Business of Medicine

Hypochondria has been useful to my patients. I mean my own hypochondria. It may not take one to know one, but we hypochondriacs understand each other.

Hypochondriacs worry that we are sick, worry that our fears are foolish and that we will be mocked for worrying about nothing, and worry even more that this time, we finally worried about something after all. Reassurance leaves us sheepish, then elated. Elation soon fades, and a new worry appears. Worry, rinse, repeat. Hypochondriasis presents one kind of patient need that doctors have to deal with. Patients have many needs, some common, others all their own. Some folks are just needy. Soothing the needs of the needy can feel like trying to drain the seven seas with a teaspoon. Those who work with people must either find ways to cope with the spectrum of neediness, or find another kind of work to do.

Some patient needs call for diagnosis and treatment. Other needs go beyond the strictly medical. Beyond knowing whether they are ill, patients have questions like, “Will this get worse?” “Will I be ashamed to go out in public?” “Can I visit my grandchildren, or will my daughter-in-law throw me out as contagious?” “Is this the beginning of the end?” or, worst of all, “Am I losing my hair?”

The list of possible patient needs is long, though not endless. Lining them up one after the other can make them sound melodramatic, even silly. (Other people’s worries often sound silly; your own never do.) Can a small growth or slight itch really cause existential agitation? Anyone who deals with complaints like these knows that the answer is yes.

Hypochondriacs with medical degrees cannot reassure themselves, but we can bring useful experience to help other members of the worry club. Doing so means paying attention not just to what doctors worry about but what patients do.

Sometimes a patient is terrified, the doctor not at all. Gentle sympathy may be enough. But the reverse can also be true: The doctor is concerned, but the patient thinks there is no problem. Sometimes I am worried enough to ask a patient to call or email an update. Patients who have already stopped worrying may not bother to answer the phone or shoot back an email. Failure to respond may mean they are fine, or in intensive care. Silence is hard to interpret.

Skin doctors have one advantageous disadvantage: Few tests help us beyond a skin scraping, the odd blood test, or a biopsy. Otherwise, most of the time all we can do is look, and perhaps apply “tincture of time,” watching the clinical course. We cannot send patients for the complex and expensive tests our colleagues use “just to be sure,” because we have no such tests to send them for.

Practice and experience help us recognize needs and worries that patients might not express. For instance, a man may show up with pimples on his back. His concerns seem intense. “What worries you?” we ask. The patient whispers, “It couldn’t be ... shingles, could it?” No, it couldn’t be shingles, because it is bilateral and for many other reasons.

The question is not whether he has shingles but why he thinks he does. Maybe his aunt suggested it. Or an article told him to watch out for it. Or his pharmacy is promoting zoster vaccination by showing huge, full-color photos of shingles cases worthy of horror movies. (Shingles the 13th!) Because he wants to visit his grandkids and his daughter is in her fourth month of pregnancy. In other words, along with the fear of cancer, fear of shingles is just out there. There are other such public concerns. Over time, we come to recognize them.

Anyone can worry, but anxiety paralyzes some to such an extent that referral to a mental health professional seems reasonable. The problem with advising it is that patients who somaticize may take exception to suggestions, however delicately put, that make us sound dismissive, locating their concern “all in the head.” Over the years, my attempts to make such referrals have met with limited success.

Dealing with needs – and neediness – can take up more of a doctor’s day than making specific diagnoses and prescribing helpful treatments. Besides, addressing needs and neediness demands skills not always stressed at school.

Practice at noting neediness makes you better at it, but no doctor nails the true wellsprings of worry all the time. We hypochondriacs can be devilishly inventive.


Dr. Rockoff, who wrote the Dermatology News column “Under My Skin,” is now semiretired, after 40 years of practice in Brookline, Mass. He served on the clinical faculty at Tufts University, Boston, and taught senior medical students and other trainees for 30 years. His latest book, “Doctoring from the Outside In,” was recently published. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

Hypochondria has been useful to my patients. I mean my own hypochondria. It may not take one to know one, but we hypochondriacs understand each other.

Hypochondriacs worry that we are sick, worry that our fears are foolish and that we will be mocked for worrying about nothing, and worry even more that this time, we finally worried about something after all. Reassurance leaves us sheepish, then elated. Elation soon fades, and a new worry appears. Worry, rinse, repeat. Hypochondriasis presents one kind of patient need that doctors have to deal with. Patients have many needs, some common, others all their own. Some folks are just needy. Soothing the needs of the needy can feel like trying to drain the seven seas with a teaspoon. Those who work with people must either find ways to cope with the spectrum of neediness, or find another kind of work to do.

Some patient needs call for diagnosis and treatment. Other needs go beyond the strictly medical. Beyond knowing whether they are ill, patients have questions like, “Will this get worse?” “Will I be ashamed to go out in public?” “Can I visit my grandchildren, or will my daughter-in-law throw me out as contagious?” “Is this the beginning of the end?” or, worst of all, “Am I losing my hair?”

The list of possible patient needs is long, though not endless. Lining them up one after the other can make them sound melodramatic, even silly. (Other people’s worries often sound silly; your own never do.) Can a small growth or slight itch really cause existential agitation? Anyone who deals with complaints like these knows that the answer is yes.

Hypochondriacs with medical degrees cannot reassure themselves, but we can bring useful experience to help other members of the worry club. Doing so means paying attention not just to what doctors worry about but what patients do.

Sometimes a patient is terrified, the doctor not at all. Gentle sympathy may be enough. But the reverse can also be true: The doctor is concerned, but the patient thinks there is no problem. Sometimes I am worried enough to ask a patient to call or email an update. Patients who have already stopped worrying may not bother to answer the phone or shoot back an email. Failure to respond may mean they are fine, or in intensive care. Silence is hard to interpret.

Skin doctors have one advantageous disadvantage: Few tests help us beyond a skin scraping, the odd blood test, or a biopsy. Otherwise, most of the time all we can do is look, and perhaps apply “tincture of time,” watching the clinical course. We cannot send patients for the complex and expensive tests our colleagues use “just to be sure,” because we have no such tests to send them for.

Practice and experience help us recognize needs and worries that patients might not express. For instance, a man may show up with pimples on his back. His concerns seem intense. “What worries you?” we ask. The patient whispers, “It couldn’t be ... shingles, could it?” No, it couldn’t be shingles, because it is bilateral and for many other reasons.

The question is not whether he has shingles but why he thinks he does. Maybe his aunt suggested it. Or an article told him to watch out for it. Or his pharmacy is promoting zoster vaccination by showing huge, full-color photos of shingles cases worthy of horror movies. (Shingles the 13th!) Because he wants to visit his grandkids and his daughter is in her fourth month of pregnancy. In other words, along with the fear of cancer, fear of shingles is just out there. There are other such public concerns. Over time, we come to recognize them.

Anyone can worry, but anxiety paralyzes some to such an extent that referral to a mental health professional seems reasonable. The problem with advising it is that patients who somaticize may take exception to suggestions, however delicately put, that make us sound dismissive, locating their concern “all in the head.” Over the years, my attempts to make such referrals have met with limited success.

Dealing with needs – and neediness – can take up more of a doctor’s day than making specific diagnoses and prescribing helpful treatments. Besides, addressing needs and neediness demands skills not always stressed at school.

Practice at noting neediness makes you better at it, but no doctor nails the true wellsprings of worry all the time. We hypochondriacs can be devilishly inventive.


Dr. Rockoff, who wrote the Dermatology News column “Under My Skin,” is now semiretired, after 40 years of practice in Brookline, Mass. He served on the clinical faculty at Tufts University, Boston, and taught senior medical students and other trainees for 30 years. His latest book, “Doctoring from the Outside In,” was recently published. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

Hypochondria has been useful to my patients. I mean my own hypochondria. It may not take one to know one, but we hypochondriacs understand each other.

Hypochondriacs worry that we are sick, worry that our fears are foolish and that we will be mocked for worrying about nothing, and worry even more that this time, we finally worried about something after all. Reassurance leaves us sheepish, then elated. Elation soon fades, and a new worry appears. Worry, rinse, repeat. Hypochondriasis presents one kind of patient need that doctors have to deal with. Patients have many needs, some common, others all their own. Some folks are just needy. Soothing the needs of the needy can feel like trying to drain the seven seas with a teaspoon. Those who work with people must either find ways to cope with the spectrum of neediness, or find another kind of work to do.

Some patient needs call for diagnosis and treatment. Other needs go beyond the strictly medical. Beyond knowing whether they are ill, patients have questions like, “Will this get worse?” “Will I be ashamed to go out in public?” “Can I visit my grandchildren, or will my daughter-in-law throw me out as contagious?” “Is this the beginning of the end?” or, worst of all, “Am I losing my hair?”

The list of possible patient needs is long, though not endless. Lining them up one after the other can make them sound melodramatic, even silly. (Other people’s worries often sound silly; your own never do.) Can a small growth or slight itch really cause existential agitation? Anyone who deals with complaints like these knows that the answer is yes.

Hypochondriacs with medical degrees cannot reassure themselves, but we can bring useful experience to help other members of the worry club. Doing so means paying attention not just to what doctors worry about but what patients do.

Sometimes a patient is terrified, the doctor not at all. Gentle sympathy may be enough. But the reverse can also be true: The doctor is concerned, but the patient thinks there is no problem. Sometimes I am worried enough to ask a patient to call or email an update. Patients who have already stopped worrying may not bother to answer the phone or shoot back an email. Failure to respond may mean they are fine, or in intensive care. Silence is hard to interpret.

Skin doctors have one advantageous disadvantage: Few tests help us beyond a skin scraping, the odd blood test, or a biopsy. Otherwise, most of the time all we can do is look, and perhaps apply “tincture of time,” watching the clinical course. We cannot send patients for the complex and expensive tests our colleagues use “just to be sure,” because we have no such tests to send them for.

Practice and experience help us recognize needs and worries that patients might not express. For instance, a man may show up with pimples on his back. His concerns seem intense. “What worries you?” we ask. The patient whispers, “It couldn’t be ... shingles, could it?” No, it couldn’t be shingles, because it is bilateral and for many other reasons.

The question is not whether he has shingles but why he thinks he does. Maybe his aunt suggested it. Or an article told him to watch out for it. Or his pharmacy is promoting zoster vaccination by showing huge, full-color photos of shingles cases worthy of horror movies. (Shingles the 13th!) Because he wants to visit his grandkids and his daughter is in her fourth month of pregnancy. In other words, along with the fear of cancer, fear of shingles is just out there. There are other such public concerns. Over time, we come to recognize them.

Anyone can worry, but anxiety paralyzes some to such an extent that referral to a mental health professional seems reasonable. The problem with advising it is that patients who somaticize may take exception to suggestions, however delicately put, that make us sound dismissive, locating their concern “all in the head.” Over the years, my attempts to make such referrals have met with limited success.

Dealing with needs – and neediness – can take up more of a doctor’s day than making specific diagnoses and prescribing helpful treatments. Besides, addressing needs and neediness demands skills not always stressed at school.

Practice at noting neediness makes you better at it, but no doctor nails the true wellsprings of worry all the time. We hypochondriacs can be devilishly inventive.


Dr. Rockoff, who wrote the Dermatology News column “Under My Skin,” is now semiretired, after 40 years of practice in Brookline, Mass. He served on the clinical faculty at Tufts University, Boston, and taught senior medical students and other trainees for 30 years. His latest book, “Doctoring from the Outside In,” was recently published. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.

“What’s my number?” When I hear this from my financial planning clients, I know they mean: “What investment net worth do I need to be financially independent and make practicing medicine optional?” In my 20-year career, this “magic number” is by far the most common thing physicians want to know.

Wiroj Sidhisoradej/EyeEm/Getty Images

If you look online, articles may recommend having a portfolio valued at $2 million, $5 million, and not uncommonly $10 million or more to retire. Really? $10 million? You might be thinking that surely not everyone needs that amount. Luckily, that’s true.

There’s no magic number your portfolio should be – just your number.

It’s human nature to want a simple, clear target to shoot for. But unfortunately, there’s no generic answer when it comes to saving for retirement. Even after a comprehensive hour-long review of a client’s financial plan – including insurance, investments, estate planning, and other items – the most honest answer I can give is: “It depends.” Not satisfying, I know. But there are still too many holes to fill.

By far the most important factor in getting beyond “it depends” is having an accurate estimate of annual retirement expenses. I have clients who live comfortably on $50,000 a year in retirement and others who need $250,000 or more. Knowing how much you need – your personal number – depends on the individual’s unique dream for retirement and calculating what that dream will cost.

Form a guesstimate based on savings and anticipated expenses

The total portfolio value needed to sustain an annual expense of $50,000 a year in retirement spending versus the portfolio size needed for $250,000 or more, blows apart the fiction of a universal “magic number.” It’s just not that simple. While it’s hard to gauge exactly what you will need, the right information can lead to a logical guesstimate about what size portfolio will provide you with financial independence.

