Let’s Bring “Quantified Health” to Populations That Need It

This article was originally written for and published by Healthcare Demystified, the healthcare policy and innovation blog of Healthcare.com, where I am a weekly columnist.

Wearable fitness trackers and their complementary smartphone apps are taking the world by storm. There is breathless media coverage and a growing army of gadgets ranging from glorified pedometers to glucose-monitoring contact lenses. While at least one in five Americans now has a wearable device and two thirds intend to use digital tools to track some aspect of their health, and the trend shows no sign of slowing with68.1 million wearable devices estimated to be produced in 2015, the actual health benefits of these tools have not materialized for everyone.

Along those lines, The Washington Post detailed the “revolution” in a lengthy feature earlier this year, and quoted Deborah Estrin, a professor of computer science and public health at Cornell: “Getting the data is much easier than making it useful. […] It’s unclear how important and meaningful it is for the everyday person.”

Part of those underwhelming results might be due to human nature rather than because of the devices themselves. In early July, Megan Garber wrote in The Atlantic about the Ennui of the Fitbit: research indicates that a third of trackers are abandoned within six months and that more than half of people who purchase trackers will ultimately abandon them. With the case of Fitbit, which commands more than three-quarters of the market for wearable health technology in terms of revenue, just 10 million of the company’s 20 million registered users are still active.

People stick to habits and use devices that add some kind of value to their lives. For a young and relatively healthy person, Fitbits and similar gadgets might be alluring and nice to have, but can quickly lose their luster. For a few people, having an up-to-the-minute accounting of steps taken, calories consumed, weight recorded, and hours slept would inspire positive behavior change. For most others, it might become annoying and perhaps create more stress.

Mobile technology has long become mainstream, and people from all walks of life are on board, but the tech industry appears to be designing wearable health gadgets almost exclusively for the folks described as “young invincibles” or “worried well.” As such, the actual health-improving mechanism is sometimes given less attention than the development of attractive user interfaces and slick marketing campaigns.

How might we move past seeing these devices as mere entertainment value or social capital and increase adoption among people who are elderly, low-resource or have poor health status – and especially for those who check all three boxes? Making cool and informative devices that people enjoy using is undoubtedly a good thing, and such business should continue to thrive as long as the free market rewards these products, but we are not taking advantage of a major opportunity to invest in bringing wearable devices and other personal health technology to the populations that are often not included in the “target market” section of startup pitch decks. These inspired startups and their investors could make a real impact with populations that have the most “health to gain.”

How could these current leaders of innovation in healthcare spread their services to populations that are more in need of support? Rachel Davis, a senior program officer at the Center for Health Care Strategies (CHCS), explored the idea in a Health Affairs post in 2014. She cited research that found high adoption of smartphones among people making less than $30,000 per year, and CHCS focus groups suggested that lower-income populations would be receptive to increased use of digital health technology to track and manage chronic conditions.

Davis identified five principles issues that impact healthcare access for these populations: lack of consistent contact with health providers and technology, fragmented health care across settings, difficulty managing complex medication regimens, managing health needs reactively instead of proactively, and difficulty accessing transportation to and from appointments.

The exploding world of digital health startups is showing an interest in solving these problems of low-income, complex patients. The Robert Wood Johnson Foundation (RWJF) granted $500,000 to accelerator StartupHealth, which has more than 100 startup companies in its portfolio, to “make it easier for digital health entrepreneurs to develop […] products and services to meet the unique needs of [underserved] communities.”

One startup called Health ELT is building its entire value proposition on bringing “engagement, logistics and technology services” to Medicaid populations. The organization’s pilot study last year in Texas, involving 1,000 patients covered under a Medicaid managed care organization, nearly doubled engagement rates, cut emergency department admissions in half, and reduced hospital admissions by more than 35 percent. “Technology is transformative and critical to progress,” said Amanda Havard, Chief Innovations Officer at Health ELT, in an email. “We can’t keep affording that progress only to healthy and resourced populations.”

Havard has some advice for entrepreneurs who are new to healthcare and want to make an impact on elderly or low-resource populations: “Get to know the population. Get to know the system. Learn the obnoxious routes of red tape. Log time with people who know infinitely more about the industry than you do. Too often technologists roll their eyes at that. They think if they build a good enough product, then it will do what it’s meant to. This is a fallacy if you want to innovate in regulated industries. You must be willing to spend the time, energy, money, and intellectual space to learn about the industry you want to change so that the change you make is a relevant one.”

