Horseshoes & Hand Grenades

Well, it was close.

I was fortunate to be selected as a finalist in a national essay contest about the frequently-outrageous-and-almost-never-transparent costs of obtaining medical care.

But I didn’t win any of the big prizes. Out of eight finalists, I got an honorable mention.

It’s not the destination…it’s the journey.

And being selected in the first wave still feels good–like someone out there is listening.

I wrote about this issue previously (complete with embedded video!). The scientific paper that discusses the research we did has been accepted for publication and will be out very soon (look for an update on this blog and a tweet or two).

Here, then, is the narrative version of what inspired the work and how we did it:

[All names and identifying features of characters in this story have been changed.]

Nora, a third year medical student, came to me in moral distress.

Ms. DiFazio, one of the hospitalized patients on her Internal Medicine rotation, was frightened to undergo an invasive (and expensive) medical procedure: cardiac catheterization.

The first year doctor [‘intern’] with whom Nora was paired, Dr. White, vented to her:

“These patients come to us seeking our help and then refuse what we have to offer them,” Dr. White steamed.

At the bedside, the intern demanded to know why Ms. DiFazio refused the procedure. When no reason beyond “I don’t want to” was offered, Dr. White told Ms. DiFazio that there was no longer cause for her to stay in the hospital.

By declining the procedure, Dr. White informed Ms. DiFazio that she would have to sign out ‘against medical advice’ (AMA). To signify this she would have to acknowledge that leaving AMA could result in serious harm or death. In addition, Ms. DiFazio would bear responsibility for any and all hospital charges incurred and not reimbursed by her insurance due to such a decision.

“The threat of a huge hospital bill got Ms. DiFazio to stay and take the test,” Nora related.  “It just seems so wrong to bludgeon a patient this way. Can it possibly be true?”

I’d been out of medical school myself for eight years at that point; until then I’d never heard that patients who sign out against medical advice risk bearing the costs of their hospitalization. What about a patient’s freedom of choice, or as we like to call it in medicine, their autonomy?

I told Nora I didn’t know, but was determined to find out. Ethically, the notion that patients in the hospital must do our bidding or pay the price seemed dubious. Yet in a world of co-pays, deductibles, and ‘preexisting conditions,’ a mere grain of plausibility made this idea seem vaguely credible.

I asked around. To my surprise, many fellow attending physicians told me they had been taught the very same thing. My colleagues had trained at teaching institutions around the country, so I began to see this as a pervasive and widely-held belief.

I straw polled some of our residents, and like Dr. White, found that they almost unanimously believed that AMA discharges incurred financial penalties. Where did they learn this?

From their attendings.

From the nurses.

From the AMA form itself, with language stating that the patient, by signing, acknowledges financial risk.

We needed to find the truth.

Colleagues helped us sift through nearly ten years of AMA discharges from our teaching hospital. And though the results are in press at a medical journal, I can say that out of hundreds of cases of AMA discharges over a decade, in only a handful was the bill was not paid—and that was invariably due to ‘administrative issues,’ not because of the AMA discharge.

I also thought it important to go to the source: I called the insurance companies themselves. I talked with VPs and media relations people from several of the nation’s largest private insurance carriers.

Each of them told me that the idea of a patient leaving AMA and having to foot their bill is bunk: nothing more than a medical urban legend.

They were glad to tell me so, as this was a rare occasion of insurance companies looking magnanimous. One director went so far as to poll his company’s own medical directors—a half dozen of them–and found that several of them had been taught and believed the canard about AMA discharge and financial responsibility. He was happy to set the record straight.

So patients and doctors beware: The next time you or your loved one has decided that it’s time to leave the hospital, don’t let us doctors coerce you into staying by threatening you with the bill.

It simply isn’t true that leaving against medical advice makes it fall entirely upon your pocketbook.

Future Noras should feel empowered to set the record straight with their interns and residents. Most of all, the Ms. DiFazios of the world won’t have to submit to procedures that they don’t wish to undergo.

You can read a press account about the contest winners here. And if you have a story about the costs of care that you’d like to share, I’d love to hear about it.

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6 Comments Posted in health care finance, hospital care, medical education, medical ethics, medical urban legends, patient experience
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In Honor of the Day

You may remember a previous post in which I related the story of my conversations with two special men, both of whom had retired. One was a biochemist; the other a rabbi. Both lived through the civil rights movement. The rabbi marched in Selma, Alabama, among other places.

Both men are now deceased.

One of the treasures found in going through the rabbi’s papers is posted below. Written in 1963, the letter’s closing seems prophetic as much today as it was then: “Although the days are now dark, I am convinced that we stand on the threshold of our nation’s bright tomorrows.”

Humble efforts indeed.

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3 Comments Posted in aging, narrative, reminiscence
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Touch me or Touch me not?

A tug-of-war is going on in medicine right now between the past and the future. The present is confused and very unsure of itself.

Though I could be writing about health care in the U.S and the looming Supreme Court battle over the new health care law (ACA), I’m actually raising a much more intimate issue: Whether your doctor touches (examines) you or not.

Many pundits have weighed in on whether the physical exam has utility in an age when we have machines that can look inside the body and evaluate its physiology as never before.

Others have suggested that regardless of an exam’s diagnostic capabilities, performing a physical has intrinsic value: connecting with patients. It’s what they (you) expect. Touch is inherently therapeutic and offers solace.

Medical schools still teach the ancient art of the the physical exam:

  • Inspection. Looking at the patient.
  • Palpation. Touching the patient.
  • Percussion. Tapping the patient’s torso (chest + abdomen) to locate organs and detect extra fluid if present.
  • Auscultation. Listening with our stethoscopes.

