MDedge ObGyn

A psychiatrist was treating a couple individually, one of whom was HIV-positive. During a session, the infected partner revealed he was having sex with other men outside the relationship and not using safe sex practices.

“He was being treated for major depression and anxiety at the time,” explained the anonymous psychiatrist.  “I strongly encouraged him to tell his partner, but he was scared of doing so. He stated that they had not been using safe sex practices between the two of them, but he was willing to start at that point.”

At a session with the HIV-negative partner, the psychiatrist inquired about the couple’s current sex practices. The HIV-negative partner reported no changes and said the two continued to have sex without condoms, said the psychiatrist, who shared the experience in Medscape’s Ethics 2020 Survey open-ended questions.

“My dilemma now was whether or not to inform him about his partner’s ‘extracurricular sex behavior,’ the psychiatrist said. “Since he was now at greater risk of contracting HIV, I felt compelled to do something to intervene.”

What would you do in this situation?

Hearing about infidelity while treating two family members is a bothersome ethical quandary for many physicians, according to responses from the Ethics 2020 Report. When asked to share their toughest ethical dilemma, one internist for example, wrote, “I have couples as patients, and it is very challenging if they reveal infidelity or separate/divorce; I cannot reveal info to the spouse, but it makes me very uncomfortable caring for both.” Similarly, an obstetrician-gynecologist wrote about her experience counseling patients who reveal extramarital affairs.

“Women confide deeply with their gynecologist, and although I was not successful in rescuing 100% of them, the majority accepted my counseling and saved their marriages,” the anonymous ob/gyn wrote. “In every case in which my patient was willing to resume her marital relationship, I always ensured that she advised her spouse of the infidelity, and the couple was referred to a qualified provider for marriage counseling.”

When a sexually transmitted infection (STI) comes into play however, physicians describe a deeper level of internal conflict. A family physician wrote her top ethical dilemma was “Cheating spouses and STIs: how do you get the other spouse treated?” An ob-gyn stated that, “disclosure of STI status in couples when this may indicate infidelity,” was a frequent ethical issue in her specialty. Commenters on Medscape’s recent story, “The Secret I’ll Take to my Grave: Doc Reveals,” also raised the uncomfortable topic. One physician recalled a deaf female patient who requested in writing not to test for syphilis and not to discuss the issue with her husband. “Patient knew that she had syphilis, but she did not want her husband to know,” the physician wrote.    

It’s not uncommon for physicians to encounter such scenarios when treating long-term couples, especially in the digital era, said Shannon Dowler, MD, chief medical officer for North Carolina Medicaid and a family physician at the Buncombe County STI Clinic.

“This is definitely something I think we see more of in our age of ‘hookup apps’ and easier access to casual sexual connections than we did before,” said Dr. Dowler, who serves on the CDC Advisory Committee on HIV, Viral Hepatitis, and STD Prevention and Treatment. 

The topic is particularly timely because of the pandemic’s impact on STI testing and the expected rise in sexually transmitted infection rates over the next year, Dr. Dowler notes.

“People weren’t necessarily coming in for routine screening or testing during the pandemic because they didn’t want to take a chance on being exposed to COVID,” she said. “But also, the reagent used for testing for certain types of transmitted infections was in short supply because they use that same reagent for the COVID test. We had shortages of STI testing in many parts of the country. I expect what we’re going to see over the next year are a lot of diagnoses that were missed during the pandemic and a lot of asymptomatic spread.”
 

What do the experts suggest?

Caring for spouses or two partners when an STI is discovered can be challenging for physicians, particularly in small towns where many people know each other, said Kenneth Goodman, PhD, founder and director of the Institute for Bioethics and Health Policy at the University of Miami.

“This can be a real challenge for family physicians and others in a small town,” he said. “If you discover one partner is positive for a sexually transmitted infection and the other is negative, then you’ve got a challenge to manage. The way to do that is to start with moral persuasion, namely you tell your patient, ‘You really need to disclose this. Because when he or she gets it, chances are, you’re going to be the prime suspect.’ “

Dr. Dowler, who practices in an STI clinic, said she once diagnosed a sexually transmitted infection in a patient who was married to one of Dowler’s coworkers. The patient would not allow the partner to be notified, she said. In this case, Dr. Dowler practiced expedited partner therapy (EPT), the clinical practice of treating sex partners of patients diagnosed with chlamydia or gonorrhea by giving the patient prescriptions or medications to take to the partner without having first examined the partner. The practice is legal to some extent in all states, Dr. Dowler said, but some states have different rules about how the practice can be utilized. 

Physicians are obligated to report communicable diseases to their local health department, Dr. Goodman said. The health department would then do contract tracing and be responsible for conveying the STI diagnosis to any relevant parties. Even so, Dr. Goodman said physicians have a moral obligation to strongly encourage patients to divulge the infection to their partner.

“Doctors should work on being persuasive to change behavior,” he said. “Tell your patients to do the right thing and follow up with them. You should tell patients they have a responsibility to disclose a sexually transmitted infection to any of their partners and a responsibility not to have unprotected sex. Doctors can be very powerful advocates for that.”

Dr. Dowler said if she is treating two partners, and one is diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection, she generally asks the patient for their consent to disclose the diagnosis to the partner. She ensures a witness, usually a nurse, is present when she asks. If consent is refused, Dr. Dowler guides her treatment to be as protective as possible, she said. A helpful resource for patients is Tellyourpartner.org, a website that sends an anonymous text or email about infection exposure and provides guidance on treatment locations and options.

Of course, if the sexually transmitted infection is HIV, another set of rules apply. As of 2021, 35 states have laws that criminalize HIV exposure. Laws vary, but many hold patients criminally liable if they knowingly expose another party to HIV. Many states and some cities also have ‘partner notification’ laws that require health providers to disclose an HIV diagnosis to the patient’s sex partners or to report the names of sex partners to the health department, if known. 

However, case law on a physician’s duty to warn is mixed, and doctors’ responsibility for STI reporting and partner notification is determined by individual states. Making matters more complex is the fact that some states have recently changed their HIV control requirements, Dr. Dowler said. In North Carolina for example, patients living with HIV who have been virally suppressed for 6 months and who are adherent to medications, are no longer in violation of the control measure if they do not disclose their HIV diagnosis to sex partners or if they don’t wear a condom.

“This means physicians would not have to report a virally suppressed, adequately treated HIV-positive patient who is having unprotected sex or take measures to inform any known sex partners of the diagnosis,” she said. “The landscape is constantly changing so physicians have to be vigilant about their state public health statutes. It’s a tricky area. It takes an already complicated topic and makes it just a little more complicated.”
 

Consider drafting a policy

It’s a good idea to have a policy in place at your practice that addresses such ethical dilemmas before they occur, says Michael Heitt, PsyD, a clinical psychologist on the faculty of Loyola University Maryland in Baltimore, and a member of the Maryland Psychological Association’s Ethics Committee. Dr. Heitt developed a model of ethical reasoning called CLEAR Lenses, which stands for Clinical, Legal, Ethical, Administrative, and Risk management. The approach encourages clinicians to identify often competing factors in the decision-making process before choosing a course of action to take.

In the situation of an unfaithful spouse who contracted an STI for example, the physician should consider clinical issues such as the medical likelihood the unaware partner has the STI, and legal issues such as maintaining the confidentiality of all patient information and possible mandated reporting of STI data, Dr. Heitt said. The lenses overlap since confidentiality is also a key ethical issue, and other ethical issues involve the balance of helping the unaware spouse and not harming the infected spouse, he explained. Administrative issues might include how medical records are maintained and whether the physician documents information about patients’ family members in the medical record, while risk management elements may include informed consent, documentation, and consultation. 

“So, if the physician has a policy about how such matters are dealt with, and patients are informed about this when they come to the practice, this can guide the physician much more easily through this sticky situation,” Dr. Heitt said. “Documentation of the decision-making process in the medical record demonstrates the physician’s thought process should it ever be challenged in the future, and consultation with peers (while disguising the identity of the patients, of course) sets a foundation of what a ‘reasonable standard’ might be in such situations.”

There is also the conflict-avoidant approach, Dr. Heitt said, in which the physician could perform “routine” STI testing if the unaware spouse was due for an appointment soon.

“But of course, this is far from avoiding any conflict; it just kicks the can down the road as there will surely be conflict — and plenty of confusion — if the wife tests positive for an STI,” he said. “In most situations, it is usually best to be brave, do the hard work upfront, and deal with the tough situation then, rather than trying to avoid the probable inevitable difficult conversation.”

As for the psychiatrist who was treating the cheating HIV-positive partner, the physician ultimately convinced both patients to come in for a couple’s session. The doctor allowed for a 2-hour timeframe to encourage discussion of any conflicts and unresolved issues, the psychiatrist said. After several more couple’s sessions, it was apparent the HIV-positive partner wanted out of the relationship, according to the psychiatrist’s account. The physician referred them to a couples’ therapist for ongoing treatment.

“During that same session, the HIV positive partner disclosed his recent behaviors and, as a result, they decided not to have further sexual contact until they could explore this further in therapy,” the psychiatrist wrote. “At last communication the couple decided to end the relationship, and the HIV negative partner remained negative.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A psychiatrist was treating a couple individually, one of whom was HIV-positive. During a session, the infected partner revealed he was having sex with other men outside the relationship and not using safe sex practices.

“He was being treated for major depression and anxiety at the time,” explained the anonymous psychiatrist.  “I strongly encouraged him to tell his partner, but he was scared of doing so. He stated that they had not been using safe sex practices between the two of them, but he was willing to start at that point.”

At a session with the HIV-negative partner, the psychiatrist inquired about the couple’s current sex practices. The HIV-negative partner reported no changes and said the two continued to have sex without condoms, said the psychiatrist, who shared the experience in Medscape’s Ethics 2020 Survey open-ended questions.

“My dilemma now was whether or not to inform him about his partner’s ‘extracurricular sex behavior,’ the psychiatrist said. “Since he was now at greater risk of contracting HIV, I felt compelled to do something to intervene.”

What would you do in this situation?

Hearing about infidelity while treating two family members is a bothersome ethical quandary for many physicians, according to responses from the Ethics 2020 Report. When asked to share their toughest ethical dilemma, one internist for example, wrote, “I have couples as patients, and it is very challenging if they reveal infidelity or separate/divorce; I cannot reveal info to the spouse, but it makes me very uncomfortable caring for both.” Similarly, an obstetrician-gynecologist wrote about her experience counseling patients who reveal extramarital affairs.

“Women confide deeply with their gynecologist, and although I was not successful in rescuing 100% of them, the majority accepted my counseling and saved their marriages,” the anonymous ob/gyn wrote. “In every case in which my patient was willing to resume her marital relationship, I always ensured that she advised her spouse of the infidelity, and the couple was referred to a qualified provider for marriage counseling.”

When a sexually transmitted infection (STI) comes into play however, physicians describe a deeper level of internal conflict. A family physician wrote her top ethical dilemma was “Cheating spouses and STIs: how do you get the other spouse treated?” An ob-gyn stated that, “disclosure of STI status in couples when this may indicate infidelity,” was a frequent ethical issue in her specialty. Commenters on Medscape’s recent story, “The Secret I’ll Take to my Grave: Doc Reveals,” also raised the uncomfortable topic. One physician recalled a deaf female patient who requested in writing not to test for syphilis and not to discuss the issue with her husband. “Patient knew that she had syphilis, but she did not want her husband to know,” the physician wrote.    

It’s not uncommon for physicians to encounter such scenarios when treating long-term couples, especially in the digital era, said Shannon Dowler, MD, chief medical officer for North Carolina Medicaid and a family physician at the Buncombe County STI Clinic.

“This is definitely something I think we see more of in our age of ‘hookup apps’ and easier access to casual sexual connections than we did before,” said Dr. Dowler, who serves on the CDC Advisory Committee on HIV, Viral Hepatitis, and STD Prevention and Treatment. 

The topic is particularly timely because of the pandemic’s impact on STI testing and the expected rise in sexually transmitted infection rates over the next year, Dr. Dowler notes.

“People weren’t necessarily coming in for routine screening or testing during the pandemic because they didn’t want to take a chance on being exposed to COVID,” she said. “But also, the reagent used for testing for certain types of transmitted infections was in short supply because they use that same reagent for the COVID test. We had shortages of STI testing in many parts of the country. I expect what we’re going to see over the next year are a lot of diagnoses that were missed during the pandemic and a lot of asymptomatic spread.”
 

What do the experts suggest?

Caring for spouses or two partners when an STI is discovered can be challenging for physicians, particularly in small towns where many people know each other, said Kenneth Goodman, PhD, founder and director of the Institute for Bioethics and Health Policy at the University of Miami.

“This can be a real challenge for family physicians and others in a small town,” he said. “If you discover one partner is positive for a sexually transmitted infection and the other is negative, then you’ve got a challenge to manage. The way to do that is to start with moral persuasion, namely you tell your patient, ‘You really need to disclose this. Because when he or she gets it, chances are, you’re going to be the prime suspect.’ “

Dr. Dowler, who practices in an STI clinic, said she once diagnosed a sexually transmitted infection in a patient who was married to one of Dowler’s coworkers. The patient would not allow the partner to be notified, she said. In this case, Dr. Dowler practiced expedited partner therapy (EPT), the clinical practice of treating sex partners of patients diagnosed with chlamydia or gonorrhea by giving the patient prescriptions or medications to take to the partner without having first examined the partner. The practice is legal to some extent in all states, Dr. Dowler said, but some states have different rules about how the practice can be utilized. 

Physicians are obligated to report communicable diseases to their local health department, Dr. Goodman said. The health department would then do contract tracing and be responsible for conveying the STI diagnosis to any relevant parties. Even so, Dr. Goodman said physicians have a moral obligation to strongly encourage patients to divulge the infection to their partner.

“Doctors should work on being persuasive to change behavior,” he said. “Tell your patients to do the right thing and follow up with them. You should tell patients they have a responsibility to disclose a sexually transmitted infection to any of their partners and a responsibility not to have unprotected sex. Doctors can be very powerful advocates for that.”

Dr. Dowler said if she is treating two partners, and one is diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection, she generally asks the patient for their consent to disclose the diagnosis to the partner. She ensures a witness, usually a nurse, is present when she asks. If consent is refused, Dr. Dowler guides her treatment to be as protective as possible, she said. A helpful resource for patients is Tellyourpartner.org, a website that sends an anonymous text or email about infection exposure and provides guidance on treatment locations and options.

Of course, if the sexually transmitted infection is HIV, another set of rules apply. As of 2021, 35 states have laws that criminalize HIV exposure. Laws vary, but many hold patients criminally liable if they knowingly expose another party to HIV. Many states and some cities also have ‘partner notification’ laws that require health providers to disclose an HIV diagnosis to the patient’s sex partners or to report the names of sex partners to the health department, if known. 

However, case law on a physician’s duty to warn is mixed, and doctors’ responsibility for STI reporting and partner notification is determined by individual states. Making matters more complex is the fact that some states have recently changed their HIV control requirements, Dr. Dowler said. In North Carolina for example, patients living with HIV who have been virally suppressed for 6 months and who are adherent to medications, are no longer in violation of the control measure if they do not disclose their HIV diagnosis to sex partners or if they don’t wear a condom.

“This means physicians would not have to report a virally suppressed, adequately treated HIV-positive patient who is having unprotected sex or take measures to inform any known sex partners of the diagnosis,” she said. “The landscape is constantly changing so physicians have to be vigilant about their state public health statutes. It’s a tricky area. It takes an already complicated topic and makes it just a little more complicated.”
 

Consider drafting a policy

It’s a good idea to have a policy in place at your practice that addresses such ethical dilemmas before they occur, says Michael Heitt, PsyD, a clinical psychologist on the faculty of Loyola University Maryland in Baltimore, and a member of the Maryland Psychological Association’s Ethics Committee. Dr. Heitt developed a model of ethical reasoning called CLEAR Lenses, which stands for Clinical, Legal, Ethical, Administrative, and Risk management. The approach encourages clinicians to identify often competing factors in the decision-making process before choosing a course of action to take.

In the situation of an unfaithful spouse who contracted an STI for example, the physician should consider clinical issues such as the medical likelihood the unaware partner has the STI, and legal issues such as maintaining the confidentiality of all patient information and possible mandated reporting of STI data, Dr. Heitt said. The lenses overlap since confidentiality is also a key ethical issue, and other ethical issues involve the balance of helping the unaware spouse and not harming the infected spouse, he explained. Administrative issues might include how medical records are maintained and whether the physician documents information about patients’ family members in the medical record, while risk management elements may include informed consent, documentation, and consultation. 

“So, if the physician has a policy about how such matters are dealt with, and patients are informed about this when they come to the practice, this can guide the physician much more easily through this sticky situation,” Dr. Heitt said. “Documentation of the decision-making process in the medical record demonstrates the physician’s thought process should it ever be challenged in the future, and consultation with peers (while disguising the identity of the patients, of course) sets a foundation of what a ‘reasonable standard’ might be in such situations.”

There is also the conflict-avoidant approach, Dr. Heitt said, in which the physician could perform “routine” STI testing if the unaware spouse was due for an appointment soon.

“But of course, this is far from avoiding any conflict; it just kicks the can down the road as there will surely be conflict — and plenty of confusion — if the wife tests positive for an STI,” he said. “In most situations, it is usually best to be brave, do the hard work upfront, and deal with the tough situation then, rather than trying to avoid the probable inevitable difficult conversation.”

As for the psychiatrist who was treating the cheating HIV-positive partner, the physician ultimately convinced both patients to come in for a couple’s session. The doctor allowed for a 2-hour timeframe to encourage discussion of any conflicts and unresolved issues, the psychiatrist said. After several more couple’s sessions, it was apparent the HIV-positive partner wanted out of the relationship, according to the psychiatrist’s account. The physician referred them to a couples’ therapist for ongoing treatment.

“During that same session, the HIV positive partner disclosed his recent behaviors and, as a result, they decided not to have further sexual contact until they could explore this further in therapy,” the psychiatrist wrote. “At last communication the couple decided to end the relationship, and the HIV negative partner remained negative.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A psychiatrist was treating a couple individually, one of whom was HIV-positive. During a session, the infected partner revealed he was having sex with other men outside the relationship and not using safe sex practices.

“He was being treated for major depression and anxiety at the time,” explained the anonymous psychiatrist.  “I strongly encouraged him to tell his partner, but he was scared of doing so. He stated that they had not been using safe sex practices between the two of them, but he was willing to start at that point.”

At a session with the HIV-negative partner, the psychiatrist inquired about the couple’s current sex practices. The HIV-negative partner reported no changes and said the two continued to have sex without condoms, said the psychiatrist, who shared the experience in Medscape’s Ethics 2020 Survey open-ended questions.

“My dilemma now was whether or not to inform him about his partner’s ‘extracurricular sex behavior,’ the psychiatrist said. “Since he was now at greater risk of contracting HIV, I felt compelled to do something to intervene.”

What would you do in this situation?

Hearing about infidelity while treating two family members is a bothersome ethical quandary for many physicians, according to responses from the Ethics 2020 Report. When asked to share their toughest ethical dilemma, one internist for example, wrote, “I have couples as patients, and it is very challenging if they reveal infidelity or separate/divorce; I cannot reveal info to the spouse, but it makes me very uncomfortable caring for both.” Similarly, an obstetrician-gynecologist wrote about her experience counseling patients who reveal extramarital affairs.

“Women confide deeply with their gynecologist, and although I was not successful in rescuing 100% of them, the majority accepted my counseling and saved their marriages,” the anonymous ob/gyn wrote. “In every case in which my patient was willing to resume her marital relationship, I always ensured that she advised her spouse of the infidelity, and the couple was referred to a qualified provider for marriage counseling.”

When a sexually transmitted infection (STI) comes into play however, physicians describe a deeper level of internal conflict. A family physician wrote her top ethical dilemma was “Cheating spouses and STIs: how do you get the other spouse treated?” An ob-gyn stated that, “disclosure of STI status in couples when this may indicate infidelity,” was a frequent ethical issue in her specialty. Commenters on Medscape’s recent story, “The Secret I’ll Take to my Grave: Doc Reveals,” also raised the uncomfortable topic. One physician recalled a deaf female patient who requested in writing not to test for syphilis and not to discuss the issue with her husband. “Patient knew that she had syphilis, but she did not want her husband to know,” the physician wrote.    

It’s not uncommon for physicians to encounter such scenarios when treating long-term couples, especially in the digital era, said Shannon Dowler, MD, chief medical officer for North Carolina Medicaid and a family physician at the Buncombe County STI Clinic.

“This is definitely something I think we see more of in our age of ‘hookup apps’ and easier access to casual sexual connections than we did before,” said Dr. Dowler, who serves on the CDC Advisory Committee on HIV, Viral Hepatitis, and STD Prevention and Treatment. 

The topic is particularly timely because of the pandemic’s impact on STI testing and the expected rise in sexually transmitted infection rates over the next year, Dr. Dowler notes.

“People weren’t necessarily coming in for routine screening or testing during the pandemic because they didn’t want to take a chance on being exposed to COVID,” she said. “But also, the reagent used for testing for certain types of transmitted infections was in short supply because they use that same reagent for the COVID test. We had shortages of STI testing in many parts of the country. I expect what we’re going to see over the next year are a lot of diagnoses that were missed during the pandemic and a lot of asymptomatic spread.”
 

What do the experts suggest?

Caring for spouses or two partners when an STI is discovered can be challenging for physicians, particularly in small towns where many people know each other, said Kenneth Goodman, PhD, founder and director of the Institute for Bioethics and Health Policy at the University of Miami.

“This can be a real challenge for family physicians and others in a small town,” he said. “If you discover one partner is positive for a sexually transmitted infection and the other is negative, then you’ve got a challenge to manage. The way to do that is to start with moral persuasion, namely you tell your patient, ‘You really need to disclose this. Because when he or she gets it, chances are, you’re going to be the prime suspect.’ “

Dr. Dowler, who practices in an STI clinic, said she once diagnosed a sexually transmitted infection in a patient who was married to one of Dowler’s coworkers. The patient would not allow the partner to be notified, she said. In this case, Dr. Dowler practiced expedited partner therapy (EPT), the clinical practice of treating sex partners of patients diagnosed with chlamydia or gonorrhea by giving the patient prescriptions or medications to take to the partner without having first examined the partner. The practice is legal to some extent in all states, Dr. Dowler said, but some states have different rules about how the practice can be utilized. 

Physicians are obligated to report communicable diseases to their local health department, Dr. Goodman said. The health department would then do contract tracing and be responsible for conveying the STI diagnosis to any relevant parties. Even so, Dr. Goodman said physicians have a moral obligation to strongly encourage patients to divulge the infection to their partner.

“Doctors should work on being persuasive to change behavior,” he said. “Tell your patients to do the right thing and follow up with them. You should tell patients they have a responsibility to disclose a sexually transmitted infection to any of their partners and a responsibility not to have unprotected sex. Doctors can be very powerful advocates for that.”

Dr. Dowler said if she is treating two partners, and one is diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection, she generally asks the patient for their consent to disclose the diagnosis to the partner. She ensures a witness, usually a nurse, is present when she asks. If consent is refused, Dr. Dowler guides her treatment to be as protective as possible, she said. A helpful resource for patients is Tellyourpartner.org, a website that sends an anonymous text or email about infection exposure and provides guidance on treatment locations and options.

Of course, if the sexually transmitted infection is HIV, another set of rules apply. As of 2021, 35 states have laws that criminalize HIV exposure. Laws vary, but many hold patients criminally liable if they knowingly expose another party to HIV. Many states and some cities also have ‘partner notification’ laws that require health providers to disclose an HIV diagnosis to the patient’s sex partners or to report the names of sex partners to the health department, if known. 

However, case law on a physician’s duty to warn is mixed, and doctors’ responsibility for STI reporting and partner notification is determined by individual states. Making matters more complex is the fact that some states have recently changed their HIV control requirements, Dr. Dowler said. In North Carolina for example, patients living with HIV who have been virally suppressed for 6 months and who are adherent to medications, are no longer in violation of the control measure if they do not disclose their HIV diagnosis to sex partners or if they don’t wear a condom.

“This means physicians would not have to report a virally suppressed, adequately treated HIV-positive patient who is having unprotected sex or take measures to inform any known sex partners of the diagnosis,” she said. “The landscape is constantly changing so physicians have to be vigilant about their state public health statutes. It’s a tricky area. It takes an already complicated topic and makes it just a little more complicated.”
 

Consider drafting a policy

It’s a good idea to have a policy in place at your practice that addresses such ethical dilemmas before they occur, says Michael Heitt, PsyD, a clinical psychologist on the faculty of Loyola University Maryland in Baltimore, and a member of the Maryland Psychological Association’s Ethics Committee. Dr. Heitt developed a model of ethical reasoning called CLEAR Lenses, which stands for Clinical, Legal, Ethical, Administrative, and Risk management. The approach encourages clinicians to identify often competing factors in the decision-making process before choosing a course of action to take.

In the situation of an unfaithful spouse who contracted an STI for example, the physician should consider clinical issues such as the medical likelihood the unaware partner has the STI, and legal issues such as maintaining the confidentiality of all patient information and possible mandated reporting of STI data, Dr. Heitt said. The lenses overlap since confidentiality is also a key ethical issue, and other ethical issues involve the balance of helping the unaware spouse and not harming the infected spouse, he explained. Administrative issues might include how medical records are maintained and whether the physician documents information about patients’ family members in the medical record, while risk management elements may include informed consent, documentation, and consultation. 

“So, if the physician has a policy about how such matters are dealt with, and patients are informed about this when they come to the practice, this can guide the physician much more easily through this sticky situation,” Dr. Heitt said. “Documentation of the decision-making process in the medical record demonstrates the physician’s thought process should it ever be challenged in the future, and consultation with peers (while disguising the identity of the patients, of course) sets a foundation of what a ‘reasonable standard’ might be in such situations.”

There is also the conflict-avoidant approach, Dr. Heitt said, in which the physician could perform “routine” STI testing if the unaware spouse was due for an appointment soon.

“But of course, this is far from avoiding any conflict; it just kicks the can down the road as there will surely be conflict — and plenty of confusion — if the wife tests positive for an STI,” he said. “In most situations, it is usually best to be brave, do the hard work upfront, and deal with the tough situation then, rather than trying to avoid the probable inevitable difficult conversation.”

As for the psychiatrist who was treating the cheating HIV-positive partner, the physician ultimately convinced both patients to come in for a couple’s session. The doctor allowed for a 2-hour timeframe to encourage discussion of any conflicts and unresolved issues, the psychiatrist said. After several more couple’s sessions, it was apparent the HIV-positive partner wanted out of the relationship, according to the psychiatrist’s account. The physician referred them to a couples’ therapist for ongoing treatment.

“During that same session, the HIV positive partner disclosed his recent behaviors and, as a result, they decided not to have further sexual contact until they could explore this further in therapy,” the psychiatrist wrote. “At last communication the couple decided to end the relationship, and the HIV negative partner remained negative.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

This story was originally published on ProPublica and was co-published with NPR.

When Mai Yang is looking for a patient, she travels light. She dresses deliberately — not too formal, so she won’t be mistaken for a police officer; not too casual, so people will look past her tiny 4-foot-10 stature and youthful face and trust her with sensitive health information. Always, she wears closed-toed shoes, “just in case I need to run.”