Public-private partnerships could combine private-sector ingenuity with the public-sector reach into disadvantaged communities. For one, the new Center for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation (CMMI), which wields immense influence over the finance and delivery of healthcare services to the elderly, poor and disabled, could serve as a translational intermediary between the innovative companies and the communities where need is high but access to good-quality care is low.

Apple, which is now becoming a power player in the quantified and mobile health space with its new Health app, has demonstrated a commitment to using its resources and broad user base for meaningful ends with ResearchKit, a software platform that allows medical research subjects to submit data that is collected by their iPhones. The program launched several months ago, and since then more than 75,000 subjects have enrolled in mobile health studies related to asthma, Parkinson’s Disease, diabetes, breast cancer, and heart disease. In some cases, a smartphone enables a level of precision and convenience that patient testing within a facility cannot offer. Consider one diagnostic used in the Parkinson’s Study and described by the lead researcher, Dr. Ray Dorsey, of the University of Rochester Medical Center: “One test […] measures the speed at which participants tap their fingers in a particular sequence on the iPhone’s touchscreen. [That’s] more objective than a process still used in clinics, where doctors watch patients tap their fingers and assign them a numerical score.”

The ResearchKit concept is powerful because it enables patients to contribute to medical research in a more convenient way. The barriers to participation in research studies – inability to take time off work or travel long distances – are significantly diminished. For lower-income and sicker people, who experience these barriers most often, such technology could facilitate more representation in important medical research studies.

Healthcare technology, and the mobile and wearable health space in particular, is receiving an enormous amount of attention and funding. The excitement is warranted – our ability to collect and analyze data is advancing alongside our understanding of biomedical diseases, treatments, and the social and economic factors that influence them. While the free market should reward those who invent the next cool thing, we also should not discount the potential of this technology to make a different in places where it is needed most.

More People Think They Are Covered by Health Insurance – But Is It Good Enough?

This article was originally written for and published by by Healthcare Demystified, the healthcare policy and innovation blog of Healthcare.com, where I am a weekly columnist.

Since 2008, the government’s healthcare focus has been to help uninsured people find coverage. However, a new problem has emerged with devastating consequences for everyday Americans. More than 30 million people in this country are underinsured, meaning that their out-of-pocket costs exceed 10 percent of their income. That means that almost one quarter of the non-elderly, insured population is in a situation where their medical bills are a financial burden – the kind of burden that insurance is supposed to take care of in the first place.

Although the level of underinsurance has risen since 2003, the Affordable Care Act (ACA)’s broad efforts to reduce uninsurance might actually make this underinsurance problem worse: the new plans sold on the marketplaces often have lower up-front premiums in exchange for higher deductibles (out-of-pocket costs) when patients seek care. The lower the metal level of the plan (i.e. gold, silver, bronze) the higher the deductible. Patients who select silver and bronze plans in order to have affordable premiums are often unable to afford the higher deductibles that come up down the road. Most of the time, patients do not realize that they are making this trade-off until the medical bills arrive after an expensive hospital stay or specialist visit.

People are more or less likely to be underinsured based on the kind of insurance plan they have. It would be natural to think that most underinsured people have Medicare or Medicaid plans, but a survey from The Commonwealth Fund found that 59 percent of people who are underinsured have employer-sponsored coverage. Put a different way, a full 20 percent of people who have insurance through their jobs are underinsured. This fact goes against the conventional wisdom that people who have insurance through their employer have adequate coverage.

The level of underinsurance among people who have employer-sponsored insurance has doubled since 2003, but those who purchase individual insurance coverage have become even worse off. Individual plans in the past were all purchased directly from an insurance company or broker, but now the plans are often found and purchased through an marketplace under the ACA. This group has seen its rate of underinsurance more than double since 2003, from 17 percent in 2003 up to 37 percent in 2014. While this group is small, the need for more adequate coverage is great.

What are the consequences of lower quality coverage? Recently a Gallup poll showed that one in three people has “delayed medical treatment for themselves or a family member due to concerns about cost” – a level not seen in 14 years. The Commonwealth Fund has found that, among these 30 million underinsured people, 26 percent skipped a test or treatment and 24 percent did not fill a prescription due to the cost. Making matters worse, people are going into medical debt: half of underinsured beneficiaries report debt of $4,000 or more.

