Caveat Scholasticus

Note: The Bioethics Program blog will be moving to its new home on April 1, 2015. Be sure to change your bookmarks to http://bioethics.uniongraduatecollege.edu/blog/

 

by Sean Philpott-Jones, Director of the Center for Bioethics and Clinical Leadership

Economists talk a lot about scarcity. Scarcity occurs when we have fewer resources than are necessary to fill our basic needs and wants. Price is usually a good indicator of scarcity. Despite the recent short-term glut of oil, for instance, increasing demand and decreasing supplies of fossil fuels means that gasoline prices will inevitably rise in the coming years.

Ethicists like myself also talk about scarcity. Medical resources are often in short supply and must be rationed. The limited number of beds in the intensive care unit means that doctors must sometimes make difficult choices about which critically ill patients are admitted to the ICU and which are not. Vaccines may also be rationed. In the event of a serious flu epidemic, for example, the New York State Department of Health has a four-tiered vacccine allocation system, with critically needed staff such as doctors, nurses, police and firefighters given priority over grocery clerks, plumbers, mechanics, and stay-at-home dads. But one thing we never thought would be an increasingly scarce resource, at least in the medical setting, was privacy.

Everyone is increasingly concerned about privacy today, and rightfully so. In a progressively wired and interconnected age, there is little about a person that isn’t public knowledge. In fact, despite all our protestations, we as individuals are largely responsible for this loss of personal privacy.

We give up our personal privacy in a myriad of seemingly innocuous ways: posting status updates on Facebook and Twitter, writing blog articles, and uploading pictures to Instagram. Everything we say or do online leaves behind a trail of personal information that can be used by public agencies and private businesses to track us, watch us, and selectively market goods and services to us.

This is true even when it comes to our personal health. As mentioned before, much of this is our own doing. We comment about our various aches and pains online, use databases like WebMD to self-diagnose and self-treat minor illnesses and injuries, and purchase over-the-counter and prescription drugs using our CVS ExtraCare card. But one thing that we would never expect is that our conversations with our physicians and psychotherapists could also become public knowledge.

If anything, maintaining patient privacy and confidentiality is one of the key ethical obligations placed upon physicians. It is an obligation that has its roots in two millennia of Hippocratic practice, and it is the foundation of the doctor-patient relationship. Patients must feel that they can share all sorts of personal information with their physician, no matter how embarrassing or stigmatizing. This information is often necessary to ensure proper diagnosis, testing and treatment.

A sixteen-year-old girl who is experiencing pain when urinating, for example, may simply have a urinary tract infection. But she may also have a more serious condition like chlamydia, gonorrhea or some other sexually transmitted infection. If she is not willing to share the fact that she is sexually active, perhaps out of fear that her parents will find out, her doctor may inaccurately diagnose and treat her.

Maintaining patient privacy and confidentiality is so important that it has been put into practice and codified into law. Following a groundbreaking observation study of what doctors, nurses and medical students shared with each other in public elevators (spoiler alert: they shared way too much), many hospitals instituted strict policies about what can and cannot be said about patients in public settings. Anyone who has been to a hospital in recent years has undoubtedly seen the signs in the hallways and elevators reminding staff of this fact. Hospital staff can reprimanded and even fired for breaching confidentiality, as happened at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center after six employees inappropriately accessed the medical records of reality television star Kim Kardashian.

State and federal laws restrict the types of information that can be shared about patients. One key federal law, the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), places strict limits on who can access or share your medical records or your health insurance and billing information. Doctors, hospitals, and insurance companies bound by HIPAA regulations can face severe civil and criminal penalties for violating this law, including fines of $1.5 million and prison sentences of up to ten years.

Unfortunately, this privacy law is rife with loopholes. HIPAA only applies to so-called ‘covered entities,’ such as health providers and health insurance companies. It does not apply to others who may have private health information, such as life insurance companies, employers, workman’s compensation programs, law enforcement agencies, or schools. This is a significant problem, as highlighted by a recent case involving a student at the University of Oregon.