In the end, it’s up to you to determine your desired retirement lifestyle. Then, the only way to get there is to calculate how much it will cost and save up for it by following a well-informed financial plan. This plan will be based on strategy that shifts from the middle to the later stages of your medical career and into retirement.

Let’s see how it works.
 

Early to mid-career: Focus on building up retirement savings

We ultimately want to save enough to meet our retirement expenses. But figuring out how much to save when you’re in your 40s and 50s is difficult. A mid-career physician likely has significant family- and child-related expenses. When we become empty-nesters, those expenses will decline. In retirement they may disappear entirely, but new expenses may arise.

With large variations in expenses at different life stages, it’s hard to calculate exactly how much you will need to save. Early on, the most sensible thing is putting aside a “reasonable” percentage of gross income for retirement savings.

What is a ‘reasonable’ savings goal for retirement?

As is often the case with high-income earners, many of our clients don’t have a budget or a clear picture of their current expenses and spending habits. That’s alright as long as they are building up a reasonable nest egg for the future – which begs the question of what is reasonable.

For mid-career docs, a reasonable goal to aim for is putting aside 20% of gross income for retirement. What you spend the rest of your money on is less important than how much you’re saving.

This is quite different from how you’ll handle expenses during retirement, when you no longer have a steady stream of income; rather, you have a pot of money that needs to last you another 20, 30, or even 40 years. At that point, thinking about specific expenses becomes more important (more on this topic later). That said, if you’re a mid-career doctor who is not meeting this 20% savings goal, it’s time to make a plan that will free up cash for retirement savings and investments.
 

Later-career docs: Calculate your spending level in retirement

Financial success means having a portfolio that can support your retirement dreams – with the confidence that your money will last and you won’t need to watch every dollar you spend. As you near retirement, your focus will shift away from accumulating savings to calculating the annual expenses you will have to meet in retirement.

A good place to start is figuring out which expenses will be necessary and which will be more flexible. To do this, separate your anticipated spending into these two categories:

• Fixed expenses: You can confidently forecast your “must-have” fixed expenses – such as property taxes, property/casualty insurance, health care costs, utilities, and groceries – because they remain steady from month to month.
• Discretionary expenses: These “like-to-have” expenses vary from month to month. This makes them harder to predict but easier to control. They might include dining out, travel, and charitable contributions.

As a retiree, understanding your fixed and discretionary expenses can help you prepare for a bear market, when the stock market can decline by 20% or more. Your portfolio won’t consist entirely of stocks, so it shouldn’t drop to that degree. Still, it will decline significantly. You may need to cut back on spending for a year or 2 to allow your portfolio to recover, particularly if the portfolio declines early in retirement.

Are you ready for retirement?

During the long bull market preceding the great recession of 2007 and 2009, many physicians retired –only to return to their practices when their portfolio values plummeted. In the exuberance of the moment, many failed to heed the warnings of many economists and got caught flat-footed.

Right now it’s a bull market, but we’re seeing concerning signs, such as an out-of-control housing market and rumblings about inflation and rising consumer costs. Sound familiar? If you hope to retire soon, take the time to objectively look around the corner so you can plan appropriately – whether your goal is to retire completely, stay in practice part-time, or even take on a new opportunity.

In an “it-depends” world, don’t be lured by a fictitious magic number, no matter what comes up when you Google: “When can I retire?” Instead, save early, imagine your dream retirement, and calculate expenses later to see what’s possible.

Dr. Greenwald is a graduate of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, New York. Dr. Greenwald completed his internal medicine residency at the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis. He practiced internal medicine in the Twin Cities for 11 years before making the transition to financial planning for physicians, beginning in 1998.

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

“What’s my number?” When I hear this from my financial planning clients, I know they mean: “What investment net worth do I need to be financially independent and make practicing medicine optional?” In my 20-year career, this “magic number” is by far the most common thing physicians want to know.

Wiroj Sidhisoradej/EyeEm/Getty Images

If you look online, articles may recommend having a portfolio valued at $2 million, $5 million, and not uncommonly $10 million or more to retire. Really? $10 million? You might be thinking that surely not everyone needs that amount. Luckily, that’s true.

There’s no magic number your portfolio should be – just your number.

It’s human nature to want a simple, clear target to shoot for. But unfortunately, there’s no generic answer when it comes to saving for retirement. Even after a comprehensive hour-long review of a client’s financial plan – including insurance, investments, estate planning, and other items – the most honest answer I can give is: “It depends.” Not satisfying, I know. But there are still too many holes to fill.

By far the most important factor in getting beyond “it depends” is having an accurate estimate of annual retirement expenses. I have clients who live comfortably on $50,000 a year in retirement and others who need $250,000 or more. Knowing how much you need – your personal number – depends on the individual’s unique dream for retirement and calculating what that dream will cost.

Form a guesstimate based on savings and anticipated expenses

The total portfolio value needed to sustain an annual expense of $50,000 a year in retirement spending versus the portfolio size needed for $250,000 or more, blows apart the fiction of a universal “magic number.” It’s just not that simple. While it’s hard to gauge exactly what you will need, the right information can lead to a logical guesstimate about what size portfolio will provide you with financial independence.

In the end, it’s up to you to determine your desired retirement lifestyle. Then, the only way to get there is to calculate how much it will cost and save up for it by following a well-informed financial plan. This plan will be based on strategy that shifts from the middle to the later stages of your medical career and into retirement.

Let’s see how it works.
 

Early to mid-career: Focus on building up retirement savings

We ultimately want to save enough to meet our retirement expenses. But figuring out how much to save when you’re in your 40s and 50s is difficult. A mid-career physician likely has significant family- and child-related expenses. When we become empty-nesters, those expenses will decline. In retirement they may disappear entirely, but new expenses may arise.

With large variations in expenses at different life stages, it’s hard to calculate exactly how much you will need to save. Early on, the most sensible thing is putting aside a “reasonable” percentage of gross income for retirement savings.

What is a ‘reasonable’ savings goal for retirement?

As is often the case with high-income earners, many of our clients don’t have a budget or a clear picture of their current expenses and spending habits. That’s alright as long as they are building up a reasonable nest egg for the future – which begs the question of what is reasonable.

For mid-career docs, a reasonable goal to aim for is putting aside 20% of gross income for retirement. What you spend the rest of your money on is less important than how much you’re saving.

This is quite different from how you’ll handle expenses during retirement, when you no longer have a steady stream of income; rather, you have a pot of money that needs to last you another 20, 30, or even 40 years. At that point, thinking about specific expenses becomes more important (more on this topic later). That said, if you’re a mid-career doctor who is not meeting this 20% savings goal, it’s time to make a plan that will free up cash for retirement savings and investments.
 

Later-career docs: Calculate your spending level in retirement

Financial success means having a portfolio that can support your retirement dreams – with the confidence that your money will last and you won’t need to watch every dollar you spend. As you near retirement, your focus will shift away from accumulating savings to calculating the annual expenses you will have to meet in retirement.

A good place to start is figuring out which expenses will be necessary and which will be more flexible. To do this, separate your anticipated spending into these two categories:

• Fixed expenses: You can confidently forecast your “must-have” fixed expenses – such as property taxes, property/casualty insurance, health care costs, utilities, and groceries – because they remain steady from month to month.
• Discretionary expenses: These “like-to-have” expenses vary from month to month. This makes them harder to predict but easier to control. They might include dining out, travel, and charitable contributions.

As a retiree, understanding your fixed and discretionary expenses can help you prepare for a bear market, when the stock market can decline by 20% or more. Your portfolio won’t consist entirely of stocks, so it shouldn’t drop to that degree. Still, it will decline significantly. You may need to cut back on spending for a year or 2 to allow your portfolio to recover, particularly if the portfolio declines early in retirement.

Are you ready for retirement?

During the long bull market preceding the great recession of 2007 and 2009, many physicians retired –only to return to their practices when their portfolio values plummeted. In the exuberance of the moment, many failed to heed the warnings of many economists and got caught flat-footed.

Right now it’s a bull market, but we’re seeing concerning signs, such as an out-of-control housing market and rumblings about inflation and rising consumer costs. Sound familiar? If you hope to retire soon, take the time to objectively look around the corner so you can plan appropriately – whether your goal is to retire completely, stay in practice part-time, or even take on a new opportunity.

In an “it-depends” world, don’t be lured by a fictitious magic number, no matter what comes up when you Google: “When can I retire?” Instead, save early, imagine your dream retirement, and calculate expenses later to see what’s possible.

Dr. Greenwald is a graduate of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, New York. Dr. Greenwald completed his internal medicine residency at the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis. He practiced internal medicine in the Twin Cities for 11 years before making the transition to financial planning for physicians, beginning in 1998.

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

“What’s my number?” When I hear this from my financial planning clients, I know they mean: “What investment net worth do I need to be financially independent and make practicing medicine optional?” In my 20-year career, this “magic number” is by far the most common thing physicians want to know.

Wiroj Sidhisoradej/EyeEm/Getty Images

If you look online, articles may recommend having a portfolio valued at $2 million, $5 million, and not uncommonly $10 million or more to retire. Really? $10 million? You might be thinking that surely not everyone needs that amount. Luckily, that’s true.

There’s no magic number your portfolio should be – just your number.

It’s human nature to want a simple, clear target to shoot for. But unfortunately, there’s no generic answer when it comes to saving for retirement. Even after a comprehensive hour-long review of a client’s financial plan – including insurance, investments, estate planning, and other items – the most honest answer I can give is: “It depends.” Not satisfying, I know. But there are still too many holes to fill.

By far the most important factor in getting beyond “it depends” is having an accurate estimate of annual retirement expenses. I have clients who live comfortably on $50,000 a year in retirement and others who need $250,000 or more. Knowing how much you need – your personal number – depends on the individual’s unique dream for retirement and calculating what that dream will cost.

Form a guesstimate based on savings and anticipated expenses

The total portfolio value needed to sustain an annual expense of $50,000 a year in retirement spending versus the portfolio size needed for $250,000 or more, blows apart the fiction of a universal “magic number.” It’s just not that simple. While it’s hard to gauge exactly what you will need, the right information can lead to a logical guesstimate about what size portfolio will provide you with financial independence.

In the end, it’s up to you to determine your desired retirement lifestyle. Then, the only way to get there is to calculate how much it will cost and save up for it by following a well-informed financial plan. This plan will be based on strategy that shifts from the middle to the later stages of your medical career and into retirement.

Let’s see how it works.
 

Early to mid-career: Focus on building up retirement savings

We ultimately want to save enough to meet our retirement expenses. But figuring out how much to save when you’re in your 40s and 50s is difficult. A mid-career physician likely has significant family- and child-related expenses. When we become empty-nesters, those expenses will decline. In retirement they may disappear entirely, but new expenses may arise.

With large variations in expenses at different life stages, it’s hard to calculate exactly how much you will need to save. Early on, the most sensible thing is putting aside a “reasonable” percentage of gross income for retirement savings.

What is a ‘reasonable’ savings goal for retirement?

As is often the case with high-income earners, many of our clients don’t have a budget or a clear picture of their current expenses and spending habits. That’s alright as long as they are building up a reasonable nest egg for the future – which begs the question of what is reasonable.

For mid-career docs, a reasonable goal to aim for is putting aside 20% of gross income for retirement. What you spend the rest of your money on is less important than how much you’re saving.

This is quite different from how you’ll handle expenses during retirement, when you no longer have a steady stream of income; rather, you have a pot of money that needs to last you another 20, 30, or even 40 years. At that point, thinking about specific expenses becomes more important (more on this topic later). That said, if you’re a mid-career doctor who is not meeting this 20% savings goal, it’s time to make a plan that will free up cash for retirement savings and investments.
 

Later-career docs: Calculate your spending level in retirement

Financial success means having a portfolio that can support your retirement dreams – with the confidence that your money will last and you won’t need to watch every dollar you spend. As you near retirement, your focus will shift away from accumulating savings to calculating the annual expenses you will have to meet in retirement.

A good place to start is figuring out which expenses will be necessary and which will be more flexible. To do this, separate your anticipated spending into these two categories:

• Fixed expenses: You can confidently forecast your “must-have” fixed expenses – such as property taxes, property/casualty insurance, health care costs, utilities, and groceries – because they remain steady from month to month.
• Discretionary expenses: These “like-to-have” expenses vary from month to month. This makes them harder to predict but easier to control. They might include dining out, travel, and charitable contributions.

As a retiree, understanding your fixed and discretionary expenses can help you prepare for a bear market, when the stock market can decline by 20% or more. Your portfolio won’t consist entirely of stocks, so it shouldn’t drop to that degree. Still, it will decline significantly. You may need to cut back on spending for a year or 2 to allow your portfolio to recover, particularly if the portfolio declines early in retirement.

