Toronto physician Brian Goldman had thought about “joining the camp that favours private health care for Canada.” Writing in the Canadian Medical Association Journal, he tells us that he changed his mind after one of his cats experienced a series of illnesses and misadventures that resulted in a Can$3,101 medical bill. “I’m just glad,” he says, “that the cost of health care never entered my deliberations.”’

Canadian citizens and permanent residents are similarly free from most worries about the direct costs of their own medical care, and have been for more than a generation. This reflects a fundamental difference between the Canadian and United States contexts for health policy. Since the failure of President Clinton's first-term efforts to provide something approximating universal health insurance, reforms to the existing regime of providing and financing health care in the United States have been incremental, and primarily responsive to the changing nature of the health care marketplace. In Canada, universal publicly funded first-dollar coverage for most physicians’ and hospitals’ services has been a reality since the early 1970s.

Until approximately twenty years ago, advances in the study of human genetics had little influence on the practice of medicine. In the 1980s, this changed dramatically with the mapping of the altered genes that cause cystic fibrosis (CF) and Huntington disease (HD). In just a few years, these discoveries led to DNA-based tests that enabled clinicians to determine whether prospective parents were carriers of CF or whether an individual carried the Huntington gene and, as a result, would almost certainly develop the disease.

Observers interested in the social and economic implications of genetic technology realized that such genetic tests could be used by insurance companies to predict which insurance applicants were likely to become ill or even die from these diseases.

A decade ago, conventional wisdom in the medical establishment was that physicians treating chronic pain with opioid analgesics were at a substantial risk of being sanctioned for overprescribing by state medical regulatory boards. Dozens of articles written since have alluded to this risk as an obstacle to effective pain re1ief. In the early 1990s, a number of high profile cases in which physicians were disciplined by regulatory boards for overprescribing to patients with chronic pain were reported in the press. Although the board actions in many of these cases were eventually overturned by state judiciaries, the publicity heightened practitioners’. sensitivity to the regulatory risks associated with prescribing opioids.

A review of the available data on state medical board actions nationwide for the period from 1990 to 1996 reveals that the perception of regulatory risk far exceeds the reality. Indeed, relatively few (less than 5 percent) of the disciplinary actions taken for overprescribing by state medical boards in any given year directly concern the treatment of chronic pain—malignant or nonmalignant—in patients.

The February 1997 announcement of the birth of Dolly, the sheep cloned from a mammary cell of an adult ewe, has drawn attention to the growing ability to select, alter, or otherwise manipulate the genome of offspring. Prior to Dolly, ethical discussion of genes in reproduction had focused on negative selection: carrier screening, prenatal diagnosis, and abortion or embryo discard. After Dolly, ethical debate will have to consider the direct or positive use of genetic selection or alteration technology.

The principal use of genetic selection techniques in human reproduction (reprogenetics) likely will be to treat or prevent disease in offspring. In the future, however, such techniques might also be used to enhance or even diminish expected characteristics of progeny. Techniques to accomplish these goals are likely to include: selection of the nuclear genome, as occurs in somatic cell cloning; chromosomal transplants; or direct insertion or deletion of specific genes.

One of the most important questions in the debate over the morality of euthanasia and assisted suicide is whether an important distinction between killing patients and allowing them to die exists. The U.S. Supreme Court, in rejecting challenges to the constitutionality of laws prohibiting physician-assisted suicide (PAS), explicitly invoked this distinction, but did not explicate or defend it. The Second Circuit of the U.S. Court of Appeals had previously asserted, also without argument, that no meaningful distinction exists between killing and allowing to die. That court had reasoned that if this were so, it would be discriminatory to allow persons on life support to end their lives by removing such treatment, while those who are not connected to life support would be denied similar access to death.

In 1997, the United States incarcerated over 1.7 million persons in local jails and in state and federal prisons. These inmates are disproportionately poor and persons of color. Many lack adequate access to health care before incarceration and present to correctional services with major unaddressed medical problems.

