September 30th, 2009 by AlanDappenMD in Primary Care Wednesdays
Tags: DocTalker, Dr. Alan Dappen, Healthcare reform, Primary Care, Telemedicine
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A Keynote Address To The American Telemedicine Association September 25, 2009
The following is a summary of Alan Dappen, MD, keynote address at the mid-year meeting of the American Telemedicine Association (ATA). His keynote, billed as “Private Practice And Telemedicine: A Success Story” discusses how Dr. Dappen’s practice, DocTalker Family Medicine, which is a fee-for-service practice that deploys telemedicine for over 50% of its patients needs, has enjoyed growth and has received numerous awards and media attention. You can check out Dr. Dappen’s full address on the site.
On to the highlights of Dr. Dappen’s talk:
“This is my third visit to an American Telemedicine Association (ATA) event. I’ve been a proud member for seven years. Two years ago I presented the fundamentals my medical practice DocTalker, where the doctor is chief cook and bottle washer.
“Our practice mirrors the recommendations outlined by the Institutes of Medicine’s book
Crossing the Quality Chasm and those purporting the ‘medical home’ model. Read more »
September 23rd, 2009 by ValerieTinleyNP in Primary Care Wednesdays
Tags: DocTalker, DocTalker Family Medicine, Health In, Healthcare reform, Primary Care
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As a primary care practitioner, I often am baffled by why Americans need insurance for primary, or day-to-day, care issues. When I’m talking about primary care, I mean those health problems that are considered routine, or day-to-day, problems including ear infections to poison ivy as well as many urgent care issues like sutures and draining infections. These account for a large portion of all health problems that occur in the U.S – and 80% of the things that typically up in the ER or urgent care.
My understanding is that the purpose of insurance is to protect our financial well-being and thus our financial nest egg. Investorpedia, which is part of Forbes Digital Media, offers the following definition: “Insurance allows individuals, businesses and other entities to protect themselves against significant potential losses and financial hardship at a reasonably affordable rate.”
This definition explains why we invest in insurance of all types: car insurance, home insurance and health insurance.
Then I wonder why our expectations and utilization of health insurance differs so significantly from home or car insurance. I pay a monthly premium for my car insurance, and it protects me against having to pay out large sums of money if I would be in a bad car accident. I don’t expect, however, my car insurance provider to pay for an oil change or new battery. Likewise, I pay a yearly premium for my home owner’s insurance, yet I do not expect the insurance company to foot the bill if I need a new screen door – but I certainly will turn to them if a tree crashes through my garage during a bad storm.
Then why should I expect my health insurance to pick up every small, day-to-day health issue that I have, particularly those that can cost less then $150, like a well-woman physical, help with pink eye, a tick bite or extricating a fish hook?
Don’t get me wrong; I feel that health insurance is a must to protecting anyone’s financial assets against a potentially catastrophic health event, like a tragic accident or illness. We all need to be ensured that we will not go broke if we are faced with such health issues.
I currently work for a primary care practice, DocTalker, is built to deliver affordable access to our medical team, round the clock, to ensure that our patients save cost and time. Our patients pay for a doctor’s fees when service is rendered. We base the fee structure on time and materials; our patients pay us for the amount of time they spend with the medical team. An office visit typically lasts for 15 minutes and costs $75. Believe it or not, roughly 75% of our patients pay less than $300 per year for their primary and urgent care health issues. I know of a lot of people who pay that in one office visit to the vet!
Our philosophy is that the faster we can talk to and treat our patients, the faster they will get better, thus saving them time and money from lost work, not to mention saving them in expenses from waiting to treat a condition that can worsen with time (like bronchitis). Once we’ve met with a patient face-to-face, we offer phone and email consultations, which typically cost $50.
The other thought is that if people pay, out-of-pocket, for their day-to-day care problems, then they will be more like to be aware of the cost and quality of the care they receive – much like they are with that vast majority of other purchases that they make, from a car to cell phone service to food. This will cause the consumer to demand a higher quality of care for a better price, and will lead to consumer choice and thus to consumer’s driving the market.
I don’t think that a price tag of $300 for the care of majority of primary and urgent care problems is really that much to ask; after all, many of us pay this much when we have a plumber come to the house to unplug a sink.