Yang carries a stack of cards issued by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that show what happens when the Treponema pallidum bacteria invades a patient’s body. There’s a photo of an angry red sore on a penis. There’s one of a tongue, marred by mucus-lined lesions. And there’s one of a newborn baby, its belly, torso and thighs dotted in a rash, its mouth open, as if caught midcry.

It was because of the prospect of one such baby that Yang found herself walking through a homeless encampment on a blazing July day in Huron, Calif., an hour’s drive southwest of her office at the Fresno County Department of Public Health. She was looking for a pregnant woman named Angelica, whose visit to a community clinic had triggered a report to the health department’s sexually transmitted disease program. Angelica had tested positive for syphilis. If she was not treated, her baby could end up like the one in the picture or worse — there was a 40% chance the baby would die.

Ms. Yang knew, though, that if she helped Angelica get treated with three weekly shots of penicillin at least 30 days before she gave birth, it was likely that the infection would be wiped out and her baby would be born without any symptoms at all. Every case of congenital syphilis, when a baby is born with the disease, is avoidable. Each is considered a “sentinel event,” a warning that the public health system is failing.

The alarms are now clamoring. In the United States, more than 129,800 syphilis cases were recorded in 2019, double the case count of five years prior. In the same time period, cases of congenital syphilis quadrupled: 1,870 babies were born with the disease; 128 died. Case counts from 2020 are still being finalized, but the CDC has said that reported cases of congenital syphilis have already exceeded the prior year. Black, Hispanic, and Native American babies are disproportionately at risk.

There was a time, not too long ago, when CDC officials thought they could eliminate the centuries-old scourge from the United States, for adults and babies. But the effort lost steam and cases soon crept up again. Syphilis is not an outlier. The United States goes through what former CDC director Dr. Tom Frieden calls “a deadly cycle of panic and neglect” in which emergencies propel officials to scramble and throw money at a problem — whether that’s Ebola, Zika, or COVID-19. Then, as fear ebbs, so does the attention and motivation to finish the task.

The last fraction of cases can be the hardest to solve, whether that’s eradicating a bug or getting vaccines into arms, yet too often, that’s exactly when political attention gets diverted to the next alarm. The result: The hardest to reach and most vulnerable populations are the ones left suffering, after everyone else looks away.

Ms. Yang first received Angelica’s lab report on June 17. The address listed was a P.O. box, and the phone number belonged to her sister, who said Angelica was living in Huron. That was a piece of luck: Huron is tiny; the city spans just 1.6 square miles. On her first visit, a worker at the Alamo Motel said she knew Angelica and directed Ms. Yang to a nearby homeless encampment. Angelica wasn’t there, so Ms. Yang returned a second time, bringing one of the health department nurses who could serve as an interpreter.

They made their way to the barren patch of land behind Huron Valley Foods, the local grocery store, where people took shelter in makeshift lean-tos composed of cardboard boxes, scrap wood ,and scavenged furniture, draped with sheets that served as ceilings and curtains. Yang stopped outside one of the structures, calling a greeting.

“Hi, I’m from the health department, I’m looking for Angelica.”

The nurse echoed her in Spanish.

Angelica emerged, squinting in the sunlight. Ms. Yang couldn’t tell if she was visibly pregnant yet, as her body was obscured by an oversized shirt. The two women were about the same age: Ms. Yang 26 and Angelica 27. Ms. Yang led her away from the tent, so they could speak privately. Angelica seemed reticent, surprised by the sudden appearance of the two health officers. “You’re not in trouble,” Ms. Yang said, before revealing the results of her blood test.

Angelica had never heard of syphilis.

“Have you been to prenatal care?”

Angelica shook her head. The local clinic had referred her to an obstetrician in Hanford, a 30-minute drive away. She had no car. She also mentioned that she didn’t intend to raise her baby; her two oldest children lived with her mother, and this one likely would, too.

Ms. Yang pulled out the CDC cards, showing them to Angelica and asking if she had experienced any of the symptoms illustrated. No, Angelica said, her lips pursed with disgust.

“Right now you still feel healthy, but this bacteria is still in your body,” Ms. Yang pressed. “You need to get the infection treated to prevent further health complications to yourself and your baby.”

The community clinic was just across the street. “Can we walk you over to the clinic and make sure you get seen so we can get this taken care of?”

Angelica demurred. She said she hadn’t showered for a week and wanted to wash up first. She said she’d go later.

Ms. Yang tried once more to extract a promise: “What time do you think you’ll go?”

“Today, for sure.”

Syphilis is called The Great Imitator: It can look like any number of diseases. In its first stage, the only evidence of infection is a painless sore at the bacteria’s point of entry. Weeks later, as the bacteria multiplies, skin rashes bloom on the palms of the hands and bottoms of the feet. Other traits of this stage include fever, headaches, muscle aches, sore throat, and fatigue. These symptoms eventually disappear and the patient progresses into the latent phase, which betrays no external signs. But if left untreated, after a decade or more, syphilis will reemerge in up to 30% of patients, capable of wreaking horror on a wide range of organ systems. Dr. Marion Sims, president of the American Medical Association in 1876, called it a “terrible scourge, which begins with lamb-like mildness and ends with lion-like rage that ruthlessly destroys everything in its way.”

The corkscrew-shaped bacteria can infiltrate the nervous system at any stage of the infection. Ms. Yang is haunted by her memory of interviewing a young man whose dementia was so severe that he didn’t know why he was in the hospital or how old he was. And regardless of symptoms or stage, the bacteria can penetrate the placenta to infect a fetus. Even in these cases the infection is unpredictable: Many babies are born with normal physical features, but others can have deformed bones or damaged brains, and they can struggle to hear, see, or breathe.

From its earliest days, syphilis has been shrouded in stigma. The first recorded outbreak was in the late 15th century, when Charles VIII led the French army to invade Naples. Italian physicians described French soldiers covered with pustules, dying from a sexually transmitted disease. As the affliction spread, Italians called it the French Disease. The French blamed the Neopolitans. It was also called the German, Polish, or Spanish disease, depending on which neighbor one wanted to blame. Even its name bears the taint of divine judgement: It comes from a 16th-century poem that tells of a shepherd, Syphilus, who offended the god Apollo and was punished with a hideous disease.

By 1937 in America, when former Surgeon General Thomas Parran wrote the book “Shadow on the Land,” he estimated some 680,000 people were under treatment for syphilis; about 60,000 babies were being born annually with congenital syphilis. There was no cure, and the stigma was so strong that public health officials feared even properly documenting cases.

Thanks to Dr. Parran’s ardent advocacy, Congress in 1938 passed the National Venereal Disease Control Act, which created grants for states to set up clinics and support testing and treatment. Other than a short-lived funding effort during World War I, this was the first coordinated federal push to respond to the disease.

Around the same time, the Public Health Service launched an effort to record the natural history of syphilis. Situated in Tuskegee, Ala., the infamous study recruited 600 black men. By the early 1940s, penicillin became widely available and was found to be a reliable cure, but the treatment was withheld from the study participants. Outrage over the ethical violations would cast a stain across syphilis research for decades to come and fuel generations of mistrust in the medical system among Black Americans that continues to this day.

With the introduction of penicillin, cases began to plummet. Twice, the CDC has announced efforts to wipe out the disease — once in the 1960s and again in 1999.

In the latest effort, the CDC announced that the United States had “a unique opportunity to eliminate syphilis within its borders,” thanks to historically low rates, with 80% of counties reporting zero cases. The concentration of cases in the South “identifies communities in which there is a fundamental failure of public health capacity,” the agency noted, adding that elimination — which it defined as fewer than 1,000 cases a year — would “decrease one of our most glaring racial disparities in health.”

Two years after the campaign began, cases started climbing, first among gay men and later, heterosexuals. Cases in women started accelerating in 2013, followed shortly by increasing numbers of babies born with syphilis.The reasons for failure are complex; people relaxed safer sex practices after the advent of potent HIV combination therapies, increased methamphetamine use drove riskier behavior and an explosion of online dating made it hard to track and test sexual partners, according to Dr. Ina Park, medical director of the California Prevention Training Center at the University of California San Francisco.

But federal and state public health efforts were hamstrung from the get-go. In 1999, the CDC said it would need about $35 million to $39 million in new federal funds annually for at least five years to eliminate syphilis. The agency got less than half of what it asked for, according to Jo Valentine, former program coordinator of the CDC’s Syphilis Elimination Effort. As cases rose, the CDC modified its goals in 2006 from 0.4 primary and secondary syphilis cases per 100,000 in population to 2.2 cases per 100,000. By 2013, as elimination seemed less and less viable, the CDC changed its focus to ending congenital syphilis only.

Since then, funding has remained anemic. From 2015 to 2020, the CDC’s budget for preventing sexually transmitted infections grew by 2.2%. Taking inflation into account, that’s a 7.4% reduction in purchasing power. In the same period, cases of syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia — the three STDs that have federally funded control programs — increased by nearly 30%.

“We have a long history of nearly eradicating something, then changing our attention, and seeing a resurgence in numbers,” said David Harvey, executive director of the National Coalition of STD Directors. “We have more congenital syphilis cases today in America than we ever had pediatric AIDS at the height of the AIDS epidemic. It’s heartbreaking.”

Adriane Casalotti, chief of government and public affairs at the National Association of County and City Health Officials, warns that the United States should not be surprised to see case counts continue to climb. “The bugs don’t go away,” she said. “They’re just waiting for the next opportunity, when you’re not paying attention.”

Ms. Yang waited until the end of the day, then called the clinic to see if Angelica had gone for her shot. She had not. Ms. Yang would have to block off another half day to visit Huron again, but she had three dozen other cases to deal with.

States in the South and West have seen the highest syphilis rates in recent years. In 2017, 64 babies in Fresno County were born with syphilis at a rate of 440 babies per 100,000 live births — about 19 times the national rate. While the county had managed to lower case counts in the two years that followed, the pandemic threatened to unravel that progress, forcing STD staffers to do COVID-19 contact tracing, pausing field visits to find infected people, and scaring patients from seeking care. Ms. Yang’s colleague handled three cases of stillbirth in 2020; in each, the woman was never diagnosed with syphilis because she feared catching the coronavirus and skipped prenatal care.

Ms. Yang, whose caseload peaked at 70 during a COVID-19 surge, knew she would not be able handle them all as thoroughly as she’d like to. “When I was being mentored by another investigator, he said: ‘You’re not a superhero. You can’t save everybody,’” she said. She prioritizes men who have sex with men, because there’s a higher prevalence of syphilis in that population, and pregnant people, because of the horrific consequences for babies.

The job of a disease intervention specialist isn’t for everyone: It means meeting patients whenever and wherever they are available — in the mop closet of a bus station, in a quiet parking lot — to inform them about the disease, to extract names of sex partners and to encourage treatment. Patients are often reluctant to talk. They can get belligerent, upset that “the government” has their personal information or shattered at the thought that a partner is likely cheating on them. Salaries typically start in the low $40,000s.

Jena Adams, Ms. Yang’s supervisor, has eight investigators working on HIV and syphilis. In the middle of 2020, she lost two and replaced them only recently. “It’s been exhausting,” Ms. Adams said. She has only one specialist who is trained to take blood samples in the field, crucial for guaranteeing that the partners of those who test positive for syphilis also get tested. Ms. Adams wants to get phlebotomy training for the rest of her staff, but it’s $2,000 per person. The department also doesn’t have anyone who can administer penicillin injections in the field; that would have been key when Ms. Yang met Angelica. For a while, a nurse who worked in the tuberculosis program would ride along to give penicillin shots on a volunteer basis. Then he, too, left the health department.

Much of the resources in public health trickle down from the CDC, which distributes money to states, which then parcel it out to counties. The CDC gets its budget from Congress, which tells the agency, by line item, exactly how much money it can spend to fight a disease or virus, in an uncommonly specific manner not seen in many other agencies. The decisions are often politically driven and can be detached from actual health needs.

When the House and Senate appropriations committees meet to decide how much the CDC will get for each line item, they are barraged by lobbyists for individual disease interests. Stephanie Arnold Pang, senior director of policy and government relations at the National Coalition of STD Directors, can pick out the groups by sight: breast cancer wears pink, Alzheimer’s goes in purple, multiple sclerosis comes in orange, HIV in red. STD prevention advocates, like herself, don a green ribbon, but they’re far outnumbered.

And unlike diseases that might already be familiar to lawmakers, or have patient and family spokespeople who can tell their own powerful stories, syphilis doesn’t have many willing poster children. “Congressmen don’t wake up one day and say, ‘Oh hey, there’s congenital syphilis in my jurisdiction.’ You have to raise awareness,” Arnold Pang said. It can be hard jockeying for a meeting. “Some offices might say, ‘I don’t have time for you because we’ve just seen HIV.’ ... Sometimes, it feels like you’re talking into a void.”

The consequences of the political nature of public health funding have become more obvious during the coronavirus pandemic. The 2014 Ebola epidemic was seen as a “global wakeup call” that the world wasn’t prepared for a major pandemic, yet in 2018, the CDC scaled back its epidemic prevention work as money ran out. “If you’ve got to choose between Alzheimer’s research and stopping an outbreak that may not happen? Stopping an outbreak that might not happen doesn’t do well,” said Dr. Frieden, the former CDC director. “The CDC needs to have more money and more flexible money. Otherwise, we’re going to be in this situation long term.”

In May 2021, President Joe Biden’s administration announced it would set aside $7.4 billion over the next five years to hire and train public health workers, including $1.1 billion for more disease intervention specialists like Ms. Yang. Public health officials are thrilled to have the chance to expand their workforce, but some worry the time horizon may be too short. “We’ve seen this movie before, right?” Dr. Frieden said. “Everyone gets concerned when there’s an outbreak, and when that outbreak stops, the headlines stop, and an economic downturn happens, the budget gets cut.”

Fresno’s STD clinic was shuttered in 2010 amid the Great Recession. Many others have vanished since the passage of the Affordable Care Act. Health leaders thought “by magically beefing up the primary care system, that we would do a better job of catching STIs and treating them,” said Mr. Harvey, the executive director of the National Coalition of STD Directors. That hasn’t worked out; people want access to anonymous services, and primary care doctors often don’t have STDs top of mind. The coalition is lobbying Congress for funding to support STD clinical services, proposing a three-year demonstration project funded at $600 million.

It’s one of Ms. Adams’ dreams to see Fresno’s STD clinic restored as it was. “You could come in for an HIV test and get other STDs checked,” she said. “And if a patient is positive, you can give a first injection on the spot.”

On Aug. 12, Ms. Yang set out for Huron again, speeding past groves of almond trees and fields of grapes in the department’s white Chevy Cruze. She brought along a colleague, Jorge Sevilla, who had recently transferred to the STD program from COVID-19 contact tracing. Ms. Yang was anxious to find Angelica again. “She’s probably in her second trimester now,” she said.

They found her outside of a pale yellow house a few blocks from the homeless encampment; the owner was letting her stay in a shed tucked in the corner of the dirt yard. This time, it was evident that she was pregnant. Ms. Yang noted that Angelica was wearing a wig; hair loss is a symptom of syphilis.

“Do you remember me?” Ms. Yang asked.

Angelica nodded. She didn’t seem surprised to see Ms. Yang again. (I came along, and Mr. Sevilla explained who I was and that I was writing about syphilis and the people affected by it. Angelica signed a release for me to report about her case, and she said she had no problem with me writing about her or even using her full name. ProPublica chose to only print her first name.)

“How are you doing? How’s the baby?”

“Bien.”

“So the last time we talked, we were going to have you go to United Healthcare Center to get treatment. Have you gone since?”

Angelica shook her head.

“We brought some gift cards...” Mr. Sevilla started in Spanish. The department uses them as incentives for completing injections. But Angelica was already shaking her head. The nearest Walmart was the next town over.

Ms. Yang turned to her partner. “Tell her: So the reason why we’re coming out here again is because we really need her to go in for treatment. ... We really are concerned for the baby’s health especially since she’s had the infection for quite a while.”

Angelica listened while Mr. Sevilla interpreted, her eyes on the ground. Then she looked up. “Orita?” she asked. Right now?

“I’ll walk with you,” Ms. Yang offered. Angelica shook her head. “She said she wants to shower first before she goes over there,” Mr. Sevilla said.

Ms. Yang made a face. “She said that to me last time.” Ms. Yang offered to wait, but Angelica didn’t want the health officers to linger by the house. She said she would meet them by the clinic in 15 minutes.

Ms. Yang was reluctant to let her go but again had no other option. She and Mr. Sevilla drove to the clinic, then stood on the corner of the parking lot, staring down the road.

Talk to the pediatricians, obstetricians, and families on the front lines of the congenital syphilis surge and it becomes clear why Ms. Yang and others are trying so desperately to prevent cases. Dr. J. B. Cantey, associate professor in pediatrics at UT Health San Antonio, remembers a baby girl born at 25 weeks gestation who weighed a pound and a half. Syphilis had spread through her bones and lungs. She spent five months in the neonatal intensive care unit, breathing through a ventilator, and was still eating through a tube when she was discharged.

Then, there are the miscarriages, the stillbirths and the inconsolable parents. Dr. Irene Stafford, an associate professor and maternal-fetal medicine specialist at UT Health in Houston, cannot forget a patient who came in at 36 weeks for a routine checkup, pregnant with her first child. Dr. Stafford realized that there was no heartbeat. “She could see on my face that something was really wrong,” Dr. Stafford recalled. She had to let the patient know that syphilis had killed her baby. “She was hysterical, just bawling,” Dr. Stafford said. “I’ve seen people’s families ripped apart and I’ve seen beautiful babies die.” Fewer than 10% of patients who experience a stillbirth are tested for syphilis, suggesting that cases are underdiagnosed.

A Texas grandmother named Solidad Odunuga offers a glimpse into what the future could hold for Angelica’s mother, who may wind up raising her baby.

In February of last year, Ms. Odunuga got a call from the Lyndon B. Johnson Hospital in Houston. A nurse told her that her daughter was about to give birth and that child protective services had been called. Ms. Odunuga had lost contact with her daughter, who struggled with homelessness and substance abuse. She arrived in time to see her grandson delivered, premature at 30 weeks old, weighing 2.7 pounds. He tested positive for syphilis.

When a child protective worker asked Ms. Odunuga to take custody of the infant, she felt a wave of dread. “I was in denial,” she recalled. “I did not plan to be a mom again.” The baby’s medical problems were daunting: “Global developmental delays ... concerns for visual impairments ... high risk of cerebral palsy,” read a note from the doctor at the time.

Still, Ms. Odunuga visited her grandson every day for three months, driving to the NICU from her job at the University of Houston. “I’d put him in my shirt to keep him warm and hold him there.” She fell in love. She named him Emmanuel.

Once Emmanuel was discharged, Ms. Odunuga realized she had no choice but to quit her job. While Medicaid covered the costs of Emmanuel’s treatment, it was on her to care for him. From infancy, Emmanuel’s life has been a whirlwind of constant therapy. Today, at 20 months old, Odunuga brings him to physical, occupational, speech, and developmental therapy, each a different appointment on a different day of the week.

Emmanuel has thrived beyond what his doctors predicted, toddling so fast that Ms. Odunuga can’t look away for a minute and beaming as he waves his favorite toy phone. Yet he still suffers from gagging issues, which means Ms. Odunuga can’t feed him any solid foods. Liquid gets into his lungs when he aspirates; it has led to pneumonia three times. Emmanuel has a special stroller that helps keep his head in a position that won’t aggravate his persistent reflux, but Odunuga said she still has to pull over on the side of the road sometimes when she hears him projectile vomiting from the backseat.

The days are endless. Once she puts Emmanuel to bed, Ms. Odunuga starts planning the next day’s appointments. “I’ve had to cry alone, scream out alone,” she said. “Sometimes I wake up and think, Is this real? And then I hear him in the next room.”

Putting aside the challenge of eliminating syphilis entirely, everyone agrees it’s both doable and necessary to prevent newborn cases. “There was a crisis in perinatal HIV almost 30 years ago and people stood up and said this is not OK — it’s not acceptable for babies to be born in that condition. ... [We] brought it down from 1,700 babies born each year with perinatal HIV to less than 40 per year today,” said Virginia Bowen, an epidemiologist at the CDC. “Now here we are with a slightly different condition. We can also stand up and say, ‘This is not acceptable.’” Belarus, Bermuda, Cuba, Malaysia, Thailand, and Sri Lanka are among countries recognized by the World Health Organization for eliminating congenital syphilis.

Success starts with filling gaps across the health care system.

For almost a century, public health experts have advocated for testing pregnant patients more than once for syphilis in order to catch the infection. But policies nationwide still don’t reflect this best practice. Six states have no prenatal screening requirement at all. Even in states that require three tests, public health officials say that many physicians aren’t aware of the requirements. Dr. Stafford, the maternal-fetal medicine specialist in Houston, says she’s tired of hearing her own peers in medicine tell her, “Oh, syphilis is a problem?”

It costs public health departments less than 25 cents a dose to buy penicillin, but for a private practice, it’s more than $1,000, according to Dr. Park of the University of California San Francisco. “There’s no incentive for a private physician to stock a dose that could expire before it’s used, so they often don’t have it. So a woman comes in, they say, ‘We’ll send you to the emergency department or health department to get it,’ then [the patients] don’t show up.”

A vaccine would be invaluable for preventing spread among people at high risk for reinfection. But there is none. Scientists only recently figured out how to grow the bacteria in the lab, prompting grants from the National Institutes of Health to fund research into a vaccine. Dr. Justin Radolf, a researcher at the University of Connecticut School of Medicine, said he hopes his team will have a vaccine candidate by the end of its five-year grant. But it’ll likely take years more to find a manufacturer and run human trials.

Public health agencies also need to recognize that many of the hurdles to getting pregnant people treated involve access to care, economic stability, safe housing and transportation. In Fresno, Ms. Adams has been working on ways her department can collaborate with mental health services. Recently, one of her disease intervention specialists managed to get a pregnant woman treated with penicillin shots and, at the patient’s request, connected her with an addiction treatment center.

Gaining a patient’s cooperation means seeing them as complex humans instead of just a case to solve. “There may be past traumas with the health care system,” said Cynthia Deverson, project manager of the Houston Fetal Infant Morbidity Review. “There’s the fear of being discovered if she’s doing something illegal to survive. ... She may need to be in a certain place at a certain time so she can get something to eat, or maybe it’s the only time of the day that’s safe for her to sleep. They’re not going to tell you that. Yes, they understand there’s a problem, but it’s not an immediate threat, maybe they don’t feel bad yet, so obviously this is not urgent. ...

“What helps to gain trust is consistency,” she said. “Literally, it’s seeing that [disease specialist] constantly, daily. ... The woman can see that you’re not going to harm her, you’re saying, ‘I’m here at this time if you need me.’”

Ms. Yang stood outside the clinic, waiting for Angelica to show up, baking in the 90-degree heat. Her feelings ranged from irritation — Why didn’t she just go? I’d have more energy for other cases — to an appreciation for the parts of Angelica’s story that she didn’t know — She’s in survival mode. I need to be more patient.

Fifteen minutes ticked by, then 20.

“OK,” Ms. Yang announced. “We’re going back.”

She asked Sevilla if he would be OK if they drove Angelica to the clinic; they technically weren’t supposed to because of coronavirus precautions, but Ms. Yang wasn’t sure she could convince Angelica to walk. Mr. Sevilla gave her the thumbs up.

When they pulled up, they saw Angelica sitting in the backyard, chatting with a friend. She now wore a fresh T-shirt and had shoes on her feet. Angelica sat silently in the back seat as Ms. Yang drove to the clinic. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the parking lot.

Finally, Ms. Yang thought. We got her here.

The clinic was packed with people waiting for COVID-19 tests and vaccinations. A worker there had previously told Ms. Yang that a walk-in would be fine, but a receptionist now said they were too busy to treat Angelica. She would have to return.

Ms. Yang felt a surge of frustration, sensing that her hard-fought opportunity was slipping away. She tried to talk to the nurse supervisor, but he wasn’t available. She tried to leave the gift cards at the office to reward Angelica if she came, but the receptionist said she couldn’t hold them. While Ms. Yang negotiated, Mr. Sevilla sat with Angelica in the car, waiting.

Finally, Ms. Yang accepted this was yet another thing she couldn’t control.

She drove Angelica back to the yellow house. As they arrived, she tried once more to impress on her just how important it was to get treated, asking Mr. Sevilla to interpret. “We don’t want it to get any more serious, because she can go blind, she could go deaf, she could lose her baby.”

Angelica already had the door halfway open.

“So on a scale from one to 10, how important is this to get treated?” Ms. Yang asked.

“Ten,” Angelica said. Ms. Yang reminded her of the appointment that afternoon. Then Angelica stepped out and returned to the dusty yard.

Ms. Yang lingered for a moment, watching Angelica go. Then she turned the car back onto the highway and set off toward Fresno, knowing, already, that she’d be back.

Postscript: A reporter visited Huron twice more in the months that followed, including once independently to try to interview Angelica, but she wasn’t in town. Ms. Yang has visited Huron twice more as well — six times in total thus far. In October, a couple of men at the yellow house said Angelica was still in town, still pregnant. Ms. Yang and Mr. Sevilla spent an hour driving around, talking to residents, hoping to catch Angelica. But she was nowhere to be found.

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This story was originally published on ProPublica and was co-published with NPR.

When Mai Yang is looking for a patient, she travels light. She dresses deliberately — not too formal, so she won’t be mistaken for a police officer; not too casual, so people will look past her tiny 4-foot-10 stature and youthful face and trust her with sensitive health information. Always, she wears closed-toed shoes, “just in case I need to run.”

Yang carries a stack of cards issued by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that show what happens when the Treponema pallidum bacteria invades a patient’s body. There’s a photo of an angry red sore on a penis. There’s one of a tongue, marred by mucus-lined lesions. And there’s one of a newborn baby, its belly, torso and thighs dotted in a rash, its mouth open, as if caught midcry.

It was because of the prospect of one such baby that Yang found herself walking through a homeless encampment on a blazing July day in Huron, Calif., an hour’s drive southwest of her office at the Fresno County Department of Public Health. She was looking for a pregnant woman named Angelica, whose visit to a community clinic had triggered a report to the health department’s sexually transmitted disease program. Angelica had tested positive for syphilis. If she was not treated, her baby could end up like the one in the picture or worse — there was a 40% chance the baby would die.

Ms. Yang knew, though, that if she helped Angelica get treated with three weekly shots of penicillin at least 30 days before she gave birth, it was likely that the infection would be wiped out and her baby would be born without any symptoms at all. Every case of congenital syphilis, when a baby is born with the disease, is avoidable. Each is considered a “sentinel event,” a warning that the public health system is failing.

The alarms are now clamoring. In the United States, more than 129,800 syphilis cases were recorded in 2019, double the case count of five years prior. In the same time period, cases of congenital syphilis quadrupled: 1,870 babies were born with the disease; 128 died. Case counts from 2020 are still being finalized, but the CDC has said that reported cases of congenital syphilis have already exceeded the prior year. Black, Hispanic, and Native American babies are disproportionately at risk.

