studies of the episode contributed to successful COVID-19 and RSV vaccines.

After 2 years of COVID lockdowns and masking slowed its transmission, RSV exploded across the United States in 2023, swamping pediatric intensive care units.

Sanofi and AstraZeneca hope to have nirsevimab approved by the FDA, recommended by the CDC, and deployed nationwide by fall to prevent future RSV epidemics.

Their product is designed to be provided before a baby’s first winter RSV season. In clinical trials, the antibodies provided up to 5 months of protection. Most children wouldn’t need a second dose because the virus is not a mortal danger to healthy kids over a year old, said Jon Heinrichs, a senior member of Sanofi’s vaccines division.

If the antibody treatment is not accepted for the Vaccines for Children program, that will limit access to the shot for the uninsured and those on Medicaid, the majority of whom represent racial or ethnic minorities, Dr. Moore said. The drugmakers would have to negotiate with each state’s Medicaid program to get it on their formularies.

Excluding the shot from Vaccines for Children “would only worsen existing health disparities,” said Sean O’Leary, MD, a professor of pediatrics at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora, and chair of the infectious diseases committee of the American Academy of Pediatrics.

RSV affects babies of all social classes but tends to hit poor, crowded households hardest, said Dr. Graham. “Family history of asthma or allergy makes it worse,” he said, and premature babies are also at higher risk.

While 2%-3% of U.S. infants are hospitalized with RSV each year, only a few hundred don’t survive. But as many as 10,000 people 65 and older perish because of an infection every year, and a little-discussed legal change will make RSV and other vaccines more available to this group.

A section of the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act that went into effect Jan. 1 ends out-of-pocket payments for all vaccines by Medicare patients – including RSV vaccines, if they are licensed for this group.

Before, “if you hadn’t met your deductible, it could be very expensive,” said Leonard Friedland, MD, vice president for scientific affairs and public health in GSK’s vaccines division, which also makes shingles and combination tetanus-diphtheria-whooping cough boosters covered by the new law. “It’s a tremendously important advance.”

Of course, high levels of vaccine hesitancy are likely to blunt uptake of the shots regardless of who pays, said Jennifer Reich, a sociologist at the University of Colorado who studies vaccination attitudes.

New types of shots, like the Sanofi-AstraZeneca antibodies, often alarm parents, and Pfizer’s shot for pregnant women is likely to push fear buttons as well, she said.

Public health officials “don’t seem very savvy about how to get ahead” of claims that vaccines undermine fertility or otherwise harm people, said Ms. Reich.

On the other hand, this winter’s RSV epidemic will be persuasive to many parents, said Heidi Larson, leader of the Vaccine Confidence Project and a professor of anthropology at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.

“It’s a scary thing to have your kid hospitalized with RSV,” she said.

While unfortunate, “the high number of children who died or were admitted to the ICU in the past season with RSV – in some ways that’s helpful,” said Laura Riley, MD, chair of obstetrics and gynecology at Weill Cornell Medicine, New York.

Specialists in her field haven’t really started talking about how to communicate with women about the vaccine, said Dr. Riley, who chairs the immunization group at the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists.

“Everyone’s been waiting to see if it gets approved,” she said. “The education has to start soon, but it’s hard to roll out education before you roll out the shot.”

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.

After more than 5 decades of trying, the drug industry is on the verge of providing effective immunizations against the respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), which has put an estimated 90,000 U.S. infants and small children in the hospital since the start of October.

But only one of the shots is designed to be given to babies, and a glitch in congressional language may make it difficult to allow children from low-income families to get it as readily as the well insured.

Since 1994, routine vaccination has been a childhood entitlement under the Vaccines for Children program, through which the federal government buys millions of vaccines and provides them free through pediatricians and clinics to children who are uninsured, underinsured, or on Medicaid – more than half of all American kids.

The 1993 law creating the program didn’t specifically include antibody shots, which were used only as rare emergency therapy at the time the bill was written.

But the first medication of its kind likely to be available to babies, called nirsevimab (it was approved in Europe in December, and Food and Drug Administration approval is expected in the summer of 2023), is not a vaccine but rather a monoclonal antibody that neutralizes RSV in the bloodstream.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices is certain to recommend giving the antibody to infants, said Kelly Moore, MD, president of the advocacy group Immunize.org. The CDC is currently assessing whether nirsevimab would be eligible for the Vaccines for Children program, agency spokesperson Kristen Nordlund told KHN.

Failing to do so would “consign thousands upon thousands of infants to hospitalization and serious illness for semantic reasons despite existence of an immunization that functionally performs just like a seasonal vaccine,” Dr. Moore said.

Officials from Sanofi, which is producing the nirsevimab injection along with AstraZeneca, declined to state a price but said the range would be similar to that of a pediatric vaccine course. The CDC pays about $650 for the most expensive routine vaccine, the four shots against pneumococcal infection. In other words, FDA approval would make nirsevimab a blockbuster drug worth billions annually if it’s given to a large share of the 3.7 million or so children born in the U.S. each year.

