Yash B. Shah

Pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly recently announced that its newly approved weight loss medication Zepbound — a glucagon-like peptide 1 receptor agonist (GLP-1 RA) akin to Mounjaro, Ozempic, and Wegovy — will be prescribed by independent telehealth providers on a platform managed by the company itself. The drug can be subsequently shipped direct to consumer (DTC), allowing delivery straight to patients’ homes. 

This arrangement raises serious concerns about an inherent conflict of interest, as we previously discussed. What happens when a pharmaceutical company influences access to remote providers who prescribe the very medications it manufactures? Will these remote providers truly put the patient’s interest first when debating their safety and appropriate use? Whom will patients consult if they have concerns after initiating the medication?

Without new guardrails, the potential for misleading messaging to result in dangerous prescribing patterns looms large. The United States is one of only two countries to allow DTC advertising of prescription drugs, and the explosion in demand for GLP-1 RAs is partly attributable to this model (Oh, oh, Ozempic, anyone?). Americans spent over $78 billion on weight loss goods and services in 2019; time-intensive approaches such as diet and exercise are understandably difficult, and the public has always looked for a magic cure. Although GLP-1 RAs are promising, they may present a path to disaster without proper supervision.

LillyDirect, which in addition to Zepbound offers migraine medications and other products in the company’s catalogue, primarily aims to increase access to medication and reduce costs of the drugs for consumers. The stated mission is noble: By cutting out the middlemen of traditional pharmacies and benefit managers, administrative costs drop. LillyDirect goes a step further by reducing the need for patients to visit their regular family doctor to receive these medications.

On the surface, this design appears promising. Wait times for doctor’s appointments will fall. Patients can order drugs from the comfort of their home. Everyone benefits. Or do they? 

Although easier access and reduced cost may be an apparent win for patients, DTC arrangements complicate the ethics of prescriptions and patient follow-up. This model reminds us of the roots of the opioid crisis, where powerful advertising and relationships between prescribers and drugmakers led to great harm. Providers often faced a conflict of interest when prescribing dangerous drugs to patients who requested them. We must learn from these mistakes to ensure there is critical oversight into the independence of prescribers used by LillyDirect and other DTC platforms.

Adding to these parallels, once a patient begins a GLP-1 medication such as Zepbound, stopping treatment will probably lead to regaining lost weight, serving as negative reinforcement. Hence, patients may decide never to discontinue these medications.

Obtaining what amounts to a lifelong prescription from a telehealth provider who may never follow a patient sets a dangerous precedent that will be difficult to unravel once begun. Recent challenges in access to medications such as Zepbound have been complicated by supply chain and manufacturing issues, leading to potential interruptions in patient access, ultimately affecting compliance. The rapid increase in online providers indicates competition for distribution channels has sharply increased and poses a threat to Lilly’s DTC site. 

Furthermore, the lack of a regular physician to monitor patients introduces uncertainty in safety and continuity of care. These are important tenets in protecting patients, especially patients who are not diabetic and desire a quick fix. We have already seen a huge, arguably unrestrained, rise in prescriptions of GLP-1 RAs for weight loss — up to a 352% increase in 2023.

These drugs have shown great promise and are generally safe when used in the right patient, but important contraindications exist — namely, serious gastrointestinal side effects and low blood glucose in nondiabetic persons — that an astute physician must consider. Patients desiring these medications often must undergo comprehensive laboratory testing and cardiac evaluation, both before initiation and during regular follow-up, to check for comorbidities.

The American College of Physicians cautioned against such prescribing practices in a recent position statement, emphasizing that the lack of an established care provider could adversely affect patients. We note that the potential harms of DTC sales would concentrate in economically and racially underserved communities, where obesity, lack of insurance, and low health literacy are more common. 

But the DTC genie is out of the pill bottle, and as such platforms become more common, patients will inherently take more ownership over their medical care. Remote providers will of course not be following these patients and evaluating for side effects. As a result, we in medical practice must be abreast of new downsides of these medications if and when they arise. 