There was a time, not too long ago, when CDC officials thought they could eliminate the centuries-old scourge from the United States, for adults and babies. But the effort lost steam and cases soon crept up again. Syphilis is not an outlier. The United States goes through what former CDC director Dr. Tom Frieden calls “a deadly cycle of panic and neglect” in which emergencies propel officials to scramble and throw money at a problem — whether that’s Ebola, Zika, or COVID-19. Then, as fear ebbs, so does the attention and motivation to finish the task.

The last fraction of cases can be the hardest to solve, whether that’s eradicating a bug or getting vaccines into arms, yet too often, that’s exactly when political attention gets diverted to the next alarm. The result: The hardest to reach and most vulnerable populations are the ones left suffering, after everyone else looks away.

Ms. Yang first received Angelica’s lab report on June 17. The address listed was a P.O. box, and the phone number belonged to her sister, who said Angelica was living in Huron. That was a piece of luck: Huron is tiny; the city spans just 1.6 square miles. On her first visit, a worker at the Alamo Motel said she knew Angelica and directed Ms. Yang to a nearby homeless encampment. Angelica wasn’t there, so Ms. Yang returned a second time, bringing one of the health department nurses who could serve as an interpreter.

They made their way to the barren patch of land behind Huron Valley Foods, the local grocery store, where people took shelter in makeshift lean-tos composed of cardboard boxes, scrap wood ,and scavenged furniture, draped with sheets that served as ceilings and curtains. Yang stopped outside one of the structures, calling a greeting.

“Hi, I’m from the health department, I’m looking for Angelica.”

The nurse echoed her in Spanish.

Angelica emerged, squinting in the sunlight. Ms. Yang couldn’t tell if she was visibly pregnant yet, as her body was obscured by an oversized shirt. The two women were about the same age: Ms. Yang 26 and Angelica 27. Ms. Yang led her away from the tent, so they could speak privately. Angelica seemed reticent, surprised by the sudden appearance of the two health officers. “You’re not in trouble,” Ms. Yang said, before revealing the results of her blood test.

Angelica had never heard of syphilis.

“Have you been to prenatal care?”

Angelica shook her head. The local clinic had referred her to an obstetrician in Hanford, a 30-minute drive away. She had no car. She also mentioned that she didn’t intend to raise her baby; her two oldest children lived with her mother, and this one likely would, too.

Ms. Yang pulled out the CDC cards, showing them to Angelica and asking if she had experienced any of the symptoms illustrated. No, Angelica said, her lips pursed with disgust.

“Right now you still feel healthy, but this bacteria is still in your body,” Ms. Yang pressed. “You need to get the infection treated to prevent further health complications to yourself and your baby.”

The community clinic was just across the street. “Can we walk you over to the clinic and make sure you get seen so we can get this taken care of?”

Angelica demurred. She said she hadn’t showered for a week and wanted to wash up first. She said she’d go later.

Ms. Yang tried once more to extract a promise: “What time do you think you’ll go?”

“Today, for sure.”

Syphilis is called The Great Imitator: It can look like any number of diseases. In its first stage, the only evidence of infection is a painless sore at the bacteria’s point of entry. Weeks later, as the bacteria multiplies, skin rashes bloom on the palms of the hands and bottoms of the feet. Other traits of this stage include fever, headaches, muscle aches, sore throat, and fatigue. These symptoms eventually disappear and the patient progresses into the latent phase, which betrays no external signs. But if left untreated, after a decade or more, syphilis will reemerge in up to 30% of patients, capable of wreaking horror on a wide range of organ systems. Dr. Marion Sims, president of the American Medical Association in 1876, called it a “terrible scourge, which begins with lamb-like mildness and ends with lion-like rage that ruthlessly destroys everything in its way.”

The corkscrew-shaped bacteria can infiltrate the nervous system at any stage of the infection. Ms. Yang is haunted by her memory of interviewing a young man whose dementia was so severe that he didn’t know why he was in the hospital or how old he was. And regardless of symptoms or stage, the bacteria can penetrate the placenta to infect a fetus. Even in these cases the infection is unpredictable: Many babies are born with normal physical features, but others can have deformed bones or damaged brains, and they can struggle to hear, see, or breathe.

From its earliest days, syphilis has been shrouded in stigma. The first recorded outbreak was in the late 15th century, when Charles VIII led the French army to invade Naples. Italian physicians described French soldiers covered with pustules, dying from a sexually transmitted disease. As the affliction spread, Italians called it the French Disease. The French blamed the Neopolitans. It was also called the German, Polish, or Spanish disease, depending on which neighbor one wanted to blame. Even its name bears the taint of divine judgement: It comes from a 16th-century poem that tells of a shepherd, Syphilus, who offended the god Apollo and was punished with a hideous disease.

By 1937 in America, when former Surgeon General Thomas Parran wrote the book “Shadow on the Land,” he estimated some 680,000 people were under treatment for syphilis; about 60,000 babies were being born annually with congenital syphilis. There was no cure, and the stigma was so strong that public health officials feared even properly documenting cases.

Thanks to Dr. Parran’s ardent advocacy, Congress in 1938 passed the National Venereal Disease Control Act, which created grants for states to set up clinics and support testing and treatment. Other than a short-lived funding effort during World War I, this was the first coordinated federal push to respond to the disease.

Around the same time, the Public Health Service launched an effort to record the natural history of syphilis. Situated in Tuskegee, Ala., the infamous study recruited 600 black men. By the early 1940s, penicillin became widely available and was found to be a reliable cure, but the treatment was withheld from the study participants. Outrage over the ethical violations would cast a stain across syphilis research for decades to come and fuel generations of mistrust in the medical system among Black Americans that continues to this day.

With the introduction of penicillin, cases began to plummet. Twice, the CDC has announced efforts to wipe out the disease — once in the 1960s and again in 1999.

In the latest effort, the CDC announced that the United States had “a unique opportunity to eliminate syphilis within its borders,” thanks to historically low rates, with 80% of counties reporting zero cases. The concentration of cases in the South “identifies communities in which there is a fundamental failure of public health capacity,” the agency noted, adding that elimination — which it defined as fewer than 1,000 cases a year — would “decrease one of our most glaring racial disparities in health.”

Two years after the campaign began, cases started climbing, first among gay men and later, heterosexuals. Cases in women started accelerating in 2013, followed shortly by increasing numbers of babies born with syphilis.The reasons for failure are complex; people relaxed safer sex practices after the advent of potent HIV combination therapies, increased methamphetamine use drove riskier behavior and an explosion of online dating made it hard to track and test sexual partners, according to Dr. Ina Park, medical director of the California Prevention Training Center at the University of California San Francisco.

But federal and state public health efforts were hamstrung from the get-go. In 1999, the CDC said it would need about $35 million to $39 million in new federal funds annually for at least five years to eliminate syphilis. The agency got less than half of what it asked for, according to Jo Valentine, former program coordinator of the CDC’s Syphilis Elimination Effort. As cases rose, the CDC modified its goals in 2006 from 0.4 primary and secondary syphilis cases per 100,000 in population to 2.2 cases per 100,000. By 2013, as elimination seemed less and less viable, the CDC changed its focus to ending congenital syphilis only.

Since then, funding has remained anemic. From 2015 to 2020, the CDC’s budget for preventing sexually transmitted infections grew by 2.2%. Taking inflation into account, that’s a 7.4% reduction in purchasing power. In the same period, cases of syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia — the three STDs that have federally funded control programs — increased by nearly 30%.

“We have a long history of nearly eradicating something, then changing our attention, and seeing a resurgence in numbers,” said David Harvey, executive director of the National Coalition of STD Directors. “We have more congenital syphilis cases today in America than we ever had pediatric AIDS at the height of the AIDS epidemic. It’s heartbreaking.”

Adriane Casalotti, chief of government and public affairs at the National Association of County and City Health Officials, warns that the United States should not be surprised to see case counts continue to climb. “The bugs don’t go away,” she said. “They’re just waiting for the next opportunity, when you’re not paying attention.”

Ms. Yang waited until the end of the day, then called the clinic to see if Angelica had gone for her shot. She had not. Ms. Yang would have to block off another half day to visit Huron again, but she had three dozen other cases to deal with.

States in the South and West have seen the highest syphilis rates in recent years. In 2017, 64 babies in Fresno County were born with syphilis at a rate of 440 babies per 100,000 live births — about 19 times the national rate. While the county had managed to lower case counts in the two years that followed, the pandemic threatened to unravel that progress, forcing STD staffers to do COVID-19 contact tracing, pausing field visits to find infected people, and scaring patients from seeking care. Ms. Yang’s colleague handled three cases of stillbirth in 2020; in each, the woman was never diagnosed with syphilis because she feared catching the coronavirus and skipped prenatal care.

Ms. Yang, whose caseload peaked at 70 during a COVID-19 surge, knew she would not be able handle them all as thoroughly as she’d like to. “When I was being mentored by another investigator, he said: ‘You’re not a superhero. You can’t save everybody,’” she said. She prioritizes men who have sex with men, because there’s a higher prevalence of syphilis in that population, and pregnant people, because of the horrific consequences for babies.

The job of a disease intervention specialist isn’t for everyone: It means meeting patients whenever and wherever they are available — in the mop closet of a bus station, in a quiet parking lot — to inform them about the disease, to extract names of sex partners and to encourage treatment. Patients are often reluctant to talk. They can get belligerent, upset that “the government” has their personal information or shattered at the thought that a partner is likely cheating on them. Salaries typically start in the low $40,000s.

Jena Adams, Ms. Yang’s supervisor, has eight investigators working on HIV and syphilis. In the middle of 2020, she lost two and replaced them only recently. “It’s been exhausting,” Ms. Adams said. She has only one specialist who is trained to take blood samples in the field, crucial for guaranteeing that the partners of those who test positive for syphilis also get tested. Ms. Adams wants to get phlebotomy training for the rest of her staff, but it’s $2,000 per person. The department also doesn’t have anyone who can administer penicillin injections in the field; that would have been key when Ms. Yang met Angelica. For a while, a nurse who worked in the tuberculosis program would ride along to give penicillin shots on a volunteer basis. Then he, too, left the health department.

Much of the resources in public health trickle down from the CDC, which distributes money to states, which then parcel it out to counties. The CDC gets its budget from Congress, which tells the agency, by line item, exactly how much money it can spend to fight a disease or virus, in an uncommonly specific manner not seen in many other agencies. The decisions are often politically driven and can be detached from actual health needs.

When the House and Senate appropriations committees meet to decide how much the CDC will get for each line item, they are barraged by lobbyists for individual disease interests. Stephanie Arnold Pang, senior director of policy and government relations at the National Coalition of STD Directors, can pick out the groups by sight: breast cancer wears pink, Alzheimer’s goes in purple, multiple sclerosis comes in orange, HIV in red. STD prevention advocates, like herself, don a green ribbon, but they’re far outnumbered.

And unlike diseases that might already be familiar to lawmakers, or have patient and family spokespeople who can tell their own powerful stories, syphilis doesn’t have many willing poster children. “Congressmen don’t wake up one day and say, ‘Oh hey, there’s congenital syphilis in my jurisdiction.’ You have to raise awareness,” Arnold Pang said. It can be hard jockeying for a meeting. “Some offices might say, ‘I don’t have time for you because we’ve just seen HIV.’ ... Sometimes, it feels like you’re talking into a void.”

The consequences of the political nature of public health funding have become more obvious during the coronavirus pandemic. The 2014 Ebola epidemic was seen as a “global wakeup call” that the world wasn’t prepared for a major pandemic, yet in 2018, the CDC scaled back its epidemic prevention work as money ran out. “If you’ve got to choose between Alzheimer’s research and stopping an outbreak that may not happen? Stopping an outbreak that might not happen doesn’t do well,” said Dr. Frieden, the former CDC director. “The CDC needs to have more money and more flexible money. Otherwise, we’re going to be in this situation long term.”

In May 2021, President Joe Biden’s administration announced it would set aside $7.4 billion over the next five years to hire and train public health workers, including $1.1 billion for more disease intervention specialists like Ms. Yang. Public health officials are thrilled to have the chance to expand their workforce, but some worry the time horizon may be too short. “We’ve seen this movie before, right?” Dr. Frieden said. “Everyone gets concerned when there’s an outbreak, and when that outbreak stops, the headlines stop, and an economic downturn happens, the budget gets cut.”

Fresno’s STD clinic was shuttered in 2010 amid the Great Recession. Many others have vanished since the passage of the Affordable Care Act. Health leaders thought “by magically beefing up the primary care system, that we would do a better job of catching STIs and treating them,” said Mr. Harvey, the executive director of the National Coalition of STD Directors. That hasn’t worked out; people want access to anonymous services, and primary care doctors often don’t have STDs top of mind. The coalition is lobbying Congress for funding to support STD clinical services, proposing a three-year demonstration project funded at $600 million.

It’s one of Ms. Adams’ dreams to see Fresno’s STD clinic restored as it was. “You could come in for an HIV test and get other STDs checked,” she said. “And if a patient is positive, you can give a first injection on the spot.”

On Aug. 12, Ms. Yang set out for Huron again, speeding past groves of almond trees and fields of grapes in the department’s white Chevy Cruze. She brought along a colleague, Jorge Sevilla, who had recently transferred to the STD program from COVID-19 contact tracing. Ms. Yang was anxious to find Angelica again. “She’s probably in her second trimester now,” she said.

They found her outside of a pale yellow house a few blocks from the homeless encampment; the owner was letting her stay in a shed tucked in the corner of the dirt yard. This time, it was evident that she was pregnant. Ms. Yang noted that Angelica was wearing a wig; hair loss is a symptom of syphilis.

“Do you remember me?” Ms. Yang asked.

Angelica nodded. She didn’t seem surprised to see Ms. Yang again. (I came along, and Mr. Sevilla explained who I was and that I was writing about syphilis and the people affected by it. Angelica signed a release for me to report about her case, and she said she had no problem with me writing about her or even using her full name. ProPublica chose to only print her first name.)

“How are you doing? How’s the baby?”

“Bien.”

“So the last time we talked, we were going to have you go to United Healthcare Center to get treatment. Have you gone since?”

Angelica shook her head.

“We brought some gift cards...” Mr. Sevilla started in Spanish. The department uses them as incentives for completing injections. But Angelica was already shaking her head. The nearest Walmart was the next town over.

Ms. Yang turned to her partner. “Tell her: So the reason why we’re coming out here again is because we really need her to go in for treatment. ... We really are concerned for the baby’s health especially since she’s had the infection for quite a while.”

Angelica listened while Mr. Sevilla interpreted, her eyes on the ground. Then she looked up. “Orita?” she asked. Right now?

“I’ll walk with you,” Ms. Yang offered. Angelica shook her head. “She said she wants to shower first before she goes over there,” Mr. Sevilla said.

Ms. Yang made a face. “She said that to me last time.” Ms. Yang offered to wait, but Angelica didn’t want the health officers to linger by the house. She said she would meet them by the clinic in 15 minutes.

Ms. Yang was reluctant to let her go but again had no other option. She and Mr. Sevilla drove to the clinic, then stood on the corner of the parking lot, staring down the road.

Talk to the pediatricians, obstetricians, and families on the front lines of the congenital syphilis surge and it becomes clear why Ms. Yang and others are trying so desperately to prevent cases. Dr. J. B. Cantey, associate professor in pediatrics at UT Health San Antonio, remembers a baby girl born at 25 weeks gestation who weighed a pound and a half. Syphilis had spread through her bones and lungs. She spent five months in the neonatal intensive care unit, breathing through a ventilator, and was still eating through a tube when she was discharged.

Then, there are the miscarriages, the stillbirths and the inconsolable parents. Dr. Irene Stafford, an associate professor and maternal-fetal medicine specialist at UT Health in Houston, cannot forget a patient who came in at 36 weeks for a routine checkup, pregnant with her first child. Dr. Stafford realized that there was no heartbeat. “She could see on my face that something was really wrong,” Dr. Stafford recalled. She had to let the patient know that syphilis had killed her baby. “She was hysterical, just bawling,” Dr. Stafford said. “I’ve seen people’s families ripped apart and I’ve seen beautiful babies die.” Fewer than 10% of patients who experience a stillbirth are tested for syphilis, suggesting that cases are underdiagnosed.

A Texas grandmother named Solidad Odunuga offers a glimpse into what the future could hold for Angelica’s mother, who may wind up raising her baby.

In February of last year, Ms. Odunuga got a call from the Lyndon B. Johnson Hospital in Houston. A nurse told her that her daughter was about to give birth and that child protective services had been called. Ms. Odunuga had lost contact with her daughter, who struggled with homelessness and substance abuse. She arrived in time to see her grandson delivered, premature at 30 weeks old, weighing 2.7 pounds. He tested positive for syphilis.

When a child protective worker asked Ms. Odunuga to take custody of the infant, she felt a wave of dread. “I was in denial,” she recalled. “I did not plan to be a mom again.” The baby’s medical problems were daunting: “Global developmental delays ... concerns for visual impairments ... high risk of cerebral palsy,” read a note from the doctor at the time.

Still, Ms. Odunuga visited her grandson every day for three months, driving to the NICU from her job at the University of Houston. “I’d put him in my shirt to keep him warm and hold him there.” She fell in love. She named him Emmanuel.

Once Emmanuel was discharged, Ms. Odunuga realized she had no choice but to quit her job. While Medicaid covered the costs of Emmanuel’s treatment, it was on her to care for him. From infancy, Emmanuel’s life has been a whirlwind of constant therapy. Today, at 20 months old, Odunuga brings him to physical, occupational, speech, and developmental therapy, each a different appointment on a different day of the week.

Emmanuel has thrived beyond what his doctors predicted, toddling so fast that Ms. Odunuga can’t look away for a minute and beaming as he waves his favorite toy phone. Yet he still suffers from gagging issues, which means Ms. Odunuga can’t feed him any solid foods. Liquid gets into his lungs when he aspirates; it has led to pneumonia three times. Emmanuel has a special stroller that helps keep his head in a position that won’t aggravate his persistent reflux, but Odunuga said she still has to pull over on the side of the road sometimes when she hears him projectile vomiting from the backseat.

The days are endless. Once she puts Emmanuel to bed, Ms. Odunuga starts planning the next day’s appointments. “I’ve had to cry alone, scream out alone,” she said. “Sometimes I wake up and think, Is this real? And then I hear him in the next room.”

Putting aside the challenge of eliminating syphilis entirely, everyone agrees it’s both doable and necessary to prevent newborn cases. “There was a crisis in perinatal HIV almost 30 years ago and people stood up and said this is not OK — it’s not acceptable for babies to be born in that condition. ... [We] brought it down from 1,700 babies born each year with perinatal HIV to less than 40 per year today,” said Virginia Bowen, an epidemiologist at the CDC. “Now here we are with a slightly different condition. We can also stand up and say, ‘This is not acceptable.’” Belarus, Bermuda, Cuba, Malaysia, Thailand, and Sri Lanka are among countries recognized by the World Health Organization for eliminating congenital syphilis.

Success starts with filling gaps across the health care system.

For almost a century, public health experts have advocated for testing pregnant patients more than once for syphilis in order to catch the infection. But policies nationwide still don’t reflect this best practice. Six states have no prenatal screening requirement at all. Even in states that require three tests, public health officials say that many physicians aren’t aware of the requirements. Dr. Stafford, the maternal-fetal medicine specialist in Houston, says she’s tired of hearing her own peers in medicine tell her, “Oh, syphilis is a problem?”

It costs public health departments less than 25 cents a dose to buy penicillin, but for a private practice, it’s more than $1,000, according to Dr. Park of the University of California San Francisco. “There’s no incentive for a private physician to stock a dose that could expire before it’s used, so they often don’t have it. So a woman comes in, they say, ‘We’ll send you to the emergency department or health department to get it,’ then [the patients] don’t show up.”

A vaccine would be invaluable for preventing spread among people at high risk for reinfection. But there is none. Scientists only recently figured out how to grow the bacteria in the lab, prompting grants from the National Institutes of Health to fund research into a vaccine. Dr. Justin Radolf, a researcher at the University of Connecticut School of Medicine, said he hopes his team will have a vaccine candidate by the end of its five-year grant. But it’ll likely take years more to find a manufacturer and run human trials.

Public health agencies also need to recognize that many of the hurdles to getting pregnant people treated involve access to care, economic stability, safe housing and transportation. In Fresno, Ms. Adams has been working on ways her department can collaborate with mental health services. Recently, one of her disease intervention specialists managed to get a pregnant woman treated with penicillin shots and, at the patient’s request, connected her with an addiction treatment center.

Gaining a patient’s cooperation means seeing them as complex humans instead of just a case to solve. “There may be past traumas with the health care system,” said Cynthia Deverson, project manager of the Houston Fetal Infant Morbidity Review. “There’s the fear of being discovered if she’s doing something illegal to survive. ... She may need to be in a certain place at a certain time so she can get something to eat, or maybe it’s the only time of the day that’s safe for her to sleep. They’re not going to tell you that. Yes, they understand there’s a problem, but it’s not an immediate threat, maybe they don’t feel bad yet, so obviously this is not urgent. ...

“What helps to gain trust is consistency,” she said. “Literally, it’s seeing that [disease specialist] constantly, daily. ... The woman can see that you’re not going to harm her, you’re saying, ‘I’m here at this time if you need me.’”

Ms. Yang stood outside the clinic, waiting for Angelica to show up, baking in the 90-degree heat. Her feelings ranged from irritation — Why didn’t she just go? I’d have more energy for other cases — to an appreciation for the parts of Angelica’s story that she didn’t know — She’s in survival mode. I need to be more patient.

Fifteen minutes ticked by, then 20.

“OK,” Ms. Yang announced. “We’re going back.”

She asked Sevilla if he would be OK if they drove Angelica to the clinic; they technically weren’t supposed to because of coronavirus precautions, but Ms. Yang wasn’t sure she could convince Angelica to walk. Mr. Sevilla gave her the thumbs up.

When they pulled up, they saw Angelica sitting in the backyard, chatting with a friend. She now wore a fresh T-shirt and had shoes on her feet. Angelica sat silently in the back seat as Ms. Yang drove to the clinic. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the parking lot.

Finally, Ms. Yang thought. We got her here.

The clinic was packed with people waiting for COVID-19 tests and vaccinations. A worker there had previously told Ms. Yang that a walk-in would be fine, but a receptionist now said they were too busy to treat Angelica. She would have to return.

Ms. Yang felt a surge of frustration, sensing that her hard-fought opportunity was slipping away. She tried to talk to the nurse supervisor, but he wasn’t available. She tried to leave the gift cards at the office to reward Angelica if she came, but the receptionist said she couldn’t hold them. While Ms. Yang negotiated, Mr. Sevilla sat with Angelica in the car, waiting.

Finally, Ms. Yang accepted this was yet another thing she couldn’t control.

She drove Angelica back to the yellow house. As they arrived, she tried once more to impress on her just how important it was to get treated, asking Mr. Sevilla to interpret. “We don’t want it to get any more serious, because she can go blind, she could go deaf, she could lose her baby.”

Angelica already had the door halfway open.

“So on a scale from one to 10, how important is this to get treated?” Ms. Yang asked.

“Ten,” Angelica said. Ms. Yang reminded her of the appointment that afternoon. Then Angelica stepped out and returned to the dusty yard.

Ms. Yang lingered for a moment, watching Angelica go. Then she turned the car back onto the highway and set off toward Fresno, knowing, already, that she’d be back.

Postscript: A reporter visited Huron twice more in the months that followed, including once independently to try to interview Angelica, but she wasn’t in town. Ms. Yang has visited Huron twice more as well — six times in total thus far. In October, a couple of men at the yellow house said Angelica was still in town, still pregnant. Ms. Yang and Mr. Sevilla spent an hour driving around, talking to residents, hoping to catch Angelica. But she was nowhere to be found.

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This story was originally published on ProPublica and was co-published with NPR.

When Mai Yang is looking for a patient, she travels light. She dresses deliberately — not too formal, so she won’t be mistaken for a police officer; not too casual, so people will look past her tiny 4-foot-10 stature and youthful face and trust her with sensitive health information. Always, she wears closed-toed shoes, “just in case I need to run.”

Yang carries a stack of cards issued by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that show what happens when the Treponema pallidum bacteria invades a patient’s body. There’s a photo of an angry red sore on a penis. There’s one of a tongue, marred by mucus-lined lesions. And there’s one of a newborn baby, its belly, torso and thighs dotted in a rash, its mouth open, as if caught midcry.

It was because of the prospect of one such baby that Yang found herself walking through a homeless encampment on a blazing July day in Huron, Calif., an hour’s drive southwest of her office at the Fresno County Department of Public Health. She was looking for a pregnant woman named Angelica, whose visit to a community clinic had triggered a report to the health department’s sexually transmitted disease program. Angelica had tested positive for syphilis. If she was not treated, her baby could end up like the one in the picture or worse — there was a 40% chance the baby would die.

Ms. Yang knew, though, that if she helped Angelica get treated with three weekly shots of penicillin at least 30 days before she gave birth, it was likely that the infection would be wiped out and her baby would be born without any symptoms at all. Every case of congenital syphilis, when a baby is born with the disease, is avoidable. Each is considered a “sentinel event,” a warning that the public health system is failing.

The alarms are now clamoring. In the United States, more than 129,800 syphilis cases were recorded in 2019, double the case count of five years prior. In the same time period, cases of congenital syphilis quadrupled: 1,870 babies were born with the disease; 128 died. Case counts from 2020 are still being finalized, but the CDC has said that reported cases of congenital syphilis have already exceeded the prior year. Black, Hispanic, and Native American babies are disproportionately at risk.

There was a time, not too long ago, when CDC officials thought they could eliminate the centuries-old scourge from the United States, for adults and babies. But the effort lost steam and cases soon crept up again. Syphilis is not an outlier. The United States goes through what former CDC director Dr. Tom Frieden calls “a deadly cycle of panic and neglect” in which emergencies propel officials to scramble and throw money at a problem — whether that’s Ebola, Zika, or COVID-19. Then, as fear ebbs, so does the attention and motivation to finish the task.

The last fraction of cases can be the hardest to solve, whether that’s eradicating a bug or getting vaccines into arms, yet too often, that’s exactly when political attention gets diverted to the next alarm. The result: The hardest to reach and most vulnerable populations are the ones left suffering, after everyone else looks away.

Ms. Yang first received Angelica’s lab report on June 17. The address listed was a P.O. box, and the phone number belonged to her sister, who said Angelica was living in Huron. That was a piece of luck: Huron is tiny; the city spans just 1.6 square miles. On her first visit, a worker at the Alamo Motel said she knew Angelica and directed Ms. Yang to a nearby homeless encampment. Angelica wasn’t there, so Ms. Yang returned a second time, bringing one of the health department nurses who could serve as an interpreter.

They made their way to the barren patch of land behind Huron Valley Foods, the local grocery store, where people took shelter in makeshift lean-tos composed of cardboard boxes, scrap wood ,and scavenged furniture, draped with sheets that served as ceilings and curtains. Yang stopped outside one of the structures, calling a greeting.

“Hi, I’m from the health department, I’m looking for Angelica.”

The nurse echoed her in Spanish.