Pfizer and GlaxoSmithKline are making traditional vaccines against RSV and expect FDA approval later in 2023. Pfizer’s shot initially would be given to pregnant women – to shield their babies from the disease – while GSK’s would be given to the elderly.

Vaccines designed for infants are in the pipeline, but some experts are still nervous about them. A 1966 RSV vaccine trial failed spectacularly, killing two toddlers, and immunologists aren’t totally in agreement over the cause, said Barney Graham, MD, PhD, the retired National Institutes of Health scientist whose studies of the episode contributed to successful COVID-19 and RSV vaccines.

After 2 years of COVID lockdowns and masking slowed its transmission, RSV exploded across the United States in 2023, swamping pediatric intensive care units.

Sanofi and AstraZeneca hope to have nirsevimab approved by the FDA, recommended by the CDC, and deployed nationwide by fall to prevent future RSV epidemics.

Their product is designed to be provided before a baby’s first winter RSV season. In clinical trials, the antibodies provided up to 5 months of protection. Most children wouldn’t need a second dose because the virus is not a mortal danger to healthy kids over a year old, said Jon Heinrichs, a senior member of Sanofi’s vaccines division.

If the antibody treatment is not accepted for the Vaccines for Children program, that will limit access to the shot for the uninsured and those on Medicaid, the majority of whom represent racial or ethnic minorities, Dr. Moore said. The drugmakers would have to negotiate with each state’s Medicaid program to get it on their formularies.

Excluding the shot from Vaccines for Children “would only worsen existing health disparities,” said Sean O’Leary, MD, a professor of pediatrics at the University of Colorado at Denver, Aurora, and chair of the infectious diseases committee of the American Academy of Pediatrics.

RSV affects babies of all social classes but tends to hit poor, crowded households hardest, said Dr. Graham. “Family history of asthma or allergy makes it worse,” he said, and premature babies are also at higher risk.

While 2%-3% of U.S. infants are hospitalized with RSV each year, only a few hundred don’t survive. But as many as 10,000 people 65 and older perish because of an infection every year, and a little-discussed legal change will make RSV and other vaccines more available to this group.

A section of the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act that went into effect Jan. 1 ends out-of-pocket payments for all vaccines by Medicare patients – including RSV vaccines, if they are licensed for this group.

Before, “if you hadn’t met your deductible, it could be very expensive,” said Leonard Friedland, MD, vice president for scientific affairs and public health in GSK’s vaccines division, which also makes shingles and combination tetanus-diphtheria-whooping cough boosters covered by the new law. “It’s a tremendously important advance.”

Of course, high levels of vaccine hesitancy are likely to blunt uptake of the shots regardless of who pays, said Jennifer Reich, a sociologist at the University of Colorado who studies vaccination attitudes.

New types of shots, like the Sanofi-AstraZeneca antibodies, often alarm parents, and Pfizer’s shot for pregnant women is likely to push fear buttons as well, she said.

Public health officials “don’t seem very savvy about how to get ahead” of claims that vaccines undermine fertility or otherwise harm people, said Ms. Reich.

On the other hand, this winter’s RSV epidemic will be persuasive to many parents, said Heidi Larson, leader of the Vaccine Confidence Project and a professor of anthropology at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.

“It’s a scary thing to have your kid hospitalized with RSV,” she said.

While unfortunate, “the high number of children who died or were admitted to the ICU in the past season with RSV – in some ways that’s helpful,” said Laura Riley, MD, chair of obstetrics and gynecology at Weill Cornell Medicine, New York.

Specialists in her field haven’t really started talking about how to communicate with women about the vaccine, said Dr. Riley, who chairs the immunization group at the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists.

“Everyone’s been waiting to see if it gets approved,” she said. “The education has to start soon, but it’s hard to roll out education before you roll out the shot.”

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.

When the Affordable Care Act was signed in 2010, patients became eligible for coverage of screening examinations, which was good news for gastroenterologists and their patients in the fight to prevent colorectal cancer.

But there was a problem: While noninvasive stool tests – measuring microscopic amounts of blood or key DNA mutations, both tip-offs to increased colorectal cancer risk – were considered a screen, the necessary follow-up colonoscopy was not, leaving patients with expensive copays or other payment responsibility.

That interpretation prompted a years-long effort to have the federal agencies who oversee the health insurance sector reinterpret their policy, which finally changed in May 2022. Medicare, which is not covered by the ACA and is administered by a different agency, announced a change to its policy in July 2022, and the change went into effect in January 2023.

“It’s a major victory for patients, and I couldn’t be more delighted,” said David Lieberman, MD, AGAF, professor of medicine in gastroenterology at Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, and former American Gastroenterological Association president, who participated in the effort.

