Are We Witnessing the End of the Pharmacy Benefit Manager?

As much as we’d like to think that every player in the healthcare marketplace is an integral part of the team, contributing to the health and well-being of our employees and saving employers money, it’s becoming harder and harder to support the ongoing abuses of pharmacy benefit managers, or PBMs. I won’t rehash them here. You can find past opinions about them in other posts.

Two discoveries this week at KBGH make me wonder if we’re witnessing the end of the PBM model. First, in a (unfortunately paywalled) editorial in the New England Journal of Medicine, Leemore Dafny describes the business model of a new drug company called “Civica.” Civica was launched in 2018 by seven health care delivery systems and three philanthropies to address chronic shortages of generic drugs, like IV antibiotics and sedatives, that are essential to inpatient care. Civica has since grown to sell about 50 generic injectable drugs to more than 1,500 hospital members. Their newest venture is the production of three “biosimilar” insulins (aspart, lispro, and glargine, which you may know better by their brand names Humalog, Novolog, and Lantus) that make up about 80% of the insulin market.

Here’s the important part: Civica intends to make its insulins available to “all U.S. pharmacies at the same wholesale price and on identical terms.” Everybody gets the same price, and Civica won’t engage in the usual PBM “rebate” trickery. It will print wholesale prices and the manufacturer’s suggested retail price right on the packaging! That MSRP will represent more than an 80% reduction from prices we’re accustomed to paying through PBMs, who keep about 60% of our money as “rebates” and other chicanery. The MSRP for a pack of five insulin glargine (a.k.a. Lantus) pens will be $55. Dafny invites us to compare that to the usual list prices of $425 for Lantus, $404 for Semglee, and $148 for unbranded Semglee.

The second cloud on the horizon for the future of traditional PBMs is Mark Cuban’s online pharmacy CostPlusDrugs.com. Instead of eliminating the PBM, Cuban has simply made the pharmacy and the PBM one and the same, with fully transparent pricing.

I don’t think we can carve the gravestone for PBMs yet; they surely have new tricks up their sleeves, and I expect legal action to be part of their strategy to try to delay companies like Civica from acting too quickly. But the tradewinds against the old, predatory PBM model seem to be blowing harder and harder. “This plan is straightforward: sell a drug at cost and at the same price to all buyers,” says Dafny of Civica. If only other health services operated the same way.

Quick tip of the hat to Drs. Bob Badgett, MD, and Kevin Wissman, PharmD, at the University of Kansas School of Medicine-Wichita for alerting us to these.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

How much of your care is planned?

Your doctor should be using “pre-visit” planning to make sure that your care is proactive, not purely reactive. Here’s how the American Medical Association says we should do it:

  1. Your next visit should be set before you leave the clinic at your current visit. This should include scheduling any needed labs or x-rays. Unfortunately, not all electronic health records (EHRs) allow for proactive lab scheduling, so your doctor’s staff may need to use a look backward strategy, where a staff person orders labs according to a protocol based on your medications and diagnoses a few days before the next appointment. Regardless, you should have repeat labs and imaging available when your next appointment comes around.

  2. Before your next appointment, someone from the clinic–often a nurse or MA–should contact other providers you may be seeing to get results of testing or treatments they may have performed. Ideally, copies of these results should be shared with you.

  3. You should have the chance to check your status on preventive health between visits so you know what to ask your doctor about when you arrive at the next visit. This helps to identify “gaps in care,” like immunizations or screenings. Some clinics develop checklists like this one from Better Health While Aging. While this list is geared toward the primary care of aging patients, other providers like orthopedists, oncologists, or cardiologists may have specialty- or disease-specific checklists.

  4. You should get a reminder of any upcoming visits, either by email, text, or phone call, at your preference.

  5. A list of your current medications should be provided to you upon check-in so you can review the medication list for errors. This can be either a paper copy or a copy through the clinic’s “portal.”

  6. A review of your medications may be paired with a pre-visit questionnaire to see if you have new medications, problems, or symptoms that can start to be evaluated even before the doctor sees you. Here’s an example from the American Academy of Family Physicians.

  7. Your clinic’s staff and your doctor should hold a pre-clinic “huddle” to anticipate some of your needs and gaps in care so that the first time they consider these problems isn’t the moment you step into the lobby.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

The cost of medical care is poisoning us

According to Moore’s dictum (newly minted by me, although I’ve had the idea for a long time), appropriate medical care must meet one of three criteria: either it makes us feel better, it makes us live longer, or it saves us money. But these three criteria exist in a state of conflict. Chemotherapy certainly doesn’t make us feel better. It often causes hair loss, nausea, rashes, low blood counts, and other unseemly side effects, sometimes for months or years at a time. But we accept chemotherapy’s toxicity in exchange for a chance at a longer life. Ditto the discomfort and inconvenience of surgery. And some therapies that make us feel better in the short term may also shorten our lives (though, paradoxically, some hospice services may actually prolong life). 

Unfortunately, chemotherapy not only drains our energy level, but it is also likely to drain our bank account, and for modest life gains. New therapies for cancers often cost tens of thousands of dollars per month in exchange for an anticipated life prolongation of less than a year. That extra year may be precious, and I don’t mean to minimize it. But the cost adds up. For a drug costing ~$14,000 per month, a patient may have a copayment of ~$3,000 or more per month. Patients on Medicare, our national socialized medicine for elders, who are newly diagnosed with cancer incur out-of-pocket spending averaging 23.7 percent of their household income. Ten percent of Medicare folks with cancer have out-of-pocket spending equivalent to almost two-thirds of their household income. And for those of us not on Medicare, 40% of whom would not be able to find $400 in cash in an emergency, the cost is likely completely out of reach. So it’s no surprise that medical bankruptcy accounts for almost two-thirds of all U.S. family bankruptcy filings or that patients with cancer are 2.5 times as likely as non-cancer patients to file for bankruptcy. 

For many patients, this financial toxicity is as feared as the physical toxicity of the drugs themselves. One of my physician colleagues darkly refers to the medical-industrial complex as being in the business of “farming sick people for money.” Elements of cancer care seem to confirm his suspicions. Financial toxicity is a big enough problem that the National Cancer Institute devotes a section of its website to helping patients navigate it. 

We shouldn’t just care about the topic because of our humanitarian impulses. We should care about its second-order effects. Financial distress, or even the fear of it, is associated with delayed initiation of treatment, limited patient adherence to treatment, and abandonment of recommended treatment. This is horrifying, and it’s not limited to cancer care. Here’s a model of how it might play out in heart disease, where financial toxicity has similarly been linked to poor outcomes: 

Financial Toxicity in Atherosclerotic Cardiovascular Disease in the United States: Current State and Future Directions (nih.gov)

Many are calling for greater adoption of the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation’s Oncology Care Model, which identifies care navigation and connection of patients to resources as core functions of medical practice. But in spite of research demonstrating clear value, not every practice has a care navigator because of the lack of a sustainable model for reimbursement.

A potential strategy that may meet the Oncology Care Model halfway is the use of “community health workers,” laypersons with an intimate knowledge of specific populations that may be served by a practice. If a doctor has a hard time connecting with recent Vietnamese immigrants in her practice, for example, a Vietnamese-speaking CHW who has knowledge of the religion and culture of the region from which the patients immigrated may be able to work with them on shared decision-making around things like transportation, diet, adherence to medications, and even end-of-life planning. 

[disclosure: the Kansas Business Group on Health has CDC funding related to increased adoption of community health workers]

Does your employee policy cover care navigation, or do you have personal experience with a community health worker? If so, we’d love to hear about it. If not, we’d love to help.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

When is the last time you taught your doctor something?

An average visit to a primary care doctor addresses about three primary complaints, like back pain, blood pressure, fatigue, cough, and the like. Each of those problems may have a pretty complex workup and therapeutic plan, so it is no surprise that people often leave their doctor’s office with a muddled idea of what they’re supposed to do next. Forty to eighty percent of what is discussed in doctor’s visits is forgotten immediately, and almost half of the information retained is incorrect. To fight this problem, Medicare (CMS) requires that doctors supply a summary of the visit on paper within three business days of the visit, but the summaries generated by many electronic health records are jumbled messes of computer-generated tech-speak gobbledygook. Some patients go so far as to secretly record medical visits, a practice that has been condemned by people within and outside the medical community. But, sensing an opportunity, clever apps to facilitate consensual recordings, like Abridge, have cropped up.