That student was allegedly raped by three University of Oregon basketball players. In a Title IX lawsuit filed against the school, she claims that the school deliberately delayed its investigation so that the men could play in an important NCAA tournament.

So what does this case have to do with medical privacy? The University is using the student’s own medical records to defend itself in court. Because the student sought clinical treatment and psychological counseling at the University health clinic, her medical record belongs to the school. A federal law known as the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act (FERPA), ironically meant to the protect the privacy of a student’s educational records, exempts campus medical records from HIPAA’s privacy rules.

Sadly, as morally repugnant as this is, the University is well within its legal rights to do this. Until laws like HIPAA and FERPA are amended to close these loopholes, we all should be more than a little wary. Students, for example, may wish to seek off-campus counseling or treatment in order to protect the privacy of their records, even if this means that they or their families may be forced to shoulder the cost. Meanwhile, the rest of us should be a little more diligent about the types of medical information we share with agencies and organizations not covered by HIPAA, and to pause for a moment before we complain about our neck aches and back pains on social media.

[This blog entry was originally presented as an oral commentary on Northeast Public Radio on March 12, 2015, and is available on the WAMC website. The contents of this post are solely the responsibility of the author alone and do not represent the views of the Bioethics Program or Union Graduate College.]

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Understanding the Latino Patient with Cancer

by Beatriz Lorena Hurtado, Bioethics Program Alumna (MSBioethics 2014)

As a Latina working in healthcare I have always felt the responsibility to provide education about my culture, and to clarify cultural differences and misconceptions. It is always surprising to witness how eliminating misconceptions eventually translates into an increase in patient satisfaction, and less apprehension about cultural differences from the healthcare team. This is one of the reasons why, in my view, education on Cultural Competence in healthcare is probably the most appropriate way to avoid generalizations and achieve equality in healthcare.

Latinos currently constitute seventeen percent (17%) of the nation’s population, making them the largest racial and ethnic minority in the US. They are also amongst the fastest growing minorities the United States. Should current demographic trends continue, it is estimated there will be 41 million Latinos in the United States by 2020.

These numbers should not only indicate the rising presence of Latinos in the United States, but also highlight the need for developing pathways to improve language and cultural services in the healthcare arena.

This need is particularly in oncology: as the American Cancer Society notes, cancer is the second leading cause of death for Latinos. It is also important to add that the most common cancer diagnosis in Latino women is breast cancer, while prostate cancer is the most common diagnosis in Latino men (with colon, lung, melanoma, stomach, and liver cancer following closely behind).Therefore, as it happens with any chronic disease, the medical visits are usually recurrent and the treatments involve an extensive group of healthcare professionals.

As a Latina I believe there are three important characteristics of Latino cultural expressions, meanings, and value systems that warrant specific attention:

First, family is the foundation that supports life for Latinos in general. Medical decisions are in most cases a family affair. The presence of family signifies emotional support, empathy, and togetherness, and is always favored in a difficult medical situation. Moreover, if facing a difficult moment or vulnerability, like a cancer diagnosis, family support is at the top of the list of necessities of the Latino patient. Latinos place much of their identity and self-worth into the family structure and customs.

Although it is recognized that the Latin American family has undergone changes in its structure in recent decades, it is important to note that these changes haven’t shifted the sense of group, affective value, and financial support in the immigrant family. Latinos are gregarious, often moving in culturally-defined groups. They also identify themselves within their group and by the role they play in it. Failing to recognize the place family has in medical decisions for Latino patients could be viewed as a lack of acknowledgement of who they are as persons, and their position in the micro universe that is their family life.

Second, in the Latino culture, talking about death is commonly viewed as summoning it. Acknowledging death can be seen as giving up hope, limiting a patient’s chances of surviving and a threat to their recovery. This has obvious implications for conversations about death, end-of-life issues, living wills and advance directives. Also, because of the substantial Catholic background and deep religious roots, most Latinos believe that talking about the possibility of a negative outcome is an expression of limited faith in God. It can symbolize doubt on God’s abilities to heal the sick.

