The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly in Personalized Medicine
Is the value of "personalized medicine" over-promised? Why is the quality of health care declining for many people despite the pace of innovation? Do patients and doctors have conflicting priorities? What is the best path forward?
"How do we generate evidence for value, which is what everyone is asking for?"
Some of the country's leading medical experts recently debated these questions at the prestigious annual Personalized Medicine Conference, held at Harvard Medical School in Boston, and LeapsMag was there to bring you the inside scoop.
Personalized Medicine: Is It Living Up to the Hype?
The buzzworthy phrase "personalized medicine" has been touted for years as the way of the future—customizing care to patients based on their predicted responses to treatments given their individual genetic profiles or other analyses. Since the initial sequencing of the human genome around fifteen years ago, the field of genomics has exploded as the costs have dramatically come down – from $2.7 billion to $1000 or less today. Given cheap access to such crucial information, the medical field has been eager to embrace an ultramodern world in which preventing illnesses is status quo, and treatments can be tailored for maximum effectiveness. But whether that world has finally arrived remains debatable.
"I've been portrayed as an advocate for genomics, because I'm excited about it," said Robert C. Green, Director of the Genomes2People Research Program at Harvard Medical School, the Broad Institute, and Brigham and Women's Hospital. He qualified his advocacy by saying that he tries to remain 'equipoised' or balanced in his opinions about the future of personalized medicine, and expressed skepticism about some aspects of its rapid commercialization.
"I have strong feelings about some of the [precision medicine] products that are rushing out to market in both the physician-mediated space and the consumer space," Green said, and challenged the value and sustainability of these products, such as their clinical utility and ability to help produce favorable health outcomes. He asked what most patients and providers want to know, which is, "What are the medical, behavioral, and economic outcomes? How do we generate evidence for value, which is what everyone is asking for?" He later questioned whether the use of 'sexy' and expensive diagnostic technologies is necessarily better than doing things the old-fashioned way. For instance, it is much easier and cheaper to ask a patient directly about their family history of disease, instead of spending thousands of dollars to obtain the same information with pricey diagnostic tests.
"Our mantra is to try to do data-driven health...to catch disease when it occurs early."
Michael Snyder, Professor & Chair of the Department of Genetics and Director of the Center for Genomics and Personalized Medicine at Stanford University, called himself more of an 'enthusiast' about precision medicine products like wearable devices that can digitally track vital signs, including heart rate and blood oxygen levels. "I'm certainly not equipoised," he said, adding, "Our mantra is to try to do data-driven health. We are using this to try to understand health and catch disease when it occurs early."
Snyder then shared his personal account about how his own wearable device alerted him to seek treatment while he was traveling in Norway. "My blood oxygen was low and my heart rate was high, so that told me something was up," he shared. After seeing a doctor, he discovered he was suffering from Lyme disease. He then shared other similar success stories about some of the patients in his department. Using wearable health sensors, he said, could significantly reduce health care costs: "$245 billion is spent every year on diabetes, and if we reduce that by ten percent we just saved $24 billion."
From left, Robert Green, Michael Snyder, Sandro Galea, and Thomas Miller.
(Courtesy Rachele Hendricks-Sturrup)
A Core Reality: Unresolved Societal Issues
Sandro Galea, Dean and Professor at Boston University's School of Public Health, coined himself as a 'skeptic' but also an 'enormous fan' of new technologies. He said, "I want to make sure that you all [the audience] have the best possible treatment for me when I get sick," but added, "In our rush and enthusiasm to embrace personalized and precision medicine approaches, we have done that at the peril of forgetting a lot of core realities."
"There's no one to pay for health care but all of us."
Galea stressed the need to first address certain difficult societal issues because failing to do so will deter precision medicine cures in the future. "Unless we pay attention to domestic violence, housing, racism, poor access to care, and poverty… we are all going to lose," he said. Then he quoted recent statistics about the country's growing gap in both health and wealth, which could potentially erode patient and provider interest in personalized medicine.
Thomas Miller, the founder and partner of a venture capital firm dedicated to advancing precision medicine, agreed with Galea and said that "there's no one to pay for health care but all of us." He recalled witnessing 'abuse' of diagnostic technologies that he had previously invested in. "They were often used as mechanisms to provide unnecessary care rather than appropriate care," he said. "The trend over my 30-year professional career has been that of sensitivity over specificity."
In other words: doctors rely too heavily on diagnostic tools that are sensitive enough to detect signs of a disease, but not accurate enough to confirm the presence of a specific disease. "You will always find that you're sick from something," Miller said. He lamented the counter-productivity and waste brought on by such 'abuse' and added, "That's money that could be used to address some of the problems that you [Galea] just talked about."