Angelica emerged, squinting in the sunlight. Ms. Yang couldn’t tell if she was visibly pregnant yet, as her body was obscured by an oversized shirt. The two women were about the same age: Ms. Yang 26 and Angelica 27. Ms. Yang led her away from the tent, so they could speak privately. Angelica seemed reticent, surprised by the sudden appearance of the two health officers. “You’re not in trouble,” Ms. Yang said, before revealing the results of her blood test.

Angelica had never heard of syphilis.

“Have you been to prenatal care?”

Angelica shook her head. The local clinic had referred her to an obstetrician in Hanford, a 30-minute drive away. She had no car. She also mentioned that she didn’t intend to raise her baby; her two oldest children lived with her mother, and this one likely would, too.

Ms. Yang pulled out the CDC cards, showing them to Angelica and asking if she had experienced any of the symptoms illustrated. No, Angelica said, her lips pursed with disgust.

“Right now you still feel healthy, but this bacteria is still in your body,” Ms. Yang pressed. “You need to get the infection treated to prevent further health complications to yourself and your baby.”

The community clinic was just across the street. “Can we walk you over to the clinic and make sure you get seen so we can get this taken care of?”

Angelica demurred. She said she hadn’t showered for a week and wanted to wash up first. She said she’d go later.

Ms. Yang tried once more to extract a promise: “What time do you think you’ll go?”

“Today, for sure.”

Syphilis is called The Great Imitator: It can look like any number of diseases. In its first stage, the only evidence of infection is a painless sore at the bacteria’s point of entry. Weeks later, as the bacteria multiplies, skin rashes bloom on the palms of the hands and bottoms of the feet. Other traits of this stage include fever, headaches, muscle aches, sore throat, and fatigue. These symptoms eventually disappear and the patient progresses into the latent phase, which betrays no external signs. But if left untreated, after a decade or more, syphilis will reemerge in up to 30% of patients, capable of wreaking horror on a wide range of organ systems. Dr. Marion Sims, president of the American Medical Association in 1876, called it a “terrible scourge, which begins with lamb-like mildness and ends with lion-like rage that ruthlessly destroys everything in its way.”

The corkscrew-shaped bacteria can infiltrate the nervous system at any stage of the infection. Ms. Yang is haunted by her memory of interviewing a young man whose dementia was so severe that he didn’t know why he was in the hospital or how old he was. And regardless of symptoms or stage, the bacteria can penetrate the placenta to infect a fetus. Even in these cases the infection is unpredictable: Many babies are born with normal physical features, but others can have deformed bones or damaged brains, and they can struggle to hear, see, or breathe.

From its earliest days, syphilis has been shrouded in stigma. The first recorded outbreak was in the late 15th century, when Charles VIII led the French army to invade Naples. Italian physicians described French soldiers covered with pustules, dying from a sexually transmitted disease. As the affliction spread, Italians called it the French Disease. The French blamed the Neopolitans. It was also called the German, Polish, or Spanish disease, depending on which neighbor one wanted to blame. Even its name bears the taint of divine judgement: It comes from a 16th-century poem that tells of a shepherd, Syphilus, who offended the god Apollo and was punished with a hideous disease.

By 1937 in America, when former Surgeon General Thomas Parran wrote the book “Shadow on the Land,” he estimated some 680,000 people were under treatment for syphilis; about 60,000 babies were being born annually with congenital syphilis. There was no cure, and the stigma was so strong that public health officials feared even properly documenting cases.

Thanks to Dr. Parran’s ardent advocacy, Congress in 1938 passed the National Venereal Disease Control Act, which created grants for states to set up clinics and support testing and treatment. Other than a short-lived funding effort during World War I, this was the first coordinated federal push to respond to the disease.

Around the same time, the Public Health Service launched an effort to record the natural history of syphilis. Situated in Tuskegee, Ala., the infamous study recruited 600 black men. By the early 1940s, penicillin became widely available and was found to be a reliable cure, but the treatment was withheld from the study participants. Outrage over the ethical violations would cast a stain across syphilis research for decades to come and fuel generations of mistrust in the medical system among Black Americans that continues to this day.

With the introduction of penicillin, cases began to plummet. Twice, the CDC has announced efforts to wipe out the disease — once in the 1960s and again in 1999.

In the latest effort, the CDC announced that the United States had “a unique opportunity to eliminate syphilis within its borders,” thanks to historically low rates, with 80% of counties reporting zero cases. The concentration of cases in the South “identifies communities in which there is a fundamental failure of public health capacity,” the agency noted, adding that elimination — which it defined as fewer than 1,000 cases a year — would “decrease one of our most glaring racial disparities in health.”

Two years after the campaign began, cases started climbing, first among gay men and later, heterosexuals. Cases in women started accelerating in 2013, followed shortly by increasing numbers of babies born with syphilis.The reasons for failure are complex; people relaxed safer sex practices after the advent of potent HIV combination therapies, increased methamphetamine use drove riskier behavior and an explosion of online dating made it hard to track and test sexual partners, according to Dr. Ina Park, medical director of the California Prevention Training Center at the University of California San Francisco.

But federal and state public health efforts were hamstrung from the get-go. In 1999, the CDC said it would need about $35 million to $39 million in new federal funds annually for at least five years to eliminate syphilis. The agency got less than half of what it asked for, according to Jo Valentine, former program coordinator of the CDC’s Syphilis Elimination Effort. As cases rose, the CDC modified its goals in 2006 from 0.4 primary and secondary syphilis cases per 100,000 in population to 2.2 cases per 100,000. By 2013, as elimination seemed less and less viable, the CDC changed its focus to ending congenital syphilis only.

Since then, funding has remained anemic. From 2015 to 2020, the CDC’s budget for preventing sexually transmitted infections grew by 2.2%. Taking inflation into account, that’s a 7.4% reduction in purchasing power. In the same period, cases of syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia — the three STDs that have federally funded control programs — increased by nearly 30%.

“We have a long history of nearly eradicating something, then changing our attention, and seeing a resurgence in numbers,” said David Harvey, executive director of the National Coalition of STD Directors. “We have more congenital syphilis cases today in America than we ever had pediatric AIDS at the height of the AIDS epidemic. It’s heartbreaking.”

Adriane Casalotti, chief of government and public affairs at the National Association of County and City Health Officials, warns that the United States should not be surprised to see case counts continue to climb. “The bugs don’t go away,” she said. “They’re just waiting for the next opportunity, when you’re not paying attention.”

Ms. Yang waited until the end of the day, then called the clinic to see if Angelica had gone for her shot. She had not. Ms. Yang would have to block off another half day to visit Huron again, but she had three dozen other cases to deal with.

States in the South and West have seen the highest syphilis rates in recent years. In 2017, 64 babies in Fresno County were born with syphilis at a rate of 440 babies per 100,000 live births — about 19 times the national rate. While the county had managed to lower case counts in the two years that followed, the pandemic threatened to unravel that progress, forcing STD staffers to do COVID-19 contact tracing, pausing field visits to find infected people, and scaring patients from seeking care. Ms. Yang’s colleague handled three cases of stillbirth in 2020; in each, the woman was never diagnosed with syphilis because she feared catching the coronavirus and skipped prenatal care.

Ms. Yang, whose caseload peaked at 70 during a COVID-19 surge, knew she would not be able handle them all as thoroughly as she’d like to. “When I was being mentored by another investigator, he said: ‘You’re not a superhero. You can’t save everybody,’” she said. She prioritizes men who have sex with men, because there’s a higher prevalence of syphilis in that population, and pregnant people, because of the horrific consequences for babies.

The job of a disease intervention specialist isn’t for everyone: It means meeting patients whenever and wherever they are available — in the mop closet of a bus station, in a quiet parking lot — to inform them about the disease, to extract names of sex partners and to encourage treatment. Patients are often reluctant to talk. They can get belligerent, upset that “the government” has their personal information or shattered at the thought that a partner is likely cheating on them. Salaries typically start in the low $40,000s.

Jena Adams, Ms. Yang’s supervisor, has eight investigators working on HIV and syphilis. In the middle of 2020, she lost two and replaced them only recently. “It’s been exhausting,” Ms. Adams said. She has only one specialist who is trained to take blood samples in the field, crucial for guaranteeing that the partners of those who test positive for syphilis also get tested. Ms. Adams wants to get phlebotomy training for the rest of her staff, but it’s $2,000 per person. The department also doesn’t have anyone who can administer penicillin injections in the field; that would have been key when Ms. Yang met Angelica. For a while, a nurse who worked in the tuberculosis program would ride along to give penicillin shots on a volunteer basis. Then he, too, left the health department.

Much of the resources in public health trickle down from the CDC, which distributes money to states, which then parcel it out to counties. The CDC gets its budget from Congress, which tells the agency, by line item, exactly how much money it can spend to fight a disease or virus, in an uncommonly specific manner not seen in many other agencies. The decisions are often politically driven and can be detached from actual health needs.

When the House and Senate appropriations committees meet to decide how much the CDC will get for each line item, they are barraged by lobbyists for individual disease interests. Stephanie Arnold Pang, senior director of policy and government relations at the National Coalition of STD Directors, can pick out the groups by sight: breast cancer wears pink, Alzheimer’s goes in purple, multiple sclerosis comes in orange, HIV in red. STD prevention advocates, like herself, don a green ribbon, but they’re far outnumbered.

And unlike diseases that might already be familiar to lawmakers, or have patient and family spokespeople who can tell their own powerful stories, syphilis doesn’t have many willing poster children. “Congressmen don’t wake up one day and say, ‘Oh hey, there’s congenital syphilis in my jurisdiction.’ You have to raise awareness,” Arnold Pang said. It can be hard jockeying for a meeting. “Some offices might say, ‘I don’t have time for you because we’ve just seen HIV.’ ... Sometimes, it feels like you’re talking into a void.”

The consequences of the political nature of public health funding have become more obvious during the coronavirus pandemic. The 2014 Ebola epidemic was seen as a “global wakeup call” that the world wasn’t prepared for a major pandemic, yet in 2018, the CDC scaled back its epidemic prevention work as money ran out. “If you’ve got to choose between Alzheimer’s research and stopping an outbreak that may not happen? Stopping an outbreak that might not happen doesn’t do well,” said Dr. Frieden, the former CDC director. “The CDC needs to have more money and more flexible money. Otherwise, we’re going to be in this situation long term.”

In May 2021, President Joe Biden’s administration announced it would set aside $7.4 billion over the next five years to hire and train public health workers, including $1.1 billion for more disease intervention specialists like Ms. Yang. Public health officials are thrilled to have the chance to expand their workforce, but some worry the time horizon may be too short. “We’ve seen this movie before, right?” Dr. Frieden said. “Everyone gets concerned when there’s an outbreak, and when that outbreak stops, the headlines stop, and an economic downturn happens, the budget gets cut.”

Fresno’s STD clinic was shuttered in 2010 amid the Great Recession. Many others have vanished since the passage of the Affordable Care Act. Health leaders thought “by magically beefing up the primary care system, that we would do a better job of catching STIs and treating them,” said Mr. Harvey, the executive director of the National Coalition of STD Directors. That hasn’t worked out; people want access to anonymous services, and primary care doctors often don’t have STDs top of mind. The coalition is lobbying Congress for funding to support STD clinical services, proposing a three-year demonstration project funded at $600 million.

It’s one of Ms. Adams’ dreams to see Fresno’s STD clinic restored as it was. “You could come in for an HIV test and get other STDs checked,” she said. “And if a patient is positive, you can give a first injection on the spot.”

On Aug. 12, Ms. Yang set out for Huron again, speeding past groves of almond trees and fields of grapes in the department’s white Chevy Cruze. She brought along a colleague, Jorge Sevilla, who had recently transferred to the STD program from COVID-19 contact tracing. Ms. Yang was anxious to find Angelica again. “She’s probably in her second trimester now,” she said.

They found her outside of a pale yellow house a few blocks from the homeless encampment; the owner was letting her stay in a shed tucked in the corner of the dirt yard. This time, it was evident that she was pregnant. Ms. Yang noted that Angelica was wearing a wig; hair loss is a symptom of syphilis.

“Do you remember me?” Ms. Yang asked.

Angelica nodded. She didn’t seem surprised to see Ms. Yang again. (I came along, and Mr. Sevilla explained who I was and that I was writing about syphilis and the people affected by it. Angelica signed a release for me to report about her case, and she said she had no problem with me writing about her or even using her full name. ProPublica chose to only print her first name.)

“How are you doing? How’s the baby?”

“Bien.”

“So the last time we talked, we were going to have you go to United Healthcare Center to get treatment. Have you gone since?”

Angelica shook her head.

“We brought some gift cards...” Mr. Sevilla started in Spanish. The department uses them as incentives for completing injections. But Angelica was already shaking her head. The nearest Walmart was the next town over.

Ms. Yang turned to her partner. “Tell her: So the reason why we’re coming out here again is because we really need her to go in for treatment. ... We really are concerned for the baby’s health especially since she’s had the infection for quite a while.”

Angelica listened while Mr. Sevilla interpreted, her eyes on the ground. Then she looked up. “Orita?” she asked. Right now?

“I’ll walk with you,” Ms. Yang offered. Angelica shook her head. “She said she wants to shower first before she goes over there,” Mr. Sevilla said.

Ms. Yang made a face. “She said that to me last time.” Ms. Yang offered to wait, but Angelica didn’t want the health officers to linger by the house. She said she would meet them by the clinic in 15 minutes.

Ms. Yang was reluctant to let her go but again had no other option. She and Mr. Sevilla drove to the clinic, then stood on the corner of the parking lot, staring down the road.

Talk to the pediatricians, obstetricians, and families on the front lines of the congenital syphilis surge and it becomes clear why Ms. Yang and others are trying so desperately to prevent cases. Dr. J. B. Cantey, associate professor in pediatrics at UT Health San Antonio, remembers a baby girl born at 25 weeks gestation who weighed a pound and a half. Syphilis had spread through her bones and lungs. She spent five months in the neonatal intensive care unit, breathing through a ventilator, and was still eating through a tube when she was discharged.

Then, there are the miscarriages, the stillbirths and the inconsolable parents. Dr. Irene Stafford, an associate professor and maternal-fetal medicine specialist at UT Health in Houston, cannot forget a patient who came in at 36 weeks for a routine checkup, pregnant with her first child. Dr. Stafford realized that there was no heartbeat. “She could see on my face that something was really wrong,” Dr. Stafford recalled. She had to let the patient know that syphilis had killed her baby. “She was hysterical, just bawling,” Dr. Stafford said. “I’ve seen people’s families ripped apart and I’ve seen beautiful babies die.” Fewer than 10% of patients who experience a stillbirth are tested for syphilis, suggesting that cases are underdiagnosed.

A Texas grandmother named Solidad Odunuga offers a glimpse into what the future could hold for Angelica’s mother, who may wind up raising her baby.

In February of last year, Ms. Odunuga got a call from the Lyndon B. Johnson Hospital in Houston. A nurse told her that her daughter was about to give birth and that child protective services had been called. Ms. Odunuga had lost contact with her daughter, who struggled with homelessness and substance abuse. She arrived in time to see her grandson delivered, premature at 30 weeks old, weighing 2.7 pounds. He tested positive for syphilis.

When a child protective worker asked Ms. Odunuga to take custody of the infant, she felt a wave of dread. “I was in denial,” she recalled. “I did not plan to be a mom again.” The baby’s medical problems were daunting: “Global developmental delays ... concerns for visual impairments ... high risk of cerebral palsy,” read a note from the doctor at the time.

Still, Ms. Odunuga visited her grandson every day for three months, driving to the NICU from her job at the University of Houston. “I’d put him in my shirt to keep him warm and hold him there.” She fell in love. She named him Emmanuel.

Once Emmanuel was discharged, Ms. Odunuga realized she had no choice but to quit her job. While Medicaid covered the costs of Emmanuel’s treatment, it was on her to care for him. From infancy, Emmanuel’s life has been a whirlwind of constant therapy. Today, at 20 months old, Odunuga brings him to physical, occupational, speech, and developmental therapy, each a different appointment on a different day of the week.

Emmanuel has thrived beyond what his doctors predicted, toddling so fast that Ms. Odunuga can’t look away for a minute and beaming as he waves his favorite toy phone. Yet he still suffers from gagging issues, which means Ms. Odunuga can’t feed him any solid foods. Liquid gets into his lungs when he aspirates; it has led to pneumonia three times. Emmanuel has a special stroller that helps keep his head in a position that won’t aggravate his persistent reflux, but Odunuga said she still has to pull over on the side of the road sometimes when she hears him projectile vomiting from the backseat.

The days are endless. Once she puts Emmanuel to bed, Ms. Odunuga starts planning the next day’s appointments. “I’ve had to cry alone, scream out alone,” she said. “Sometimes I wake up and think, Is this real? And then I hear him in the next room.”

Putting aside the challenge of eliminating syphilis entirely, everyone agrees it’s both doable and necessary to prevent newborn cases. “There was a crisis in perinatal HIV almost 30 years ago and people stood up and said this is not OK — it’s not acceptable for babies to be born in that condition. ... [We] brought it down from 1,700 babies born each year with perinatal HIV to less than 40 per year today,” said Virginia Bowen, an epidemiologist at the CDC. “Now here we are with a slightly different condition. We can also stand up and say, ‘This is not acceptable.’” Belarus, Bermuda, Cuba, Malaysia, Thailand, and Sri Lanka are among countries recognized by the World Health Organization for eliminating congenital syphilis.

Success starts with filling gaps across the health care system.

For almost a century, public health experts have advocated for testing pregnant patients more than once for syphilis in order to catch the infection. But policies nationwide still don’t reflect this best practice. Six states have no prenatal screening requirement at all. Even in states that require three tests, public health officials say that many physicians aren’t aware of the requirements. Dr. Stafford, the maternal-fetal medicine specialist in Houston, says she’s tired of hearing her own peers in medicine tell her, “Oh, syphilis is a problem?”

It costs public health departments less than 25 cents a dose to buy penicillin, but for a private practice, it’s more than $1,000, according to Dr. Park of the University of California San Francisco. “There’s no incentive for a private physician to stock a dose that could expire before it’s used, so they often don’t have it. So a woman comes in, they say, ‘We’ll send you to the emergency department or health department to get it,’ then [the patients] don’t show up.”

A vaccine would be invaluable for preventing spread among people at high risk for reinfection. But there is none. Scientists only recently figured out how to grow the bacteria in the lab, prompting grants from the National Institutes of Health to fund research into a vaccine. Dr. Justin Radolf, a researcher at the University of Connecticut School of Medicine, said he hopes his team will have a vaccine candidate by the end of its five-year grant. But it’ll likely take years more to find a manufacturer and run human trials.

Public health agencies also need to recognize that many of the hurdles to getting pregnant people treated involve access to care, economic stability, safe housing and transportation. In Fresno, Ms. Adams has been working on ways her department can collaborate with mental health services. Recently, one of her disease intervention specialists managed to get a pregnant woman treated with penicillin shots and, at the patient’s request, connected her with an addiction treatment center.

Gaining a patient’s cooperation means seeing them as complex humans instead of just a case to solve. “There may be past traumas with the health care system,” said Cynthia Deverson, project manager of the Houston Fetal Infant Morbidity Review. “There’s the fear of being discovered if she’s doing something illegal to survive. ... She may need to be in a certain place at a certain time so she can get something to eat, or maybe it’s the only time of the day that’s safe for her to sleep. They’re not going to tell you that. Yes, they understand there’s a problem, but it’s not an immediate threat, maybe they don’t feel bad yet, so obviously this is not urgent. ...

“What helps to gain trust is consistency,” she said. “Literally, it’s seeing that [disease specialist] constantly, daily. ... The woman can see that you’re not going to harm her, you’re saying, ‘I’m here at this time if you need me.’”

Ms. Yang stood outside the clinic, waiting for Angelica to show up, baking in the 90-degree heat. Her feelings ranged from irritation — Why didn’t she just go? I’d have more energy for other cases — to an appreciation for the parts of Angelica’s story that she didn’t know — She’s in survival mode. I need to be more patient.

Fifteen minutes ticked by, then 20.

“OK,” Ms. Yang announced. “We’re going back.”

She asked Sevilla if he would be OK if they drove Angelica to the clinic; they technically weren’t supposed to because of coronavirus precautions, but Ms. Yang wasn’t sure she could convince Angelica to walk. Mr. Sevilla gave her the thumbs up.

When they pulled up, they saw Angelica sitting in the backyard, chatting with a friend. She now wore a fresh T-shirt and had shoes on her feet. Angelica sat silently in the back seat as Ms. Yang drove to the clinic. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the parking lot.

Finally, Ms. Yang thought. We got her here.

The clinic was packed with people waiting for COVID-19 tests and vaccinations. A worker there had previously told Ms. Yang that a walk-in would be fine, but a receptionist now said they were too busy to treat Angelica. She would have to return.

Ms. Yang felt a surge of frustration, sensing that her hard-fought opportunity was slipping away. She tried to talk to the nurse supervisor, but he wasn’t available. She tried to leave the gift cards at the office to reward Angelica if she came, but the receptionist said she couldn’t hold them. While Ms. Yang negotiated, Mr. Sevilla sat with Angelica in the car, waiting.

Finally, Ms. Yang accepted this was yet another thing she couldn’t control.

She drove Angelica back to the yellow house. As they arrived, she tried once more to impress on her just how important it was to get treated, asking Mr. Sevilla to interpret. “We don’t want it to get any more serious, because she can go blind, she could go deaf, she could lose her baby.”

Angelica already had the door halfway open.

“So on a scale from one to 10, how important is this to get treated?” Ms. Yang asked.

“Ten,” Angelica said. Ms. Yang reminded her of the appointment that afternoon. Then Angelica stepped out and returned to the dusty yard.

Ms. Yang lingered for a moment, watching Angelica go. Then she turned the car back onto the highway and set off toward Fresno, knowing, already, that she’d be back.

Postscript: A reporter visited Huron twice more in the months that followed, including once independently to try to interview Angelica, but she wasn’t in town. Ms. Yang has visited Huron twice more as well — six times in total thus far. In October, a couple of men at the yellow house said Angelica was still in town, still pregnant. Ms. Yang and Mr. Sevilla spent an hour driving around, talking to residents, hoping to catch Angelica. But she was nowhere to be found.

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Financial hardship remains prevalent among pregnant and postpartum women, despite the implementation of the Affordable Care Act (ACA), according to new findings published in JAMA Network Open.

Nearly a quarter (24%) of pregnant and postpartum women reported having unmet health care needs, 60% had health care unaffordability, and 54% reported general financial stress. Notably, the type of insurance was associated with the ability to afford health care.

Those with private insurance, along with women with lower incomes, were more likely to experience unaffordable health care, compared to those covered by public insurance or who had higher incomes.

Senior study author Michelle H. Moniz, MD, assistant professor in the department of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, was surprised by multiple study findings. “The prevalence of financial hardship overall, and the three individual indicators of hardship, did not change over time from 2013 to 2018,” she said. “The ACA was enacted just prior to the study period, and while this policy had many benefits for women – especially around increasing insurance coverage – it does not seem to have improved financial hardship among pregnant and postpartum women.”

She emphasized that two groups were at the highest risk of health care unaffordability: those with private insurance and those living on low incomes. “This is notable, as we often think of private insurance as offering ‘Cadillac coverage,’ but our prior work suggests that privately insured women have strikingly high out-of-pocket costs for pregnancy and childbirth-related care,” Dr. Moniz said.

These expenses include deductibles, copays, and coinsurance payments, which come to about $4,500 on average. Medicaid plans, in contrast, have exceedingly low out-of-pocket costs for pregnant and postpartum women. “Findings from the current study call for targeted policy interventions to alleviate financial strain and remove financial barriers to health care access for privately insured families,” she said. “Similarly, families living on lower incomes were also at high risk of health care unaffordability. This may be because even small out-of-pocket costs, or health care–associated costs, account for a larger share of the family’s income.”

This finding for lower-income women calls for targeted policy interventions. “Sliding-scale deductibles, for example, are one solution that might mitigate economic hardship and remove cost-related barriers to health care for pregnant and postpartum women,” Dr. Moniz added.

Health care unaffordability high

In this study, Dr. Moniz and colleagues evaluated the prevalence of financial hardship among peripartum women over time, and how it was affected by their income level and the type of insurance coverage.

They conducted a cross-sectional study that included peripartum women between the ages of 18 and 45 years who reported being currently pregnant or pregnant in the past 12 months. The women were all participants in the National Health Interview Survey, which covers the period from 2013 to 2018, and the data were analyzed from January to May 2021.

The cohort included 3,509 peripartum women, and was weighted to represent 1,050,789 women, with a mean age of 29 years. In 2018, an estimated 39,017 of 184,018 (21.2%) were Black; 36,045 (19.6%) were Hispanic; and 97,366 (52.9%) were White. In the latter years of the study period, the participants tended to be older, more highly educated, and less likely to lack insurance.

When the authors compared the unadjusted reported financial hardship outcome by each study year, unmet health care need (2013: 27.9% [95% confidence interval, 24.4%-31.7%]; 2018: 23.7% [95% CI, 19.5%-28.6%]), health care unaffordability (2013: 65.7% [95% CI, 61.1%-70.0%]; 2018: 58.8% [95% CI, 53.4%-64.0%]), and general financial stress (2013: 60.6% [95% CI, 55.2%-65.8%]; 2018: 53.8% [95% CI, 47.8%-59.8%]) remained largely unchanged between 2013 and 2018.

When they looked at the relationship between insurance type, income, and financial difficulties, some degree of financial hardship was common across all groups; private insurance: 63.8% [95% CI, 61.1%-66.6%]; with public insurance: 49.9% [95% CI, 46.4%-53.4%]; with no insurance: 81.8% [95% CI, 76.4%-87.3%]; with income < 400% of the federal poverty level (FPL): 65.5% [95% CI, 62.1%-66.9%]; with income at least 400% of the FPL: 49.3% [95% CI,44.7%-53.9%]).

Those without any insurance had the highest odds of reporting unmet health care needs (adjusted OR [aOR], 4.40; 95% CI, 3.23-6.00) and health care unaffordability (aOR, 5.18; 95% CI, 3.49-7.70) compared with women who received public insurance.

But while women with private insurance had lower odds of reporting unmet health care needs (aOR, 0.67; 95% CI, 0.52-0.87), they faced higher odds of reporting health care unaffordability (aOR, 1.88; 95% CI, 1.49-2.36) compared to women who had public insurance.

Those with household incomes of less than 400% of the FPL had higher odds of reporting unmet health care need (aOR,1.50; 95% CI, 1.08-2.08) and health care unaffordability (aOR, 1.98; 95% CI, 1.54-2.55) versus women whose household incomes were at least 400% of FPL. The odds of general financial stress did not significantly differ by insurance status/type or income level.

Weighing in on the data

Jamie Daw, PhD, assistant professor of health policy and management, Columbia University Mailman School of Public Health, New York, noted that many people think of private insurance as “good coverage.”

“But the portion of medical costs that patients are required to pay under private plans has risen dramatically over the past decade,” she said. “Over half of the U.S. workforce is now enrolled in high-deductible plans, where the average deductible was $4,500 in 2020. The private insurance of today does not provide sufficient financial protection for most families, who would need to have the liquid assets to cover childbirth.”