AGA Regulatory Affairs Director Leslie Narramore said AGA Vice President of Public Policy and Advocacy Kathleen Teixeira worked for 10 years, alongside other GI societies and patient advocacy groups, to close the “colonoscopy loophole.” In 2022, the AGA, Fight Colorectal Cancer, and the American Cancer Society–Cancer Action Network met with White House officials and senior officials with the Department of Health & Human Services about expanding the coverage. They also lobbied to eliminate cost-sharing, another way in which preventive colonoscopy is discouraged.

“The COVID-19 public health emergency highlighted health disparities and barriers to access to care,” said Ms. Narramore, who gave input about the effort along with Ms. Teixeira and AGA Director of Government Affairs Sarah Ankney. “The temporary suspension of elective procedures, including screening colonoscopies, exacerbated the existing low colorectal screening rates and created momentum and willingness in agency officials to create positive change.”

Without coverage of the colonoscopy, patients have needed to cover at least part of the cost of the procedure, which could be $1,000 or more with private insurance, or $100 or more with Medicare, Dr. Lieberman said. So, he noted, unsuspecting patients might receive a positive result on a noninvasive test and have a colonoscopy, only to get a “surprise bill.” Or they would know about the lack of coverage and not get the colonoscopy.

“Prior to the policy change, gastroenterologists and their staff had to explain to patients that their insurer would not fully pay for a colonoscopy following a positive noninvasive stool test, and field questions from upset patients who weren’t aware of their insurance plan’s cost-sharing requirements for a cancer screening procedure they thought was free,” Ms. Narramore said.

There’s little doubt the change will help save lives and improve quality of life, Dr. Lieberman said.

“We don’t know the full impact of this new ruling, but we know that financial barriers are important for some patients,” he said. “And so by removing these barriers we hope that we’re going to see improved adherence to follow-up with colonoscopy after a positive stool test, and that would result in reductions in incidence, mortality, and increased life-years gained.”

Ms. Narramore said the changes show the importance of pushing for policy change.

“Our physician advocates were effective in educating policy makers on the need for coverage of the full colorectal cancer screening continuum, and how colorectal cancer needs to be viewed as a program given the various steps necessary for a complete screening,” she said. “These successful efforts demonstrate to our members that advocacy works and that they can be a voice for their patients in improving their access to care.”






 

When the Affordable Care Act was signed in 2010, patients became eligible for coverage of screening examinations, which was good news for gastroenterologists and their patients in the fight to prevent colorectal cancer.

But there was a problem: While noninvasive stool tests – measuring microscopic amounts of blood or key DNA mutations, both tip-offs to increased colorectal cancer risk – were considered a screen, the necessary follow-up colonoscopy was not, leaving patients with expensive copays or other payment responsibility.

That interpretation prompted a years-long effort to have the federal agencies who oversee the health insurance sector reinterpret their policy, which finally changed in May 2022. Medicare, which is not covered by the ACA and is administered by a different agency, announced a change to its policy in July 2022, and the change went into effect in January 2023.

“It’s a major victory for patients, and I couldn’t be more delighted,” said David Lieberman, MD, AGAF, professor of medicine in gastroenterology at Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, and former American Gastroenterological Association president, who participated in the effort.

AGA Regulatory Affairs Director Leslie Narramore said AGA Vice President of Public Policy and Advocacy Kathleen Teixeira worked for 10 years, alongside other GI societies and patient advocacy groups, to close the “colonoscopy loophole.” In 2022, the AGA, Fight Colorectal Cancer, and the American Cancer Society–Cancer Action Network met with White House officials and senior officials with the Department of Health & Human Services about expanding the coverage. They also lobbied to eliminate cost-sharing, another way in which preventive colonoscopy is discouraged.

“The COVID-19 public health emergency highlighted health disparities and barriers to access to care,” said Ms. Narramore, who gave input about the effort along with Ms. Teixeira and AGA Director of Government Affairs Sarah Ankney. “The temporary suspension of elective procedures, including screening colonoscopies, exacerbated the existing low colorectal screening rates and created momentum and willingness in agency officials to create positive change.”

Without coverage of the colonoscopy, patients have needed to cover at least part of the cost of the procedure, which could be $1,000 or more with private insurance, or $100 or more with Medicare, Dr. Lieberman said. So, he noted, unsuspecting patients might receive a positive result on a noninvasive test and have a colonoscopy, only to get a “surprise bill.” Or they would know about the lack of coverage and not get the colonoscopy.

“Prior to the policy change, gastroenterologists and their staff had to explain to patients that their insurer would not fully pay for a colonoscopy following a positive noninvasive stool test, and field questions from upset patients who weren’t aware of their insurance plan’s cost-sharing requirements for a cancer screening procedure they thought was free,” Ms. Narramore said.

There’s little doubt the change will help save lives and improve quality of life, Dr. Lieberman said.

