Nearly all schools offered at least some in-person learning by the end of the last school year, and many schools plan to bring kids back full time this fall.
This article was published on Thursday, August 12, 2021 in Kaiser Health News.
When kids head back to school this fall, for some it will be the first time they've been in a real classroom with other students since the pandemic began. Even if they attended classes in person last year, the spread of the highly transmissible delta variant of COVID-19 will require a new safety calculation, particularly for parents of kids younger than 12, who can't yet get a vaccine.
"You have a confluence of three unfortunate events," said Dr. Paul Offit, director of the Vaccine Education Center at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. "You have a group of children who are unlikely to have a vaccine available to them when they go back to school; you have the delta variant, which is far more contagious; and you have the winter months, with a cold, dry climate where the virus can spread more easily."
Nearly all schools offered at least some in-person learning by the end of the last school year, and many schools plan to bring kids back full time this fall. And in more than a dozen states, schools are required to offer in-person classes either full or part time, according to an analysis in June by EducationWeek.
Parents have questions about how to navigate this new landscape. Here are answers to some common concerns.
Q: What should parents do if their child gets what seems like a bad cold, but they're worried it could be COVID?
It's likely your school has protocols in place for handling these situations. But in general, if a child is sick, especially with symptoms of an upper respiratory infection like coughing or fever, keep them home until symptoms subside, doctors said. You should be doing that anyway.
"With the amount of COVID that's around, parents should definitely keep the child out of school and see their primary care doctor to make sure they don't have COVID," said Dr. Tina Tan, a pediatric infectious disease physician at Lurie Children's Hospital of Chicago.
You may want to keep a few rapid COVID tests at home as well. Keep in mind that the results are not completely reliable.
According to an analysis of 48 studies that evaluated rapid antigen tests' accuracy, among people who had COVID, the tests correctly identified the infection in 72% of those with symptoms but in only 58% of those without symptoms. Among uninfected people, the tests accurately ruled out COVID in at least 99% of people, whether or not they had symptoms.
"It's important to have the ability to do rapid testing," said Dr. Sara Bode, a pediatrician who directs school health services at Nationwide Children's Hospital in Columbus, Ohio, and helped write the American Academy of Pediatrics' COVID guidance for schools. "If positive, it allows the school to quickly identify, quarantine and contact-trace. If negative, it allows the child quickly back in school without losing … instructional time."
Once you determine your child doesn't have COVID, keep them home until they have not had a fever for 24 hours and feel well enough to go back to school, similar to the way you would handle any other viral illness. Children infected with COVID will need to stay home for at least 10 days after their symptoms started or, if they're asymptomatic, 10 days after their first positive COVID test.
Q: Should parents test unvaccinated kids regularly for COVID?
"The simple answer is no," Tan said. However, if the child is sick or has been exposed to someone known to have COVID, they need to be tested.
In some school districts, if a child feels sick, nurses can do a rapid test to identify illness. Even if they can't be tested, students falling ill will likely be sent to a nurse or administrator and separated from classmates.
"School nurses would assess the student, and if they had symptoms of COVID they'd be isolated in a room" until a parent could be called and the student sent home, said Linda Mendonça, president of the National Association of School Nurses.
Q: Should parents follow the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's updated recommendation for all kids to wear masks at school this fall, regardless of vaccination status, even in areas that prohibit mask mandates and where mask-wearing isn't routine?
Yes. "If other people aren't concerned about the public health risk, that's on them," Tan said. "But you should do the best for you and your child."
Mask-wearing should not be presented as a big deal, Bode said. Parents can calmly explain that masking is important to keep kids safe at school, and that it's something the whole family does when they go somewhere indoors.
In areas where masks are optional, ask the school how it plans to handle the issue.
"As a parent, you can advocate for a mask mandate even if [politicians say] you shouldn't," Offit said.
Q: Should kids wear N95 masks to be safe?
That's not necessary. Disposable surgical masks or cloth masks with at least two layers are fine, experts say.
"The best mask is one the child will keep on," Bode said.
Q: What about playground time? Do kids need masks outside?
According to the CDC and the pediatrics academy, kids don't generally need masks outdoors, unless they're in a crowd or near others a long time.
Q: What about indoor activities like choir and band? Should parents discourage kids from participating in activities that involve close contact and where the risk of inhaling respiratory droplets is high?
No. Schools figured out safe ways to offer these activities last year and can do so again this year, Bode said. In these situations, it's important that schools create layers of risk protection, she said. Practice outdoors if possible, and make sure students remain at least 3 feet apart.
Special masks for singers fit tightly around the face but bow out to leave more room for children to project their voices, she said. Likewise, there are masks with openings for band members' mouths and also covers to catch droplets that might escape from the open ends of instruments.
Q: Do parents need to sanitize bookbags and other items when kids come home from school?
No. "At first, it looked like a virus that would spread on surfaces," Offit said. "But now we know that it is primarily transmitted through respiratory droplets."
Q: What else can parents do to make sure kids are as safe as possible at school?
Even if kids can't get the COVID vaccine, make sure they're current on the rest of their shots, Tan said.
"We've seen a significant decline in the number of kids who aren't up to date on routine immunizations," Tan said. Avoiding outbreaks of vaccine-preventable illnesses is key to a healthy school year.
While some doctors appreciate seeing records of home-monitored blood pressure, exercise and the like between visits, for others the data is more of a burden than an asset.
This article was published on Thursday, August 12, 2021 in Kaiser Health News.
Soon, Apple announced recently, it will enable doctors to monitor health data from their patients' phones and watches between visits, part of the push into healthcare that Tim Cook, Apple's CEO, has declared will constitute the company's greatest contribution to mankind.
Since 2014, health systems around the country have partnered with Apple to tap into the mountains of data the company's devices generate from patients. But most are still experimenting with these tools. While some doctors appreciate seeing records of home-monitored blood pressure, exercise and the like between visits, for others the data is more of a burden than an asset.
Some see great promise in building "pipes" between a patient's phone and the health records viewed by their clinicians. Apple is "democratizing the flow of health data" between doctors and patients, said Anil Sethi, a former Apple health director and current CEO of Ciitizen, a startup that manages health data for cancer patients.
But Apple's announcement was shrouded in ambiguity and short on particulars. The company would not provide a complete list of the data patients can share with doctors and declined to comment for this article. Previous Apple moves to get more data into the hands of doctors have been announced with great fanfare, but questions remain as to how many healthcare providers are using the data and to what effect, and whether success stories are the norm or outliers. To date, rigorous studies showing clear health benefits from monitoring these types of data remain limited.
Although Apple has built pipes enabling patients to share growing amounts of data with medical professionals, it's unclear how much data flows through them.
In 2014, Apple released HealthKit, a tool enabling health systems to pull in patients' health data, with their permission, from their iPhones. At the time, then-Mayo Clinic CEO John Noseworthy said this would "revolutionize how the health industry interacts with people." But a Mayo spokesperson told KHN the system's use of HealthKit is now limited.
Cedars-Sinai Medical Center said in 2015 that, through HealthKit, more than 87,000 patients had been able to share their data, an arrangement Cook touted on a quarterly earnings call. A Cedars-Sinai spokesperson declined to comment on what became of this project.
Even Apple's attempts to use its own employees' app data to improve their medical care have yet to pan out. The Wall Street Journal reported that an Apple initiative testing a new primary care service for doctors to monitor Apple employees' health through their devices had stalled. The company said many of the story's assertions were inaccurate.
There have been a few reports of success. Ochsner Health in Louisiana reported that patients in a hypertension management program that provided health coaching while monitoring blood pressure data from mobile phones were more likely than a control group to get their blood pressure under control, follow their medication regimen and feel satisfied with their care. The health system now also has remote monitoring programs for diabetes, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and expectant mothers, an Ochsner spokesperson said.
And Epic, the nation's largest health records company, said that over 100 of its large health system clients are using Apple HealthKit to capture data from home monitoring devices like blood pressure cuffs.
But patient-generated data has not been widely adopted in healthcare, said Dr. Benjamin Rosner, an associate professor of medicine at the University of California-San Francisco. He and others point out major hurdles.
One, Rosner said, is that evidence is mixed that monitoring such data improves health.
Another is that doctors generally aren't reimbursed by health insurers for reviewing data that patients collect at home.
"In America, we generally pay doctors and health systems to see patients in front of them and do things to them when they show up," said Matthew Holt, a health technology startup adviser.
In instances in which doctors can be reimbursed for remotely monitoring patients, like those with certain chronic conditions, the payment is usually low, Rosner said.
And many doctors already feel inundated with patient health information and electronic health record tasks.
"Primary care doctors are overwhelmed by their inboxes," said Dr. Rebekah Gardner, an associate professor of medicine at Brown University. "Before people start buying Apple Watches and sending all their sleep hours, let's show that this improves health."
She said she wants to see more rigorous, independently funded studies showing that monitoring data from wearable devices makes people healthier or improves their care.
Liability concerns weigh on some doctors' minds. Dr. Oguchi Nkwocha, a community health center physician-executive in Salinas, California, worries he could be held liable if he missed something in "a diary of data," but said he might be more open to data that was analyzed and presented with predictive insights.
Apple isn't the only tech company that has struggled to make health app data-sharing mainstream. Both Google and Microsoft enabled patients to share their data in their personal health record products over a decade ago but shut down these businesses because of limited user adoption, Holt noted.