I think that my health is worth as much as an unplugged sink. I believe we do can it at a less expensive price. Don’t you?
Until next week, I remain yours in primary care,
Valerie Tinley, FNP-BC
September 16th, 2009 by SteveSimmonsMD in Primary Care Wednesdays
Tags: Death Panels, Dr. Steve Simmons, Healthcare reform, Primary Care
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The debate on Health Care Reform has devolved into partisan politics with each side denigrating the ideas of those they oppose instead of objectively searching for real and effective reform. In the September 4 issue of the Washington Post, an Alec MacGillis’ article “The Unwitting Birthplace of the ‘Death Panel’ Myth” shows how partisan politics brought about the destruction of a very good idea. The piece details how those on the far Right disingenuously represented a provision in the House Health Care Bill to compensate physicians for time spent counseling their patients about end-of-life decisions.
I’d like to add a physicians’ perspective to both Mr. MacGillis’s story and an important aspect of life … death. I applaud the efforts of those who tried to have this provision added to the HC Reform Bill and believe that it supported the doctor-patient relationship while trying to preserve the dignity of human life. I ask: “Are we really supposed to believe that paying physicians to talk to their patients about death will lead to the creation of ‘Death Panels’?”
If you were to collapse right now and an ambulance sped you to a hospital Emergency Room, physicians and nurses would work to save your life, exhausting all options. If you survived a prolonged effort at resuscitation this would likely be your ticket to a stay in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) and with luck you would survive to resume your normal life as you had before. It seems simple, right?
Wrong.
A whole host of what-ifs come to mind. What if you have terminal cancer? What if you are chronically ill? What if you have already spent months in an intensive care unit and desired never to experience that again? What if you are left brain dead, to be characterized euphemistically as being in a persistent vegetative state? Would you want your body to be kept alive, cast adrift without your mind to steer it?
I could go on and never run out of possible what-if scenarios. That’s what you have your doctor for and if you haven’t talked to your primary care doctor about scenarios specific to you, then you have surrendered control of how you die to a combination of chance and the decisions of your family. Furthermore, you are transferring all responsibility for these decisions from yourself to your loved ones and that includes the guilt that comes with making hard decisions.
Here are three tools that can express your wishes and absolve your loved ones from the burden of near-impossible decisions while also allowing you to protect the dignity of your own life as you alone can truly define:
1. Living Will: A legal document which goes into effect if you can no longer speak for yourself. It will make your wishes regarding a variety of life prolonging medical treatments known to the physicians treating you. One example would include whether or not to be kept alive in a persistent vegetative state by tube feedings. It is also referred to as an advance directive.
2. DNR Order: This stands for “Do Not Resuscitate.” In the event that your heart stops beating or you stop breathing, Emergency Personnel will be required to try to ‘bring you back.’ This includes electric shocks, chest compressions, and putting a tube into your windpipe to breath for you. These invasive techniques can be life-saving but for some patients only delay death for a short period of time. Since being shocked by electricity, having someone break your ribs doing chest compressions, or having a plastic tube in your throat are all painful, one’s doctor should make clear to their patient if these efforts would be futile and a DNR order fully explained. It does not prevent you from being treated.
3. Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care: Families (usually spouses and adult children) can make health care decisions for you if you are unable to. But families tend to disagree and by assigning a power of attorney you have the chance to pick someone whose views more closely match your own or who you trust to follow your own wishes.
It takes time for a physician to adequately answer questions regarding end-of-life decisions and for most primary care doctors today, there is no time for it. I used to be scared to mention a DNR or living will to my patients, aware that doing so could translate into an hour wait for every person scheduled to see me for the rest of the day.
If primary care doctors were reimbursed for time spent discussing end-of-life decisions more people would have living wills and DNRs, and this would pay both financial and ethical dividends to our society. We would not waste so much money on people at the end of their life; and I am quite comfortable stating that to keep someone alive by artificial means when they wouldn’t have wanted it is wasteful. Ethical dividends would include protecting the dignity of human life, easing the emotional burden of loved ones in a time of crisis, and giving some control to individuals in deciding how they die — an unavoidable aspect of life that our society needs to honestly discuss and plan for. We will all die but many of us first suffer needlessly and at great expense because we didn’t plan for it ahead of time.
