Of the nine people who have been treated for Ebola in the United States, only one has died. Family members of Thomas Eric Duncan, who was diagnosed with the virus in Dallas after arriving from Liberia, say he did not get all the help they wanted before he died Oct. 8. They now question why his care was different in some ways than that of other patients treated in the U.S. Here are some of the questions raised about his care and answers from health officials. Q: How quickly was Duncan diagnosed? A: Duncan was misdiagnosed with a sinus infection after first arriving at Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital Dallas on Sept. 25.
Like anything, it takes time and practice to become a qualified surgeon. But what is the appropriate balance of allowing residents to gain experience and giving patients the best care possible? U.S. News explored the risks and benefits to surgery at teaching hospitals: Do the benefits of surgery at a major academic institution outweigh the costs of patients being used as a teaching tool? Is care from a surgical resident of lesser quality than care from an attending surgeon? While opinions vary among patients and medical professionals, the majority agree patients should be well-informed before making any major health care decisions.
Translating from one language to another is a tricky business, and when it comes to interpreting between a doctor and patient, the stakes are even higher. Consider the story of 18-year-old baseball player Willie Ramirez. In 1980, Ramirez was taken to a South Florida hospital in a coma, says Helen Eby, a certified medical interpreter in Oregon. "His family apparently used the word 'intoxicado' to talk about this person," she says. "Well, 'intoxicado' in Spanish just means that you ingested something. It could be food; it could be a drug; it could be anything that has made you sick."
Inside the seventh-floor biocontainment unit at Nebraska Medical Center where Ashoka Mukpo's life was saved, medical crews worked, gingerly, to remove any lingering trace of the lethal virus. They incinerated pounds of infectious waste. Their gowns and head coverings, and loose papers and personal belongings left over from their patient, were being decontaminated with blasts of high-pressure steam. For 48 hours, the 10-bed unit — the largest of its kind in the United States — will sit dormant as doctors hope for any remnants of the Ebola virus to dissipate on their own. Then, another round of cleaning begins — this time, using ultraviolet rays to zap anything that remains of the virus. The biocontainment staff of about 60 takes protective measures beyond those recommended by the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Health officials at the center of nation's Ebola crisis are moving into overdrive to tame widespread public fears about the disease. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has announced three new protocols in the three days as it looks to assert control over the deadly virus that infected two Americans this month. "The bottom line here is that we have to keep up our guard against Ebola," Frieden told reporters Wednesday as he announced a three-week mandatory monitoring period for anyone traveling into the United States from West Africa.
The Ebola crisis is forcing the American healthcare system to consider the previously unthinkable: withholding some medical interventions because they are too dangerous to doctors and nurses and unlikely to help a patient. U.S. hospitals have over the years come under criticism for undertaking measures that prolong dying rather than improve patients' quality of life. But the care of the first Ebola patient diagnosed in the United States, who received dialysis and intubation and infected two nurses caring for him, is spurring hospitals and medical associations to develop the first guidelines for what can reasonably be done and what should be withheld.