 But less tech-oriented doctors are interested in a more analog method called “teach-back.” You may know this better as how you make sure your teenagers have heard you when you ask them to mow the lawn; the phrase “repeat what I just said” may ring a bell. But don’t be insulted if your doctor uses the same technique with you. Entire websites and continuing medical education enterprises have been built on teaching it.

 Recently, investigators writing in the Journal of Primary Care & Community Health analyzed six years of data on 2,901 patients with diabetes from the Medical Expenditure Panel Survey (MEPS), a data collection of access, utilization, and payments for American patients. They were able to link the MEPS data to data on hospital inpatient stays. They specifically looked for two pieces of information about doctor visits: 1) did the patient receive medical instruction which was easy to understand, and 2) was the patient asked to describe how to follow the instructions given. If both answers were “yes,” the patient was designated as having had a “teach-back experience.”

 To determine the quality of the patient-doctor interaction that went along with these teach-backs, they looked for several questions that looked into patients’ perceptions of the provider’s listening, respect, time utilization, and the patient’s “global satisfaction.” And, if the survey data showed that the provider helped decide between treatment options and showed respect for the patient’s preference, “shared decision-making” was believed to have taken place.

 Finally, patients were asked about their perceived confidence in their diabetes treatment plan, and the likelihood of having complications (like eye, heart, or kidney problems) or hospitalization related to diabetes within two years was calculated.

 What the investigators found was encouraging. Patient teach-back experiences were associated with a lower risk of hospitalization, a higher perceived interaction quality with the provider, more shared decision-making, and a higher likelihood of lifestyle advice having been given. Patients who’d “taught back” to their provider were more confident in their treatment plan.

 So the next time you get a set of instructions from your doctor, take a second and ask her, “Let me repeat that back to you in my own words.” If she affirms that what you just said is true, you’re in good shape. If what you say back to her doesn’t quite match what she intended, you’ll both walk out of the visit having learned something.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Still smoking? Let's game it out.

Do you remember learning about the asymptote in high school geometry? It’s that funny curve that gets closer and closer to a line through infinity, but never actually touches it. We say the curve “asymptotically” approaches zero.

Smokers are a little like this. As the rate of smoking asymptotically approaches zero, we are left with a population that is more and more “hardened” in its smoking habit. Around 70% of current smokers have no interest in quitting. So the smoking behaviors of the ~14% of people still smoking now are, person-for-person, harder to change than they were in the much larger fraction of the population who smoked five years ago. That is, as the population of smokers shrinks, it becomes ever harder to get the remaining smokers to stop. So most studies of smoking interventions like drugs, nicotine replacement, or therapy, ignore people who express little interest in quitting. Coordinators for most studies instead recruit people whose “readiness to change” is higher:

But a new study (paywall) takes this population of hardened smokers head-on with, of all things, a video game. Investigators recruited 433 smokers who reported they were not ready to quit. They randomized the smokers to get usual care with nicotine replacement therapy lozenges, or to get access to nicotine replacement therapy plus “Take a Break,” a 3-week mobile “game experience” that included 5 behavioral components: motivational messaging, challenge quizzes, brief abstinence goal setting, mobile health apps for cravings management (three “relaxation” apps were offered), and reward points for participation (in the form of gift cards).

To determine if the game had an effect, they looked at the time to their first quit attempt and tested carbon monoxide levels at 6 months to verify any claims of smoking cessation (smoking increases carbon monoxide levels in your blood, which, blech).

Apps are tricky because people tend to lose interest pretty quickly. Only about half of the game participants got through 100% of their daily challenge quizzes in the first week in the study. Roughly three-fourths set a brief abstinence goal of 1-2 days away from cigarettes, and 75% used the apps to manage their nicotine cravings. The game-treated participants set a sooner “time to quit,” and at six months, 18% (28 of 160) of game participants versus 10% (17 of 171) of nicotine replacement-only participants had carbon monoxide level–verified smoking cessation, roughly a doubling of the likelihood of smoking cessation once the fancy statistical analysis was done.

Those numbers look kind of sad, but remember that we’re talking about a very difficult population in the study, people who had expressed almost no interest in changing at the study’s onset. Through that lens, this is really a remarkable outcome, albeit in a small study. The best-performing clinics in the U.S. only get around 15% of their smokers to quit in any given year, and that is in a group of patients whose readiness to quit is undoubtedly higher than the population of this study.

As far as I can tell, the app isn’t available commercially yet. When “Take A Break” or its descendant products are available, though, we should think hard about using them. Smoking is still one of the leading causes of death, disability, and medical expenditures, so even a hefty price tag for such a product would be worth doubling the number of smokers who successfully quit in any six-month period.

As we’ve talked about before, we get pitched a lot of apps at KBGH. Do you have any positive experiences with skill-building or behavior change apps? If so, please share!

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Can the Biggest Loser solve our New Year’s Resolution?

Maybe, like me, you’re a couple of weeks into your New Year’s Resolution. I hope it’s going well. If your resolution centers on weight, let me suggest a strange source of motivation to continue. You may remember the dozen-year run of the NBC reality TV series The Biggest Loser. Contestants engaged in brutal exercise regimens and draconian calorie restriction (65%!) in an office-style weight loss competition, but only if your office manager trained under a third-world dictator and wore spandex. Through a 2022 prism, the show is horrifying, with its subtext that the value of the contestants as people was inextricably linked to their success in a crash diet and our knowledge that contestants abused diuretics for the sake of losing a few extra pounds for their public weigh-ins. The long-term weight-maintenance success rate of the contestants was, to put it mildly, not high.

So, I hope that any health-oriented 2022 resolutions bear little in common with The Biggest Loser. If you’re working on weight reduction, I hope you’ll focus more on the journey than the destination. But I also hope that we can all take a few lessons from the contest. A small number of contestants actually kept significant weight off after leaving the show, and a new analysis by Kevin Hall of NIH, maybe the most influential metabolic researcher in the world, looks at what may have led to their sustained success.

One of the major challenges in weight reduction is that we all gravitate toward a weight “set point” that is determined fairly early in life. When we lose a lot of weight, a la The Biggest Loser contestants, our resting metabolic rate–the calories we burn just to breathe, think, and live–slows significantly, and it becomes ever harder for us to keep weight off as our physiology inevitably pushes us back toward that set point. Investigators call this “metabolic adaptation.”

Distressingly, Hall found that six years after the competition ended, former contestants who maintained a very meaningful 12% weight reduction still exhibited a ~500 kcal/day metabolic adaptation. That is, their bodies burned 500 calories per day less at rest than they had prior to their weight reduction. And, paradoxically, the people who had the highest levels of physical activity (i.e., those who continued to burn the most energy through exercise) had the largest reductions in basal metabolic rate even though they were also the group who kept off the most weight. We can only conclude that physical activity not only burns extra calories but may have an effect on appetite. Other mechanisms are possible as well. It’s a big unknown.

Regardless of the uncertainty, this is even more evidence that we should focus more on the process of healthy living than we do on any individual measure, like body weight, waist circumference, or pant size. As we’ve said before, patients who enter programs like the Diabetes Prevention Program are often surprised at how little their weight is mentioned in class compared to, say, their daily activity levels. As you struggle with your resolution this year, consider altering your strategy if things get tough. Instead of saying “I’m going to lose five pounds this month,” consider process-based SMART objectives, like eating at least five servings of fruits and vegetables daily, taking a tablespoon of psyllium husk daily, and at least 30 minutes a day of real physical activity.

And if you’re interested in promoting this kind of strategy to your employees through resources like the Diabetes Prevention Program, please let us know.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

No, your doctor doesn't know what that medication will cost you, either

In seven years of working on CDC grants focusing on improved care of metabolic diseases like diabetes and high cholesterol, I’ve come to think that two broad factors determine the success or failure of chronic disease management. First, doctors must overcome clinical inertia, the phenomenon in which the doctor and the patient follow the easier path in the encounter and generally leave things as they are rather than stop, start, or adjust therapy when indicated. As many as 85% of visits for high blood pressure are affected by clinical inertia, meaning that medications are not adjusted when the patient’s blood pressure, symptoms, or labs indicate that they should be.