Optimists believe that, eventually, research will show that more forms of data monitoring lead to better health and that technology could help make the data more digestible for doctors. Then, Apple might succeed in making its apps part of medicine — assuming the payment system changes in a way that gives providers more incentives to identify problems early and intervene before people get critically ill, Holt said.
"This is exciting for the future of chronic care management," Dr. David Cho, a UCLA Health cardiologist, said of the new feature. With data at his fingertips on risk factors like exercise, diet and blood pressure, he believes he could help his patients manage chronic conditions more easily. That data, combined with virtual visits, could mean fewer office visits.
Apple's announcement that it can integrate patient-generated data into the electronic medical record could be critical for doctors who want to see their patients' self-collected information but don't have time to hunt for it, said Dr. Seth Berkowitz, who leads a remote monitoring app pilot program at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston.
Some patients welcome a feature that would make it easy to share data with their doctors. Jen Horonjeff, a New York City-based autoimmune disorder patient and healthcare startup CEO, recently discovered by using an Apple Watch tracker that her heart rate, which doctors had described as irregular, registered as normal.
"I would absolutely send this to my physicians," Horonjeff said, noting that her data would give doctors an accurate baseline of her heart rate if she were hospitalized.
But Gary Wolf of Berkeley, California, co-founder of the Quantified Self, a movement of people who track their health and other personal data, said that finding a doctor trained to make decisions with "fine-resolution data" is impossible.
Without more evidence that getting health app data to doctors is clinically beneficial, it will be hard to assess whether Apple is succeeding, said Neil Sehgal, assistant professor of health policy at the University of Maryland.
"Right now, we don't know if there are consequences if you don't put your Apple Watch data into your electronic medical record," he said.
If evidence ultimately shows a benefit to sharing this information with doctors, he said, "that benefit will be concentrated among people who can buy the $1,000 phone and $400 watch."
Sorry, Joe Namath. Despite what you keep saying in those TV ads, under Medicare, seniors are not "entitled to eliminate copays and get dental care, dentures, eyeglasses, prescription drug coverage, in-home aides, unlimited transportation and home-delivered meals, all at no additional cost." But if Democratic lawmakers in Congress have their say, seniors could soon be entitled to some of those services.
Namath's commercial is hawking private Medicare Advantage plans, which frequently do offer benefits traditional Medicare does not — in exchange for being limited to certain doctors and hospitals. "Traditional" Medicare does not cover many benefits used overwhelmingly by its beneficiaries, including most vision, dental and hearing care, and drug coverage is available only by purchasing a separate insurance plan — Medicare Part D.
But Democrats in the House and Senate plan to try to change that as soon as this fall. On Monday, Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer released an outline of a coming budget bill that includes a directive to the Senate Finance Committee to expand Medicare "to include dental, vision, hearing benefits." The catch — all the Democrats in the Senate and almost all in the House will have to agree on the entire budget bill for it to become law.
Still, that raises a question about Medicare: Why has it taken so long to add such obviously needed benefits?
As with almost everything to do with the U.S. health system, the answer is complicated, and a combination of policy and politics.
"Medicare is the kind of program where you'd expect the benefits would be expanded over and over again. It's popular, and benefits expansions poll well," said Jonathan Oberlander, a professor of health policy at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill and author of the book "The Political Life of Medicare." "It's one of the great puzzles of Medicare politics: why benefit expansions have been so rare."
In fact, in the 56 years since Medicare became law, only a few benefits have been added to the package, which was created to emulate a 1965 Blue Cross/Blue Shield plan. During the 1980s and '90s some preventive care was added, like pneumonia vaccines and mammograms. Republicans spearheaded the addition of prescription drug coverage in 2003, when they controlled both Congress and the White House. But they decided to make that coverage separate from the program's traditional benefit package.
Other efforts to expand benefits have not gone so well. In 1988, a bipartisan effort in Congress produced the Medicare Catastrophic Coverage Act, which would have added drug coverage to traditional Medicare and also would have plugged a hole: the fact that there is no limit on the amount patients can be charged for their share of covered services. That law, however, was repealed just a year later after seniors rebelled against being asked to foot most of the bill for the new benefits via a new income "surtax." Today, Medicare beneficiaries still face the risk of unlimited expenses.
Medicare is funded by a combination of money paid directly to the government from paychecks and taxes paid by working Americans and their employers. That brings us to another big reason Medicare's benefit package hasn't been beefed up more — the cost of the current program.
"When Medicare was created, its architects assumed expansion, both in terms of population and in terms of benefits later," said Oberlander. "They didn't anticipate the shift in American politics to the right, and they didn't anticipate that Medicare would be labeled a fiscal problem and that policymakers would be more concerned with avoiding the next trust fund shortfall than expanding benefits."
Indeed, in the '80s and '90s, Medicare spending was more often restrained than expanded. A series of budget reconciliation bills trimmed millions of dollars out of Medicare — usually at the expense of payment to doctors, hospitals and other health providers.
As the years wore on, Medicare has remained popular, but it has grown less generous than most private insurance policies. Many Medicare patients, however, have been able to find supplemental coverage to fill in what Medicare does not cover, through private "Medigap" policies, employer-provided retiree plans or Medicaid for those with low incomes. Increasingly popular in recent years have been those Medicare managed-care plans, now known as Medicare Advantage, that were first authorized in 1982 and often provide extra benefits for members.
All of that "has taken some of the pressure off" lawmakers to expand the program, Oberlander said. And a final reason that vision, hearing and dental care have not been added to standard Medicare is that they are far from the most critical gaps in Medicare's benefit package.
For example, Medicare does not cover long-term custodial care — the sort of non-nursing, personal care that provides assistance in activities of daily living such as bathing, dressing, eating, getting in or out of a bed or chair, using the bathroom or preparing food. Custodial care tends to be both very expensive ($50,000 to $100,000 a year or more) and needed by a large number of beneficiaries, particularly after age 80. Efforts over the years to create a government long-term care benefit have been largely unsuccessful. A very limited program, the CLASS Act, was part of the Affordable Care Act in 2010 but was repealed before it could take effect because its financing was deemed insufficient. President Joe Biden has called for Congress to include billions of dollars for caregiving in the infrastructure package Democrats will work on this fall.
Also, as previously mentioned, traditional Medicare includes no limits on patient cost sharing — the percentage or amount of a medical bill that a beneficiary must pay. Its basic hospital benefit runs out after 90 days, and the 20% coinsurance (the percentage patients are responsible for) on outpatient care runs indefinitely.
So why are dental, vision and hearing coverage on the front burner now as lawmakers consider beefing up the program? Part may be self-serving for lawmakers tasked with appropriating funds. All three benefits "are less expensive than [adding] nursing home" coverage, said Oberlander.
But a big part is politics. On the campaign trail, Biden promised to lower Medicare's eligibility age from 65 to 60. "Medicare for All" advocates like Senate Budget Committee Chair Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) pledged to try to do the same, and lowering the eligibility age is included in the outline Schumer shared with Senate Democrats as an option.
But lowering the eligibility age is vehemently opposed by hospitals and other health providers, who fear they will lose money if people currently covered by higher-paying private insurance are covered by Medicare instead. That makes benefits expansion the much easier choice for Congress.
That is not saying it will happen. The Congressional Budget Office said the vision, hearing and dental benefits included in a bill passed by the House in 2019 would have cost an estimated $358 billion over 10 years. But this is the closest the benefits have gotten to enactment since Medicare's inception.
HealthBent, a regular feature of Kaiser Health News, offers insight and analysis of policies and politics from KHN's chief Washington correspondent, Julie Rovner, who has covered healthcare for more than 30 years.
As the spread of the delta variant threatens the safety of classrooms, a poll released Wednesday found nearly two-thirds of parents support schools' requiring unvaccinated students age 5 or older and teachers to wear masks. A majority of parents, however, oppose requiring students now eligible for a COVID vaccine to get one, with one Black parent from Michigan telling pollsters that "my child is not a test dummy."
The strong public opinions come as the politics over classroom masking grows more heated with the start of the school year, particularly in Florida and Texas. Florida's Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis has issued an executive order giving parents the authority to decide whether their kids should be masked, but several large school districts are maintaining their masking mandates. The Dallas and Austin school districts are also defying a ban on mask mandates issued by Texas Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican.
The KFF COVID-19 poll found that, nationally, 63% of parents favored mandatory masking for unvaccinated children ages 5 to 17. (KHN is an editorially independent program of KFF.)
Predictably, views on masking and vaccination split consistently along party lines, with Democratic parents generally supporting them and Republicans much more resistant. Sixty-nine percent of Republican parents oppose mandatory masking. More than three-quarters of Black parents and Hispanic parents support mask requirements while only a slim majority of white parents back masks.
As of July, 41% of parents of children ages 12-17 said their kids had been vaccinated. An additional 6% said they wanted to get them vaccinated promptly, and 23% said they wanted to "wait and see." Nine percent said they would get them vaccinated only if required and 20% said they would definitely not. "I think my child is healthy enough to battle the COVID-19 virus without a vaccine," a Hispanic mother from Georgia told pollsters.
Some parents said the resistance to vaccination sprung from their children and they were reluctant to compel them. "I gave him a choice," one white parent from Idaho told the pollsters. "He chose not to." A white mother from Wisconsin said that while she had encouraged her teenager to get vaccinated, "I don't feel comfortable forcing him to get it since he is 17 and nearly an adult."
