Black or ‘Other’? Doctors may be relying on race to make decisions about your health | CNN

Editor’s Note: CNN’s “History Refocused” series features surprising and personal stories from America’s past to bring depth to conflicts still raging today.



CNN
 — 

When she first learned about race correction, Naomi Nkinsi was one of five Black medical students in her class at the University of Washington.

Nkinsi remembers the professor talking about an equation doctors use to measure kidney function. The professor said eGFR equations adjust for several variables, including the patient’s age, sex and race. When it comes to race, doctors have only two options: Black or “Other.”

Nkinsi was dumbfounded.

“It was really shocking to me,” says Nkinsi, now a third-year medical and masters of public health student, “to come into school and see that not only is there interpersonal racism between patients and physicians … there’s actually racism built into the very algorithms that we use.”

At the heart of a controversy brewing in America’s hospitals is a simple belief, medical students say: Math shouldn’t be racist.

The argument over race correction has raised questions about the scientific data doctors rely on to treat people of color. It’s attracted the attention of Congress and led to a big lawsuit against the NFL.

What happens next could affect how millions of Americans are treated.

Carolyn Roberts, a historian of medicine and science at Yale University, says slavery and the American medical system were in a codependent relationship for much of the 19th century and well into the 20th.

“They relied on one another to thrive,” Roberts says.

It was common to test experimental treatments first on Black people so they could be given to White people once proven safe. But when the goal was justifying slavery, doctors published articles alleging substantive physical differences between White and Black bodies — like Dr. Samuel Cartwright’s claim in 1851 that Black people have weaker lungs, which is why grueling work in the fields was essential (his words) to their progress.

The effects of Cartwright’s falsehood, and others like it, linger today.

In 2016, researchers asked White medical students and residents about 15 alleged differences between Black and White bodies. Forty percent of first-year medical students and 25% of residents said they believed Black people have thicker skin, and 7% of all students and residents surveyed said Black people have less sensitive nerve endings. The doctors-in-training who believed these myths — and they are myths — were less likely to prescribe adequate pain medication to Black patients.

To fight this kind of bias, hospitals urge doctors to rely on objective measures of health. Scientific equations tell physicians everything from how well your kidneys are working to whether or not you should have a natural birth after a C-section. They predict your risk of dying during heart surgery, evaluate brain damage and measure your lung capacity.

But what if these equations are also racially biased?

Race correction is the use of a patient’s race in a scientific equation that can influence how they are treated. In other words, some diagnostic algorithms and risk predictor tools adjust or “correct” their results based on a person’s race.

The New England Journal of Medicine article “Hidden in Plain Sight” includes a partial list of 13 medical equations that use race correction. Take the Vaginal Birth After Cesarean calculator, for example. Doctors use this calculator to predict the likelihood of a successful vaginal delivery after a prior C-section. If you are Black or Hispanic, your score is adjusted to show a lower chance of success. That means your doctor is more likely to encourage another C-section, which could put you at risk for blood loss, infection and a longer recovery period.

Cartwright, the racist doctor from the 1800s, also developed his own version of a tool called the spirometer to measure lung capacity. Doctors still use spirometers today, and most include a race correction for Black patients to account for their supposedly shallower breaths.

Turns out, second-year medical student Carina Seah wryly told CNN, math is as racist as the people who make it.

The biggest problem with using race in medicine? Race isn’t a biological category. It’s a social one.

“It’s based on this idea that human beings are naturally divided into these big groups called races,” says Dorothy Roberts, a professor of law and sociology at the University of Pennsylvania, who has made challenging race correction in medicine her life’s work. “But that’s not what race is. Race is a completely invented social category. The very idea that human beings are divided into races is a made-up idea.”

Ancestry is biological. Where we come from — or more accurately, who we come from — impacts our DNA. But a patient’s skin color isn’t always an accurate reflection of their ancestry.

Look at Tiger Woods, Roberts says. Woods coined the term “Cablinasian” to describe his mix of Caucasian, Black, American Indian and Asian ancestries. But to many Americans, he’s Black.

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“You can be half Black and half White in this country and you are Black,” says Seah, who is getting her medical degree and a PhD in genetics and genomics at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York. “You can be a quarter Black in this country — if you have dark skin, you are Black.”

So it can be misleading, Seah says, even dangerous, for doctors to judge a patient’s ancestry by glancing at their skin. A patient with a White mother and Black father could have a genetic mutation that typically presents in patients of European ancestry, Seah says, but a doctor may not think to test for it if they only see Black skin.

“You have to ask, how Black is Black enough?” Nkinsi asks. And there’s another problem, she says, with using a social construct like race in medicine. “It also puts the blame on the patient, and it puts the blame on the race itself. Like being Black is inherently the cause of these diseases.”

Naomi Nkinsi is a third-year medical and masters of public health student at the University of Washington in Seattle. She has been advocating for the removal of race correction in medicine.

After she learned about the eGFR equation in 2018, Nkinsi began asking questions about race correction. She wasn’t alone — on social media she found other students struggling with the use of race in medicine. In the spring of 2020, following a first-year physiology lecture, Seah joined the conversation. But the medical profession is nothing if not hierarchical; Nkinsi and Seah say students are encouraged to defer to doctors who have been practicing for decades.

Then on May 25, 2020, George Floyd was killed by police in Minneapolis.

His death and the growing momentum around Black Lives Matter helped ignite what Dr. Darshali A. Vyas calls an “overdue reckoning” in the medical community around race and race correction. A few institutions had already taken steps to remove race from the eGFR equation. Students across the country demanded more, and hospitals began to listen.

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Four days after Floyd’s death, the University of Washington announced it was removing race correction from the eGFR equation. In June, the Boston-based hospital system Mass General Brigham where Vyas is a second-year Internal Medicine resident followed suit. Seah and a fellow student at Mount Sinai, Paloma Orozco Scott, started an online petition and collected over 1600 signatures asking their hospital to do the same.

Studies show removing race from the eGFR equation will change how patients at those hospitals are treated. Researchers from Brigham and Women’s Hospital and Penn Medicine estimated up to one in every three Black patients with kidney disease would have been reclassified if the race multiplier wasn’t applied in earlier calculations, with a quarter going from stage 3 to stage 4 CKD (Chronic Kidney Disease).

That reclassification is good and bad, says Dr. Neil Powe, chief of medicine at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital. Black patients newly diagnosed with kidney disease will be able to see specialists who can devise better treatment plans. And more patients will be placed on kidney transplant lists.

On the flip side, Powe says, more African Americans diagnosed with kidney disease means fewer who are eligible to donate kidneys, when there’s already a shortage. And a kidney disease diagnosis can change everything from a patient’s diabetes medication to their life insurance costs.

Dr. Neil Powe says by simply removing race from the eGFR equations,

Powe worries simply eliminating race from these equations is a knee-jerk response — one that may exacerbate health disparities instead of solve them. For too long, Powe says, doctors had to fight for diversity in medical studies.

The most recent eGFR equation, known as the CKD-EPI equation, was developed using data pooled from 26 studies, which included almost 3,000 patients who self-identified as Black. Researchers found the equation they were developing was more accurate for Black patients when it was adjusted by a factor of about 1.2. They didn’t determine exactly what was causing the difference in Black patients, but their conclusion is supported by other research that links Black race and African ancestry with higher levels of creatinine, a waste product filtered by the kidneys.

Put simply: In the eGFR equation, researchers used race as a substitute for an unknown factor because they think that factor is more common in people of African descent.

Last August, Vyas co-authored the “Hidden in Plain Sight” article about race correction. Vyas says most of the equations she wrote about were developed in a similar way to the eGFR formula: Researchers found Black people were more or less likely to have certain outcomes and decided race was worth including in the final equation, often without knowing the real cause of the link.

“When you go back to the original studies that validated (these equations), a lot of them did not provide any sort of rationale for why they include race, which I think is appalling.” That’s what’s most concerning, Vyas says – “how willing we are to believe that race is relevant in these ways.”

Vyas is clear she isn’t calling for race-blind medicine. Physicians cannot ignore structural racism, she says, and the impact it has on patients’ health.

Powe has been studying the racial disparities in kidney disease for more than 30 years. He can spout the statistics easily: Black people are three times more likely to suffer from kidney failure, and make up more than 35% of patients on dialysis in the US. The eGFR equation, he says, did not cause these disparities — they existed long before the formula.

“We want to cure disparities, let’s go after the things that really matter, some of which may be racist,” he says. “But to put all our stock and think that the equation is causing this is just wrong because it didn’t create those.”

In discussions about removing race correction, Powe likes to pose a question: Instead of normalizing to the “Other” group in the eGFR equation, as many of these hospitals are doing, why don’t we give everyone the value assigned to Black people? By ignoring the differences researchers saw, he says, “You’re taking the data on African Americans, and you’re throwing it in the trash.”

Powe is co-chair of a joint task force set up by the National Kidney Foundation and the American Society of Nephrology to look at the use of race in eGFR equations. The leaders of both organizations have publicly stated race should not be included in equations used to estimate kidney function. On April 9, the task force released an interim report that outlined the challenges in identifying and implementing a new equation that’s representative of all groups. The group is expected to issue its final recommendations for hospitals this summer.

Race correction is used to assess the kidneys and the lungs. What about the brain?

In 2013, the NFL settled a class-action lawsuit brought by thousands of former players and their families that accused the league of concealing what it knew about the dangers of concussions. The NFL agreed to pay $765 million, without admitting fault, to fund medical exams and compensate players for concussion-related health issues, among other things. Then in 2020, two retired players sued the NFL for allegedly discriminating against Black players who submitted claims in that settlement.

01 race correction Kevin Henry Najeh Davenport SPLIT

The players, Najeh Davenport and Kevin Henry, said the NFL race-corrected their neurological exams, which prevented them from being compensated.

According to court documents, former NFL players being evaluated for neurocognitive impairment were assumed to have started with worse cognitive function if they were Black. So if a Black player and a White player received the exact same scores on a battery of thinking and memory tests, the Black player would appear to have suffered less impairment. And therefore, the lawsuit stated, would be less likely to qualify for a payout.

Race correction is common in neuropsychology using something called Heaton norms, says Katherine Possin, an associate professor at the University of California San Francisco. Heaton norms are essentially benchmark average scores on cognitive tests.

Here’s how it works: To measure the impact of a concussion (or multiple concussions over time), doctors compare how well the patient’s brain works now to how well it worked before.

“The best way to get that baseline was to test you 10 years ago, but that’s not something we obviously have for many people,” Possin says. So doctors estimate your “before” abilities using an average score from a group of healthy individuals, and adjust that score for demographic factors known to affect brain function, like your age.

Heaton norms adjust for race, Possin says, because race has been linked in studies to lower cognitive scores. To be clear, that’s not because of any biological differences in Black and White brains, she says; it’s because of social factors like education and poverty that can impact cognitive development. And this is where the big problem lies.

In early March, a judge in Pennsylvania dismissed the players’ lawsuit and ordered a mediator to address concerns about how race correction was being used. In a statement to CNN, the NFL said there is no merit to the players’ claim of discrimination, but it is committed to helping find alternative testing techniques that do not employ race-based norms.

The NFL case, Possin wrote in JAMA, has “exposed a major weakness in the field of neuropsychology: the use of race-adjusted norms as a crude proxy for lifelong social experience.”

This happens in nearly every field of medicine. Race is not only used as a poor substitute for genetics and ancestry, it’s used as a substitute for access to health care, or lifestyle factors like diet and exercise, socioeconomic status and education. It’s no secret that racial disparities exist in all of these. But there’s a danger in using race to talk about them, Yale historian Carolyn Roberts says.

We know, for example, that Black Americans have been disproportionally affected by Covid-19. But it’s not because Black bodies respond differently to the virus. It’s because, as Dr. Anthony Fauci has noted, a disproportionate number of Black people have jobs that put them at higher risk and have less access to quality health care. “What are we making scientific and biological when it actually isn’t?” Roberts asks.

Vyas says using race as a proxy for these disparities in clinical algorithms can also create a vicious cycle.

“There’s a risk there, we argue, of simply building these into the system and almost accepting them as fact instead of focusing on really addressing the root causes,” Vyas says. “If we systematize these existing disparities … we risk ensuring that these trends will simply continue.”

Nearly everyone on both sides of the race correction controversy agrees that race isn’t an accurate, biological measure. Yet doctors and researchers continue to use it as a substitute. Math shouldn’t be racist, Nkinsi says, and it shouldn’t be lazy.

“We’re saying that we know that this race-based medicine is wrong, but we’re going to keep doing it because we simply don’t have the will or the imagination or the creativity to think of something better,” Nkinsi says. “That is a slap in the face.”