Do Patients and Providers Have Conflicting Priorities?
Distrust in the modern health care system is not new in the United States. That fact that medical errors were the third leading cause of death in 2016 may have fueled this mistrust even more. And the level of mistrust appears correlated with race; a recent survey of 118 adults between 18 to 75 years old showed that black respondents were less likely to trust their doctors than the non-Hispanic white respondents. The black respondents were also more concerned about personal privacy and potentially harmful hospital experimentation.
"The vast majority of physicians in this country are incentivized to keep you sick."
As if this context weren't troubling enough, some of the panelists suggested that health care providers and patients have misaligned goals, which may be financially driven.
For instance, Galea stated that health care is currently 'curative' even though that money is better spent on prevention versus cures. "The vast majority of physicians in this country are incentivized to keep you sick," he declared. "They are paid by sick patient visits. Hospital CEOs are paid by the number of sick people they have in their beds." He highlighted this issue as a national priority and mentioned some case studies showing that the behaviors of hospital CEOs quickly change when payment is based on the number of patients in beds versus the number of patients being kept out of the beds. Green lauded Galea's comment as "good sense."
Green also cautioned the audience about potential financial conflicts of interest held by proponents of precision medicine technologies. "Many of the people who are promoting genomics and personalized medicine are people who have financial interests in that arena," he warned. He emphasized that those who are perhaps curbing the over-enthusiasm do not have financial interests at stake.
What is the Best Path Forward for Personalized Medicine?
As useful as personalized medicine may be for selecting the best course of treatment, there is also the flip side: It can allow doctors to predict who will not respond well—and this painful reality must be acknowledged.
Miller argued, "We have a duty to call out therapies that won't work, that will not heal, that need to be avoided, and that will ultimately lead to you saying to a patient, 'There is nothing for you that will work.'"
Although that may sound harsh, it captures the essence of this emerging paradigm, which is to maximize health by using tailored methods that are based on comparative effectiveness, evidence of outcomes, and patient preferences. After all, as Miller pointed out, it wouldn't do much good to prescribe someone a regimen with little reason to think it might help.
For the hype around personalized medicine to be fully realized, Green concluded, "We have to prove to people that [the value of it] is true."
Opioid prescription policies may hurt those in chronic pain
Tinu Abayomi-Paul works as a writer and activist, plus one unwanted job: Trying to fill her opioid prescription. She says that some pharmacists laugh and tell her that no one needs the amount of pain medication that she is seeking. Another pharmacist near her home in Venus, Tex., refused to fill more than seven days of a 30-day prescription.
To get a new prescription—partially filled opioid prescriptions can’t be dispensed later—Abayomi-Paul needed to return to her doctor’s office. But without her medication, she was having too much pain to travel there, much less return to the pharmacy. She rationed out the pills over several weeks, an agonizing compromise that left her unable to work, interact with her children, sleep restfully, or leave the house. “Don’t I deserve to do more than survive?” she says.
Abayomi-Paul’s pain results from a degenerative spine disorder, chronic lymphocytic leukemia, and more than a dozen other diagnoses and disabilities. She is part of a growing group of people with chronic pain who have been negatively impacted by the fallout from efforts to prevent opioid overdose deaths.
Guidelines for dispensing these pills are complicated because many opioids, like codeine, oxycodone, and morphine, are prescribed legally for pain. Yet, deaths from opioids have increased rapidly since 1999 and become a national emergency. Many of them, such as heroin, are used illegally. The CDC identified three surges in opioid use: an increase in opioid prescriptions in the ‘90s, a surge of heroin around 2010, and an influx of fentanyl and other powerful synthetic opioids in 2013.
As overdose deaths grew, so did public calls to address them, prompting the CDC to change its prescription guidelines in 2016. The new guidelines suggested limiting medication for acute pain to a seven-day supply, capping daily doses of morphine, and other restrictions. Some statistics suggest that these policies have worked; from 2016 to 2019, prescriptions for opiates fell 44 percent. Physicians also started progressively lowering opioid doses for patients, a practice called tapering. A study tracking nearly 100,000 Medicare subscribers on opioids found that about 13 percent of patients were tapering in 2012, and that number increased to about 23 percent by 2017.