“We don’t know the full impact of this new ruling, but we know that financial barriers are important for some patients,” he said. “And so by removing these barriers we hope that we’re going to see improved adherence to follow-up with colonoscopy after a positive stool test, and that would result in reductions in incidence, mortality, and increased life-years gained.”

Ms. Narramore said the changes show the importance of pushing for policy change.

“Our physician advocates were effective in educating policy makers on the need for coverage of the full colorectal cancer screening continuum, and how colorectal cancer needs to be viewed as a program given the various steps necessary for a complete screening,” she said. “These successful efforts demonstrate to our members that advocacy works and that they can be a voice for their patients in improving their access to care.”






 

When the Affordable Care Act was signed in 2010, patients became eligible for coverage of screening examinations, which was good news for gastroenterologists and their patients in the fight to prevent colorectal cancer.

But there was a problem: While noninvasive stool tests – measuring microscopic amounts of blood or key DNA mutations, both tip-offs to increased colorectal cancer risk – were considered a screen, the necessary follow-up colonoscopy was not, leaving patients with expensive copays or other payment responsibility.

That interpretation prompted a years-long effort to have the federal agencies who oversee the health insurance sector reinterpret their policy, which finally changed in May 2022. Medicare, which is not covered by the ACA and is administered by a different agency, announced a change to its policy in July 2022, and the change went into effect in January 2023.

“It’s a major victory for patients, and I couldn’t be more delighted,” said David Lieberman, MD, AGAF, professor of medicine in gastroenterology at Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, and former American Gastroenterological Association president, who participated in the effort.

AGA Regulatory Affairs Director Leslie Narramore said AGA Vice President of Public Policy and Advocacy Kathleen Teixeira worked for 10 years, alongside other GI societies and patient advocacy groups, to close the “colonoscopy loophole.” In 2022, the AGA, Fight Colorectal Cancer, and the American Cancer Society–Cancer Action Network met with White House officials and senior officials with the Department of Health & Human Services about expanding the coverage. They also lobbied to eliminate cost-sharing, another way in which preventive colonoscopy is discouraged.

“The COVID-19 public health emergency highlighted health disparities and barriers to access to care,” said Ms. Narramore, who gave input about the effort along with Ms. Teixeira and AGA Director of Government Affairs Sarah Ankney. “The temporary suspension of elective procedures, including screening colonoscopies, exacerbated the existing low colorectal screening rates and created momentum and willingness in agency officials to create positive change.”

Without coverage of the colonoscopy, patients have needed to cover at least part of the cost of the procedure, which could be $1,000 or more with private insurance, or $100 or more with Medicare, Dr. Lieberman said. So, he noted, unsuspecting patients might receive a positive result on a noninvasive test and have a colonoscopy, only to get a “surprise bill.” Or they would know about the lack of coverage and not get the colonoscopy.

“Prior to the policy change, gastroenterologists and their staff had to explain to patients that their insurer would not fully pay for a colonoscopy following a positive noninvasive stool test, and field questions from upset patients who weren’t aware of their insurance plan’s cost-sharing requirements for a cancer screening procedure they thought was free,” Ms. Narramore said.

There’s little doubt the change will help save lives and improve quality of life, Dr. Lieberman said.

“We don’t know the full impact of this new ruling, but we know that financial barriers are important for some patients,” he said. “And so by removing these barriers we hope that we’re going to see improved adherence to follow-up with colonoscopy after a positive stool test, and that would result in reductions in incidence, mortality, and increased life-years gained.”

Ms. Narramore said the changes show the importance of pushing for policy change.

“Our physician advocates were effective in educating policy makers on the need for coverage of the full colorectal cancer screening continuum, and how colorectal cancer needs to be viewed as a program given the various steps necessary for a complete screening,” she said. “These successful efforts demonstrate to our members that advocacy works and that they can be a voice for their patients in improving their access to care.”






 

“Congratulations on the baby. You look great!” I enthusiastically proclaimed to my classmate. It was the start of the fall semester of my sophomore year of college.

At my small women’s college, the previous semester’s gossip had been about our classmate, S*. She had gone from being very thin to noticeably gaining a lot of weight in a few months. The rumors were that S was pregnant and gave birth over summer break. As a busy biology premed major, this was my first time hearing the news. So when I saw her standing in the hallway, back to her previous weight, I was excited for her.

In true extravert fashion, I commented on the baby and her new size. But no sooner had the words left my mouth than I regretted them.

The hall grew awkwardly silent as S’s face flushed and she asked, “Excuse me?!” Instantly I knew that the rumors weren’t true.

Thankfully, at that moment, the classroom opened and we walked in. Whew! After class, S asked if we could talk. She explained that she had a thyroid tumor and struggled to adjust to the treatments, which caused her weight fluctuations. She had never been pregnant.