Shortly after Vyas’ article published in The New England Journal of Medicine, the House Ways and Means Committee sent letters to several professional medical societies requesting information on the misuse of race in clinical algorithms. In response to the lawmakers’ request, the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality is also gathering information on the use of race-based algorithms in medicine. Recently, a note appeared on the Maternal Fetal Medicine Units Network’s website for the Vaginal Birth After Cesarean equation — a new calculator that doesn’t include race and ethnicity is being developed.

Dorothy Roberts is excited to see change on the horizon. But she’s also a bit frustrated. The harm caused by race correction is something she’s been trying to tell doctors about for years.

“I’ve taught so many audiences about the meaning of race and the history of racism in America and the audiences I get the most resistance from are doctors,” Roberts says. “They’re offended that there would be any suggestion that what they do is racist.”

Nkinsi and Seah both encountered opposition from colleagues in their fight to change the eGFR equation. Several doctors interviewed for this story argued the change in a race-corrected scores is so small, it wouldn’t change clinical decisions.

If that’s the case, Vyas wonders, why include race at all?

“It all comes from the desire for one to dominate another group and justify it,” says Roberts. “In the past, it was slavery, but the same kinds of justifications work today to explain away all the continued racial inequality that we see in America… It is mass incarceration. It’s huge gaps in health. It’s huge differences in income and wealth.”

It’s easier, she says, to believe these are innate biological differences than to address the structural racism that caused them.



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Conjoined Twins Fast Facts | CNN



CNN
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Here’s a look at conjoined twins.

Conjoined twins are physically connected to one another at some point on their bodies.

Conjoined twins occur once every 200,000 live births, according to the University of Minnesota.

About 70% of conjoined twins are female.

Conjoined twins are identical – they are the same sex.

According to the Mayo Clinic, conjoined twins may be joined at any of these areas: chest, abdomen, spine, pelvis, trunk or head.

Scientists believe that conjoined twins develop from a single fertilized egg that fails to separate completely as it divides.

The term “Siamese twins” originated with Eng and Chang Bunker, a set of conjoined twins who were born in Siam (now Thailand) in 1811. They lived to age 63 and appeared in traveling exhibitions. Chang and Eng both married and fathered a total of 21 children between them.

In 1955, neurosurgeon Dr. Harold Voris of Mercy Hospital in Chicago performed the first successful procedure separating conjoined twins.

Lea and Tabea Block
Born August 9, 2003, in Lemgo, Germany, to Peter and Nelly Block. They are joined at the head. On September 16, 2004, the girls are separated. Tabea dies shortly thereafter.

Jade and Erin Buckles
Born February 26, 2004, to Melissa and Kevin Buckles at National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland. They share a liver. On June 19, 2004, they are successfully separated.

Tatiana and Anastasia Dogaru
Born January 13, 2004, in Rome to Romanian parents Claudia and Alin Dogaru. They are connected at the head. In August 2007, doctors at University Hospital’s Rainbow Babies & Children’s Hospital in Cleveland announce that they will not perform a separation of the girls because the surgery is too risky.

Abbigail and Isabelle Carlsen
Born November 29, 2005, in Fargo, North Dakota, to Amy and Jesse Carlsen. They are joined at the abdomen and chest. On May 12, 2006, a team of 30 people, including 18 surgeons from various specialties at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, perform a successful operation to separate the girls.

Regina and Renata Salinas Fierros
Born August 2, 2005, in Los Angeles to Sonia Fierros and Federico Salinas. Born facing each other and joined from the lower chest to the pelvis, they are fused in several places including the liver and genitals, and they share a large intestine. Regina is born with one kidney. On June 14, 2006, the twins are separated during a day-long surgery at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles.

Abygail and Madysen Fitterer
Born August 8, 2006, to Stacy and Suzy Fitterer from Bismarck, North Dakota. They are born joined at the abdomen and share a liver. On January 3, 2007, they are separated in a surgery at the Mayo Clinic.

Preslee Faith and Kylee Hope Wells
Born October 25, 2008, in Oklahoma City to Stevie Stewart and Kylie Wells. They are attached at the chest and are believed to be the first Native American conjoined twins. On January 19, 2009, they are separated at Children’s Hospital at OU Medical Center in Oklahoma City. On February 19, 2011, Preslee Faith dies.

Arthur and Heitor Rocha Brandao
Born April 2009 in Bahia, Brazil, to Eliane and Delson Rocha. They are joined at the hip and share a bladder, intestines, liver and genitals. The twins only have three legs between them. On February 24, 2015, the five-year-old twins undergo a 15-hour separation surgery after months of preparation. Arthur dies three days later after he suffers cardiac arrest.

Angelica and Angelina Sabuco
Born August 2009 in the Philippines to Fidel and Ginady Sabuco. They are joined at the chest and abdomen. On November 1, 2011, they are successfully separated after a 10-hour surgery at Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital in San Jose, California.

Hassan and Hussein Benhaffaf
Born December 2, 2009, in London to Angie and Azzedine Benhaffaf from East Cork, Ireland. They are attached at the chest but share no major organs. On April 8, 2010, they undergo a 14-hour separation surgery at Great Ormond Street Hospital. Both survive.

Maria and Teresa Tapia
Born April 8, 2010, in the Dominican Republic to Lisandra Sanatis and Marino Tapia. They are joined at the lower chest and abdomen and share a liver, pancreatic glands, and part of their small intestine. On November 8, 2011, they are successfully separated following a 20-hour procedure.

Joshua and Jacob Spates
Born January 24, 2011, in Memphis, Tennessee, to Adrienne Spates. They are joined back to back at the pelvis and lower spine, each with separate hearts, heads and limbs. On August 29, 2011, they are successfully separated after a 13-hour surgery. In October 2013, Jacob passes away.

Rital and Ritag Gaboura
Born September 22, 2010, in Khartoum, Sudan, to Abdelmajeed and Enas Gaboura. They are joined at the head. On August 15, 2011, they are successfully separated after a four-stage operation. Two operations took place in May, one in July and the final operation in August.

Allison June and Amelia Lee Tucker
Born March 1, 2012, to Shellie and Greg Tucker. They are attached at the lower chest and abdomen and share their chest wall, diaphragm, pericardium and liver. On November 7, 2012, they are successfully separated after a seven-hour surgery at Children’s Hospital Philadelphia.

A’zhari and A’zhiah Lawrence
Born October 10, 2012, in Virginia to Nachell Jones and Carlos Lawrence. They are joined from the chest to the abdomen and have a conjoined liver. On April 22, 2013, they are successfully separated following 14 hours of surgery. On October 14, 2013, A’zhari passes away.

Emmett and Owen Ezell
Born July 15, 2013, in Dallas to Jenni and Dave Ezell. They are joined at the liver and the intestine. On August 24, 2013, they are successfully separated.

Knatalye Hope and Adeline Faith Mata
Born April 11, 2014, in Houston to Elysse and John Matta. They are joined at the chest, sharing a liver, heart lining, diaphragm, intestines and colon. On February 17, 2015, a team of 12 surgeons separate the twins during a 26-hour procedure.

Erika and Eva Sandoval
Born August 10, 2014, in California to Aida and Arturo Sandoval. They are joined at the lower chest and upper abdomen and share a liver, bladder, two kidneys and three legs. On December 6-7, 2016, they are successfully separated after 17 hours of surgery at Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital Stanford in California.

Acen and Apio Akello
Born September 23, 2014, in Uganda to Ester Akello. They are joined at the hip and pelvis. On September 3, 2015, more than 30 medical specialists help separate the twins’ spinal cord during a 16-hour surgery at Nationwide Children’s Hospital in Ohio. To prepare for the surgery, medical specialists used 3-D printing to create anatomies similar to the girls.

Carter and Conner Mirabal
Born December 12, 2014, in Jacksonville, Florida, to Michelle Brantley and Bryan Mirabal. They are joined at the sternum and abdomen and share a liver and part of their small intestines. On May 7, 2015, the twins are successfully separated after 12 hours of surgery at Wolfson Children’s Hospital in Florida.

Scarlett and Ximena Torres
Born May 16, 2015, in Corpus Christi, Texas, to Silvia Hernandez and Raul Torres. Scarlett and Ximena are connected below the waist, sharing a colon and a bladder. On April 12, 2016, the twins are separated during a 12-hour procedure at the Driscoll Children’s Hospital in Texas.

Anias and Jadon McDonald
Born on September 9, 2015, in Chicago to Nicole and Christian McDonald. They are joined at the head. On October 13-14, 2016, Anias and Jadon are successfully separated after 27 hours of surgery at the Children’s Hospital at Montefiore Medical Center in New York.

Dawa and Nima Pelden
Born on July 13, 2017, in Bhutan to Bhumchu Zangmo. They are joined at the abdomen. On November 9, 2018, Dawa and Nima are successfully separated after a six-hour surgery at Melbourne Royal Children’s Hospital in Australia.

Safa and Marwa Ullah
Born January 7, 2017, in Pakistan to Zainab Bibi. They are joined at the head. On February 11, 2019, Safa and Marwa are successfully separated after 50 hours of surgery, that took place over a four month period, at London’s Great Ormond Street Hospital.

Ervina and Prefina Bangalo
Born June 29, 2018, in the Central African Republic to Ermine Nzutto. They share a skull and a majority of blood vessels. On June 5, 2020, the twins are successfully separated during an operation in Vatican City lasting 18 hours and involving 30 doctors and nurses.

Abigail and Micaela Bachinskiy
Born December 30, 2019, in Sacramento, California. The twins are joined at the head. On October 23-24, 2020, the twins are successfully separated during a 24-hour operation at UC Davis Children’s Hospital in Sacramento, California.

Siphosethu and Amahle Tyhalisi
Born January 30, 2021, in South Africa to Ntombikayise Tyhalisi. They are joined at the head. On February 24, 2021, the twins are successfully separated during an operation at Red Cross War Memorial Children’s Hospital in Cape Town.

Hassana and Hasina
Born in January 12, 2022 in Kaduna, Nigeria to Omar Rayano. They share an abdomen, pelvis, liver, intestines, urinary and reproductive system, and pelvic bones. On May 18, 2023 the twins are successfully separated during an operation at King Abdullah Specialized Children’s Hospital in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

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New approach gets newborns with opioid withdrawal out of the hospital sooner and with less medication | CNN



CNN
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Rates of neonatal abstinence syndrome surged in recent years, but a newer approach to caring for newborn babies exposed to opioids during pregnancy gets them out of the hospital sooner and with less medication, according to a study published on Sunday in the New England Journal of Medicine.

Newborns in opioid withdrawal may experience upset stomach, inconsolable crying, seizures and extreme discomfort. The study looked at the impacts of the Eat, Sleep, Console care approach on 1,300 infants at 26 US hospitals, and compared them with the current standard for caring for infants exposed to opioids.

Eat, Sleep, Console encourages involvement from parents, and prioritizes care that doesn’t involve medication, such as swaddling, skin-to-skin contact and breastfeeding. The usual approach involves a nurse measuring a baby’s withdrawal symptoms – such as their level of irritability, pitch of crying, fever or tremors – before providing treatment such as methadone or morphine.

“Compared to usual care, use of the Eat, Sleep, Console care approach substantially decreased time until infants with neonatal opioid withdrawal syndrome were medically ready for discharge, without increasing specified adverse outcomes,” the researchers wrote in the study.

The infants assessed with the Eat, Sleep, Console care method were discharged after eight days on average, compared with almost 15 days for the infants who were cared for by the standard approach, the researchers said. Additionally, infants in the Eat, Sleep, Console care group were 63% less likely to receive opioid medication – 19.5% received medication compared with 52% in the group receiving usual care.

The current approach to usual care “is a very comprehensive and nurse-led way of assessing the infant, whereas the Eat, Sleep, Console approach involves the mom in the way that you assess the infant, and allows the mom to take part in trying to soothe the infants and see if the infant is able to be soothed or is able to eat or is able to sleep,” according to Rebecca Baker, the director of the NIH HEAL Initiative, which provides grants to researchers studying ways to alleviate the country’s opioid health crisis.

“So, in that way, it’s a little bit more functional, like looking at the abilities of the infants versus how severely the infant is affected.”

Assessment results determine whether a baby should receive medication to control withdrawal symptoms, Baker said.

“So even with Eat, Sleep, Console, some infants that were exposed to a lot of opioids during a mother’s pregnancy, they’ll still need medication-based treatment for withdrawal. It’s just fewer of them need it and when they need it, they need less medication to manage the withdrawal symptoms,” she said.

The Eat, Sleep, Console method was developed about eight years ago, and some hospitals have already implemented it. But Baker said the study’s findings could change how more hospitals practice caring for infants with neonatal abstinence syndrome, which primarily occurs in infants who were exposed to opioids while in utero.