The health and economic costs of underinsurance are even greater among those with chronic conditions. The Commonwealth Fund report found a 30 percent rate of underinsurance among people with chronic conditions – compared with just a 16 percent rate of underinsurance among healthier people. 24 percent of these underinsured, chronically ill patients report avoiding to fill or take a prescription medication – compared to just 7 percent of well-insured adults who also had chronic illnesses. These gaps between underinsured and well-insured people are significant and have persisted, even widened, over the last decade.

It is important to keep in mind that we have been talking about individuals with year-round insurance. The problems related to financial access and the cost of care are magnified for those who are uninsured. And while the number of uninsured is dropping under the Affordable Care Act, the newly insured people are not guaranteed full protection.

Consider the story of Karen, a 55-year-old single woman with two grown children. She lost her job at an advertising firm during the recession and had been uninsured for five years – until the second window of open enrollment in the fall of 2014. She has been earning enough income through freelance work that she does not qualify for Medicaid, but she is close enough to the federal poverty level to receive a subsidy to purchase coverage on her state’s new insurance marketplace. Priding herself on her deal-finding skills, she chooses a plan with a low monthly premium that still seems to provide decent coverage.

Three months after signing up for coverage, Karen visits her primary care physician and learns that she need to switch from the current diabetes medication she is taking to a more powerful, more expensive version to manage her blood glucose level. Undeterred by the extra expense because of her new insurance, she visits the pharmacy to pick up the prescription. She discovers that her plan only covers half of the cost and that, because of her deductible, she will have to pay more than one hundred dollars per month. Now she has a difficult choice between starting the new prescription – and therefore not being able to take as many trips across the country to visit her grown children – or sticking with her current, less effective medication.

While Karen’s story is made up, it is illustrative of the small but significant economic, social and health impact that underinsurance can have on the lives of everyday people.

The issue is starting to attract more attention, especially from Democrats, heading into the 2016 presidential election season. Rep. Jim McDermott (D-Wash) said: “We’ve got some 17 million more people covered … but they can’t access the care they seem to be entitled to. It costs too much to use the care. That’s the deceptive part about it.”

Along the same lines, the New York TimesAaron E. Carroll wrote: “In the quest for universal coverage, it’s important that we not lose sight of ‘coverage’ in order to achieve ‘universal.’ The point of improving access is, after all, to make sure that people can get, and afford, care when they need it.”

The consequences of underinsurance have made it more important to ensure that all consumers understand their insurance plans, from knowing the difference between monthly premiums and out-of-pocket deductibles to knowing their options when faced with a large medical bill. State and federal marketplaces, as well as insurance companies, can and should put more effort into helping people select the right plan for their health needs and financial resources. That is a goal that will benefit all stakeholders – providers, payers and patients – in our healthcare system.

How Patients, Families and Clinicians are Changing End-of-Life Conversations

This article was originally written for and published by Healthcare Demystified, the healthcare policy and innovation blog of Healthcare.com, where I am a weekly columnist.

Imagine this scenario: an elderly woman, Mrs. Jones, is rushed from the nursing home to the hospital one evening. Although she has been in and out of the hospital four times in the past year, this situation is more serious. She has chronic congestive heart failure and the physician believes that she will not survive long without a heroic intervention. If the procedure fails, though, Mrs. Jones could end up needing permanent life support in order to stay alive.

Her children are called in from across the region and are gathered at the hospital within two hours. The decision needs to be made quickly, but none of the children in the room – some of whom have not seen each other on a regular basis in 10 years – are quite sure of what their mother would want if she were conscious and not under a medical coma. Some advocate for doing whatever is necessary to extend her life, while others think she would want to “go with dignity” and receive hospice care in her final hours.

These conversations are happening in emergency rooms across the nation. Many times, families will go through this experience several times with an aging loved one. Decisions around care at the end of life have never been simple, but in recent decades they have taken on new importance as we have devised new methods to prolong life. These methods bring high cost and sometimes diminish quality of life in return.