But some physicians may be too aggressive with this tapering strategy. About one in four people had doses reduced by more than 10 percent per week, a rate faster than the CDC recommends. The approach left people like Abayomi-Paul without the medication they needed. Every year, Abayomi-Paul says, her prescriptions are harder to fill. David Brushwood, a pharmacy professor who specializes in policy and outcomes at the University of Florida in Gainesville, says opioid dosing isn’t one-size-fits-all. “Patients need to be taken care of individually, not based on what some government agency says they need,” he says.
‘This is not survivable’
Health policy and disability rights attorney Erin Gilmer advocated for people with pain, using her own experience with chronic pain and a host of medical conditions as a guidepost. She launched an advocacy website, Healthcare as a Human Right, and shared her struggles on Twitter: “This pain is more than anything I've endured before and I've already been through too much. Yet because it's not simply identified no one believes it's as bad as it is. This is not survivable.”
When her pain dramatically worsened midway through 2021, Gilmer’s posts grew ominous: “I keep thinking it can't possibly get worse but somehow every day is worse than the last.”
The CDC revised its guidelines in 2022 after criticisms that people with chronic pain were being undertreated, enduring dangerous withdrawal symptoms, and suffering psychological distress. (Long-term opioid use can cause physical dependency, an adaptive reaction that is different than the compulsive misuse associated with a substance use disorder.) It was too late for Gilmer. On July 7, 2021, the 38-year-old died by suicide.
Last August, an Ohio district court ruling set forth a new requirement for Walgreens, Walmart, and CVS pharmacists in two counties. These pharmacists must now document opioid prescriptions that are turned down, even for customers who have no previous purchases at that pharmacy, and they’re required to share this information with other locations in the same chain. None of the three pharmacies responded to an interview request from Leaps.org.
In a practice called red flagging, pharmacists may label a prescription suspicious for a variety of reasons, such as if a pharmacist observes an unusually high dose, a long distance from the patient’s home to the pharmacy, or cash payment. Pharmacists may question patients or prescribers to resolve red flags but, regardless of the explanation, they’re free to refuse to fill a prescription.
As the risk of litigation has grown, so has finger-pointing, says Seth Whitelaw, a compliance consultant at Whitelaw Compliance Group in West Chester, PA, who advises drug, medical device, and biotech companies. Drugmakers accused in National Prescription Opioid Litigation (NPOL), a complex set of thousands of cases on opioid epidemic deaths, which includes the Ohio district case, have argued that they shouldn’t be responsible for the large supply of opiates and overdose deaths. Yet, prosecutors alleged that these pharmaceutical companies hid addiction and overdose risks when labeling opioids, while distributors and pharmacists failed to identify suspicious orders or scripts.
Patients and pharmacists fear red flags
The requirements that pharmacists document prescriptions they refuse to fill so far only apply to two counties in Ohio. But Brushwood fears they will spread because of this precedent, and because there’s no way for pharmacists to predict what new legislation is on the way. “There is no definition of a red flag, there are no lists of red flags. There is no instruction on what to do when a red flag is detected. There’s no guidance on how to document red flags. It is a standardless responsibility,” Brushwood says. This adds trepidation for pharmacists—and more hoops to jump through for patients.
“I went into the doctor one day here and she said, ‘I'm going to stop prescribing opioids to all my patients effective immediately,” Nicolson says.
“We now have about a dozen studies that show that actually ripping somebody off their medication increases their risk of overdose and suicide by three to five times, destabilizes their health and mental health, often requires some hospitalization or emergency care, and can cause heart attacks,” says Kate Nicolson, founder of the National Pain Advocacy Center based in Boulder, Colorado. “It can kill people.” Nicolson was in pain for decades due to a surgical injury to the nerves leading to her spinal cord before surgeries fixed the problem.
Another issue is that primary care offices may view opioid use as a reason to turn down new patients. In a 2021 study, secret shoppers called primary care clinics in nine states, identifying themselves as long-term opioid users. When callers said their opioids were discontinued because their former physician retired, as opposed to an unspecified reason, they were more likely to be offered an appointment. Even so, more than 40 percent were refused an appointment. The study authors say their findings suggest that some physicians may try to avoid treating people who use opioids.
Abayomi-Paul says red flagging has changed how she fills prescriptions. “Once I go to one place, I try to [continue] going to that same place because of the amount of records that I have and making sure my medications don’t conflict,” Abayomi-Paul says.
Nicolson moved to Colorado from Washington D.C. in 2015, before the CDC issued its 2016 guidelines. When the guidelines came out, she found the change to be shockingly abrupt. “I went into the doctor one day here and she said, ‘I'm going to stop prescribing opioids to all my patients effective immediately.’” Since then, she’s spoken with dozens of patients who have been red-flagged or simply haven’t been able to access pain medication.