Until next week, I remain yours in primary care,
Steve Simmons, MD
September 9th, 2009 by AlanDappenMD in Primary Care Wednesdays
Tags: DocTalker, Dr. Alan Dappen, Healthcare reform, primary care wednesday
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As I mentioned in my post last week, Journey of a Pinata Master, The lessons of a piñata party are many and subtle, where children must acquire sufficient skill and insight to reach the highest status. Let me show you how the custom of the Mexican piñata, stuffed with candy and used to placate children, has been adopted unwittingly by the U.S. healthcare system to create the Annual American Healthcare Bash. At this gala, candy replaces money and adults represented by special interest groups fill in for children.
The American Healthcare Bash is hosted yearly by insurance companies and the government. These two organizers start asking for donations. In 2009, the piñata will be stuffed with $2.4 trillion (give or take a few billion). In 1999, the piñata held a measly $1.2 trillion. By 2019, piñata is expected to hold $4 trillion. Party planners already are worried about finding a rope strong enough to hold this massive elephant piñata (or donkey, depending on which animal you prefer to hit).
Donations arrive through taxpayers, employers and anyone willing to gain admission to the festivities. Before the party starts, insurance companies remove 20% of the money as their “set-up fee” for hosting and establish the basic game rules. During the event, they take turns controlling the rope holding the piñata.
Any American who contributed to the party, including everyone over 65, is invited to watch the spectacle as the myriad special interest groups (SIGs) take turns batting the piñata. These SIGs include ad almost infinitum: primary care doctors, nurse practitioners, radiologists, imaging specialists, laboratory services, pharmaceutical companies, durable medical suppliers, lawyers, software engineers for electronic medical records, coders, billers, patient navigators, receptionists, schedulers, nurses, billing specialists, hospital administrators, HIPPA compliance “police,” pay-for-performance analysts, the American Medical Association delegates, and hundreds of other professional organizations and credentialing specialists.
Every year, more SIGs have been invited to the gala for their turn to bash the piñata. Most thank the public for such an extravagant event, repeating the chorus, “Don’t worry what this is costing, we’re not hurting you, we’re going after the piñata.” This piñata promises more loot than any other in America.
One by one, players are blindfolded and spun in dizzying circles by the insurance companies or government. Patients start the play and then hand we doctors the bat saying, “Good luck! Give your best shot at whacking what you can from that piñata! I could care less because I’m “protected” by my insurance plan.”
Each player swings wildly, sometimes accidentally bashing the others crowding around the bobbing target. The crowd roars its approval while some SIGs scream instructions of where to aim as the batter swings away. The rope jerking increases as more skilled batters take their turn. When money pours from the breaking hull of the piñata, hordes of SIGs dive in a feeding frenzy. After decades of careful construction, the piñata has been compartmentalized so that no single player can knock out too much money at once.
As the party winds down, most SIGs have received a “fair “ amount of money, but they are angry, never satisfied with their share. Of course, there are a few masters in the crowd, who are grinning ear-to-ear. When the party closes, the insurance companies take the piñata to another room and remove, behind closed doors, the remaining money (profit) of the day.
After counting its loot, the insurance companies emerge, announcing that it’s been another successful party, drinks all around! Then they say, “The party next year will cost only 8% more. Before you leave tonight, pay up.” Feeling threatened, taxpayers and employers reach deep into their pockets to pay for next year’s gala. Why ruin a great American tradition? If you get sick or don’t pay “your fair dues,” then hasta la vista.
As we grow up, most of us move past the need to gorge candy. Contrarily, when it comes to healthcare, few can limit how much they want to consume, nor recognize its often empty promises. Americans watch with fascinated horror at what’s happening in healthcare while remaining paralyzed to move cohesively towards change.
No matter how well intended and dedicated the doctors and nurses or how amazing the technology and medical breakthroughs to which the “insured” have access, the unrelenting piñata party lure inevitably results in a mass psychology of “How much money can I make?”
If you, dear reader, are scared of change and continue to support the current American healthcare piñata party, then be prepared to be beaten to a pulp. Now that you’ve paid your $20 co-pay entrance fee to the party and have emptied your wallet to the insurance company for what you believe is unlimited access to care, you have unwittingly turned yourself into the piñata.