Consider this stunning fact: one in three Americans has been forced to make a decision about whether to keep a loved one alive using extraordinary means. These measures are seldom in accordance with patient values or preferences – most patients want to die in their homes, but most end up dying in the hospital – and the medical world is asking itself tough questions: who decides what happens in these life-and-death matters, and how should the complicated web of decisions be navigated?

Even more important, though, is to have conversations with family members and doctors to get on the same page before a crisis emerges. According to the Conversation Project, a non-profit wants to encourage and facilitate end-of-life dialogue, 90 percent of people acknowledge the importance of having end-of-life conversations but only 27 percent do so.

I spoke with Ellen Goodman, who is the co-founder of the Conversation Project and a former Pulitzer Prize-winning, nationally-syndicated columnist for the Boston Globe.

“Death no longer comes in a way we used to think of as natural,” she says. “Instead, it comes with a cascading number of choices and decisions. We believe that the first step is to have these conversations with the people you love at the kitchen table.”

Goodman and her team put together a “Conversation Starter Kit” that guides patients and their families through these difficult discussions. The guide asks general questions – “What matters to me at the end of life is…” – and becomes more specific about the patient’s preferred place of care (hospital or home), desired length of life-sustaining care, and more. Over 200,000 people across all 50 states and in 176 countries have downloaded the starter kit.

While these conversations are vital to have with loved ones, Goodman sees a disconnect between patients’ convictions and the healthcare delivery system. She hopes that the starter kit could be used during wellness visits. “Doctors, at this point, have no training in these conversations and are universally uncomfortable with them. It’s important that doctors get paid for talking and not just for procedures. If you’re paying doctors to do these 900 different things, procedure after procedure, who talks about when enough is enough? It’s only right to encourage doctors to know how their patients feel: when they want extreme measures and when they want to limit them.”

There are options for families who want to have these proactive discussions and help elderly family members receive care that is consistent with their values. The most common method is through an advance directive, also known as a living will.

The living will is a legal document that spells out how a person wants to be treated if he or she is unable to make decisions for him or herself – for example, while in a coma, on life support, or with brain damage. However, family members and caregivers might make decisions in the hospital without adhering to a living will, if one even exists, due to miscommunication or because the patient’s wishes for the situation at hand were not detailed in the living will.

Ellen Goodman emphasizes the importance of a “health care proxy”, which is someone who is empowered to make appropriate decisions on behalf of a relative or close friend. “There’s no checklist on Earth that can cover every medical possibility for someone who is facing serious illness. There just isn’t. So we have to find somebody who understands what matters to us and understands our values, and the conditions under which we want extreme measures and the conditions under which we don’t,” says Goodman.

Surveys indicate that many people, especially those who are not yet old, have not created living wills. In 2014, a representative survey with nearly 8,000 respondents indicated that just over a quarter (26.3 percent) of Americans have prepared such documents. Despite these low levels of planning among young people, three quarters of older Americans have made advance directives. The number has grown considerablysince 2000, when less than half had done so. However, that still leaves a significant minority who have not formally expressed their wishes.

The movement to make these conversations more normalized and accessible for patients was hampered in 2009 by the “death panels” label that was applied to a proposal to fund end-of-life conversations between Medicare patients and their physicians. However, some new efforts are emerging: the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) has proposed a plan to fund unlimited end-of-life care conversations for patients and their caregivers – not just physicians, but nurse practitioners and assistants as well. The agency expects to release final rules for the benefit in November.

CMS’ chief medical officer, Dr. Patrick Conway, said that end-of-life conversations are “an important part of patient- and family-centered care” and said that the program would not just fund one conversation, but as many as necessary to help patients and their providers work through such a sensitive topic of discussion.

The emphasis on improving the process to be more patient-friendly, provider-friendly and useful is important. Living wills have been around for almost 50 years, but the format and purpose of these documents has evolved as the general public and the healthcare industry become more familiar with them. Recent efforts have sought to help living wills wield more influence over actual care provided in the final stretches of life.

The answer, some say, has arrived in a form called POLST, which stands for Physician Orders for Life-Sustaining Treatment. The form covers the patient’s values, beliefs and care goals along with the physician’s diagnosis, prognosis and treatment options. Filling out the POLST form, which is a collaborative effort between a patient and physician, creates a medical order that becomes part of the patient’s personal health record.