Despite her expertise, Nicolson isn’t positive she could successfully fill an opioid prescription today even if she needed one. At this point, she’s not sure exactly what various pharmacies would view as a red flag. And she’s not confident that these red flags even work. “You can have very legitimate reasons for being 50 miles away or having to go to multiple pharmacies, given that there are drug shortages now, as well as someone refusing to fill [a prescription.] It doesn't mean that you’re necessarily ‘drug seeking.’”
While there’s no easy solution. Whitelaw says clarifying the role of pharmacists and physicians in patient access to opioids could help people get the medication they need. He is seeking policy changes that focus on the needs of people in pain more than the number of prescriptions filled. He also advocates standardizing the definition of red flags and procedures for resolving them. Still, there will never be a single policy that can be applied to all people, explains Brushwood, the University of Florida professor. “You have to make a decision about each individual prescription.”
This article is part of the magazine, "The Future of Science In America: The Election Issue," co-published by LeapsMag, the Aspen Institute Science & Society Program, and GOOD.
When COVID-19 cases were surging in New York City in early spring, Chitra Mohan, a postdoctoral fellow at Weill Cornell, was overwhelmed with worry. But the pandemic was only part of her anxieties. Having come to the United States from India on a student visa that allowed her to work for a year after completing her degree, she had applied for a two-year extension, typically granted for those in STEM fields. But due to a clerical error—Mohan used an electronic signatureinstead of a handwritten one— her application was denied and she could no longerwork in the United States.
"I was put on unpaid leave and I lost my apartment and my health insurance—and that was in the middle of COVID!" she says.
Meanwhile her skills were very much needed in those unprecedented times. A molecular biologist studying how DNA can repair itself, Mohan was trained in reverse transcription polymerase chain reaction or RT-PCR—a lab technique that detects pathogens and is used to diagnose COVID-19. Mohan wanted to volunteer at testing centers, but because she couldn't legally work in the U.S., she wasn't allowed to help either. She moved to her cousin's house, hired a lawyer, and tried to restore her work status.
"I spent about $4,000 on lawyer fees and another $1,200 to pay for the motions I filed," she recalls. "I had to borrow money from my parents and my cousin because without my salary I just didn't have the $7,000 at hand." But the already narrow window of opportunity slammed completely shut when the Trump administration suspended issuing new visas for foreign researchers in June. All Mohan's attempts were denied. In August, she had to leave the country. "Given the recent work visa ban by the administration, all my options in the U.S. are closed," she wrote a bitter note on Twitter. "I have to uproot my entire life in NY for the past 6 years and leave." She eventually found a temporary position in Calcutta, where she can continue research.
Mohan is hardly alone in her visa saga. Many foreign scholars on H- and J-type visas and other permits that let them remain employed in America had been struggling to keep their rights to continue research, which in certain cases is crucial to battling the pandemic. Some had to leave the country, some filed every possible extension to buy time, and others are stuck in their home countries, unable to return. The already cumbersome process of applying for visas and extensions became crippled during the lockdowns. But in June, when President Trump extended and expanded immigration restrictions to cut the number of immigrant workers entering the U.S., the new limits left researchers' projects and careers in limbo—and some in jeopardy.
"We have been a beneficiary of this flow of human capacity and resource investment for many generations—and this is now threatened."
Rakesh Ramachandran, whose computational biology work contributed to one of the first coronavirus studies to map out its protein structures—is stranded in India. In early March, he had travelled there to attend a conference and visit the American consulate to stamp his H1 visa for a renewal, already granted. The pandemic shut down both the conference and the consulates, and Ramachandran hasn't been able to come back since. The consulates finally opened in September, but so far the online portal has no available appointment slots. "I'm told to keep trying," Ramachandran says.
The visa restrictions affected researchers worldwide, regardless of disciplines or countries. A Ph.D. student in neuroscience, Morgane Leroux had to do her experiments with mice at Gladstone Institutes in America and analyze the data back home at Sorbonne University in France. She had finished her first round of experiments when the lockdowns forced her to return to Paris, and she hasn't been able to come back to resume her work since. "I can't continue the experiments, which is really frustrating," she says, especially because she doesn't know what it means for her Ph.D. "I may have to entirely change my subject," she says, which she doesn't want to do—it would be a waste of time and money.