Every clinician must be aware of the medications a patient is taking, even those that they did not prescribe. They should educate their patients about drug-drug interactions and side effects and order lab tests to monitor for side effects. 

Independent physicians abide by an underlying oath: First, do no harm. They serve as a trusted check on industry and a valuable long-term partner for patients. Where are the guardrails to protect patients and ensure that pharmaceutical companies are not essentially pushing prescriptions for their own products? Will traditional healthcare providers be effectively relegated to a bystander role in Lilly’s transactional approach to medication distribution? Unlike other commercial goods, pharmacologics have great nuance; not every approved medication is meant for every patient.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

Pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly recently announced that its newly approved weight loss medication Zepbound — a glucagon-like peptide 1 receptor agonist (GLP-1 RA) akin to Mounjaro, Ozempic, and Wegovy — will be prescribed by independent telehealth providers on a platform managed by the company itself. The drug can be subsequently shipped direct to consumer (DTC), allowing delivery straight to patients’ homes. 

This arrangement raises serious concerns about an inherent conflict of interest, as we previously discussed. What happens when a pharmaceutical company influences access to remote providers who prescribe the very medications it manufactures? Will these remote providers truly put the patient’s interest first when debating their safety and appropriate use? Whom will patients consult if they have concerns after initiating the medication?

Without new guardrails, the potential for misleading messaging to result in dangerous prescribing patterns looms large. The United States is one of only two countries to allow DTC advertising of prescription drugs, and the explosion in demand for GLP-1 RAs is partly attributable to this model (Oh, oh, Ozempic, anyone?). Americans spent over $78 billion on weight loss goods and services in 2019; time-intensive approaches such as diet and exercise are understandably difficult, and the public has always looked for a magic cure. Although GLP-1 RAs are promising, they may present a path to disaster without proper supervision.

LillyDirect, which in addition to Zepbound offers migraine medications and other products in the company’s catalogue, primarily aims to increase access to medication and reduce costs of the drugs for consumers. The stated mission is noble: By cutting out the middlemen of traditional pharmacies and benefit managers, administrative costs drop. LillyDirect goes a step further by reducing the need for patients to visit their regular family doctor to receive these medications.

On the surface, this design appears promising. Wait times for doctor’s appointments will fall. Patients can order drugs from the comfort of their home. Everyone benefits. Or do they? 

Although easier access and reduced cost may be an apparent win for patients, DTC arrangements complicate the ethics of prescriptions and patient follow-up. This model reminds us of the roots of the opioid crisis, where powerful advertising and relationships between prescribers and drugmakers led to great harm. Providers often faced a conflict of interest when prescribing dangerous drugs to patients who requested them. We must learn from these mistakes to ensure there is critical oversight into the independence of prescribers used by LillyDirect and other DTC platforms.

Adding to these parallels, once a patient begins a GLP-1 medication such as Zepbound, stopping treatment will probably lead to regaining lost weight, serving as negative reinforcement. Hence, patients may decide never to discontinue these medications.

Obtaining what amounts to a lifelong prescription from a telehealth provider who may never follow a patient sets a dangerous precedent that will be difficult to unravel once begun. Recent challenges in access to medications such as Zepbound have been complicated by supply chain and manufacturing issues, leading to potential interruptions in patient access, ultimately affecting compliance. The rapid increase in online providers indicates competition for distribution channels has sharply increased and poses a threat to Lilly’s DTC site. 

Furthermore, the lack of a regular physician to monitor patients introduces uncertainty in safety and continuity of care. These are important tenets in protecting patients, especially patients who are not diabetic and desire a quick fix. We have already seen a huge, arguably unrestrained, rise in prescriptions of GLP-1 RAs for weight loss — up to a 352% increase in 2023.

These drugs have shown great promise and are generally safe when used in the right patient, but important contraindications exist — namely, serious gastrointestinal side effects and low blood glucose in nondiabetic persons — that an astute physician must consider. Patients desiring these medications often must undergo comprehensive laboratory testing and cardiac evaluation, both before initiation and during regular follow-up, to check for comorbidities.

