Who should we take in medical school? What should be the criteria? Who will be a good doctor?

There are many serious inequities in our society, and they tend to build upon one another. People with more advantages have more opportunities to do well themselves, and those with fewer have less. Those advantages (or, conversely, disadvantages) include wealth, white race, male  gender, suburban or urban (but not poor areas) location, and education. All these feed one another. For example, coming from a well-to-do family and being white dramatically increase the odds of success in a chosen field. Even if there were no discrimination against people based on race and color (and this is a long way from being true), there is still the fact that people of color are grossly over-represented in low-income communities and families. This is a clear example of structural racism, so that effective discrimination based on class disproportionately falls on people of color.

An important manifestation of this exists in healthcare, and in particular the production of healthcare professionals (but also in other professional fields). In medicine specifically, we have a physician workforce that does not reflect the population of the US in terms of class (or family income), race, gender (although this is the area in which the greatest progress has been and continues to be made), geographic location (rural vs. urban), and specialty choice. Our doctors overwhelmingly are from upper-middle-class backgrounds, are white, are from suburban (or well-to-do urban) communities, and largely male. They practice in urban and suburban areas in even greater proportion than they come from them, in part because they also practice in specialties and subspecialties that cannot survive in smaller communities, rather than in family medicine and other primary care specialties that are in shortage. This exacerbates the other inequities by making healthcare something that is less accessible to many Americans based on geography (where are the doctors located?) and culture, as well as because of cost, the absence of a universal affordable healthcare system being an almost uniquely American phenomenon.

Not having a medical workforce that looks like America, or practicing in the areas and specialties where there is most need, goes beyond the admissions process to medical school. It is impacted by the curriculum (both formal and informal, or “hidden”) in medical school, by role models and mentors, and very much by the potential income from practice. The systemic characteristics of society greatly influence who is considered a “good” candidate for medical school, and even who applies. These are considerations addressed in a recent blog post on LinkedIn®, a professional networking site, by Dr. Heidi Chumley, dean of the Ross University School of Medicine (RUSM). Dr. Chumley focuses on the challenges faced by students from backgrounds underrepresented in medicine (URiM), and in particular on the emphasis on performance on the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT) for deciding who gets into medical school, since URiM students perform less well on that test. She notes that what seems like a small difference in scores makes a significant difference in admission: “There remains an unexplained gap in average MCAT scores between White (503.1), Black (494.9), and LatinX (497.1) test-takers. This gap matters as 29% of applicants with a score of 502-505 are accepted compared to 10% with a score of 494-49.”

Dr. Chumley also address two other critical points. First, that the lower MCAT scores are likely tied to many of the social and educational disadvantages faced by URiM students, thus reflecting, and compounding, the other factors that these students have to overcome. Second, that efforts implemented by many medical schools (and endorsed by the Association of American Medical Colleges, AAMC) to have a more “holistic” admissions process mostly changes the selection of which high-scoring students are admitted. Yes, it is great that students who have a social conscience and have done volunteer work in the US and abroad are selected over those who are selfish and not so involved, but this rubric, as she points out, ignores the fact that many lower-income (and URiM) students need to work at paying jobs to support themselves (and often their families), and devalues such employment in comparison to the voluntarism that is more accessible to those from privileged backgrounds.

Added to this is the financial component of the cost of medical school itself, which, in the US and in the US (and Canadian) serving Caribbean medical schools (of which Ross is one of the largest and most prominent), is staggering. Students typically graduate from medical schools with debt loads of $250,000 or more. In addition to being outrageous to start with, add the fact that compound and accrued interest makes the total to be repaid much higher, and this encourages students to choose higher-paid specialties even when that is not where the greatest need is (you may make, over a lifetime, $7M more practicing as, say, an anesthesiologist compared to a primary care doctor) or even where the student’s personal interest lies.

Dr. Chumley describes some of the efforts to increase access for URiM students at RUSM, and they are indeed impressive. They include “pipeline” relationships with HBCUs (Historically Black Colleges and Universities) and HSIs (Hispanic-Serving Institutions) and  re-thinking what criteria for admission are essential, valuing the life experience (including work experience) of applicants and putting less emphasis on the absolute score students get on the MCATs. As she points out, the MCAT predicts performance on similar multiple-choice tests of knowledge including most “pre-clinical” tests in medical school, and the licensing exam, the USMLE (particularly Part I, which covers basic science). It definitely does not predict performance as a good or excellent clinician. Also, while there are significant differences in the first-time pass rates on USMLE in those who score “over-500” (> 95%) and “just under 500” (> 80%) groups on the MCAT, the medical school curriculum should be addressing those differences.