“The rise of really powerful fentanyl, the synthetic opioid, means that if a mother has used drugs during pregnancy, the baby will be exposed to more powerful drugs, which likely has an effect. We haven’t had a chance to study it in detail yet, but it will affect how they feel when they’re born and separated from the mom,” Baker said.

Findings from the study, which were presented at the PAS 2023 Meeting on Sunday, could have a big impact on hospitals by freeing up bed space in the neonatal intensive care unit and boosting morale among nurses at risk of burnout.

“We trained over 5,000 nurses as part of the study. They felt really empowered to help the mom care for the infant to help the infant recover, and so I think from a morale perspective, that’s incredibly important and valuable,” Baker said. “And as you know, nurses are facing really severe staffing shortages and morale challenges so having this tool available to them where they are kind of able to do something positive in the life of the infant and the connection with the mom is really important.”

The researchers are currently following up with a subgroup of the infants from the study for up to two years to see how they grow and develop.

“One of the things that we want to be really sure of is that there are no negative consequences associated with taking less medication, so we’ll be looking for that,” Baker said.

The United States has seen an explosion in the number of infants born with neonatal abstinence syndrome in recent years, swelling by about 82% between 2010 and 2017, according to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The number of maternal opioid-related diagnoses is also on the rise, increasing by 131% during that same time frame.

Nearly 60 infants are diagnosed with NAS each day, based on data from the U.S. Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality in 2020.

The United States’ opioid epidemic has been expanding in recent years and opioid deaths are the leading cause of accidental death in the US.

More than a million people have died of drug overdoses – mostly opioids – in the two decades since the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention began collecting that data. Deaths from opioid overdoses rose more than 17% in just one year, from about 69,000 in 2020 to about 81,020 in 2021, the CDC found.

Most are among adults, but children are also dying, largely after ingesting synthetic opioids such as fentanyl. Between 1999 and 2016, nearly 9,000 children and adolescents died of opioid poisoning, with the highest annual rates among adolescents 15 to 19, the CDC found.

Opioid use during pregnancy has been linked to maternal mortality and risk of overdose for the mother, according to the CDC, while infants risk preterm birth, low birthweight, breathing problems and feeding problems.

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Amid contradictory laws, hospitals in one state were unable to explain policies on emergency abortion care, study finds | CNN



CNN
 — 

Oklahoma’s laws restricting abortions have created a confusing, contradictory environment that may have a chilling effect on health care, new research says.

After the US Supreme Court overturned the right to an abortion last year with the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision, several states quickly passed laws that restricted such procedures. A report released Tuesday and described in the medical journal the Lancet finds that the laws in at least one state left workers at many hospitals confused about how to proceed.

When the court made its decision, the Oklahoma law that criminalized abortion in 1910 went back into effect, according to the state’s attorney general. Lawmakers then created multiple overlapping laws that further criminalized abortion and increased penalties for those who performed or assisted in an abortion procedure, according to the new report from Physicians for Human Rights, Oklahoma Call for Reproductive Justice and the Center for Reproductive Rights.

The Oklahoma laws allow abortion in the case of a medical emergency, but one doesn’t define a medical emergency. Another says it allows for the “preservation of life in a medical emergency,” defined as causing “substantial and irreversible body of bodily impairment” – which is not a medical term, experts say.

To understand exactly how well Oklahoma hospitals understood the laws, the researchers used a “secret shopper method,” study co-author Dr. Michele Heisler said.

Researchers posed as prospective patients and called 34 hospitals to ask about the emergency pregnancy care they offered.

Heisler said that when the researchers designed the study, she expected the hospitals to tell the patients that they could get help in an emergency but that a second provider might have to sign off on an abortion or that a doctor would have to get the decision past an “onerous” hospital oversight committee.

“What we weren’t expecting is that there would be so much confusion and contradictory information and really not clear information,” said Heisler, who is medical director at Physicians for Human Rights and a professor of internal medicine and public health at the University of Michigan.

The researchers said that none of the hospitals they contacted in Oklahoma was totally able to articulate clear, consistent policies for emergency obstetric care to potential patients.

Specifically, 65% – 22 of the 34 hospitals – were unable to provide information about policies, procedures or the support provided to doctors when it is clinically necessary to terminate a pregnancy to save the life of a pregnant patient.

In 14 of the 22 cases, hospital representatives provided unclear and/or incomplete answers about whether doctors require approval to perform a medically necessary abortion.

Three of the hospitals said they do not provide abortions at all, even though it remains legal in the case of a medical emergency or to “preserve the life” of the pregnant person. Four others provided information that was factually wrong, the report says.

Four hospitals said they had formal approval processes that clinicians must go through if they have a situation in which it is medically necessary to terminate a pregnancy; they cannot make that decision on their own.

Three hospitals indicated that they have policies for these situations but refused to share any information about them.

“Unfortunately, it is being just left up to individual health systems and clinicians to try to make sense of these laws and provide guidance and support,” Heisler said.

The Oklahoma Hospital Association said it has been in conversations with Oklahoma’s medical licensure boards to seek clarity about the state’s conflicting abortion laws.

The association sent guidance to its members in September to explain what it interpreted as “saving the life of a pregnant woman” and what the laws would mean for a person made pregnant through rape or incest, among other issues. The guidance explains that the state’s criminal laws do not make an exception for these circumstances unless it is to save the life of someone who is pregnant in a medical emergency.

The guidance also warns that a person convicted of “administering, prescribing, advising, or procuring a woman to take any medicine drug or substance, or a person convicted of using or employing any instruction or ‘other means whatever,’ with the intent to procure an abortion, shall be guilty of a felony punishable by two (2) to (5) years imprisonment. From August 27, 2022, forward, a person convicted of performing or attempting to perform an abortion shall be guilty of a felony punishable by a fine not to exceed One Hundred Thousand ($100,000.00) and/or imprisonment not to exceed ten (10) years.”

The guidance says the “persons potentially liable” are the provider, not the pregnant person.

Study co-author Rabia Muqaddam, a senior staff attorney at the Center for Reproductive Rights who is working on multiple cases challenging the abortion bans in Oklahoma, called the overlapping laws a “bizarre” situation.

“Aside from the fact that there are so many of them is that they all conflict,” she said. “All of the laws have inconsistent definitions, which is where a lot of the confusion comes from for health care providers. What’s most dangerous for patients is the fact that the definitions of medical emergency and life-preserving abortions is unclear and inconsistent.”

“If I was the hospital general counsel and I was looking at these laws, I have absolutely no idea what my physician could or could not do in any particular circumstance,” she said.

When there is a lack of clarity and when penalties are involved, “what you get is massive chill.”

“Physicians are terrified. They’re terrified that if they make the wrong decision, they’re going to go to jail. They’re going to lose their license. And at the other end of that is that patients are being seriously harmed,” Muqaddam said.

Sonia M. Suter, a professor of law at George Washington University who was not involved in the new research, said recent abortion laws have created “such a mess.”

“You are telling physicians that they have two conflicting obligations,” said Suter, whose scholarship focuses on issues at the intersection of law, medicine and bioethics, with a particular focus on reproductive rights.

There is an obligation to stabilize patients in emergencies that may not always qualify as “life-threatening,” but doctors and hospitals could also risk being sued because the doctors are not following the standard of care, “which you can’t do with how some of these exceptions are worded.”

She said hospitals also don’t know how the laws will be applied. Lawyers typically will instruct institutions to interpret the law as conservatively as possible, and physicians may be equally conservative because they don’t want to risk their licenses or face stiff penalties.

“It’s just devastating for everybody,” Suter said. “It’s just cruel.”

Molly Meegan, general counsel for the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, said state laws to restrict abortion with emergency exceptions are not comprehensive.

“They can’t be applied in a medical situation. They just aren’t practical,” she said. “They have an ethical and personal duty to their patients to do what is best for their patients. It can at times be in direct conflict with whatever the laws are, especially if they’re vague, and most of the ob/gyns throughout the country, including in Oklahoma, are in an impossible situation.”

Meegan and Suter both believe the confusion will lead to the deaths of more women. Those who survive may be left with dire health problems, including losing the ability to have children in the future.

“They already have horrific maternal mortality and infant mortality rates,” Suter said. “It feels like the end of evidence-based medicine.”

According to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Oklahoma persistently ranks among the states with the worst rates of maternal deaths, even before the new abortion laws went into effect. The state had a maternal mortality rate of 25.2 deaths per 100,000 live births for 2018-20, well above the national average.

For communities of color, the rate is significantly worse, according to the Oklahoma Health Department.

White women had 23.2 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births for 2018-20, the lowest rate overall in Oklahoma. The rates for Black women and Native American women were about twice as high: 49.4 and 44.4, respectively.

Oklahoma is not alone. The 13 states where most abortions are banned generally have some of the highest infant and maternal mortality rates in the country, Heisler said. Even more states could be restricting abortion access soon, the experts believe, with potentially more problems to come.

“The hostile climate many states are creating for the health care field by enacting criminal and other penalties for abortion care is an outcome whose reverberations we are only just beginning to see,” said Kelly Baden, vice president for public policy at the reproductive health nonprofit Guttmacher Institute.

Heisler noted that the researchers don’t blame the hospitals or the doctors for this confusion. Overall, she said, the staffers who talked to the researchers “were wonderful,” despite the circumstances.

“They were empathetic. They said, ‘I completely understand.’ They tried to give answers. They acted in good faith. But really, none of the hospitals were really able to say what we were hoping for, which is to unequivocally state that they would stand behind their clinicians and that clinicians at their facilities would be able to use their best clinical judgment for the individual case and that it would be made as medical decisions should be in collaboration with the patient, taking into account to their needs, their preferences and their values,” she said.

“We are recognizing that hospitals and clinicians are in an untenable situation,” Heisler added.

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These women ran an underground abortion network in the 1960s. Here’s what they fear might happen today | CNN



CNN
 — 

The voice on the phone in 1966 was gruff and abrupt: “Do you want the Chevy, the Cadillac or the Rolls Royce?”

A Chevy abortion would cost about $200, cash in hand, the voice explained. A Cadillac was around $500, and the Rolls Royce was $1,000.

“You can’t afford more than the Chevy? Fine,” the voice growled. “Go to this address at this time. Don’t be late and don’t forget the cash.” The voice disappeared.

Dorie Barron told CNN she recalls staring blankly at the phone in her hand, startled by the sudden empty tone. Then it hit her: She had just arranged an illegal abortion with the Chicago Mafia.

The motel Barron was sent to was in an unfamiliar part of Chicago, a scary “middle of nowhere,” she said. She was told to go to a specific room, sit on the bed and wait. Suddenly three men and a woman came in the door.

“I was petrified. They spoke all of three sentences to me the entire time: ‘Where’s the money?’ ‘Lie back and do as I tell you.’ And finally ‘Get in the bathroom,’” when the abortion was over, Barron said. “Then all of a sudden they were gone.”

Bleeding profusely, Barron managed to find a cab to take her home. When the bleeding didn’t stop, her bed-ridden mother made her go to the hospital.

At 24, Barron was taking care of her ailing mother and her 2-year-old daughter when she discovered she was pregnant. Her boyfriend, who had no job and lived with his parents, “freaked,” said Barron, who appears in a recent HBO documentary. The boyfriend suggested she get an abortion. She had never considered that option.

“But what was I to do? My mom was taking care of my daughter from her bed while I worked — they would read and play games until I got home,” Barron said.”How was either of us going to cope with a baby?

“Looking back, I realize I was taking my life in my hands,” said Barron, now an 81-year-old grandmother. “To this day it gives me chills. If I had died, what in God’s green earth would have happened to my mom and daughter?”

Women in the 1960s endured restrictions relatively unknown to women today. The so-called “fairer sex” could not serve on juries and often could not get an Ivy League education. Women earned about half as much as a man doing the same job and were seldom promoted.

Women could not get a credit card unless they were married — and then only if their husband co-signed. The same applied to birth control — only the married need apply. More experienced women shared a workaround with the uninitiated: “Go to Woolworth, buy a cheap wedding-type ring and wear it to your doctor’s appointment. And don’t forget to smile.”

Marital rape wasn’t legally considered rape. And, of course, women had no legal right to terminate a pregnancy until four states — Alaska, Hawaii, New York and Washington — legalized abortion in 1970, three years before Roe v. Wade became the law of the land.

Illinois had no such protection, said Heather Booth, a lifelong feminist activist and political strategist: “Three people discussing having an abortion in Chicago in 1965 was a conspiracy to commit felony murder.”