But besides wreaking havoc in scholars' personal lives and careers, the visa restrictions had—and will continue to have—tremendous deleterious effects on America's research and its global scientific competitiveness. "It's incredibly short-sighted and self-destructing to restrict the immigration of scientists into the U.S.," says Benjamin G. Neel, who directs the Laura and Isaac Perlmutter Cancer Center at New York University. "If they can't come here, they will go elsewhere," he says, causing a brain drain.
Neel in his lab with postdocs
(Courtesy of Neel)
Neel felt the outcomes of the shortsighted policies firsthand. In the past few months, his lab lost two postdoctoral researchers who had made major strides in understanding the biology of several particularly stubborn, treatment-resistant malignancies. One postdoc studied the underlying mechanisms responsible for 90 percent of pancreatic cancers and half of the colon ones. The other one devised a new system of modeling ovarian cancer in mice to test new therapeutic drug combinations for the deadliest tumor types—but had to return home to China.
"By working around the clock, she was able to get her paper accepted, but she hasn't been able to train us to use this new system, which can set us back six months," Neel says.
Her discoveries also helped the lab secure about $900,000 in grants for new research. Losing people like this is "literally killing the goose that lays the golden eggs," Neel adds. "If you want to make America poor again, this is the way to do it."
Cassidy R. Sugimoto at Indiana University Bloomington, who studies how scientific knowledge is produced and disseminated, says that scientists are the most productive when they are free to move, exchange ideas, and work at labs with the best equipment. Restricting that freedom reduces their achievement.
"Several empirical studied demonstrated the benefits to the U.S. by attracting and retaining foreign scientists. The disproportional number of our Nobel Prize winners were not only foreign-born but also foreign-educated," she says. Scientific advancement bolsters the country's economic prowess, too, so turning scholars away is bad for the economy long-term. "We have been a beneficiary of this flow of human capacity and resource investment for many generations—and this is now threatened," Sugimoto adds—because scientists will look elsewhere. "We are seeing them shifting to other countries that are more hospitable, both ideologically and in terms of health security. Many visiting scholars, postdocs, and graduate students who would otherwise come to the United States are now moving to Canada."
It's not only the Ph.D. students and postdocs who are affected. In some cases, even well-established professors who have already made their marks in the field and direct their own labs at prestigious research institutions may have to pack up and leave the country in the next few months. One scientist who directs a prominent neuroscience lab is betting on his visa renewal and a green card application, but if that's denied, the entire lab may be in jeopardy, as many grants hinge on his ability to stay employed in America.
"It's devastating to even think that it can happen," he says—after years of efforts invested. "I can't even comprehend how it would feel. It would be terrifying and really sad." (He asked to withhold his name for fear that it may adversely affect his applications.) Another scientist who originally shared her story for this article, later changed her mind and withdrew, worrying that speaking out may hurt the entire project, a high-profile COVID-19 effort. It's not how things should work in a democratic country, scientists admit, but that's the reality.
Still, some foreign scholars are speaking up. Mehmet Doğan, a physicist at University of California Berkeley who has been fighting a visa extension battle all year, says it's important to push back in an organized fashion with petitions and engage legislators. "This administration was very creative in finding subtle and not so subtle ways to make our lives more difficult," Doğan says. He adds that the newest rules, proposed by the Department of Homeland Security on September 24, could further limit the time scholars can stay, forcing them into continuous extension battles. That's why the upcoming election might be a turning point for foreign academics. "This election will decide if many of us will see the U.S. as the place to stay and work or whether we look at other countries," Doğan says, echoing the worries of Neel, Sugimoto, and others in academia.
Dogan on Zoom talking to his fellow union members of the Academic Researchers United, a union of almost 5,000 Academic Researchers.
(Credit: Ceyda Durmaz Dogan)
If this year has shown us anything, it is that viruses and pandemics know no borders as they sweep across the globe. Likewise, science can't be restrained by borders either. "Science is an international endeavor," says Neel—and right now humankind now needs unified scientific research more than ever, unhindered by immigration hurdles and visa wars. Humanity's wellbeing in America and beyond depends on it.
[Editor's Note: To read other articles in this special magazine issue, visit the beautifully designed e-reader version.]
Lina Zeldovich has written about science, medicine and technology for Popular Science, Smithsonian, National Geographic, Scientific American, Reader’s Digest, the New York Times and other major national and international publications. A Columbia J-School alumna, she has won several awards for her stories, including the ASJA Crisis Coverage Award for Covid reporting, and has been a contributing editor at Nautilus Magazine. In 2021, Zeldovich released her first book, The Other Dark Matter, published by the University of Chicago Press, about the science and business of turning waste into wealth and health. You can find her on http://linazeldovich.com/ and @linazeldovich.