Third, even though Latinos share many characteristics, they are also a very diverse group. They are united in their diversity. For instance, a Latino patient from South America may have a specific cultural response towards the healthcare team (e.g., a more entitled behavior) that may be very different from the cultural response of a Latino patient from Central America (e.g. a more humble and unassuming attitude).

Despite all the similarities that unite Latinos (language, religion, family union, etc.), there are several particular cultural conventions that vary depending on the country from where the person comes. Identifying that the patient may speak Spanish or may come from Latin America represents merely the basic steps in beginning a successful communication, but it does not contribute significantly towards building a strong a fruitful rapport with a Latino patient. To achieve this, establishing a conversation free of narrowly defined cultural assumptions is crucial. Even though Latinos share many characteristics, like the general value placed on family and the inclination to avoid discussions of death, there is a rich diversity of Latino cultures and healthcare providers must make it a point to avoid generalizations.

In the context of the Latino culture, to achieve a culturally competent treatment is to understand their culture and demonstrate respect for their differentiating traits while they are in treatment. This means providing care that recognizes and caters to those cultural differences. By acknowledging their gregarious behavior towards family and group, by attributing their reluctance to plan for the worse to their unceasing hope in their interpretation of death and dying, and by respecting the differences among these common traits, the healthcare team can provide culturally competent care. In turn, this will help the patient feel acknowledged and less intimidated by the medical environment, resulting in a more effective relationship, better care, and better outcomes.

[The contents of this post are solely the responsibility of the author alone and do not represent the views of the Bioethics Program or Union Graduate College.]

When Doctors Discriminate

by Sean Philpott-Jones, Director of the Center for Bioethics and Clinical Leadership

Most of you have probably never heard of Jami and Krista Contreras, a Michigan couple and the proud parents of a six-month-old girl named Bay. Shortly after Bay was born, the Contrerases began interviewing pediatricians, looking for one who practiced holistic medicine.

After meeting with nearly a dozen doctors, the newly married couple finally settled on Dr. Vesna Roi, a pediatrician in private practice with nearly 19 years of experience caring for children like Bay. On the morning of their first appointment, however, Dr. Roi refused to see them. The reason: the Contrerases are a same-sex couple.

In a handwritten letter delivered to Jami and Krista by another doctor at the pediatric clinic, Dr. Roi apologized but stated that, “after much prayer following your prenatal [visit], I felt that I would not be able to develop the personal patient doctor relationship that I normally do with my patients.” Dr. Roi’s religious faith, it seems, makes her uncomfortable around lesbian couples.

I actually have some sympathy for Dr. Roi. She clearly felt that she could not give the Contrerases, or their daughter Bay, the level of care that they deserved. In fact, a strong doctor-patient relationship is the key to quality health care. If Dr. Roi felt uncomfortable around Jami and Krista, or felt uncomfortable in asking them questions about those aspects of their personal lives that could affect the health of their daughter, she might overlook pieces of information that were important for Bay’s preventative care or therapeutic treatment. The Contrerases might also pick up (consciously or subconsciously) on Dr. Roi’s unease, and be less than forthcoming about their concerns or opinions. Given this, Dr. Roi was not the right pediatrician for Bay.

Vesna Roi also had the right to refuse the Contrerases as patients. For the most part, doctors are legally bound to treat patients only once they have entered into a care relationship. Even then the doctor can terminate the physician-patient relationship under certain circumstances (if, for example, a patient is non-compliant with treatment, the patient is abusive to providers, or the services sought are not covered by the patient’s health insurance). But the physician must provide a reason for terminating the relationship and must ensure continuity of care.

Ethically, Dr. Roi is on shakier ground. If she felt that she could not establish the necessary doctor-patient relationship with the Contrerases, she probably shouldn’t take them on as patients. But Dr. Roi should have been upfront with the Contrerases sooner, rather than waiting until the morning of Bay’s first pediatric appointment to inform them of her reluctance.