The American College of Physicians cautioned against such prescribing practices in a recent position statement, emphasizing that the lack of an established care provider could adversely affect patients. We note that the potential harms of DTC sales would concentrate in economically and racially underserved communities, where obesity, lack of insurance, and low health literacy are more common. 

But the DTC genie is out of the pill bottle, and as such platforms become more common, patients will inherently take more ownership over their medical care. Remote providers will of course not be following these patients and evaluating for side effects. As a result, we in medical practice must be abreast of new downsides of these medications if and when they arise. 

Every clinician must be aware of the medications a patient is taking, even those that they did not prescribe. They should educate their patients about drug-drug interactions and side effects and order lab tests to monitor for side effects. 

Independent physicians abide by an underlying oath: First, do no harm. They serve as a trusted check on industry and a valuable long-term partner for patients. Where are the guardrails to protect patients and ensure that pharmaceutical companies are not essentially pushing prescriptions for their own products? Will traditional healthcare providers be effectively relegated to a bystander role in Lilly’s transactional approach to medication distribution? Unlike other commercial goods, pharmacologics have great nuance; not every approved medication is meant for every patient.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

Pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly recently announced that its newly approved weight loss medication Zepbound — a glucagon-like peptide 1 receptor agonist (GLP-1 RA) akin to Mounjaro, Ozempic, and Wegovy — will be prescribed by independent telehealth providers on a platform managed by the company itself. The drug can be subsequently shipped direct to consumer (DTC), allowing delivery straight to patients’ homes. 

This arrangement raises serious concerns about an inherent conflict of interest, as we previously discussed. What happens when a pharmaceutical company influences access to remote providers who prescribe the very medications it manufactures? Will these remote providers truly put the patient’s interest first when debating their safety and appropriate use? Whom will patients consult if they have concerns after initiating the medication?

Without new guardrails, the potential for misleading messaging to result in dangerous prescribing patterns looms large. The United States is one of only two countries to allow DTC advertising of prescription drugs, and the explosion in demand for GLP-1 RAs is partly attributable to this model (Oh, oh, Ozempic, anyone?). Americans spent over $78 billion on weight loss goods and services in 2019; time-intensive approaches such as diet and exercise are understandably difficult, and the public has always looked for a magic cure. Although GLP-1 RAs are promising, they may present a path to disaster without proper supervision.

LillyDirect, which in addition to Zepbound offers migraine medications and other products in the company’s catalogue, primarily aims to increase access to medication and reduce costs of the drugs for consumers. The stated mission is noble: By cutting out the middlemen of traditional pharmacies and benefit managers, administrative costs drop. LillyDirect goes a step further by reducing the need for patients to visit their regular family doctor to receive these medications.

On the surface, this design appears promising. Wait times for doctor’s appointments will fall. Patients can order drugs from the comfort of their home. Everyone benefits. Or do they? 

Although easier access and reduced cost may be an apparent win for patients, DTC arrangements complicate the ethics of prescriptions and patient follow-up. This model reminds us of the roots of the opioid crisis, where powerful advertising and relationships between prescribers and drugmakers led to great harm. Providers often faced a conflict of interest when prescribing dangerous drugs to patients who requested them. We must learn from these mistakes to ensure there is critical oversight into the independence of prescribers used by LillyDirect and other DTC platforms.

Adding to these parallels, once a patient begins a GLP-1 medication such as Zepbound, stopping treatment will probably lead to regaining lost weight, serving as negative reinforcement. Hence, patients may decide never to discontinue these medications.

Obtaining what amounts to a lifelong prescription from a telehealth provider who may never follow a patient sets a dangerous precedent that will be difficult to unravel once begun. Recent challenges in access to medications such as Zepbound have been complicated by supply chain and manufacturing issues, leading to potential interruptions in patient access, ultimately affecting compliance. The rapid increase in online providers indicates competition for distribution channels has sharply increased and poses a threat to Lilly’s DTC site. 