The two points I would like to emphasize are the criteria for who is likely to become a good doctor (and thus should preferentially be admitted to medical school) and the enormous cost burden on medical students that obviously falls hardest on those with the least wealth. As I have said before (The high cost of medical education: Who should be trained to become doctors?, Dec 10, 2019; Free tuition in medical school is only one step toward producing the doctors America needs, Aug 26, 2018), those who should be given the opportunity to become doctors (ie., be admitted to medical school) should be those most likely to make a positive difference in the health of our population. This includes a sense of community over self, a willingness to serve where needed, and interest in (preferably commitment to) practicing the specialties most in need in the areas most in need of them. Since URiM doctors are more likely to practice with patients from similar backgrounds (and those patients are often more comfortable seeing them), and a comparable correlation exists with those from rural backgrounds, these characteristics should be very important criteria. As should coming from a family with lower than average wealth and income, which requires addressing the second point. Higher income does correlate with better education and higher MCAT scores, and maybe higher scores on basic science tests in medical school (which are very like undergraduate science tests) and USMLE Part I scores, but not (and almost inversely) with practicing the specialties most needed and caring for the people most in need. So this should at best be a neutral, not positive, criterion.

And the money is a big one. You can admit a student from a low-income family who will be a great doctor, but they should not have to go into absolutely crushing debt and certainly not to enter the highest-income specialties to pay it off. This can partially be addressed by medical schools offering scholarships and states and localities offering loan-repayment programs, but it would be most effective if the federal government could subsidize the cost to make it far lower, and in conjunction with requirements that schools (state or private, stateside or Caribbean) to produce the physicians America needs.

Of course, as well, and even more important for all our people, to have a free or very low cost universal health system.

 

Disclosure: Dr. Chumley and I have known each other for many years and previously worked together.

Who will care for the underserved? The role of off-shore medical schools

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I have written in several previous posts (most recently Universal Coverage and Primary Care: The US needs both, May 27, 2010) about the challenges facing American medicine, particularly regarding specialty choice (=not primary care, not rural, not underserved) of US allopathic graduates, and the problems this has already created in providing health care to the American people, which is only likely to worsen as this trend continues. I have noted that, in the production of physicians as in any other process, the outcome results from variables in inputs (who is admitted in this case), the process itself (in education, the curriculum, both formal and informal), and output variables (in the case of physicians, what the practice environment is: reimbursement, work load, quality of life, respect and regard within the profession and community). I have argued that, while output variables may be the most important in terms of specialty choice and practice location, it is the one over which medical educators have the least control. While the curriculum, the process through which we educate medical students, is critical (see Are we training physicians to be empathic? Apparently not., Sept 12, 2009), it is likely that the characteristics of the students selected is most important in determining practice location, particularly for rural areas, but also for urban underserved settings (Medical Student Selection, Dec 14, 2008). Selecting students who grew up in the suburbs of major cities (what Robert Bowman, MD, who has done much research in this area, calls “major medical centers”) in homes with high socioeconomic status and excellent high school and college educations (which is what is mainly done) will result in students with excellent test performance and is likely to produce skilled physicians, but not ones likely to practice in rural or underserved areas.

Students from rural areas, from underserved communities, from low socioeconomic status backgrounds, and from underrepresented minority groups are much more likely to serve these populations, as are students who are older at the time of matriculation. But their lower grades and MCATs, may make them less likely to be accepted, and to have difficulty with the pre-clinical medical curriculum. Students, even from privileged backgrounds, whose prior life history includes significant service are also more likely to work in urban underserved settings; less so (although more than their colleagues without these characteristics) in rural areas. But what about schools of other types or medical schools not in the US?

In a conversation with US Senator Sam Brownback on a visit to his office last year, members of the Kansas Academy of Family Physicians (KAFP) noted the challenges in getting KUMC graduates to work in rural areas. In an off-the-cuff response (I don’t mean to suggest that this was thought-out or his real position; I use the statement as a basis for comment) he suggested that we then just start a medical school at Kansas State University that would train rural primary care doctors. This type of response to a system that is not having the impact that policy makers wish for is common – create a new school, or focus on another different type of school (e.g., osteopathic), or another profession (nurse practitioners, physician’s assistants). But, of course, if they take the same sorts of students and offer them the same range of career opportunities, why would one expect different outcomes? Osteopathic graduates, while still entering family medicine and primary care at higher rates than allopathic, are increasingly becoming specialists. NPs, and especially PAs, are increasingly joining specialty physician practices and remaining in urban areas with high income potential rather than high need. Why would they not? Would you, or your children?