Despite that danger, a courageous band of young women — most in their 20’s, some in college, some married with children — banded together in Chicago to create an underground abortion network. The group was officially created in 1969 as the “Abortion Counseling Service of Women’s Liberation.”

But after running ads in an underground newspaper: “Pregnant? Don’t want to be? Call Jane,” each member of the group answered the phone as “Jane.”

Despite their youth, members of Jane managed to run an illegal abortion service dedicated to each woman's needs.
From left: Martha Scott, Jeanne Galatzer-Levy, Abby Pariser, Sheila Smith and Madeline Schwenk.

“We were co-conspirators with the women who called us,” said 75-year-old Laura Kaplan, who published a book about the service in 1997 entitled “The Story of Jane: The Legendary Underground Feminist Abortion Service.”

“We’ll protect you; we hope you’ll protect us,” Kaplan said. “We’ll take care of you; we hope you’ll take care of us.”

What started as referrals to legitimate abortion providers changed to personalized service when some members of Jane learned to safely do the abortions themselves. Between the late 1960s and 1973, the year that the Supreme Court decided Roe v. Wade, Jane had arranged or performed over 11,000 abortions.

“Our culture is always searching for heroes,” said Kaplan. “But you don’t have to be a hero to do extraordinary things. Jane was just ordinary people working together — and look what we could accomplish, which is amazing, right?”

Even after several members were caught and arrested, the group continued to provide abortions for women too poor to travel to states where abortion had been legalized.

“I prayed a lot. I didn’t want to go to jail,” said 80-year-old Marie Learner, who allowed the Janes to perform abortions at her apartment.

“Some of us had little children. Some were the sole breadwinners in their home,” Learner said. “It was fearlessness in the face of overwhelming odds.”

Marie Learner opened her home to women undergoing abortions. Her neighbors knew, she said, but did not tell police.

The story of Jane has been immortalized in Kaplan’s book, numerous print articles, a 2022 movie, “Call Jane,” starring Elizabeth Banks and Sigourney Weaver, and a documentary on HBO (which, like CNN, is owned by Warner Bros. Discovery).

Today the historical tale of Jane has taken on a new significance. After the 2022 Supreme Court reversal of Roe v. Wade and the mid-term takeover of the US House of Representatives by Republicans, emboldened conservative lawmakers and judges have acted on their anti-abortion beliefs.

Currently more than a dozen states have banned or imposed severe restrictions on abortion. Georgia has banned abortions after six weeks, even though women are typically unaware they are pregnant at that stage. In mid-April, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis signed a bill that would ban most abortions after six weeks. It won’t go into effect until the state Supreme Court overturns its previous precedent on abortion. Several other states are considering similar legislation. In other states, judicial battles are underway to protect abortion access.

“It’s a horrific situation right now. People will be harmed, some may even die,” said Booth, who helped birth the Jane movement while in college.

“Women without family support, without the information they need, may be isolated and either harm themselves looking to end an unwanted pregnancy or will be harmed because they went to an unscrupulous and illegal provider,” said Booth, now 77.

A key difference between the 60s and today is medication abortion, which 54% of people in the United States used to end a pregnancy in 2022. Available via prescription and through the mail, use of the drugs is two-fold: A person takes a first pill, mifepristone, to block the hormone needed for a pregnancy to continue.  A day or two later, the patient takes a second drug, misoprostol, which causes the uterus to contract, creating the cramping and bleeding of labor.

In early April a Texas judge, US District Judge Matthew Kacsmaryk – a Trump appointee who has been vocal about his anti-abortion stance — suspended the US Food and Drug Administration’s approval of mifepristone despite 23 years of data showing the drug is safe to use, safer even than penicillin or Viagra.

On Friday, the Supreme Court froze the ruling and a subsequent decision by the Fifth US Circuit Court of Appeals at the request of the Justice Department and the drug manufacturer. The action allows access to mifepristone in states where it’s legal until appeals play out over the months to come.

However, 15 states currently restrict access to medication abortion, even by mail.

The actions of anti-abortion activists, who have been accused of “judge shopping” to get the decisions they want, is “an unprecedented attack on democracy meant to undermine the will of the vast majority of Americans who want this pill — mifepristone — to remain legal and available,” Heather Booth told CNN.

“This is a further weaponization of the courts to brazenly advance the end goal of banning abortion entirely,” she added.

If women in her day could have had access to medications that could be used safely in their homes, they would not have been forced to risk their lives, said Dorie Barron, thinking back to her own terrifying abortion in a sketchy Chicago motel.

“I’m depressed as hell, watching stupid, indifferent men control and destroy women’s lives all over again,” she said. “I really fear getting an abortion could soon be like 1965.”

Chicago college student Heather Booth had just finished a summer working with civil rights activists in Mississippi when she was asked to help with a different kind of injustice.

Heather Booth, 18, with civil rights heroine Fannie Lou Hamer during

A girl in another dorm was considering suicide because she was pregnant. Booth, who excelled at both organization and chutzpah, found a local doctor and negotiated an abortion for the girl. Word spread quickly.

“There were about 100 women a week calling for help, much more than one person could handle,” Booth said. “I recruited about 12 other people and began training them how to do the counseling.”

Counseling was a key part of the new service. This was a time when people “barely spoke about sex, how women’s bodies functioned or even how people got pregnant,” Booth said. To help each woman understand what was going to happen to them, Booth quizzed the abortion provider about every aspect of the procedure.

“What do you do in advance? Will it be painful? How painful? Can you walk afterwards? Do you need someone to be with you to take you home?” The questions continued: “What amount of bleeding is expected, and can a woman handle it on their own? If there’s a problem is there an urgent number they can call?”

Armed with details few if any physicians provided, the counselors at Jane could fully inform each caller about the abortion experience. The group even published a flyer describing the procedure, long before the groundbreaking 1970 book “Our Bodies, Ourselves” began to educate women about their sexuality and health.

“I don’t particularly like doctors because I always feel dissatisfied with the experience,” said Marie Learner, who spoke to many of the women who underwent an abortion at her home.

“But after their abortion at Jane, women told me, ‘Wow, that was the best experience I’ve ever had with people helping me with a medical issue.’”

Eileen Smith, now 73, was one of those women. “Jane made you feel like you were part of this bigger picture, like we were all in this together,” she said. “They helped me do this illegal thing and then they’re calling to make sure I’m OK? Wow!

“For me, it helped battle the feeling that I was a bad person, that ‘What’s wrong with me? Why did I get pregnant? I should know better’ voice in my head,” said Smith. “It was priceless.”

Like many young women in the 60s, Heather Booth often protested for civil and women's rights.

Many of the women who joined Jane had never experienced an abortion. Some viewed the work as political, a part of the burgeoning feminist movement. Others considered the service as simply humanitarian health care. All saw the work as an opportunity to respect each woman’s choice.

“I was a stay-at-home mom with four kids,” said Martha Scott, who is now in her 80s. “We knew the woman needed to feel as though she was in control of what was happening to her. We were making it happen for her, but it was not about us. It was about her.”

Some volunteers, like Dorie Barron, experienced the Jane difference firsthand when she found herself pregnant a few years after her abortion at the hands of the Mafia.

“It was a 100% total reversal — I had never experienced such kindness,” Barron said. Not only did a Jane hold each woman’s hand and explain every step of the process, “they gave each of us a giant supply of maternity sanitary pads, and a nice big handful of antibiotics,” she said. “And for the next week, I got a phone call every other day to see how I was.”

Barron soon began volunteering for Jane by providing pregnancy testing for women in the back of a church in Chicago’s Hyde Park.

“It wasn’t just abortion,” Barron explained. “We also said, ‘You could consider adoption,’ and gave adoption referrals. And if the woman wanted to continue with her pregnancy, we said, ‘Fine, please by all that is holy make sure you get prenatal care, take your vitamins, and eat as best you can.’ It was women helping women with whatever they needed.”

Most of the women who contacted Jane were unable to support themselves, in unhealthy relationships, or already had children at home, so the service was a way of “helping them get back on track,” said Smith, who, like Barron, had begun working for Jane after her abortion.

“We were telling them ‘This isn’t the end of the world. You can continue to leave your boyfriend or your husband or continue to just take care of those kids you have.’ We were there to help them get through this,” said Smith, who later became a homecare nurse.

From left: Eileen Smith, Diane Stevens and Benita Greenfield were three of the dozens of women who volunteered for Jane.

Diane Stevens says she came to work for Jane after experiencing an abortion in 1968 at the age of 19. She was living in California at the time, which provided “therapeutic abortions” if approved in advance by physicians.

“I’d had a birth control failure, and I was coached by Planned Parenthood on how to do this,” said Stevens, now 74. “I had to see two psychiatrists and one doctor and tell them I was not able to go through with the pregnancy because it would a danger to both my physical and mental health.

“I was admitted to the psychiatric ward, although I didn’t really know that — I thought I was just in a hospital bed. But oh no, ‘I was mentally ill,’ so that’s where they put me,” said Stevens, who later went to nursing school with Smith. “Then they wheeled me off for the abortion. I had general anesthesia, was there for two days, and then I was discharged. Isn’t that crazy?”

Sakinah Ahad Shannon, now 75, was one of the few Black women who volunteered as a counselor at Jane. She joined after accompanying a friend who was charged a mere $50 for her abortion. At that time, Jane’s fee was between $1 and $100, based on what the woman could afford to pay, Shannon said.

“When I walked in, I said, ‘Oh my God, here we go again. It’s a room of White women, archangels who are going to save the world,’” said Shannon, a social worker and member of the Congress of Racial Equality, an interracial group of non-violent activists who pioneered “Freedom Rides” and helped organize the March on Washington in 1963.

What she heard and saw at her friend’s counseling session was so impressive it “changed my life,” Shannon said. She and her family later opened and operated three Chicago abortion clinics for over 25 years, all using the Jane philosophy of communication and respect.

“It was a profoundly amazing experience for me,” she said. “I call the Janes my sisters. The color line didn’t matter. We were all taking the same risk.”

Sakinah Ahad Shannon and her daughters went on to open and run three abortion clinics in Chicago.

It wasn’t long before the women discovered a “doctor” performing abortions for Jane had been lying about his credentials. There was no medical degree — in the HBO documentary, he admitted he had honed his skills by assisting an abortion provider.

The group imploded. A number of members quit in horror and dismay. For the women who stayed, it was an epiphany, said Martha Scott. Like her, several of the Janes had been assisting this fake doctor for years, learning the procedures step by step.

“You’d learn how to insert a speculum, then how to swap out the vagina with an antiseptic, then how to give numbing shots around the cervix and then how to dilate the cervix. You learned and mastered each step before you moved on to the next,” said Laura Kaplan, who chronicled the procedure in her book.

By now, several of the Janes were quite experienced and willing to do the work. Why not perform the abortions themselves?

“Clearly, this was an intense responsibility,” said Judith Acana, a 27-year-old high school teacher who joined Jane in 1970. She started her training by helping “long terms,” women who were four or five months along in the pregnancy.

“Remember, abortion was illegal (in Illinois) so it could take weeks for a woman to find help,” said Arcana, now 80. “Frequently women who wanted an abortion at 8 or 10 weeks wound up being 16 or 18 weeks or more by the time they found Jane.”

The miscarriage could happen quickly, but it rarely did, she said. It usually took anywhere from one to two days.

“Women who had no one to help them would come back when contractions started,” Arcana said. “One of my strongest memories is of a teenage girl who had an appointment to have her miscarriage on my living room floor.”

The group also paid two Janes to live in an apartment and be on call 24/7 to assist women who had no one to help them miscarry at home, said Arcana, a lifelong educator, author and poet. “But many women took care of it on their own, in very amazing and impressive and powerful ways,” she said.

Judith Arcana learned how to do abortions herself and wrote about the Jane experience in poems, stories, essays and books.

Any woman who had concerns or questions while miscarrying alone could always call Jane for advice any time of the day or night.

“People would call in a panic: ‘The bleeding won’t stop,’” Smith recalled. “I would tell them, ‘Get some ice, put it on your stomach, elevate your legs, relax.’ And they would say ‘Oh my gosh, thank you!’ because they were so scared.”

For women who were in their first trimester, Jane offered traditional D&C abortions — the same dilation and curettage used by hospitals then and today, said Scott, who performed many of the abortions for Jane. Later the group used vacuum aspiration, which was over in a mere five to 10 minutes.

“Vacuum aspiration was much easier to do, and I think it’s less difficult for the woman,” Scott said. “Abortion is exactly like any other medical procedure. It’s the decision that’s an issue — the doing is very straightforward. This was something a competent, trained person could do.”

It was May 3, 1972. Judith Arcana was the driver that day, responsible for relocating women waiting at what was called “the front” to a separate apartment or house where the abortions were done, known as “the place.”