Moreover, while the American Medical Association (AMA) and other professional organizations recognize the right of clinicians to refuse to provide specific treatments if they are incompatible with a doctor’s personal, religious or moral beliefs, it’s hard to see how such “conscience clauses” apply in this case. Conscience clauses are meant to apply to specific medical procedures, most notably abortion and sterilization, rather than to specific classes of patients. If we allow a physician like Dr. Roi to reject patients on the basis of sexual orientation (whatever her personal, religious or moral reason), should we also allow a doctor to turn away patients who are Black or Latino? To turn away patients who are Muslim, Jewish or Atheist? To turn away patients who are women?

Of course we would never allow this. It is morally reprehensible. This is why the AMA, the American Academy of Pediatrics and other professional organizations that respect the conscience of physicians also make it clear that doctors should not refuse care based on race, gender or sexual orientation.

It would also be illegal to refuse a patient based on race, religion or gender under the federal Civil Rights Act of 1964. Sadly, this is not the case for sexual orientation or gender identity. Lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT) individuals are not protected by the Civil Rights Act, but rather by a patchwork of state laws and local anti-discrimination ordinances.

Only twenty-two states have laws that prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation in “public accommodation” (e.g. businesses that serve the public, including pediatric clinics like Dr. Roi’s). Only fourteen states extend those same protections to gender identity. Michigan is not one of those states, so that what Dr. Roi did is morally questionable but it is not legally actionable. Had she lived here in New York, she could have been sued (unless one of the Contrerases had been transgendered, since the Empire State still allows discrimination based on gender identity).

We need these laws, both at the state and the federal level. Sure, people like Dr. Roi may be uncomfortable in dealing with lesbian patients or gay clients. But that’s not a reason to legally allow or publicly condone discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity.

The same arguments were used for years to justify discrimination against women, Black and Jews, until the Civil Rights Act forced people to challenge their biases and question their assumptions. It’s time to do the same for the LGBT community.

As I said before, Dr. Roi was not the right pediatrician for Bay. But she could be, once she learns to look beyond her personal prejudices and see the Contrerases for who they are: human beings with the same needs, fears, and hopes as her. But it might take a legal nudge to get Dr. Roi and others like her to take that first step.

[This blog entry was originally presented as an oral commentary on Northeast Public Radio on February 26, 2015, and is available on the WAMC website. The contents of this post are solely the responsibility of the author alone and do not represent the views of the Bioethics Program or Union Graduate College.]

The Man Who Mistook His Life For A Hat

by Jacob Dahlke, Bioethics Program Alum (MSBioethics 2012)

Our society tends to put on pedestals the celebrities among us, particular upon their deaths. For author Oliver Sacks, it is no different except that he is not yet dead. He did, however, recently announce in the New York Times that metastasized tumors were found in his body. His diagnosis is terminal in the near future. There is an ease and confidence with which he declares, “It is up to me now to choose how to live out the months that remain to me”. These are not the words of a man who plans to rage against the dying of the light, he simply plans to confront (as Hume did) the difficulty “to be more detached from life than I am at present.”

We could certainly expect – from his own energetic accounts – Dr. Sacks to plunge aggressively into treatment. He describes himself in the NY Times piece with powerful, vivid words, a “man of vehement disposition, with violent enthusiasms, and extreme immoderation in all (his) passions.” One might presume that such a person, when faced with the prospect of a terminal illness such as Dr. Sacks’, he would opt for Thomas’ strategy. And yet, when given the opportunity to consider his path, he has chosen differently. Dr. Sacks decided to forgo aggressive treatments – choosing the quality of his life over its quantity. His path is not the one less traveled, but rather one recently reflected in the perspectives of healthcare providers and patient alike.

What is so striking about Dr. Sacks’ writing, then, is how he elucidates the transition from a life with one set of goals and purposes to another set, with goals and purposes all their own. People outside the shadow of a terminal illness may see this transition as a loss of will to live out their remaining days – hence the outcry over such stories as Brittany Maynard, or of the recent news in Canada about assisted suicide. But Dr. Sacks cut through such presumptions with surgical precision: “This is not indifference but detachment.” It is not a loss of the will to live, but instead a loss of the will to live as before. It’s not that issues like global warming are no longer important; they’re just not important to him individually anymore.