Second, patients who are prescribed therapy must adhere to it. Only about a third of patients two years removed from a diagnosis of heart disease are still taking their cholesterol medications, for example, and only about two-thirds of patients with hypertension take their blood pressure medications on any given day.

One of the most significant predictors of medication adherence is cost. High-deductible plans, the old Medicare “donut hole,” high copays, and expensive branded medications have all been linked to lower adherence rates. One potential solution to this problem is good coaching by the physician and better choice of drugs at the bedside, driven by the physician’s intimate knowledge of medication costs. But do doctors really have a grasp on medication costs? A recent study (paywall) suggests, to no one’s surprise, that they do not.

Investigators sent a survey to 900 outpatient physicians (300 each of primary care, gastroenterology, and rheumatology). A mix of 374 responded. The survey contained a hypothetical vignette in which a patient was prescribed a new drug that cost $1000/month without insurance. A summary of the fictional patient’s private insurance information was provided, including her deductible, coinsurance rate, copay, and out-of-pocket maximum. Doctors were asked to estimate the drug’s out-of-pocket cost at four time points in a theoretical year as the patient’s cost-sharing changed due to other medical expenses.

Overall, 52% of physicians could accurately estimate costs before her deductible was met, 62% accurately used coinsurance information, 61% accurately used copay information, and 57% accurately estimated costs once she met her out-of-pocket maximum. (This performance actually exceeded my expectations. Prior to my exit from daily clinical medicine and entree into the benefits game, I think I would have failed most of these tests.) But only 21% of respondents answered all four questions correctly. The docs’ ability to estimate out-of-pocket costs was not associated with their specialty, attitudes toward cost conversations, or other clinic characteristics.

We need to acknowledge that this is a feature of the system, not a bug. Doctors are not trained to be HR professionals. They’re forced into the role. To quote Malcolm Gladwell:

I don’t understand, given the constraints physicians have in doing their job and the paperwork demanded of them, why people want to be physicians. I think we've made it very, very difficult for them to perform their job. I think that’s a shame. My principal concern is the amount of time and attention spent worrying about the business side. You don’t train someone for all of those years of medical school and residency, particularly people who want to help others optimize their physical and psychological health, and then have them run a claims-processing operation for insurance companies.

Many people in the health care industry want the system to stay complex and opaque. That’s why large groups like the AMA and AHA are fighting some of the rules that have come about in the past couple of years. But I hope that your instincts match mine. We have myriad reasons to simplify insurance coverage, but I’ll start with two:

First, by reducing cost and administrative burden, we can make patients more likely to adhere to helpful therapy.

Second, if we can make the system more efficient by eliminating administrative complexity, we can leave doctors, nurses, pharmacists, allied health professionals, mental health professionals, dieticians, and others the brain power to do the work they were trained to do.

We hope you have a happy holiday season!

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

63% of What You Pay for Insulin Pays for Something Other Than Insulin

A landmark study (paywall) landed on our doorsteps last week not with a thunderous crash, as it should have, but with a gentle thud. Investigators from UCLA’s School of Public Policy published a cross-sectional analysis of where money paid for insulin actually went in the years 2014-2018.

An accompanying editorial (also paywalled) aptly describes the methodology of this research paper as “daunting,” given the difficulty in getting information in such an opaque marketplace. The investigators had to compile data on 32 separate insulin products from The SSR Health Rx Brand Pricing Data Tool, a commercial pharmacy claims database, CMS records, individual state Medicaid and drug transparency reports, and public filings of participant companies, including not only drug manufacturers, but drug wholesalers, pharmacies, pharmacy benefit managers (PBMs), and insurance companies themselves. Their methodology was complex enough that I’m not sure I completely understand it, and I’m confident I can’t pass it on to you in less than 800 words. So I’m going to get down to the nitty-gritty. First, here is their helpful schematic on the flow of money in the drug pipeline, which I found to be as good as about any explanation I’ve come across:

JAMA Health Forum

You can see that the key breakdowns in this complicated flow of goods and services are at points (2) and (7), where kickbacks from the manufacturer to the PBM (also known as “rebates”) are paid to move a drug up the formulary and where the PBM subsequently passes a share of those rebates on to the benefit plan.

Between 2014 and 2018, the average list price of the 32 insulin products rose 40.1% (inflation over the same period was 5.96%). So the list price of insulin rose eight times as fast as the list price of, say, dishwashers.

At the same time, though, the average net price paid to manufacturers fell by 33.0%. So, for example, Eli Lilly, the oldest insulin manufacturer in the United States, got $69.71 of every $100 spent on its insulin products in 2014. By 2018, they were getting only $46.73 out of every $100 spent.

Similarly, the share going to health plans (as those sneaky “rebates”) fell by 24.7%, and the share of expenditures retained by drug wholesalers increased by 74.7%, from $4.63 to $8.09, although the absolute costs were obviously low in comparison to others in the chain.

Reader, prepare your body for the coming rage (I recommend some light stretching and some John Tesh on the stereo). The share of insulin expenditures going to PBMs from 2014 to 2018 rose 154.6%, from $5.64 to $14.36 of every $100 spent. And the share retained by pharmacies increased by 228.8%, from $6.21 to $20.42.

If you can still read through all the red mist, let me reiterate this: Let’s say that you and your diabetic employee together pay ~$115 to insurance company X in December. Insurance Company X will then take its allowed Medical Loss Ratio of ~$15 and spend the remaining $100 on insulin. Of that $100, the breakdown of who gets what is below:

  • Manufacturer: $46.73

  • Wholesaler: $8.09

  • Pharmacy: $20.42

  • PBM: $14.36

  • Health insurer: $10.40

Here’s the same information in graphical form, which is helpful to see the change over time:

JAMA Health Forum

Understand that about a quarter of people on insulin–your employees–report routinely skipping doses because of insulin’s tremendous expense. While those people are very likely shortening their lives because they can’t afford their drugs, PBMs, pharmacies, and to lesser extent wholesalers, are taking ever-greater shares of the money that you and your employees pay for the insulin, all while stiffing the manufacturer. I don’t mean to let the manufacturers off the hook; the pharmaceutical industry is the most profitable industry in America by a healthy margin. But we need to recognize that every participant in the distribution system for insulin, from the manufacturer to the PBM to the pharmacy, shares some of the blame for the astronomical increase in price that we’ve experienced over the last decade or more.

Outside of breaking out the pitchforks and torches, what can be done about this problem? A lot, we believe. As we’ve outlined before, you can look at your PBM contract to make sure you have access to your data, that you are allowed to access underlying contracts of your PBM, and that you can get out of your contract in a reasonable amount of time. With that information in hand, you can challenge new clinical approvals for low-impact drugs added to your formulary. You can even buy generics directly from the manufacturer. And, if you’re a member of KBGH, you could immediately cut pharmaceutical costs even without uncomfortable conversations with your PBM by working with our Right Rx program.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Focus on the Process, Not the Outcome

Imagine, if you dare, that you are Kansas City Chiefs Head Coach Andy Reid. Fresh off two Super Bowls (and almost a third), your team now sits at 3 wins and 4 losses after a blowout defeat in which you scored zero touchdowns. You could indulge in self-pity and just listen to radio talking heads conjecture on your anticipated win-loss record come Thanksgiving.

But if your Andy Reid cosplay is true to form, I’d bet dollars-to-donuts that, instead of focusing on that intermediate outcome, you’d spend the next practice working on the process to make a better outcome more likely: fundamental skills like making sure players line up in the proper formation, know their assignments, and use sound technique in blocking, tackling, throwing, and catching. I’d bet you would want to make sure your players take care of nagging injuries.

Let’s think about the ultimate goals of medical care through this process-oriented lens. As we’ve outlined before, every medical test or treatment should aim to accomplish at least one of the following goals:

  1. It makes the patient feel better.

  2. If it does not make the patient feel better, the test or treatment should make the patient live longer.

  3. Finally, if a test or treatment makes no difference in how the patient feels and makes no difference in how long the patient lives, it should at the very least save money.

