Markian Hawryluk, a reporter for The (Bend, OR) Bulletin—circulation 32,455— has written one of the best pieces I’ve seen in a long time about the ties between the nation’s doctors and the pharmaceutical makers that push the medicines we take. The myriad ways drug companies influence doctors has been well known in health policy circles for years. ProPublica has contributed to a growing body of knowledge about how drug companies operate with its disclosures of physician fees, conflicts of interests, and names of docs who even prescribe harmful drugs. Hawryluk’s piece, however, reaches ordinary folks in ways that I haven’t seen before, and shows what a small, rural newspaper—the kind that still makes money and enjoys high readership—can do for its community. Hawryluk’s story, a model for both journalists and physicians, deserves a CJR laurel.
The piece is approachable from the lede to the kicker—no wonk stuff or zillions of documents to click through. It is smooth and interesting, thanks to fine reporting and narrative writing, along with good editing. Readers get good, simple explanations of how drug selling works, its insidious effect on physicians whom the literature shows tend to prescribe what the last rep pitches, and how this practice hooks consumers on medicines that are most profitable for the bottom line but may not be the best for them.
I particularly liked how Hawryluk described a not-so-well-known business of the American Medical Association (AMA) that aids drug companies in their sales efforts. Not well known by the public, that is. Drug companies buy prescribing information from health information companies that have purchased de-identified records from pharmacies about the drugs we all take. Drug companies then match each of our records with the doctors’ prescriber numbers sold to them by the AMA. Thus, what each doc prescribes makes its way into the sales pitches delivered in doctors’ offices. If docs are not prescribing what pharmaceutical reps want them to sell, the reps try to change their prescribing patterns. The little gifts they leave—the note pads with Cialis or Lipitor on them or the pens sporting drug company logos—remind harried docs come prescription-writing time. Hawryluk characterized the process this way: “Doctors are categorized by drug reps into percentile groups based on their prescribing volume and given colorful monikers such as high-prescriber, spreader, mercenary or sample-grabber.” These labels allow the sales people to fashion just the right pitch for individual doctors.
The paper’s story began with an engaging lede about how docs at the rural Madras Medical Group (about an hour north of Bend) had become wary of drug reps and had considered banning them. Still, they doubted that was the right move. Then came a sumptuous meal, complete with butter shaped into fancy curlicues, hosted by a drug rep who was doing a little “educating” about his company’s latest brand name drug. The dinner “was really something,” one doctor recalled. “That sort of pushed us over the edge.” The meal, combined with the fact that drug reps were by then visiting the small clinic at a pace of “several per day,” as Dr. David Evans told the paper, made the medical group, as Evans said, “start to think a little more. What is this about? It just doesn’t feel right.”