Are you ready for retirement?

During the long bull market preceding the great recession of 2007 and 2009, many physicians retired –only to return to their practices when their portfolio values plummeted. In the exuberance of the moment, many failed to heed the warnings of many economists and got caught flat-footed.

Right now it’s a bull market, but we’re seeing concerning signs, such as an out-of-control housing market and rumblings about inflation and rising consumer costs. Sound familiar? If you hope to retire soon, take the time to objectively look around the corner so you can plan appropriately – whether your goal is to retire completely, stay in practice part-time, or even take on a new opportunity.

In an “it-depends” world, don’t be lured by a fictitious magic number, no matter what comes up when you Google: “When can I retire?” Instead, save early, imagine your dream retirement, and calculate expenses later to see what’s possible.

Dr. Greenwald is a graduate of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, New York. Dr. Greenwald completed his internal medicine residency at the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis. He practiced internal medicine in the Twin Cities for 11 years before making the transition to financial planning for physicians, beginning in 1998.

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

Evaluation of a large insurance claims database has provided some insight into how ICD-10 indoor tanning codes are being used in practice, according to a study presented at the annual meeting of the Society for Investigative Dermatology.

thinkstockphotos.com

“Since indoor tanning ICD-10 codes were only recently universally implemented in 2015, and providers may still be using other codes that cover similar services, we think our data likely underestimate the number of encounters and sequelae associated with indoor tanning,” Alexandria M. Brown, BSA, of Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, said in her presentation. “We think increased usage of these indoor tanning exposure codes in coming years will strengthen this body of indoor tanning literature and data.”

Using insurance claims data on about 43 million patients from Truven Health MarketScan, Ms. Brown and colleagues analyzed patient encounters with ICD-10 indoor tanning codes W89.1, W89.1XXA, W89.1XXD, and W89.1XXS between 2016 and 2018 for about 43 million patients. Overall, there were 4,550 patient encounters where these codes had been recorded, with most (99%) occurring in an outpatient setting. The majority of providers at these encounters were dermatologists (72%). Patients were mostly women (85%); and most were ages 25-34 years (19.4%), 35-44 years (20.6%), 45-54 years (22.7%), and 55-64 years (19%). Almost 5% were 65 and over, 11.7% were ages 18-24, and 1.6% were under age 18.

The use of indoor tanning codes were most common in the Midwest (55 per 100,000 encounters with dermatologists), compared with 16 per 100,000 in the Northeast, 21 per 100,000 in the West, and 28 per 100,000 in the South. CPT codes for “destruction of a premalignant lesion” and “biopsy” were the most frequently used codes entered at visits where indoor tanning codes were also entered, and were present in 15.1% of encounters and 18.4% of encounters, respectively.

“This suggests that many of these encounters may have been for skin cancer surveillance and that indoor tanning exposure may have been coded as part of a patient’s skin cancer risk profile,” Ms. Brown noted.

The study shows how these codes are being used and could help determine health care use patterns for these patients as well as their comorbidities, behaviors, and risk factors, according to the authors, who believe this is the first study to look at the use of ICD-10 indoor tanning codes.

“Any effort to reduce indoor tanning requires knowledge of the population at risk. It has been shown that the ability to recognize and provide counseling to at-risk patients can improve sun protective behaviors and reduce indoor tanning,” Ms. Brown said. Claims databases can be a “valuable tool to better understand patients who have been exposed to indoor tanning and their associated risk factors, comorbidities, behaviors, and health care utilization.”

In an interview, Adam Friedman, MD, professor and chair of dermatology at George Washington University, Washington, said the study was interesting and “provides some guidance with respect to who, when, and where in the U.S. to target educational initiatives on the harms of tanning beds.”

Dr. Friedman, who was not involved with the research, agreed with the authors’ assertion that their study was underestimating the use of indoor tanning beds. “Using a large database provides the means to better generalize one’s dataset; however in this case, it relies on proper coding by the practitioner,” or even using the code for tanning bed use at all.

“There also could be some inherent bias given most of the cases for which the code was used was for skin cancer surveillance, and therefore tanning bed use was top of mind,” he said.

While he believes this study may not be most efficient way of determining demographics of at-risk individuals using tanning beds, Dr. Friedman said the results “should serve as the impetus to develop public health campaigns around this information, following which research can be conducted to evaluate if the intervention had an impact.”

Ms. Brown and Dr. Friedman reported no relevant financial disclosures.

Evaluation of a large insurance claims database has provided some insight into how ICD-10 indoor tanning codes are being used in practice, according to a study presented at the annual meeting of the Society for Investigative Dermatology.

thinkstockphotos.com

“Since indoor tanning ICD-10 codes were only recently universally implemented in 2015, and providers may still be using other codes that cover similar services, we think our data likely underestimate the number of encounters and sequelae associated with indoor tanning,” Alexandria M. Brown, BSA, of Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, said in her presentation. “We think increased usage of these indoor tanning exposure codes in coming years will strengthen this body of indoor tanning literature and data.”

Using insurance claims data on about 43 million patients from Truven Health MarketScan, Ms. Brown and colleagues analyzed patient encounters with ICD-10 indoor tanning codes W89.1, W89.1XXA, W89.1XXD, and W89.1XXS between 2016 and 2018 for about 43 million patients. Overall, there were 4,550 patient encounters where these codes had been recorded, with most (99%) occurring in an outpatient setting. The majority of providers at these encounters were dermatologists (72%). Patients were mostly women (85%); and most were ages 25-34 years (19.4%), 35-44 years (20.6%), 45-54 years (22.7%), and 55-64 years (19%). Almost 5% were 65 and over, 11.7% were ages 18-24, and 1.6% were under age 18.

The use of indoor tanning codes were most common in the Midwest (55 per 100,000 encounters with dermatologists), compared with 16 per 100,000 in the Northeast, 21 per 100,000 in the West, and 28 per 100,000 in the South. CPT codes for “destruction of a premalignant lesion” and “biopsy” were the most frequently used codes entered at visits where indoor tanning codes were also entered, and were present in 15.1% of encounters and 18.4% of encounters, respectively.

“This suggests that many of these encounters may have been for skin cancer surveillance and that indoor tanning exposure may have been coded as part of a patient’s skin cancer risk profile,” Ms. Brown noted.

The study shows how these codes are being used and could help determine health care use patterns for these patients as well as their comorbidities, behaviors, and risk factors, according to the authors, who believe this is the first study to look at the use of ICD-10 indoor tanning codes.

“Any effort to reduce indoor tanning requires knowledge of the population at risk. It has been shown that the ability to recognize and provide counseling to at-risk patients can improve sun protective behaviors and reduce indoor tanning,” Ms. Brown said. Claims databases can be a “valuable tool to better understand patients who have been exposed to indoor tanning and their associated risk factors, comorbidities, behaviors, and health care utilization.”

In an interview, Adam Friedman, MD, professor and chair of dermatology at George Washington University, Washington, said the study was interesting and “provides some guidance with respect to who, when, and where in the U.S. to target educational initiatives on the harms of tanning beds.”

Dr. Friedman, who was not involved with the research, agreed with the authors’ assertion that their study was underestimating the use of indoor tanning beds. “Using a large database provides the means to better generalize one’s dataset; however in this case, it relies on proper coding by the practitioner,” or even using the code for tanning bed use at all.

“There also could be some inherent bias given most of the cases for which the code was used was for skin cancer surveillance, and therefore tanning bed use was top of mind,” he said.

While he believes this study may not be most efficient way of determining demographics of at-risk individuals using tanning beds, Dr. Friedman said the results “should serve as the impetus to develop public health campaigns around this information, following which research can be conducted to evaluate if the intervention had an impact.”

Ms. Brown and Dr. Friedman reported no relevant financial disclosures.

Evaluation of a large insurance claims database has provided some insight into how ICD-10 indoor tanning codes are being used in practice, according to a study presented at the annual meeting of the Society for Investigative Dermatology.

thinkstockphotos.com

“Since indoor tanning ICD-10 codes were only recently universally implemented in 2015, and providers may still be using other codes that cover similar services, we think our data likely underestimate the number of encounters and sequelae associated with indoor tanning,” Alexandria M. Brown, BSA, of Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, said in her presentation. “We think increased usage of these indoor tanning exposure codes in coming years will strengthen this body of indoor tanning literature and data.”

Using insurance claims data on about 43 million patients from Truven Health MarketScan, Ms. Brown and colleagues analyzed patient encounters with ICD-10 indoor tanning codes W89.1, W89.1XXA, W89.1XXD, and W89.1XXS between 2016 and 2018 for about 43 million patients. Overall, there were 4,550 patient encounters where these codes had been recorded, with most (99%) occurring in an outpatient setting. The majority of providers at these encounters were dermatologists (72%). Patients were mostly women (85%); and most were ages 25-34 years (19.4%), 35-44 years (20.6%), 45-54 years (22.7%), and 55-64 years (19%). Almost 5% were 65 and over, 11.7% were ages 18-24, and 1.6% were under age 18.

The use of indoor tanning codes were most common in the Midwest (55 per 100,000 encounters with dermatologists), compared with 16 per 100,000 in the Northeast, 21 per 100,000 in the West, and 28 per 100,000 in the South. CPT codes for “destruction of a premalignant lesion” and “biopsy” were the most frequently used codes entered at visits where indoor tanning codes were also entered, and were present in 15.1% of encounters and 18.4% of encounters, respectively.

“This suggests that many of these encounters may have been for skin cancer surveillance and that indoor tanning exposure may have been coded as part of a patient’s skin cancer risk profile,” Ms. Brown noted.

The study shows how these codes are being used and could help determine health care use patterns for these patients as well as their comorbidities, behaviors, and risk factors, according to the authors, who believe this is the first study to look at the use of ICD-10 indoor tanning codes.

“Any effort to reduce indoor tanning requires knowledge of the population at risk. It has been shown that the ability to recognize and provide counseling to at-risk patients can improve sun protective behaviors and reduce indoor tanning,” Ms. Brown said. Claims databases can be a “valuable tool to better understand patients who have been exposed to indoor tanning and their associated risk factors, comorbidities, behaviors, and health care utilization.”

In an interview, Adam Friedman, MD, professor and chair of dermatology at George Washington University, Washington, said the study was interesting and “provides some guidance with respect to who, when, and where in the U.S. to target educational initiatives on the harms of tanning beds.”

Dr. Friedman, who was not involved with the research, agreed with the authors’ assertion that their study was underestimating the use of indoor tanning beds. “Using a large database provides the means to better generalize one’s dataset; however in this case, it relies on proper coding by the practitioner,” or even using the code for tanning bed use at all.

“There also could be some inherent bias given most of the cases for which the code was used was for skin cancer surveillance, and therefore tanning bed use was top of mind,” he said.

While he believes this study may not be most efficient way of determining demographics of at-risk individuals using tanning beds, Dr. Friedman said the results “should serve as the impetus to develop public health campaigns around this information, following which research can be conducted to evaluate if the intervention had an impact.”

Ms. Brown and Dr. Friedman reported no relevant financial disclosures.

The hashtag #BigHoopEnergy has sparked an online conversation about how women of color in the medical field are pressured to conform to traditional standards of professional appearance.

It started when a Latina doctor tweeted that she lost points on a practical exam in medical school because of her hoop earrings, with the evaluator writing “earrings, unprofessional.”

That led other female doctors to cite their own experiences, reported The Lily, a Washington Post publication aimed at millennial women. Many women posted photos of themselves wearing hoops, which have long been associated with Latina and African American women, the outlet said.

“There’s a big movement to police women of color and how they present themselves in medical spaces,” said Briana Christophers, an MD-PhD student at the Tri-Institutional MD-PhD Program in New York. “I think in part it’s a way of trying to make people who don’t usually fit the mold, fit the mold.”

Ms. Christophers, who identifies as Latina, said she was urged to wear a black or navy suit when interviewing for doctorate programs. She wore a black suit with a lavender blouse and received comments about that – some positive, some not, she said.

“Sometimes you don’t know how to interpret those sorts of comments,” Ms. Christophers said. “Do you remember because you like the shirt, or because you don’t think I should have done that?”

Doctors of color still stand out in American medicine. The Lily cited the Association of American Medical Colleges as saying that in 2018, Hispanics made up 5.8% of active American doctors and African Americans made up 5%.

Studies show that medical professionals of color often don’t receive the same respect as their White counterparts, with some people questioning whether they’re actually doctors.

“At work, wearing my white coat that has my name pretty big on it with a badge that says doctor on it, I still get asked if I’m the environmental services staff,” Alexandra Sims, MD, a pediatrician in Cincinnati, told The Lily. “I think it just demonstrates how deeply ingrained bias, racism, and sexism are in society and that we have a lot of work to do to disrupt that.”