The form is simple to understand and fill out (see California’s POLST form here), but it goes into enough detail to provide an authoritative guide for future care decisions. And critically, the form captures cultural and religious beliefs that are central to the way in which patients make decisions about life-and-death matters. However, POLST has a limitation: it is only for people who have already been diagnosed with a serious condition.

Even with all these new programs and approaches, there are some coordination gaps to resolve. “If you have an advance directive in one state and you get sick in another state, it may not be shared and known,” Ellen Goodman points out. “In fact, if you have an advance directive in one healthcare system and you get sick in another healthcare system, it may not be known. There have to be ways of having those directives available when the time comes.”

We must do more to align patients’ values and wishes with the treatment they end up receiving. That means making it easier for patients and their families have end-of-life conversations and to document the wishes in a medically useful format that follows the patient across care settings – and across time, as patients’ values can change as the end of life approaches. Anything short of that future state will add to the level of physical pain and emotional stress endured by patients and their families during the most vulnerable and sensitive moments of their lives.

“We need to realize that Americans face the healthcare system with two conflicting fears: one is that they won’t get the care they need and the other is that they’ll get care they don’t want,” says Goodman. “Let’s put the patient at the center of this conversation. By listening to that person, we will be able to have their wishes expressed and respected.”

Goodman is right. Through listening, understanding and encouragement, we can make the end-of-life care system work for everyone – patients, families and clinicians.

The Transportation Barrier: When You Don’t Have a Ride to the Doctor’s Office

This article is cross-posted from my article originally published in The Atlantic in August 2015.

Around midnight on a rainy Saturday two summers ago, a 60-year-old man wandered into the waiting area of the North Carolina hospital where I worked as an emergency-room volunteer. He had just been discharged, he told me, adding that his vision was messed up from medication. He had arrived in an ambulance several hours ago, but didn’t have money for a bus ride home. He lived with his disabled mother, who was unable to drive, and had no family close by.

I pointed him towards the admissions-and-discharge station to see if someone there could help him. He went over to explain his situation to the nurse in charge—but the hospital, she told him, could not pay for his bus or cab fare: “The system just cannot handle that expense for everyone,” she said.

The man grew visibly frustrated. After getting the same answer from a few more members of the hospital staff, he seemed to give up. He paced the waiting room, looking out the windows at the rainy night outside. It wasn’t obvious what condition had brought him to the hospital, but now he was off-balance and staggering. I watched him from my station across the waiting room, concerned that the hospital could do nothing to help him get home.

When my shift ended a few minutes later, the man was still standing near the window, seemingly without a plan. I approached him and asked whether the hospital had figured something out for him. He said they had not.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

He described an area that was about eight miles away, on the other side of town from the hospital but not far from my home.

“I might try to walk,” he said.

A vision-impaired, older man trying to walk eight miles, at night, in the rain—no part of it seemed like a good idea. “Do you want me to give you a ride home?” I asked. “My shift just ended.”

Around 20 minutes later, I pulled up in front of his home, and we shook hands and parted ways. It was lucky, I thought as I drove away, that I was in the right place at the right time. But how often do patients stranded at the hospital experience the same good fortune?

Past research on health care access has examined the ways in which distance can present a problem for people in rural areas, but poorer people in suburban and urban settings, even though they may live closer to a doctor or hospital, can still have trouble with transportation. Some households don’t have a vehicle, or share one among multiple family members. As Gillian White noted in The Atlantic in May, low-income neighborhoods are hit particularly hard by shoddy transportation infrastructure—subways may not service areas on the fringes of a city, buses may be unreliable, and both are vulnerable to strikes or service suspensions. And for those who are disabled, obese, or chronically ill, riding the bus or the subway can be a difficult undertaking.

As a result, some people may find themselves without a way home after an emergency trip to the hospital, or miss a doctor’s appointment simply because they don’t have a way to get there. In a 2001 survey of 413 adults living at or below 125 percent of the federal poverty level in Cleveland, Ohio, published in the journal Health & Social Care in the Community, researchers found that almost one-third of respondents reported that it was “hard” or “very hard” to find transportation to their health care providers—a problem that can mean more than a few missed checkups. A survey of 593 cancer patients in Texas, published in the journal Cancer Practice in 1997, found that in some cases, trouble with transportation led patients to forgo their cancer treatments. The problem was especially prevalent among minority survey respondents; 55 percent of African American and 60 percent of Hispanic survey respondents reported that transportation was a major barrier to treatment, compared to 38 percent of white respondents.