These artful skills originated as far back as Hippocrates (though it wasn’t until 1821 that Laennec invented the stethoscope).

Listen to the talk from Dr. Abraham Verghese (Stanford doctor and author of the novel Cutting for Stone) about the rise of the iPatient and his call to return to fundamentals–not only as good medicine but as effective and therapeutic medicine.

Contrast Dr. Verghese’s approach with the experience of Dr. Bryan Vartabedian, a gastroenterologist, blogger, and social media authority from Texas.

Dr. Vartabedian

Dr. V has a history of herniated lumbar disks. He visited an orthopedic surgeon for a consultation, and this is what he wrote about his visit:

…through the course of my visit he never touched me.  We spent an extraordinary amount of time examining my MRI.  Together in front of a large monitor we looked at every angle of my spine with me asking questions.  I could see first hand what had been keeping me up at night.  I could understand why certain positions make me comfortable.  What we drew from those images could never be determined with human hands.  In my experience as a patient, I consider it one of my most thorough exams.

[You can read the complete post here.]

The contrast between the two experiences and the reactions to them could not be more profound. It leaves me wondering what the most important elements of doctoring are to pass along to my trainees. Losing the physical exam seems blasphemous. Yet sometimes I’ll admit it feels more like hocus pocus than a meaningful endeavor.

What are your views? Is it necessary for a doctor to touch you on each visit? Is a yearly physical crucial? Would a consultation with a doctor be valuable if all you did was talk?

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7 Comments Posted in medical education, medical innovation, patient experience, technology
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Behind a Surgeon’s Mask

What does it take to become a surgeon?

What would it be like to be a surgeon, with the power to decide if and when an operation is performed?

What is life like in current times for a general surgeon in private practice approaching middle age, amidst all the changes in health care?

If you’re interested in these questions, you’ll want to read the new memoir by Dr. Paul Ruggieri, a New England surgeon who suffers from a case of cacoethes scribendi (‘writer’s itch’). Fortunately, Dr. Ruggieri’s attempt at a cure for his condition gives us all a window into his life and his thought processes. Previously the author of three surgical texts, this is Ruggieri’s first book for a general audience. He writes clearly and vividly, and has the twin gifts of writing in non-technical language and an ear for dialogue, both internal and external.

His book is as much about his conversations with himself, his doubts, and his surgical tools as it is dialogue with patients, their families and nurses.

Ruggieri calls his book a “love letter” to his patients. In many ways, the narrative is a mea culpa: he expresses guilt over mistakes that he’s made, doubts about his abilities and his motivation, and outright anger over the worsening state of practicing surgery in America.

He saves his deadliest venom for what he views as absurd mandated policies (usually regarding superflous documentation in the name of safety) that infringe on his right to practice his craft and provide neither greater safety nor better outcomes. His chapter “Thoughts on Death and Lawsuits” provides candid insight into the culture of fear that pervades medical practice in the U.S.

Ruggieri comes across as a ‘typical’ surgeon. He admits that he doesn’t like to be a team player. He takes full responsibility for his actions. He has a militaristic style; he demands accountability from those that serve under him (Ruggieri served three years in the Army). He has a temper, and he prefers single malt whiskey. Besides his work, that’s one of the few personal details we learn about him.

No one ever said surgery isn’t all-consuming. But I would have liked to learn more about Dr. Ruggieri’s life outside the hospital.

Maybe that’s the point.

If you’re interested in an excerpt, the Wall Street Journal ran a piece in its Weekend edition.

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1 Comment Posted in books, narrative
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Xmas Spirit….or Bah! Humbug?

Are you a yoda or a grinch?

You’re in your 30s. You work hard. You strive to master your craft. You support your extended family. You are liked by both your co-workers and boss.

Problem: You unexpectedly become unhealthy–you find out your kidneys are failing.

Solution: Regular kidney dialysis can keep you alive, by filtering toxins out of your blood.

Problem: Dialysis is time consuming (>3 hours/session, 3 sessions/week) and leaves you feeling tired and weak.

Solution: Your brother, who is a tissue match, offers you the gift of a lifetime–one of his kidneys.

Problem: Because you don’t have health insurance (you are covered under the Medicaid program for your ‘emergency’ dialysis only) you are deemed ineligible for the transplant surgery.

Fact: The estimated cost of dialysis is $75,000 per year. The cost of the transplant surgery and care is $100,000, with an additional $10,000/year in anti-rejection medication costs.

Fact: Research shows that transplant pays for itself vs. the cost of dialysis at four years. Beyond that point, transplant is a tremendous cost saver overall. Patients feel better and live longer with transplant, too.

Solution: Surgeons at a medical center agree to waive their fees to perform the transplant.

Problem: The hospital still won’t allow the transplant to go forward.

Solution: Your kind boss offers to pitch in for health insurance.

Problem: You are denied because your kidney disease is a ‘pre-existing’ condition.

Solution: Raise $200,000 to pay the hospital up front for the cost of the operation and any potential complications.

Any readers out there willing to step up?

You can read the full story of this patient’s plight here. Pay attention to the comments below the article to see the extremes of opinion.

The patient in question is an undocumented immigrant. His children were born here and are citizens. He meaningfully contributes to the community.

But because of his status, he’s out of luck in the sweepstakes world of health care.

I welcome your opinions on how this situation should be handled. Comment on the post or send an email.

Happy Holidays. Thanks for reading and sharing GlassHospital.

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