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Pain management is a huge part of how we in palliative care help patients – and most of the time, I think we do it well, but in the regulatory environment of the opioid epidemic,
A patient – let’s call her Joan – calls me in distress. She is a 62-year-old woman with widespread metastatic breast cancer. Her pain is mainly due to bone metastases, but she also has discomfort due to the cancer’s invasion of the thin membranes that line her lungs and abdomen.
She was started on a combination opioid and acetaminophen tablet about 2 months ago by her oncologist, but is now requiring it around the clock, nearing the ceiling dose for this particular medication.
Given that her pain is escalating, Joan and I discuss starting a long-acting opioid to better manage the peak and trough effect of short-acting opioids, which can make a patient feel that the pain is relieved only for a few hours at a time, with sharp spikes throughout the day that mandate the next dose of short-acting opioid. This tethers the patient to the clock, having to take as many as six or eight doses of medication per day, and can be very disruptive to daily life.
I send an e-prescription for the same opioid Joan’s currently taking, but in a long-acting format that will slow-release over 8-10 hours, relieving her of the need to take a medication every 3-4 hours. I have learned over the years that nearly every long-acting opioid automatically generates a prior authorization request from the patient’s insurance company and so I immediately email our prior authorization team to submit to Joan’s insurance right away to avoid this extra delay.
Our prior authorization team is exceptionally responsive and submits these requests with urgency every time – they understand that cancer pain is a serious problem and we can’t wait 5 business days for answers. They are typically able to obtain an approved prior authorization for nearly every long-acting opioid I write within 24-48 hours.
But here’s where things go sideways.
First, the insurance company denies the prior authorization request, demanding that I revise the prescription from the long-acting version of the opioid she is currently taking to a cheaper, older opioid that she’s never tried before. In other words, they won’t cover the drug I requested without Joan first trying a completely different drug and failing it. This only makes sense for the insurance company’s bottom line – it makes no clinical sense at all. Why would I try a novel compound that Joan’s never had and one to which I have no idea how she’ll respond when I could keep her on the same compound knowing that she tolerates it just fine?
Past experience tells me insurance companies rarely budge on this, and appealing the decision would just introduce even more delay of care, so I begrudgingly change the prescription and send it again to the pharmacy. I message Joan to let her know that her insurance won’t cover my drug of choice and that we have to try this older one first.
A few hours later, Joan sends me a message: “My pharmacy says it’s going to take A WEEK to get the long-acting medicine!”
In the meantime, Joan has been using her short-acting opioid faster than anticipated because of her escalating pain – so she’s now running low on that as well.
I write for more of her short-acting opioid and e-script it to her pharmacy.
Within a few hours, we get another automatic response from her insurance that we’re going to need a prior authorization for additional short-acting opioid because she’s exceeded “quantity limitations,” which as far as I can tell is a completely arbitrary number not based on clinical evidence.
The prior auth team jumps on it and submits to override the quantity limit – successfully – and sends the override code to her pharmacy to reprocess the prescription.
But now the pharmacist tells Joan that they won’t fill the Rx anyway because it’s “too early.” They tell her that “state laws” prevent them from filling the scrip.
Is this true? I have no idea. I’m not an expert on California pharmacy law. All I know is that my patient is in pain and something needs to happen quickly.
I write for a second short-acting opioid – again a completely different compound. Ironically, this Rx goes through instantly without need for prior authorization. But now Joan has to switch to another new drug for no good medical reason.
If you’re still with me this far into the weeds, I’m grateful. In all it took a combined 4 hours of work (between myself and the prior auth team) to get two opioid Rx’s filled – and these were completely different medications than the ones I originally wrote for. I also had to move her prescriptions to the hospital’s pharmacy (another inconvenience for Joan and her family) so that she could get the medications in a timely manner. All this work to ensure that a single patient had adequate and timely pain relief and to prevent her from having to make an unnecessary visit to the emergency department for pain crisis.
This is just a regular day in outpatient palliative care in the era of the opioid epidemic.