More recently, a 2012 survey of 698 low-income patients in a New York City suburb reported that patients who rode the bus to the doctor’s office were twice as likely to miss appointments as patients who drove cars. And in 2013, a review published in the Journal of Community Health found that around 25 percent of lower-income patients have missed or rescheduled their appointments due to lack of transportation. The patients who reported issues with transportation also missed filling prescriptions more than twice as often as patients without that same problem. “These consequences may lead to poorer management of chronic illness and thus poorer health outcomes,” the study authors wrote.

In some situations, patients without transportation access may wait for a medical emergency just to be able to see a doctor, explained Shreya Kangovi, a professor of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania. “Mr. Jones might have a disability that makes it difficult for him to use public transportation, so he has been waiting until he’s really sick, short of breath, and then calling an ambulance because there is no other good way to get care,” she said.

“If a patient can’t get to see their health-care team, then it’s a domino effect,” said Samina Syed, the lead author of the 2013 study and an endocrinologist in Madison, Wisconsin. “Missed appointments mean that they can’t address their questions and concerns, or update physicians on changes in their health history or life circumstances,” a situation that can be particularly worrisome for patients with diabetes and other chronic diseases that require ongoing active care.

Some health-care providers are trying to lessen the problem by employing community health workers (CHWs), people who help patients navigate the health care system. CHWs, who typically don’t have health-care backgrounds, will coordinate transportation for patients to and from appointments, motivate them to take their medications, and help them implement positive lifestyle habits. In 2014, there were an estimated 50,000 CHWs in the U.S.

A 2003 report on health disparities from the Institute of Medicine praised the CHW model, declaring that it “offer[s] promise … to increase racial and ethnic minorities’ access to health care” and improve their quality of care. Some research has supported this idea: One 2007 study found, for example, that CHWs can help patients better manage their hypertension, and a 2014 study found that patients who worked with CHWs scheduled more primary-care follow-up appointments than those who didn’t.

Some hospitals and physicians also use care coordinators: people who, unlike CHWs, are trained in a health-related field, most often social workers or nurses. These coordinators support groups of low-income or chronically ill patients, helping them to understand their care plans and schedule primary-care visits instead of making trips to the E.R.

Although a significant number of patients, especially those with few resources, struggle to find consistent and reliable transportation, there are some options for those who know how to find them. Each state has a “non-emergency medical transport” benefit for people with Medicaid, covering a certain number of rides per month, and some Medicare Advantage plans also cover a limited number of trips each year (eligibility for this benefit varies by state). Some states contract with local companies to provide rides; others enlist volunteers, or hire taxis. Some private insurers have followed suit, taking similar steps to make transportation more accessible for their clients, though this may involve co-pays or put policyholders through a lengthy bureaucratic process to prove their need for the benefit. In many cases, non-emergency rides must also be requested several days in advance.

In some cases, the restrictions surrounding these transportation programs can prevent patients from taking advantage of them. The patient I encountered in the ER at midnight, for example, did not have the luxury of planning his ride home in advance. No one who undergoes emergency hospitalization has the benefit of foresight for planning how they might leave. And patients who are receiving planned care at the doctor’s office or in an outpatient setting might not be aware of the resources available to them through their public or private insurance plan. Low-income patients—the same group most affected by transportation barriers—are also likelier to lack health literacy, making it harder for them to navigate the web of regulations required to get a ride.

“If you have health-literacy issues and if you don’t have good access to care to begin with, you’re not going to be able to fill out the application and get your provider to fill out their side of it,” Kangovi said. “Barriers like that, which seem small and detailed, end up being insurmountable barriers for patients.”

Often, doctors may not even realize that their patients have problems with transportation, Syed said, since patients can be embarrassed or otherwise hesitant to raise the issue. “There are things patients might not tell you, or that you don’t ask them, and so they just hear from the doctor that you shouldn’t miss your appointments, and they say, ‘Okay,’” she said. “But there is more to it that is beyond their control.”

“You can provide the best care in the world,” she added, “but it doesn’t matter if the patient has no way to get to it.”

© 2015 Cronk, as first published in The Atlantic