Furthermore, the lack of a regular physician to monitor patients introduces uncertainty in safety and continuity of care. These are important tenets in protecting patients, especially patients who are not diabetic and desire a quick fix. We have already seen a huge, arguably unrestrained, rise in prescriptions of GLP-1 RAs for weight loss — up to a 352% increase in 2023.

These drugs have shown great promise and are generally safe when used in the right patient, but important contraindications exist — namely, serious gastrointestinal side effects and low blood glucose in nondiabetic persons — that an astute physician must consider. Patients desiring these medications often must undergo comprehensive laboratory testing and cardiac evaluation, both before initiation and during regular follow-up, to check for comorbidities.

The American College of Physicians cautioned against such prescribing practices in a recent position statement, emphasizing that the lack of an established care provider could adversely affect patients. We note that the potential harms of DTC sales would concentrate in economically and racially underserved communities, where obesity, lack of insurance, and low health literacy are more common. 

But the DTC genie is out of the pill bottle, and as such platforms become more common, patients will inherently take more ownership over their medical care. Remote providers will of course not be following these patients and evaluating for side effects. As a result, we in medical practice must be abreast of new downsides of these medications if and when they arise. 

Every clinician must be aware of the medications a patient is taking, even those that they did not prescribe. They should educate their patients about drug-drug interactions and side effects and order lab tests to monitor for side effects. 

Independent physicians abide by an underlying oath: First, do no harm. They serve as a trusted check on industry and a valuable long-term partner for patients. Where are the guardrails to protect patients and ensure that pharmaceutical companies are not essentially pushing prescriptions for their own products? Will traditional healthcare providers be effectively relegated to a bystander role in Lilly’s transactional approach to medication distribution? Unlike other commercial goods, pharmacologics have great nuance; not every approved medication is meant for every patient.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

“I’m not getting the vaccine. Nobody knows the long-term effects, and I heard that people are getting clots.”

We were screening patients at a low-cost clinic in Philadelphia for concerns surrounding social determinants of health. During one patient visit, in addition to concerns including housing, medication affordability, and transportation, we found that she had not received the COVID-19 vaccine, and we asked if she was interested in being immunized.

News reports have endlessly covered antivaccine sentiment, but this personal encounter hit home. From simple face masks to groundbreaking vaccines, we failed as physicians to encourage widespread uptake of health-protective measures despite strong scientific backing.

Large swaths of the public deny these tools’ importance or question their safety. This is ultimately rooted in the inability of community leaders and health care professionals to communicate with the public.

Science communication is inherently difficult. Scientists use complex language, and it is hard to evaluate the lay public’s baseline knowledge. Moreover, we are trained to speak with qualifications, encourage doubt, and accept change and evolution of fact. These qualities contrast the definitive messaging necessary in public settings. COVID-19 highlighted these gaps, where regardless of novel scientific solutions, poor communication led to a resistance to accept the tested scientific solution, which ultimately was the rate-limiting factor for overcoming the virus.

As directors of Physician Executive Leadership, an organization that trains future physicians at Thomas Jefferson University to tackle emerging health care issues, we hosted Paul Offit, MD, a national media figure and vaccine advocate. Dr. Offit shared his personal growth during the pandemic, from being abruptly thrown into the spotlight to eventually honing his communication skills. Dr. Offit discussed the challenges of sharing medical knowledge with laypeople and adaptations that are necessary. We found this transformative, realizing the importance of science communication training early in medical education.

Emphasizing the humanities and building soft skills will improve outcomes and benefit broader society by producing physician-leaders in public health and policy. We hope to improve our own communication skills and work in medical education to incorporate similar training into education paradigms for future students.

As seen in our patient interaction, strong science alone will not drive patient adherence; instead, we must work at personal and system levels to induce change. Physicians have a unique opportunity to generate trust and guide evidence-based policy. We must communicate, whether one-on-one with patients, or to millions of viewers via media or policymaker settings. We hope to not only be doctors, but to be advocates, leaders, and trusted advisers for the public.