If a diagnostic or therapeutic strategy can’t be proven to cause #1, 2, or 3, it isn’t worth pursuing. In this framing, weight loss is a winner: it clearly meets criterion #1. Not only does weight loss increase one’s self-esteem come bikini season (at least according to literally every magazine cover I’ve ever seen in the checkout aisle of a supermarket), it reduces the risk of multiple potentially debilitating chronic diseases, and it eases joint pain. And, as has been repeatedly shown by programs such as the Diabetes Prevention Program, which we push hard at KBGH as part of our work with CDC and KDHE, weight loss saves money (criterion #3). But in terms of #2, life prolongation, weight loss has historically fallen short. And prolonging life is maybe the thing doctors are most proud of, given our 40-year extension of life expectancy in the developed world in the last century or so.

This is a paradox.

An excellent review published this week took on this paradox head-on and concluded that interventions for obesity would be more effective at preventing early death if they focused less on weight loss and more on increasing physical activity and improving fitness levels. That is, talk less about the outcome of a reduced body weight in six or twelve months, and talk more about the physical activity that will help the patient get there:

iScience

As you can see above, for any given weight, you’re less than half as likely to die of any cause if you’re cardiovascularly “fit” than if you’re not cardiovascularly fit (the word “unfit” seems a little pejorative here, but maybe that’s just me).

This isn’t necessarily new news. We’ve known for a long time that the things that happen in doctors’ offices that truly prolong life are surprisingly limited. But they’re powerful, and physical activity promotion is right there with cholesterol management, blood pressure control, and smoking cessation in terms of its potential to make people live longer. Physical activity reduces your risk of death from any cause by about 23% in a given period of time. Focusing on the process of being active daily achieves the outcome–the outcome we’re all ultimately most interested in–of a reduced risk of death, even without taking into account weight reduction.

Journal of the American Medical Association

This approach of process-over-outcomes and health at any size is provocative, but it is gaining steam. We’ll hear several speakers address the topic at the upcoming KBGH-sponsored Live Well with Diabetes Day of Discovery Event. Just as Andy Reid is surely telling his players to focus on their skills and decision making and not on their wins and losses, those speakers will likely tell us to start paying more attention to physical activity and food choices and less attention to the scale.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Precision Medicine and Me

In case you missed our excellent discussion on precision oncology with Dr. Fred Schnell and Dr. Quoc Truong this week, we thought we’d review what precision medicine means for the future care of your covered lives.

Had you been diagnosed with, for example, lung cancer ten years ago, your oncologist would have acted primarily on the visual description of the tumor under the microscope as reported by the pathologist. They would have described the tumor as either a “small cell” carcinoma (arising from “neuroendocrine” tissue), an “adenocarcinoma” (arising from glandular tissue) or a “squamous cell” carcinoma (arising from skin-like cells). Then your oncologist, depending on the size of the tumor and its spread outside the lungs to places like liver or bone, would have prescribed a regimen of chemotherapy and possibly radiation based on which broad category your tumor fit into. The chemotherapy and radiation would have had “toxicity” that limited its dose: things like nausea, a rash, low blood counts, or fever. You and your oncologist would have crossed your fingers and hoped for a tumor response.

If you were to be diagnosed now, though, as Drs. Schnell and Truong outlined, you would ideally have two crucial tests done before you ever received treatment. The first would be a “whole-genome” scan of the tumor’s DNA for specific mutations that might affect its response to specific drugs. One that was mentioned yesterday was a mutation in the epithelial growth factor gene. The second test would be another whole-genome test, this time from your blood, to see if you had any predisposition to cancer that might affect your response or your family’s risk for cancer. This would not only help you but would help your family members adopt early detection practices if you were to be found to carry an abnormal gene. The most famous of these genes, unrelated to lung cancer, are probably the “BRCA” mutations that increase the risk of breast and ovarian cancers.

Based on those tests, you would not necessarily receive the blunt, toxic chemotherapy that you would have ten years ago. You may receive one of those drugs, but the testing might indicate that you’d be a better candidate for much more precise, directed therapy, such as a drug that specifically targets the epithelial growth factor receptor or another gene mutation.

This genetic testing is not cheap. Whole-genome testing may run into the $3,000 or higher range. But given the astonishing cost of cancer chemotherapy and radiation, paying for this testing upfront seems to be a reasonable gamble if it means a less toxic, more precise, and potentially more effective therapy for a malignancy. We would love to explore this topic with you further. If you haven’t had a chance to dial into one of our oncology modules, please feel free to reach out, and we’ll get you signed up!

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Discipline is freedom

Spend even a little bit of time in the literature and blogosphere surrounding productivity culture, and you’ll read that “discipline is freedom.” Writers almost always attribute it to Aristotle, but he probably never said it, at least not in the context in which it is usually applied. And I know it sounds like what a dystopian government would print above the entryway into a forced labor camp. But its softer interpretation has some merit in medicine. Let me explain.

Many investigators frame the regulation of medicine according to scope. “Macroscopic” regulation, they say, comes in the form of payer policy, some of the things that Matt, Shelley, and I rant about in this post almost weekly.

“Microscopic” regulation, though, is where our notion of discipline may apply. It refers to things like safety initiatives and professional practice guidelines at the institutional and clinician levels. Take the “hemoglobin A1c” level, the nearly ubiquitous marker of diabetes control. If your personal physician adheres to the American Association of Clinical Endocrinologists’ guideline on diabetes, for example, he might treat you to a goal hemoglobin A1c level of ⩽6.5% for your diabetes. But if someone else’s doctor is a member of the American College of Physicians, she might aim for a more relaxed number for an A1c goal, like 7-8%.

A physician group seeing your employees should be able to defend their treatment target. I promise that they obsess over it in training and in evidence-based medicine conferences. But maybe more importantly, regardless of the physician’s treatment goal, he or she should be able to articulate how they intend for the patient to get there. Medicine now has a substantial body of evidence proving that structured treatment algorithms tend to outperform artisanal, patient-centered, off-the-cuff physician recommendations at the bedside. Sticking to diabetes as our example, we know that nurses and diabetes educators, following rules set by endocrinologists, tend to perform at least as well as doctors in getting patients’ A1c levels down to an acceptable range. We know that nurses outperform doctors in the treatment of gout when given a set of rules to follow. And in maybe the most famous example of this, we know that medical assistants operating in systems that give them rules and resources for the care of patients with high blood pressures perform astonishingly well (paywall), with control rates exceeding almost every other practice in the world.

The “discipline” here is the willingness of the nurses and medical assistants to follow rules set out for them by the care team. The “freedom” is the doctors’ ability in these systems to work as doctors. Instead of getting bogged down in the thick of therapeutic inertia, the doctors can focus on what they were really trained to do: diagnosing tricky cases, developing good relationships with patients and other providers, and designing treatment plans for the fraction of patients whose disease states don’t neatly fall into one of the algorithms.

Have you experienced any protocol-based care, such as chemotherapy, diabetes treatment, or management of things like gout or hypertension? We’d love to know your experience!

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Wear the Right Uniform for the Job

A couple of weeks ago, while I was driving to the office supply store over lunch, I saw a cyclist riding toward me on the busy four-lane road. I’m very enthusiastic about active transportation, including cycling, so like many drivers, I tend to slow down and use caution around cyclists just in case they are skittish in traffic. As I approached this cyclist, though, I could see that he was wearing a helmet and a moisture-wicking shirt. His bike was kitted out with pannier bags and a headlight. His “uniform” indicated that he was no amateur bike commuter. He had clearly done this before. I waved as I passed, and I watched in the rear-view mirror as he switched lanes, signaled, and make an expert left turn behind me.

The encounter got me thinking about the value of a uniform, and that got me reflecting on the pandemic. I’m not the snappiest dresser even on my best days, but all the time at home in front of a computer screen has allowed for some pretty cavalier choices in clothing, especially from the waist down. Eighteen months in, I’ve found generally positive effects to wearing a work “uniform” of my own, mostly consisting of reasonable pants and a collared shirt. First, putting on the uniform signals to me that the day has begun, like James Joyce’s white coat signaled the beginning of his writing day (I promise this is the last time I’ll compare myself to Joyce in this blog post). The donning of a uniform is one of my strategies, along with Cal Newport’s “shut down” ritual, that helps me separate my workday from my leisure day.