Because there are far more residency training positions than there are US graduates, many of these positions are filled with international medical graduates. A special group of these are “US IMGs”, Americans who, unable to be admitted to US medical schools, attend those outside the country. In the Caribbean, there are many schools, for-profit, set up for precisely this purpose. I recently had the opportunity to give the “White Coat Ceremony” talk to the class entering the largest of these: Ross University School of Medicine (http://www.rossu.edu) on the island of Dominica. Ross, in existence for over 30 years and now owned by DeVry, the largest for-profit educational company in the US, has a “business model” that enrolls 3 classes per year paying tuition much the same as a private US private school or an out-of-state student at a US public medical school. After the first two years, students do clinical clerkships in 70 hospitals in the US that are affiliated with the school – and paid by them. The student body is ethnically very diverse, with over half the members of the class I spoke to born outside the US (although 95% are US citizens or permanent residents; the rest mostly Canadian), but not including a large percentage of students from traditional underrepresented minority groups, and certainly not many from poor families. Ross graduate disproportionately enter primary care specialties, but this is almost certainly because primary care is less competitive than many subspecialties, and the fact that they didn’t train at US schools puts them at a competitive disadvantage in the selection process. Nonetheless, there are several positive things to be said about the Ross experience. First, Ross has a single mission – medical education. The considerable funds it generates are not required to support a large research or clinical enterprise, but can be directed to that mission. Second, it takes students who, because of their grades, wouldn’t – didn’t – get into US medical schools, and gives them a chance to succeed. If there is a high failure rate as a result, there are also unquestionably outstanding doctors produced who would not have otherwise existed. They are able, because of their business model, to take a “chance” on these students – and if they work hard, they can be successful.

While there a very many Caribbean medical schools, of different ages, quality, and size, operated more-or-less on the Ross model, a quite different model exists on another island – Cuba. Whatever its failures, one of the great successes in Cuba since the revolution of 1959 has been the expansion of medical care to the entire citizenry of the nation, and exportation of trained physicians, both Cuban nationals (they are even on Ross’ home island of Dominica) and those from other countries educated in Cuba. The Latin American Medical School (Escuela Latino-Americana de Medicina – ELAM), which educates students from other Latin American countries, began to take students from the US a number of years ago. Unlike those attending Ross and other costly schools, US students at ELAM are virtually all from low socioeconomic backgrounds and mainly from underrepresented minority groups. Tuition is free and living expenses are paid, but there are prices for the students to pay. Admission requires a bachelor’s degree, but students are still required to spend the entire 6 years of medical school that is the usual for countries outside the US and Canada, or 7 if they need to learn Spanish first. They live in minimal dormitories, have very limited access to the internet (1-2 hours per week), and work very hard. They receive a medical education that particularly emphasizes public health, community medicine, and prevention. They promise to complete their training and enter practice in service to the communities from which they come, but it is a promise – obviously the Cubans have no way to enforce this. They receive no training in the US prior to graduation unless they are able to arrange summer observerships on their own, and are not particularly prepared for the “National Board” exams, the USMLE, that are required for US licensure and admission to US residencies. MEDICC (Medical Education in Cooperation with Cuba) , a US group that exists to support US students at ELAM and its graduates, tries to find them mentors who will help orient them to the health system in their own country, the US, teach them about applying to US residencies, and offer guidance in the study for USMLE. The first US graduates of ELAM have entered a few US residencies this year; I have met one, who is phenomenal. Other US medical educators are working with ELAM graduates and offering both advice and opportunities for volunteer training.

The US students at ELAM are the “right students”. They come from underserved backgrounds, are committed to their communities, and are willing to work very hard (perhaps ten years between bachelor’s degree and entering a residency). The question, of course, is not “how can they go to that Communist country?” but rather why are we allowing Cuba to pick up the role that our own medical education system fails to fulfill. Indeed, it would be particularly for those who oppose Cuba and socialism to develop such programs in our own country.

Senator Brownback, if we are going to start a new school in Kansas, let’s model much of it on ELAM. Let’s make it free, and recruit students from underserved communities and underrepresented minority groups, and low socioeconomic backgrounds, and teach them public health and prevention and primary care, and send them out to serve their communities of origin. In the meantime, let us at least have a “sliding scale” loan repayment program where the percent of your loan your repay is tied to your post-residency income, as well as your practice location and specialty choice.
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