Mr. Kieran and Mr. Shah are second-year medical students at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia. Neither disclosed any relevant conflicts of interest. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

“I’m not getting the vaccine. Nobody knows the long-term effects, and I heard that people are getting clots.”

We were screening patients at a low-cost clinic in Philadelphia for concerns surrounding social determinants of health. During one patient visit, in addition to concerns including housing, medication affordability, and transportation, we found that she had not received the COVID-19 vaccine, and we asked if she was interested in being immunized.

News reports have endlessly covered antivaccine sentiment, but this personal encounter hit home. From simple face masks to groundbreaking vaccines, we failed as physicians to encourage widespread uptake of health-protective measures despite strong scientific backing.

Large swaths of the public deny these tools’ importance or question their safety. This is ultimately rooted in the inability of community leaders and health care professionals to communicate with the public.

Science communication is inherently difficult. Scientists use complex language, and it is hard to evaluate the lay public’s baseline knowledge. Moreover, we are trained to speak with qualifications, encourage doubt, and accept change and evolution of fact. These qualities contrast the definitive messaging necessary in public settings. COVID-19 highlighted these gaps, where regardless of novel scientific solutions, poor communication led to a resistance to accept the tested scientific solution, which ultimately was the rate-limiting factor for overcoming the virus.

As directors of Physician Executive Leadership, an organization that trains future physicians at Thomas Jefferson University to tackle emerging health care issues, we hosted Paul Offit, MD, a national media figure and vaccine advocate. Dr. Offit shared his personal growth during the pandemic, from being abruptly thrown into the spotlight to eventually honing his communication skills. Dr. Offit discussed the challenges of sharing medical knowledge with laypeople and adaptations that are necessary. We found this transformative, realizing the importance of science communication training early in medical education.

Emphasizing the humanities and building soft skills will improve outcomes and benefit broader society by producing physician-leaders in public health and policy. We hope to improve our own communication skills and work in medical education to incorporate similar training into education paradigms for future students.

As seen in our patient interaction, strong science alone will not drive patient adherence; instead, we must work at personal and system levels to induce change. Physicians have a unique opportunity to generate trust and guide evidence-based policy. We must communicate, whether one-on-one with patients, or to millions of viewers via media or policymaker settings. We hope to not only be doctors, but to be advocates, leaders, and trusted advisers for the public.

Mr. Kieran and Mr. Shah are second-year medical students at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia. Neither disclosed any relevant conflicts of interest. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

“I’m not getting the vaccine. Nobody knows the long-term effects, and I heard that people are getting clots.”

We were screening patients at a low-cost clinic in Philadelphia for concerns surrounding social determinants of health. During one patient visit, in addition to concerns including housing, medication affordability, and transportation, we found that she had not received the COVID-19 vaccine, and we asked if she was interested in being immunized.

News reports have endlessly covered antivaccine sentiment, but this personal encounter hit home. From simple face masks to groundbreaking vaccines, we failed as physicians to encourage widespread uptake of health-protective measures despite strong scientific backing.

Large swaths of the public deny these tools’ importance or question their safety. This is ultimately rooted in the inability of community leaders and health care professionals to communicate with the public.

Science communication is inherently difficult. Scientists use complex language, and it is hard to evaluate the lay public’s baseline knowledge. Moreover, we are trained to speak with qualifications, encourage doubt, and accept change and evolution of fact. These qualities contrast the definitive messaging necessary in public settings. COVID-19 highlighted these gaps, where regardless of novel scientific solutions, poor communication led to a resistance to accept the tested scientific solution, which ultimately was the rate-limiting factor for overcoming the virus.