Unsurprisingly, resistance to vaccinating their child was strongest among unvaccinated parents, with half saying they would not want to allow the shots under any circumstance. Nearly three-quarters of unvaccinated parents said they considered the vaccine more dangerous than COVID to their child's health. The disease has killed nearly 613,000 Americans to date.
Opposition to school-mandated vaccination was high, with only 42% of parents of students ages 12-17 favoring it. Support was strongest among Hispanics, with 51% in favor, but only 38% of whites and 32% of Blacks agreed with school-required vaccination.
The resistance to COVID vaccines does not reflect opposition to inoculation in general, the poll found. Nine out of 10 parents said they normally keep their children up to date on recommended shots such as those for measles, mumps or rubella. Yet among parents of 12- to 17-year-olds who say their children are up to date on other vaccinations, fewer than half of the children had been vaccinated for COVID-19.
Among parents with unvaccinated teens, 88% held concerns that not enough was known about the long-term effects of the vaccine in children; 79% were worried about side effects; 73% feared the vaccine might adversely affect their teens' fertility later in life; and 65% were concerned children would be mandated to get vaccinated even if their parents objected.
Overall, qualms about vaccinating teens were common even among parents who had gotten a shot, but strongest among parents who themselves had not been inoculated.
Hispanic and Black parents of unvaccinated teens were more likely than white parents to fear they might have to take time off from work to get their child vaccinated or need to stay home if their child experienced side effects. They also were more likely to worry it would be difficult to get to a vaccination site and whether they could trust the vaccine providers.
So far, no vaccine has been authorized for children under 12, but most of their parents remain cautious. Just 26% said they will get their school-age children vaccinated as soon as possible. An additional 40% plan to wait and see, and most of the remainder said they will refuse even if it is required.
The survey of 1,259 parents of children under age 18 was conducted by telephone July 15-Aug. 2. The pollsters noted most of the interviews were conducted before the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's most recent data on the magnitude of the threat of the delta variant. The margin of error for the full sample is plus or minus 4 percentage points and plus or minus 5 points for parents of children ages 12 to 17.
The CDC's recent guidance on students and masking "lacks a well-grounded scientific justification." -- Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis in a July 30 executive order.
This article was published on Wednesday, August 11, 2021 in Kaiser Health News.
On July 30, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis issued an executive order stating that schools couldn't mandate that their students wear masks, and that it should be up to parents to decide whether they want their children masked in school buildings. The order also said the state can deny funding to districts that don't comply.
One part of the order particularly caught our attention because of what it said about masks: "WHEREAS, despite recent Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) 'guidance,' forcing students to wear masks lacks a well-grounded scientific justification; indeed, a Brown University study analyzed COVID-19 data for schools in Florida and found no correlation with mask mandates."
The executive order came on the heels of the CDC guidelines for reopening K-12 schools, which recommended that everyone age 2 and up should wear masks whether they are vaccinated or not. This guidance was issued partly because of the increase in COVID cases due to the delta variant, which is more contagious than other versions of the virus. It was also issued because COVID vaccines have not yet been authorized for use in children under age 12.
During the pandemic, DeSantis, a Republican, has consistently taken positions contrary to public health guidance from experts and said he wants Florida to remain open.
"In Florida, there will be no lockdowns, there will be no school closures, there will be no restrictions and no mandates," DeSantis said during a speech introducing the executive order, which drew immediate pushback. President Joe Biden criticized his position and a group of Florida parents filed a lawsuit to block the order.
But the state is currently considered a COVID hot spot. New COVID-19 cases jumped to 28,000 on Sunday and total COVID-related hospitalizations to almost 14,000 on Monday — numbers that surpassed previous statewide records. For context, in Florida there were 2,500 new COVID cases and a seven-day average of 229 hospitalizations reported two months earlier, on June 6, before the delta variant surge.
DeSantis' executive order cites a Brown University study to support his argument that schools can't mandate masks.
We reached out to DeSantis' office to confirm the role of that study and to ask if any other research was involved in the development of the executive order.
Press secretary Christina Pushaw replied with a statement reiterating the governor's position that studies have shown COVID's spread in schools is typically less than within the larger community and that science has yet to substantiate the effectiveness of masks in reducing what she said was "an already very low risk of COVID-19 in children." She acknowledged that the delta variant has been shown to be more transmissible — which means it could increase children's risk — "but that is only a working theory as no studies have shown that conclusively."
That made us wonder about key elements of the executive order — specifically, whether the Brown study indeed illustrated that mask mandates didn't prevent transmission of COVID-19 and if it's correct that "forcing students to wear masks lacks a well-grounded scientific justification."
The Brown Study
We reached out to Emily Oster, a professor of economics at Brown University, and the lead author of the study that DeSantis' order references. Oster became well known during the pandemic for issuing data-driven recommendations on parenting and schooling. Some experts, though, have taken issue with her being an economist and not an epidemiologist.
Oster told us she couldn't participate in a direct interview about the study, but she sent us this statement:
"We did not consult with Gov. DeSantis on these issues. Our paper is currently a pre-print, undergoing peer review. It relies on data from the 2020-2021 school year, prior to the emergence of the more contagious delta variant. Current CDC guidance, taking into account the current virus situation and all available data on masking, suggests masking for all K-12 students and staff, regardless of vaccination status."
The study analyzed whether mask mandates in school districts in Florida and other states influenced the number of COVID cases among students and staff members by looking at mitigation strategies as well as COVID case counts. The researchers found that staff rates of COVID were slightly higher in districts without mask mandates, but the difference was not statistically significant. Overall, no correlation was found between mask mandates and COVID cases in students.
But within the study itself, the authors wrote about the limitations of their methods.
For instance, the study looked only at whether mandates existed at particular schools — not at the mask-wearing behavior of students and staffers. The study also didn't account for mitigation measures that might have been in place in the surrounding community, which would influence case counts.
At the end of the study, the authors offer a conclusion that undermines the executive order: "We would emphasize that in general this literature suggests in-person school can be operated safely with appropriate mitigation, which typically includes universal masking. It would be premature to draw any alternative conclusions about this question based on this preliminary data."
Justin Lessler, an epidemiology professor at the University of North Carolina, who led a peer-reviewed study that found masking in schools was associated with a significantly reduced risk of COVID transmission, said he didn't think this Brown study showed any strong conclusions to support the governor's position.
"I think the lack of correlation with mask mandates at the population level is pretty weak evidence," Lessler wrote in an email. "Also, mechanistically, it is a little hard to believe masking would not have some effect."
Other Studies on Masks in Schools and COVID in Children
Dr. Lynn Goldman, dean of the Milken Institute of Public Health at George Washington University, said masks are absolutely effective in reducing COVID transmission in children.
"What the science actually shows is that for children ages 2 and above, masks are not only protective but needed," said Goldman, who is also a pediatrician. Since "those kids who are below the age of 12 cannot yet have the vaccine so they don't have that layer of protection."
The CDC guidance also cites several CDC-ledstudies that show the benefits of masking in schools, while independentresearchers have shown similar results. Masking was often combined with other efforts to reduce spread, including improved ventilation and filtration systems.
These points counter a claim central to DeSantis' executive order: that the CDC school-reopening guidance "lacks a well-grounded scientific justification."
"I think this 'whereas' of DeSantis' executive order is just false, it's just patently false," said Dr. Jeffrey Goldhagen, a pediatrics professor at the University of Florida Health in Jacksonville.
What About Infection Risks for Children?
Though studies early in the pandemic did seem to indicate children were less likely to get COVID than adults, current CDC data suggests that no longer seems to be the case.
CDCdata through March 2021 shows that COVID infection and symptomatic illness in children ages 5 to 17 was comparable to infection and illness in adults ages 18 to 49. Studies have also shown that even if children have mild or asymptomatic cases of COVID they can spread the disease to adults who may then develop more severe cases — meaning children can be significant vectors of disease.
Children also are susceptible to the delta variant, which is more transmissible than the alpha variant.
Goldhagen said he has already anecdotally heard and seen the spread of the delta variant among children in camps and in schools that have started their semesters.
Pediatric COVID hospitalizations have also been increasing in Florida in the past week, likely due to the delta variant, and there are reports that some children are experiencing serious symptoms. "The increase in the number of patients that we have in our children's hospital due to COVID has increased 500%," Goldhagen, who is also a pediatrician at Wolfson Children's Hospital in Jacksonville, told us on Aug. 5.
Our Ruling
DeSantis' July 30 executive order missed the mark with its claim that "forcing students to wear masks lacks a well-grounded scientific justification."
It also cited a Brown University study as scientific evidence that there is no correlation between mask mandates and reduced COVID spread. However, while that study didn't show a correlation, its authors noted the study's limitations and concluded that appropriate mitigation typically includes universal masking. It flatly stated it would be premature to draw other conclusions based on the researchers' preliminary data. Multiple studies also show masking in schools does have an effect on preventing COVID transmission.
DeSantis' executive order cherry-picked a study that offers little basis for his position and includes a variety of elements that are not accurate. We rate this False.
Source List
ABC Science Collaborative, Final Report, June 2021
Hospitals coast to coast are demanding their employees get vaccinated against COVID as the highly contagious delta variant tears through populations with low vaccination rates.