It is as though Dr. Sacks’ life as a public figure is a sort of hat. Something worn, but not entirely revealing. And now that he is nearing home, his hat has become less useful. It is, perhaps, time to take his hat off.

I am not sure we will hear much more, if anything, from Dr. Sacks from now until his death in the coming months. He decided to focus on those close in his life, and that is certainly to be respected and praised. But Oliver Sacks’ potential withdrawal from the public sphere is a loss for our society as a whole. It remains difficult to translate the thinking about end of life decisions well, and his experience and skill, his work does that with such clarity.

His accomplishments are many, but for health care professionals whose patients approach death’s door, this short piece will be perhaps the most useful. These health care professionals themselves wear many hats, and, increasingly, one of these pushes patients, families, and the public to confront what it means for their light to fade. Of course, they may choose to fight to the very end. But the brutal honesty of Olivers Sacks’ reflections opens a space for these patients to say (and for their families to hear) that they, like Dr. Sacks, have decided not to rage. Instead, they have chosen to look back and say: “Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.”

[The contents of this post are solely the responsibility of the author alone and do not represent the views of the Bioethics Program or Union Graduate College.]

The Carter v. Canada Conundrum: Next Steps for Implementing Physician Aid-in-Dying in Canada

by Sally Bean and Maxwell Smith (Bioethics Program Alum, 2010)

We applaud the February 6, 2015 Supreme Court of Canada’s (SCC) unanimous ruling in Carter v. Canada (Attorney General), 2015 SCC 5. The Court found the criminal prohibition of assisted death to be in violation of section 7 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, which guarantees the right to life, liberty and security of the person. The ruling has been suspended for 12 months to enable time for a Parliamentary response. In the wake of this landmark ruling, we identify and briefly discuss three issues that require serious attention prior to the implementation of Physician Aid-in-Dying (PAD) in Canada.

The legal prohibition on assisted dying in Canada dates back 22 years to the SCC’s 1993 ruling in Rodriguez v. British Columbia (Attorney General). In a 5-4 decision, the majority of the Court held that, although prohibiting aiding and abetting a person in committing suicide (section 241(b) of the Criminal Code) did deprive a patient (Rodriguez) of her security of person under section 7 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, this violation was justifiable because the infringement was in accordance with “the principles of fundamental justice.”

Reflecting a changing legal and moral landscape, the Carter v. Canada SCC ruling again addressed Criminal Code section 241(b), in addition to section 14 (prohibiting persons from consenting to death being inflicted on them). Specifically, the ruling held that these sections of the Criminal Code are void if they prohibit PAD for a competent adult who “(1) clearly consents to the termination of life and (2) has a grievous and irremediable medical condition (including an illness, disease, or disability) that causes enduring physical or psychological suffering that is intolerable to the individual in the circumstances of his or her condition.”

Competent Adults

The SCC Carter ruling will now require subsequent legislation or regulations to delineate who counts as a competent adult. Like most jurisdictions that permit PAD, the ruling limited it to competent adults. Importantly, this may preclude patients suffering from advanced dementia or other diseases that render a person incapable of making their own treatment decisions. The legal standing of an advance directive authorizing PAD, made while an individual possesses decision-making capacity, remains to be seen and warrants further consideration.

Some Canadian jurisdictions, such as Ontario, do not have a legal age of consent for healthcare treatment decisions. Rather, under Ontario’s Health Care Consent Act, decision-making capacity is based on an individual’s ability to both understand the relevant information and appreciate the reasonably foreseeable consequences of the decision. Therefore, in jurisdictions without an age of consent for treatment, the Carter ruling could potentially require clarification if a determination of being an “adult” is based on the legal age of majority as determined by each province or territory (and is either 18 or 19 years of age across Canada), or if it is based on a capacity to make treatment decisions.