Second, a uniform gives the appearance, even through Zoom or Microsoft Teams, that I mean business, much like donning a white coat does in patient-care settings. White coats, originally adopted by doctors to indicate that they were adherents to science, have been linked to improved patient perception in certain situations, in spite of the fact that infrequently laundered white coats are also potentially dangerous sources of infection in hospitals. One of my extended family members has a corporate job in which professional appearance is still very valued, and her strict dress code for her team, even for people in virtual meetings, has drawn praise from coworkers and clients. That’s not to say this can’t be taken to an extreme. In the 1990s, when the national dress code had been relaxing for decades, a friend of mine worked as a computer programmer for Ross Perot. Even though he spent his day isolated in a cubicle and rarely spoke to another employee in person, he was expected to wear a black, blue, brown, or grey suit, starched shirt, tie, and shined shoes to work every day. Needless to say, he found another job. And NBA all-timer Bill Russell famously retired early from basketball after deciding (and I’m paraphrasing) that he was tired of being a grown man wearing shorts playing a children’s game.

Finally, some evidence indicates that a proper uniform may actually improve performance. One of my high school cross country teammates often did his long weekend “base mileage” runs in jeans, and it completely freaked me out. On top of the obvious chafing issues, I could not handle the thought of just rolling out of a tractor cab on Saturday evening and loping off down a dirt road. I needed the ceremony of changing out of work clothes into shorts to help me transition. While sports apparel companies loudly tout the benefits of “moisture wicking,” breathability, compression, and aerodynamics, studies show that simply wearing an appropriate uniform, or even a good luck charm, for a sporting activity may improve performance, presumably because of psychological effects like focus and confidence.

So, even if you’re a borderline slob like me, here’s my advice as a licensed medical professional, for whatever it’s worth: wear the clothes and equipment that match your tasks for the day. If you’re going to the Oscars, wear a ball gown or tuxedo. If you’re exercising, wear whatever clothes are appropriate for the sport. And if you’re employed in knowledge work like I am, wear what you would wear to the office, even if your day will be spent at your own dining room table. You’ll feel better and perform better.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Diabetes screening comes for the millenials

When I was a junior medical school faculty member, we spent a lot of time talking about the special educational needs of the Millenial generation. At the time, as a proud Gen Xer myself, Millenials seemed so...distant. But now the oldest millennials are 40(!), and the youngest are 25. As the age of Millenials has risen, so have rates of obesity and diabetes. About one in three Americans now has “prediabetes,” meaning a blood glucose level that is abnormally high but not high enough to be declared diabetes mellitus. Around ten percent of Americans are currently diabetic, and the rate of diabetes in people under age 20 has gone up a staggering 95% in the last twenty years (paywall).

So, inevitably, these streams have crossed, and the United States Preventive Services Task Force, or USPSTF, has now reduced the recommended age to screen for diabetes down from ages 40-70 to ages 35-70, starting smack dab in the middle of the Millenial bracket. They recommend we repeat the screening every third year. The screening recommendation applies only to people with a body mass index of 25.0 kg/m2 or above, but that is still a huge population, more than 40 percent of Americans by some estimates. And the guideline recommends considering even earlier screening for “...American Indians, Black people, Hispanics and other groups with ”overweight or obesity with “disproportionately high diabetes rates.”

The purpose of screening people for diabetes and prediabetes, typically with a fasting blood test, is not to simply attach a hurtful label to someone; it is to find people whose progression from prediabetes to diabetes, which normally proceeds at a rate of ~5-15% per year, can be slowed or halted with lifestyle changes or medications. The most tried-and-true program to accomplish this is the National Diabetes Prevention Program, or DPP, a one-year behavior change program conducted by peer coaches in-person or virtually. The USPSTF “found evidence that medical interventions for newly diagnosed diabetes have a moderate benefit in reducing diabetes-related deaths and heart attacks over a span of 10 to 20 years.” But the most compelling reason for screening for and preventing diabetes may be monetary savings. In addition to being the seventh leading cause of death in the United States, diabetes is an astonishingly expensive disease. The American Diabetes Association estimates that the cost of caring for a person with diabetes is roughly 2.3 times the cost of caring for the average person without diabetes. Diabetes accounts for about one in seven dollars spent in the American medical system. At a cost of around $500 for a year of the DPP, then, with one in seven participants subsequently avoiding a diagnosis of diabetes, it is no surprise that diabetes screening and the DPP are wildly cost-effective. And that is without taking into account that people enrolled in the DPP have lower rates of absenteeism and a reduced need for blood pressure and cholesterol medications.

We at KBGH so believe in the DPP that we’ve offered two employers funding for pilot programs. If you’re interested in exploring offering the DPP as a medical benefit, please reach out to us!

[disclaimer: KBGH receives CDC and KDHE funding in part for increased detection and prevention of type 2 diabetes]

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Should we punish people for inappropriate emergency room visits?

On a Saturday morning in November 2016, I woke up with a high fever and a frozen, excruciatingly painful right shoulder. I have a primary care doctor that I trust and like, but she, like most primary care docs, doesn’t work Saturdays. But I’m in the extremely privileged position of being married to a primary care physician (albeit not my primary care physician because that would be weird). My wife examined my shoulder, tsk-tsked my fever, and drove me to her clinic. One of her colleagues in the sports medicine department who happened to be in the building did a quick ultrasound of my shoulder and saw a possible effusion, or excess fluid, in the joint space, and recommended I be admitted to the hospital for a possible “septic joint,” the unglamorous medical terminology for pus in the joint space.

To make a four-day story short, I was admitted through the emergency department, went to surgery, had the shoulder drained, was seen by an infectious disease specialist who ruled out infection, continued to have fevers for a few more days, and left the hospital without a diagnosis, like around 15-20 percent of patients. But my fevers eventually subsided, and I healed up with the help of physical therapy. The problem hasn’t recurred.

I subject you to this story because I’m curious whether a modern insurance company would have considered my emergency department visit “appropriate.” I was clearly in distress. But to this day I have no diagnosis to explain my symptoms, and I can only assume that I would have eventually returned to my baseline state of health had I sweated out my fevers at home and taken over-the-counter pain medications for my shoulder.

But that’s all hindsight. My presentation really was worrisome for a septic joint, and when a patient presents with that diagnosis, we have maybe 24 hours to offer treatment before the infection causes irreversible damage.

United Healthcare, the largest health insurance company in America, decided a few months ago to start vetting emergency room bills, with the possibility of not covering a claim if the reason for the visit was not eventually deemed an emergency. Unsurprisingly, this caused an uproar not only among patients but understandably among doctors and hospitals as well. The doctors and hospitals don’t control who comes in the door, after all. They just take care of whoever walks in and try to cover the fixed costs of having a functioning 24/7 clinic open to the public. And as inefficient as emergency care can be, discouraging it could have the unintended consequence of diverting people away from needed care, and most patients already have a strong disincentive for ED use because of high-deductible plans and cost-sharing. And contrary to popular belief and the policy direction of many employers, Americans don’t actually overutilize care in comparison to patients in peer countries. So United Healthcare ultimately announced it would delay (but not abandon) implementing the new policy until after the COVID-19 pandemic has passed. (Anthem attempted a similar policy several years ago, but it is still tied up in litigation.)

On the other hand, though, it is generally accepted that the ED is a more expensive care environment than, say, a primary care doctor’s office. So if unnecessary ED visits could instead be diverted toward primary care visits, United Healthcare could save money and theoretically pass those savings on to everyone in the form of lower premiums.

So I was really interested to see Dylan Matthews’ analysis of the role of excess emergency department use in driving up healthcare costs. I cannot find a good link to his article; I got it via an email newsletter. So I’m going to do my best to outline his findings without committing outright plagiarism.

In short, Matthews found in speaking to a half-dozen healthcare finance experts from Harvard, Rutgers, and other institutions, that there is no evidence that reducing emergency department visits explicitly to save money actually works. This is, according to the experts, because rates of ED utilization have actually been steady for the last several years, and have actually dropped during and post-COVID-19. The problem with the ED, like with most of American medicine, is not utilization, but cost. And implementing a post-hoc vetting process like United Healthcare is proposing makes vulnerable patients the middle man in an astonishingly complex transaction. Some studies, like this one from 2017, show that incentives can provoke a small diversion toward primary care and way from the ED, but total costs don’t decline because the inpatient cost of the ED visit is simply shunted toward increased outpatient utilization. My personal caveat to this finding is that primary care is generally cost-effective in the long run, and that early intervention in the primary care setting is likely to lead to better outcomes. Short-term studies like the 2017 paper above don’t have the duration to detect this.