Another expert agreed that the high out-of-pocket costs for women with private health insurance were probably responsible for making peripartum health care more unaffordable. These included costs for pregnancy care as well as for maternal and infant care during and after childbirth.

“This study reporting the high unmet medical needs and unaffordability of health care for peripartum women further underscores that the U.S. health care system is not meeting the needs of pregnant women, mothers, and their newborn infants,” said Lois K. Lee, MD, associate professor of pediatrics and emergency medicine at Harvard Medical School and associate director for public policy at the Sandra L. Fenwick Institute for Pediatric Health Equity and Inclusion, Boston.

“It is imperative to optimize the health of pregnant mothers to optimize the health of infants, who are our future society,” she said. “Policies which would expand Medicaid coverage to a full 1-year postpartum across all states is one important strategy to improve health care access and affordability to peripartum women. However, this must be part of a multipronged approach addressing the social determinants of health, as insurance coverage alone will not fully address this important health issue of peripartum women, and their children.”

Dr Moniz reported receiving personal fees from the RAND Corporation, the Society of Family Planning outside the submitted work and grant K08 HS025465 from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. Dr. Daw has no disclosures. Dr. Lee reports speaker fees from the American Academy of Pediatrics and SUNY Upstate Medical University. Coauthor Dr. Taylor was supported by the National Clinician Scholars Program at the University of Michigan. Dr Dalton was supported by grant R01 HS023784 from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality.
 

Financial hardship remains prevalent among pregnant and postpartum women, despite the implementation of the Affordable Care Act (ACA), according to new findings published in JAMA Network Open.

Nearly a quarter (24%) of pregnant and postpartum women reported having unmet health care needs, 60% had health care unaffordability, and 54% reported general financial stress. Notably, the type of insurance was associated with the ability to afford health care.

Those with private insurance, along with women with lower incomes, were more likely to experience unaffordable health care, compared to those covered by public insurance or who had higher incomes.

Senior study author Michelle H. Moniz, MD, assistant professor in the department of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, was surprised by multiple study findings. “The prevalence of financial hardship overall, and the three individual indicators of hardship, did not change over time from 2013 to 2018,” she said. “The ACA was enacted just prior to the study period, and while this policy had many benefits for women – especially around increasing insurance coverage – it does not seem to have improved financial hardship among pregnant and postpartum women.”

She emphasized that two groups were at the highest risk of health care unaffordability: those with private insurance and those living on low incomes. “This is notable, as we often think of private insurance as offering ‘Cadillac coverage,’ but our prior work suggests that privately insured women have strikingly high out-of-pocket costs for pregnancy and childbirth-related care,” Dr. Moniz said.

These expenses include deductibles, copays, and coinsurance payments, which come to about $4,500 on average. Medicaid plans, in contrast, have exceedingly low out-of-pocket costs for pregnant and postpartum women. “Findings from the current study call for targeted policy interventions to alleviate financial strain and remove financial barriers to health care access for privately insured families,” she said. “Similarly, families living on lower incomes were also at high risk of health care unaffordability. This may be because even small out-of-pocket costs, or health care–associated costs, account for a larger share of the family’s income.”

This finding for lower-income women calls for targeted policy interventions. “Sliding-scale deductibles, for example, are one solution that might mitigate economic hardship and remove cost-related barriers to health care for pregnant and postpartum women,” Dr. Moniz added.

Health care unaffordability high

In this study, Dr. Moniz and colleagues evaluated the prevalence of financial hardship among peripartum women over time, and how it was affected by their income level and the type of insurance coverage.

They conducted a cross-sectional study that included peripartum women between the ages of 18 and 45 years who reported being currently pregnant or pregnant in the past 12 months. The women were all participants in the National Health Interview Survey, which covers the period from 2013 to 2018, and the data were analyzed from January to May 2021.

The cohort included 3,509 peripartum women, and was weighted to represent 1,050,789 women, with a mean age of 29 years. In 2018, an estimated 39,017 of 184,018 (21.2%) were Black; 36,045 (19.6%) were Hispanic; and 97,366 (52.9%) were White. In the latter years of the study period, the participants tended to be older, more highly educated, and less likely to lack insurance.

When the authors compared the unadjusted reported financial hardship outcome by each study year, unmet health care need (2013: 27.9% [95% confidence interval, 24.4%-31.7%]; 2018: 23.7% [95% CI, 19.5%-28.6%]), health care unaffordability (2013: 65.7% [95% CI, 61.1%-70.0%]; 2018: 58.8% [95% CI, 53.4%-64.0%]), and general financial stress (2013: 60.6% [95% CI, 55.2%-65.8%]; 2018: 53.8% [95% CI, 47.8%-59.8%]) remained largely unchanged between 2013 and 2018.

When they looked at the relationship between insurance type, income, and financial difficulties, some degree of financial hardship was common across all groups; private insurance: 63.8% [95% CI, 61.1%-66.6%]; with public insurance: 49.9% [95% CI, 46.4%-53.4%]; with no insurance: 81.8% [95% CI, 76.4%-87.3%]; with income < 400% of the federal poverty level (FPL): 65.5% [95% CI, 62.1%-66.9%]; with income at least 400% of the FPL: 49.3% [95% CI,44.7%-53.9%]).

Those without any insurance had the highest odds of reporting unmet health care needs (adjusted OR [aOR], 4.40; 95% CI, 3.23-6.00) and health care unaffordability (aOR, 5.18; 95% CI, 3.49-7.70) compared with women who received public insurance.

But while women with private insurance had lower odds of reporting unmet health care needs (aOR, 0.67; 95% CI, 0.52-0.87), they faced higher odds of reporting health care unaffordability (aOR, 1.88; 95% CI, 1.49-2.36) compared to women who had public insurance.

Those with household incomes of less than 400% of the FPL had higher odds of reporting unmet health care need (aOR,1.50; 95% CI, 1.08-2.08) and health care unaffordability (aOR, 1.98; 95% CI, 1.54-2.55) versus women whose household incomes were at least 400% of FPL. The odds of general financial stress did not significantly differ by insurance status/type or income level.

Weighing in on the data

Jamie Daw, PhD, assistant professor of health policy and management, Columbia University Mailman School of Public Health, New York, noted that many people think of private insurance as “good coverage.”

“But the portion of medical costs that patients are required to pay under private plans has risen dramatically over the past decade,” she said. “Over half of the U.S. workforce is now enrolled in high-deductible plans, where the average deductible was $4,500 in 2020. The private insurance of today does not provide sufficient financial protection for most families, who would need to have the liquid assets to cover childbirth.”

Another expert agreed that the high out-of-pocket costs for women with private health insurance were probably responsible for making peripartum health care more unaffordable. These included costs for pregnancy care as well as for maternal and infant care during and after childbirth.

“This study reporting the high unmet medical needs and unaffordability of health care for peripartum women further underscores that the U.S. health care system is not meeting the needs of pregnant women, mothers, and their newborn infants,” said Lois K. Lee, MD, associate professor of pediatrics and emergency medicine at Harvard Medical School and associate director for public policy at the Sandra L. Fenwick Institute for Pediatric Health Equity and Inclusion, Boston.

“It is imperative to optimize the health of pregnant mothers to optimize the health of infants, who are our future society,” she said. “Policies which would expand Medicaid coverage to a full 1-year postpartum across all states is one important strategy to improve health care access and affordability to peripartum women. However, this must be part of a multipronged approach addressing the social determinants of health, as insurance coverage alone will not fully address this important health issue of peripartum women, and their children.”

Dr Moniz reported receiving personal fees from the RAND Corporation, the Society of Family Planning outside the submitted work and grant K08 HS025465 from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. Dr. Daw has no disclosures. Dr. Lee reports speaker fees from the American Academy of Pediatrics and SUNY Upstate Medical University. Coauthor Dr. Taylor was supported by the National Clinician Scholars Program at the University of Michigan. Dr Dalton was supported by grant R01 HS023784 from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality.
 

Financial hardship remains prevalent among pregnant and postpartum women, despite the implementation of the Affordable Care Act (ACA), according to new findings published in JAMA Network Open.

Nearly a quarter (24%) of pregnant and postpartum women reported having unmet health care needs, 60% had health care unaffordability, and 54% reported general financial stress. Notably, the type of insurance was associated with the ability to afford health care.

Those with private insurance, along with women with lower incomes, were more likely to experience unaffordable health care, compared to those covered by public insurance or who had higher incomes.

Senior study author Michelle H. Moniz, MD, assistant professor in the department of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, was surprised by multiple study findings. “The prevalence of financial hardship overall, and the three individual indicators of hardship, did not change over time from 2013 to 2018,” she said. “The ACA was enacted just prior to the study period, and while this policy had many benefits for women – especially around increasing insurance coverage – it does not seem to have improved financial hardship among pregnant and postpartum women.”

She emphasized that two groups were at the highest risk of health care unaffordability: those with private insurance and those living on low incomes. “This is notable, as we often think of private insurance as offering ‘Cadillac coverage,’ but our prior work suggests that privately insured women have strikingly high out-of-pocket costs for pregnancy and childbirth-related care,” Dr. Moniz said.

These expenses include deductibles, copays, and coinsurance payments, which come to about $4,500 on average. Medicaid plans, in contrast, have exceedingly low out-of-pocket costs for pregnant and postpartum women. “Findings from the current study call for targeted policy interventions to alleviate financial strain and remove financial barriers to health care access for privately insured families,” she said. “Similarly, families living on lower incomes were also at high risk of health care unaffordability. This may be because even small out-of-pocket costs, or health care–associated costs, account for a larger share of the family’s income.”

This finding for lower-income women calls for targeted policy interventions. “Sliding-scale deductibles, for example, are one solution that might mitigate economic hardship and remove cost-related barriers to health care for pregnant and postpartum women,” Dr. Moniz added.

Health care unaffordability high

In this study, Dr. Moniz and colleagues evaluated the prevalence of financial hardship among peripartum women over time, and how it was affected by their income level and the type of insurance coverage.

They conducted a cross-sectional study that included peripartum women between the ages of 18 and 45 years who reported being currently pregnant or pregnant in the past 12 months. The women were all participants in the National Health Interview Survey, which covers the period from 2013 to 2018, and the data were analyzed from January to May 2021.

The cohort included 3,509 peripartum women, and was weighted to represent 1,050,789 women, with a mean age of 29 years. In 2018, an estimated 39,017 of 184,018 (21.2%) were Black; 36,045 (19.6%) were Hispanic; and 97,366 (52.9%) were White. In the latter years of the study period, the participants tended to be older, more highly educated, and less likely to lack insurance.

When the authors compared the unadjusted reported financial hardship outcome by each study year, unmet health care need (2013: 27.9% [95% confidence interval, 24.4%-31.7%]; 2018: 23.7% [95% CI, 19.5%-28.6%]), health care unaffordability (2013: 65.7% [95% CI, 61.1%-70.0%]; 2018: 58.8% [95% CI, 53.4%-64.0%]), and general financial stress (2013: 60.6% [95% CI, 55.2%-65.8%]; 2018: 53.8% [95% CI, 47.8%-59.8%]) remained largely unchanged between 2013 and 2018.

When they looked at the relationship between insurance type, income, and financial difficulties, some degree of financial hardship was common across all groups; private insurance: 63.8% [95% CI, 61.1%-66.6%]; with public insurance: 49.9% [95% CI, 46.4%-53.4%]; with no insurance: 81.8% [95% CI, 76.4%-87.3%]; with income < 400% of the federal poverty level (FPL): 65.5% [95% CI, 62.1%-66.9%]; with income at least 400% of the FPL: 49.3% [95% CI,44.7%-53.9%]).

Those without any insurance had the highest odds of reporting unmet health care needs (adjusted OR [aOR], 4.40; 95% CI, 3.23-6.00) and health care unaffordability (aOR, 5.18; 95% CI, 3.49-7.70) compared with women who received public insurance.

But while women with private insurance had lower odds of reporting unmet health care needs (aOR, 0.67; 95% CI, 0.52-0.87), they faced higher odds of reporting health care unaffordability (aOR, 1.88; 95% CI, 1.49-2.36) compared to women who had public insurance.

Those with household incomes of less than 400% of the FPL had higher odds of reporting unmet health care need (aOR,1.50; 95% CI, 1.08-2.08) and health care unaffordability (aOR, 1.98; 95% CI, 1.54-2.55) versus women whose household incomes were at least 400% of FPL. The odds of general financial stress did not significantly differ by insurance status/type or income level.

Weighing in on the data

Jamie Daw, PhD, assistant professor of health policy and management, Columbia University Mailman School of Public Health, New York, noted that many people think of private insurance as “good coverage.”

“But the portion of medical costs that patients are required to pay under private plans has risen dramatically over the past decade,” she said. “Over half of the U.S. workforce is now enrolled in high-deductible plans, where the average deductible was $4,500 in 2020. The private insurance of today does not provide sufficient financial protection for most families, who would need to have the liquid assets to cover childbirth.”

Another expert agreed that the high out-of-pocket costs for women with private health insurance were probably responsible for making peripartum health care more unaffordable. These included costs for pregnancy care as well as for maternal and infant care during and after childbirth.

“This study reporting the high unmet medical needs and unaffordability of health care for peripartum women further underscores that the U.S. health care system is not meeting the needs of pregnant women, mothers, and their newborn infants,” said Lois K. Lee, MD, associate professor of pediatrics and emergency medicine at Harvard Medical School and associate director for public policy at the Sandra L. Fenwick Institute for Pediatric Health Equity and Inclusion, Boston.

“It is imperative to optimize the health of pregnant mothers to optimize the health of infants, who are our future society,” she said. “Policies which would expand Medicaid coverage to a full 1-year postpartum across all states is one important strategy to improve health care access and affordability to peripartum women. However, this must be part of a multipronged approach addressing the social determinants of health, as insurance coverage alone will not fully address this important health issue of peripartum women, and their children.”

Dr Moniz reported receiving personal fees from the RAND Corporation, the Society of Family Planning outside the submitted work and grant K08 HS025465 from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. Dr. Daw has no disclosures. Dr. Lee reports speaker fees from the American Academy of Pediatrics and SUNY Upstate Medical University. Coauthor Dr. Taylor was supported by the National Clinician Scholars Program at the University of Michigan. Dr Dalton was supported by grant R01 HS023784 from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality.
 

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) Director Rochelle Walensky, MD, has endorsed a two-dose regimen of Pfizer’s lower-dose mRNA vaccine for children ages 5 through 11 years-old – meaning the shots are now available for immediate use.

The Nov. 2 decision came mere hours after experts that advise the CDC on vaccinations strongly recommended the vaccine for this age group.

“Together, with science leading the charge, we have taken another important step forward in our nation’s fight against the virus that causes COVID-19. We know millions of parents are eager to get their children vaccinated and with this decision, we now have recommended that about 28 million children receive a COVID-19 vaccine. As a mom, I encourage parents with questions to talk to their pediatrician, school nurse, or local pharmacist to learn more about the vaccine and the importance of getting their children vaccinated,” Dr. Walensky said in a prepared statement.

President Joe Biden applauded Dr. Walensky’s endorsement: “Today, we have reached a turning point in our battle against COVID-19: authorization of a safe, effective vaccine for children age 5 to 11. It will allow parents to end months of anxious worrying about their kids, and reduce the extent to which children spread the virus to others. It is a major step forward for our nation in our fight to defeat the virus,” he said in a statement.

The 14 members of the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (ACIP) voted unanimously earlier in the day to recommend the vaccine for kids.

“I feel like I have a responsibility to make this vaccine available to children and their parents,” said committee member Beth Bell, MD, MPH, a clinical professor at the University of Washington in Seattle. Bell noted that all evidence the committee had reviewed pointed to a vaccine that was safe and effective for younger children.

“If I had a grandchild, I would certainly get that grandchild vaccinated as soon as possible,” she said.

Their recommendations follow the U.S. Food and Drug Administration’s emergency authorization of Pfizer-BioNTech’s vaccine for this same age group last week.

“I’m voting for this because I think it could have a huge positive impact on [kids’] health and their social and emotional wellbeing,” said Grace Lee, MD, a professor of pediatrics at Stanford University School of Medicine, who chairs the CDC’s ACIP.

She noted that, though masks are available to reduce the risk for kids, they aren’t perfect and transmission still occurs.

“Vaccines are really the only consistent and reliable way to provide that protection,” Lee said.

The vaccine for children is two doses given 3 weeks apart. Each dose is 10 micrograms, which is one-third of the dose used in adults and teens.

To avoid confusion, the smaller dose for kids will come in bottles with orange labels and orange tops. The vaccine for adults is packaged in purple.

The CDC also addressed the question of kids who are close to age 12 when they get their first dose.

In general, pediatricians allow for a 4-day grace period around birthdays to determine which dose is needed. That will be the same with the COVID-19 vaccine.

For kids who are 11 when they start the series, they should get another 10-microgram dose after they turn 12 a few weeks later.

COVID-19 cases in this age group have climbed sharply over the summer and into the fall as schools have fully reopened, sometimes without the benefit of masks.

In the first week of October, roughly 10% of all COVID-19 cases recorded in the United States were among children ages 5 through 11. Since the start of pandemic, about 1.9 million children in this age group have been infected, though that’s almost certainly an undercount. More than 8,300 have been hospitalized, and 94 children have died.

Children of color have been disproportionately impacted. More than two-thirds of hospitalized children have been black or Hispanic.

Weighing benefits and risks

In clinical trials that included more than 4,600 children, the most common adverse events were pain and swelling at the injection site. They could also have side effects like fevers, fatigue, headache, chills, and sometimes swollen lymph nodes.

These kinds of side effects appear to be less common in children ages 5 to 11 than they have been in teens and adults, and they were temporary.

No cases of myocarditis or pericarditis were seen in the studies, but myocarditis is a very rare side effect, and the studies were too small to pick up these cases.

Still, doctors say they’re watching for it. In general, the greatest risk for myocarditis after vaccination has been seen in younger males between the ages of 12 and 30.

Even without COVID-19 or vaccines in the mix, doctors expect to see as many as two cases of myocarditis for every million people over the course of a week. The risk for myocarditis jumps up to about 11 cases for every million doses of mRNA vaccine given to men ages 25 to 30. It’s between 37 and 69 cases per million doses in boys between the ages of 12 and 24.

Still, experts say the possibility of this rare risk shouldn’t deter parents from vaccinating younger children.

Here’s why: The risk for myocarditis is higher after COVID-19 infection than after vaccination. Younger children have a lower risk for myocarditis than teens and young adults, suggesting that this side effect may be less frequent in this age group, although that remains to be seen.

Additionally, the smaller dose authorized for children is expected to minimize the risk for myocarditis even further.

The CDC says parents should call their doctor if a child develops pain in their chest, has trouble breathing, or feels like they have a beating or fluttering heart after vaccination.

What about benefits?

Models looking at the impact of vaccines in this age group predict that, nationally, cases would drop by about 8% if children are vaccinated.

The models also suggested that vaccination of kids this age would slow — but not stop — the emergence of new variants.

For every million doses, the CDC’s modeling predicts that more than 56,000 COVID-19 infections would be prevented in this age group, along with dozens of hospitalizations, and post-COVID conditions like multisystem inflammatory syndrome in children.

CDC experts estimate that just 10 kids would need to be vaccinated over 6 months to prevent a single case of COVID-19.

The CDC pointed out that vaccinating kids may help slow transmission of the virus and would give parents and other caregivers greater confidence in participating in school and extracurricular activities.

CDC experts said they would use a variety of systems, including hospital networks, the open Vaccines and Adverse Events Reporting System (VAERS) database, the cell-phone based V-SAFE app, and insurance claims databases to keep an eye out for any rare adverse events related to the vaccines in children.

This article, a version of which first appeared on Medscape.com, was updated on Nov. 3, 2021.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) Director Rochelle Walensky, MD, has endorsed a two-dose regimen of Pfizer’s lower-dose mRNA vaccine for children ages 5 through 11 years-old – meaning the shots are now available for immediate use.

The Nov. 2 decision came mere hours after experts that advise the CDC on vaccinations strongly recommended the vaccine for this age group.

“Together, with science leading the charge, we have taken another important step forward in our nation’s fight against the virus that causes COVID-19. We know millions of parents are eager to get their children vaccinated and with this decision, we now have recommended that about 28 million children receive a COVID-19 vaccine. As a mom, I encourage parents with questions to talk to their pediatrician, school nurse, or local pharmacist to learn more about the vaccine and the importance of getting their children vaccinated,” Dr. Walensky said in a prepared statement.

President Joe Biden applauded Dr. Walensky’s endorsement: “Today, we have reached a turning point in our battle against COVID-19: authorization of a safe, effective vaccine for children age 5 to 11. It will allow parents to end months of anxious worrying about their kids, and reduce the extent to which children spread the virus to others. It is a major step forward for our nation in our fight to defeat the virus,” he said in a statement.

The 14 members of the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (ACIP) voted unanimously earlier in the day to recommend the vaccine for kids.

“I feel like I have a responsibility to make this vaccine available to children and their parents,” said committee member Beth Bell, MD, MPH, a clinical professor at the University of Washington in Seattle. Bell noted that all evidence the committee had reviewed pointed to a vaccine that was safe and effective for younger children.

“If I had a grandchild, I would certainly get that grandchild vaccinated as soon as possible,” she said.

Their recommendations follow the U.S. Food and Drug Administration’s emergency authorization of Pfizer-BioNTech’s vaccine for this same age group last week.

“I’m voting for this because I think it could have a huge positive impact on [kids’] health and their social and emotional wellbeing,” said Grace Lee, MD, a professor of pediatrics at Stanford University School of Medicine, who chairs the CDC’s ACIP.

She noted that, though masks are available to reduce the risk for kids, they aren’t perfect and transmission still occurs.

“Vaccines are really the only consistent and reliable way to provide that protection,” Lee said.

The vaccine for children is two doses given 3 weeks apart. Each dose is 10 micrograms, which is one-third of the dose used in adults and teens.

To avoid confusion, the smaller dose for kids will come in bottles with orange labels and orange tops. The vaccine for adults is packaged in purple.

The CDC also addressed the question of kids who are close to age 12 when they get their first dose.

In general, pediatricians allow for a 4-day grace period around birthdays to determine which dose is needed. That will be the same with the COVID-19 vaccine.

For kids who are 11 when they start the series, they should get another 10-microgram dose after they turn 12 a few weeks later.

COVID-19 cases in this age group have climbed sharply over the summer and into the fall as schools have fully reopened, sometimes without the benefit of masks.

In the first week of October, roughly 10% of all COVID-19 cases recorded in the United States were among children ages 5 through 11. Since the start of pandemic, about 1.9 million children in this age group have been infected, though that’s almost certainly an undercount. More than 8,300 have been hospitalized, and 94 children have died.

Children of color have been disproportionately impacted. More than two-thirds of hospitalized children have been black or Hispanic.

Weighing benefits and risks

In clinical trials that included more than 4,600 children, the most common adverse events were pain and swelling at the injection site. They could also have side effects like fevers, fatigue, headache, chills, and sometimes swollen lymph nodes.

These kinds of side effects appear to be less common in children ages 5 to 11 than they have been in teens and adults, and they were temporary.

No cases of myocarditis or pericarditis were seen in the studies, but myocarditis is a very rare side effect, and the studies were too small to pick up these cases.

Still, doctors say they’re watching for it. In general, the greatest risk for myocarditis after vaccination has been seen in younger males between the ages of 12 and 30.

Even without COVID-19 or vaccines in the mix, doctors expect to see as many as two cases of myocarditis for every million people over the course of a week. The risk for myocarditis jumps up to about 11 cases for every million doses of mRNA vaccine given to men ages 25 to 30. It’s between 37 and 69 cases per million doses in boys between the ages of 12 and 24.

Still, experts say the possibility of this rare risk shouldn’t deter parents from vaccinating younger children.

Here’s why: The risk for myocarditis is higher after COVID-19 infection than after vaccination. Younger children have a lower risk for myocarditis than teens and young adults, suggesting that this side effect may be less frequent in this age group, although that remains to be seen.

Additionally, the smaller dose authorized for children is expected to minimize the risk for myocarditis even further.

The CDC says parents should call their doctor if a child develops pain in their chest, has trouble breathing, or feels like they have a beating or fluttering heart after vaccination.

What about benefits?

Models looking at the impact of vaccines in this age group predict that, nationally, cases would drop by about 8% if children are vaccinated.

The models also suggested that vaccination of kids this age would slow — but not stop — the emergence of new variants.

For every million doses, the CDC’s modeling predicts that more than 56,000 COVID-19 infections would be prevented in this age group, along with dozens of hospitalizations, and post-COVID conditions like multisystem inflammatory syndrome in children.

CDC experts estimate that just 10 kids would need to be vaccinated over 6 months to prevent a single case of COVID-19.

The CDC pointed out that vaccinating kids may help slow transmission of the virus and would give parents and other caregivers greater confidence in participating in school and extracurricular activities.

CDC experts said they would use a variety of systems, including hospital networks, the open Vaccines and Adverse Events Reporting System (VAERS) database, the cell-phone based V-SAFE app, and insurance claims databases to keep an eye out for any rare adverse events related to the vaccines in children.

This article, a version of which first appeared on Medscape.com, was updated on Nov. 3, 2021.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) Director Rochelle Walensky, MD, has endorsed a two-dose regimen of Pfizer’s lower-dose mRNA vaccine for children ages 5 through 11 years-old – meaning the shots are now available for immediate use.

The Nov. 2 decision came mere hours after experts that advise the CDC on vaccinations strongly recommended the vaccine for this age group.

“Together, with science leading the charge, we have taken another important step forward in our nation’s fight against the virus that causes COVID-19. We know millions of parents are eager to get their children vaccinated and with this decision, we now have recommended that about 28 million children receive a COVID-19 vaccine. As a mom, I encourage parents with questions to talk to their pediatrician, school nurse, or local pharmacist to learn more about the vaccine and the importance of getting their children vaccinated,” Dr. Walensky said in a prepared statement.

President Joe Biden applauded Dr. Walensky’s endorsement: “Today, we have reached a turning point in our battle against COVID-19: authorization of a safe, effective vaccine for children age 5 to 11. It will allow parents to end months of anxious worrying about their kids, and reduce the extent to which children spread the virus to others. It is a major step forward for our nation in our fight to defeat the virus,” he said in a statement.

The 14 members of the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (ACIP) voted unanimously earlier in the day to recommend the vaccine for kids.

“I feel like I have a responsibility to make this vaccine available to children and their parents,” said committee member Beth Bell, MD, MPH, a clinical professor at the University of Washington in Seattle. Bell noted that all evidence the committee had reviewed pointed to a vaccine that was safe and effective for younger children.

“If I had a grandchild, I would certainly get that grandchild vaccinated as soon as possible,” she said.

Their recommendations follow the U.S. Food and Drug Administration’s emergency authorization of Pfizer-BioNTech’s vaccine for this same age group last week.

“I’m voting for this because I think it could have a huge positive impact on [kids’] health and their social and emotional wellbeing,” said Grace Lee, MD, a professor of pediatrics at Stanford University School of Medicine, who chairs the CDC’s ACIP.

She noted that, though masks are available to reduce the risk for kids, they aren’t perfect and transmission still occurs.

“Vaccines are really the only consistent and reliable way to provide that protection,” Lee said.