PAD Application beyond Terminally Ill Patients

The SCC left open the possibility that PAD should not be confined only to the terminally ill but also “persons with a grievous and irremediable medical condition that causes enduring physical or psychological suffering.” As Sean Philpott-Jones notes, “[b]y including references to disability and psychological suffering, the Court potentially opened the doors not only to those with terminal illnesses, but also those with chronic but not life threatening illness or disabilities, as well as those suffering from mental illness.” Further thought will have to be given to how we determine that a person’s condition is in fact “grievous and irremediable.” For example, will someone with treatment resistant depression be required to have attempted all reasonable treatment options, regardless of associated side effects?

Physician Conscientious Objection

The ruling also broaches the issue of which physicians will provide PAD. Just one month before the ruling, a member survey by the Canadian Society of Palliative Care Physicians found that 74% of its members reported they would not provide PAD. Similarly, a member survey conducted by the Canadian Medical Association indicated that more than one-quarter would be willing to provide PAD. Jurisdictions with PAD legislation, such as Oregon’s Death with Dignity Act, recognize that physicians have the ability to conscientiously object to participating in PAD. As a harbinger to the Carter ruling, in August 2014, the Canadian Medical Association softened its stance on PAD and in a released statement noted that the CMA “supports the right of all physicians, within the bounds of existing legislation, to follow their conscience when deciding to provide medical aid in dying.” Before PAD is implemented in Canada the issue of who will provide assistance in dying must be addressed at the very least to avoid inequities in access.

Now that the ruling has been handed down, the more difficult task of defining the legal and ethical parameters of who can consent to PAD and what obligations physicians have to honor such requests must begin.

[The contents of this post are solely the responsibility of the author alone and do not represent the views of the Bioethics Program or Union Graduate College.]

The Importance of History for Bioethics: It is What it Was

by Barry Shuster, Bioethics Program Alum (2013)

At a holiday social gathering last year, I sat with a former colleague, a physician, who inquired about my progress in bioethics. While he finds bioethics interesting and occasionally useful, he broached the familiar refrain: “It’s all relative”.

“We say this is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ based on someone’s philosophy,” he said. “But there are always other perspectives. The Nazis thought what they were doing was ethical.”

My friend paused to take bite of his sandwich, and looked across the table, waiting for a response. I’m Jewish, so the comment was particularly provocative. If I’ve learned anything from being a lawyer and parenting teenagers, however, it is how not to flinch when provoked. I encouraged him to continue.

“The problem with bioethics is there are no clear standards,” he said. “There is no bar exam for bioethics. Ultimately, doesn’t the ‘who’s right or wrong’ question really get down to who won?

He raised an important question that challenges the validity of bioethics as a discipline, let alone a profession. That is, who is to say whose approach and philosophies are more valid?

I believe most reasonable people appreciate that bioethics – like the humanities, philosophy, and even social sciences – is not physics, whose theories can be explained with mathematical precision and repeated in a controlled setting. Yet bioethics aspires to provide firm moral guidance on matters of life and death.

When I try to explain medical ethics and its moral foundations, I follow the approach of Dr. Robert Baker, Director Emeritus of the Bioethics Program, and trace its historical roots from the Hippocratic tradition. This approach affirms that bioethics is not as much a fixed set of principles and rules, as it is a continually unfolding story of collective response to events. This approach has helped me many times.

In my participation on hospital ethics committees and IRBs, when encountering situations that lack clear guidance, I have noted that those who make the strongest cases often tell stories based on first- or second-hand experience, rather than recite principals and rules.

Once upon a time there was a situation. This approach was taken. These principals were applied. And they lived happily ever after – or not.

And when I find that my own collection of stories fail to provide direction, I tend to lean on history lessons to find my way. I recall a case of a severely disabled infant with a discouraging prognosis. The family wanted to take him home and care for him there. The team wondered if allowing the ventilator-dependent child to go home was ethical. One member of the team – a father of young healthy children – questioned the use of resources and the stress on the family. He wondered aloud if this was a “life worth living.”