UHC and Anthem will presumably, sooner or later, get these policies going, and that will kick off a natural experiment that eventually tells us whether the policies do what they’re intended to do--decrease cost by decreasing ED use--or whether patients are harmed. What we unequivocally know is that the policies will lead to patients trying to decide if their problem is really an emergency. Is that chest pain because of your extra fries at supper, or is it a heart attack? Is that shoulder pain and fever a mystery that will never kill you, or do you really have a septic joint? It’s too early to predict what the effect of this will be. In the meantime, though, as we’ve mentioned many times before, the best way to optimize your employees’ care is to make sure they have good, low-cost access to a primary care practitioner.

We hope that insurance companies and other players in the health care marketplace can come up with more innovative ways to control cost, like addressing the outrageous prices charged for services compared to other countries, and spare patients the task of being their own health care providers and worse, small-claims adjusters.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Could Internet Access Make Your Employees Healthier?

Reader, you’re about to read a post that is decidedly pro-internet. Like Nixon in China, we at KBGH feel we have particularly powerful priors to make this pro-internet argument. We’ve posted in the past on the potential ill health effects of social media, which, along with Amazon commerce, is maybe the leading driver of internet activity in 2021. And we freely acknowledge all the other bad things that come with internet use, like leaky personal data, mean anonymous messages, poor interoperability of electronic health records, and the general time-suck of streaming services. So we’re not coming from a magical internet land of digital butterflies and rainbows when we tell you that access to the internet is good.

With access to the internet, you can see pictures of your grandkids now, for almost free. You can push a few buttons, drive to the airport, and fly, float, or bus anywhere in the world. We gaze in wonder at the seemingly impossible tasks made possible by internet connectivity and its associated computing power, like the recent news of AlphaFold2 (part of Google/Alphabet’s DeepMind) outdoing legions of human biologists by solving the problem of protein folding and publicly releasing 350,000 protein structure predictions, more than double the number that have been determined in all of human history by traditional methods, and including nearly every protein expressed in the human bodyWe all have access to our doctors’ notes now, thanks to the internet.

So the internet is increasingly seen not as a luxury, but as a utility, like electricity or city water. Access to cheap electricity undoubtedly increases your risk of being electrocuted. But it also increases your likelihood of having heat in the winter. We take the bad with the good. And a new tool from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality shows that access to the internet, in spite of all its flaws, may be valuable to your health. The effect is so powerful that many believe that internet access–which 25 million Americans lack–should be considered a “social determinant of health,” just like income or education level.

The new tool looks at years 2014 to 2018 and shows that internet access, both in terms of broadband and internet-connected devices, is unequally distributed. In the darkest blue counties, between 22% and 62% (!) of homes have no computing devices:

US-internet-map.png

Here is Kansas, with data from Sedgwick County:

KS-internet-map.png

The darkest blue counties align closely with counties with the highest poverty rates and highest levels of chronic disease. People on Medicaid and Medicare make up about two-thirds of those without home internet, and around a fifth of Americans under the poverty line lack internet. So a skeptic might say that the lack of internet access is just a proxy for poverty. But other studies show an independent effect, even after controlling for income and other determinants of health. It does not take a huge leap of the imagination to see how internet access may improve health outcomes, given our recent history of a global pandemic and forced entry into telemedicine. And with more social distancing likely on the horizon this fall (*gentle reminder: update your vaccines*), we are likely to get another heapin’ helpin’ of telemedicine as 2021 turns into 2022. But the benefit of internet access likely extends far beyond simple access to a physician. Less than 20% of health outcomes are directly attributable to the care of a physician and his care team, after all.

We don’t know the exact mechanism by which internet access may improve health outcomes. Caregivers may have more informal access to health information. It may give people access to their physician’s electronic health record portal. It may simply lead to more economic opportunities, like the gig economy. Regardless, we believe that it may be helpful to determine which of your employees lack home internet access. For those that do, it may be beneficial to their health to assist them in getting access. I can’t find any good studies of specific strategies, but off the top of my head, we could make sure access to broadband is widely available at the workplace so that they can take advantage of breaks in the day. We could instruct employees on local sources of free broadband like the public library. We could coach them on using publicly available apps like WiFi Maps or the Facebook mobile app to find wifi hotspots (and coach them on the potential data insecurity of public wifi while we’re at it; this is not an endorsement of WiFi Maps, and Lord knows it’s not an endorsement of Facebook). If any of your employees are taking continuing education courses, there is a chance the course vendor or institution offers free internet access for the duration of the course.

Has your company taken steps to increase broadband access? What potential interventions have we overlooked? We’d love to hear from you.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

What are the steps to productivity?

I’ve been a fan of Cal Newport, the epically productive lifehacker and computer science professor, since I read his book Deep Work in 2017 (and promptly deleted my social media). He recently channeled Dave Ramsey’s “Baby Steps” for a responsible financial life in his podcast to create a preliminary list of steps to gain mastery over professional productivity. . Here they are, in my own words:

https://mythinkpond.com/post/2020-12-05-managing-your-time/

https://mythinkpond.com/post/2020-12-05-managing-your-time/

  1. Begin daily time block planning (see above). This is the organization of your day into blocks of time so that every minute of your day has a job, even if that job is getting rest or going for a walk. Not coincidentally, Newport has a planner he sells (and which I’ve used) for this very purpose, although a cheap notebook works just as well.

  2. Set up task boards for each of your professional roles. On each task board, keep track of the obligations for those roles and the status of each obligation. He recommends a column for this week’s work, a column for “ambiguous/needs clarified,” a column for each major project you’re working on, a column for “waiting to hear back,” Newport uses Trello for this, a software I’ve never managed to get the hang of, but a physical board would work as well as long as you do most of your work in one location like an office. He also mentions Flow and Asana.

  3. “Full capture” your day. He means that, at the end of the day, every professional obligation for the day is out of your head and recorded in a trusted system so that it won’t be ignored or forgotten moving forward. He says he got this from David Allen’s Getting Things Done, which I’ve never read. Newport says that a beginner’s “trusted system” should consist of their email inbox, their calendar, and their task board (see above). He recommends having a box to check at the end of the day that indicates this step has been done. Big on ceremony, that Cal Newport.

  4. Develop a weekly plan, based on your calendar and your task boards. Look at the whole picture, start blocking out time for big projects you know are going to take time, just so people can’t interrupt those time blocks with meeting requests. Come up with a “productivity heuristic” for the week, like devoting 30 minutes each morning to handling questions from clients, come hell or high water. When you time block plan every day, use the weekly plan to guide what you’re spending your time on.

  5. Develop a strategic plan. Part one is the vision for your professional life, where you’d like to be in five years and how you plan to get there. Part two is your vision for the upcoming quarter. Your weekly plan is influenced by the strategic plan in the same way that your time block planning is influenced by your weekly plan.

  6. Automate and eliminate. This is the process of tweaking your work-life by putting in place systems and guidelines to streamline, reduce context switching, and get unnecessary jobs off your plate, like committee assignments you don’t feel are productive. He stresses that the elimination step has to come after you’ve developed professional credibility in other ways. So he recommends saving the automate and eliminate steps for after steps 1-5 have been mastered.

  7. Go for it. This one is a little cheesy, maybe in the tradition of self-helpers. Once you’ve implemented all these philosophies, take advantage of your new powers to take really ambitious swings.

Wanting to Improve Is Not the Same Thing as Improving

Around 2013, I was diagnosed with pre-diabetes. Doctors fear dying of the diseases they know best: gastroenterologists of colon cancer, infectious disease specialists of sepsis, you get the idea. So, for the sake of my blood sugars, after a decade-plus of abstention due to medical school, young kids, and a growing medical practice, I decided to get back into racing bicycles. I dusted off my old cyclocross bike, aired up the tires, bought some Chamois Butt’r, and congratulated myself for my reentry into competition. But note what I did not do, which is put in the miles that it takes to be a competent, competitive rider. In my first race back, a fifty-mile gravel race around Sun City, Kansas, I barely finished. If not for the help of a fellow rider who felt sorry for me, I may not even have crossed the finish line. To say the least, I had not earned my smug self-congratulatory attitude going into the race. On the drive home, the Stuart Smalley voice in my head told me I wasn’t a bad person. He told me I was human. All I had done was give myself credit for wanting to improve when I should have waited to give myself credit for actually taking the steps to improve.