Convictions for drug possession and use have increased the number of injection drug users with HIV and AIDS in prisons. Determinate sentencing and “three strikes and you’re out” laws have increased the number of inmates who are aging and dying during their sentences. Their feelings reflect those of Larry Rideau, sentenced to life without parole and founder of The Angolite—an award-winning prison newspaper at Louisiana's Angola Prison—“The dream of getting out, you equate with heaven. Dying in prison you equate with hell.”

Recently, due to a number of converging factors, there have been significant shifts in public policy regarding the legitimacy of treating chronic pain with opioids. Traditional tenets handed down in medical, dental, nursing, and pharmacy education created a distinct reluctance on the part of practitioners to prescribe opioids on a continual basis. Much has been written about the reasons for these attitudes. One of the barriers that is very consistently reported by prescribers is the fear of regulatory and legal repercussions to ongoing prescription of this class of medications. It is in this arena that sentinel changes have occurred, the most recent of which is the promulgation of a document prepared by the Federation of State Medical Boards (FSMB), which suggests a set of guidelines meant to be endorsed or adopted by individual medical licensing boards on how to approach this particular aspect of practice. These guidelines, representing a broad consensus from a wide constituency, were developed in a relatively open forum and detail a balanced approach to the prescription of opioids for chronic pain.

The interface between genetic research results and clinical practice occurs when patients present them- selves to physicians. When patients ask their doctors about the potential impact of a family disease on themselves, their children, and their grandchildren, physicians have an opportunity to be helpful. Unfortunately, the scientific discoveries are occurring faster than most physicians can read about them in their speciality journals and hence adjust their practice. Meanwhile, the press and media are proclaiming the latest scientific breakthroughs, creating a preventive and curative expectation that physicians cannot fulfill.

In this time of health system reorganization and consolidation, many people do not know who their primary caregiver is, no less which insurer is likely to cover which visit or genetic test.

Traditionally, organ retrieval from cadavers has taken place only in cases where the declaration of death has occurred using “brain death” criteria. Under these criteria, specific tests are performed to demonstrate directly a lack of brain activity. Recently, as a result of efforts to increase organ procurement, attention has been directed at the use of so-called “non-heart-beating” donors (NHBDs): individuals who are declared dead not as a result of direct measurements of brain function, but rather as a result of the cessation of heart and respiratory functions. Attempts to obtain organs from such individuals have recently resulted in substantial negative publicity. Claims were made that the deaths of patients were being accelerated in order to get organs, and that sometimes organs were being removed from patients who were not yet dead.

The most remarkable thing about the U.S. Supreme Court's 1998 decision in Bragdon v. Abbott was that it was necessary at all. Seventeen years into the epidemic of the acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS), the Supreme Court, by a mere 5-4 majority, finally affirmed what most public health officials, health providers, and lawyers working with people with human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) believed all along: that individuals with HIV infection are entitled to the protections of antidiscrimination law, and that health care providers must respond to a patient's infection based on reason and science, not fear and prejudice. For individuals with HIV, and for those with other disabilities, the Court's ruling was a critical victory. But the very fact that the issues had to be decided by the Supreme Court and that only five justices joined the majority, shows the fragility of legal rights pertaining to HIV as well as the wide gulf between the perspectives of public health and those of public law.

Physicians and other health care providers owe ethical and legal duties to patients to maintain the secrecy of the information learned during the course of patient care. This obligation is fulfilled by limiting access to such information to only those involved in the patient's care-that is, to those within the “circle of confidentiality.” As a general rule, providers may only disclose to others with the written prior consent of the patient. Exceptions may be “ethically and legally justified because of overriding social considerations,” when permitted or compelled by law. For example, eleven states permit providers to disclose identified records to approved researchers.’ Many states compel disclosure in cases where a patient threatens serious bodily harm to another; require reporting to health or law enforcement authorities of communicable diseases, gunshot or knife wounds, or child abuse; and mandate reporting of cancer or other health care cases to state registries (such as immunization, birth, and abortion).