Nearly 1,500 hospitals — roughly a quarter of all hospitals in the U.S. —now require staffers to get a COVID vaccine, said Colin Milligan, a spokesperson for the American Hospital Association. More follow suit every day as hospital leaders aim to head off staff shortages like those experienced last year and to keep employees from becoming vectors of the disease.
But that's not an option in Montana, where a law passed this year amid a pandemic backlash prohibits employers, including most healthcare facilities, from mandating any vaccine for their staffs. Nor is it in Oregon, where a 32-year-old law similarly bans vaccine mandates for health workers.
At least seven states have enacted laws to prevent COVID vaccine mandates or so-called vaccine passports that would provide proof of vaccination, according to the National Academy for State Health Policy. Most restrict only state and local governments or specifically exempt healthcare facilities, but Montana's law goes further. It prohibits employers — including hospitals — from discriminating against a worker based on vaccination status. Employers can't require vaccinations and workers don't have to tell their bosses whether they're vaccinated.
That worries hospital leaders as COVID hospitalizations hit levels not seen nationally since February. In Montana, COVID hospitalizations had nearly doubled at the beginning of August compared with two weeks before, and about 90% of COVID patients hospitalized at the end of July hadn't been vaccinated, according to the Montana health department's most recent data.
"I cannot imagine passing any worse law than that," said John Goodnow, CEO of Benefis Health in Great Falls. "Imagine if that would have been passed back when we were fighting polio, or smallpox before that."
Those who back the law said it's an issue of personal rights.
"Your healthcare decisions are private, they're protected by the constitution of the state of Montana," Rep. Jennifer Carlson, a Republican, said in March as she introduced the bill. "And your religious rights are protected."
Healthcare professionals are more likely to be vaccinated against COVID than the general population. Nonetheless, there remain nurses, doctors and other hospital employees who work directly with patients who are hesitant or resistant to inoculation, especially in rural regions.
Dr. Greg Tierney, chief medical officer of Benefis, said he's concerned about potential rancor between vaccinated and unvaccinated staff members as their workload rises with the caseload.
"You have the people who have been vaccinated looking at the person next to him who's choosing not to," Tierney said. "Whereas, they were literally brethren in arms."
In northwestern Montana, a region with a 34% vaccination rate to date and the epicenter of the state's latest surge, Logan Health officials said existing staffing shortages are worsening as healthcare workers become infected or must quarantine. Chief medical officer Dr. Doug Nelson said the shots have been proven safe and effective, and Logan would likely consider a staff vaccine mandate if state law allowed it.
"Wearing a mask whenever you're in our facilities, that helps, but being able to vaccinate everyone would help more," Nelson said.
In Billings, Montana's most populated city, the Billings Clinic's intensive care unit reached capacity the first week of August and officials started shifting patients to overflow beds. At that time, roughly 60% of the system's employees reported being vaccinated.
Hospital leaders are hosting weekly town halls to answer clinic workers' vaccine questions or try to dispel myths in between caring for a growing number of COVID patients.
"Knowing there are solutions out there that can help prevent this from happening, like simple vaccination, makes you frustrated," said Dr. Fernando Caceres, an intensivist in Billings Clinic's ICU.
In July, nearly 60 major U.S. medical organizations called for employers to mandate all health and long-term care workers get vaccinated in a joint statement that included the American Medical Association and the American Nurses Association. The Department of Veterans Affairs gave healthcare personnel eight weeks to get the shot.
In August, California became the first state to order workers in healthcare settings to be fully vaccinated and for visitors in health settings to show proof of vaccination or a negative COVID test. And in Massachusetts, Republican Gov. Charlie Baker ordered most nursing home workers to get the jab by October 10, citing a massive increase in cases among staffers and residents.
Some hospitals have had to enforce their mandates. In Texas in June, Houston Methodist fired or accepted the resignations of more than 150 healthcare workers who didn't get the jab.
Trinity Health — a Catholic health system with 117,000 workers across 22 states — said employees without a shot or exemption would be fired.
"Trinity Health has counted our own colleagues and patients in the too-high coronavirus death toll," Mike Slubowski, the organization's president and CEO, said in the announcement. "Now that we have a proven way to prevent COVID-19 deaths, we are not hesitating to do our part."
How Trinity's policy will work in Oregon, where the three-decade-old law prevents vaccine requirements, is unclear
Attempts to change the law won't happen before next year's legislative session, Democratic Gov. Kate Brown said. In the meantime, she issued a rule last week to pressure healthcare workers to get vaccinated, saying they will face weekly COVID tests if they don't — and their employers will foot the bill.
"This new safety measure is necessary to stop delta from causing severe illness among our first line of defense: our doctors, nurses, medical students and frontline healthcare workers," Brown said in the statement. Before Brown's announcement, Kaiser Permanente, a national health system based in California, had said all of its employees must be vaccinated against COVID — even those in Oregon. (KHN, which produces California Healthline, is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.)
After Brown's announcement, KP spokesperson Michael Foley said those who don't get the vaccine in Oregon will undergo weekly testing; employees in other states, however, will have to apply for medical or religious exemptions or find a new job if they refuse to be vaccinated.
Hundreds of orthopedists and neurosurgeons have cashed in on stakes in companies that design, manufacture or distribute orthopedic implants — sometimes after investing little or no money.
This article was published on Tuesday, August 10, 2021 in Kaiser Health News.
Several orthopedic surgeons who invested in Renovis Surgical Technologies made big money when a Japanese technology giant snatched up the small California medical device company.
Kyocera Corp., which was eager to expand its U.S. spine and joint implant sales, bought Renovis' assets in 2019. While the parties kept the sale price under wraps, Renovis' physician stockholders held stakes valued at over $34 million by the end of that year, with nearly half that sum to company founder and chief executive Dr. John Steinmann, according to the federal government's "Open Payments" database, which tracks payments to doctors from device and drug companies.
Hundreds of orthopedists and neurosurgeons have cashed in on stakes in companies that design, manufacture or distribute orthopedic implants — sometimes after investing little or no money — and despite ongoing ethical and legal concerns, a KHN investigation has found.
KHN found that surgeons had stakes in more than 200 privately owned device companies from 2013 through 2019. At the end of 2019, their holdings topped $300 million in value. Doctors can dispute the payments but rarely do so.
Device makers often reach out to orthopedic surgeons for help designing or evaluating new implants, a practice they say spurs innovation and leads to safer, more durable devices. Offering feedback can land surgeons lucrative royalty and consulting deals or stock holdings that escalate in value when startup device companies are sold. In other cases, surgeons have owned a piece of distributorships that buy implants from manufacturers and resell them at a profit.
Dr. John Steinmann speaks during a Senate Finance Committee hearing on Nov. 17, 2015.
Whistleblowers and government fraud fighters have argued for years that money passing from industry to doctors can corrupt medical judgment, inflate costs and lead to unnecessary operations or otherwise harm patients.
Some of the harshest criticism has been directed at surgeons who profit from the sale of orthopedic devices — from spinal implants and screws and other hardware to artificial knees and hips that typically cost thousands of dollars. Federal officials warned as far back as 2013 that these sales could violate federal anti-kickback laws.
Steinmann, a Southern California orthopedic surgeon, has been a staunch defender of the profitable distribution companies and has held a stake in at least nine of them, according to Open Payments data. He and four other surgeons at Arrowhead Orthopedics in Redlands, California, were paid nearly $2.5 million in "dividend, profit or other return on investment" by a single distributorship of implants in 2019, according to the database.
The biggest surgeon investors in implant maker Renovis also owned a stake in distributorships. Steinmann received $16.4 million in "ownership and investment interest" from Renovis in 2019, according to Open Payments data, which says he invested $6.7 million in the company. Five other surgeons had holdings worth $1 million or more, according to the data.
Steinmann told KHN that he and the other surgeons invested millions in Renovis and worked for years building it. "We earned every dollar that we made," he said. Renovis developed innovative products over a decade and the investment return was "good, but not out of line in any respect," Steinmann said. He added: "I didn't do any better than if I invested in the stock market. I don't think it is fair to say otherwise."
In testimony before Congress, Steinmann has conceded that a few "bad apples" may have endangered patients by performing needless, or overly complex, operations for quick profits on implant sales, but testified his distribution companies have operated legally and ethically and have saved hospitals millions of dollars on implants.
Critics counter that surgeons should collect only professional fees for operating on patients — and steer clear of taking profits from devices they choose to implant in patients. Orthopedic and neurosurgeons typically earn upward of $500,000 annually for their professional services and are among the highest-paid specialists in medicine.
"Doing surgery is a loss leader for what you can get for selling your own products," said Dr. James Rickert, an orthopedic surgeon and head of the Society for Patient Centered Orthopedics, an advocacy group.
A 'Crowded and Cutthroat Field'
The orthopedic surgery industry is awash in cash; more than $3.1 billion flowed from device makers to surgeons from August 2013 through 2019, according to KHN's analysis of payments that device makers reported to the government-run website.
Much of that money paid surgeons for consulting work, including helping to market new products to their peers, or royalties for inventing or fine-tuning surgical tools.
"Orthopedic surgeons are the type who design things. That is inherent in their nature," said Mark Weiss, a California lawyer who represents physicians.
They also accounted for nearly a third of physicians with stakes in device and drug companies of $250,000 or more during 2019. While some surgeons lost money, many saw their stakes in these companies shoot up in value.