The vaccine for children is two doses given 3 weeks apart. Each dose is 10 micrograms, which is one-third of the dose used in adults and teens.

To avoid confusion, the smaller dose for kids will come in bottles with orange labels and orange tops. The vaccine for adults is packaged in purple.

The CDC also addressed the question of kids who are close to age 12 when they get their first dose.

In general, pediatricians allow for a 4-day grace period around birthdays to determine which dose is needed. That will be the same with the COVID-19 vaccine.

For kids who are 11 when they start the series, they should get another 10-microgram dose after they turn 12 a few weeks later.

COVID-19 cases in this age group have climbed sharply over the summer and into the fall as schools have fully reopened, sometimes without the benefit of masks.

In the first week of October, roughly 10% of all COVID-19 cases recorded in the United States were among children ages 5 through 11. Since the start of pandemic, about 1.9 million children in this age group have been infected, though that’s almost certainly an undercount. More than 8,300 have been hospitalized, and 94 children have died.

Children of color have been disproportionately impacted. More than two-thirds of hospitalized children have been black or Hispanic.

Weighing benefits and risks

In clinical trials that included more than 4,600 children, the most common adverse events were pain and swelling at the injection site. They could also have side effects like fevers, fatigue, headache, chills, and sometimes swollen lymph nodes.

These kinds of side effects appear to be less common in children ages 5 to 11 than they have been in teens and adults, and they were temporary.

No cases of myocarditis or pericarditis were seen in the studies, but myocarditis is a very rare side effect, and the studies were too small to pick up these cases.

Still, doctors say they’re watching for it. In general, the greatest risk for myocarditis after vaccination has been seen in younger males between the ages of 12 and 30.

Even without COVID-19 or vaccines in the mix, doctors expect to see as many as two cases of myocarditis for every million people over the course of a week. The risk for myocarditis jumps up to about 11 cases for every million doses of mRNA vaccine given to men ages 25 to 30. It’s between 37 and 69 cases per million doses in boys between the ages of 12 and 24.

Still, experts say the possibility of this rare risk shouldn’t deter parents from vaccinating younger children.

Here’s why: The risk for myocarditis is higher after COVID-19 infection than after vaccination. Younger children have a lower risk for myocarditis than teens and young adults, suggesting that this side effect may be less frequent in this age group, although that remains to be seen.

Additionally, the smaller dose authorized for children is expected to minimize the risk for myocarditis even further.

The CDC says parents should call their doctor if a child develops pain in their chest, has trouble breathing, or feels like they have a beating or fluttering heart after vaccination.

What about benefits?

Models looking at the impact of vaccines in this age group predict that, nationally, cases would drop by about 8% if children are vaccinated.

The models also suggested that vaccination of kids this age would slow — but not stop — the emergence of new variants.

For every million doses, the CDC’s modeling predicts that more than 56,000 COVID-19 infections would be prevented in this age group, along with dozens of hospitalizations, and post-COVID conditions like multisystem inflammatory syndrome in children.

CDC experts estimate that just 10 kids would need to be vaccinated over 6 months to prevent a single case of COVID-19.

The CDC pointed out that vaccinating kids may help slow transmission of the virus and would give parents and other caregivers greater confidence in participating in school and extracurricular activities.

CDC experts said they would use a variety of systems, including hospital networks, the open Vaccines and Adverse Events Reporting System (VAERS) database, the cell-phone based V-SAFE app, and insurance claims databases to keep an eye out for any rare adverse events related to the vaccines in children.

This article, a version of which first appeared on Medscape.com, was updated on Nov. 3, 2021.

Youth identifying as lesbian, gay, or bisexual were significantly less likely than were their peers to communicate with a physician or utilize health care in the past 12 months, according to data from a cohort study of approximately 4,000 adolescents.

Disparities in physical and mental health outcomes for individuals who identify as lesbian, gay, or bisexual (LGB) persist in the United States, and emerge in adolescents and young adults, wrote Sari L. Reisner, ScD, of Boston Children’s Hospital, and colleagues.

“LGB adult research indicates substantial unmet medical needs, including needed care and preventive care,” for reasons including “reluctance to disclose sexual identity to clinicians, lower health insurance rates, lack of culturally appropriate preventive services, and lack of clinician LGB care competence,” they said.

However, health use trends by adolescents who identify as LGB have not been well studied, they noted.

In a study published in JAMA Network Open, the researchers analyzed data from 4,256 participants in the third wave (10th grade) of adolescents in Healthy Passages, a longitudinal, observational cohort study of diverse public school students in Birmingham, Ala.; Houston; and Los Angeles County. Data were collected in grades 5, 7, and 10.

The study population included 640 youth who identified as LGB, and 3,616 non-LGB youth. Sexual status was based on responses to questions in the grade 10 youth survey. Health care use was based on the responses to questions about routine care, such as a regular checkup, and other care, such as a sick visit. Data on delayed care were collected from parents and youth. At baseline, the average age of the study participants in fifth grade was 11 years, 48.9% were female, 44.5% were Hispanic or Latino, and 28.9% were Black.

Overall, more LGB youth reported not receiving needed medical care when they thought they needed it within the past 12 months compared with non-LGB youth (42.4% of LGB vs. 30.2% of non-LGB youth; adjusted odds ratio 1.68). The most common conditions for which LGB youth did not seek care were sexually transmitted infections, contraception, and substance use.

Overall, the main reason given for not seeking medical care was that they thought the problem would go away (approximately 26% for LGB and non-LGB). Approximately twice as many LGB youth as non-LGB youth said they avoided medical care because they did not want their parents to know (14.5% vs. 9.4%).

Significantly more LGB youth than non-LGB youth reported difficulty communicating with their physicians in the past 12 months (15.3% vs. 9.4%; aOR 1.71). The main reasons for not communicating with a clinician about a topic of concern were that the adolescent did not want parents to know (40.7% of LGB and 30.2% of non-LGB) and that they were too embarrassed to talk about the topic (37.5% of LGB and 25.9% of non-LGB).

The researchers were not surprised that “LGB youth self-reported greater difficulty communicating with a clinician about topics they wanted to discuss,” but they found no significant differences in reasons for communication difficulty based on sexual orientation.

Approximately two-thirds (65.8%) of LGB youth reported feeling “a little or not at all comfortable” talking to a health care clinician about their sexual attractions, compared with approximately one-third (37.8%) of non-LGB youth.

Only 12.5% of the LGB youth said that their clinicians knew their sexual orientation, the researchers noted. However, clinicians need to know youths’ sexual orientation to provide appropriate and comprehensive care, they said, especially in light of the known negative health consequences of LGB internalized stigma, as well as the pertinence of certain sexual behaviors to preventive care and screening.

The study findings were limited by several factors including the cross-sectional design and inability to show causality, and by the incongruence of different dimensions of sexual orientation, the researchers noted. Other limitations included the use only of English and Spanish language, and a lack of complete information on disclosure of sexual orientation to parents, the researchers noted.

The results were strengthened by the diverse demographics, although they may not be generalizable to a wider population, they added.

However, the data show that responsive health care is needed to reduce disparities for LGB youth, they emphasized. “Care should be sensitive and respectful to sexual orientation for all youth, with clinicians taking time to ask adolescents about their sexual identity, attractions, and behaviors, particularly in sexual and reproductive health,” they concluded.
 

Adolescents suffer barriers similar to those of adults

“We know that significant health disparities exist for LGBTQ adults and adolescents,” Kelly Curran, MD, of the University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center, Oklahoma City, said in an interview. “LGBTQ adults often have had poor experiences during health care encounters – ranging from poor interactions with inadequately trained clinicians to frank discrimination,” she said. “These experiences can prevent individuals from seeking health care in the future or disclosing important information during a medical visit, both of which can contribute to worsened health outcomes,” she emphasized.

Prior to this study, data to confirm similar patterns of decreased health care utilization in LGB youth were limited, Dr. Curran said. “Identifying and understanding barriers to health care for LGBTQ youth are essential to help address the disparities in this population,” she said.

Dr. Curran said she was not surprised by the study findings for adolescents, which reflect patterns seen in LGBTQ adults.

Overcoming barriers to encourage LGB youth to seek regular medical care involves “training health care professionals about LGBTQ health, teaching the skill of taking a nonjudgmental, inclusive history, and making health care facilities welcoming and inclusive, such as displaying a pride flag in clinic, and using forms asking for pronouns,” Dr. Curran said.

Dr. Curran said she thinks the trends in decreased health care use are similar for transgender youth. “I suspect, if anything, that transgender youth will have even further decreased health care utilization when compared to cisgender heterosexual peers and LGB peers,” she noted.

Going forward, it will be important to understand the reasons behind decreased health care use among LGB youth, such as poor experiences, discrimination, or fears about confidentiality, said Dr. Curran. “Additionally, it would be important to understand if this decreased health utilization also occurs with transgender youth,” she said.

The Healthy Passages Study was funded by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. One of the study coauthors disclosed funding from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality as part of the Harvard-wide Pediatric Health Services Research Fellowship Program. The researchers had no financial conflicts to disclose. Dr. Curran had no financial conflicts to disclose, but serves on the editorial advisory board of Pediatric News.

Youth identifying as lesbian, gay, or bisexual were significantly less likely than were their peers to communicate with a physician or utilize health care in the past 12 months, according to data from a cohort study of approximately 4,000 adolescents.

Disparities in physical and mental health outcomes for individuals who identify as lesbian, gay, or bisexual (LGB) persist in the United States, and emerge in adolescents and young adults, wrote Sari L. Reisner, ScD, of Boston Children’s Hospital, and colleagues.

“LGB adult research indicates substantial unmet medical needs, including needed care and preventive care,” for reasons including “reluctance to disclose sexual identity to clinicians, lower health insurance rates, lack of culturally appropriate preventive services, and lack of clinician LGB care competence,” they said.

However, health use trends by adolescents who identify as LGB have not been well studied, they noted.

In a study published in JAMA Network Open, the researchers analyzed data from 4,256 participants in the third wave (10th grade) of adolescents in Healthy Passages, a longitudinal, observational cohort study of diverse public school students in Birmingham, Ala.; Houston; and Los Angeles County. Data were collected in grades 5, 7, and 10.

The study population included 640 youth who identified as LGB, and 3,616 non-LGB youth. Sexual status was based on responses to questions in the grade 10 youth survey. Health care use was based on the responses to questions about routine care, such as a regular checkup, and other care, such as a sick visit. Data on delayed care were collected from parents and youth. At baseline, the average age of the study participants in fifth grade was 11 years, 48.9% were female, 44.5% were Hispanic or Latino, and 28.9% were Black.

Overall, more LGB youth reported not receiving needed medical care when they thought they needed it within the past 12 months compared with non-LGB youth (42.4% of LGB vs. 30.2% of non-LGB youth; adjusted odds ratio 1.68). The most common conditions for which LGB youth did not seek care were sexually transmitted infections, contraception, and substance use.

Overall, the main reason given for not seeking medical care was that they thought the problem would go away (approximately 26% for LGB and non-LGB). Approximately twice as many LGB youth as non-LGB youth said they avoided medical care because they did not want their parents to know (14.5% vs. 9.4%).

Significantly more LGB youth than non-LGB youth reported difficulty communicating with their physicians in the past 12 months (15.3% vs. 9.4%; aOR 1.71). The main reasons for not communicating with a clinician about a topic of concern were that the adolescent did not want parents to know (40.7% of LGB and 30.2% of non-LGB) and that they were too embarrassed to talk about the topic (37.5% of LGB and 25.9% of non-LGB).

The researchers were not surprised that “LGB youth self-reported greater difficulty communicating with a clinician about topics they wanted to discuss,” but they found no significant differences in reasons for communication difficulty based on sexual orientation.

Approximately two-thirds (65.8%) of LGB youth reported feeling “a little or not at all comfortable” talking to a health care clinician about their sexual attractions, compared with approximately one-third (37.8%) of non-LGB youth.

Only 12.5% of the LGB youth said that their clinicians knew their sexual orientation, the researchers noted. However, clinicians need to know youths’ sexual orientation to provide appropriate and comprehensive care, they said, especially in light of the known negative health consequences of LGB internalized stigma, as well as the pertinence of certain sexual behaviors to preventive care and screening.

The study findings were limited by several factors including the cross-sectional design and inability to show causality, and by the incongruence of different dimensions of sexual orientation, the researchers noted. Other limitations included the use only of English and Spanish language, and a lack of complete information on disclosure of sexual orientation to parents, the researchers noted.

The results were strengthened by the diverse demographics, although they may not be generalizable to a wider population, they added.

However, the data show that responsive health care is needed to reduce disparities for LGB youth, they emphasized. “Care should be sensitive and respectful to sexual orientation for all youth, with clinicians taking time to ask adolescents about their sexual identity, attractions, and behaviors, particularly in sexual and reproductive health,” they concluded.
 

Adolescents suffer barriers similar to those of adults

“We know that significant health disparities exist for LGBTQ adults and adolescents,” Kelly Curran, MD, of the University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center, Oklahoma City, said in an interview. “LGBTQ adults often have had poor experiences during health care encounters – ranging from poor interactions with inadequately trained clinicians to frank discrimination,” she said. “These experiences can prevent individuals from seeking health care in the future or disclosing important information during a medical visit, both of which can contribute to worsened health outcomes,” she emphasized.

Prior to this study, data to confirm similar patterns of decreased health care utilization in LGB youth were limited, Dr. Curran said. “Identifying and understanding barriers to health care for LGBTQ youth are essential to help address the disparities in this population,” she said.

Dr. Curran said she was not surprised by the study findings for adolescents, which reflect patterns seen in LGBTQ adults.

Overcoming barriers to encourage LGB youth to seek regular medical care involves “training health care professionals about LGBTQ health, teaching the skill of taking a nonjudgmental, inclusive history, and making health care facilities welcoming and inclusive, such as displaying a pride flag in clinic, and using forms asking for pronouns,” Dr. Curran said.

Dr. Curran said she thinks the trends in decreased health care use are similar for transgender youth. “I suspect, if anything, that transgender youth will have even further decreased health care utilization when compared to cisgender heterosexual peers and LGB peers,” she noted.

Going forward, it will be important to understand the reasons behind decreased health care use among LGB youth, such as poor experiences, discrimination, or fears about confidentiality, said Dr. Curran. “Additionally, it would be important to understand if this decreased health utilization also occurs with transgender youth,” she said.

The Healthy Passages Study was funded by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. One of the study coauthors disclosed funding from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality as part of the Harvard-wide Pediatric Health Services Research Fellowship Program. The researchers had no financial conflicts to disclose. Dr. Curran had no financial conflicts to disclose, but serves on the editorial advisory board of Pediatric News.

Youth identifying as lesbian, gay, or bisexual were significantly less likely than were their peers to communicate with a physician or utilize health care in the past 12 months, according to data from a cohort study of approximately 4,000 adolescents.

Disparities in physical and mental health outcomes for individuals who identify as lesbian, gay, or bisexual (LGB) persist in the United States, and emerge in adolescents and young adults, wrote Sari L. Reisner, ScD, of Boston Children’s Hospital, and colleagues.

“LGB adult research indicates substantial unmet medical needs, including needed care and preventive care,” for reasons including “reluctance to disclose sexual identity to clinicians, lower health insurance rates, lack of culturally appropriate preventive services, and lack of clinician LGB care competence,” they said.

However, health use trends by adolescents who identify as LGB have not been well studied, they noted.

In a study published in JAMA Network Open, the researchers analyzed data from 4,256 participants in the third wave (10th grade) of adolescents in Healthy Passages, a longitudinal, observational cohort study of diverse public school students in Birmingham, Ala.; Houston; and Los Angeles County. Data were collected in grades 5, 7, and 10.

The study population included 640 youth who identified as LGB, and 3,616 non-LGB youth. Sexual status was based on responses to questions in the grade 10 youth survey. Health care use was based on the responses to questions about routine care, such as a regular checkup, and other care, such as a sick visit. Data on delayed care were collected from parents and youth. At baseline, the average age of the study participants in fifth grade was 11 years, 48.9% were female, 44.5% were Hispanic or Latino, and 28.9% were Black.

Overall, more LGB youth reported not receiving needed medical care when they thought they needed it within the past 12 months compared with non-LGB youth (42.4% of LGB vs. 30.2% of non-LGB youth; adjusted odds ratio 1.68). The most common conditions for which LGB youth did not seek care were sexually transmitted infections, contraception, and substance use.

Overall, the main reason given for not seeking medical care was that they thought the problem would go away (approximately 26% for LGB and non-LGB). Approximately twice as many LGB youth as non-LGB youth said they avoided medical care because they did not want their parents to know (14.5% vs. 9.4%).

Significantly more LGB youth than non-LGB youth reported difficulty communicating with their physicians in the past 12 months (15.3% vs. 9.4%; aOR 1.71). The main reasons for not communicating with a clinician about a topic of concern were that the adolescent did not want parents to know (40.7% of LGB and 30.2% of non-LGB) and that they were too embarrassed to talk about the topic (37.5% of LGB and 25.9% of non-LGB).

The researchers were not surprised that “LGB youth self-reported greater difficulty communicating with a clinician about topics they wanted to discuss,” but they found no significant differences in reasons for communication difficulty based on sexual orientation.

Approximately two-thirds (65.8%) of LGB youth reported feeling “a little or not at all comfortable” talking to a health care clinician about their sexual attractions, compared with approximately one-third (37.8%) of non-LGB youth.

Only 12.5% of the LGB youth said that their clinicians knew their sexual orientation, the researchers noted. However, clinicians need to know youths’ sexual orientation to provide appropriate and comprehensive care, they said, especially in light of the known negative health consequences of LGB internalized stigma, as well as the pertinence of certain sexual behaviors to preventive care and screening.

The study findings were limited by several factors including the cross-sectional design and inability to show causality, and by the incongruence of different dimensions of sexual orientation, the researchers noted. Other limitations included the use only of English and Spanish language, and a lack of complete information on disclosure of sexual orientation to parents, the researchers noted.

The results were strengthened by the diverse demographics, although they may not be generalizable to a wider population, they added.

However, the data show that responsive health care is needed to reduce disparities for LGB youth, they emphasized. “Care should be sensitive and respectful to sexual orientation for all youth, with clinicians taking time to ask adolescents about their sexual identity, attractions, and behaviors, particularly in sexual and reproductive health,” they concluded.
 

Adolescents suffer barriers similar to those of adults

“We know that significant health disparities exist for LGBTQ adults and adolescents,” Kelly Curran, MD, of the University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center, Oklahoma City, said in an interview. “LGBTQ adults often have had poor experiences during health care encounters – ranging from poor interactions with inadequately trained clinicians to frank discrimination,” she said. “These experiences can prevent individuals from seeking health care in the future or disclosing important information during a medical visit, both of which can contribute to worsened health outcomes,” she emphasized.

Prior to this study, data to confirm similar patterns of decreased health care utilization in LGB youth were limited, Dr. Curran said. “Identifying and understanding barriers to health care for LGBTQ youth are essential to help address the disparities in this population,” she said.

Dr. Curran said she was not surprised by the study findings for adolescents, which reflect patterns seen in LGBTQ adults.

Overcoming barriers to encourage LGB youth to seek regular medical care involves “training health care professionals about LGBTQ health, teaching the skill of taking a nonjudgmental, inclusive history, and making health care facilities welcoming and inclusive, such as displaying a pride flag in clinic, and using forms asking for pronouns,” Dr. Curran said.

Dr. Curran said she thinks the trends in decreased health care use are similar for transgender youth. “I suspect, if anything, that transgender youth will have even further decreased health care utilization when compared to cisgender heterosexual peers and LGB peers,” she noted.

Going forward, it will be important to understand the reasons behind decreased health care use among LGB youth, such as poor experiences, discrimination, or fears about confidentiality, said Dr. Curran. “Additionally, it would be important to understand if this decreased health utilization also occurs with transgender youth,” she said.

The Healthy Passages Study was funded by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. One of the study coauthors disclosed funding from the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality as part of the Harvard-wide Pediatric Health Services Research Fellowship Program. The researchers had no financial conflicts to disclose. Dr. Curran had no financial conflicts to disclose, but serves on the editorial advisory board of Pediatric News.

Mirroring the opioid crisis, maternal and newborn hepatitis C infections (HCV) more than doubled in the United States between 2009 and 2019, with disproportionate increases in people of White, American Indian, and Alaska Native race, especially those with less education, according to a cross-sectional study published in JAMA Health Forum. However, the level of risk within these populations was mitigated in counties with higher employment, reported Stephen W. Patrick, MD, of Vanderbilt University, in Nashville, Tenn., and coauthors.

“As we develop public health approaches to prevent HCV infections, connect to treatment, and monitor exposed infants, understanding these factors can be of critical importance to tailoring interventions,” Dr. Patrick said in an interview. “HCV is one more complication of the opioid crisis,” he added. “These data also enable us to step back a bit from HCV and look at the landscape of how the opioid crisis continues to grow in complexity and scope. Throughout the opioid crisis we have often failed to recognize and address the unique needs of pregnant people and infants.”

The study authors used data from the National Center for Health Statistics at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and from the Area Health Resource File to examine maternal-infant HCV infection among all U.S. births between 2009 and 2019. The researchers also examined community-level risk factors including rurality, employment, and access to medical care.

In counties reporting HCV, there were 39,380,122 people who had live births, of whom 138,343 (0.4%) were diagnosed with HCV. The overall rate of maternal HCV infection increased from 1.8 to 5.1 per 1,000 live births between 2009 and 2019.

Infection rates were highest in American Indian/Alaska Native (AI/AN) and White people (adjusted odds ratio [aOR] 7.94 and 7.37, respectively) compared with Black people. They were higher among individuals without a 4-year degree compared to those with higher education (aOR, 3.19).

Among these groups considered to be at higher risk for HCV infection, high employment rates somewhat mitigated the risk. Specifically, in counties in the 10th percentile of employment, the predicted probability of HCV increased from 0.16% to 1.37%, between 2009 and 2019, whereas in counties at the 90th percentile of employment, the predicted probability remained similar, at 0.36% in 2009 and 0.48% in 2019.

“With constrained national resources, understanding both individual and community-level factors associated with HCV infections in pregnant people could inform strategies to mitigate its spread, such as harm reduction efforts (e.g., syringe service programs), improving access to treatment for [opioid use disorder] or increasing the obstetrical workforce in high-risk communities, HCV testing strategies in pregnant people and people of childbearing age, and treatment with novel antiviral therapies,” wrote the authors.

In the time since the authors began the study, universal HCV screening for every pregnancy has been recommended by a number of groups, including the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, and the Society for Maternal-Fetal Medicine (SMFM). However, Dr. Patrick says even though such recommendations are now adopted, it will be some time before they are fully operational, making knowledge of HCV risk factors important for obstetricians as well as pediatricians and family physicians. “We don’t know how if hospitals and clinicians have started universal screening for HCV and even when it is completely adopted, understanding individual and community-level factors associated with HCV in pregnant people is still of critical importance,” he explained. “In some of our previous work we have found that non-White HCV-exposed infants are less likely to be tested for HCV than are White infants, even after accounting for multiple individual and hospital-level factors. The pattern we are seeing in our research and in research in other groups is one of unequal treatment of pregnant people with substance use disorder in terms of being given evidence-based treatments, being tested for HCV, and even in child welfare outcomes like foster placement. It is important to know these issues are occurring, but we need specific equitable approaches to ensuring optimal outcomes for all families.

Jeffrey A. Kuller, MD, one of the authors of the SMFM’s new recommendations for universal HCV screening in pregnancy, agreed that until universal screening is widely adopted, awareness of maternal HCV risk factors is important, “to better determine who is at highest risk for hep C, barriers to care, and patients to better target.” This information also affects procedure at the time of delivery, added Dr. Kuller, professor of obstetrics and gynecology in the division of maternal-fetal medicine at Duke University, Durham, N.C. “We do not perform C-sections for the presence of hep C,” he told this publication. However, in labor, “we try to avoid internal fetal monitoring when possible, and early artificial rupture of membranes when possible, and avoid the use of routine episiotomy,” he said. “Hep C–positive patients should also be assessed for other sexually transmitted diseases including HIV, syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and hep B. “Although we do not typically treat hep C pharmacologically during pregnancy, we try to get the patient placed with a hepatologist for long-term management.”

The study has important implications for pediatric patients, added Audrey R. Lloyd, MD, a med-peds infectious disease fellow who is studying HCV in pregnancy at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. “In the setting of maternal HCV viremia, maternal-fetal transmission occurs in around 6% of exposed infants and around 10% if there is maternal HIV-HCV coinfection,” she said in an interview. “With the increasing rates of HCV in pregnant women described by Dr. Patrick et al., HCV infections among infants will also rise. Even when maternal HCV infection is documented, we often do not do a good job screening the infants for infection and linking them to treatment. This new data makes me worried we may see more complications of pediatric HCV infection in the future,” she added. She explained that safe and effective treatments for HCV infection are approved down to 3 years of age, but patients must first be diagnosed to receive treatment. 

From whichever angle you approach it, tackling both the opioid epidemic and HCV infection in pregnancy will inevitably end up helping both parts of the mother-infant dyad, said Dr. Patrick. “Not too long ago I was caring for an opioid-exposed infant at the hospital where I practice who had transferred in from another center hours away. The mother had not been tested for HCV, so I tested the infant for HCV antibodies which were positive. Imagine that, determining a mother is HCV positive by testing the infant. There are so many layers of systems that should be fixed to make this not happen. And what are the chances the mother, after she found out, was able to access treatment for HCV? What about the infant being tested? The systems are just fragmented and we need to do better.”

The study was funded by the National Institute on Drug Abuse of the National Institutes of Health. Neither Dr. Patrick, Dr. Kuller, nor Dr. Lloyd reported any conflicts of interest.

Mirroring the opioid crisis, maternal and newborn hepatitis C infections (HCV) more than doubled in the United States between 2009 and 2019, with disproportionate increases in people of White, American Indian, and Alaska Native race, especially those with less education, according to a cross-sectional study published in JAMA Health Forum. However, the level of risk within these populations was mitigated in counties with higher employment, reported Stephen W. Patrick, MD, of Vanderbilt University, in Nashville, Tenn., and coauthors.

“As we develop public health approaches to prevent HCV infections, connect to treatment, and monitor exposed infants, understanding these factors can be of critical importance to tailoring interventions,” Dr. Patrick said in an interview. “HCV is one more complication of the opioid crisis,” he added. “These data also enable us to step back a bit from HCV and look at the landscape of how the opioid crisis continues to grow in complexity and scope. Throughout the opioid crisis we have often failed to recognize and address the unique needs of pregnant people and infants.”

The study authors used data from the National Center for Health Statistics at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and from the Area Health Resource File to examine maternal-infant HCV infection among all U.S. births between 2009 and 2019. The researchers also examined community-level risk factors including rurality, employment, and access to medical care.

In counties reporting HCV, there were 39,380,122 people who had live births, of whom 138,343 (0.4%) were diagnosed with HCV. The overall rate of maternal HCV infection increased from 1.8 to 5.1 per 1,000 live births between 2009 and 2019.

Infection rates were highest in American Indian/Alaska Native (AI/AN) and White people (adjusted odds ratio [aOR] 7.94 and 7.37, respectively) compared with Black people. They were higher among individuals without a 4-year degree compared to those with higher education (aOR, 3.19).