Personally, after lots of experience and practice, I developed a healthy cynicism regarding the greed of this kind of parties. Ten years ago, I no longer could support the American Healthcare Bash. We built a new practice where the only focus is the patient; the patient pays transparently for the time they need. This idea delivers better care, 24/7 immediate access whenever and wherever you need help at a price that is almost 50% less than the current model. We need a lot more healthcare professionals and patients to invest in a new future of responsibility. A growing mantra is needed among patients and doctors alike, ”Do the right thing, for the right reason at the right price.” Unlimited wealth, and unlimited health are nothing but mirages, the deepest secret of all stuffed inside the piñata.
Until next week, I remain yours in primary care,
Alan Dappen, MD
September 2nd, 2009 by AlanDappenMD in Primary Care Wednesdays
Tags: Dr. Alan Dappen, Healthcare reform, Primary Care, primary care wednesday
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My early childhood memories hit and miss like a receding dream until four years of age when I boarded my first airplane flight. Our family landed in Mexico City to live. The experience was the first of many jolts which awakened my dreamy complaisant memory.
Within weeks I started kindergarten. That first day was filled by my ceaseless crying. Much to my relief, I had mastered the art of playing hooky by the next morning. A week later I matriculated into the American school. Scary but at least fifty percent of the day was in English. It wasn’t long before a Mexican classmate invited me to his birthday party, complete with a piñata. I was too young then to understand that a piñata holds as much in life metaphors as candy and little did I realize then that this metaphor would resurface again in my life decades later as the efforts to reform the embattled U.S. healthcare system.
Like so many things that first year in Mexico, the piñata held excitement mystery and possibility. At that first party I was an eyewitness to a mob. The instant the piñata broke open the school of piranha-like children devoured the innards so fast that I was left dejected, clutching only a little scrap given to “the gringo” by some benevolent adult.
At the next party, when it was piñata, time, I was in the mix; I dove in before the final coup de grace and caught a piece of the bat. My strategy turned upon being first one in but missing the bat, only to learn that this transferred the piñata to the one embracing almost all the candy. I was jumped, kicked, whacked, gouged, and crushed to smithereens while all those greedy hands and bodies piled on me and plied the precious treasure for my hands. Once again I emerged with tears and a few scraps.
Finally by the fourth party I’d gotten adept with the bat and with a super satisfying whack disintegrated “the Toro” to shreds. Pay dirt at last. By the time, my blindfold was off, the scrum was well underway. The school of hard knocks was one more time teaching me a lesson.
Few activities can compete with a piñata party in a child’s imagination. It offers the opportunity of unimaginable candy treasures. After years of practice and experience the master can be picked from the crowd. This child can be seen as cool, calm, and collected. They bat early, never trying to break the treasure open but enough to soften it up. Once back in the pack they make subtle repositioning moves as the batter swings in different directions blindly thrashing at the swaying and bobbing papier-mâché animal idol. At the right moment they dive into the scrum usually coming up with a lot of candy. Winners keepers losers weepers. That’s the rules.
There are many strategies at the piñata party, the imagination of greed can get the best of you when all those marbles (or candy or money) sit inside that single collective pot.
Fifty years later I cannot help but reflect that the rules and spiritual lessons gained within the piñata experience are very applicable to the US healthcare system. With thirty years of healthcare experience I remain awe struck at observing the same sets of behaviors demonstrated at children’s piñata parties.
Be you the patient, doctor, hospital, pharmaceutical company, lawyer, supplier, coder, consultant, or insurance company, each party fully play out their perfect, “what’s in it for me” expression, “Don’t worry what this is costing, we’re just attacking the piñata. Everything in the party has been fully covered. Cracking a few of heads to reach the object of my desire is just good party fun, no offense.” We have become piñatas inside of piñatas, with of course the patient metaphorically becoming the ultimate piñata, after all the party is thrown for each and every one of us willing to pay entrance to the ever increasingly expensive party.
Next week I will start with my personal experience and then move to the global great American health care healthcare piñata gala bash. Let me get the party invitations sent out and also invite you to attend the grand gala 2009 healthcare piñata party.
I’ll let you bring the pinata to my party if I can bring mine to yours.
Until next week I remain sincerely yours in primary care,
Alan Dappen, MD