I was reminded of my past foibles recently when I came across a report in the British Medical Journal pithily titled Wanting to improve is not always the same as knowing how to improve. The authors described a quality improvement project in an English hospital that aimed to reduce the length of stay of patients after knee replacement surgery. Early in the project, the investigators decided that the method of anesthesia–light sedation, heavy sedation, local anesthesia, etc.–was the primary obstacle to getting patients out of the hospital quickly. Then they went through five (five!) different anesthesia protocols over the course of seven (seven!) years. In all that time, they didn’t budge patients’ length of stay. They didn’t show an effect on any other indicator of quality, like time until the patient first walked, the patient’s reported pain, or overall pain medication use, either.

But I’m willing to bet that in that seven years, the folks involved in the study were proud of their work on improving the project, in spite of what we can see now, with the benefit of time and perspective. After all, we give ourselves credit in a number of ways that we refuse to extend to others when we have some distance from the problem, even outside of quality improvement. I may have no problem recognizing how reckless another driver is when he blasts through a fading yellow light. But when I tap the accelerator to do the same thing, since I’m generally intending to be a safe driver, it never occurs to me that my actions, too, have put other people in danger. Princeton University psychologist Emily Pronin calls this the “introspection illusion.” Our distorted self-image, blinded by the stage lights of our own personal sitcom, sees our desire to be good and ignores the fact that our objective goodness might fall short.

This intersects with the “Dunning Kruger effect,” the demonstration that the more incompetent people are, the less aware they are of their incompetence (like a slightly chubby cyclist entering his first race in years, blind to his abject lack of fitness or preparation). The more we miss the mark on a given task, the more our estimation of our success departs from reality. Physicians are especially prone to Dunning Kruger.

So the next time you set out to improve a process in your work, avoid the mistakes made by our English friends. First, measure the outcome you’re interested in and don’t rely on an intuitive understanding of the issue. This may require pressuring your administrative consultants to help you get meaningful data. Then put some distance between yourself and the problem through “meta-cognition.” Instead of saying, “Let’s increase the number of employees getting their diabetes screenings,” say to yourself, “Here is a company [i.e., the company you work for] in which xx% of employees received diabetes screening in the last three years.” Instead of jumping to a presumed problem to solve, think of the environment that led to the outcome you’ve measured. As Don Berwick famously said, paraphrasing others, “every outcome is the product of a system perfectly designed to achieve that outcome.” At KBGH we do this through a process called Ishikawa Analysis, first applied in post-World War II Yokohama shipyards:

https://vanguardcommunications.net/fishbone-problem-solving/

Here, the company has divided inputs into Procedures, Technology, Patients, and People. But those are relatively arbitrary. You may find you have more or fewer input classes and that they’re more process or environmentally-oriented than the example.

Next, use that loose framework to talk to employees and the health care team about what is holding them back, what we call a “stakeholder analysis.” You may have gone into the problem assuming that employees are swamping their doctors with complaints of back pain or depression, based on claims data. But you may find instead that scheduling issues aren’t allowing patients to arrive at the lab fasting before work. This process is what led the folks in the study above to a breakthrough. In talking to staff, investigators realized that, in concentrating so closely on anesthesia, they had overlooked (for seven years!) other potential contributing factors, like patient expectations, limited staff, time constraints, and cultural factors like lack of staff ‘buy in’ to the project.

Eventually, I went on to finish and do well in many, many bike races. More importantly, I lost enough weight and stayed active enough to return my blood sugars to a normal range, where they thankfully remain. And I did it not by wishing my way to better performance, but by eliminating problem foods I knew I was over-eating, increasing my fiber intake to a pre-specified goal, scheduling time to ride, working on specific skills, and measuring specific outputs. But getting modestly faster on a bicycle is trivial compared to the challenge of improving the lives of our covered employees.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Don’t Think About Possibilities. Think About Adjacent Possibilities.

Imagine that the receding COVID-19 pandemic had happened ten years ago. What would we have done for work? Would we have simply masked up and soldiered on as folks did with the 1918 influenza pandemic and accepted the inevitable, staggering death toll? Would we have suspended all business for a few weeks or months and used even more generous government borrowing and spending to keep our heads above water?

Fortunately, most of us didn’t have to make those choices. (“Essential workers,” like folks working in shipping, grocery stores, health care, and other fields, did have to make those choices, and we should recognize and applaud their work and sacrifice). Most of us had access to computers and high-bandwidth internet connections that allowed us to transition our work or school to a virtual space. But that would not have been possible even ten years ago. At that point, neither the software nor the internet was ready. The development of widely available broadband and the subsequent development of Zoom, Microsoft Teams, WebEx, GoToMeeting, Google Teams, and a half-dozen other virtual meeting platforms is a good example of the “adjacent possible,” the most famous idea brought forth by the physician and theoretical biologist Stuart Kauffman.

In his book “At Home in the Universe,” Kauffmann described early earth as (I’m paraphrasing here) a “primordial stew.” Atoms and molecules collided with each other and transformed each other in infinite ways, eventually sticking together into a set of new molecules that self-organized and self-replicated in a process we now call “life.” In his typically mathematical way, he points out how close to “infinite” he means when he talks about those new molecules:

“Biological proteins use 20 kinds of amino acids — glycine, alanine, lysine, arginine, and so forth. A protein is a linear sequence of [amino acids]. Picture 20 colors of beads. A protein of 100 amino acids is like a string of 100 beads. The number of possible strings is just the number of types of beads, here 20, multiplied times itself 100 times. That’s 10¹²⁰, or a 1 with 120 zeroes after it. Even in these days of vast federal deficits, 10¹²⁰ is a really big number. The estimated number of hydrogen molecules in the entire universe is 10⁶⁰. So the number of possible proteins of length 100 is equal to the square of the number of hydrogen molecules in the universe [emphasis mine].”

The complexity of life on earth, which is so daunting at first glance, seems much more inevitable when the interaction between such a vast number of molecules is considered. Here, a “trial” is two molecules interacting with the potential to form a new, novel molecule:

“Assuming that a “trial” occurs in a volume of one cubic micron and takes one microsecond, Shapiro calculated that enough time has elapsed since the earth was born to carry out 10⁵¹ trials, or less. If a new protein were tried in each trial, then only 10⁵¹ possible proteins of length 100 can have been tried in the history of the earth. Thus only a tiny portion of the total diversity of such proteins has ever existed on the earth! Life has explored only an infinitesimal fraction of the possible proteins.”

In the multi-billion-year history of planet Earth, we’ve experienced a tiny, tiny fraction of the proteins that could exist! The potential for other combinations of amino acids in new proteins represents the adjacent possible. Science writer Steven Johnson takes a more poetic and less mathematical approach to the adjacent possible. He describes it as “a kind of shadow future, hovering on the edges of the present state of things, a map of all the ways in which the present can reinvent itself.”

I went into this week’s blog post with the plan to talk about how the history of health insurance intersects with American ideals, what with Independence Day coming. But I veered into this topic instead because it seems the most American of all. We experience the health care system as it exists. We assume that its current temperature is what it always has been and always will be, like fish who don’t realize the temperature of their water or even know that water exists. But suppose we step back and see the tiny innovations happening in health care and the little experiments that succeed and fail daily. We can imagine an adjacent possible where everyone’s lives are better.

When you examine your benefit design, I hope you can keep that in mind. Paraphrasing Bill Gates, we all tend to overestimate the change that will take place in the next year, but we underestimate the change that will take place in the next decade. Good administrators, like good politicians, make changes that are popular and make people’s lives better. Think of minor problems in your benefit design that you can try to fix now. Some will fail, some will succeed, but in ten years, the effort to change them could genuinely transform health care. Just as we’ve not yet experienced the vast majority of possible proteins in Earth’s history, I’m confident that since the founding of the first American health insurance plan in 1850, we have tried only a tiny fraction of potential combinations of innovations in health care delivery.

Happy Independence Day.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

About that BMI...