My awkward statement had been the first time anyone on campus had directly mentioned her weight, though she suspected that people were talking about her. We became fast friends after this rocky beginning. Although we lost touch after college, S taught me an invaluable lesson about making assumptions about people’s weight: Ask before you assume.

Now, years later, as an internist and obesity specialist, this lesson continues to be reinforced daily.

In daily life, comments about weight can be perceived as rude. In the clinical setting, however, assumptions about weight are a form of weight bias. Weight bias can lead to weight stigma and even be dangerous to health care.

Let’s discuss the insidious influence of weight bias in health care through two commonly used phrases and then look at a few solutions to address weight bias in health care individually and systematically.
 

Common weight bias assumptions

“Great job, you lost weight!” In checking your patient’s vital signs, you notice that this patient with obesity has a significant weight change. You congratulate them upon entering the room. Unfortunately, their weight loss was a result of minimal eating after losing a loved one. This isn’t healthy weight loss. One of the adverse effects of weight bias is that it infers that weight loss is always a good thing, especially in people with larger bodies. This is a dangerous presumption. Let’s remember that the body favors fat storage, hence why “unintentional weight loss” is a recognized medical condition prompting evaluation. We have to be careful not to celebrate weight loss “at all costs,” such as fad diets that haven’t been shown to improve health outcomes.

Furthermore, patients who lose weight quickly (more than 4-8 lb/month) require closer follow-up and evaluation for secondary causes of weight loss. Patients may lose weight at a faster rate with the new antiobesity medications, but clinicians still should ensure that age-appropriate health maintenance screening is done and be vigilant for secondary causes of weight changes.

“Have you tried losing weight yet?” Three times. That’s how many times Chanté Burkett went to her doctor about her painful, enlarging firm stomach. She was advised to continue working on weight loss, which she did diligently. But Ms. Burkett’s abdomen kept growing and her concerns were dismissed. A visit to urgent care and a CT scan revealed that Ms. Burkett’s excess abdominal “fat” was a 13-lb mucinous cystadenoma. Sadly, cases like hers aren’t rare, isolated events. Weight bias can cause anchoring on one diagnosis, preventing consideration of other diagnostic possibilities. Even worse, anchoring will lead to the wrong intervention, such as prescribing weight loss for presumed increased adiposity instead of ordering the appropriate testing.

It’s also essential to recognize that, even if someone does have the disease of obesity, weight loss isn’t the solution to every medical concern. Even if weight loss is helpful, other, more pressing treatments may still be necessary. Telling a person with obesity who has an acute complaint to “just lose weight” is comparable to telling a patient with coronary artery disease who presents with an 80% vessel occlusion and chest pain to follow a low-fat diet. In both cases, you need to address the acute concern appropriately, then focus on the chronic treatment.
 

Ways to reduce clinical weight bias

How do you reduce clinical weight bias?

Ask, don’t assume. The information from the scale is simply data. Instead of judging it positively or negatively and creating a story, ask the patient. An unbiased way to approach the conversation is to say, “Great to see you. You seem [positive adjective of choice]. How have you been?” Wait until the vitals section to objectively discuss weight unless the patient offers the discussion earlier or their chief complaint lists a weight-related concern.

Order necessary tests to evaluate weight. Weight is the vital sign that people wear externally, so we feel that we can readily interpret it without any further assessment. However, resist the urge to interpret scale data without context. Keeping an open mind helps prevent anchoring and missing critical clues in the clinical history.

Address weight changes effectively. Sometimes there is an indication to prescribe weight loss as part of the treatment plan. However, remember that weight loss isn’t simply “calories in vs. calories out.” Obesity is a complex medical disease that requires a multimodal treatment approach. As clinicians, we have access to the most powerful tools for weight loss. Unfortunately, weight bias contributes to limited prescribing of metabolic medications (“antiobesity medications” or AOMs). In addition, systemic weight bias prevents insurance coverage of AOMs. The Treat and Reduce Obesity Act has been introduced into Congress to help improve life-transforming access to AOMs.

Acknowledge your bias. Our experiences make us all susceptible to bias. The Harvard Weight Implicit Association Test is free and a helpful way to assess your level of weight bias. I take it annually to ensure that I remain objective in my practice.

Addressing weight bias needs to extend beyond the individual level.

Systemically, health care needs to address the following:

Language. Use people-centered language. For example, “People aren’t obese. They have obesity.”

Accessibility. Health care settings must be comfortable and accessible for people of all sizes. Furthermore, improvements to access the services that comprehensive obesity care requires, such as AOMs, bariatric procedures and bariatric surgery, mental health care, nutrition, fitness specialists, health coaches, and more, are needed.

Education. Medical students and trainees have to learn the newest obesity science and know how to treat obesity effectively. Acknowledge and address biased tools. Recent data have shown that some of our screening tools, such as body mass index, have inherent bias. It’s time to focus on using improved diagnostic tools and personalized treatments.