On this day, a Wednesday, the “place” was a South Shore high-rise apartment. Arcana was escorting a woman who had completed her abortion when they were stopped by police at the elevator.

“They asked us, ‘Which apartment did you come out of?’ And the poor woman burst into tears and blurted out the apartment number,” Arcana said. “They took me downstairs, put cuffs on me and hooked me to a steel hook inside of the police van.”

Inside the apartment on the 11th floor, Martha Scott said she was setting up the bedroom for the next abortion when she heard a knock at the door, followed by screaming: “You can’t come in!”

“I shut the bedroom door and locked it,” Scott said, then hid the instruments and sat on the bed to wait. It wasn’t long until a cop kicked the door in and made her join the other women in the living room.

“We tell this joke about how the cops came in, saw all these women and said, ‘Where’s the abortionist?’ You know, assuming that it would be a man,” Scott said.

By day’s end, seven members of Jane were behind bars: Martha Scott, Diane Stevens, Judy Arcana, Jeanne Galatzer-Levy, Abby Pariser, Sheila Smith and Madeleine Schwenk. Suddenly what had been an underground effort for years was front page headlines.

“Had we not gotten arrested, I think no one would ever have known about Jane other than the women we served,” Scott said.

Top: Sheila Smith and Martha Scott.
Bottom: Diane Stevens and Judith Arcana.

An emergency meeting of Jane was called. The turnout was massive — even women who had not been active in months showed up, anxious to know the extent of the police probe, according to the women with whom CNN spoke.

Despite widespread fear and worry, the group immediately began making alternate plans for women scheduled for abortions at Jane in the next few days to weeks. The group even paid for transportation to other cities where abortion had already been legalized, they said.

News reports over the next few days gave further details of the bust: There was no widespread investigation by the police. It was a single incident, triggered by a call from a sister-in-law who was upset with her relative’s decision to have an abortion, they said.

“It wasn’t long after I was arrested that I came back and worked for quite a few months,” said Scott, one of the few fully trained to do abortions.

“I like to think I was a good soldier,” Scott said. “I like to think what did made a difference not only to a whole bunch of people, but also to ourselves. It gave us a sense of empowerment that comes when you do something that is hard to do and also right.”

As paranoia eased, women began to come back to work at Jane, determined to carry on.

“After the bust, we had a meeting and were told ‘Everybody needs to start assisting and learn how to do abortions.’ I was like, ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’” said Eileen Smith, who had not been arrested. “But you felt like you really didn’t have much of a choice. We had to keep the service running.”

Laura Kaplan volunteered for the Janes, later immortalizing the group in her book,

The preliminary hearing for the arrested seven was in August. Several of the women in the apartment waiting for abortions the day of the arrest suddenly developed amnesia and refused to testify. According to Kaplan’s book, one of the women later said, “The cops tried to push me around, but f**k them. I wasn’t going to tell on you.”

It didn’t matter. Each Jane was charged with 11 counts of abortion and conspiracy to commit abortion, with a possible sentence of up to 110 years in prison.

As they waited for trial, the lawyer for the seven, Jo-Anne Wolfson, adopted delaying tactics, Kaplan said. A case representing a Texas woman, cited as “Jane Roe” to protect her privacy, was being considered by the US Supreme Court. If the Court ruled in Roe’s favor, the case against the Jane’s might be thrown out.

That’s exactly what happened. On March 9, 1973, three months after the Supreme Court had legalized abortion in the US, the case against the seven women was dropped and their arrest records were expunged.

Later that spring, a majority of Janes, burned out by the intensity of the work over the last few years, voted to close shop. An end of Jane party was held on May 20. According to Kaplan’s book, the invitation read:

“You are cordially invited to attend The First, Last and Only Curette Caper; the Grand Finale of the Abortion Counseling Service. RSVP: Call Jane.”

Today, most of the surviving members of Jane are in their 70s and 80s, shocked but somehow not surprised by the actions of abortion opponents.

“This is a country of ill-educated politicos who know nothing about women’s bodies, nor do they care,” said Dorie Barron. “It will take generations to even begin to undo the devastating harm to women’s rights.”

In the meantime, women should research all available options, keep that information confidential, seek support from groups working for abortion rights, and “share your education with as many women as you can,” Barron added.

As more and more reproductive freedoms have been rolled back over the past year, many of the Janes are angry and fearful for the future.

Abortion rights demonstrators walk across the Brooklyn Bridge in New York nearly two weeks after the leak of a draft Supreme Court opinion that would overturn Roe v. Wade.

“This is about the most intimate decision of our lives — when, whether and with whom we have a child. Everyone should have the ability to make decisions about our own lives, bodies, and futures without political interference,” said Heather Booth, who has spent her life after leaving Jane fighting for civil and women’s rights.

“We need to organize, raise our voices and our votes, and overturn this attack on our freedom and our lives. I have seen that when we take action and organize we can change the world.”

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Covid-sniffing dogs can help detect infections in K-12 schools, new study suggests | CNN



CNN
 — 

Elementary students lined up behind a white curtain in the middle of a grand gymnasium at their school in northern California. They stood still as a dog handler walked a yellow Labrador along the other side of the curtain.

Hidden from the children’s view, the 2-year-old female pup sniffed each child’s shoes from beneath that curtain barrier. After each sniff, the dog looked back up at the handler. Then the handler brought the dog to the next tiny pair of feet beneath the curtain, and the dog curiously brought her snout close to those toes, then a young girl’s lavender tennis shoes and then another child’s white high-tops.

The dog was smelling for what are called volatile organic compounds that are known to be associated with Covid-19 infections.

While watching the Covid-sniffing dog in action, Dr. Carol Glaser saw her vision come to life.

Months prior, Glaser and her team were implementing the school’s Covid-19 testing program, using antigen nasal swab tests. Around that same time, Glaser heard about reports of dogs being used to screen for Covid-19 infections in sports venues, airports and other public settings.

That’s when Glaser had her “aha” moment – incorporating canines into Covid-19 testing programs at schools, nursing homes or other public facilities could help save time, personnel, possibly even costs, and “would be a lot more fun,” she said.

“I thought if we had dogs in schools to screen the students it would be so much faster and less burdensome for schools,” said Glaser, assistant deputy director in Central Laboratory Services and medical officer for infectious disease laboratories at the California Department of Public Health.

“Remember when an antigen test is done at school, as opposed to home, there’s a whole bunch of rules and regulations that run under that. It’s not as simple as just handing those things out at school and having the kids do them,” said Glaser, who oversaw antigen testing programs at some California public schools.

For now, Glaser and her colleagues described in a new study the lessons they learned from the Covid-19 dog screening pilot program that they launched in some California K-12 public schools.

In their research, published Monday in the journal JAMA Pediatrics, they wrote that the goal was to use dogs for screening and only use antigen tests on people whom the dogs screened as positive – ultimately reducing the volume of antigen tests performed by about 85%.

They wrote that their study supports the “use of dogs for efficient and noninvasive” Covid-19 screening and “could be used for other pathogens.”

The dogs used in the pilot program – two yellow Labradors named Rizzo and Scarlett – trained for a couple of months in a laboratory, sniffing donated socks that were worn by people who either had Covid-19 or didn’t. The dogs alerted their handlers when they detected socks that had traces of the disease – and received a reward of either Cheerios or liver treats.

“The one thing we do know for sure is when you’re collecting a sample off of a human being, you want to go where the most scent is produced. That is the head, the pits, the groin and the feet. Given those options, I went with feet,” said Carol Edwards, an author of the study and executive director of the nonprofit Early Alert Canines, which trains medical alert service dogs, including Rizzo and Scarlett.

“We collected some socks from people willing to donate socks, and we taught the dogs, by smelling the socks, which ones were the Covid socks and they picked it up very quickly,” Edwards said. “Then we moved into the schools and started sniffing the kids at the ankles.”

Last year, from April to May, the dogs visited 27 schools across California to screen for Covid-19 in the real world. They completed more than 3,500 screenings.

Rizzo acted as an energized worker, performing tasks with eagerness, Edwards said, while Scarlett tended to have more of a mellow and easygoing personality.

The screening process involves people – who voluntarily opted in to participate – standing 6 feet apart while the dogs, led by handlers, sniff each person’s ankles and feet. The dogs are trained to sit as a way of alerting their handlers that they detect a potential Covid-19 infection.

To protect each person’s privacy, sometimes the people face away from the dogs and toward a wall or behind a curtain, so that they can’t see the dogs or when a dog sits. If the dog sits in between two people, the handler will verbally ask the dog, “Show me?” And the dog will move its snout to point toward the correct person.

“Our dogs can come in, they can screen 100 kids in a half hour, and then only the ones the dog alerts on have to actually do a test,” Edwards said. “There’s no invasive nasal swab unless the dog happens to indicate on you.”

The researchers found that the dogs accurately alerted their handlers to 85 infections and ruled out 3,411 infections, resulting in an overall accuracy of 90%.

However, the dogs inaccurately alerted their handlers to infections in 383 instances and missed 18 infections, which means the dogs demonstrated 83% sensitivity and 90% specificity when it came to detecting Covid-19 infections in the study.

“Once we stepped into the schools, we saw a drop in their specificity and sensitivity due to the change,” Edwards said, referring to the distractions that children in a school setting can bring. However, Edward said, accuracy improved as the dogs spent more times in schools.

In comparison, Covid-19 BinaxNOW antigen tests have been shown in one real-world study to demonstrate 93.3% sensitivity and 99.9% specificity. That study was conducted in San Francisco and published in 2021 in The Journal of Infectious Diseases.

“We never said the dogs will replace the antigen. This was a time for us to learn how they compared,” Glaser said. “We will always plan on doing some amount of backup testing, but the idea would be that the actual antigen testing would be a fraction of what it would currently be because of the dogs.”

“To run these antigen testing programs at school, it’s taking a lot of school personnel resources, test cards as well as biohazard waste. So, I have no doubt in the long-run once it can be perfected, dogs will be cheaper, but I don’t have a great cost comparison,” she said.

This isn’t the first time that dogs’ abilities to detect traces of Covid-19 infections in real-time have been studied in the scientific literature.

“What we have learned in this work is that the dogs in general are capable of discriminating samples from individuals testing,” said Dr. Cindy Otto, professor and director of the Penn Vet Working Dog Center at the University of Pennsylvania, who was not involved in the new study.

Regarding the new research, Otto said, “On the surface their results are encouraging and with the appropriate selection of dogs, rigorous training and impeccable quality control, there is the potential for dogs to be incorporated in threat monitoring.”

Now that Glaser and her colleagues have published research about their Covid-19 dog screening pilot program, she is eager to implement the approach in nursing home settings.

“Honestly, schools aren’t that interested in testing anymore. The outbreaks just aren’t what they used to be, but what we have done is we’ve transitioned to nursing homes, because there is a tremendous need in nursing homes,” Glaser said, adding that many residents may prefer to undergo screening with a dog than with uncomfortable nasal swabs. “What would you rather have: A swab in your nose or something that just maybe tickles your ankle at most for testing?”

Covid-sniffing dogs Scarlett and Rizzo at a skilled nursing home in California.

In skilled nursing homes, the dogs visit each resident’s room to sniff their feet, calmly smelling for Covid-19 volatile organic compounds as the resident lies in bed or sits in a chair.

“Thinking about where dogs would be deployed, I do really think nursing homes and residential care facilities and even schools – if they were ever to have a big outbreak – would be the natural next fit for this,” Glaser said.

“We think we’ll probably end up primarily using them in nursing homes,” she said. “But we’re still doing a little bit of both – there was a school that asked us to come back last week.”

The pilot program within California public schools also has left Edwards with hope for future opportunities in which canines can help detect disease in humans.

“I really do think it’s the tip of the iceberg. This is the door swinging wide open, and now we need to collaborate with those in the science world and figure out where we can take this,” Edwards said.

“There’s been a lot of chatter, even in the very beginning of this project, talking about what other diseases they could do. We’ve talked about TB, we’ve talked about flu A and B, possibly for this next flu season, seeing if we can get the dogs to alert on that,” she said, as volatile organic compounds are also produced by people with influenza. “It’s just a matter of being able to figure out how to collect samples, how to train the dogs, and then to be safe and effective around those diseases too.”

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The cost of senior care is rising while caregivers are ‘drowning’ without help | CNN



CNN
 — 

For most of her life, Tammy La Barbera has been taking care of someone other than herself. First, it was her two children. Then, it was her brother and father, who both died after being diagnosed with cancer. Now, Tammy is taking care of her 90-year-old mother, Ada, who was diagnosed with dementia five years ago.