We here at the Kansas Business Group on Health are big on the BMI (no pun intended). The “body mass index,” which compares a person’s weight in kilograms to the square of his height in meters (BMI = kg/m2), is a very crude predictor of metabolic health. I’m willing to bet that if you’ve used a commercial health risk assessment for your employees, the vendor calculated everyone’s BMI. But when we use a standard like the BMI, we’re obligated to discuss its limitations.

The BMI is not a recent, cutting-edge invention. Belgian polymath Adolphe Quetelet first described it in the 19th century. After a couple of relatively fallow centuries in the scientific literature, it reemerged in 1972 thanks to legendary University of Minnesota nutrition researcher Ancel Keys. But the cutoffs for what constituted normal or excessive body weight for a given height were hard to settle on. At first in the United States, data from the second National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey (NHANES II) were used to define obesity in adults as a BMI of 27.3 kg/m2 or more for women and a BMI of 27.8 kg/m2 or more for men. Investigators based these seemingly arbitrary numbers on the gender-specific 85th percentile values of BMI for persons 20 to 29 years of age in NHANES II, the years 1976-1980, a big problem considering the year-over-year growth of excess body weight in America. Then, in 1998, an NIH expert panel elected to adopt the World Health Organization (WHO) classifications for overweight and obesity. Since then, we’ve considered a BMI of ≥25.0 kg/m2 to be “overweight” and a BMI of ≥30.0 kg/m2 to be “obese.” The American Medical Association declared obesity a disease in 2013, using the same definitions. Nowadays, the US Preventive Services Task Force, the independent panel whose recommendations underlie which preventive services are paid for by insurance, recommends screening all adults and children over age six with a BMI. However, experts still define childhood obesity as a BMI ≥95th percentile rather than a hard cutoff as in adults.

Defining an abnormal body weight in hard numbers like this has its advantages. In theory, it removes subjective judgment from the clinician or the patient on the shape of the patient’s body and simply places everyone in a category of risk. We use these cutoffs in our work here at KBGH in CDC-funded work. A person with an “overweight” BMI of 25.0 kg/m2 or above, for example, qualifies for the Diabetes Prevention Program, a one-year behavioral change program meant to reduce the risk of developing diabetes over time. Since the Diabetes Prevention Program has been shown to increase quality of life, decrease absenteeism, and lower the cost of care, we encourage folks to see if they qualify.

But given its long pedigree and the crudeness of the measure, it comes as no surprise that the BMI and similar measures have some shortcomings. As early as 1942, investigators showed that professional football players initially rejected for military service due to elevated weights relative to their heights actually had smaller proportions of body fat than nonathletic young naval men. A later NFL Study revealed that some players, even at positions not typically associated with body mass, such as wide receivers, had elevated BMIs due to their massive muscles. The BMI does not take into account body composition, after all.

And we’ve long known that different racial groups (speaking of measures with some shortcomings) have different BMI “cutoffs” for risk of disease. The recognition that different BMI cutoffs should trigger actions to prevent complications has caused investigators to try to identify ethnicity-specific BMI cutoffs. A new study in the Lancet attempts to do just that.

Investigators looked at millions of visits of non-diabetic patients to primary care offices over about thirty years. They collapsed the self-reported ethnicities of the patients into five categories: White, South Asian, Black, Chinese, and Arabic. Since the study was in England, the population was overwhelmingly white (90.6%), so take that into account as you interpret the results.

They used the White BMI cutoff of ≥30 kg/m2 as their reference group and compared everyone else to the risk in that population. The numbers showed that to equal the diabetes risk of a population of White patients with a BMI of ≥30 kg/m2, other ethnic populations would need to exceed the following cutoffs:

  • South Asian: ≥23.9 kg/m2

  • Black: ≥28.1 kg/m2

  • Chinese: ≥26.9 kg/m2

  • Arabic: ≥26.6 kg/m2

They concluded that “Revisions of ethnicity-specific BMI cutoffs are needed to ensure that minority ethnic populations are provided with appropriate clinical surveillance to optimise the prevention, early diagnosis, and timely management of type 2 diabetes.” That is, in the opinion of the researchers, we need to take into account the self-reported ethnicity of the person when we decide how risky their BMI is. I guess I’m on board with this recommendation as long as we don’t use the data to stigmatize but instead to non-judgementally and proactively address health risks.

If your company is interested in getting more employees at risk of diabetes into the Diabetes Prevention Program, please contact us!

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.

Do Medication Rebates Harm Patients? Yes.

Medication rebates are by now a time-honored part of employer-sponsored health insurance. How do they work? Let’s assume a drug costs $100. A substantial fraction of that, as much as $66 or more in the case of insulin, goes not toward the cost of the production of the drug, nor for pure profit on the part of the manufacturer, but back as a “rebate” to you, the employer (~90% on average, according to CVS and Express Scripts) and to the pharmacy benefit manager (PBM).

Let’s examine the incentives at work in this system. Imagine that KBGH Project Manager Matt Thibault were to invent a magically effective new cardiovascular drug tomorrow that cost only $2 per dose. This drug would soon be in the hands of every high-risk cardiovascular patient in America, right? Maybe not. At a price of $2, no PBM would likely be interested in having the drug on formulary because the potential for the PBM to make money off the drug in the form of rebates (or, for that matter, on spread pricing, a topic for another day) is tiny; any percent of $2 is a small amount of money.

Make that same drug $20 per dose and offer a 50% rebate split between the PBM and the employer, though, and now we’re getting somewhere. PBMs routinely move drugs up the formulary list in exchange for greater rebates. This has led to rebates being renamed, perhaps more accurately, as “kickbacks.” The incentives are aligned, then, to make sure the drug is as expensive as possible in order to maximize kickbacks to the PBM.

It would be one thing if consumers at the retail pharmacy level could see this happening and make a decision on where to buy their medications. But rebates are strictly confidential (although that may change soon). In order to keep rebates secret, PBMs also have to keep net prices—the cost of the drug after applying the rebate–confidential. To avoid having to say what the net price is, insurers typically require anyone with coinsurance to pay for a percentage of the retail pharmacy list price, not the secret net price.

It isn’t hard to predict where this system ends up. Drugs inevitably get more expensive, PBMs make more money than the drug companies they ostensibly help with supply chain issues, and patients (a.k.a., your employees) bear the burden in the form of increased list prices. A recent study in JAMA Health Policy (paywall) bears this out.

Investigators estimated the effective out-of-pocket share of drug costs that would have been paid by a hypothetical patient from 2014 to 2018, taking into account both initial coverage, a “coverage gap” (as in Medicare Part D), and a catastrophic coverage phase. In the study years, the average list price–what the drug costs, rebate included–per unit increased 29%. The average net price–the cost of the drug after applying the rebate–increased only 7%. The huge divergence between list and net prices was completely due to a 98% increase in average rebates.

This astonishingly high list-to-net ratio grew fastest for drugs with branded and generic competitors, from 2.7 in 2014 to 3.4 in 2018. The list-to-net ratio grew, but more slowly, for drugs with branded competitors only (from 1.4 to 1.6) and drugs without any competition (from 1.2 to 1.4). So we have yet another example in the paradoxical medical economy in which competition, rather than decreasing cost to the consumer, increases cost to the consumer (again, a topic for another day).

Americans do not overconsume medical resources. American health care is expensive almost exclusively because of flawed pricing structures. We simply pay more for any given service, medication, or outcome than people in peer countries do. Yet almost every intervention employers implement is designed to reduce consumption, and relatively few interventions are aimed at pricing. Rebates inherently increase the price of medications to the consumer and inevitably lead to less adherence to prescribed medications.

So don’t wait for new PBM transparency laws to take effect. Have a frank conversation about how you want medication prices to work in your employee health plan. A simple first step that doesn’t go all the way to a pure, “pass-through” PBM relationship, is to tell your insurer that you want to include “point-of-sale rebate pass-through” with your plan. This would pass the rebate payment through to the consumer (your employee) at the point of sale, reducing their out-of-pocket obligation by ensuring that their coinsurance applied only to the net price. Your employees will thank you.

As the Medical Director of the Kansas Business Group on Health, I’m sometimes asked to weigh in on hot topics that might affect employers or employees. This is a reprint of a blog post from KBGH.