We are at a pivotal time in our scientific understanding of body weight regulation and the disease of obesity. Clinical weight bias is primarily rooted in flawed science influenced by biased cultural norms and other forms of discrimination, such as racial and gender bias. We must move past assumptions to give our patients the optimal individualized care they need. So next time you observe a weight change, instead of commenting on their weight, say, “Great to see you! How have you been?”

S*: Initial has been changed to protect privacy.

Dr. Gonsahn-Bollie is an integrative obesity specialist focused on individualized solutions for emotional and biological overeating. Connect with her at www.embraceyouweightloss.com or on Instagram @embraceyoumd. Her bestselling book, “Embrace You: Your Guide to Transforming Weight Loss Misconceptions Into Lifelong Wellness”, was Healthline.com’s Best Overall Weight Loss Book of 2022 and one of Livestrong.com’s 8 Best Weight-Loss Books to Read in 2022. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article originally appeared on Medscape.com.

“Congratulations on the baby. You look great!” I enthusiastically proclaimed to my classmate. It was the start of the fall semester of my sophomore year of college.

At my small women’s college, the previous semester’s gossip had been about our classmate, S*. She had gone from being very thin to noticeably gaining a lot of weight in a few months. The rumors were that S was pregnant and gave birth over summer break. As a busy biology premed major, this was my first time hearing the news. So when I saw her standing in the hallway, back to her previous weight, I was excited for her.

In true extravert fashion, I commented on the baby and her new size. But no sooner had the words left my mouth than I regretted them.

The hall grew awkwardly silent as S’s face flushed and she asked, “Excuse me?!” Instantly I knew that the rumors weren’t true.

Thankfully, at that moment, the classroom opened and we walked in. Whew! After class, S asked if we could talk. She explained that she had a thyroid tumor and struggled to adjust to the treatments, which caused her weight fluctuations. She had never been pregnant.

My awkward statement had been the first time anyone on campus had directly mentioned her weight, though she suspected that people were talking about her. We became fast friends after this rocky beginning. Although we lost touch after college, S taught me an invaluable lesson about making assumptions about people’s weight: Ask before you assume.

Now, years later, as an internist and obesity specialist, this lesson continues to be reinforced daily.

In daily life, comments about weight can be perceived as rude. In the clinical setting, however, assumptions about weight are a form of weight bias. Weight bias can lead to weight stigma and even be dangerous to health care.

Let’s discuss the insidious influence of weight bias in health care through two commonly used phrases and then look at a few solutions to address weight bias in health care individually and systematically.
 

Common weight bias assumptions

“Great job, you lost weight!” In checking your patient’s vital signs, you notice that this patient with obesity has a significant weight change. You congratulate them upon entering the room. Unfortunately, their weight loss was a result of minimal eating after losing a loved one. This isn’t healthy weight loss. One of the adverse effects of weight bias is that it infers that weight loss is always a good thing, especially in people with larger bodies. This is a dangerous presumption. Let’s remember that the body favors fat storage, hence why “unintentional weight loss” is a recognized medical condition prompting evaluation. We have to be careful not to celebrate weight loss “at all costs,” such as fad diets that haven’t been shown to improve health outcomes.

Furthermore, patients who lose weight quickly (more than 4-8 lb/month) require closer follow-up and evaluation for secondary causes of weight loss. Patients may lose weight at a faster rate with the new antiobesity medications, but clinicians still should ensure that age-appropriate health maintenance screening is done and be vigilant for secondary causes of weight changes.

“Have you tried losing weight yet?” Three times. That’s how many times Chanté Burkett went to her doctor about her painful, enlarging firm stomach. She was advised to continue working on weight loss, which she did diligently. But Ms. Burkett’s abdomen kept growing and her concerns were dismissed. A visit to urgent care and a CT scan revealed that Ms. Burkett’s excess abdominal “fat” was a 13-lb mucinous cystadenoma. Sadly, cases like hers aren’t rare, isolated events. Weight bias can cause anchoring on one diagnosis, preventing consideration of other diagnostic possibilities. Even worse, anchoring will lead to the wrong intervention, such as prescribing weight loss for presumed increased adiposity instead of ordering the appropriate testing.

It’s also essential to recognize that, even if someone does have the disease of obesity, weight loss isn’t the solution to every medical concern. Even if weight loss is helpful, other, more pressing treatments may still be necessary. Telling a person with obesity who has an acute complaint to “just lose weight” is comparable to telling a patient with coronary artery disease who presents with an 80% vessel occlusion and chest pain to follow a low-fat diet. In both cases, you need to address the acute concern appropriately, then focus on the chronic treatment.
 

Ways to reduce clinical weight bias

How do you reduce clinical weight bias?