Contemplating his provocative comments, I remember thinking back to the concept of “ballastexistenzen” and a case of Baby Doe.

You might also recall that ballastexistenz is a German term, which was used by the Nazis to describe “dead weight existences”, including individuals with psychological and intellectual disabilities, and extended to any group that did not reflect Arian ideals. Considered burdens to society, they were systematically “euthanized”.

In 1982, Baby Doe was born with Down’s syndrome and a correctable tracheoesophageal fistula. The doctor advised that baby’s life was not worth living and it was in the best interest of family to let the child die of starvation and dehydration. The parents agreed. C. Everett Koop, Surgeon General at the time, took efforts to educate Congress about this issue, which ultimately led to the Baby Doe Amendment that extended the laws defining child abuse to include the withholding of fluids, food, and medically indicated treatment from disabled children

My recollection of these events provided a foundation for my reasoning. And they can guide our reasoning going forward. The concept of ballastexistenz prompts us to continue exploring what it means to be “burdensome” in a 21st -century Western medical setting. Baby Doe reminds us to ask, analyze, and discuss what we mean when we say “quality of life”.

Last fall, I taught a graduate-level course titled “Ethical and Legal Issues in Health Care”. As the semester drew to an end, I came across a news item about a prominent cancer doctor in Michigan who admitted in court to intentionally and wrongfully diagnosing healthy people with cancer . He also admitted to giving them chemotherapy drugs for the purpose of making a profit.

My students included clinicians, hospital executives, and other professionals who were pursuing an MBA with a concentration in healthcare administration. They had spent weeks with me reviewing ethical concepts and codes; and legal theories, cases, regulations, and statutes. In the context of the news item on this doctor, they were versed in the laws of informed consent, common-law battery as applied to health care, statutes proscribing health care and insurance fraud, etc. In the first week of the course, I had also presented a lecture and materials on the historical evolution of medical ethics.

When I presented this case to the class, I was delighted when some of them started the discussion in the 5th century BCE. They reasoned the doctor had only to follow the original Hippocratic Oath, the origin of the trust modern physicians enjoy today, and which introduced the concept of nonmaleficence, one of the four pillars of principlism.

I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous. I will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such counsel …

It wasn’t a question of informed consent versus paternalism, or of the revenue streams that run through medical practice. If the Michigan doctor had faithfully followed the Hippocratic principles, he would have spared his patients misery, spared him society’s condemnation, and spared harm to society’s trust of physicians.

[The contents of this post are solely the responsibility of the author alone and do not represent the views of the Bioethics Program or Union Graduate College.]

How to Die in Canada

by Sean Philpott-Jones, Director of the Center for Bioethics and Clinical Leadership

Last week, our neighbors to the north took a huge step towards legalizing physician aid-in-dying. On Friday, the Supreme Court of Canada unanimously struck down that country’s ban on the practice, suspending two sections of the Criminal Code that outlawed assisted suicide and euthanasia, and ordering the Canadian Parliament and the various provincial legislatures to draft new legislation that would allow physician aid-in-dying.

This is not the first time that Canada has dipped it toe into these treacherous waters. Earlier this year, the Canadian province of Quebec passed Bill 52, also known as ‘An Act Respecting End-of-Life Care’. That Act, which would have taken effect in December, would grant terminally ill Quebecers the right to request a physician’s aid in dying.

In order to qualify for medical assistance in ending their lives, however, these patients must have “an incurable illness that is causing unbearable suffering”. They would have to be in constant and unbearable pain that doctors couldn’t relieve with treatment. The request for aid-in-dying would also have to be made in writing, witnessed by the attending physician, and approved though consultation with a medical team after two doctors determine that the patient is competent to make this request.

The Supreme Court ruling went much further than what Quebec’s law would allow. The nine Canadian justices ruled that physician-assisted suicide should be made available to any competent adult who “clearly consents to the termination of life and has a grievous and irremediable medical condition (including an illness, disease or disability) that causes enduring suffering that is intolerable to the individual in the circumstances of his or her condition.”