Dr. Sims said the tweet about hoop earrings led her to wonder about daily decisions she makes about dress.

“Am I too much? Is this too much? Is this earring too big? Is this nail polish color too loud? And how will that be received at work?” she said, noting that she may opt not to wear hoops in certain situations, such as when she’s dealing with a grabby baby.

Monica Verduzco-Gutierrez, MD, professor and chair of the department of rehabilitation medicine at University of Texas Health, San Antonio, said doctors should be judged on the care they provide, not their appearance.

“Judging someone based on their earrings or their jumpsuit or whatever else that they’re noticing about the student is not an appropriate way to judge the student’s ability to take care of a patient,” Dr. Verduzco-Gutierrez said, noting that she was not speaking on behalf of the school.
 

A version of this article was first published on WebMD.com .

The hashtag #BigHoopEnergy has sparked an online conversation about how women of color in the medical field are pressured to conform to traditional standards of professional appearance.

It started when a Latina doctor tweeted that she lost points on a practical exam in medical school because of her hoop earrings, with the evaluator writing “earrings, unprofessional.”

That led other female doctors to cite their own experiences, reported The Lily, a Washington Post publication aimed at millennial women. Many women posted photos of themselves wearing hoops, which have long been associated with Latina and African American women, the outlet said.

“There’s a big movement to police women of color and how they present themselves in medical spaces,” said Briana Christophers, an MD-PhD student at the Tri-Institutional MD-PhD Program in New York. “I think in part it’s a way of trying to make people who don’t usually fit the mold, fit the mold.”

Ms. Christophers, who identifies as Latina, said she was urged to wear a black or navy suit when interviewing for doctorate programs. She wore a black suit with a lavender blouse and received comments about that – some positive, some not, she said.

“Sometimes you don’t know how to interpret those sorts of comments,” Ms. Christophers said. “Do you remember because you like the shirt, or because you don’t think I should have done that?”

Doctors of color still stand out in American medicine. The Lily cited the Association of American Medical Colleges as saying that in 2018, Hispanics made up 5.8% of active American doctors and African Americans made up 5%.

Studies show that medical professionals of color often don’t receive the same respect as their White counterparts, with some people questioning whether they’re actually doctors.

“At work, wearing my white coat that has my name pretty big on it with a badge that says doctor on it, I still get asked if I’m the environmental services staff,” Alexandra Sims, MD, a pediatrician in Cincinnati, told The Lily. “I think it just demonstrates how deeply ingrained bias, racism, and sexism are in society and that we have a lot of work to do to disrupt that.”

Dr. Sims said the tweet about hoop earrings led her to wonder about daily decisions she makes about dress.

“Am I too much? Is this too much? Is this earring too big? Is this nail polish color too loud? And how will that be received at work?” she said, noting that she may opt not to wear hoops in certain situations, such as when she’s dealing with a grabby baby.

Monica Verduzco-Gutierrez, MD, professor and chair of the department of rehabilitation medicine at University of Texas Health, San Antonio, said doctors should be judged on the care they provide, not their appearance.

“Judging someone based on their earrings or their jumpsuit or whatever else that they’re noticing about the student is not an appropriate way to judge the student’s ability to take care of a patient,” Dr. Verduzco-Gutierrez said, noting that she was not speaking on behalf of the school.
 

A version of this article was first published on WebMD.com .

The hashtag #BigHoopEnergy has sparked an online conversation about how women of color in the medical field are pressured to conform to traditional standards of professional appearance.

It started when a Latina doctor tweeted that she lost points on a practical exam in medical school because of her hoop earrings, with the evaluator writing “earrings, unprofessional.”

That led other female doctors to cite their own experiences, reported The Lily, a Washington Post publication aimed at millennial women. Many women posted photos of themselves wearing hoops, which have long been associated with Latina and African American women, the outlet said.

“There’s a big movement to police women of color and how they present themselves in medical spaces,” said Briana Christophers, an MD-PhD student at the Tri-Institutional MD-PhD Program in New York. “I think in part it’s a way of trying to make people who don’t usually fit the mold, fit the mold.”

Ms. Christophers, who identifies as Latina, said she was urged to wear a black or navy suit when interviewing for doctorate programs. She wore a black suit with a lavender blouse and received comments about that – some positive, some not, she said.

“Sometimes you don’t know how to interpret those sorts of comments,” Ms. Christophers said. “Do you remember because you like the shirt, or because you don’t think I should have done that?”

Doctors of color still stand out in American medicine. The Lily cited the Association of American Medical Colleges as saying that in 2018, Hispanics made up 5.8% of active American doctors and African Americans made up 5%.

Studies show that medical professionals of color often don’t receive the same respect as their White counterparts, with some people questioning whether they’re actually doctors.

“At work, wearing my white coat that has my name pretty big on it with a badge that says doctor on it, I still get asked if I’m the environmental services staff,” Alexandra Sims, MD, a pediatrician in Cincinnati, told The Lily. “I think it just demonstrates how deeply ingrained bias, racism, and sexism are in society and that we have a lot of work to do to disrupt that.”

Dr. Sims said the tweet about hoop earrings led her to wonder about daily decisions she makes about dress.

“Am I too much? Is this too much? Is this earring too big? Is this nail polish color too loud? And how will that be received at work?” she said, noting that she may opt not to wear hoops in certain situations, such as when she’s dealing with a grabby baby.

Monica Verduzco-Gutierrez, MD, professor and chair of the department of rehabilitation medicine at University of Texas Health, San Antonio, said doctors should be judged on the care they provide, not their appearance.

“Judging someone based on their earrings or their jumpsuit or whatever else that they’re noticing about the student is not an appropriate way to judge the student’s ability to take care of a patient,” Dr. Verduzco-Gutierrez said, noting that she was not speaking on behalf of the school.
 

A version of this article was first published on WebMD.com .

Breast and cervical cancer screenings declined sharply in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly among certain racial and ethnic minority groups and rural populations, notes the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

The new data come from the National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program (NBCCEDP), a program that provides cancer screening services to women with low income and inadequate health insurance.

The data show that the total number of screenings funded by the NBCCEDP declined by 87% for breast cancer screening and by 84% for cervical cancer screening in April 2020 in comparison with the previous 5-year averages for that month.

The declines in breast cancer screening varied from 84% among Hispanic women to 98% among American Indian/Alaskan Native women. The declines in cervical cancer screening varied from 82% among Black women to 92% among Asian Pacific Islander women.

In April 2020, breast cancer screening declined by 86% in metro areas, 88% in urban areas, and 89% in rural areas in comparison with respective 5-year averages. For cervical cancer screenings, the corresponding declines were 85%, 77%, and 82%.

The findings are consistent with those from studies conducted in insured populations, note the authors, led by the Amy DeGroff, PhD, MPH, of the CDC’s National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion.

“Prolonged delays in screening related to the COVID-19 pandemic may lead to delayed diagnoses, poor health consequences, and an increase in cancer disparities among women already experiencing health inequities,” the CDC states in a press release.

Women from racial and ethnic minority groups already face a disproportionate burden of cervical and breast cancers in the United States: Black women and Hispanic women have the highest rates of cervical cancer incidence (8.3 and 8.9 per 100,000 women, respectively, vs. 7.3 per 100,000 among White women) and the highest rates of cervical cancer deaths. Black women have the highest rate of breast cancer death (26.9 per 100,000 women, vs. 19.4 per 100,000 among White women), the study authors explain.

Although the volume of screening began to recover in May 2020 – test volumes for breast and cervical cancer were 39% and 40% below the 5-year average by June 2020 – breast cancer screening in rural areas remained 52% below the 5-year average, they report.

The findings were published online June 30 in Preventive Medicine.

“This study highlights a decline in cancer screening among women of racial and ethnic minority groups with low incomes when their access to medical services decreased at the beginning of the pandemic,” Dr. DeGroff comments in the CDC press release.

The findings “reinforce the need to safely maintain routine health care services during the pandemic, especially when the health care environment meets COVID-19 safety guidelines,” she adds.

The investigators used NBCCEDP administrative and program data reported to the CDC by awardees – organizations that receive funding to implement the NBCCEDP – to assess the impact of COVID-19 on the number of breast and cervical cancer screening tests administered through the program and the effects of COVID-19 on the availability of screening services and NBCCEDP awardees’ capacity to support partner clinics.

A total of 630,264 breast and 594,566 cervical cancer screening tests were conducted during the review period of January-June 2015-2020.

Despite COVID-related challenges, “a large number of awardees reported flexibility and creative efforts to reach women and support clinics’ resumption of clinical care, including screening, during the COVID-19 pandemic,” the authors write.

“[The] CDC encourages health care professionals to help minimize delays in testing by continuing routine cancer screening for women having symptoms or at high risk for breast or cervical cancer,” Dr. DeGroff commented. “The Early Detection Program can help women overcome barriers to health equity by educating them about the importance of routine screening, addressing their concerns about COVID-19 transmission, and helping them to safely access screening through interventions like patient navigation.”

Future studies will examine the effect of the pandemic on screening during the second half of 2020, when surges of COVID-19 and their timing varied geographically, they note.

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

Breast and cervical cancer screenings declined sharply in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly among certain racial and ethnic minority groups and rural populations, notes the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

The new data come from the National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program (NBCCEDP), a program that provides cancer screening services to women with low income and inadequate health insurance.

The data show that the total number of screenings funded by the NBCCEDP declined by 87% for breast cancer screening and by 84% for cervical cancer screening in April 2020 in comparison with the previous 5-year averages for that month.

The declines in breast cancer screening varied from 84% among Hispanic women to 98% among American Indian/Alaskan Native women. The declines in cervical cancer screening varied from 82% among Black women to 92% among Asian Pacific Islander women.

In April 2020, breast cancer screening declined by 86% in metro areas, 88% in urban areas, and 89% in rural areas in comparison with respective 5-year averages. For cervical cancer screenings, the corresponding declines were 85%, 77%, and 82%.

The findings are consistent with those from studies conducted in insured populations, note the authors, led by the Amy DeGroff, PhD, MPH, of the CDC’s National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion.

“Prolonged delays in screening related to the COVID-19 pandemic may lead to delayed diagnoses, poor health consequences, and an increase in cancer disparities among women already experiencing health inequities,” the CDC states in a press release.

Women from racial and ethnic minority groups already face a disproportionate burden of cervical and breast cancers in the United States: Black women and Hispanic women have the highest rates of cervical cancer incidence (8.3 and 8.9 per 100,000 women, respectively, vs. 7.3 per 100,000 among White women) and the highest rates of cervical cancer deaths. Black women have the highest rate of breast cancer death (26.9 per 100,000 women, vs. 19.4 per 100,000 among White women), the study authors explain.

Although the volume of screening began to recover in May 2020 – test volumes for breast and cervical cancer were 39% and 40% below the 5-year average by June 2020 – breast cancer screening in rural areas remained 52% below the 5-year average, they report.

The findings were published online June 30 in Preventive Medicine.

“This study highlights a decline in cancer screening among women of racial and ethnic minority groups with low incomes when their access to medical services decreased at the beginning of the pandemic,” Dr. DeGroff comments in the CDC press release.

The findings “reinforce the need to safely maintain routine health care services during the pandemic, especially when the health care environment meets COVID-19 safety guidelines,” she adds.

The investigators used NBCCEDP administrative and program data reported to the CDC by awardees – organizations that receive funding to implement the NBCCEDP – to assess the impact of COVID-19 on the number of breast and cervical cancer screening tests administered through the program and the effects of COVID-19 on the availability of screening services and NBCCEDP awardees’ capacity to support partner clinics.

A total of 630,264 breast and 594,566 cervical cancer screening tests were conducted during the review period of January-June 2015-2020.

Despite COVID-related challenges, “a large number of awardees reported flexibility and creative efforts to reach women and support clinics’ resumption of clinical care, including screening, during the COVID-19 pandemic,” the authors write.

“[The] CDC encourages health care professionals to help minimize delays in testing by continuing routine cancer screening for women having symptoms or at high risk for breast or cervical cancer,” Dr. DeGroff commented. “The Early Detection Program can help women overcome barriers to health equity by educating them about the importance of routine screening, addressing their concerns about COVID-19 transmission, and helping them to safely access screening through interventions like patient navigation.”

Future studies will examine the effect of the pandemic on screening during the second half of 2020, when surges of COVID-19 and their timing varied geographically, they note.

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

Breast and cervical cancer screenings declined sharply in the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly among certain racial and ethnic minority groups and rural populations, notes the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

The new data come from the National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program (NBCCEDP), a program that provides cancer screening services to women with low income and inadequate health insurance.

The data show that the total number of screenings funded by the NBCCEDP declined by 87% for breast cancer screening and by 84% for cervical cancer screening in April 2020 in comparison with the previous 5-year averages for that month.