Ask, don’t assume. The information from the scale is simply data. Instead of judging it positively or negatively and creating a story, ask the patient. An unbiased way to approach the conversation is to say, “Great to see you. You seem [positive adjective of choice]. How have you been?” Wait until the vitals section to objectively discuss weight unless the patient offers the discussion earlier or their chief complaint lists a weight-related concern.

Order necessary tests to evaluate weight. Weight is the vital sign that people wear externally, so we feel that we can readily interpret it without any further assessment. However, resist the urge to interpret scale data without context. Keeping an open mind helps prevent anchoring and missing critical clues in the clinical history.

Address weight changes effectively. Sometimes there is an indication to prescribe weight loss as part of the treatment plan. However, remember that weight loss isn’t simply “calories in vs. calories out.” Obesity is a complex medical disease that requires a multimodal treatment approach. As clinicians, we have access to the most powerful tools for weight loss. Unfortunately, weight bias contributes to limited prescribing of metabolic medications (“antiobesity medications” or AOMs). In addition, systemic weight bias prevents insurance coverage of AOMs. The Treat and Reduce Obesity Act has been introduced into Congress to help improve life-transforming access to AOMs.

Acknowledge your bias. Our experiences make us all susceptible to bias. The Harvard Weight Implicit Association Test is free and a helpful way to assess your level of weight bias. I take it annually to ensure that I remain objective in my practice.

Addressing weight bias needs to extend beyond the individual level.

Systemically, health care needs to address the following:

Language. Use people-centered language. For example, “People aren’t obese. They have obesity.”

Accessibility. Health care settings must be comfortable and accessible for people of all sizes. Furthermore, improvements to access the services that comprehensive obesity care requires, such as AOMs, bariatric procedures and bariatric surgery, mental health care, nutrition, fitness specialists, health coaches, and more, are needed.

Education. Medical students and trainees have to learn the newest obesity science and know how to treat obesity effectively. Acknowledge and address biased tools. Recent data have shown that some of our screening tools, such as body mass index, have inherent bias. It’s time to focus on using improved diagnostic tools and personalized treatments.

We are at a pivotal time in our scientific understanding of body weight regulation and the disease of obesity. Clinical weight bias is primarily rooted in flawed science influenced by biased cultural norms and other forms of discrimination, such as racial and gender bias. We must move past assumptions to give our patients the optimal individualized care they need. So next time you observe a weight change, instead of commenting on their weight, say, “Great to see you! How have you been?”

S*: Initial has been changed to protect privacy.

Dr. Gonsahn-Bollie is an integrative obesity specialist focused on individualized solutions for emotional and biological overeating. Connect with her at www.embraceyouweightloss.com or on Instagram @embraceyoumd. Her bestselling book, “Embrace You: Your Guide to Transforming Weight Loss Misconceptions Into Lifelong Wellness”, was Healthline.com’s Best Overall Weight Loss Book of 2022 and one of Livestrong.com’s 8 Best Weight-Loss Books to Read in 2022. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article originally appeared on Medscape.com.

“Congratulations on the baby. You look great!” I enthusiastically proclaimed to my classmate. It was the start of the fall semester of my sophomore year of college.

At my small women’s college, the previous semester’s gossip had been about our classmate, S*. She had gone from being very thin to noticeably gaining a lot of weight in a few months. The rumors were that S was pregnant and gave birth over summer break. As a busy biology premed major, this was my first time hearing the news. So when I saw her standing in the hallway, back to her previous weight, I was excited for her.

In true extravert fashion, I commented on the baby and her new size. But no sooner had the words left my mouth than I regretted them.

The hall grew awkwardly silent as S’s face flushed and she asked, “Excuse me?!” Instantly I knew that the rumors weren’t true.

Thankfully, at that moment, the classroom opened and we walked in. Whew! After class, S asked if we could talk. She explained that she had a thyroid tumor and struggled to adjust to the treatments, which caused her weight fluctuations. She had never been pregnant.

My awkward statement had been the first time anyone on campus had directly mentioned her weight, though she suspected that people were talking about her. We became fast friends after this rocky beginning. Although we lost touch after college, S taught me an invaluable lesson about making assumptions about people’s weight: Ask before you assume.

Now, years later, as an internist and obesity specialist, this lesson continues to be reinforced daily.

In daily life, comments about weight can be perceived as rude. In the clinical setting, however, assumptions about weight are a form of weight bias. Weight bias can lead to weight stigma and even be dangerous to health care.

Let’s discuss the insidious influence of weight bias in health care through two commonly used phrases and then look at a few solutions to address weight bias in health care individually and systematically.
 

Common weight bias assumptions

“Great job, you lost weight!” In checking your patient’s vital signs, you notice that this patient with obesity has a significant weight change. You congratulate them upon entering the room. Unfortunately, their weight loss was a result of minimal eating after losing a loved one. This isn’t healthy weight loss. One of the adverse effects of weight bias is that it infers that weight loss is always a good thing, especially in people with larger bodies. This is a dangerous presumption. Let’s remember that the body favors fat storage, hence why “unintentional weight loss” is a recognized medical condition prompting evaluation. We have to be careful not to celebrate weight loss “at all costs,” such as fad diets that haven’t been shown to improve health outcomes.

