Our Own Devices

"More Love Hours Than Can Ever Be Repaid" & "The Wages of Sin"

Health care finance is always going to be a contentious topic. Two recent stories about devices in health care show the unexpected ways in which technological innovation can generate new burdens, worries, and ethical dilemmas for patients and their families.

Katy Butler authored a heart-rending account of her father’s decline (and her mother’s near-exhaustion as a caregiver) in the NYT last week. Her father’s stroke changed both his and Butler’s mother’s lives:

The day before [the stroke], my mother was an upper-middle-class housewife who practiced calligraphy in her spare time. Afterward, she was one of tens of millions of people in America, most of them women, who help care for an older family member.

The story of what happens next is long and complex, but for health policy makers the nub comes down to a decision the family must make about whether to implant a permanent pacemaker when her father needs surgery to repair a hernia:

[T]he cardiologist, John Rogan, refused to clear my dad for surgery unless he received a pacemaker. . ..  The decision fell to my mother — anxious to relieve my father’s pain, exhausted with caregiving, deferential to doctors and no expert on high-tech medicine. She said yes. One of the most important medical decisions of my father’s life was over in minutes. . . .

[If my father's primary care physician had] had the chance to sit down with my parents, he could have explained that the pacemaker’s battery would last 10 years and asked whether my father wanted to live to be 89 in his nearly mute and dependent state. He could have discussed the option of using a temporary external pacemaker that, I later learned, could have seen my dad safely through surgery. But my mother never consulted Fales. And the system would have effectively penalized him if she had. Medicare would have paid him a standard office-visit rate of $54 for what would undoubtedly have been a long meeting — and nothing for phone calls to work out a plan with Rogan and the surgeon.

Medicare has made minor improvements since then, and in the House version of the health care reform bill debated last year, much better payments for such conversations were included. But after the provision was distorted as reimbursement for “death panels,” it was dropped. In my father’s case, there was only a brief informed-consent process, covering the boilerplate risks of minor surgery, handled by the general surgeon.

Butler’s family’s situation was clearly a troubling one. I do not agree with her harsher critics, who charge the New York Times has used her story to promote its political agenda:

The New York Times is continuing its promotion of the Obama administration’s cost-cutting health care legislation three months after it was signed into law. Central to the newspaper’s support for the bill is its drive to cut back on “unnecessary” treatments and procedures and to target for elimination “overly generous” insurance benefits. . . . The article is a cynical attempt to utilize the author’s family’s personal story—unarguably tragic and heartrending—to make the case that artificial pacemakers are being widely over-utilized.

But I was also troubled by Butler’s quoting the following studies:

In a 1997 study in The Journal of the American Geriatrics Society, 30 percent of seriously ill people surveyed in a hospital said they would “rather die” than live permanently in a nursing home. In a 2008 study in The Journal of the American College of Cardiology, 28 percent of patients with advanced heart failure said they would trade one day of excellent health for another two years in their current state.

I have not experienced “advanced heart failure,” but I know people who do, and it’s inconceivable to me that they would trade a day of “perfect health” for two months, much less two years, of stasis. Moreover, as Alasdair MacIntyre argues in his book Dependent Rational Animals, caring for others and being dependent are essential, important human experiences.

As I read Butler’s piece, I kept wishing that society had done more (perhaps along the lines of Britain’s Social Care programs) to help her family.

But even some forms of aid for the cared for (and their caregivers) are filled with philosophical complexities. Consider the Paro, a robotic seal I blogged about in last month and back in 2006. The Paro has been approved as “a Class 2 medical device (a category that includes powered wheelchairs)” to help soothe elderly patients. Here is one example of its powers:

One recent morning, staff at Marian Manor in Pittsburgh, one of Vincentian Collaborative’s homes, circulated three Paros among residents gathered for a sing-a-long. As 77-year-old Anita Biro sat down at a table, she berated two fellow residents and told them to leave, recalls Beth Kuenzi, activities manager for the home’s dementia unit. But when Ms. Kuenzi put Paro in front of Ms. Biro, her mood changed. As Ms. Biro stroked the robot’s synthetic fur, the machine batted its eyelashes and tracked movement with its head and eyes.

“I love this baby,” Ms. Biro cooed. Aides also take Paro to residents’ rooms to get them to socialize. At another Vincentian home, Lois Simmeth, 73, doesn’t always participate in group activities, but she ventures into the hall when she hears Paro’s sounds.

“I love animals,” explains Ms. Simmeth. She whispered to the robot in her lap: “I know you’re not real, but somehow, I don’t know, I love you.”

MIT Professor Sherry Turkle concedes that the Paro has some very good effects, but wonders “Why are we so willing to provide our parents, then ourselves, with faux relationships?” Another article explores advances in “building a machine that fills the basic human need for companionship.” Turkle, again, questions the larger social context:

[S]ome social critics see the use of robots with such patients as a sign of the low status of the elderly, especially those with dementia. As the technology improves . . . it will only grow more tempting to substitute Paro and its ilk for a family member, friend — or actual pet — in an ever-widening number of situations.

“Paro is the beginning,” she said. “It’s allowing us to say, ‘A robot makes sense in this situation.’ But does it really? And then what? What about a robot that reads to your kid? A robot you tell your troubles to? Who among us will eventually be deserving enough to deserve people?”

These are all fantastic questions, all-too-ready to be answered by techno-libertarian fantasists. I look forward to tracing the degree to which the decision to approve Paro as a covered device could reflect the larger ethical concerns explored by Dov Fox in his piece on the “gap between ethics and law” in other health decisionmaking.