Consider Parcus Medical, a Sarasota, Florida device maker with a self-described "lust for innovation and creativity." Parcus, which takes its name from the Latin word for "thrifty," specializes in implants for repairing sports injuries. Massachusetts-based Anika Therapeutics swallowed it for $35 million in January 2020, and 22 surgeon investors saw their Parcus holdings at least triple in value, Open Payments records show.
Dr. Brian McKeon, a Waltham, Massachusetts, orthopedic surgeon and former head physician for the Boston Celtics of the NBA, held Parcus stock in 2019 valued at just over $1.4 million based on an investment of $146,000, according to the Open Payments database. The site states that McKeon did not dispute the figures as posted. But in an email to KHN, McKeon called the Open Payments numbers "way off," adding "if you find that money please forward to me." He said he invested in the company in 2006 and has disclosed ownership interest to his patients.
Also in January 2020, Anika Therapeutics paid $60 million for implant company Arthrosurface, which had about 20 surgeon investors; nine paid just $1 for their shares of stock, according to the company. These investments grew in value from $12,600 to $151,200 in 2019, depending on the surgeon, Open Payments records show.
Mark Namaroff, Anika's executive director for investor relations and corporate communications, said that most of the surgeons invested in the companies prior to the acquisition.
"It was also our understanding that Arthrosurface granted certain surgeons (likely those referenced as paying $1 for stock) common stock in the company during the company's early years as compensation for services rendered or inventions assigned to the company. As the investments by these individuals all took place prior to our purchase of the companies, we can't provide additional information about them," he wrote in an email.
Both Parcus and Arthrosurface had prominent sports orthopedists among their owners, including a dozen who have served as medical consultants to professional sports or U.S. Olympic teams.
It is legal for doctors to work for, or own a piece of, a medical business as long as their compensation is not tied to the volume of its products they use and provided that medical decisions are made in the best interests of patients. Several surgeons' organizations encourage members to keep detailed records of the services they provide, accept only "fair market" compensation from device makers, and fully disclose industry ties to patients and their peers in scientific journal articles and professional meetings.
Device companies are not required to specify what work surgeons did to justify their stock awards, which more than 100 companies have granted to one or more surgeons who invested $100 or less, according to Open Payments data.
Stock can skyrocket in value after a device company's sale.
That happened with Titan Spine, a titanium implant maker in Mequon, Wisconsin, bought by industry giant Medtronic in June 2019. In all, two dozen physician investors received more than $17 million in payments. The company reported that a few who put up no money of their own between 2014 and 2019 gained shares worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. One was Dr. Andrew Cappuccino, an orthopedic surgeon and team doctor for the NFL's Buffalo Bills, who received "vested LLC units" valued at $387,500, according to the company's report to Open Payments for 2019. Cappuccino had no comment.
A spokesman for Medtronic said: "Collaboration with physicians is critical to innovation and the development of medical devices that save and improve the lives of patients, as well as the training of surgeons who use them."
Not all investors were happy with their financial gains, however. Utah orthopedic surgeon Dr. Kade Huntsman is among a group of doctors and former Titan sales executives suing the company, for which he once worked as a consultant. The lawsuit calls Titan a "glittering Cinderella success story in an otherwise crowded and cutthroat spinal implant field."
Huntsman argues he dwelt on the "dark side" of the fairy tale after spending years providing "the voice, prestige and reputation" that made Titan's products appealing to surgeons.
In legal filings, Huntsman said a Titan sales executive brought him into the fold in April 2014 and persuaded him to try out a Titan device in the operating room. He was so impressed with it that he quickly became "one of the company's top utilizers" of hardware, according to the suit. Through his lawyer, Huntsman declined to comment.
Huntsman said in the lawsuit that Titan regarded him as a "potential game-changing advocate" for its implants. He talked up Titan's products at spinal surgery conferences and later taught other surgeons how to use them, according to the suit.
Huntsman agreed to help develop a new spinal fusion implant for Titan and was "certain it would be groundbreaking" — so much so that he declined a salary in favor of company "membership units," according to the suit.
But he alleged that Titan executives restructured his holdings, so that upon the sale to Medtronic for more than $150 million he saw a return of $180,000, "far less than the $828,750 he calculated he was entitled to receive," according to the suit. Medtronic denied the allegations and filed a motion to dismiss the case. In June, a judge in Milwaukee dismissed most of the case. Medtronic and Titan are opposing a bid by the plaintiffs to amend their complaint, calling it "futile," court records state.
'Corruption of Their Medical Judgment'
More than a decade ago, then-New Jersey Attorney General Anne Milgram investigated global device maker Synthes for failing to disclose stock payments to surgeons conducting pre-market trials on orthopedic hardware. She called that a conflict of interest and a "betrayal of the public trust [that] has the potential to jeopardize patient well-being."
The case centered on a spinal implant from Spine Solutions, a company partly financed by New York investment firm Viscogliosi Brothers. According to Milgram, Viscogliosi Brothers had offered the researchers "substantial investment opportunities in Spine Solutions, as well as consulting contracts that included gifts of company stock and stock options."
Milgram argued that Synthes failed to tell the Food and Drug Administration about the stock payments after it bought Spinal Solutions for $350 million in February 2003. The FDA approved the device in 2006 largely on the basis of research results. In May 2009, Synthes settled the New Jersey investigation by agreeing to disclose any payments to physician researchers.
Viscogliosi Brothers, which went on to help finance other spinal device startups, was not a defendant in the New Jersey case. But one of its companies, Paradigm Spine, later was accused by a former sales executive of paying kickbacks through "investor opportunities" offered to dozens of spine surgeons.
The surgeons were selected "because they are in a position to generate substantial business for Paradigm, and they have done so," according to the whistleblower's suit, which said four of Paradigm's top 10 users were investors. "This is a corruption of their medical judgment," according to the suit.
The whistleblower also accused Paradigm of prompting surgeons to try an implant for an unapproved use and bill for the operation improperly, allegations the company denied. In May 2016, Paradigm agreed to pay the government $585,000 to settle the errant billing claims, court records show. It denied any wrongdoing.
Paradigm Spine was sold to RTI Surgical, a Florida device company, in March 2019 for $300 million. A few surgeon investors wound up with $1 million or more in "ownership and investment interest," though the company reported that many of the surgeons saw their holdings shrink in value.
When Surgeons Profit Off Implant Sales
The Front Range Center for Brain & Spine Surgery in Fort Collins, Colorado, uses implants supplied by Highline Surgical Solutions LLC, whose owners include three of the center's surgeons, according to Open Payments filings.
The doctors say their stakes in the implant company and other medical businesses, including two local surgery centers and a diagnostic imaging center, assure them of a "strong influence on the quality, cost and effectiveness" of medical services.
Highline Surgical Solutions also generated a total of more than $3 million for five surgeons from 2016 through 2020, according to Open Payments data. The Front Range Center discloses the ownership ties and notes patients "will not be treated any differently" should they ask for products from other sources. The Front Range Center had no comment.
A few companies have joined the American Association of Surgeon Distributors, a nonprofit group advised by Steinmann that has set standards for "ethical and legal" physician-owned implant distributors. Most of the distributorships with ties to Steinmann have been members, according to the distributors' association website. As of 2018, Renovis was listed on the association's website as a "corporate member."
The association argues that the nation's five largest orthopedic device companies have established an "oligopoly" that its members fight to compete with, offering "meaningful" cost savings. Steinmann has presented state and federal regulators with research papers that he says document these savings and show how these companies can be run legally and ethically, by taking steps such as forbidding a distributorship from pressuring physician owners to use its products. "There is a right way and a wrong way," Steinmann said.
Yet the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Office of Inspector General has argued that physician ownership in device distributors tends to prompt costlier and more-complex surgeries, calling the practice "inherently suspect" in 2013. Last December, officials said these deals could violate anti-kickback laws and "induce physician owners to perform more procedures (or more extensive procedures)" and use its products "in lieu of other, potentially more clinically appropriate devices."
KHN identified more than three dozen implant supply companies that generated millions of dollars for surgeons from 2013 through 2019. Farallon Surgical LLC, for instance, earned three California surgeons more than $7 million from 2014 through 2020, Open Payments records show. The surgeons had no comment.
About three dozen surgeons have bought stock in the Orthopaedic Implant Co., of Reno, Nevada. Most put in $1,250, an investment the company valued at $31,250 for each of those investors in 2019.
Company president Itai Nemovicher said the doctors would make money only if the company were sold. He said the company offers "high-quality implants at a lower price" to benefit patients. "We are aboveboard in everything we do," he said in an interview.
Thomas Bulleit, a Washington lawyer who has represented device makers opposed to doctor-owned distributorships, said he sees no reason for physicians to have a stake in the implant supply trade. "The problem is doctors steering patients to products that make them money," he said.
For their part, federal officials told KHN in interviews that they could not comment on any company's business practices without first reviewing "all of the facts and circumstances on a case-by-case basis." But they said the inspector general's office has repeatedly warned physicians about ownership deals that among other things distribute "extraordinary returns on investment compared to the level of risk involved."
Just what is permissible could be clarified by a Justice Department civil case in California that has dragged on for nearly a decade. The suit alleges that Reliance Medical Systems LLC and its non-physician owners paid kickbacks to orthopedic surgeons who agreed to use its products. One surgeon paid nothing for a 20% ownership in one of Reliance's companies and was paid "an average of more than $500,000 per year between 2007 and 2012," according to the suit. The suit alleges that 25 of Reliance's 35 physician investors increased their rate of complex spinal fusions and, in some cases, elderly patients on Medicare suffered complications from operations that were "more extensive than necessary."