As directors of Physician Executive Leadership, an organization that trains future physicians at Thomas Jefferson University to tackle emerging health care issues, we hosted Paul Offit, MD, a national media figure and vaccine advocate. Dr. Offit shared his personal growth during the pandemic, from being abruptly thrown into the spotlight to eventually honing his communication skills. Dr. Offit discussed the challenges of sharing medical knowledge with laypeople and adaptations that are necessary. We found this transformative, realizing the importance of science communication training early in medical education.

Emphasizing the humanities and building soft skills will improve outcomes and benefit broader society by producing physician-leaders in public health and policy. We hope to improve our own communication skills and work in medical education to incorporate similar training into education paradigms for future students.

As seen in our patient interaction, strong science alone will not drive patient adherence; instead, we must work at personal and system levels to induce change. Physicians have a unique opportunity to generate trust and guide evidence-based policy. We must communicate, whether one-on-one with patients, or to millions of viewers via media or policymaker settings. We hope to not only be doctors, but to be advocates, leaders, and trusted advisers for the public.

Mr. Kieran and Mr. Shah are second-year medical students at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia. Neither disclosed any relevant conflicts of interest. A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

On Oct. 4, staff, patients, and medical students at my institution received word that a fatal shooting had occurred inside the campus hospital. For staff, this was a painful event compounding the already stressful pandemic times, while for students, it was a harsh introduction to the emerging dangers of practicing medicine.

Sure, medicine is widely known to be a grueling profession that requires sacrifice, but few realize the dangers to their own safety that providers routinely face. Unfortunately, acts of violence targeting health care workers occur at surprisingly high rates.

Reports following the shooting indicated that the gunman had a personal conflict with a coworker, and thankfully, larger numbers of people had not been targeted. While this may seem like a one-off incident, any shooting inside a hospital is a serious matter. Hospitals should be places of healing. Yes, they are inevitably places of suffering as well, but this pain should never be human-inflicted.

Health care workers are widely admired in the community, and increasingly so due to their sacrifices during the COVID-19 pandemic. Even though there is more attention to our health care spaces, the epidemic of occupational violence against our country’s health care workers has gone largely unrecognized, and this danger has only worsened since the onset of the pandemic.

Acts of violence against health care workers not only include fatal shootings or stabbings but may also include physical or verbal aggressions by frustrated patients and visitors. It is likely that students entering the health care field will encounter such danger during their careers.

Health care workers have four times the likelihood of being assaulted on the job, compared with those working in private industry. The World Health Organization reports that 38% of health workers can expect to experience physical violence at some point in their careers, while verbal threatening was reportedly even more common. It is plausible that the true rate of violence surpasses these rates, as reporting them is entirely voluntary.

In fact, the American Journal of Managed Care reported in 2019 that 75% of workplace assaults occur in health care, yet only 30% of nurses and 26% of emergency department physicians report such experiences.

Anecdotally, many of my own physician mentors have shared stories of troubling or threatening situations they have faced throughout their careers. These types of situations can be difficult to avoid, as providers are trained and naturally inclined to empathize with their patients and help as much as possible, making it difficult to turn away potentially violent individuals.

Since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, as the public became more fatigued, incidents of violence rose. Facing staffing shortages, visitor restrictions, and high-acuity patients, health care workers found it increasingly difficult to manage large caseloads. High levels of stress were affecting not only patients, who were facing some of the toughest times of their lives, but also staff, who experienced rising demands.

Yash Shah is a first-year medical student at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

On Oct. 4, staff, patients, and medical students at my institution received word that a fatal shooting had occurred inside the campus hospital. For staff, this was a painful event compounding the already stressful pandemic times, while for students, it was a harsh introduction to the emerging dangers of practicing medicine.

Sure, medicine is widely known to be a grueling profession that requires sacrifice, but few realize the dangers to their own safety that providers routinely face. Unfortunately, acts of violence targeting health care workers occur at surprisingly high rates.

Reports following the shooting indicated that the gunman had a personal conflict with a coworker, and thankfully, larger numbers of people had not been targeted. While this may seem like a one-off incident, any shooting inside a hospital is a serious matter. Hospitals should be places of healing. Yes, they are inevitably places of suffering as well, but this pain should never be human-inflicted.