In recent months, Ada’s condition deteriorated so quickly that Tammy resigned from her job as an event manager to become a full-time caregiver.

“I don’t have help here, and I know it’s going to get worse,” she said.

Tammy, 53, struggles to provide her mother with the care she needs and would like to place her in a memory care facility equipped to handle the mood swings and outbursts that her mother has due to her condition. But Tammy says she doesn’t expect to ever have enough money to pay for that care.

Recently, she said, she looked into an assisted living facility near her home in Murrieta, California. She says placing her mother at the facility – or others like it – would cost between $7,000 and $10,000 a month out-of-pocket.

Across the country, millions of caregivers like Tammy are looking after a loved one – a relative or a friend. About 53 million US adults are caregivers, according to a 2020 report from AARP.

Sixty-three percent of US caregivers who look after adults said the person they were looking after needed care because of “long-term physical conditions,” the report says.

Since her mother’s diagnosis, Tammy’s life has been turned upside-down.

Ada cannot bathe herself or cook for herself. Most days, she doesn’t even remember who her daughter is.

“All her daily duties are done by me,” Tammy said, caring for her mother all day is like being a prisoner in her own home.

Sooner or later, she said, she will have to move her mother to a long-term care facility and do whatever she can to pay for it.

“I know that I’m reaching a crossroads with my mom’s care, and I’m trying to do this as long as I can,” Tammy said. “But I know the way things are going, and if she’s progressing pretty rapidly, I’m not going to have a choice.”

Ada La Barbera was a teacher for 20 years, so she gets a pension check each month. Tammy puts that money, along with her mother’s monthly Social Security checks, toward bills.

It’s just over $3,300 a month, and along with Tammy’s dwindling savings, it’s barely enough to keep them afloat, Tammy says. She can barely afford her rent.

It’s because of her financial struggles that Tammy has been putting off long-term care for her mother.

Where Tammy and Ada live in California, a home health aide would cost about $137 for one hour of care, according to an online calculator from AARP.

“When you’re on a fixed income, you can’t afford that,” Tammy said. “So I don’t have the luxury to do that.”

A long-term care facility is even more expensive. On average, it costs $10,830 a month to stay at a nursing home and $5,806 per month for an assisted living facility, according to the nonprofit National Investment Center for Senior Housing and Care.

Then there is memory care, where Tammy says her mother belongs.

Memory care facilities are the fastest-growing sector of the senior housing market, according to the National Investment Center. On average, memory care costs just over $7,500 a month, center COO Chuck Harry says.

These facilities offer more hands-on care for people with dementia. They can include special features like locked units that prevent wandering patients from leaving the facility unattended and enclosed outdoor spaces where patients can move about safely.

A nurse comes to see Ada at home every other week. During that 40-minute visit, Ada’s vitals are checked, and her medications are adjusted. Those visits are covered by Medicare, Tammy says.

Medicare is a medical health insurance program that is for people 65 years or older. But Medicare does not cover the cost of a long-term care facility.

And although Ada and Tammy are on a fixed income, Ada doesn’t qualify for other federal safety net programs like Medicaid because Tammy says they are not considered low-income.

For middle-income families, Medicaid goes into effect only after a family has gone through the process of “spending down” their assets until they qualify for the program.

“That is usually the path of anyone going into a nursing home for the long term: spending your own money – which is all out of pocket – and then reaching a Medicaid level of eligibility,” said Susan Reinhard, senior vice president and director of the AARP Public Policy Institute, noting that each state has its own Medicaid program and process.

Until a family qualifies for Medicaid, the program will only cover the medical costs of a stay at a long-term facility, not room and board.

Caroline Pearson, the lead author of a landmark 2019 demographic study called “The Forgotten Middle,” says most middle-income Americans find themselves in a position where they are too “wealthy” to receive Medicaid coverage for long-term care services but too “poor” to afford the out-of-pocket costs of that care.

So why does putting a loved one in a nursing home or an assisted living facility cost so much? Providing long-term care services is expensive, Pearson says, adding that the senior housing industry requires a large workforce of nurses and staff to support it. That is also expensive.

Additionally, as seniors sell their homes and move into these facilities, long-term care facilitators are essentially providing housing, she said. And housing is not cheap.

The senior housing industry also caters to a high-income population, according to Pearson, who is now executive director of the Peterson Center on Healthcare.

“The fit and finish at the buildings … [residents] expect to be really high-end. The amount of amenities and services that are part of that senior housing property … they expect to be high-end,” she said. “The market has seen good returns and then replicated that model.”

And the demand for high-quality, long-term care is only expected to go up as the baby boomer generation continues to age, according to Pearson.

“Most people don’t begin to need long-term care services until between 75 and 85. And so as the baby boomers hit those ages, that is where we’re going to see that demand really explode,” she said.

According to the US Census Bureau, baby boomers – people born from 1946 to 1964 – will all be over the age of 65 by 2030. The oldest members of that generation will be 84 at that point.

In 2019, there were about 8 million middle-income seniors – people 75 and older – living in the United States, Pearson says in her study.

She projects that there will be 14.4 million middle-income seniors in the US by 2029, with 60% expected to have mobility limitations and 20% expected to have “high health care and functional needs.”

“We are going to [have] double the number of middle-income seniors when the baby boomers age,” Pearson said. “Fewer of those baby boomers are going to have spouses or children who live nearby to provide unpaid caregiving support.”

Most family caregivers are spouses or middle-age daughters, the study notes.

At the end of the day, Pearson says, many Americans don’t think about aging until it’s staring them in the face.

“People [think] that they will live healthy and independently until they die, and sadly, that’s just statistically very unlikely for most people,” she said.

Tammy, with her parents and brother, says her family thought they were prepared for the future.

Tammy says her family thought they were prepared for the future.

In 1965, Ada married Tammy’s father, Peter “Jazz” La Barbera, an accountant.

“My dad was a very, very good saver, and he did have a little bit of savings,” Tammy said. “He was set just for the future, not for anything unexpected.”

In 1970, Tammy was born in Queens. She and her older brother, Peter Jr., grew up an hour outside New York City.

“We had a small house, and we lived in that house our whole lives, and … we were the perfect family,” Tammy said.

She eventually moved to California, where she had two kids. Her parents followed, along with her brother and his wife.

Tammy says the physical and mental toll of caring for her husband and son kickstarted Ada's health problems.

But soon after the move, Peter Jr. was diagnosed with cancer, and he died a year later. Two years after that, Tammy’s father received a cancer diagnosis and died within seven weeks.

Tammy believes that the physical and financial toll of taking care of her son and husband kickstarted her mother’s health problems. Shortly after her husband died, Ada had a minor stroke and was diagnosed with dementia.

“It’s almost like her grief was so overwhelming. Especially losing her son. I don’t think her brain had the capacity to deal with anything else anymore,” Tammy said.

The stress associated with taking care of a loved one full-time, or even part-time, can have negative consequences, research has shown.

Some of the physical symptoms associated with taking care of someone with dementia include higher levels of depression and anxiety, worse self-reported physical health, compromised immune function and increased risk of early death, the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports.

Over half (53%) of caregivers indicate that a decline in their health compromises their ability to provide care, according to the CDC.

“I have sacrificed 10 years of my life being a caretaker, and I don’t have a life,” Tammy said. “It’s an honor to take care of my mother. But doing this every single day … it’s a lot.”

Tammy is preparing for her own future by taking part in genetic testing that will tell her whether she is more likely to develop dementia like her mother.

“I would like to prepare as much as I can, whether it’s medication or adjusting my life,” she said. “I just don’t want to put my kids through this.”

She would also like to see changes to the system.

Pearson says the solution to the cost issue is not simple and will probably be resolved only through a combination of incremental Medicaid expansion, changes to the senior housing industry and federal subsidies.

AARP’s Reinhard says tax credits for family caregivers could help people like Tammy get a break. Employers could also help by supporting workers who need to stop working to care for a family member or friend.

In September, the US Department of Health and Human Services, through its Administration for Community Living, announced a national strategy aimed at supporting family caregivers, highlighting nearly 350 actions the federal government will take.

The strategy also includes 150 actions that it says local governments, communities and private businesses can adopt to help build a more supportive system.

“Supporting family caregivers is an urgent public health issue, exacerbated by the long-term effects of the COVID-19 pandemic,” HHS Secretary Xavier Becerra said in a news release. “This national strategy recognizes the critical role family caregivers play in a loved one’s life.”

Gal Wettstein, a senior research economist for the Center for Retirement Research at Boston College, says it would be beneficial for middle-income Americans to speak to a financial adviser as early as possible and transfer assets to a family member if they think they might need to enter a long-term care facility in the near future.

This way, if their only option is to spend down their assets to become eligible for Medicaid, they hit that eligibility sooner.

Long-term care insurance is another option, but experts say it’s rarely sold anymore because it is typically more expensive than other kinds of insurance.

Pearson says Americans can plan ahead by investing in long-term care insurance in their 40s for it to benefit them when they will most likely need it, in their 80s.

Wettstein also recommends long-term care insurance.

“[Long-term care insurance] plans are getting harder and harder to sign, but they do still exist. Some insurers will still sell them,” he said.

Ultimately, covering the cost of senior care comes down to families and how much they save for the future, until changes are made by senior housing providers and policy makers.

“We are so far away from having any sort of swift and universal solution,” Pearson said.

For now, Ada is on a waitlist for a spot at a skilled-nursing home about an hour from where they live. If she moves there, her cost of living might be partially covered through a Medicaid program.

Tammy was told that Ada is one of more than 2,000 people waiting for a spot.

“We’re drowning. We’re care workers, and we’re drowning,” Tammy said. “We don’t have help.”

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Clinics and doctors brace for more restrictions on women’s health care after court ruling on abortion drug | CNN



CNN
 — 

Less than a year after the US Supreme Court ended legal protection for abortions nationwide, clinics that provide reproductive health care across the United States are bracing for more restrictions on the care they provide to women.

If a judge’s ruling takes effect Friday, it may soon be illegal for doctors to prescribe mifepristone, the first in a two-drug regimen that can help women terminate a pregnancy at home – and that has other uses.

At Northeast Ohio Women’s Center, staffers are calling patients who expected to get medication abortions next week, telling them to change their plans.

“They’re scrambling to change their schedules to get in to see us earlier,” said Dr. David Burkons, the physician who runs the clinics.

About half of abortions in the US use mifepristone, which is sold under the brand name Mifeprex.

Mifeprex blocks the hormone progesterone, which effectively stops a pregnancy from continuing. For an abortion, women take mifepristone first, followed one or two days later by misoprostol, a drug that causes the uterus to contract, cramp and bleed, similar to a heavy period. It empties out the uterus, ending the pregnancy. It can be used up to 10 weeks of pregnancy.

But the uses of mifepristone go beyond abortion.

The drug helps soften and open the cervix, the neck of the uterus, and doctors depend on it to help when women are having a miscarriage and when a pregnancy needs to be terminated quickly if the life of the mother is at stake.

In certain situations, when a pregnancy has become too risky, time is of the essence, says Dr. Alison Edelman, who directs the division of Complex Family Planning at Oregon Health and Sciences University.

“The more expediently that we can have somebody not be pregnant, the better, and mifepristone helps us speed that process up and make it safer for patients,” she said.

Doctors also use mifepristone before procedures in which they need to go into the uterus, such as to remove bleeding polyps. Studies have shown that the drug helps reduce the amount of force needed to open the cervix and reduces the amount of blood loss associated with the procedure.

Studies also show that mifepristone has moderate to strong benefits for inducing labor and treating uterine fibroids and endometriosis, sometimes helping avoid surgery, according to the American Society of Health Systems Pharmacists.

It can be used to prevent bleeding between periods and to control hyperstimulation of the ovaries during in-vitro fertilization, the society said in a statement.

Doctors say they still have other ways to treat those problems, but when considering the needs of individual patients, they will be missing a valuable tool.

“We have our gold standard of what we provide – the safest, most effective regimen – and then if it’s not available, we use the next best one. And that’s what we would be left with,” Edelman said.

Mifepristone has been approved by the US Food and Drug Administration for 23 years, and it has been used by over 5 million women in the United States. FDA data shows that less than 1% of women who take it have significant adverse events. A CNN analysis of FDA data found that mifepristone was even less risky than some other common medications, including Viagra and penicillin.

Medication abortions have become an increasingly important option for women in states that restricted abortion access after the Supreme Court’s ruling last year that ended legal protections for abortions in every state. They are also sometimes the only kind of abortion many women can get in rural areas that have lost abortion providers.

This ease of access has also made the medication regimen a target for abortion opponents.

“They want to see a national ban, and this is in fact what they are going for in this case,” said Kristen Moore, director of the EMAA Project, a nonprofit that is seeking to make it easier to get abortion medications in the US.