Reliance and its owners have repeatedly denied violating any laws. "Our clients will never settle. They believe they have done nothing wrong and they want their day in court," said Reliance attorney Patric Hooper.
The trial is set for early 2022.
Payments Less Than Transparent
While device companies must report physician ownership stakes, patients are largely on their own in deciphering what it all means.
The federal Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, or CMS, which runs the Open Payments website, offers little help. CMS "is unable to speak to how the public should interpret the data," according to an agency spokesperson. Though it has the authority to do so, CMS has not conducted an audit to verify the accuracy of the reports it receives. One action CMS took in 2018 suggests that, at least in past years, tens of millions of dollars in orthopedic surgery-related payments was not reported.
Responding to written questions, CMS said that in 2018 it contacted about 38,000 orthopedic or neurosurgeons to remind them of the reporting requirements. The action "identified 388 new ownership records associated with 235 physicians, totaling $162,301,018 in reported payments and financial transactions," according to the agency. "CMS considered this outreach a success," the spokesperson said.
Much remains less than transparent, however. Some companies report paying thousands of dollars to surgeon owners one year only to disappear from the database the next. And it is rarely clear what percentage of a device company's total stock is owned by surgeons who may influence hardware sales, an important legal and ethical distinction.
The Open Payments website refers to an ownership interest as a "payment" expressed in dollars but does not always say whether it was paid out in cash or exists only on paper — or how the surgeons obtained their holdings in the company. Some surgeons apparently invested cash, sometimes hundreds of thousands of dollars. Yet there is no explanation of how some surgeons put up $100 or less for stakes that later soared in value. That makes it all but impossible to know whether the compensation paid to a surgeon was reasonable as required by ethics standards and federal anti-kickback laws.
"There are legitimate arrangements and possibly illegitimate ones," said Richard Saver, a University of North Carolina School of Law professor who has studied the reporting system. "Separating the two is proving very difficult."
By Rachel Bluth SACRAMENTO, Calif. — A proposal sailing through the California legislature that aims to stop people from getting harassed outside of vaccination sites is raising alarms among some First Amendment experts.
If it becomes law, SB 742 would make it punishable by up to six months in jail and/or a maximum fine of $1,000 to intimidate, threaten, harass or prevent people from getting a COVID-19 — or any other — vaccine on their way to a vaccination site.
The measure was introduced after protesters briefly shut down a mass vaccination clinic at Los Angeles' Dodger Stadium in January. Now that mass vaccination clinics have mostly folded up, lawmakers worry that vaccination sites with less security than Dodger Stadium — like pharmacies and mobile clinics in parks or fast-food parking lots — are vulnerable.
It's a sign of how toxic the issue of vaccination has become in a state with a long history of intense and divisive vaccine wars.
State Sen. Richard Pan (D-Sacramento), a pediatrician who administers vaccines to his patients, wrote the bill. He has been the target of anti-vaccination harassment since writing and championing laws that made it harder for parents to refuse routine vaccines for their children by eliminating personal belief exemptions and tightening rules around medical ones.
He was shoved by someone who opposed the medical exemption bill in 2019, the same year in which an anti-vaccine protester threw menstrual blood onto the state Senate floor.
Pan was also among the lawmakers threatened at a committee hearing earlier this year.
Last month, Pan volunteered at a vaccination clinic at a Sacramento park that he said was disrupted by anti-vaccine protesters with a bullhorn who made it hard for medical personnel to converse with patients and answer their questions.
And while he said he can handle threats, ordinary citizens "shouldn't have to run a gauntlet to get vaccinated." That includes walking through a group likely made up of unvaccinated protesters and possibly getting exposed to COVID to get protected, he said.
His measure prohibits obstructing, injuring, harassing, intimidating or interfering with people "in connection with any vaccination services." The bill passed the state Senate with just four no votes and faces one more committee hurdle before it heads to the Assembly floor.
The bill defines harassment as getting within 30 feet of someone to hand them a leaflet, display a sign, participate in any kind of verbal protesting like singing or chanting, or conduct any education or counseling with that person.
Blocking someone or impeding them from getting a vaccine is an obvious problem, and it's good that the proposal would try to stop that, said Glen Smith, litigation director for the First Amendment Coalition, a California-based nonprofit that promotes the First Amendment, which guarantees rights such as free speech and assembly. But he thinks the proposal goes too far with its definition of harassment.
"To say you can't get within 30 feet of them just to hand them a pamphlet or ask them a question? That seems to be overkill for me," Smith said.
It's worse than overkill, said Eugene Volokh, a professor of First Amendment law at the UCLA School of Law.
"That law is clearly unconstitutional," Volokh said.
He has two primary concerns with the proposal:
First, though it's modeled on similar laws that create zones around abortion clinics to protect patients from harassment, this bill goes beyond what courts have upheld in the past, he said. In 2000, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld a Colorado law that created an 8-foot "bubble zone" around a person entering or exiting an abortion clinic, but in 2014 the high court struck down a Massachusetts law that created a 35-foot "buffer zone" around clinics.
A 30-foot zone around a person getting a vaccine is bigger than the court would allow, Volokh believes.
His second concern is that the bill specifically prohibits someone from leafletting or talking to someone only about vaccines.
That violates the First Amendment, Volokh said, because it targets certain content. Someone could hand out an anti-war or anti-fur leaflet and not run afoul of the law, he said.
"I think it's pretty shocking that a state legislature would try to enact this kind of restriction on fully protected speech this way," Volokh said.
In fact, anti-abortion groups that initially opposed the bill are now on board because it targets only speech in connection with vaccines.
Elisabeth Beall, media coordinator for the Right to Life League, said a previous version of the measure didn't specify that the restrictions would apply only to speech about vaccination.
"This limits the negative impact of the bill on pro-life activities," like anti-abortion sidewalk counseling outside Planned Parenthood clinics, which provide abortions and vaccines, Beall wrote in a statement.
Not all free speech advocates share Volokh's interpretation of the bill. The American Civil Liberties Union said it has no issues with it as written.
"It's not necessarily the case that the freedom to express our views is unrestricted," said Kevin Baker, director of governmental relations at ACLU California Action. "They can be balanced with important governmental objectives" like letting people get vaccinated in peace.
Part of that objective is stopping disinformation about vaccines, which Pan said is the primary reason people are not getting the shots.
"Frankly, any gains we make to try to get more people vaccinated are going to be incremental because of disinformation," Pan said. And when protesters show up claiming they're there to educate patients, "they're talking about disinformation."
Joshua Coleman, co-founder of the group V is for Vaccine, which advocates for informed consent before vaccinations and says vaccines carry risk, said he brought the bullhorn to Pan's clinic to "educate those coming to receive the vaccine on important facts they deserve to know" and object to Pan's bill.
"The intent in attending Senator Pan's vaccination clinic was to protest the censorship of important information and his egregious and erroneous attack on free speech," he said via email.
Pan said his bill was "carefully crafted" to stop the "obstruction, harassment and intimidation" of people seeking vaccines, and is confident that it is well within the bounds of the First Amendment.
"There's precedent for saying you can protest. This law doesn't say you can't protest. There's certain rules around the protest," Pan said. "Especially as we're trying to deal with this pandemic, we need to do what we can to be sure people feel safe getting themselves vaccinated."
MAYAGÜEZ, PUERTO RICO — Abigail Matos-Pagán entered a bright-blue house in Mayagüez earlier this summer and was met by Beatriz Gastón, who quietly led the way to her mother's small room. Matos-Pagán had come to provide a COVID-19 vaccine for Wildelma Gastón, 88, whose arthritis and other health concerns confine her to bed.
Wildelma Gastón asked for her rosary to be placed on her chest and motioned to her "good arm," where Matos-Pagán injected a first dose of the Moderna vaccine. The Gastón household, made up of five family members, breathed a collective sigh of relief. Though the vaccine had been available for months, Wildelma had been unable to reach a vaccination site. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's COVID Data Tracker, Puerto Rico's vaccination rate in March was one of the lowest among U.S. states and territories despite receiving more than 1.3 million vaccine doses. The rollout highlighted disparities in access to medical services, and the challenges of tracking and reaching remote citizens, such as Wildelma.
With each trip to school or work, family members worried about bringing the virus into their home and the threat to Wildelma's life. Matos-Pagán also vaccinated two of Beatriz's children, who are students at the University of Puerto Rico-Mayaqüez, during her visit.
"We have been waiting a long time for this moment," Beatriz Gastón said as she hugged Matos-Pagán goodbye, expressing gratitude for the home visit. To her, the vaccine is more than protection from the coronavirus — it clears the way for the family to be together with her mother.
To Matos-Pagán, it is her latest calling. The nurse practitioner, who has guided relief efforts after hurricanes and earthquakes in Puerto Rico and elsewhere, has made it her mission in the U.S. territory to vaccinate as many people as possible against COVID. Some residents of Mayagüez, a city on the western shore of the main island, candidly call her "The Vaccination Queen" and show up at her home asking for help in getting a shot.