The declines in breast cancer screening varied from 84% among Hispanic women to 98% among American Indian/Alaskan Native women. The declines in cervical cancer screening varied from 82% among Black women to 92% among Asian Pacific Islander women.

In April 2020, breast cancer screening declined by 86% in metro areas, 88% in urban areas, and 89% in rural areas in comparison with respective 5-year averages. For cervical cancer screenings, the corresponding declines were 85%, 77%, and 82%.

The findings are consistent with those from studies conducted in insured populations, note the authors, led by the Amy DeGroff, PhD, MPH, of the CDC’s National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion.

“Prolonged delays in screening related to the COVID-19 pandemic may lead to delayed diagnoses, poor health consequences, and an increase in cancer disparities among women already experiencing health inequities,” the CDC states in a press release.

Women from racial and ethnic minority groups already face a disproportionate burden of cervical and breast cancers in the United States: Black women and Hispanic women have the highest rates of cervical cancer incidence (8.3 and 8.9 per 100,000 women, respectively, vs. 7.3 per 100,000 among White women) and the highest rates of cervical cancer deaths. Black women have the highest rate of breast cancer death (26.9 per 100,000 women, vs. 19.4 per 100,000 among White women), the study authors explain.

Although the volume of screening began to recover in May 2020 – test volumes for breast and cervical cancer were 39% and 40% below the 5-year average by June 2020 – breast cancer screening in rural areas remained 52% below the 5-year average, they report.

The findings were published online June 30 in Preventive Medicine.

“This study highlights a decline in cancer screening among women of racial and ethnic minority groups with low incomes when their access to medical services decreased at the beginning of the pandemic,” Dr. DeGroff comments in the CDC press release.

The findings “reinforce the need to safely maintain routine health care services during the pandemic, especially when the health care environment meets COVID-19 safety guidelines,” she adds.

The investigators used NBCCEDP administrative and program data reported to the CDC by awardees – organizations that receive funding to implement the NBCCEDP – to assess the impact of COVID-19 on the number of breast and cervical cancer screening tests administered through the program and the effects of COVID-19 on the availability of screening services and NBCCEDP awardees’ capacity to support partner clinics.

A total of 630,264 breast and 594,566 cervical cancer screening tests were conducted during the review period of January-June 2015-2020.

Despite COVID-related challenges, “a large number of awardees reported flexibility and creative efforts to reach women and support clinics’ resumption of clinical care, including screening, during the COVID-19 pandemic,” the authors write.

“[The] CDC encourages health care professionals to help minimize delays in testing by continuing routine cancer screening for women having symptoms or at high risk for breast or cervical cancer,” Dr. DeGroff commented. “The Early Detection Program can help women overcome barriers to health equity by educating them about the importance of routine screening, addressing their concerns about COVID-19 transmission, and helping them to safely access screening through interventions like patient navigation.”

Future studies will examine the effect of the pandemic on screening during the second half of 2020, when surges of COVID-19 and their timing varied geographically, they note.

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

Fidaa Wishah, MD, a pediatric radiologist at Phoenix Children’s Hospital in Arizona, has been fired after the hospital reviewed evidence that included her anti-Israel comments on social media, according to the hospital’s statement.

On May 26, Dr. Wishah posted, “We will uncover your thirst to kill our Palestinian children. … We sense your fear. The fear of your collapse. A state based on atrocity, inhumanity, racism and cannibalism never last long! Hey #israel … your end is coming sooner than you think.”

Phoenix Children’s Hospital did not respond to this news organization’s request for comment but said in a statement to the Jewish News Syndicate : “After a thorough review of the facts related to this matter, this individual is no longer providing care at Phoenix Children’s. All children in the care of Phoenix Children’s receive hope, healing and the best possible health care, regardless of race, color, disability, religion, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation or national origin.”

Dr. Wishah’s profile has been removed from the hospital website. Her LinkedIn profile indicates she had been a pediatric radiology fellow at Stanford (Calif.) University, specializing in advanced magnetic resonance imaging and fetal imaging and had been a senior staff pediatric radiologist at Henry Ford Health System in Detroit.

It wasn’t the first time antisemitic comments have led to the firing of a physician. Last year, this news organization wrote about Lara Kollab, DO, a first-year resident fired for her antisemitic tweets. She was subsequently barred from medicine.

In the same post from May 26, Dr. Wishah also wrote: “We will not be #censored anymore! Bomb our media buildings and we have the phones[.] Bribe the mainstream media and we have our small #socialmedia platforms[.] From our windows ... from our streets ... next the rubble we will expose you to the world[.] We will expose the #massacre and #genocide you #zionists are proud of[.]”

Today, CAIR-AZ, a group whose mission is to “enhance understanding of Islam, protect civil rights, promote justice, and empower American Muslims,” according to its website, announced that it, along with three private law firms, will represent Dr. Wishah in what they referred to as “her wrongful termination case against Phoenix Children’s Hospital.”

The announcement, which mentions that Dr. Wishah was born and raised in Gaza, said, “Dr. Wishah has been a medical doctor since 2010 and has spent the vast majority of her career as a pediatric physician. Despite caring for thousands of children, many of whom are Jewish, she has never been accused of discriminating against any of her patients or colleagues.”

The statement added, “PCH’s decision to terminate Dr. Wishah is shameful and an attack on freedom of speech.”

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

Fidaa Wishah, MD, a pediatric radiologist at Phoenix Children’s Hospital in Arizona, has been fired after the hospital reviewed evidence that included her anti-Israel comments on social media, according to the hospital’s statement.

On May 26, Dr. Wishah posted, “We will uncover your thirst to kill our Palestinian children. … We sense your fear. The fear of your collapse. A state based on atrocity, inhumanity, racism and cannibalism never last long! Hey #israel … your end is coming sooner than you think.”

Phoenix Children’s Hospital did not respond to this news organization’s request for comment but said in a statement to the Jewish News Syndicate : “After a thorough review of the facts related to this matter, this individual is no longer providing care at Phoenix Children’s. All children in the care of Phoenix Children’s receive hope, healing and the best possible health care, regardless of race, color, disability, religion, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation or national origin.”

Dr. Wishah’s profile has been removed from the hospital website. Her LinkedIn profile indicates she had been a pediatric radiology fellow at Stanford (Calif.) University, specializing in advanced magnetic resonance imaging and fetal imaging and had been a senior staff pediatric radiologist at Henry Ford Health System in Detroit.

It wasn’t the first time antisemitic comments have led to the firing of a physician. Last year, this news organization wrote about Lara Kollab, DO, a first-year resident fired for her antisemitic tweets. She was subsequently barred from medicine.

In the same post from May 26, Dr. Wishah also wrote: “We will not be #censored anymore! Bomb our media buildings and we have the phones[.] Bribe the mainstream media and we have our small #socialmedia platforms[.] From our windows ... from our streets ... next the rubble we will expose you to the world[.] We will expose the #massacre and #genocide you #zionists are proud of[.]”

Today, CAIR-AZ, a group whose mission is to “enhance understanding of Islam, protect civil rights, promote justice, and empower American Muslims,” according to its website, announced that it, along with three private law firms, will represent Dr. Wishah in what they referred to as “her wrongful termination case against Phoenix Children’s Hospital.”

The announcement, which mentions that Dr. Wishah was born and raised in Gaza, said, “Dr. Wishah has been a medical doctor since 2010 and has spent the vast majority of her career as a pediatric physician. Despite caring for thousands of children, many of whom are Jewish, she has never been accused of discriminating against any of her patients or colleagues.”

The statement added, “PCH’s decision to terminate Dr. Wishah is shameful and an attack on freedom of speech.”

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

Fidaa Wishah, MD, a pediatric radiologist at Phoenix Children’s Hospital in Arizona, has been fired after the hospital reviewed evidence that included her anti-Israel comments on social media, according to the hospital’s statement.

On May 26, Dr. Wishah posted, “We will uncover your thirst to kill our Palestinian children. … We sense your fear. The fear of your collapse. A state based on atrocity, inhumanity, racism and cannibalism never last long! Hey #israel … your end is coming sooner than you think.”

Phoenix Children’s Hospital did not respond to this news organization’s request for comment but said in a statement to the Jewish News Syndicate : “After a thorough review of the facts related to this matter, this individual is no longer providing care at Phoenix Children’s. All children in the care of Phoenix Children’s receive hope, healing and the best possible health care, regardless of race, color, disability, religion, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation or national origin.”

Dr. Wishah’s profile has been removed from the hospital website. Her LinkedIn profile indicates she had been a pediatric radiology fellow at Stanford (Calif.) University, specializing in advanced magnetic resonance imaging and fetal imaging and had been a senior staff pediatric radiologist at Henry Ford Health System in Detroit.

It wasn’t the first time antisemitic comments have led to the firing of a physician. Last year, this news organization wrote about Lara Kollab, DO, a first-year resident fired for her antisemitic tweets. She was subsequently barred from medicine.

In the same post from May 26, Dr. Wishah also wrote: “We will not be #censored anymore! Bomb our media buildings and we have the phones[.] Bribe the mainstream media and we have our small #socialmedia platforms[.] From our windows ... from our streets ... next the rubble we will expose you to the world[.] We will expose the #massacre and #genocide you #zionists are proud of[.]”

Today, CAIR-AZ, a group whose mission is to “enhance understanding of Islam, protect civil rights, promote justice, and empower American Muslims,” according to its website, announced that it, along with three private law firms, will represent Dr. Wishah in what they referred to as “her wrongful termination case against Phoenix Children’s Hospital.”

The announcement, which mentions that Dr. Wishah was born and raised in Gaza, said, “Dr. Wishah has been a medical doctor since 2010 and has spent the vast majority of her career as a pediatric physician. Despite caring for thousands of children, many of whom are Jewish, she has never been accused of discriminating against any of her patients or colleagues.”

The statement added, “PCH’s decision to terminate Dr. Wishah is shameful and an attack on freedom of speech.”

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

A neurosurgeon who operated on the wrong side of his patient’s spine claims he can’t be sued because of a federal law that protects health care professionals during a public health emergency, according to a report by KSDK, an NBC-affiliated television station in St. Louis.

Natalie Avilez, who lives in Missouri with her husband and five children, had been suffering from intense back pain. At some point in the recent past (the story doesn’t identify precisely when), she was referred to Fangxiang Chen, MD, a neurosurgeon affiliated with Mercy Hospital and Mercy Hospital South, in St. Louis. Ms. Avilez reportedly claims that Dr. Chen told her that an “easy” surgery – a hemilaminectomy – could relieve her back pain.

Something went wrong during the procedure, however. Dr. Chen ended up operating on the left side of Avilez’s spine instead of the right side, where he had initially diagnosed disk-related pressure. Dr. Chen realized his mistake while his patient was under anesthesia but couldn’t remedy it.

As the patient awakened, Dr. Chen asked her to authorize an immediate right-side surgery, but, as Ms. Avilez told the TV station, her “charge nurse would not let him get authorization because I wasn’t fully awake.” In the recovery room afterward, Dr. Chen explained what had happened to his patient, who permitted him to redo the surgery the following day.

But the redo didn’t remedy Ms. Avilez’s pain; in fact, the second surgery made things worse. “I’m always in constant pain,” she said. “I kind of feel like I would have been better off not even doing it at all.”

In January of this year, Ms. Avilez filed a medical malpractice suit against Dr. Chen and Mercy. But the neurosurgeon made a surprising claim: He said he couldn’t be sued for the wrong-site surgery because he was protected for any “alleged acts or omissions” under the federal Public Readiness and Emergency Preparedness (PREP) Act.

Initially passed in 2005, PREP was intended to shield doctors and other licensed health care professionals from liability during a public health emergency except in cases of willful misconduct. On March 17, 2020, then–Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar invoked the PREP Act “for activities related to medical countermeasures against COVID-19.”

But could this declaration – which has since been amended multiple times – shield a physician from a claim of wrong-site surgery?

Ms. Avilez’s attorney, Morgan Murphy, doesn’t think so. “Obviously, we are not claiming that COVID had anything to do with the fact that Dr. Chen operated on the incorrect side of Natalie’s spine. It is a fairly straightforward situation. A doctor should never perform the incorrect surgery, period.”

Other observers are less certain that the Chen defense won’t hold. It’s true the PREP Act doesn’t protect doctors against claims of willful or intentional misconduct, says Deidre Gilbert, who leads a national medical malpractice patient-advocacy group. But such claims are, she quickly adds, very difficult to prove, never more so than during a pandemic.

Several states, including Missouri, have passed or are considering additional measures to protect health care professionals against the expected wave of COVID-related claims. (One estimate places the number of those claims at almost 6,000 as of February 2021.) “We want to make sure that there is a heightened standard for holding somebody liable in ... COVID transmission cases,” said the sponsor of the proposed Show-Me State legislation.

