We had a bridge fire here in Cincinnati last week. Two semis collided in the overnight hours. The collision ignited a blaze that burned at up to 1500 degrees Fahrenheit and took hours to quell. Fortunately, no one was killed or injured, but the bridge remains closed while investigators determine how much damage was done. It is expected to remain closed for at least another month.
Credit: WLWT |
Unfortunately, the bridge in question is the Brent Spence Bridge, which is the focal point for I-71 and I-75 between Ohio and Kentucky. It normally carries over 160,000 vehicles daily, and is one of the busiest trucking routes in the U.S. Over $1 billion of freight crosses each day. There are other bridges nearby, but each requires significant detouring, and none were designed for that traffic load.
What makes this all so galling is that it has been
recognized for over 25 years that the bridge has been, to quote the Federal
Highway Administration, “functionally obsolete” – yet no action was taken to
replace it. This most recent disaster
was a disaster hiding in plain sight.
Just like, as the coronavirus pandemic has
illustrated, we have in health care.
Brent Spence Bridge traffic. Credit: Build Our New Bridge Now |
Money is the problem, of course. The federal gasoline tax, intended to fund
interstate highways and bridges hasn’t been raised since 1993. There was talk about funding a new bridge via
tolls, but neither Kentucky nor Ohio politicians were keen to impose them; in
2016, the Kentucky legislature prohibited
using tolls for such a replacement. This
short-sighted parsimony isn’t limited to the Brent Spence Bridge, of course;
the American Society of Civil Engineers gives America’s infrastructure
a D+.
We know there is a problem, but we choose to ignore
it, letting future generations deal with it, and we certainly don’t opt to fund
addressing it. Just like we are doing
with climate change -- and just like we have done with our healthcare system.
Epidemiologists had long warned of a global pandemic. The Obama Administration prepared a detailed “playbook” for such a pandemic, but, nonetheless, the Trump Administration was caught flat-footed when COVID-19 hit. It’s easy to blame it for our lack of timely and comprehensive response, but not many state or local governments have covered themselves in glory for their responses either, not after years of public health cuts.
Our global, just-in-time systems for supplies was
found severely wanting in the case of an exponentially spreading global
pandemic, leaving healthcare workers short of essential protective gear and equipment
like ventilators.
Similarly, our testing efforts were botched
from the beginning. Even today accurate,
rapid tests remain a pipe dream, making it hard
to determine when someone has COVID-19, where they were infected, or who
they might have given it to.
As we’ve learned, COVID-19 hits
people with comorbidities hardest; as we’ve long known, the U.S. leads in world
in people with chronic conditions. It has also disproportionately
impacted people of color – reflected, in part, their increased likelihood
of being essential workers who cannot work from home, and underlying health
disparities.
Just within the past week, we’ve received promising
news on vaccines
from Pfizer and Moderna. Unfortunately,
vaccine development has become politicized.
Only half of Americans say
they are willing to get a COVID-19 vaccine, a figure that dropped twenty percentage
points from May to September. We should
not be surprised; American’s trust in vaccines generally had
been dropping even before COVID-19, as evidenced by the anti-vax
movement.
Credit: Jeff Dean/AFP via Getty Images |
We’ve thrown trillions of dollars at COVID-19 relief, including large amounts to the healthcare system, yet hospitals claim they are losing hundreds of billions of dollars, and our already weakened system of primary care is on the verge of collapse. Burnout among healthcare workers was already a problem, but the pandemic has caused it to reach new levels, especially when many people shun basic precautionary measures like masks or social distancing.
It’s embarrassing that in the richest country in the
world, 11% of the non-elderly lack
health coverage. It is disturbing
that 25% of Americans report
that they or a family member have put off treatment for a serious medical condition
in the past year due to cost – and that was before the pandemic. It is tragic that our morbidity
and mortality rates are, at best, middle-of-the-pack despite our extravagant
health care spending. And it is shameful
that, for measures like maternal
health or infant
mortality, our results are third-world, especially for persons of
color.
All of which is to say, the pandemic is a bridge fire,
all right, but it is taking place on a healthcare bridge that we’ve long known
is “functionally obsolete.”
We can’t entirely avoid bridge fires, but we can
design the bridges to minimize their likelihood and can ensure they are
structurally sound enough to withstand them.
Similarly, we can’t preclude the possibility of a pandemic, but we can have
the public heath infrastructure in place for one, and a healthcare system that
is robust enough to cope with one.
What we can’t do – or, rather, what we shouldn’t do –
is to wait for disasters to happen and only then try to figure out what to do.
In the case of a bridge fire, that might mean millions
of hours of traffic delays and probably higher prices for many goods. In the case of a pandemic, though, that means
hundreds of thousands of “excess deaths” and crippling economic impacts. It’s
no way to run a highway system and it’s most certainly no way to run a
healthcare system.
The pandemic may be healthcare’s bridge fire, but it didn’t
cause our healthcare system’s shortcomings; it only helped expose them. The question is, will it spur us to do
something about them?
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