According to The New York Times' case tracker, as of Friday, Puerto Rico has had more than 182,000 COVID cases and at least 2,594 deaths. About 57% of the population is fully vaccinated, but many of the unvaccinated are hard to reach because they live in remote mountainous communities or have chronic illnesses that leave them homebound. Matos-Pagán has vaccinated around 1,800 people in Puerto Rico so far, including 1,000 who have chronic illnesses or are bedridden.
In the pandemic's early days, Carmen Blas' health declined, and she began using a wheelchair. Blas, 78, was confined to her home, on the third story of an apartment building, which kept her safe from contracting COVID, but later she couldn't find transportation to a vaccination site. In June, her two children, Lisette and Raymond, visited from Wisconsin to help and immediately called the public health officials to get Blas inoculated.
"I usually come back every year and this was the longest I've ever been away. It was especially hard as my mother's health worsened, and I worried I might never see her again," said Raymond, who planned to extend his visit for as long as he was needed.
Matos-Pagán came to Blas' home in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico, to give her the vaccine. The family cheered the moment the vaccination was over.
"It's been really special to have intimate moments in someone's home during vaccinations. You can tell how much it means to their entire family," Matos-Pagán said afterward.
Mobilizing during a crisis is nothing new for Matos-Pagán. In the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, which cut off water and electricity to the entire island and claimed more than 3,000 lives, Matos-Pagán conducted initial community assessments in Puerto Rico's remotest and hardest-hit cities. Flooding and debris made many roads inaccessible, blocking these communities from basic needs such as food, water, prescription medications and transportation. Then, after a series of earthquakes in 2020 rocked the island, leaving even more people without housing or in substandard structures, Matos-Pagán organized local nurse practitioners to provide community healthcare. They supplied at-risk populations with their medicines when pharmacies closed, and teams set up mobile medical tents near overcrowded hospitals.
"I'm hyper and busy in my daily life, but when there is a crisis, I am calm and still. Grounded. I feel like I'm where I belong," she said.
Matos-Pagán was born in New York City. She became interested in medicine after watching nurses support her mother, who died of complications from an aneurysm when Matos-Pagán was 9. Her mother's death taught her "nothing was permanent," she said, which has inspired her to act when disaster strikes and support people through personal tragedy and loss.
Matos-Pagán returned to Puerto Rico to study nursing and later earned a master's degree and a doctorate at the University of Puerto Rico-Mayagüez. Through her work, she holds various titles: first commander of the Puerto Rican Disaster Response Team, and director and founder of the Coalition of Nurses for Communities in Disaster.
Her experiences managing medical professionals and resources during hurricanes have taken her to locations across the U.S. Atlantic coast and the Caribbean. During the COVID pandemic, she was recruited to assist in triage leadership for an ICU floor short on resources in El Paso, Texas, and a hard-hit senior living facility in Maryland.
"Not everyone is built for this. It's really sad, depressing work," Matos-Pagán said. "But even when there are mass casualties, you can still save lives and get people's basic needs met. I've seen communities come together in the most incredible ways. It's a challenge, but that's what keeps me going."
And, even as she is rapidly trying to get more COVID shots into the arms of Puerto Ricans, Matos-Pagán is preparing for the next crisis. Hurricane season officially began in June, and she will be on disaster-ready duty until the end of November.
Cristina Martinez's spinal operation in Houston was expected to be routine. But after destabilizing her spine, the surgeon discovered the implant he was ready to put in her back was larger than he wanted to use — and the device company's sales rep didn't have a smaller size on hand, according to a report he filed about the operation.
Dr. Ra'Kerry Rahman went ahead with the operation, and Martinez awoke feeling pain and some numbness, she alleges. When Rahman removed the plastic device four days later and replaced it with a smaller one, Martinez suffered nerve damage and loss of feeling in her left leg, she claims.
Martinez is suing the surgeon, implant maker Life Spine Inc., and its distributor and sales representatives, alleging their negligence led to her injuries because the right part wasn't available during her first surgery. All deny wrongdoing. The case is set for trial in November.
The lawsuit takes aim at the bustling sales networks that orthopedic device manufacturers have built to market ever-growing lines of costly surgical hardware — from spinal implants to replacement knees and artificial hips commonly used in operations. Sales in 2019 topped $20 billion, though COVID-19 forced many hospitals to suspend elective surgeries for much of last year.
Device makers train sales reps to offer surgeons technical guidance in the operating room on the use of their products. They pay prominent surgeons to tout their implants at medical conferences — and athletes to offer celebrity endorsements. The industry says these practices help ensure that patients receive the highest-quality care.
But a KHN investigation found these practices also have been blamed for contributing to serious patient harm in thousands of medical malpractice, product liability and whistleblower lawsuits filed over the past decade.
Some patients allege they were injured after sales reps sold or delivered wrong-size or defective implants, while others accuse device makers of misleading doctors about the safety and durability of their products. Six multi-district federal cases have consolidated more than 28,000 suits by patients seeking compensation for injuries involving hip implants, including painful redo operations.
In other court actions, patients and whistleblowers repeatedly have accused device companies of failing to report injury-causing defects to federal regulators as required — or of doling out millions of dollars in illegal kickbacks to surgeons who agreed to use their products. Device makers have denied the allegations and many such cases are settled under confidential terms.
At least 250 companies sell surgical hardware, and many more distribute it to doctors and hospitals across the country. Spine companies alone obtained more than 1,200 patents for devices in 2018, according to an industry report. Many come to market through a streamlined Food and Drug Administration process that approves their use because they are essentially the same as what is already being sold.
"In orthopedics, we are inundated with a multitude of new implants that debut each year," Dr. James Kang, chairman of the orthopedic surgery department at Brigham and Women's Hospital, remarked at a Harvard Medical School roundtable discussion published in 2019.
Kang said surgeons often rely on industry "reps" in the operating room for guidance because it is "usually burdensome and difficult" for surgeons to know "all of the intricate details and nuances" of so many products.
Martinez's lawsuit says the process went awry during her May 2018 spinal fusion in Houston, an operation in which an implant is inserted into the spinal column to replace a worn or damaged disc.
Martinez was under anesthesia, with her spine destabilized, when Rahman discovered the Life Spine surgical kit did not contain any implants shorter than 50 millimeters, or about 2 inches. That was too large, according to the complaint. Martinez, a former day care worker, blames her injuries on the redo operation, which replaced the implant with a 40 mm version Life Spine supplied later.
Through his lawyer, Rahman declined to comment. In court filings, the surgeon has denied responsibility. His operating notes, according to court pleadings, say he had ordered "all lengths available" of the implant through a Life Spine distributor and its sales reps. In a June court filing, Rahman contends the "small area of leg numbness experienced by Ms. Martinez was a known complication of the first surgery … and was not the result of any alleged negligence."
In the court filing, Rahman also argues it was "appropriate" for him to rely on the sales reps and hospital staff to "inform him as to whether all materials and equipment needed for surgery were available."
Illinois-based Life Spine also denies blame. In court filings, it says the sales reps initially ordered a sterile kit that included only implants from 50 mm to 55 mm long, which it duly shipped to Houston.
At the time of Martinez's operation, Life Spine was the target of a sealed whistleblower lawsuit accusing it of paying improper consulting fees and other kickbacks to more than 60 surgeons who agreed to use its wares. Court records in the whistleblower case identify Rahman as one of the company's paid consultants, although he and the other surgeons were not named as defendants. Life Spine and two of its executives settled the matter in November 2019 by paying a total of nearly $6 million.
An orthopedic surgery expert hired by Martinez for her suit faulted Rahman for not making sure he had the right gear "prior to the start of surgery," according to his report. The expert also criticized the sales rep for failing to bring "all available lengths to the procedure or to inform Dr. Rahman that the necessary implants were not available," court records show. The sales rep and distributor denied any blame, arguing in court filings that they "met all applicable standards of care."
Frenzied Competition for Sales
Major device makers train a corps of sales agents, some recruited right out of college, to cultivate and work closely with surgeons — one likened the relationship to a caddy and an avid golfer. Duties can include lugging 20-pound sets of surgical hardware to the operating room, assuring it is sterile and knowing its specifications, though the reps are not required to have medical training or credentials.
Stryker, one of the nation's top four spine implant manufacturers, spends what it calls "a significant amount of time and money" to train reps. When hired, they typically "shadow" other reps for three to six months, then attend a 10-day intensive "Spine School" and other training. In all, the company said in a court filing, it typically takes eight to 18 months, often longer, to develop "long-term relationships" with customers.
For those who do, the jobs can pay handsomely. Veteran reps who influence which brands of hardware surgeons select command salaries and bonuses that can stretch into the low six figures and beyond, court records show.
The market is so hotly competitive that device makers typically require reps to sign contracts that prohibit them from working for a rival company in the same territory for a year or more — and aren't shy about suing to fend off raids on their staffs, court records show.
In 2019, DePuy Synthes sued an Alabama sales rep who jumped ship, blaming him for stealing away accounts "worth millions of dollars practically overnight." An arm of healthcare giant Johnson & Johnson, DePuy Synthes filed at least two dozen similar suits from 2014 through the end of 2020, court records show. Most, including the case of the Alabama sales rep, have been settled under confidential terms.
Some companies have spent lavishly to poach experienced sales agents — practices that can violate business conduct laws. One allegedly paid a New York sales pro a "staggering, seven-figure signing bonus." Another is said to have dangled an $800,000-a-year job as "director of surgeon education," while a gambit to make inroads in the Phoenix market dubbed "Sun Devil" guaranteed a branch manager a $500,000 annual salary, court records show. Another promised a sales agent $900,000 paid out over three years.