As for Ms. Avilez, she feels lucky that she’s not even worse off than she is now. She worries, though, about other patients who are less fortunate and who are told that the pandemic protects their health care professionals from liability. “That’s just not fair,” she says.
 

Hidden beliefs about people of color raise liability risks

Clinicians’ “implicit bias” can exacerbate medical disparities and also malpractice claims, a story in the Dayton Daily News reports.

The story’s authors cite La Fleur Small, PhD, a medical sociologist at Wayne State University, in Detroit, who sees “implicit bias” as a set of “unconscious associations and judgments” that affect social behavior, causing people to act in ways that are often contrary to their perceived value system. In the medical profession, such thinking can have unintended consequences, especially for people of color.

Implicit bias can erode the physician-patient relationship, which in turn can make a malpractice suit more likely should an adverse event occur. Studies reported in recent years in the AMA Journal of Ethics, for instance, found that poor communication was a factor in almost three-quarters of closed claims. Other studies have revealed that, of patients seeking legal advice following a medical mishap, more than half cited a poor doctor-patient relationship as a contributing factor in their decision.

To remedy things, it would be helpful to boost the number of doctors of color, at least to the point that it more closely reflects the percentage in the general population, say experts. Currently, although Black and Hispanic persons constitute 13.4% and 18.5%, respectively, of the overall U.S. population, they make up only 5.0% and 5.8% of active physicians. (As of 2018, 56.2% of all physicians were White and 17.2% were Asian, according to data from the Association of American Medical Colleges.)
 

Father of impaired baby seeks mega damages

An Oregon man whose son sustained permanent neurologic injuries during childbirth has sued the hospital where the 2017 delivery took place, as reported in The Astorian.

In the suit on behalf of his son, Wesley Humphries claims that Columbia Memorial Hospital in Astoria, Oregon, failed to monitor the baby’s heart rate and other aspects of the labor and delivery. As a consequence, the baby needed to be transferred to Oregon Health and Science University Hospital in Portland, approximately 100 miles away, for emergency treatment. Doctors there diagnosed the child as having hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy, which his lawyers say resulted in cerebral palsy, among other neurologic conditions.

Because of his son’s permanent impairment, Mr. Humphries is seeking significant damages: more than $45 million in medical, custodial, and life-care expenses and $65 million in noneconomic damages. Should his claim prove successful, the payout would mark one of the largest awards – if not the largest award – in Oregon State history. The hospital has declined to comment.

At press time, a trial date hadn’t been set.

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

A neurosurgeon who operated on the wrong side of his patient’s spine claims he can’t be sued because of a federal law that protects health care professionals during a public health emergency, according to a report by KSDK, an NBC-affiliated television station in St. Louis.

Natalie Avilez, who lives in Missouri with her husband and five children, had been suffering from intense back pain. At some point in the recent past (the story doesn’t identify precisely when), she was referred to Fangxiang Chen, MD, a neurosurgeon affiliated with Mercy Hospital and Mercy Hospital South, in St. Louis. Ms. Avilez reportedly claims that Dr. Chen told her that an “easy” surgery – a hemilaminectomy – could relieve her back pain.

Something went wrong during the procedure, however. Dr. Chen ended up operating on the left side of Avilez’s spine instead of the right side, where he had initially diagnosed disk-related pressure. Dr. Chen realized his mistake while his patient was under anesthesia but couldn’t remedy it.

As the patient awakened, Dr. Chen asked her to authorize an immediate right-side surgery, but, as Ms. Avilez told the TV station, her “charge nurse would not let him get authorization because I wasn’t fully awake.” In the recovery room afterward, Dr. Chen explained what had happened to his patient, who permitted him to redo the surgery the following day.

But the redo didn’t remedy Ms. Avilez’s pain; in fact, the second surgery made things worse. “I’m always in constant pain,” she said. “I kind of feel like I would have been better off not even doing it at all.”

In January of this year, Ms. Avilez filed a medical malpractice suit against Dr. Chen and Mercy. But the neurosurgeon made a surprising claim: He said he couldn’t be sued for the wrong-site surgery because he was protected for any “alleged acts or omissions” under the federal Public Readiness and Emergency Preparedness (PREP) Act.

Initially passed in 2005, PREP was intended to shield doctors and other licensed health care professionals from liability during a public health emergency except in cases of willful misconduct. On March 17, 2020, then–Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar invoked the PREP Act “for activities related to medical countermeasures against COVID-19.”

But could this declaration – which has since been amended multiple times – shield a physician from a claim of wrong-site surgery?

Ms. Avilez’s attorney, Morgan Murphy, doesn’t think so. “Obviously, we are not claiming that COVID had anything to do with the fact that Dr. Chen operated on the incorrect side of Natalie’s spine. It is a fairly straightforward situation. A doctor should never perform the incorrect surgery, period.”

Other observers are less certain that the Chen defense won’t hold. It’s true the PREP Act doesn’t protect doctors against claims of willful or intentional misconduct, says Deidre Gilbert, who leads a national medical malpractice patient-advocacy group. But such claims are, she quickly adds, very difficult to prove, never more so than during a pandemic.

Several states, including Missouri, have passed or are considering additional measures to protect health care professionals against the expected wave of COVID-related claims. (One estimate places the number of those claims at almost 6,000 as of February 2021.) “We want to make sure that there is a heightened standard for holding somebody liable in ... COVID transmission cases,” said the sponsor of the proposed Show-Me State legislation.

As for Ms. Avilez, she feels lucky that she’s not even worse off than she is now. She worries, though, about other patients who are less fortunate and who are told that the pandemic protects their health care professionals from liability. “That’s just not fair,” she says.
 

Hidden beliefs about people of color raise liability risks

Clinicians’ “implicit bias” can exacerbate medical disparities and also malpractice claims, a story in the Dayton Daily News reports.

The story’s authors cite La Fleur Small, PhD, a medical sociologist at Wayne State University, in Detroit, who sees “implicit bias” as a set of “unconscious associations and judgments” that affect social behavior, causing people to act in ways that are often contrary to their perceived value system. In the medical profession, such thinking can have unintended consequences, especially for people of color.

Implicit bias can erode the physician-patient relationship, which in turn can make a malpractice suit more likely should an adverse event occur. Studies reported in recent years in the AMA Journal of Ethics, for instance, found that poor communication was a factor in almost three-quarters of closed claims. Other studies have revealed that, of patients seeking legal advice following a medical mishap, more than half cited a poor doctor-patient relationship as a contributing factor in their decision.

To remedy things, it would be helpful to boost the number of doctors of color, at least to the point that it more closely reflects the percentage in the general population, say experts. Currently, although Black and Hispanic persons constitute 13.4% and 18.5%, respectively, of the overall U.S. population, they make up only 5.0% and 5.8% of active physicians. (As of 2018, 56.2% of all physicians were White and 17.2% were Asian, according to data from the Association of American Medical Colleges.)
 

Father of impaired baby seeks mega damages

An Oregon man whose son sustained permanent neurologic injuries during childbirth has sued the hospital where the 2017 delivery took place, as reported in The Astorian.

In the suit on behalf of his son, Wesley Humphries claims that Columbia Memorial Hospital in Astoria, Oregon, failed to monitor the baby’s heart rate and other aspects of the labor and delivery. As a consequence, the baby needed to be transferred to Oregon Health and Science University Hospital in Portland, approximately 100 miles away, for emergency treatment. Doctors there diagnosed the child as having hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy, which his lawyers say resulted in cerebral palsy, among other neurologic conditions.

Because of his son’s permanent impairment, Mr. Humphries is seeking significant damages: more than $45 million in medical, custodial, and life-care expenses and $65 million in noneconomic damages. Should his claim prove successful, the payout would mark one of the largest awards – if not the largest award – in Oregon State history. The hospital has declined to comment.

At press time, a trial date hadn’t been set.

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

A neurosurgeon who operated on the wrong side of his patient’s spine claims he can’t be sued because of a federal law that protects health care professionals during a public health emergency, according to a report by KSDK, an NBC-affiliated television station in St. Louis.

Natalie Avilez, who lives in Missouri with her husband and five children, had been suffering from intense back pain. At some point in the recent past (the story doesn’t identify precisely when), she was referred to Fangxiang Chen, MD, a neurosurgeon affiliated with Mercy Hospital and Mercy Hospital South, in St. Louis. Ms. Avilez reportedly claims that Dr. Chen told her that an “easy” surgery – a hemilaminectomy – could relieve her back pain.

Something went wrong during the procedure, however. Dr. Chen ended up operating on the left side of Avilez’s spine instead of the right side, where he had initially diagnosed disk-related pressure. Dr. Chen realized his mistake while his patient was under anesthesia but couldn’t remedy it.

As the patient awakened, Dr. Chen asked her to authorize an immediate right-side surgery, but, as Ms. Avilez told the TV station, her “charge nurse would not let him get authorization because I wasn’t fully awake.” In the recovery room afterward, Dr. Chen explained what had happened to his patient, who permitted him to redo the surgery the following day.

But the redo didn’t remedy Ms. Avilez’s pain; in fact, the second surgery made things worse. “I’m always in constant pain,” she said. “I kind of feel like I would have been better off not even doing it at all.”

In January of this year, Ms. Avilez filed a medical malpractice suit against Dr. Chen and Mercy. But the neurosurgeon made a surprising claim: He said he couldn’t be sued for the wrong-site surgery because he was protected for any “alleged acts or omissions” under the federal Public Readiness and Emergency Preparedness (PREP) Act.

Initially passed in 2005, PREP was intended to shield doctors and other licensed health care professionals from liability during a public health emergency except in cases of willful misconduct. On March 17, 2020, then–Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar invoked the PREP Act “for activities related to medical countermeasures against COVID-19.”

But could this declaration – which has since been amended multiple times – shield a physician from a claim of wrong-site surgery?

Ms. Avilez’s attorney, Morgan Murphy, doesn’t think so. “Obviously, we are not claiming that COVID had anything to do with the fact that Dr. Chen operated on the incorrect side of Natalie’s spine. It is a fairly straightforward situation. A doctor should never perform the incorrect surgery, period.”

Other observers are less certain that the Chen defense won’t hold. It’s true the PREP Act doesn’t protect doctors against claims of willful or intentional misconduct, says Deidre Gilbert, who leads a national medical malpractice patient-advocacy group. But such claims are, she quickly adds, very difficult to prove, never more so than during a pandemic.

Several states, including Missouri, have passed or are considering additional measures to protect health care professionals against the expected wave of COVID-related claims. (One estimate places the number of those claims at almost 6,000 as of February 2021.) “We want to make sure that there is a heightened standard for holding somebody liable in ... COVID transmission cases,” said the sponsor of the proposed Show-Me State legislation.

As for Ms. Avilez, she feels lucky that she’s not even worse off than she is now. She worries, though, about other patients who are less fortunate and who are told that the pandemic protects their health care professionals from liability. “That’s just not fair,” she says.
 

Hidden beliefs about people of color raise liability risks

Clinicians’ “implicit bias” can exacerbate medical disparities and also malpractice claims, a story in the Dayton Daily News reports.

The story’s authors cite La Fleur Small, PhD, a medical sociologist at Wayne State University, in Detroit, who sees “implicit bias” as a set of “unconscious associations and judgments” that affect social behavior, causing people to act in ways that are often contrary to their perceived value system. In the medical profession, such thinking can have unintended consequences, especially for people of color.

Implicit bias can erode the physician-patient relationship, which in turn can make a malpractice suit more likely should an adverse event occur. Studies reported in recent years in the AMA Journal of Ethics, for instance, found that poor communication was a factor in almost three-quarters of closed claims. Other studies have revealed that, of patients seeking legal advice following a medical mishap, more than half cited a poor doctor-patient relationship as a contributing factor in their decision.

To remedy things, it would be helpful to boost the number of doctors of color, at least to the point that it more closely reflects the percentage in the general population, say experts. Currently, although Black and Hispanic persons constitute 13.4% and 18.5%, respectively, of the overall U.S. population, they make up only 5.0% and 5.8% of active physicians. (As of 2018, 56.2% of all physicians were White and 17.2% were Asian, according to data from the Association of American Medical Colleges.)
 

Father of impaired baby seeks mega damages

An Oregon man whose son sustained permanent neurologic injuries during childbirth has sued the hospital where the 2017 delivery took place, as reported in The Astorian.

In the suit on behalf of his son, Wesley Humphries claims that Columbia Memorial Hospital in Astoria, Oregon, failed to monitor the baby’s heart rate and other aspects of the labor and delivery. As a consequence, the baby needed to be transferred to Oregon Health and Science University Hospital in Portland, approximately 100 miles away, for emergency treatment. Doctors there diagnosed the child as having hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy, which his lawyers say resulted in cerebral palsy, among other neurologic conditions.