Health care workers are widely admired in the community, and increasingly so due to their sacrifices during the COVID-19 pandemic. Even though there is more attention to our health care spaces, the epidemic of occupational violence against our country’s health care workers has gone largely unrecognized, and this danger has only worsened since the onset of the pandemic.

Acts of violence against health care workers not only include fatal shootings or stabbings but may also include physical or verbal aggressions by frustrated patients and visitors. It is likely that students entering the health care field will encounter such danger during their careers.

Health care workers have four times the likelihood of being assaulted on the job, compared with those working in private industry. The World Health Organization reports that 38% of health workers can expect to experience physical violence at some point in their careers, while verbal threatening was reportedly even more common. It is plausible that the true rate of violence surpasses these rates, as reporting them is entirely voluntary.

In fact, the American Journal of Managed Care reported in 2019 that 75% of workplace assaults occur in health care, yet only 30% of nurses and 26% of emergency department physicians report such experiences.

Anecdotally, many of my own physician mentors have shared stories of troubling or threatening situations they have faced throughout their careers. These types of situations can be difficult to avoid, as providers are trained and naturally inclined to empathize with their patients and help as much as possible, making it difficult to turn away potentially violent individuals.

Since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, as the public became more fatigued, incidents of violence rose. Facing staffing shortages, visitor restrictions, and high-acuity patients, health care workers found it increasingly difficult to manage large caseloads. High levels of stress were affecting not only patients, who were facing some of the toughest times of their lives, but also staff, who experienced rising demands.

Yash Shah is a first-year medical student at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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

On Oct. 4, staff, patients, and medical students at my institution received word that a fatal shooting had occurred inside the campus hospital. For staff, this was a painful event compounding the already stressful pandemic times, while for students, it was a harsh introduction to the emerging dangers of practicing medicine.

Sure, medicine is widely known to be a grueling profession that requires sacrifice, but few realize the dangers to their own safety that providers routinely face. Unfortunately, acts of violence targeting health care workers occur at surprisingly high rates.

Reports following the shooting indicated that the gunman had a personal conflict with a coworker, and thankfully, larger numbers of people had not been targeted. While this may seem like a one-off incident, any shooting inside a hospital is a serious matter. Hospitals should be places of healing. Yes, they are inevitably places of suffering as well, but this pain should never be human-inflicted.

Health care workers are widely admired in the community, and increasingly so due to their sacrifices during the COVID-19 pandemic. Even though there is more attention to our health care spaces, the epidemic of occupational violence against our country’s health care workers has gone largely unrecognized, and this danger has only worsened since the onset of the pandemic.

Acts of violence against health care workers not only include fatal shootings or stabbings but may also include physical or verbal aggressions by frustrated patients and visitors. It is likely that students entering the health care field will encounter such danger during their careers.

Health care workers have four times the likelihood of being assaulted on the job, compared with those working in private industry. The World Health Organization reports that 38% of health workers can expect to experience physical violence at some point in their careers, while verbal threatening was reportedly even more common. It is plausible that the true rate of violence surpasses these rates, as reporting them is entirely voluntary.

In fact, the American Journal of Managed Care reported in 2019 that 75% of workplace assaults occur in health care, yet only 30% of nurses and 26% of emergency department physicians report such experiences.

Anecdotally, many of my own physician mentors have shared stories of troubling or threatening situations they have faced throughout their careers. These types of situations can be difficult to avoid, as providers are trained and naturally inclined to empathize with their patients and help as much as possible, making it difficult to turn away potentially violent individuals.

Since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, as the public became more fatigued, incidents of violence rose. Facing staffing shortages, visitor restrictions, and high-acuity patients, health care workers found it increasingly difficult to manage large caseloads. High levels of stress were affecting not only patients, who were facing some of the toughest times of their lives, but also staff, who experienced rising demands.

Yash Shah is a first-year medical student at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

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