One day in the early sixties, Saul Zucker, a pediatrician and anesthesiologist in the Bronx, was treating the child of a New York assemblyman named Alexander Chananau. Amid the stethoscoping and reflex-hammering of a routine checkup, the two men got to talking about polio, which was still a threat to the nation’s youth, in spite of the discovery, the previous decade, of a vaccine.
Severely ill immigrants, including children with cancer, cystic fibrosis, and other grave conditions, are facing deportation under a change in Trump administration policy that immigration advocates are calling cruel and inhumane. The policy change will affect at least a dozen children receiving treatment at Boston hospitals and potentially thousands of additional immigrants across the country, according to lawyers and advocates.
When your doctor gives you health advice, and your insurer pays for the recommended treatment, you probably presume it’s based on solid evidence. But a great deal of clinical practice that’s covered by private insurers and public programs isn’t.
Dr. Carl Lindblad has admitted his role in a fraud scheme that swindled the military. The conspiracy used bogus prescriptions for pain cream that cost $14,000. Lindblad will be allowed to keep his medical license after a suspension.
A decade ago a woman surrendered her nursing license in Wyoming to settle allegations that she altered a prescription to obtain a controlled substance for herself.
Brenda just wanted out of the exam room. Her physician, Dr. Michael Dick, had put his hands on her face, her shoulders, her thighs. He’d kissed her, forcibly, on the lips. She was so shocked she didn’t know how to respond.