Because of his son’s permanent impairment, Mr. Humphries is seeking significant damages: more than $45 million in medical, custodial, and life-care expenses and $65 million in noneconomic damages. Should his claim prove successful, the payout would mark one of the largest awards – if not the largest award – in Oregon State history. The hospital has declined to comment.

At press time, a trial date hadn’t been set.

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

As of today, I’m still wearing a mask. And I have no desire to stop.  I’ve been vaccinated. Everyone in my family and social circle has been vaccinated. But I’m still wearing one, at least inside (besides my house).

In my everyday life I see a fair number of patients. Because I’m in a medical office, not a grocery store, I still ask others to wear them.

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

As of today, I’m still wearing a mask. And I have no desire to stop.  I’ve been vaccinated. Everyone in my family and social circle has been vaccinated. But I’m still wearing one, at least inside (besides my house).

In my everyday life I see a fair number of patients. Because I’m in a medical office, not a grocery store, I still ask others to wear them.

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

As of today, I’m still wearing a mask. And I have no desire to stop.  I’ve been vaccinated. Everyone in my family and social circle has been vaccinated. But I’m still wearing one, at least inside (besides my house).

In my everyday life I see a fair number of patients. Because I’m in a medical office, not a grocery store, I still ask others to wear them.

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

The proportion of underrepresented groups in pediatric fellowships decreased between 2007 and 2019, while those in pediatric residencies remained stagnant, new research revealed.

Researchers acknowledged that some of the factors contributing to the low proportion of minorities in the pediatric workforce may include educational disparities starting in primary or secondary school, such as underfunded schools and lack of educational resources.

“Something I really appreciated about the paper is that this goes beyond a student stepping into medical school, finding a mentor in pediatrics, and then eventually matriculating into a pediatric residency,” said Christle Nwora, MD, an internal medicine–pediatrics resident physician at Johns Hopkins Urban Health Residency Program in Baltimore, who was not involved in the study. “I like the idea of knowing that people aren’t going into the field and being very critical as to why.”

Prior studies, including a 2019 study published in JAMA Network Open, has found that minority students remain underrepresented in medical schools. However, this most recent study, published in Pediatrics, is one of the first to report trends in the race or ethnicity of pediatric residents and fellows.

“It’s been pretty well documented throughout the medical literature that the representation of underrepresented [groups] in medicine is low among all specialties,” study author Kimberly Montez, MD, MPH, FAAP, said in an interview. “This is one of the first studies that [show this trend] in pediatrics, [but] we were kind of expecting [these findings] knowing the rest of the literature out there.”

Dr. Montez and colleagues examined self-reported race and ethnicity data from 2007 to 2019 for pediatric residents and fellows from the GME Census reports. The annual number of pediatric trainees increased from 7,964 to 8,950 between 2007 and 2019. For pediatric subspecialty fellows, that number increased from 2,684 to 3,966.

The number of underrepresented pediatric trainees also increased over time, from 1,277 to 1,478 residents and 382 to 532 subspecialty fellows. However, researchers found that the trend in proportion of underrepresented in medicine (URiM) trainees was unchanged in pediatric residencies – 16% in 2007 to 16.5% in 2019 – and, overall, decreased for URiM subspecialty fellows from 14.2% in 2007 to 13.5% in 2019.

“I was shocked at the fact that there has been no significant increase either over the last 12 years,” said Joan Park, MD, a pediatric resident at Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, who was not involved in the study. “In the news, we’re seeing way more discussions in regards to racism and representation and the fact that that hasn’t really fueled or caught fire yet in medicine at all to really move that arrow is definitely really shocking.”

The recent study also pointed out that the percentage of underrepresented groups in pediatric residencies and fellowships is considerably lower in comparison with those groups’ representations in the U.S. population. For example, Black or African American people make up 13.4% of the U.S. population but just 5.6% of pediatric trainees. Meanwhile, American Indian or Alaskan Native people make up 1.3% of the U.S. population but make up 0.2% of pediatric trainees.

Dr. Montez hypothesized that the lack of underrepresented groups as pediatric trainees – or in the medical field, in general – may have to do with systemic barriers that span the entire educational continuum and affects them even before they reach medical school, including attendance at underfunded primary and secondary schools.

“Just think about all the barriers that exist for underrepresented minorities in medicine,” said Dr. Montez, assistant professor of pediatrics at Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, N.C. “We know that underrepresented minorities are accepted and matriculate at lower rates than [those of] their nonminority counterparts. All of this occurs even just before getting into the field of pediatrics. So multiple barriers exist.”

Those barriers may also include racism, bias, and discrimination, which may play out unconsciously when members of an underrepresented group are applying for residencies or med school, such as “recognizing a name that may be from a different ethnic or racial background and then unconsciously biasing yourself against that applicant, for example,” Dr. Montez explained.

Dr. Montez said that although there has been progress, there is still a long way to go. She hopes the study will help academic institutions and professional organizations recognize the importance of diversity in pediatrics. She noted that pediatric trainees are more likely to experience microaggressions, which could potentially cause them to leave a program.

“I hope this will galvanize pediatric programs to really think a lot about the environment that they create for underrepresented minority trainees and also about their recruitment process in terms of making sure it’s standardized, using a holistic review,” Dr. Montez explained.

In 2016, the Association of American Medical Colleges published a diversity and inclusion strategic planning guide to improve training programs. Furthermore, in 2019, the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education instituted a new common program requirement on diversity that requires programs to focus on systematic recruitment and retention of a diverse and inclusive workforce of residents and fellows.

“The same way pediatricians are aware of how the environment will shape the way a child grows up, we have to be mindful of the way an environment that surrounds the medical student will shape where they eventually end up as well,” said Dr. Nwora.

The experts disclosed no conflicts of interest.

The proportion of underrepresented groups in pediatric fellowships decreased between 2007 and 2019, while those in pediatric residencies remained stagnant, new research revealed.

Researchers acknowledged that some of the factors contributing to the low proportion of minorities in the pediatric workforce may include educational disparities starting in primary or secondary school, such as underfunded schools and lack of educational resources.

“Something I really appreciated about the paper is that this goes beyond a student stepping into medical school, finding a mentor in pediatrics, and then eventually matriculating into a pediatric residency,” said Christle Nwora, MD, an internal medicine–pediatrics resident physician at Johns Hopkins Urban Health Residency Program in Baltimore, who was not involved in the study. “I like the idea of knowing that people aren’t going into the field and being very critical as to why.”

Prior studies, including a 2019 study published in JAMA Network Open, has found that minority students remain underrepresented in medical schools. However, this most recent study, published in Pediatrics, is one of the first to report trends in the race or ethnicity of pediatric residents and fellows.

“It’s been pretty well documented throughout the medical literature that the representation of underrepresented [groups] in medicine is low among all specialties,” study author Kimberly Montez, MD, MPH, FAAP, said in an interview. “This is one of the first studies that [show this trend] in pediatrics, [but] we were kind of expecting [these findings] knowing the rest of the literature out there.”

Dr. Montez and colleagues examined self-reported race and ethnicity data from 2007 to 2019 for pediatric residents and fellows from the GME Census reports. The annual number of pediatric trainees increased from 7,964 to 8,950 between 2007 and 2019. For pediatric subspecialty fellows, that number increased from 2,684 to 3,966.

The number of underrepresented pediatric trainees also increased over time, from 1,277 to 1,478 residents and 382 to 532 subspecialty fellows. However, researchers found that the trend in proportion of underrepresented in medicine (URiM) trainees was unchanged in pediatric residencies – 16% in 2007 to 16.5% in 2019 – and, overall, decreased for URiM subspecialty fellows from 14.2% in 2007 to 13.5% in 2019.

“I was shocked at the fact that there has been no significant increase either over the last 12 years,” said Joan Park, MD, a pediatric resident at Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, who was not involved in the study. “In the news, we’re seeing way more discussions in regards to racism and representation and the fact that that hasn’t really fueled or caught fire yet in medicine at all to really move that arrow is definitely really shocking.”

The recent study also pointed out that the percentage of underrepresented groups in pediatric residencies and fellowships is considerably lower in comparison with those groups’ representations in the U.S. population. For example, Black or African American people make up 13.4% of the U.S. population but just 5.6% of pediatric trainees. Meanwhile, American Indian or Alaskan Native people make up 1.3% of the U.S. population but make up 0.2% of pediatric trainees.

Dr. Montez hypothesized that the lack of underrepresented groups as pediatric trainees – or in the medical field, in general – may have to do with systemic barriers that span the entire educational continuum and affects them even before they reach medical school, including attendance at underfunded primary and secondary schools.

“Just think about all the barriers that exist for underrepresented minorities in medicine,” said Dr. Montez, assistant professor of pediatrics at Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, N.C. “We know that underrepresented minorities are accepted and matriculate at lower rates than [those of] their nonminority counterparts. All of this occurs even just before getting into the field of pediatrics. So multiple barriers exist.”

Those barriers may also include racism, bias, and discrimination, which may play out unconsciously when members of an underrepresented group are applying for residencies or med school, such as “recognizing a name that may be from a different ethnic or racial background and then unconsciously biasing yourself against that applicant, for example,” Dr. Montez explained.

Dr. Montez said that although there has been progress, there is still a long way to go. She hopes the study will help academic institutions and professional organizations recognize the importance of diversity in pediatrics. She noted that pediatric trainees are more likely to experience microaggressions, which could potentially cause them to leave a program.

“I hope this will galvanize pediatric programs to really think a lot about the environment that they create for underrepresented minority trainees and also about their recruitment process in terms of making sure it’s standardized, using a holistic review,” Dr. Montez explained.

In 2016, the Association of American Medical Colleges published a diversity and inclusion strategic planning guide to improve training programs. Furthermore, in 2019, the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education instituted a new common program requirement on diversity that requires programs to focus on systematic recruitment and retention of a diverse and inclusive workforce of residents and fellows.

“The same way pediatricians are aware of how the environment will shape the way a child grows up, we have to be mindful of the way an environment that surrounds the medical student will shape where they eventually end up as well,” said Dr. Nwora.

The experts disclosed no conflicts of interest.

The proportion of underrepresented groups in pediatric fellowships decreased between 2007 and 2019, while those in pediatric residencies remained stagnant, new research revealed.

Researchers acknowledged that some of the factors contributing to the low proportion of minorities in the pediatric workforce may include educational disparities starting in primary or secondary school, such as underfunded schools and lack of educational resources.

“Something I really appreciated about the paper is that this goes beyond a student stepping into medical school, finding a mentor in pediatrics, and then eventually matriculating into a pediatric residency,” said Christle Nwora, MD, an internal medicine–pediatrics resident physician at Johns Hopkins Urban Health Residency Program in Baltimore, who was not involved in the study. “I like the idea of knowing that people aren’t going into the field and being very critical as to why.”

Prior studies, including a 2019 study published in JAMA Network Open, has found that minority students remain underrepresented in medical schools. However, this most recent study, published in Pediatrics, is one of the first to report trends in the race or ethnicity of pediatric residents and fellows.

“It’s been pretty well documented throughout the medical literature that the representation of underrepresented [groups] in medicine is low among all specialties,” study author Kimberly Montez, MD, MPH, FAAP, said in an interview. “This is one of the first studies that [show this trend] in pediatrics, [but] we were kind of expecting [these findings] knowing the rest of the literature out there.”

Dr. Montez and colleagues examined self-reported race and ethnicity data from 2007 to 2019 for pediatric residents and fellows from the GME Census reports. The annual number of pediatric trainees increased from 7,964 to 8,950 between 2007 and 2019. For pediatric subspecialty fellows, that number increased from 2,684 to 3,966.

The number of underrepresented pediatric trainees also increased over time, from 1,277 to 1,478 residents and 382 to 532 subspecialty fellows. However, researchers found that the trend in proportion of underrepresented in medicine (URiM) trainees was unchanged in pediatric residencies – 16% in 2007 to 16.5% in 2019 – and, overall, decreased for URiM subspecialty fellows from 14.2% in 2007 to 13.5% in 2019.

“I was shocked at the fact that there has been no significant increase either over the last 12 years,” said Joan Park, MD, a pediatric resident at Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, who was not involved in the study. “In the news, we’re seeing way more discussions in regards to racism and representation and the fact that that hasn’t really fueled or caught fire yet in medicine at all to really move that arrow is definitely really shocking.”

The recent study also pointed out that the percentage of underrepresented groups in pediatric residencies and fellowships is considerably lower in comparison with those groups’ representations in the U.S. population. For example, Black or African American people make up 13.4% of the U.S. population but just 5.6% of pediatric trainees. Meanwhile, American Indian or Alaskan Native people make up 1.3% of the U.S. population but make up 0.2% of pediatric trainees.