Furthermore, patients who lose weight quickly (more than 4-8 lb/month) require closer follow-up and evaluation for secondary causes of weight loss. Patients may lose weight at a faster rate with the new antiobesity medications, but clinicians still should ensure that age-appropriate health maintenance screening is done and be vigilant for secondary causes of weight changes.

“Have you tried losing weight yet?” Three times. That’s how many times Chanté Burkett went to her doctor about her painful, enlarging firm stomach. She was advised to continue working on weight loss, which she did diligently. But Ms. Burkett’s abdomen kept growing and her concerns were dismissed. A visit to urgent care and a CT scan revealed that Ms. Burkett’s excess abdominal “fat” was a 13-lb mucinous cystadenoma. Sadly, cases like hers aren’t rare, isolated events. Weight bias can cause anchoring on one diagnosis, preventing consideration of other diagnostic possibilities. Even worse, anchoring will lead to the wrong intervention, such as prescribing weight loss for presumed increased adiposity instead of ordering the appropriate testing.

It’s also essential to recognize that, even if someone does have the disease of obesity, weight loss isn’t the solution to every medical concern. Even if weight loss is helpful, other, more pressing treatments may still be necessary. Telling a person with obesity who has an acute complaint to “just lose weight” is comparable to telling a patient with coronary artery disease who presents with an 80% vessel occlusion and chest pain to follow a low-fat diet. In both cases, you need to address the acute concern appropriately, then focus on the chronic treatment.
 

Ways to reduce clinical weight bias

How do you reduce clinical weight bias?

Ask, don’t assume. The information from the scale is simply data. Instead of judging it positively or negatively and creating a story, ask the patient. An unbiased way to approach the conversation is to say, “Great to see you. You seem [positive adjective of choice]. How have you been?” Wait until the vitals section to objectively discuss weight unless the patient offers the discussion earlier or their chief complaint lists a weight-related concern.

Order necessary tests to evaluate weight. Weight is the vital sign that people wear externally, so we feel that we can readily interpret it without any further assessment. However, resist the urge to interpret scale data without context. Keeping an open mind helps prevent anchoring and missing critical clues in the clinical history.

Address weight changes effectively. Sometimes there is an indication to prescribe weight loss as part of the treatment plan. However, remember that weight loss isn’t simply “calories in vs. calories out.” Obesity is a complex medical disease that requires a multimodal treatment approach. As clinicians, we have access to the most powerful tools for weight loss. Unfortunately, weight bias contributes to limited prescribing of metabolic medications (“antiobesity medications” or AOMs). In addition, systemic weight bias prevents insurance coverage of AOMs. The Treat and Reduce Obesity Act has been introduced into Congress to help improve life-transforming access to AOMs.

Acknowledge your bias. Our experiences make us all susceptible to bias. The Harvard Weight Implicit Association Test is free and a helpful way to assess your level of weight bias. I take it annually to ensure that I remain objective in my practice.

Addressing weight bias needs to extend beyond the individual level.

Systemically, health care needs to address the following:

Language. Use people-centered language. For example, “People aren’t obese. They have obesity.”

Accessibility. Health care settings must be comfortable and accessible for people of all sizes. Furthermore, improvements to access the services that comprehensive obesity care requires, such as AOMs, bariatric procedures and bariatric surgery, mental health care, nutrition, fitness specialists, health coaches, and more, are needed.

Education. Medical students and trainees have to learn the newest obesity science and know how to treat obesity effectively. Acknowledge and address biased tools. Recent data have shown that some of our screening tools, such as body mass index, have inherent bias. It’s time to focus on using improved diagnostic tools and personalized treatments.

We are at a pivotal time in our scientific understanding of body weight regulation and the disease of obesity. Clinical weight bias is primarily rooted in flawed science influenced by biased cultural norms and other forms of discrimination, such as racial and gender bias. We must move past assumptions to give our patients the optimal individualized care they need. So next time you observe a weight change, instead of commenting on their weight, say, “Great to see you! How have you been?”

S*: Initial has been changed to protect privacy.

Dr. Gonsahn-Bollie is an integrative obesity specialist focused on individualized solutions for emotional and biological overeating. Connect with her at www.embraceyouweightloss.com or on Instagram @embraceyoumd. Her bestselling book, “Embrace You: Your Guide to Transforming Weight Loss Misconceptions Into Lifelong Wellness”, was Healthline.com’s Best Overall Weight Loss Book of 2022 and one of Livestrong.com’s 8 Best Weight-Loss Books to Read in 2022. She has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. A version of this article originally appeared on Medscape.com.