By including references to disability and psychological suffering, the Court potentially opened the doors not only to those with terminal illnesses, but also those with chronic but not life threatening illness or disabilities, as well as those suffering from mental illness.

It is unclear how Canadian legislators and medical professionals will respond to this ruling, but they will face a number of challenges in devising an aid-in-dying process that will allow seriously ill patients to end their lives peacefully while still protecting their rights and safety.

But this is a Canadian problem, right?. Why should we care what is happening in the Great White North? Rulings by that country’s Supreme Court have no bearing on US law. Moreover, any aid-in-dying process that our neighbors create is likely to be limited to the citizens and residents of Canada, preventing so-called ‘euthanasia tourism’.

But we should care about what’s happening in Canada because the aid-in-dying movement is also becoming an increasingly powerful voice in US medical practice (particularly following the death of Brittany Maynard, the terminally ill 29-year-old who spoke publicly about moving from California to Oregon in order to legally end her life). American policymakers and physicians can learn a lot from watching the Canadian experiment.

Currently, only five states allow physician aid-in-dying: Montana, New Mexico, Oregon, Vermont, and Washington. In three of those states, laws allowing terminally ill patients to request a doctor’s assistance in ending their own lives were passed by popular referendum or legislative votes. Similar legislative bills or public referendums have been proposed in other states, and popular support for physician aid-in-dying is increasing.

Just last November, for instance, Massachusetts’ voters narrowly defeated a referendum called Question 2 that would have legalized physician aid-in-dying in that state. That narrow 51-49 loss occurred only after well funded and politically savvy opponents were able to reframe discussion about the referendum. The public debate about Question 2 became less about the rights of the terminally ill and more about potential abuses of the disabled and the elderly. But recent polls suggest that nearly two-thirds of voters in the Bay State now support physician aid-in-dying, and a new bill to legalize the practice is currently winding its way through the Massachusetts legislature.

Those of us who live in the Empire State may never get a chance to vote on physician aid-in-dying as New York does not have a popular initiative and referendum process. Efforts have been made to introduce aid-in-dying bills in the state legislature, but these bills face an uphill battle due to strong opposition by religious groups, disability advocates and conservative lawmakers. But this doesn’t mean that physician-assisted suicide won’t soon be legal in New York.

As with Montana and New Mexico, physician aid-in-dying may become legal in New York via court ruling. Just last week, a group of terminally ill patients and clinicians filed a lawsuit asking the New York Supreme Court to invalidate the state’s current prohibition on assisted-suicide.

Currently, a doctor who prescribes a fatal dose of medication to a terminally ill patient can be prosecuted for manslaughter under New York’s Assisted Suicide Statute, which makes it a crime to “intentionally cause or aid another person to commit suicide.” To date, no doctor has ever been prosecuted under this statute. Despite this, the plaintiffs argue that current assisted suicide laws violate the equal protection clause of the State Constitution. For example, physicians are already help some terminally ill patients die (by removing life support) but they cannot help patients who do not rely on continuous medical intervention to live.

Whether or not the New York Supreme Court will rule for the plaintiffs in this case remains to be seen, but the tide of public opinion is clearly shifting in favor of physician aid-in-dying. Physician aid-in-dying may not become the law of the land in New York anytime soon (be it by legislative action or judicial fiat), we need to start talking about it.

No matter which side of the debate you are on — either for or against physician aid-in-dying — we need to have a thoughtful and respectful discussion about dying, about the rights of the terminally ill, and about the role that physicians should play in helping patients attain a peaceful death. And we should watch the Canadian experiment carefully (and the experience of Montana, New Mexico, Oregon, Vermont, and Washington), and learn from their success and mistakes.

[This blog entry was originally presented as an oral commentary on Northeast Public Radio on February 12, 2015, and is available on the WAMC website. The contents of this post are solely the responsibility of the author alone and do not represent the views of the Bioethics Program or Union Graduate College.]