What will happen next is far from settled. Appeals have been filed to stop the ruling in Texas from taking hold, and higher courts will have to weigh in.

Even if the court does take mifepristone off the market in the US, doctors say, they will still be able to provide medication abortions using misoprostol alone.

In fact, some abortion providers have been planning on using misoprostol by itself in case mifepristone is isn’t available.

Carafem, which provides telehealth abortion care, has been offering a misoprostol-only regimen since the Covid-19 pandemic began, Chief Operating Officer Melissa Grant says.

“In 2020, we started to use misoprostol alone as an option,” she said. Workers have since been tweaking the regimen and gathering data.

“We now feel confident that, even though we would much prefer to use both, that we can use misoprostol alone effectively and are ready to switch gears to have a higher percentage of our clients or even 100% of our colleagues use that option if necessary,” Grant said.

Still, some providers said it’s not ideal.

The misoprostol-only regimen is slightly less effective than the one that uses both drugs, and it causes more cramping and bleeding, which can mean more complications.

“We’re more likely to see failures and therefore more likely to need surgical intervention after misoprostol alone,” said Dr. Erika Werner, chair of the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at Tufts Medical Center.

Still, doctors want women to know that medication abortions and miscarriage care will still be available even if mifepristone isn’t. And they hope that higher courts will intervene to keep this medication on pharmacy shelves.

“The clinicians would have to use these other options instead of choosing based on their own expertise, knowledge and judgment when rendering such care,” Dr. Iffath Hoskins, president of the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, said Monday. “Frankly, as a clinician, I do not want to be in that position.”

Correction: This story has been updated to include the correct name of Tufts Medical Center.

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Maternity units are closing across America, forcing expectant mothers to hit the road | CNN



CNN
 — 

In picturesque Bonner County, Idaho, Leandra Wright, 40, is pregnant with her seventh child.

Wright is due in August, but three weeks ago, the hospital where she had planned to deliver, Bonner General Health, announced that it would be suspending its labor and delivery services in May.

Now, she’s facing a potentially precarious drive to another hospital 45 minutes from her home.

“It’s frustrating and worrisome,” Wright said.

Wright has a history of fast labors. Her 15-year-old son, Noah, was born on the way to the hospital.

“My fifth child was born on the side of the highway,” Wright said. “It was wintertime, and my hospital at the time in California was about 40 minutes away, and the roads were icy, so we didn’t make it in time.”

By the time she and Noah got to the hospital, about 15 minutes after he was born, his body temperature was lower than normal.

“It worries me not to have a doctor there and worries me to have to go through that,” Wright said.

Residents of Bonner County aren’t the only ones dealing with unexpected maternity unit closures.

Since 2011, 217 hospitals in the United States have closed their labor and delivery departments, according to a report by the health care consulting firm Chartis.

A CNN tally shows that at least 13 such closures have been announced in the past year alone.

Services provided at maternity units vary from hospital to hospital. Most offer obstetrics care in which an obstetrician will deliver a baby, either vaginally or via cesarean section. These units also provide perinatal care, which is medical and supportive care before and after delivery.

Other services provided may include lactation specialists and private delivery rooms.

After May 19, Bonner General Health will no longer offer obstetrical services, meaning there will be zero obstetricians practicing there. Consequently, the hospital will no longer deliver babies. Additionally, the unit will no longer provide 24-hour anesthesia support or post-resuscitation or pre-transportation stabilization care for critically ill newborns.

Some hospitals that have recently closed their maternity units still offer perinatal care, along with routine gynecological care.

Bonner General is planning to establish a clinic where perinatal care will be offered. Gynecological services – such as surgical services, preventative care, wellness exams and family planning – will still be provided at a nearby women’s health clinic.

The Chartis report says that the states with the highest loss of access to obstetrical care are Minnesota, Texas, Iowa, Kansas and Wisconsin, with each losing more than 10 facilities.

Data released last fall by the infant and maternal health nonprofit March of Dimes also shows that more than 2.2 million women of childbearing age across 1,119 US counties are living in “maternity care deserts,” meaning their counties have no hospitals offering obstetric care, no birth centers and no obstetric providers.

Maternity care deserts have been linked to a lack of adequate prenatal care or treatment for pregnancy complications and even an increased risk of maternal death for a year after giving birth.

Money is one reason why maternity units are being shuttered.

According to the American Hospital Association, 42% of births in the US are paid for by Medicaid, which has low reimbursement rates. Employer-sponsored insurance pays about $15,000 for a delivery, and Medicaid pays about $6,500, according to the Health Care Cost Institute, a nonprofit that analyzes health care cost and utilization data.

“Medicaid funds about half of all births nationally and more than half of births in rural areas,” said Dr. Katy Kozhimannil, a public health researcher at the University of Minnesota who has conducted research on the growing number of maternity care deserts.

Kozhimannil says communities that are most likely to be affected by maternity unit closures tend to be remote towns in rural counties in states with “less generous Medicaid programs.”

Hospitals in larger cities are often able to offset low reimbursement rates from Medicaid births with births covered by employer-sponsored insurance, according to Dr. Sina Haeri, a maternal-fetal medicine specialist and CEO of Ouma Health, a company that provides virtual prenatal and perinatal care to mothers living in maternity care deserts.

Many large hospitals also have neonatal intensive care units.

“If you have a NICU, that’s a substantial revenue generator for a hospital,” Haeri said.

Most rural hospitals do not have a NICU, only a nursery where they care for full-term, healthy babies, he said. Due to that financial burden, it does not make financial sense for many rural hospitals to keep labor and delivery units open.

A low volume of births is another reason for the closures.

In announcing the closure, Bonner General noted that in 2022, it delivered just 265 babies, which the hospital characterized as a significant decrease.

Rural hospital administrators providing obstetric care say it takes at least 200 births annually for a unit to remain safe and financially viable, according to a study led by Kozhimannil for the University of Minnesota’s Rural Health Research Center.

Many administrators surveyed said they are working to keep units open despite low birth rates.

“Of all the folks that we surveyed, about a third of them were still operating, even though they had fewer than 200 births a year,” Kozhimannil said. “We asked why, and they said, ‘because our community needs it.’ ”

Another issue for hospital administrators is staffing and recruitment.

The decision to close Bonner General’s labor and delivery unit was also directly affected by a lack of experienced, qualified doctors and nurses in the state, said Erin Binnall, a Bonner General Health spokesperson.

“After May 19th, Bonner General Health will no longer have reliable, consistent pediatric coverage to manage neonatal resuscitations and perinatal care. Bonner General’s number one priority is patient safety. Not having board-certified providers certified in neonatal resuscitation willing to provide call and be present during deliveries makes it unsafe and unethical for BGH to provide these services,” Binnall told CNN by email.

The American Hospital Association acknowledges the staffing challenges some hospitals face.

“Simply put, if a hospital cannot recruit and retain the providers, nurses, and other appropriately trained caregivers to sustainably support a service then it cannot provide that care,” the association said in a statement. “Such challenges are only magnified in rural America, where workforce strain is compounded by aging demographics that in some communities has dramatically decreased demand for services like Labor and Delivery.”

Wright is considering moving because of the lack of maternity and pediatric care available in Bonner County.

More stringent abortion laws may be playing a role in the closures, too.

Bonner General said in a news release last month that due to Idaho’s “legal and political climate, highly respected, talented physicians are leaving. In addition, the Idaho Legislature continues to introduce and pass bills that criminalize physicians for medical care nationally recognized as the standard of care.”

According to the Guttmacher Institute, Idaho has one of the strictest anti-abortion laws in the country: a complete ban that has only a few exceptions.

Idaho requires an “affirmative defense,” Guttmacher says, meaning a provider “has to prove in court that an abortion met the criteria for a legal exception.”

No matter the reason, Kozhimannil said, closures in rural communities aren’t just a nuisance. They also put families at risk.

“That long drive isn’t just an inconvenience. It actually is associated with health risks,” she said. “The consequence that we saw is an increase in preterm births. Preterm birth is the largest risk factor for infant mortality. It is a huge risk factor for developmental and cognitive delays for kids.”

Haeri says the decline in maternal care also has a clear effect on maternal mortality rates.

The maternal death rate for 2021 – the year for which the most recent data is available – was 32.9 deaths per 100,000 live births in the US, compared with rates of 20.1 in 2019 and 23.8 in 2020, according to a report from the National Center for Health Statistics. In raw numbers, 1,205 women died of maternal causes in the US in 2021.

Conditions such as high blood pressure, obesity, and diabetes may raise a person’s risk of complications, as can being pregnant with multiples, according to the National Institutes of Health. Pregnant women over the age of 35 are at a higher risk of pre-eclampsia.

As labor and delivery units continue to shut their doors, possible solutions to the growing problem are complex, Haeri says.

“I think anyone that comes to you and says the current system is working is lying to you,” he said. “We all know that the current maternity system is not good.”

Kozhimannil’s research has found that many women who live in maternity care deserts are members of minority communities.

“When we conducted that research, we found the communities that were raising the alarm about this … tended to be Black and indigenous, or tribal communities in rural places,” she said. “Black communities in the South and East and tribal communities throughout the country, but especially in the West, Mountain West and Midwest.”

Haeri says one possible solution is at a woman’s fingertips.

“I always say if a woman’s got a cell phone, she should have access,” he said.

A 2021 study found that women who live in remote areas of the US could benefit from telehealth visits, which would decrease the number of “in-person prenatal care visits and increase access to care.”

The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends 12 to 14 prenatal care appointments for women with low-risk pregnancies, and the study suggests that expansion of prenatal telehealth appointments could help women living in remote areas better adhere to those guidelines.

Ouma works with mothers who are typically remote and high-risk, Haeri says.

He also believes that promoting midwifery and doula services would help bolster maternity care in the US.

Certified nurse midwives often assist remote mothers who are high-risk or who decide to give birth at home, he says.

Midwives not only deliver babies, they often work with medical equipment and can administer at-home physical exams, prescribe medications, order lab and diagnostic tests, and assess risk management, according to the American College of Nurse Midwives. Doulas – who guide mothers through the birthing process – are often present at home births and even hospital births.

“That midwifery model shines when it comes to maternal care. [And] doula advocacy involvement leads to better outcomes and maternity care, and I think as a system, we haven’t made it easier for those two components to be really an integral part of our maternity care in the US,” Haeri said.

After living in Idaho for 10 years, Wright says, she and her fiancé have considered leaving the state. The lack of maternity and pediatric care at Bonner General Health is a big reason why.

“I feel safe being with [my] doctors. Now, I have to get to know a doctor within a couple of months before my next baby is born,” Wright said.

As she awaits the arrival of her new son, she feels doubtful that there is a solution for mothers like her.

“Everywhere – no matter what – everybody has babies,” she said. “It’s posing a problem for people who have babies who don’t have the income to drive or have high risk pregnancies or first-time mothers who don’t even know what to expect.”

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Pediatric hospital beds are in high demand for ailing children. Here’s why | CNN



CNN
 — 

Effie Schnacky was wheezy and lethargic instead of being her normal, rambunctious self one February afternoon. When her parents checked her blood oxygen level, it was hovering around 80% – dangerously low for the 7-year-old.

Her mother, Jaimie, rushed Effie, who has asthma, to a local emergency room in Hudson, Wisconsin. She was quickly diagnosed with pneumonia. After a couple of hours on oxygen, steroids and nebulizer treatments with little improvement, a physician told Schnacky that her daughter needed to be transferred to a children’s hospital to receive a higher level of care.

What they didn’t expect was that it would take hours to find a bed for her.

Even though the respiratory surge that overwhelmed doctor’s offices and hospitals last fall is over, some parents like Schnacky are still having trouble getting their children beds in a pediatric hospital or a pediatric unit.

The physical and mental burnout that occurred during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic has not gone away for overworked health care workers. Shortages of doctors and technicians are growing, experts say, but especially in skilled nursing. That, plus a shortage of people to train new nurses and the rising costs of hiring are leaving hospitals with unstaffed pediatric beds.

But a host of reasons building since well before the pandemic are also contributing. Children may be the future, but we aren’t investing in their health care in that way. With Medicaid reimbursing doctors at a lower rate for children, hospitals in tough situations sometimes put adults in those pediatric beds for financial reasons. And since 2019, children with mental health crises are increasingly staying in emergency departments for sometimes weeks to months, filling beds that children with other illnesses may need.

“There might or might not be a bed open right when you need one. I so naively just thought there was plenty,” Schnacky told CNN.

The number of pediatric beds decreasing has been an issue for at least a decade, said Dr. Daniel Rauch, chair of the Committee on Hospital Care for the American Academy of Pediatrics.