Among these groups considered to be at higher risk for HCV infection, high employment rates somewhat mitigated the risk. Specifically, in counties in the 10th percentile of employment, the predicted probability of HCV increased from 0.16% to 1.37%, between 2009 and 2019, whereas in counties at the 90th percentile of employment, the predicted probability remained similar, at 0.36% in 2009 and 0.48% in 2019.

“With constrained national resources, understanding both individual and community-level factors associated with HCV infections in pregnant people could inform strategies to mitigate its spread, such as harm reduction efforts (e.g., syringe service programs), improving access to treatment for [opioid use disorder] or increasing the obstetrical workforce in high-risk communities, HCV testing strategies in pregnant people and people of childbearing age, and treatment with novel antiviral therapies,” wrote the authors.

In the time since the authors began the study, universal HCV screening for every pregnancy has been recommended by a number of groups, including the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, and the Society for Maternal-Fetal Medicine (SMFM). However, Dr. Patrick says even though such recommendations are now adopted, it will be some time before they are fully operational, making knowledge of HCV risk factors important for obstetricians as well as pediatricians and family physicians. “We don’t know how if hospitals and clinicians have started universal screening for HCV and even when it is completely adopted, understanding individual and community-level factors associated with HCV in pregnant people is still of critical importance,” he explained. “In some of our previous work we have found that non-White HCV-exposed infants are less likely to be tested for HCV than are White infants, even after accounting for multiple individual and hospital-level factors. The pattern we are seeing in our research and in research in other groups is one of unequal treatment of pregnant people with substance use disorder in terms of being given evidence-based treatments, being tested for HCV, and even in child welfare outcomes like foster placement. It is important to know these issues are occurring, but we need specific equitable approaches to ensuring optimal outcomes for all families.

Jeffrey A. Kuller, MD, one of the authors of the SMFM’s new recommendations for universal HCV screening in pregnancy, agreed that until universal screening is widely adopted, awareness of maternal HCV risk factors is important, “to better determine who is at highest risk for hep C, barriers to care, and patients to better target.” This information also affects procedure at the time of delivery, added Dr. Kuller, professor of obstetrics and gynecology in the division of maternal-fetal medicine at Duke University, Durham, N.C. “We do not perform C-sections for the presence of hep C,” he told this publication. However, in labor, “we try to avoid internal fetal monitoring when possible, and early artificial rupture of membranes when possible, and avoid the use of routine episiotomy,” he said. “Hep C–positive patients should also be assessed for other sexually transmitted diseases including HIV, syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and hep B. “Although we do not typically treat hep C pharmacologically during pregnancy, we try to get the patient placed with a hepatologist for long-term management.”

The study has important implications for pediatric patients, added Audrey R. Lloyd, MD, a med-peds infectious disease fellow who is studying HCV in pregnancy at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. “In the setting of maternal HCV viremia, maternal-fetal transmission occurs in around 6% of exposed infants and around 10% if there is maternal HIV-HCV coinfection,” she said in an interview. “With the increasing rates of HCV in pregnant women described by Dr. Patrick et al., HCV infections among infants will also rise. Even when maternal HCV infection is documented, we often do not do a good job screening the infants for infection and linking them to treatment. This new data makes me worried we may see more complications of pediatric HCV infection in the future,” she added. She explained that safe and effective treatments for HCV infection are approved down to 3 years of age, but patients must first be diagnosed to receive treatment. 

From whichever angle you approach it, tackling both the opioid epidemic and HCV infection in pregnancy will inevitably end up helping both parts of the mother-infant dyad, said Dr. Patrick. “Not too long ago I was caring for an opioid-exposed infant at the hospital where I practice who had transferred in from another center hours away. The mother had not been tested for HCV, so I tested the infant for HCV antibodies which were positive. Imagine that, determining a mother is HCV positive by testing the infant. There are so many layers of systems that should be fixed to make this not happen. And what are the chances the mother, after she found out, was able to access treatment for HCV? What about the infant being tested? The systems are just fragmented and we need to do better.”

The study was funded by the National Institute on Drug Abuse of the National Institutes of Health. Neither Dr. Patrick, Dr. Kuller, nor Dr. Lloyd reported any conflicts of interest.

Mirroring the opioid crisis, maternal and newborn hepatitis C infections (HCV) more than doubled in the United States between 2009 and 2019, with disproportionate increases in people of White, American Indian, and Alaska Native race, especially those with less education, according to a cross-sectional study published in JAMA Health Forum. However, the level of risk within these populations was mitigated in counties with higher employment, reported Stephen W. Patrick, MD, of Vanderbilt University, in Nashville, Tenn., and coauthors.

“As we develop public health approaches to prevent HCV infections, connect to treatment, and monitor exposed infants, understanding these factors can be of critical importance to tailoring interventions,” Dr. Patrick said in an interview. “HCV is one more complication of the opioid crisis,” he added. “These data also enable us to step back a bit from HCV and look at the landscape of how the opioid crisis continues to grow in complexity and scope. Throughout the opioid crisis we have often failed to recognize and address the unique needs of pregnant people and infants.”

The study authors used data from the National Center for Health Statistics at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and from the Area Health Resource File to examine maternal-infant HCV infection among all U.S. births between 2009 and 2019. The researchers also examined community-level risk factors including rurality, employment, and access to medical care.

In counties reporting HCV, there were 39,380,122 people who had live births, of whom 138,343 (0.4%) were diagnosed with HCV. The overall rate of maternal HCV infection increased from 1.8 to 5.1 per 1,000 live births between 2009 and 2019.

Infection rates were highest in American Indian/Alaska Native (AI/AN) and White people (adjusted odds ratio [aOR] 7.94 and 7.37, respectively) compared with Black people. They were higher among individuals without a 4-year degree compared to those with higher education (aOR, 3.19).

Among these groups considered to be at higher risk for HCV infection, high employment rates somewhat mitigated the risk. Specifically, in counties in the 10th percentile of employment, the predicted probability of HCV increased from 0.16% to 1.37%, between 2009 and 2019, whereas in counties at the 90th percentile of employment, the predicted probability remained similar, at 0.36% in 2009 and 0.48% in 2019.

“With constrained national resources, understanding both individual and community-level factors associated with HCV infections in pregnant people could inform strategies to mitigate its spread, such as harm reduction efforts (e.g., syringe service programs), improving access to treatment for [opioid use disorder] or increasing the obstetrical workforce in high-risk communities, HCV testing strategies in pregnant people and people of childbearing age, and treatment with novel antiviral therapies,” wrote the authors.

In the time since the authors began the study, universal HCV screening for every pregnancy has been recommended by a number of groups, including the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, and the Society for Maternal-Fetal Medicine (SMFM). However, Dr. Patrick says even though such recommendations are now adopted, it will be some time before they are fully operational, making knowledge of HCV risk factors important for obstetricians as well as pediatricians and family physicians. “We don’t know how if hospitals and clinicians have started universal screening for HCV and even when it is completely adopted, understanding individual and community-level factors associated with HCV in pregnant people is still of critical importance,” he explained. “In some of our previous work we have found that non-White HCV-exposed infants are less likely to be tested for HCV than are White infants, even after accounting for multiple individual and hospital-level factors. The pattern we are seeing in our research and in research in other groups is one of unequal treatment of pregnant people with substance use disorder in terms of being given evidence-based treatments, being tested for HCV, and even in child welfare outcomes like foster placement. It is important to know these issues are occurring, but we need specific equitable approaches to ensuring optimal outcomes for all families.

Jeffrey A. Kuller, MD, one of the authors of the SMFM’s new recommendations for universal HCV screening in pregnancy, agreed that until universal screening is widely adopted, awareness of maternal HCV risk factors is important, “to better determine who is at highest risk for hep C, barriers to care, and patients to better target.” This information also affects procedure at the time of delivery, added Dr. Kuller, professor of obstetrics and gynecology in the division of maternal-fetal medicine at Duke University, Durham, N.C. “We do not perform C-sections for the presence of hep C,” he told this publication. However, in labor, “we try to avoid internal fetal monitoring when possible, and early artificial rupture of membranes when possible, and avoid the use of routine episiotomy,” he said. “Hep C–positive patients should also be assessed for other sexually transmitted diseases including HIV, syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and hep B. “Although we do not typically treat hep C pharmacologically during pregnancy, we try to get the patient placed with a hepatologist for long-term management.”

The study has important implications for pediatric patients, added Audrey R. Lloyd, MD, a med-peds infectious disease fellow who is studying HCV in pregnancy at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. “In the setting of maternal HCV viremia, maternal-fetal transmission occurs in around 6% of exposed infants and around 10% if there is maternal HIV-HCV coinfection,” she said in an interview. “With the increasing rates of HCV in pregnant women described by Dr. Patrick et al., HCV infections among infants will also rise. Even when maternal HCV infection is documented, we often do not do a good job screening the infants for infection and linking them to treatment. This new data makes me worried we may see more complications of pediatric HCV infection in the future,” she added. She explained that safe and effective treatments for HCV infection are approved down to 3 years of age, but patients must first be diagnosed to receive treatment. 

From whichever angle you approach it, tackling both the opioid epidemic and HCV infection in pregnancy will inevitably end up helping both parts of the mother-infant dyad, said Dr. Patrick. “Not too long ago I was caring for an opioid-exposed infant at the hospital where I practice who had transferred in from another center hours away. The mother had not been tested for HCV, so I tested the infant for HCV antibodies which were positive. Imagine that, determining a mother is HCV positive by testing the infant. There are so many layers of systems that should be fixed to make this not happen. And what are the chances the mother, after she found out, was able to access treatment for HCV? What about the infant being tested? The systems are just fragmented and we need to do better.”

The study was funded by the National Institute on Drug Abuse of the National Institutes of Health. Neither Dr. Patrick, Dr. Kuller, nor Dr. Lloyd reported any conflicts of interest.

During over 3 hours of oral arguments on Nov. 1, a seeming majority of Supreme Court justices appeared receptive to blocking a Texas law that essentially bans abortion after 6 weeks.

They seemed less certain about whether the federal government — which is also challenging the law — was within its rights to sue Texas.

Senate Bill 8, which went into effect September 1, allows any private citizen to file suit anywhere in the state against anyone who performs, induces, or “aids or abets” an abortion. If successful in court, the plaintiff is entitled to at least $10,000 and does not have to pay attorneys’ fees; rather, defendants are required to pay all legal costs.

In September, most justices denied an emergency request to stop the law but agreed to quickly hear the challenges in person.

At the Nov. 1 hearing, it appeared that a few justices who had let the law stand — notably conservatives Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh — were now agreeing that its challengers, in particular the abortion provider Whole Woman’s Health, might have a legal basis to move forward.

“I think it’s pretty likely the Court is going to do something that allows ‘someone’s’ suit against SB 8 to go ahead,” tweeted Raffi Melkonian, a Houston attorney, after the hearing. “I don’t know when they’re going to do that.”

The Supreme Court usually issues its opinions months after arguments. Since these two challenges — Whole Woman’s Health v. Jackson and US v. Texas —  were heard on a faster schedule, there’s speculation that a decision could also come quickly.

“The court clearly is in a hurry,” wrote Florida State University law professor Mary Ziegler before the hearing in a post on court-tracking site SCOTUSblog. She said the court seems to be taking the abortion issue as seriously as most Americans, and that the justices could rule before it hears oral arguments on December 1 in a Mississippi case directly challenging Roe v. Wade.

In addition, data shows abortions have been severely curtailed in Texas since the law took effect — by as much as 50% according to researchers at the University of Texas at Austin. They reported that 2,164 abortions were provided in September 2021, compared with 4,313 in September 2020.

“The actual provisions in this law have prevented every woman in Texas from exercising a constitutional right as declared by this court,” said Justice Elena Kagan, clarifying that it was every woman who had not made a decision by 6 weeks.

“Usually, in these chilling effect cases, we’re kind of guessing,” she said. “Here, we’re not guessing. We know exactly what has happened as a result of this law. It has chilled everybody on the ground.”

Judge Edward Stone II, an attorney with the Texas Attorney General’s Office who argued for the state, denied Justice Kagan’s assertion.

Nineteen medical organizations, including the American Medical Association, American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, American Academy of Family Physicians, American Academy of Pediatrics, and the American College of Physicians, filed a friend of the court brief supporting both challenges, saying the Texas law allows legislators to interfere with the patient–doctor relationship and that it limits treatment options.

Texas argued that the only way to challenge the law at the federal level would be to be sued first.

Marc A. Hearron, a lawyer with the Center for Reproductive Rights who argued for Whole Woman’s Health, said that was untenable.

“What my friends on the other side are saying is that clinics should just violate the law,” and “subject themselves to the risk that they will be forced to close their doors,” said Mr. Hearron. 

But even if providers decide to violate the law, “they may not find physicians, nurses, ultrasound technicians, staff members willing to work behind the desk, because this law targets all of them,” he said.

Plus, clinics run the risk of becoming permanent defendants because the law does not prohibit multiple suits, he said.

Whole Woman’s Health asked the justices to stop the law by preventing the state’s clerks from filing cases.
 

Federal standing not as clear

The U.S. Department of Justice sued Texas on September 9, saying the law negated the constitutional right to an abortion.

“The Act is clearly unconstitutional under longstanding Supreme Court precedent,” Attorney General Merrick Garland said at the time.

At the court, U.S. Solicitor General Elizabeth B. Prelogar called it a “brazen attack” on the supremacy of federal law and said it would open the door to other states mounting similar challenges.

Justice Kagan seemed to agree.

“The entire point of this law, its purpose, and its effect is to find the chink in the armor of Ex parte Young,” a 1908 law that “set out a basic principle of how our government is supposed to work and how people can seek review of unconstitutional state laws,” she said, decrying that “after all these many years, some geniuses came up with a way to evade the commands of that decision.”

Judge Stone waved off the concerns. “Nothing in this law even pretends that Texas courts could evade that because it can’t,” he said.

“Essentially, we would be inviting states, all 50 of them, with respect to their unpreferred constitutional rights, to try to nullify the law — that this Court has laid down as to the content of those rights,” said Justice Kagan.

Justice Kavanaugh also seemed concerned about that possibility.

“It could be free speech rights. It could be free exercise of religion rights. It could be Second Amendment rights if this position is accepted here,” he said, citing a brief submitted by the Firearms Policy Coalition that supported the Whole Woman’s Health challenge.

Justice Neil Gorsuch seemed dubious that the Texas law would undercut anybody’s right to challenge.

“Often constitutional rights, of course, can only be enforced in a defensive posture, when an individual is faced either with potential liability, punitive damages, but also, of course, civil fines — fines and even criminal sanction, including prison time,” he said.

Judge Stone argued that the U.S. government is “not a proper plaintiff” and did not have the right to sue Texas or any of its officials because none were involved in enforcing the law. If the federal government didn’t like the law, it should ask Congress to fix it, said Judge Stone.

After the hearing, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton reiterated that position.

“The Biden Administration does not have the power to sue a state, such as Texas, just because it disagrees with a state law that protects the unborn,” he said in a statement.

A ruling on the challenges will not put an end to the litigation over SB 8.

“Even if the Supreme Court does rule that the abortion provider plaintiffs are allowed to sue, it is likely that there will still need to be more litigation in a federal trial court before SB 8 is actually determined to be unconstitutional and is blocked by a court order,” wrote Ian Millhiser, a Supreme Court scholar, after the hearing.

A federal judge in Austin did approve the Department of Justice’s request for a temporary halt to the law in October, but days later, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled it could go back into effect while the legal questions were being pondered in the courts.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

During over 3 hours of oral arguments on Nov. 1, a seeming majority of Supreme Court justices appeared receptive to blocking a Texas law that essentially bans abortion after 6 weeks.

They seemed less certain about whether the federal government — which is also challenging the law — was within its rights to sue Texas.

Senate Bill 8, which went into effect September 1, allows any private citizen to file suit anywhere in the state against anyone who performs, induces, or “aids or abets” an abortion. If successful in court, the plaintiff is entitled to at least $10,000 and does not have to pay attorneys’ fees; rather, defendants are required to pay all legal costs.

In September, most justices denied an emergency request to stop the law but agreed to quickly hear the challenges in person.

At the Nov. 1 hearing, it appeared that a few justices who had let the law stand — notably conservatives Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh — were now agreeing that its challengers, in particular the abortion provider Whole Woman’s Health, might have a legal basis to move forward.

“I think it’s pretty likely the Court is going to do something that allows ‘someone’s’ suit against SB 8 to go ahead,” tweeted Raffi Melkonian, a Houston attorney, after the hearing. “I don’t know when they’re going to do that.”

The Supreme Court usually issues its opinions months after arguments. Since these two challenges — Whole Woman’s Health v. Jackson and US v. Texas —  were heard on a faster schedule, there’s speculation that a decision could also come quickly.

“The court clearly is in a hurry,” wrote Florida State University law professor Mary Ziegler before the hearing in a post on court-tracking site SCOTUSblog. She said the court seems to be taking the abortion issue as seriously as most Americans, and that the justices could rule before it hears oral arguments on December 1 in a Mississippi case directly challenging Roe v. Wade.

In addition, data shows abortions have been severely curtailed in Texas since the law took effect — by as much as 50% according to researchers at the University of Texas at Austin. They reported that 2,164 abortions were provided in September 2021, compared with 4,313 in September 2020.

“The actual provisions in this law have prevented every woman in Texas from exercising a constitutional right as declared by this court,” said Justice Elena Kagan, clarifying that it was every woman who had not made a decision by 6 weeks.

“Usually, in these chilling effect cases, we’re kind of guessing,” she said. “Here, we’re not guessing. We know exactly what has happened as a result of this law. It has chilled everybody on the ground.”

Judge Edward Stone II, an attorney with the Texas Attorney General’s Office who argued for the state, denied Justice Kagan’s assertion.

Nineteen medical organizations, including the American Medical Association, American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, American Academy of Family Physicians, American Academy of Pediatrics, and the American College of Physicians, filed a friend of the court brief supporting both challenges, saying the Texas law allows legislators to interfere with the patient–doctor relationship and that it limits treatment options.

Texas argued that the only way to challenge the law at the federal level would be to be sued first.

Marc A. Hearron, a lawyer with the Center for Reproductive Rights who argued for Whole Woman’s Health, said that was untenable.

“What my friends on the other side are saying is that clinics should just violate the law,” and “subject themselves to the risk that they will be forced to close their doors,” said Mr. Hearron. 

But even if providers decide to violate the law, “they may not find physicians, nurses, ultrasound technicians, staff members willing to work behind the desk, because this law targets all of them,” he said.

Plus, clinics run the risk of becoming permanent defendants because the law does not prohibit multiple suits, he said.

Whole Woman’s Health asked the justices to stop the law by preventing the state’s clerks from filing cases.
 

Federal standing not as clear

The U.S. Department of Justice sued Texas on September 9, saying the law negated the constitutional right to an abortion.

“The Act is clearly unconstitutional under longstanding Supreme Court precedent,” Attorney General Merrick Garland said at the time.

At the court, U.S. Solicitor General Elizabeth B. Prelogar called it a “brazen attack” on the supremacy of federal law and said it would open the door to other states mounting similar challenges.

Justice Kagan seemed to agree.

“The entire point of this law, its purpose, and its effect is to find the chink in the armor of Ex parte Young,” a 1908 law that “set out a basic principle of how our government is supposed to work and how people can seek review of unconstitutional state laws,” she said, decrying that “after all these many years, some geniuses came up with a way to evade the commands of that decision.”

Judge Stone waved off the concerns. “Nothing in this law even pretends that Texas courts could evade that because it can’t,” he said.

“Essentially, we would be inviting states, all 50 of them, with respect to their unpreferred constitutional rights, to try to nullify the law — that this Court has laid down as to the content of those rights,” said Justice Kagan.

Justice Kavanaugh also seemed concerned about that possibility.

“It could be free speech rights. It could be free exercise of religion rights. It could be Second Amendment rights if this position is accepted here,” he said, citing a brief submitted by the Firearms Policy Coalition that supported the Whole Woman’s Health challenge.

Justice Neil Gorsuch seemed dubious that the Texas law would undercut anybody’s right to challenge.

“Often constitutional rights, of course, can only be enforced in a defensive posture, when an individual is faced either with potential liability, punitive damages, but also, of course, civil fines — fines and even criminal sanction, including prison time,” he said.

Judge Stone argued that the U.S. government is “not a proper plaintiff” and did not have the right to sue Texas or any of its officials because none were involved in enforcing the law. If the federal government didn’t like the law, it should ask Congress to fix it, said Judge Stone.

After the hearing, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton reiterated that position.

“The Biden Administration does not have the power to sue a state, such as Texas, just because it disagrees with a state law that protects the unborn,” he said in a statement.

A ruling on the challenges will not put an end to the litigation over SB 8.

“Even if the Supreme Court does rule that the abortion provider plaintiffs are allowed to sue, it is likely that there will still need to be more litigation in a federal trial court before SB 8 is actually determined to be unconstitutional and is blocked by a court order,” wrote Ian Millhiser, a Supreme Court scholar, after the hearing.

A federal judge in Austin did approve the Department of Justice’s request for a temporary halt to the law in October, but days later, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled it could go back into effect while the legal questions were being pondered in the courts.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

During over 3 hours of oral arguments on Nov. 1, a seeming majority of Supreme Court justices appeared receptive to blocking a Texas law that essentially bans abortion after 6 weeks.

They seemed less certain about whether the federal government — which is also challenging the law — was within its rights to sue Texas.

Senate Bill 8, which went into effect September 1, allows any private citizen to file suit anywhere in the state against anyone who performs, induces, or “aids or abets” an abortion. If successful in court, the plaintiff is entitled to at least $10,000 and does not have to pay attorneys’ fees; rather, defendants are required to pay all legal costs.

In September, most justices denied an emergency request to stop the law but agreed to quickly hear the challenges in person.

At the Nov. 1 hearing, it appeared that a few justices who had let the law stand — notably conservatives Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh — were now agreeing that its challengers, in particular the abortion provider Whole Woman’s Health, might have a legal basis to move forward.

“I think it’s pretty likely the Court is going to do something that allows ‘someone’s’ suit against SB 8 to go ahead,” tweeted Raffi Melkonian, a Houston attorney, after the hearing. “I don’t know when they’re going to do that.”

The Supreme Court usually issues its opinions months after arguments. Since these two challenges — Whole Woman’s Health v. Jackson and US v. Texas —  were heard on a faster schedule, there’s speculation that a decision could also come quickly.

“The court clearly is in a hurry,” wrote Florida State University law professor Mary Ziegler before the hearing in a post on court-tracking site SCOTUSblog. She said the court seems to be taking the abortion issue as seriously as most Americans, and that the justices could rule before it hears oral arguments on December 1 in a Mississippi case directly challenging Roe v. Wade.

In addition, data shows abortions have been severely curtailed in Texas since the law took effect — by as much as 50% according to researchers at the University of Texas at Austin. They reported that 2,164 abortions were provided in September 2021, compared with 4,313 in September 2020.

“The actual provisions in this law have prevented every woman in Texas from exercising a constitutional right as declared by this court,” said Justice Elena Kagan, clarifying that it was every woman who had not made a decision by 6 weeks.

“Usually, in these chilling effect cases, we’re kind of guessing,” she said. “Here, we’re not guessing. We know exactly what has happened as a result of this law. It has chilled everybody on the ground.”

Judge Edward Stone II, an attorney with the Texas Attorney General’s Office who argued for the state, denied Justice Kagan’s assertion.

Nineteen medical organizations, including the American Medical Association, American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, American Academy of Family Physicians, American Academy of Pediatrics, and the American College of Physicians, filed a friend of the court brief supporting both challenges, saying the Texas law allows legislators to interfere with the patient–doctor relationship and that it limits treatment options.

Texas argued that the only way to challenge the law at the federal level would be to be sued first.

Marc A. Hearron, a lawyer with the Center for Reproductive Rights who argued for Whole Woman’s Health, said that was untenable.

“What my friends on the other side are saying is that clinics should just violate the law,” and “subject themselves to the risk that they will be forced to close their doors,” said Mr. Hearron. 

But even if providers decide to violate the law, “they may not find physicians, nurses, ultrasound technicians, staff members willing to work behind the desk, because this law targets all of them,” he said.

Plus, clinics run the risk of becoming permanent defendants because the law does not prohibit multiple suits, he said.

Whole Woman’s Health asked the justices to stop the law by preventing the state’s clerks from filing cases.
 

Federal standing not as clear

The U.S. Department of Justice sued Texas on September 9, saying the law negated the constitutional right to an abortion.

“The Act is clearly unconstitutional under longstanding Supreme Court precedent,” Attorney General Merrick Garland said at the time.

At the court, U.S. Solicitor General Elizabeth B. Prelogar called it a “brazen attack” on the supremacy of federal law and said it would open the door to other states mounting similar challenges.

Justice Kagan seemed to agree.

“The entire point of this law, its purpose, and its effect is to find the chink in the armor of Ex parte Young,” a 1908 law that “set out a basic principle of how our government is supposed to work and how people can seek review of unconstitutional state laws,” she said, decrying that “after all these many years, some geniuses came up with a way to evade the commands of that decision.”

Judge Stone waved off the concerns. “Nothing in this law even pretends that Texas courts could evade that because it can’t,” he said.

“Essentially, we would be inviting states, all 50 of them, with respect to their unpreferred constitutional rights, to try to nullify the law — that this Court has laid down as to the content of those rights,” said Justice Kagan.

Justice Kavanaugh also seemed concerned about that possibility.

“It could be free speech rights. It could be free exercise of religion rights. It could be Second Amendment rights if this position is accepted here,” he said, citing a brief submitted by the Firearms Policy Coalition that supported the Whole Woman’s Health challenge.

Justice Neil Gorsuch seemed dubious that the Texas law would undercut anybody’s right to challenge.

“Often constitutional rights, of course, can only be enforced in a defensive posture, when an individual is faced either with potential liability, punitive damages, but also, of course, civil fines — fines and even criminal sanction, including prison time,” he said.

Judge Stone argued that the U.S. government is “not a proper plaintiff” and did not have the right to sue Texas or any of its officials because none were involved in enforcing the law. If the federal government didn’t like the law, it should ask Congress to fix it, said Judge Stone.

After the hearing, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton reiterated that position.

“The Biden Administration does not have the power to sue a state, such as Texas, just because it disagrees with a state law that protects the unborn,” he said in a statement.

A ruling on the challenges will not put an end to the litigation over SB 8.

“Even if the Supreme Court does rule that the abortion provider plaintiffs are allowed to sue, it is likely that there will still need to be more litigation in a federal trial court before SB 8 is actually determined to be unconstitutional and is blocked by a court order,” wrote Ian Millhiser, a Supreme Court scholar, after the hearing.

A federal judge in Austin did approve the Department of Justice’s request for a temporary halt to the law in October, but days later, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled it could go back into effect while the legal questions were being pondered in the courts.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Unvaccinated people who had a recent infection were five times more likely to be reinfected with the coronavirus compared to those who were fully vaccinated and didn’t have a prior infection, according to a new study published recently in the CDC’s Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report.

The research team concluded that vaccination can provide a higher, stronger, and more consistent level of immunity against COVID-19 hospitalization than infection alone for at least six months.