Whistleblowers and government investigators have argued for years that so much money changing hands can lead to kickbacks or other marketing schemes that corrupt medical judgment and endanger patients. Some injury suits also have blamed sales reps and distributors for staying mum about product deficiencies they observed in the operating room. These cases often are settled with no admission of wrongdoing.
Sometimes, surgeons help promote implants at medical meetings and other gatherings. Orthopedic surgeons and neurosurgeons received a total of about $511 million in industry consulting fees from 2013 through 2019 and nearly $300 million more for "serving as faculty or speaker" at industry-sponsored events, a KHN analysis of government data found. AdvaMed, the device industry's trade group, says doctors often take "primary responsibility" for training other doctors to use new devices. "Unlike a pill or injection, procedures to implant or equip medical devices for patients can be extremely technical and complex," said Scott Whitaker, the group's president and CEO.
Some prominent surgeons who touted products that later were recalled, or who helped train surgeons to use implants, have been criticized in pending injury lawsuits.
One is Dr. Brad Penenberg, an orthopedic surgeon in Beverly Hills, California, paid by Wright Medical Technology as a "key opinion leader," according to court filings. Multiple lawsuits cite a webinar for orthopedic surgeons that featured Penenberg and said hip surgery patients could resume "activities and lifestyles that include such things as tennis, horseback riding and snow skiing."
Injured patients are arguing in court filings that Penenberg and several other experts paid by the company knew of significant failures of the hip device. Penenberg did not respond to numerous requests for comment but in court papers denied the allegations.
Hundreds of patients are claiming injuries they blame at least partly on overly aggressive marketing by Wright Medical. In one 2020 lawsuit, a Montana man who had received a hip implant said he was taking a walk while in Arizona on vacation when he "felt a severe jolt in his groin and fell." He was out of cell range and could not get up or call for help. A "good Samaritan" called for an ambulance, which took him to a hospital in Gilbert, Arizona, where X-rays showed a fracture of the implant. It was removed and replaced. Wright Medical has denied the allegations.
Retired California psychologist Herb Glazeroff is suing Penenberg and Wright Medical Technology over a hip replacement that allegedly failed about five years after the surgeon installed it. In May 2019, Glazeroff was walking when he "suddenly dropped to his knees as his left leg gave out on him," according to the suit. He alleges that the hip had fractured, which required a painful second operation and "a long and arduous rehabilitation program" from which he has "yet to fully recover." Glazeroff argues that Penenberg failed to warn him about the implant's dangers even though the surgeon had been named in "multiple lawsuits" alleging device defects. Penenberg has denied the allegations.
Dozens of lawsuits have taken aim at Indiana device maker Biomet's advertising a hip replacement for "younger, more active patients" that showcased Olympic gold medal gymnast Mary Lou Retton. One ad says "Mary Lou lives pain-free, and so should you." Yet Retton suffered painful heavy-metal poisoning requiring the implant's removal and sued the company for damages, according to court records.
In a January 2020 court filing in Houston, Retton tried to block a subpoena seeking her deposition in a product liability lawsuit filed against Biomet by two patients in King County, Washington. The Washington case has since been settled and the deposition did not occur. But in a court filing opposing the subpoena, Retton confirmed she had a Biomet implant put in her left hip in 2005 and one on her right side about six years later. She said she promoted Biomet products from April 2006 through April 2013 and sued the company in January 2018, alleging the implants were defective. Retton said she and Biomet settled the suit in early 2019 "under confidential terms the parties find favorable to their respective positions. [Ms. Retton] values her long relationship with Biomet and her continued use of her [Biomet hip implants] and [Biomet] appreciates the support it has received over the years from [Ms. Retton]."
Defects Ignored, Downplayed
Whether touted by renowned surgeons or celebrities, orthopedic surgery marketing materials stress quick improvement in a person's quality of life. That proves true for most patients. Yet researching how often implants fail or cause life-changing injuries — and which brands have the best safety records — can be daunting.
The FDA requires device makers to advise the agency of information "that reasonably suggests" a device they sell "may have caused or contributed to a death or serious injury or has malfunctioned" in a way that could recur. The FDA posts the reports on a public website, with the caveat that they may convey "incomplete, inaccurate, untimely, unverified, or biased data."
KHN found that thousands of malpractice and product liability lawsuits have accused device marketers of concealing or downplaying hardware defects, leaving patients and their doctors in the dark about possible risks. In many cases, these claims are bolstered by company records, or actions by state or federal regulators. In 2019, for instance, DePuy Synthes paid $120 million to settle a lawsuit filed by 46 state attorneys general; the suit accused the company of advertising that a replacement hip it sold lasted three years in 99.2% of operations, when it knew of data showing that 7% had failed within that time. The company did not admit wrongdoing in settling the case.
British device company Smith & Nephew faces a federal civil proceeding comprising nearly 1,000 injury suits, including one that says the company "underreported and withheld" notices of malfunctions and "willfully ignored the existence of numerous complaints about [its] failures." An expert hired by the patients cites a company audit showing "significant adverse events" were logged from two days to 142 days late, while a corporate memo circulated among executives to push sales was titled "Milk the Cash Cow," according to court records. Smith & Nephew has denied the allegations and in one court paper called the expert's opinions "speculative."
A cluster of Florida injury cases pertaining to a knee implant from German manufacturer Aesculap alleges that the FDA cited the company for failing to report 25 adverse incidents — in some cases for a year or more — as a result of an inspection at its Hazelwood, Missouri, plant in September 2015. Aesculap has denied the allegations and the suits are pending in Florida's Indian River County Circuit Court.
John Saltis is suing spinal device company NuVasive over its handling of his complaint that a screw holding his spinal implant in place snapped in May 2016, about 17 months after his operation.
Saltis, 68, was two hours into his workday as a toolmaker at General Electric in Rutland, Vermont, when he felt sharp pain in his neck and shoulder, bad enough to send him to the hospital emergency room. A few days later, X-rays revealed the screw had broken and, according to Saltis, fractured vertebrae in the process.
Saltis said the San Diego-based device company told the FDA the incident caused no harm. But Saltis said he has lingering numbness and pain in his right hand. As a result, he said, his lifestyle has "changed dramatically." He sold his motorcycle and stopped biking and now relies on his left hand for simple tasks like opening doors and shaking hands — even plucking chips out of a bag.
"I miss things like bowling and playing toss with my grandkids," he said.
In 2019, Saltis sued NuVasive without a lawyer, hoping to show the $600 screw was defective. In a court filing, NuVasive said Saltis is arguing "the screw is defective because it broke." That's not good enough, according to NuVasive, which argues that Saltis must show the screw was "unreasonably dangerous" to press his claim. In late June, a federal judge agreed and dismissed the suit, though she allowed Saltis to amend his complaint, which he is pursuing. The case is pending.
"I was pain-free for a few months and would have stayed that way if the screw hadn't broken," Saltis said. "This can change somebody's life completely."
A Push for Change as Pandemic Eases
As hospitals resume elective operations stalled by the coronavirus, some industry critics see an opportunity to rethink orthopedic surgery practices — from sales to tracking of injuries.
Some want to keep industry reps out of operating rooms and place tighter restrictions on their access to hospitals. They say the current system needlessly drives up healthcare costs and exposes patients to risks such as infection from extra people in the operating room. Reps counter that their incomes have been dropping due to global purchasing arrangements that give hospitals greater say over prices for surgical equipment.
Sales reps say their technical knowledge and skills make operations safer for patients and note that many surgeons enjoy the security of having them present in the operating room. Reps also say they perform tasks that hospitals would need to hire additional personnel to do, such as keeping track of device inventories.
"The industry has embedded reps into the supply chain, and it is a hard culture to break," said Itai Nemovicher, president of the Orthopaedic Implant Co., which seeks to produce lower-cost implants.
Yet guidelines for "reentry" after COVID put out by AdvaMed and the American Hospital Association say medical device reps should deliver "services, information and support remotely whenever possible." The guidelines advise hospitals to use videoconferencing gear when it "does not compromise patient safety or privacy."
Dr. Adriane Fugh-Berman, a professor of pharmacology and physiology at Georgetown University, said device reps are viewed as part of the operating room team even though they are there "to sell products. That is pretty horrifying from a patient's point of view." She said hospitals should train staff to perform these functions. "Relying on sales reps in the OR is appalling. We need to come up with a better system."
Greater transparency might have helped Little Rock, Arkansas, resident Christopher Paul Bills. He sued Consensus Orthopedics, the maker of a hip implant system that he alleged failed and sent metal through his hip joint that his surgeon said in 2016 looked "as if a bomb had gone off." An Australian registry that tracks outcomes of operations had in September 2014 identified the implant as having a "higher number" of hip failures compared with other manufacturers, according to the suit.
Bills underwent four operations and spent more than a year in the hospital and in rehabilitation, costs borne by Medicare and private insurance.
"Mr. Bills was left with no right hip at all and his surgeon does not plan to install a replacement hip," the suit says. Bills uses an electric scooter to get around and hopes to graduate to hand-held crutches. "Since his right leg is useless, he will require a vehicle with hand-controls to drive," according to the suit. The company disputed Bills' claims and denied its hip system had any defects.
The case ended in 2019 when Bills died of cancer unrelated to his operations, said his lawyer, Joseph Saunders.