Dr. Montez hypothesized that the lack of underrepresented groups as pediatric trainees – or in the medical field, in general – may have to do with systemic barriers that span the entire educational continuum and affects them even before they reach medical school, including attendance at underfunded primary and secondary schools.

“Just think about all the barriers that exist for underrepresented minorities in medicine,” said Dr. Montez, assistant professor of pediatrics at Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, N.C. “We know that underrepresented minorities are accepted and matriculate at lower rates than [those of] their nonminority counterparts. All of this occurs even just before getting into the field of pediatrics. So multiple barriers exist.”

Those barriers may also include racism, bias, and discrimination, which may play out unconsciously when members of an underrepresented group are applying for residencies or med school, such as “recognizing a name that may be from a different ethnic or racial background and then unconsciously biasing yourself against that applicant, for example,” Dr. Montez explained.

Dr. Montez said that although there has been progress, there is still a long way to go. She hopes the study will help academic institutions and professional organizations recognize the importance of diversity in pediatrics. She noted that pediatric trainees are more likely to experience microaggressions, which could potentially cause them to leave a program.

“I hope this will galvanize pediatric programs to really think a lot about the environment that they create for underrepresented minority trainees and also about their recruitment process in terms of making sure it’s standardized, using a holistic review,” Dr. Montez explained.

In 2016, the Association of American Medical Colleges published a diversity and inclusion strategic planning guide to improve training programs. Furthermore, in 2019, the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education instituted a new common program requirement on diversity that requires programs to focus on systematic recruitment and retention of a diverse and inclusive workforce of residents and fellows.

“The same way pediatricians are aware of how the environment will shape the way a child grows up, we have to be mindful of the way an environment that surrounds the medical student will shape where they eventually end up as well,” said Dr. Nwora.

The experts disclosed no conflicts of interest.

Families with private health insurance pay around $3,000 for newborn delivery and hospitalization, while adding neonatal intensive care can push the bill closer to $5,000, based on a retrospective look at almost 400,000 episodes.

The findings suggest that privately insured families need prenatal financial counseling, as well as screening for financial hardship after delivery, reported lead author Kao-Ping Chua, MD, PhD, assistant professor and health policy researcher in the department of pediatrics and the Susan B. Meister Child Health Evaluation and Research Center at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues.

“Concern is growing regarding the high and rising financial burden of childbirth for privately insured families,” the investigators wrote in Pediatrics. “Previous studies assessing this burden have focused on out-of-pocket spending for maternal care, including hospitalizations for delivery. However, there are no recent national data on out-of-pocket spending across the childbirth episode, including both deliveries and newborn hospitalizations.”

To address this knowledge gap, Dr. Chua and colleagues turned to Optum’s deidentified Clinformatics Data Mart, comprising 12 million privately insured individuals across the United States. The investigators identified 398,410 childbirth episodes occurring between 2016 and 2019. Each episode was defined as one delivery and at least one newborn hospitalization under the same family plan.

Out-of-pocket cost included copayment plus coinsurance and deductibles. Primary outcomes included mean total out-of-pocket spending and proportion of episodes exceeding $5,000 or $10,000. Subgroup analyses compared differences in spending between episodes involving neonatal intensive care or cesarean birth.

The mean out-of-pocket spending was $2,281 for delivery and $788 for newborn hospitalization, giving a total of $3,068 per childbirth episode. Coinsurance and deductibles accounted for much of that cost, at 55.8% and 42.1%, respectively, whereas copayments accounted for a relatively minor portion (2.2%).

Almost all episodes (95%) cost more than zero dollars, while 17.1% cost more than $5,000 and 1.0% cost more than $10,000. Total mean out-of-pocket spending was higher for episodes involving cesarean birth ($3,389) or neonatal intensive care ($4,969), the latter of which cost more than $10,000 in 8.8% of episodes.

“Because details on plan benefit design were unavailable, the generalizability of findings to all privately insured Americans is unclear,” the investigators noted. “However, the proportion of childbirth episodes covered by high-deductible health plans in this study is consistent with the prevalence of such plans among Americans with employer-sponsored insurance.”

The findings suggest that financial reform is needed, Dr. Chua and colleagues concluded.

“To avoid imposing undue financial burden on families, private insurers should improve childbirth coverage,” they wrote. “An incremental step would be providing first-dollar coverage of deliveries and newborn hospitalizations before deductibles are met. Ideally, however, insurers would waive most or all cost-sharing for these hospitalizations, consistent with the approach taken by Medicaid programs and many developed countries.”

According to Madeline Sutton, MD, assistant professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Morehouse School of Medicine, Atlanta, the size of the study is commendable, but some details are lacking.

“Although the overall sample size allows for a robust analysis, deciding to not report the confidence intervals in this report does not allow for understanding of [the findings with] smaller sample sizes,” Dr. Sutton said in an interview.

(Dr. Chua and colleagues noted that they did not report confidence intervals because “all differences between subgroups were significant owing to large sample sizes.”)

“Still,” Dr. Sutton went on, “this is an important study that has implications for financial counseling that may need to be a part of preconceptional, prenatal, and postnatal visits for privately insured families to help with planning and to decrease the chances of childbirth-related financial hardships. Additionally, policy-level changes that decrease or eliminate these private insurance–related childbirth-episode costs that may negatively impact some families with lower incomes, are warranted.”

The study was funded by the National Institutes of Health. Dr. Chua disclosed a grant from the National Institute on Drug Abuse, while Dr. Moniz is supported by the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. Dr. Sutton had no relevant disclosures.

Families with private health insurance pay around $3,000 for newborn delivery and hospitalization, while adding neonatal intensive care can push the bill closer to $5,000, based on a retrospective look at almost 400,000 episodes.

The findings suggest that privately insured families need prenatal financial counseling, as well as screening for financial hardship after delivery, reported lead author Kao-Ping Chua, MD, PhD, assistant professor and health policy researcher in the department of pediatrics and the Susan B. Meister Child Health Evaluation and Research Center at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues.

“Concern is growing regarding the high and rising financial burden of childbirth for privately insured families,” the investigators wrote in Pediatrics. “Previous studies assessing this burden have focused on out-of-pocket spending for maternal care, including hospitalizations for delivery. However, there are no recent national data on out-of-pocket spending across the childbirth episode, including both deliveries and newborn hospitalizations.”

To address this knowledge gap, Dr. Chua and colleagues turned to Optum’s deidentified Clinformatics Data Mart, comprising 12 million privately insured individuals across the United States. The investigators identified 398,410 childbirth episodes occurring between 2016 and 2019. Each episode was defined as one delivery and at least one newborn hospitalization under the same family plan.

Out-of-pocket cost included copayment plus coinsurance and deductibles. Primary outcomes included mean total out-of-pocket spending and proportion of episodes exceeding $5,000 or $10,000. Subgroup analyses compared differences in spending between episodes involving neonatal intensive care or cesarean birth.

The mean out-of-pocket spending was $2,281 for delivery and $788 for newborn hospitalization, giving a total of $3,068 per childbirth episode. Coinsurance and deductibles accounted for much of that cost, at 55.8% and 42.1%, respectively, whereas copayments accounted for a relatively minor portion (2.2%).

Almost all episodes (95%) cost more than zero dollars, while 17.1% cost more than $5,000 and 1.0% cost more than $10,000. Total mean out-of-pocket spending was higher for episodes involving cesarean birth ($3,389) or neonatal intensive care ($4,969), the latter of which cost more than $10,000 in 8.8% of episodes.

“Because details on plan benefit design were unavailable, the generalizability of findings to all privately insured Americans is unclear,” the investigators noted. “However, the proportion of childbirth episodes covered by high-deductible health plans in this study is consistent with the prevalence of such plans among Americans with employer-sponsored insurance.”

The findings suggest that financial reform is needed, Dr. Chua and colleagues concluded.

“To avoid imposing undue financial burden on families, private insurers should improve childbirth coverage,” they wrote. “An incremental step would be providing first-dollar coverage of deliveries and newborn hospitalizations before deductibles are met. Ideally, however, insurers would waive most or all cost-sharing for these hospitalizations, consistent with the approach taken by Medicaid programs and many developed countries.”

According to Madeline Sutton, MD, assistant professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Morehouse School of Medicine, Atlanta, the size of the study is commendable, but some details are lacking.

“Although the overall sample size allows for a robust analysis, deciding to not report the confidence intervals in this report does not allow for understanding of [the findings with] smaller sample sizes,” Dr. Sutton said in an interview.

(Dr. Chua and colleagues noted that they did not report confidence intervals because “all differences between subgroups were significant owing to large sample sizes.”)

“Still,” Dr. Sutton went on, “this is an important study that has implications for financial counseling that may need to be a part of preconceptional, prenatal, and postnatal visits for privately insured families to help with planning and to decrease the chances of childbirth-related financial hardships. Additionally, policy-level changes that decrease or eliminate these private insurance–related childbirth-episode costs that may negatively impact some families with lower incomes, are warranted.”

The study was funded by the National Institutes of Health. Dr. Chua disclosed a grant from the National Institute on Drug Abuse, while Dr. Moniz is supported by the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. Dr. Sutton had no relevant disclosures.

Families with private health insurance pay around $3,000 for newborn delivery and hospitalization, while adding neonatal intensive care can push the bill closer to $5,000, based on a retrospective look at almost 400,000 episodes.

The findings suggest that privately insured families need prenatal financial counseling, as well as screening for financial hardship after delivery, reported lead author Kao-Ping Chua, MD, PhD, assistant professor and health policy researcher in the department of pediatrics and the Susan B. Meister Child Health Evaluation and Research Center at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and colleagues.

“Concern is growing regarding the high and rising financial burden of childbirth for privately insured families,” the investigators wrote in Pediatrics. “Previous studies assessing this burden have focused on out-of-pocket spending for maternal care, including hospitalizations for delivery. However, there are no recent national data on out-of-pocket spending across the childbirth episode, including both deliveries and newborn hospitalizations.”

To address this knowledge gap, Dr. Chua and colleagues turned to Optum’s deidentified Clinformatics Data Mart, comprising 12 million privately insured individuals across the United States. The investigators identified 398,410 childbirth episodes occurring between 2016 and 2019. Each episode was defined as one delivery and at least one newborn hospitalization under the same family plan.

Out-of-pocket cost included copayment plus coinsurance and deductibles. Primary outcomes included mean total out-of-pocket spending and proportion of episodes exceeding $5,000 or $10,000. Subgroup analyses compared differences in spending between episodes involving neonatal intensive care or cesarean birth.

The mean out-of-pocket spending was $2,281 for delivery and $788 for newborn hospitalization, giving a total of $3,068 per childbirth episode. Coinsurance and deductibles accounted for much of that cost, at 55.8% and 42.1%, respectively, whereas copayments accounted for a relatively minor portion (2.2%).

Almost all episodes (95%) cost more than zero dollars, while 17.1% cost more than $5,000 and 1.0% cost more than $10,000. Total mean out-of-pocket spending was higher for episodes involving cesarean birth ($3,389) or neonatal intensive care ($4,969), the latter of which cost more than $10,000 in 8.8% of episodes.

“Because details on plan benefit design were unavailable, the generalizability of findings to all privately insured Americans is unclear,” the investigators noted. “However, the proportion of childbirth episodes covered by high-deductible health plans in this study is consistent with the prevalence of such plans among Americans with employer-sponsored insurance.”

The findings suggest that financial reform is needed, Dr. Chua and colleagues concluded.

“To avoid imposing undue financial burden on families, private insurers should improve childbirth coverage,” they wrote. “An incremental step would be providing first-dollar coverage of deliveries and newborn hospitalizations before deductibles are met. Ideally, however, insurers would waive most or all cost-sharing for these hospitalizations, consistent with the approach taken by Medicaid programs and many developed countries.”

According to Madeline Sutton, MD, assistant professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Morehouse School of Medicine, Atlanta, the size of the study is commendable, but some details are lacking.

“Although the overall sample size allows for a robust analysis, deciding to not report the confidence intervals in this report does not allow for understanding of [the findings with] smaller sample sizes,” Dr. Sutton said in an interview.

(Dr. Chua and colleagues noted that they did not report confidence intervals because “all differences between subgroups were significant owing to large sample sizes.”)

“Still,” Dr. Sutton went on, “this is an important study that has implications for financial counseling that may need to be a part of preconceptional, prenatal, and postnatal visits for privately insured families to help with planning and to decrease the chances of childbirth-related financial hardships. Additionally, policy-level changes that decrease or eliminate these private insurance–related childbirth-episode costs that may negatively impact some families with lower incomes, are warranted.”

The study was funded by the National Institutes of Health. Dr. Chua disclosed a grant from the National Institute on Drug Abuse, while Dr. Moniz is supported by the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. Dr. Sutton had no relevant disclosures.