“We now have additional evidence that reaffirms the importance of COVID-19 vaccines, even if you have had prior infection,” Rochelle Walensky, MD, director of the CDC, said in a statement.

“This study adds more to the body of knowledge demonstrating the protection of vaccines against severe disease from COVID-19,” she said. “The best way to stop COVID-19, including the emergence of variants, is with widespread COVID-19 vaccination and with disease prevention actions such as mask wearing, washing hands often, physical distancing and staying home when sick.”

Researchers looked at data from the VISION Network, which included more than 201,000 hospitalizations for COVID-like illness at 187 hospitals across nine states between Jan. 1 to Sept. 2. Among those, more than 94,000 had rapid testing for the coronavirus, and 7,300 had a lab-confirmed test for COVID-19.

The research team found that unvaccinated people with a prior infection within 3 to 6 months were about 5-1/2 times more likely to have laboratory-confirmed COVID-19 than those who were fully vaccinated within 3 to 6 months with the Pfizer or Moderna shots. They found similar results when looking at the months that the Delta variant was the dominant strain of the coronavirus.

Protection from the Moderna vaccine “appeared to be higher” than for the Pfizer vaccine, the study authors wrote. The boost in protection also “trended higher” among older adults, as compared to those under age 65.

Importantly, the research team noted, these estimates may change over time as immunity wanes. Future studies should consider infection-induced and vaccine-induced immunity as time passes during the pandemic, they wrote.

Additional research is also needed for the Johnson & Johnson vaccine, they wrote. Those who have received the Johnson & Johnson vaccine are currently recommended to receive a booster shot at least two months after the first shot.

Overall, “all eligible persons should be vaccinated against COVID-19 as soon as possible, including unvaccinated persons previously infected,” the research team concluded.

A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.

Unvaccinated people who had a recent infection were five times more likely to be reinfected with the coronavirus compared to those who were fully vaccinated and didn’t have a prior infection, according to a new study published recently in the CDC’s Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report.

The research team concluded that vaccination can provide a higher, stronger, and more consistent level of immunity against COVID-19 hospitalization than infection alone for at least six months.

“We now have additional evidence that reaffirms the importance of COVID-19 vaccines, even if you have had prior infection,” Rochelle Walensky, MD, director of the CDC, said in a statement.

“This study adds more to the body of knowledge demonstrating the protection of vaccines against severe disease from COVID-19,” she said. “The best way to stop COVID-19, including the emergence of variants, is with widespread COVID-19 vaccination and with disease prevention actions such as mask wearing, washing hands often, physical distancing and staying home when sick.”

Researchers looked at data from the VISION Network, which included more than 201,000 hospitalizations for COVID-like illness at 187 hospitals across nine states between Jan. 1 to Sept. 2. Among those, more than 94,000 had rapid testing for the coronavirus, and 7,300 had a lab-confirmed test for COVID-19.

The research team found that unvaccinated people with a prior infection within 3 to 6 months were about 5-1/2 times more likely to have laboratory-confirmed COVID-19 than those who were fully vaccinated within 3 to 6 months with the Pfizer or Moderna shots. They found similar results when looking at the months that the Delta variant was the dominant strain of the coronavirus.

Protection from the Moderna vaccine “appeared to be higher” than for the Pfizer vaccine, the study authors wrote. The boost in protection also “trended higher” among older adults, as compared to those under age 65.

Importantly, the research team noted, these estimates may change over time as immunity wanes. Future studies should consider infection-induced and vaccine-induced immunity as time passes during the pandemic, they wrote.

Additional research is also needed for the Johnson & Johnson vaccine, they wrote. Those who have received the Johnson & Johnson vaccine are currently recommended to receive a booster shot at least two months after the first shot.

Overall, “all eligible persons should be vaccinated against COVID-19 as soon as possible, including unvaccinated persons previously infected,” the research team concluded.

A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.

Unvaccinated people who had a recent infection were five times more likely to be reinfected with the coronavirus compared to those who were fully vaccinated and didn’t have a prior infection, according to a new study published recently in the CDC’s Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report.

The research team concluded that vaccination can provide a higher, stronger, and more consistent level of immunity against COVID-19 hospitalization than infection alone for at least six months.

“We now have additional evidence that reaffirms the importance of COVID-19 vaccines, even if you have had prior infection,” Rochelle Walensky, MD, director of the CDC, said in a statement.

“This study adds more to the body of knowledge demonstrating the protection of vaccines against severe disease from COVID-19,” she said. “The best way to stop COVID-19, including the emergence of variants, is with widespread COVID-19 vaccination and with disease prevention actions such as mask wearing, washing hands often, physical distancing and staying home when sick.”

Researchers looked at data from the VISION Network, which included more than 201,000 hospitalizations for COVID-like illness at 187 hospitals across nine states between Jan. 1 to Sept. 2. Among those, more than 94,000 had rapid testing for the coronavirus, and 7,300 had a lab-confirmed test for COVID-19.

The research team found that unvaccinated people with a prior infection within 3 to 6 months were about 5-1/2 times more likely to have laboratory-confirmed COVID-19 than those who were fully vaccinated within 3 to 6 months with the Pfizer or Moderna shots. They found similar results when looking at the months that the Delta variant was the dominant strain of the coronavirus.

Protection from the Moderna vaccine “appeared to be higher” than for the Pfizer vaccine, the study authors wrote. The boost in protection also “trended higher” among older adults, as compared to those under age 65.

Importantly, the research team noted, these estimates may change over time as immunity wanes. Future studies should consider infection-induced and vaccine-induced immunity as time passes during the pandemic, they wrote.

Additional research is also needed for the Johnson & Johnson vaccine, they wrote. Those who have received the Johnson & Johnson vaccine are currently recommended to receive a booster shot at least two months after the first shot.

Overall, “all eligible persons should be vaccinated against COVID-19 as soon as possible, including unvaccinated persons previously infected,” the research team concluded.

A version of this article first appeared on WebMD.com.

Hair follicle miniaturization was a prominent feature of persistent chemotherapy-induced alopecia (pCIA) in breast cancer survivors who presented to four specialty hair clinics, and treatment with minoxidil (sometimes with antiandrogen therapy) was associated with improved hair density, according to a recently published retrospective case series.

“An improvement in hair density was observed in most of the patients treated with topical minoxidil or LDOM [low-dose oral minoxidil], with a more favorable outcome seen with LDOM with or without antiandrogens,” reported Bevin Bhoyrul, MBBS, of Sinclair Dermatology in Melbourne and coauthors from the United Kingdom and Germany.

The findings, published in JAMA Dermatology, suggest that pCIA “may be at least partly reversible,” they wrote.

The investigators analyzed the clinicopathologic characteristics of pCIA in 100 patients presenting to the hair clinics, as well as the results of trichoscopy performed in 90 of the patients and biopsies in 18. The researchers also assessed the effectiveness of treatment in 49 of these patients who met their criteria of completing at least 6 months of therapy with minoxidil.

Almost all patients in their series – 92% – were treated with taxanes and had more severe alopecia than those who weren’t exposed to taxanes (a median Sinclair scale grade of 4 vs. 2). Defined as absent or incomplete hair regrowth 6 months or more after completion of chemotherapy, pCIA has been increasingly reported in the literature, the authors note.

Of the 100 patients, all but one of whom were women, 39 had globally-reduced hair density that also involved the occipital area (diffuse alopecia), and 55 patients had thinning of the centroparietal scalp hair in a female pattern hair loss (FPHL) distribution. Patients presented between November 2011 and February 2020 and had a mean age of 54. The Sinclair scale, which grades from 1 to 5, was used to assess the severity of hair loss in these patients.

Five female patients had bitemporal recession or balding of the crown in a male pattern hair loss (MPHL) distribution, and the one male patient had extensive baldness resembling Hamilton-Norwood type VII.

The vast majority of patients who had trichoscopy performed – 88% – had trichoscopic features that were “indistinguishable from those of androgenetic alopecia,” most commonly hair shaft diameter variability, increased vellus hairs, and predominant single-hair follicular units, the authors reported.

Of the 18 patients who had biopsies, 14 had androgenetic alopecia-like features with decreased terminal hairs, increased vellus hairs, and fibrous streamers. The reduced terminal-to-vellus ratio characterizes hair follicle miniaturization, a hallmark of androgenetic alopecia, they said. (Two patients had cicatricial alopecia, and two had features of both.)

“The predominant phenotypes of pCIA show prominent vellus hairs both clinically and histologically, suggesting that terminal hair follicles undergo miniaturization,” Dr. Bhoyrul and coauthors wrote. Among the 49 patients who completed 6 months or more of treatment, the median Sinclair grade improved from 4 to 3 in 21 patients who received topical minoxidil for a median duration of 17 months; from 4 to 2.5 in 18 patients who received LDOM for a median duration of 29 months; and from 5 to 3 in 10 patients who received LDOM combined with an antiandrogen, such as spironolactone, for a median of 33 months.

Almost three-quarters of the patients in the series received adjuvant hormone therapy, which is independently associated with hair loss, the authors noted. However, there was no statistically significant difference in the pattern or severity of alopecia between patients who were treated with endocrine therapy and those who weren’t.

Asked to comment on the study and on the care of patients with pCIA, Maria K. Hordinsky, MD, professor and chair of dermatology at the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, and an expert in hair diseases, said the case series points to the value of biopsies in patients with pCIA.

“Some patients really do have a loss of hair follicles,” she said. “But if you do a biopsy and see this miniaturization of the hair follicles, then we have tools to stimulate the hair follicles to become more normal. ... These patients can be successfully treated.”

For patients who do not want to do a biopsy, a therapeutic trial is acceptable. “But knowing helps set expectations for people,” she said. “If the follicles are really small, it will take months [of therapy].”

In addition to topical minoxidil, which she said “is always a good tool,” and LDOM, which is “becoming very popular,” Dr. Hordinsky has used low-level laser light successfully. She cautioned against the use of spironolactone and other hair-growth promoting therapies with potentially significant hormonal impacts unless there is discussion between the dermatologist, oncologist, and patient.

The authors of the case series called in their conclusion for wider use of hair-protective strategies such as scalp hypothermia. But Dr. Hordinsky said that, in the United States, there are divergent opinions among oncologists and among cancer centers on the use of scalp cooling and whether or not it might lessen response to chemotherapy.

More research is needed, she noted, on chemotherapy-induced hair loss in patients of different races and ethnicities. Of the 100 patients in the case series, 91 were European; others were Afro Caribbean, Middle Eastern, and South Asian.

Dr. Bhoyrul is supported by the Geoffrey Dowling Fellowship from the British Association of Dermatologists. One coauthor disclosed serving as a principal investigator and/or scientific board member for various pharmaceutical companies, outside of the submitted study. There were no other disclosures reported. Dr. Hordinsky, the immediate past president of the American Hair Research Society and a section editor for hair diseases in UpToDate, had no relevant disclosures.

Hair follicle miniaturization was a prominent feature of persistent chemotherapy-induced alopecia (pCIA) in breast cancer survivors who presented to four specialty hair clinics, and treatment with minoxidil (sometimes with antiandrogen therapy) was associated with improved hair density, according to a recently published retrospective case series.

“An improvement in hair density was observed in most of the patients treated with topical minoxidil or LDOM [low-dose oral minoxidil], with a more favorable outcome seen with LDOM with or without antiandrogens,” reported Bevin Bhoyrul, MBBS, of Sinclair Dermatology in Melbourne and coauthors from the United Kingdom and Germany.

The findings, published in JAMA Dermatology, suggest that pCIA “may be at least partly reversible,” they wrote.

The investigators analyzed the clinicopathologic characteristics of pCIA in 100 patients presenting to the hair clinics, as well as the results of trichoscopy performed in 90 of the patients and biopsies in 18. The researchers also assessed the effectiveness of treatment in 49 of these patients who met their criteria of completing at least 6 months of therapy with minoxidil.

Almost all patients in their series – 92% – were treated with taxanes and had more severe alopecia than those who weren’t exposed to taxanes (a median Sinclair scale grade of 4 vs. 2). Defined as absent or incomplete hair regrowth 6 months or more after completion of chemotherapy, pCIA has been increasingly reported in the literature, the authors note.

Of the 100 patients, all but one of whom were women, 39 had globally-reduced hair density that also involved the occipital area (diffuse alopecia), and 55 patients had thinning of the centroparietal scalp hair in a female pattern hair loss (FPHL) distribution. Patients presented between November 2011 and February 2020 and had a mean age of 54. The Sinclair scale, which grades from 1 to 5, was used to assess the severity of hair loss in these patients.

Five female patients had bitemporal recession or balding of the crown in a male pattern hair loss (MPHL) distribution, and the one male patient had extensive baldness resembling Hamilton-Norwood type VII.

The vast majority of patients who had trichoscopy performed – 88% – had trichoscopic features that were “indistinguishable from those of androgenetic alopecia,” most commonly hair shaft diameter variability, increased vellus hairs, and predominant single-hair follicular units, the authors reported.

Of the 18 patients who had biopsies, 14 had androgenetic alopecia-like features with decreased terminal hairs, increased vellus hairs, and fibrous streamers. The reduced terminal-to-vellus ratio characterizes hair follicle miniaturization, a hallmark of androgenetic alopecia, they said. (Two patients had cicatricial alopecia, and two had features of both.)

“The predominant phenotypes of pCIA show prominent vellus hairs both clinically and histologically, suggesting that terminal hair follicles undergo miniaturization,” Dr. Bhoyrul and coauthors wrote. Among the 49 patients who completed 6 months or more of treatment, the median Sinclair grade improved from 4 to 3 in 21 patients who received topical minoxidil for a median duration of 17 months; from 4 to 2.5 in 18 patients who received LDOM for a median duration of 29 months; and from 5 to 3 in 10 patients who received LDOM combined with an antiandrogen, such as spironolactone, for a median of 33 months.

Almost three-quarters of the patients in the series received adjuvant hormone therapy, which is independently associated with hair loss, the authors noted. However, there was no statistically significant difference in the pattern or severity of alopecia between patients who were treated with endocrine therapy and those who weren’t.

Asked to comment on the study and on the care of patients with pCIA, Maria K. Hordinsky, MD, professor and chair of dermatology at the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, and an expert in hair diseases, said the case series points to the value of biopsies in patients with pCIA.

“Some patients really do have a loss of hair follicles,” she said. “But if you do a biopsy and see this miniaturization of the hair follicles, then we have tools to stimulate the hair follicles to become more normal. ... These patients can be successfully treated.”

For patients who do not want to do a biopsy, a therapeutic trial is acceptable. “But knowing helps set expectations for people,” she said. “If the follicles are really small, it will take months [of therapy].”

In addition to topical minoxidil, which she said “is always a good tool,” and LDOM, which is “becoming very popular,” Dr. Hordinsky has used low-level laser light successfully. She cautioned against the use of spironolactone and other hair-growth promoting therapies with potentially significant hormonal impacts unless there is discussion between the dermatologist, oncologist, and patient.

The authors of the case series called in their conclusion for wider use of hair-protective strategies such as scalp hypothermia. But Dr. Hordinsky said that, in the United States, there are divergent opinions among oncologists and among cancer centers on the use of scalp cooling and whether or not it might lessen response to chemotherapy.

More research is needed, she noted, on chemotherapy-induced hair loss in patients of different races and ethnicities. Of the 100 patients in the case series, 91 were European; others were Afro Caribbean, Middle Eastern, and South Asian.

Dr. Bhoyrul is supported by the Geoffrey Dowling Fellowship from the British Association of Dermatologists. One coauthor disclosed serving as a principal investigator and/or scientific board member for various pharmaceutical companies, outside of the submitted study. There were no other disclosures reported. Dr. Hordinsky, the immediate past president of the American Hair Research Society and a section editor for hair diseases in UpToDate, had no relevant disclosures.

Hair follicle miniaturization was a prominent feature of persistent chemotherapy-induced alopecia (pCIA) in breast cancer survivors who presented to four specialty hair clinics, and treatment with minoxidil (sometimes with antiandrogen therapy) was associated with improved hair density, according to a recently published retrospective case series.

“An improvement in hair density was observed in most of the patients treated with topical minoxidil or LDOM [low-dose oral minoxidil], with a more favorable outcome seen with LDOM with or without antiandrogens,” reported Bevin Bhoyrul, MBBS, of Sinclair Dermatology in Melbourne and coauthors from the United Kingdom and Germany.

The findings, published in JAMA Dermatology, suggest that pCIA “may be at least partly reversible,” they wrote.

The investigators analyzed the clinicopathologic characteristics of pCIA in 100 patients presenting to the hair clinics, as well as the results of trichoscopy performed in 90 of the patients and biopsies in 18. The researchers also assessed the effectiveness of treatment in 49 of these patients who met their criteria of completing at least 6 months of therapy with minoxidil.

Almost all patients in their series – 92% – were treated with taxanes and had more severe alopecia than those who weren’t exposed to taxanes (a median Sinclair scale grade of 4 vs. 2). Defined as absent or incomplete hair regrowth 6 months or more after completion of chemotherapy, pCIA has been increasingly reported in the literature, the authors note.

Of the 100 patients, all but one of whom were women, 39 had globally-reduced hair density that also involved the occipital area (diffuse alopecia), and 55 patients had thinning of the centroparietal scalp hair in a female pattern hair loss (FPHL) distribution. Patients presented between November 2011 and February 2020 and had a mean age of 54. The Sinclair scale, which grades from 1 to 5, was used to assess the severity of hair loss in these patients.

Five female patients had bitemporal recession or balding of the crown in a male pattern hair loss (MPHL) distribution, and the one male patient had extensive baldness resembling Hamilton-Norwood type VII.

The vast majority of patients who had trichoscopy performed – 88% – had trichoscopic features that were “indistinguishable from those of androgenetic alopecia,” most commonly hair shaft diameter variability, increased vellus hairs, and predominant single-hair follicular units, the authors reported.

Of the 18 patients who had biopsies, 14 had androgenetic alopecia-like features with decreased terminal hairs, increased vellus hairs, and fibrous streamers. The reduced terminal-to-vellus ratio characterizes hair follicle miniaturization, a hallmark of androgenetic alopecia, they said. (Two patients had cicatricial alopecia, and two had features of both.)

“The predominant phenotypes of pCIA show prominent vellus hairs both clinically and histologically, suggesting that terminal hair follicles undergo miniaturization,” Dr. Bhoyrul and coauthors wrote. Among the 49 patients who completed 6 months or more of treatment, the median Sinclair grade improved from 4 to 3 in 21 patients who received topical minoxidil for a median duration of 17 months; from 4 to 2.5 in 18 patients who received LDOM for a median duration of 29 months; and from 5 to 3 in 10 patients who received LDOM combined with an antiandrogen, such as spironolactone, for a median of 33 months.

Almost three-quarters of the patients in the series received adjuvant hormone therapy, which is independently associated with hair loss, the authors noted. However, there was no statistically significant difference in the pattern or severity of alopecia between patients who were treated with endocrine therapy and those who weren’t.

Asked to comment on the study and on the care of patients with pCIA, Maria K. Hordinsky, MD, professor and chair of dermatology at the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, and an expert in hair diseases, said the case series points to the value of biopsies in patients with pCIA.

“Some patients really do have a loss of hair follicles,” she said. “But if you do a biopsy and see this miniaturization of the hair follicles, then we have tools to stimulate the hair follicles to become more normal. ... These patients can be successfully treated.”

For patients who do not want to do a biopsy, a therapeutic trial is acceptable. “But knowing helps set expectations for people,” she said. “If the follicles are really small, it will take months [of therapy].”

In addition to topical minoxidil, which she said “is always a good tool,” and LDOM, which is “becoming very popular,” Dr. Hordinsky has used low-level laser light successfully. She cautioned against the use of spironolactone and other hair-growth promoting therapies with potentially significant hormonal impacts unless there is discussion between the dermatologist, oncologist, and patient.

The authors of the case series called in their conclusion for wider use of hair-protective strategies such as scalp hypothermia. But Dr. Hordinsky said that, in the United States, there are divergent opinions among oncologists and among cancer centers on the use of scalp cooling and whether or not it might lessen response to chemotherapy.

More research is needed, she noted, on chemotherapy-induced hair loss in patients of different races and ethnicities. Of the 100 patients in the case series, 91 were European; others were Afro Caribbean, Middle Eastern, and South Asian.

Dr. Bhoyrul is supported by the Geoffrey Dowling Fellowship from the British Association of Dermatologists. One coauthor disclosed serving as a principal investigator and/or scientific board member for various pharmaceutical companies, outside of the submitted study. There were no other disclosures reported. Dr. Hordinsky, the immediate past president of the American Hair Research Society and a section editor for hair diseases in UpToDate, had no relevant disclosures.

Mahalingam et al in the Journal of Maternal-Fetal & Neonatal Medicine reported the risk of preterm birth among women with uterine fibroids who underwent myomectomy versus those who did not prior to pregnancy. In this retrospective cohort study, the team evaluated 290 women with a viable intrauterine pregnancy and history of uterine fibroids and compared two groups: 70 with history of a prior myomectomy and 220 who did not undergo myomectomy and had at least 1 fibroid of size 5 cm or more detected at less than 21 weeks’ gestation. The team found that women who underwent prior myomectomy versus those who did not were more likely to deliver preterm < 37 weeks gestation (35% vs 21%; P = .02) and deliver a mean 1.4 weeks earlier (36.3±3.6 vs 37.7±3.7 weeks gestation; P = .02). Patients with history of myomectomy had a higher C-section rate (88% vs 53%, P < 0.001). However, when the authors controlled for late preterm pre-labor C-sections recommended by physicians in the myomectomy cohort (n=5), the difference in preterm birth was not significant between the groups.

Lee et al reported that MRI can potentially predict the benefit of GnRH-agonist treatment prior to for large fibroids. In this retrospective analysis published in Acta Radiologica, 30 patients with large uterine fibroids received GnRH agonist prior to uterine artery embolization (UAE) with MRI evaluation before and after treatment. Indications for GnRH-agonist treatment (monthly 3.75 mg leuprolide acetate injections) included intramural or subserosal fibroids > 10 cm in diameter or pedunculated submucosal fibroids > 8 cm, as well as contrast enhancement observed on T1-weighted (T1W) images. Mean maximum fibroid diameter was 11.1 + 1.9 cm and mean number of GnRH-agonist injections received was 2.8. Signal intensity (SI) of the predominant fibroid on T2-weighted (T2W) images was referenced to the SI of the rectus abdominus muscle (F/R). For predicting a volume reduction rate of the large fibroid of >50%, the optimal cut-off value of F/R was 2.58 (sensitivity 80%, specificity 80%). Likewise, large fibroids with a volume rate reduction of <30% had an optimal cut-off volume of 1.69 (sensitivity 100%, specificity 70%). From a clinical perspective, both surgeons and radiologists could use SI of the predominant fibroid on T2W to predict response to GnRH agonist pretreatment.

Mahalingam et al in the Journal of Maternal-Fetal & Neonatal Medicine reported the risk of preterm birth among women with uterine fibroids who underwent myomectomy versus those who did not prior to pregnancy. In this retrospective cohort study, the team evaluated 290 women with a viable intrauterine pregnancy and history of uterine fibroids and compared two groups: 70 with history of a prior myomectomy and 220 who did not undergo myomectomy and had at least 1 fibroid of size 5 cm or more detected at less than 21 weeks’ gestation. The team found that women who underwent prior myomectomy versus those who did not were more likely to deliver preterm < 37 weeks gestation (35% vs 21%; P = .02) and deliver a mean 1.4 weeks earlier (36.3±3.6 vs 37.7±3.7 weeks gestation; P = .02). Patients with history of myomectomy had a higher C-section rate (88% vs 53%, P < 0.001). However, when the authors controlled for late preterm pre-labor C-sections recommended by physicians in the myomectomy cohort (n=5), the difference in preterm birth was not significant between the groups.

Lee et al reported that MRI can potentially predict the benefit of GnRH-agonist treatment prior to for large fibroids. In this retrospective analysis published in Acta Radiologica, 30 patients with large uterine fibroids received GnRH agonist prior to uterine artery embolization (UAE) with MRI evaluation before and after treatment. Indications for GnRH-agonist treatment (monthly 3.75 mg leuprolide acetate injections) included intramural or subserosal fibroids > 10 cm in diameter or pedunculated submucosal fibroids > 8 cm, as well as contrast enhancement observed on T1-weighted (T1W) images. Mean maximum fibroid diameter was 11.1 + 1.9 cm and mean number of GnRH-agonist injections received was 2.8. Signal intensity (SI) of the predominant fibroid on T2-weighted (T2W) images was referenced to the SI of the rectus abdominus muscle (F/R). For predicting a volume reduction rate of the large fibroid of >50%, the optimal cut-off value of F/R was 2.58 (sensitivity 80%, specificity 80%). Likewise, large fibroids with a volume rate reduction of <30% had an optimal cut-off volume of 1.69 (sensitivity 100%, specificity 70%). From a clinical perspective, both surgeons and radiologists could use SI of the predominant fibroid on T2W to predict response to GnRH agonist pretreatment.

Mahalingam et al in the Journal of Maternal-Fetal & Neonatal Medicine reported the risk of preterm birth among women with uterine fibroids who underwent myomectomy versus those who did not prior to pregnancy. In this retrospective cohort study, the team evaluated 290 women with a viable intrauterine pregnancy and history of uterine fibroids and compared two groups: 70 with history of a prior myomectomy and 220 who did not undergo myomectomy and had at least 1 fibroid of size 5 cm or more detected at less than 21 weeks’ gestation. The team found that women who underwent prior myomectomy versus those who did not were more likely to deliver preterm < 37 weeks gestation (35% vs 21%; P = .02) and deliver a mean 1.4 weeks earlier (36.3±3.6 vs 37.7±3.7 weeks gestation; P = .02). Patients with history of myomectomy had a higher C-section rate (88% vs 53%, P < 0.001). However, when the authors controlled for late preterm pre-labor C-sections recommended by physicians in the myomectomy cohort (n=5), the difference in preterm birth was not significant between the groups.

Lee et al reported that MRI can potentially predict the benefit of GnRH-agonist treatment prior to for large fibroids. In this retrospective analysis published in Acta Radiologica, 30 patients with large uterine fibroids received GnRH agonist prior to uterine artery embolization (UAE) with MRI evaluation before and after treatment. Indications for GnRH-agonist treatment (monthly 3.75 mg leuprolide acetate injections) included intramural or subserosal fibroids > 10 cm in diameter or pedunculated submucosal fibroids > 8 cm, as well as contrast enhancement observed on T1-weighted (T1W) images. Mean maximum fibroid diameter was 11.1 + 1.9 cm and mean number of GnRH-agonist injections received was 2.8. Signal intensity (SI) of the predominant fibroid on T2-weighted (T2W) images was referenced to the SI of the rectus abdominus muscle (F/R). For predicting a volume reduction rate of the large fibroid of >50%, the optimal cut-off value of F/R was 2.58 (sensitivity 80%, specificity 80%). Likewise, large fibroids with a volume rate reduction of <30% had an optimal cut-off volume of 1.69 (sensitivity 100%, specificity 70%). From a clinical perspective, both surgeons and radiologists could use SI of the predominant fibroid on T2W to predict response to GnRH agonist pretreatment.