By 2018, almost a quarter of children in America had to travel farther for pediatric beds as compared to 2009, according to a 2021 paper in the journal Pediatrics by lead author Dr. Anna Cushing, co-authored by Rauch.

“This was predictable,” said Rauch, who has studied the issue for more than 10 years. “This isn’t shocking to people who’ve been looking at the data of the loss in bed capacity.”

The number of children needing care was shrinking before the Covid-19 pandemic – a credit to improvements in pediatric care. There were about 200,000 fewer pediatric discharges in 2019 than there were in 2017, according to data from the US Department of Health and Human Services.

“In pediatrics, we have been improving the ability we have to take care of kids with chronic conditions, like sickle cell and cystic fibrosis, and we’ve also been preventing previously very common problems like pneumonia and meningitis with vaccination programs,” said Dr. Matthew Davis, the pediatrics department chair at Ann & Robert H. Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago.

Pediatrics is also seasonal, with a typical drop in patients in the summer and a sharp uptick in the winter during respiratory virus season. When the pandemic hit, schools and day cares closed, which slowed the transmission of Covid and other infectious diseases in children, Davis said. Less demand meant there was less need for beds. Hospitals overwhelmed with Covid cases in adults switched pediatric beds to beds for grownups.

As Covid-19 tore through Southern California, small hospitals in rural towns like Apple Valley were overwhelmed, with coronavirus patients crammed into hallways, makeshift ICU beds and even the pediatric ward.

Only 37% of hospitals in the US now offer pediatric services, down from 42% about a decade ago, according to the American Hospital Association.

While pediatric hospital beds exist at facilities in Baltimore, the only pediatric emergency department in Baltimore County is Greater Baltimore Medical Center in Towson, Maryland, according to Dr. Theresa Nguyen, the center’s chair of pediatrics. All the others in the county, which has almost 850,000 residents, closed in recent years, she said.

The nearby MedStar Franklin Square Medical Center consolidated its pediatric ER with the main ER in 2018, citing a 40% drop in pediatric ER visits in five years, MedStar Health told CNN affiliate WBAL.

In the six months leading up to Franklin Square’s pediatric ER closing, GBMC admitted an average of 889 pediatric emergency department patients each month. By the next year, that monthly average jumped by 21 additional patients.

“Now we’re seeing the majority of any pediatric ED patients that would normally go to one of the surrounding community hospitals,” Nguyen said.

In July, Tufts Medical Center in Boston converted its 41 pediatric beds to treat adult ICU and medical/surgical patients, citing the need to care for critically ill adults, the health system said.

In other cases, it’s the hospitals that have only 10 or so pediatric beds that started asking the tough questions, Davis said.

“Those hospitals have said, ‘You know what? We have an average of one patient a day or two patients a day. This doesn’t make sense anymore. We can’t sustain that nursing staff with specialized pediatric training for that. We’re going to close it down,’” Davis said.

Registered nurses at Tufts Medical Center hold a

Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center in Boise closed its pediatric inpatient unit in July because of financial reasons, the center told CNN affiliate KBOI. That closure means patients are now overwhelming nearby St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital, which is the only children’s hospital in the state of Idaho, administrator for St. Luke’s Children’s Katie Schimmelpfennig told CNN. Idaho ranks last for the number of pediatricians per 100,000 children, according to the American Board of Pediatrics in 2023.

The Saint Alphonsus closure came just months before the fall, when RSV, influenza and a cadre of respiratory viruses caused a surge of pediatric patients needing hospital care, with the season starting earlier than normal.

The changing tide of demand engulfed the already dwindling supply of pediatric beds, leaving fewer beds available for children coming in for all the common reasons, like asthma, pneumonia and other ailments. Additional challenges have made it particularly tough to recover.

Another factor chipping away at bed capacity over time: Caring for children pays less than caring for adults. Lower insurance reimbursement rates mean some hospitals can’t afford to keep these beds – especially when care for adults is in demand.

Medicaid, which provides health care coverage to people with limited income, is a big part of the story, according to Joshua Gottlieb, an associate professor at the University of Chicago Harris School of Public Policy.

“Medicaid is an extremely important payer for pediatrics, and it is the least generous payer,” he said. “Medicaid is responsible for insuring a large share of pediatric patients. And then on top of its low payment rates, it is often very cumbersome to deal with.”

Pediatric gastroenterologist Dr. Howard Baron visits with a patient in 2020 in Las Vegas. A large portion of his patients are on Medicaid with reimbursement rates that are far below private insurers.

Medicaid reimburses children’s hospitals an average of 80% of the cost of the care, including supplemental payments, according to the Children’s Hospital Association, a national organization which represents 220 children’s hospitals. The rate is far below what private insurers reimburse.

More than 41 million children are enrolled in Medicaid and the Children’s Health Insurance Program, according to Kaiser Family Foundation data from October. That’s more than half the children in the US, according to Census data.

At Children’s National Hospital in Washington, DC, about 55% of patients use Medicaid, according to Dr. David Wessel, the hospital’s executive vice president.

“Children’s National is higher Medicaid than most other children’s hospitals, but that’s because there’s no safety net hospital other than Children’s National in this town,” said Wessel, who is also the chief medical officer and physician-in-chief.

And it just costs more to care for a child than an adult, Wessel said. Specialty equipment sized for smaller people is often necessary. And a routine test or exam for an adult is approached differently for a child. An adult can lie still for a CT scan or an MRI, but a child may need to be sedated for the same thing. A child life specialist is often there to explain what’s going on and calm the child.

“There’s a whole cadre of services that come into play, most of which are not reimbursed,” he said. “There’s no child life expert that ever sent a bill for seeing a patient.”

Low insurance reimbursement rates also factor into how hospital administrations make financial decisions.

“When insurance pays more, people build more health care facilities, hire more workers and treat more patients,” Gottlieb said.

“Everyone might be squeezed, but it’s not surprising that pediatric hospitals, which face [a] lower, more difficult payment environment in general, are going to find it especially hard.”

Dr. Benson Hsu is a pediatric critical care provider who has served rural South Dakota for more than 10 years. Rural communities face distinct challenges in health care, something he has seen firsthand.

A lot of rural communities don’t have pediatricians, according to the American Board of Pediatrics. It’s family practice doctors who treat children in their own communities, with the goal of keeping them out of the hospital, Hsu said. Getting hospital care often means traveling outside the community.

Hsu’s patients come from parts of Nebraska, Iowa and Minnesota, as well as across South Dakota, he said. It’s a predominantly rural patient base, which also covers those on Native American reservations.

“These kids are traveling 100, 200 miles within their own state to see a subspecialist,” Hsu said, referring to patients coming to hospitals in Sioux Falls. “If we are transferring them out, which we do, they’re looking at travels of 200 to 400 miles to hit Omaha, Minneapolis, Denver.”

Inpatient pediatric beds in rural areas decreased by 26% between 2008 and 2018, while the number of rural pediatric units decreased by 24% during the same time, according to the 2021 paper in Pediatrics.

Steve Inglish, left, and registered nurse Nikole Hoggarth, middle, help a father with his daughter, who fell and required stiches, inside the emergency department at Jamestown Regional Medical Center in rural North Dakota in 2020.

“It’s bad, and it’s getting worse. Those safety net hospitals are the ones that are most at risk for closure,” Rauch said.

In major cities, the idea is that a critically ill child would get the care they need within an hour, something clinicians call the golden hour, said Hsu, who is the critical care section chair at the American Academy of Pediatrics.

“That golden hour doesn’t exist in the rural population,” he said. “It’s the golden five hours because I have to dispatch a plane to land, to drive, to pick up, stabilize, to drive back, to fly back.”

When his patients come from far away, it uproots the whole family, he said. He described families who camp out at a child’s bedside for weeks at a time. Sometimes they are hundreds of miles from home, unlike when a patient is in their own community and parents can take turns at the hospital.

“I have farmers who miss harvest season and that as you can imagine is devastating,” Hsu said. “These aren’t office workers who are taking their computer with them. … These are individuals who have to live and work in their communities.”

Back at GBMC in Maryland, an adolescent patient with depression, suicidal ideation and an eating disorder was in the pediatric emergency department for 79 days, according to Nguyen. For months, no facility had a pediatric psychiatric bed or said it could take someone who needed that level of care, as the patient had a feeding tube.

“My team of physicians, social workers and nurses spend a significant amount of time every day trying to reach out across the state of Maryland, as well as across the country now to find placements for this adolescent,” Nguyen said before the patient was transferred in mid-March. “I need help.”

Nguyen’s patient is just one of the many examples of children and teens with mental health issues who are staying in emergency rooms and sometimes inpatient beds across the country because they need help, but there isn’t immediately a psychiatric bed or a facility that can care for them.

It’s a problem that began before 2020 and grew worse during the pandemic, when the rate of children coming to emergency rooms with mental health issues soared, studies show.

Now, a nationwide shortage of beds exists for children who need mental health help. A 2020 federal survey revealed that the number of residential treatment facilities for children fell 30% from 2012.

“There are children on average waiting for two weeks for placement, sometimes longer,” Nguyen said of the patients at GBMC. The pediatric emergency department there had an average of 42 behavioral health patients each month from July 2021 through December 2022, up 13.5% from the same period in 2017 to 2018, before the pandemic, according to hospital data.

When there are mental health patients staying in the emergency department, that can back up the beds in other parts of the hospital, creating a downstream effect, Hsu said.

“For example, if a child can’t be transferred from a general pediatric bed to a specialized mental health center, this prevents a pediatric ICU patient from transferring to the general bed, which prevents an [emergency department] from admitting a child to the ICU. Health care is often interconnected in this fashion,” Hsu said.

“If we don’t address the surging pediatric mental health crisis, it will directly impact how we can care for other pediatric illnesses in the community.”

Dr. Susan Wu, right, chats with a child who got her first dose of the Pfizer-BioNtech Covid-19 vaccine at Children's Hospital Arcadia Speciality Care Center in Arcadia, California, in 2022.

So, what can be done to improve access to pediatric care? Much like the reasons behind the difficulties parents and caregivers are experiencing, the solutions are complex:

  • A lot of it comes down to money

Funding for children’s hospitals is already tight, Rauch said, and more money is needed not only to make up for low insurance reimbursement rates but to competitively hire and train new staff and to keep hospitals running.

“People are going to have to decide it’s worth investing in kids,” Rauch said. “We’re going to have to pay so that hospitals don’t lose money on it and we’re going to have to pay to have staff.”

Virtual visits, used in the right situations, could ease some of the problems straining the pediatric system, Rauch said. Extending the reach of providers would prevent transferring a child outside of their community when there isn’t the provider with the right expertise locally.

  • Increased access to children’s mental health services

With the ongoing mental health crisis, there’s more work to be done upstream, said Amy Wimpey Knight, the president of CHA.

“How do we work with our school partners in the community to make sure that we’re not creating this crisis and that we’re heading it off up there?” she said.

There’s also a greater need for services within children’s hospitals, which are seeing an increase in children being admitted with behavioral health needs.

“If you take a look at the reasons why kids are hospitalized, meaning infections, diabetes, seizures and mental health concerns, over the last decade or so, only one of those categories has been increasing – and that is mental health,” Davis said. “At the same time, we haven’t seen an increase in the number of mental health hospital resources dedicated to children and adolescents in a way that meets the increasing need.”

Most experts CNN spoke to agreed: Seek care for your child early.

“Whoever is in your community is doing everything possible to get the care that your child needs,” Hsu said. “Reach out to us. We will figure out a way around the constraints around the system. Our number one concern is taking care of your kids, and we will do everything possible.”

Nguyen from GBMC and Schimmelpfennig from St. Luke’s agreed with contacting your primary care doctor and trying to keep your child out of the emergency room.

“Anything they can do to stay out of the hospital or the emergency room is both financially better for them and better for their family,” Schimmelpfennig said.

Knowing which emergency room or urgent care center is staffed by pediatricians is also imperative, Rauch said. Most children visit a non-pediatric ER due to availability.

“A parent with a child should know where they’re going to take their kid in an emergency. That’s not something you decide when your child has the emergency,” he said.

Jaimie and Effie Schnacky now have an asthma action plan after the 7-year-old's hospitalization in February.

After Effie’s first ambulance ride and hospitalization last month, the Schnacky family received an asthma action plan from the pulmonologist in the ER.

It breaks down the symptoms into green, yellow and red zones with ways Effie can describe how she’s feeling and the next steps for adults. The family added more supplies to their toolkit, like a daily steroid inhaler and a rescue inhaler.

“We have everything an ER can give her, besides for an oxygen tank, at home,” Schnacky said. “The hope is that we are preventing even needing medical care.”

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