The epidemic has caused tremendous pain and suffering for millions of people over the past 2 decades – namely those lost to opioid overdoses and their loved ones. And for the most part, tightening access to opioids for routine aches and pains among a relatively healthy population is not wrong, in my opinion, as long as those restrictions are based in good faith on robust evidence.
But the hidden cost of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s 2016 opioid prescribing guidelines for nonmalignant pain, as well as the flurry of restrictive state laws they generated, is felt every day by patients with serious illness even though the guidelines were never meant to affect them. Patients with active cancer, receiving palliative care services, or at the end of life, were supposed to be exempted from these guidelines since good evidence supports the use of opioids in these populations.
Instead of preserving access to desperately needed pain medicine for those suffering with serious illness, states and insurers have aggressively sought to gatekeep opioids from everyone, resulting in stigma, delays, and needless suffering.
Several recent studies have revealed the effects of this gatekeeping on patients with cancer.
A qualitative study with 26 advanced cancer patients described the demoralization and stigma many patients felt when taking opioids, which they directly tied to media messaging around the opioid epidemic. Even when they reluctantly agreed to take opioids to treat cancer-related pain, there were systemic impediments to achieving adequate pain relief – similar to my experience with Joan – that were directly caused by insurance and pharmacy constraints.
Those of us who care for oncology patients also appear to be undertreating cancer-related pain. Another recent study that found the amount of opioid medications prescribed to an advanced cancer patient near the end of life dropped by 38% between 2007 and 2017. The authors suggest that a direct consequence of this decline in appropriate opioid prescribing is an observed 50% rise in emergency department visits over the same time period by cancer patients for pain-related reasons.
This makes sense – if patients aren’t routinely prescribed the opioids they need to manage their cancer-related pain; or, if the stigma against using opioids is so harsh that it causes patients to shun opioids; or, if there are so many system barriers in place to prevent patients from obtaining opioids in a timely manner – then patients’ pain will crescendo, leaving them with little alternative but to head to the emergency department.
This undertreatment is corroborated by another study that examined data from the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services Part D prescriber database between 2013 and 2017, finding that both oncologists and nononcologists prescribed about 21% fewer opioids to Medicare beneficiaries during that time, compared with the period prior to 2013.
Interestingly, the researchers also found that opioid prescribing by palliative care providers increased by 15% over the same period. On a positive note, this suggests the presence of a growing outpatient palliative care workforce. But it may also reflect growing unease among oncologists with the perceived liability for prescribing opioids and a desire to ask other specialists to take on this liability. At the same time, it may reflect the very real and ever-increasing administrative burden associated with prescribing opioids and the fact that busy oncologists may not have time to spend on this aspect of cancer care. Thus, as palliative care clinicians become more visible and numerous in the outpatient arena, oncologists may increasingly ask palliative care clinicians like myself to take this on.
The problem with this is that merely handing off the administrative burden to another clinician doesn’t address the underlying problem. Anecdotal evidence suggests (and my own experiences corroborate) this administrative burden can cause real harm. A survey of 1,000 physicians conducted by the American Medical Association in 2021 found that 93% of respondents reported a delay in patient care due to prior authorization burden and 34% of respondents reported that their patients had suffered a “serious adverse event” due to prior authorization requirements.
The CDC recently announced it will take steps to revise the 2016 opioid prescribing guidelines for chronic pain after hearing from members of the medical community as well as patients living with chronic pain about the harsh, unintended consequences of the guidelines. I can only hope that insurance companies will follow suit, revising their opioid prior authorization requirements to finally come into alignment with the rational, safe use of opioids in patients with advanced cancer. It’s too bad that any improvement in the future will be too late for the millions of patients who have suffered irreversible iatrogenic harms due to delays in achieving adequate pain relief.
Sarah F. D’Ambruoso, NP, is a palliative care nurse practitioner in Santa Monica, Calif.
Pain management is a huge part of how we in palliative care help patients – and most of the time, I think we do it well, but in the regulatory environment of the opioid epidemic,
A patient – let’s call her Joan – calls me in distress. She is a 62-year-old woman with widespread metastatic breast cancer. Her pain is mainly due to bone metastases, but she also has discomfort due to the cancer’s invasion of the thin membranes that line her lungs and abdomen.
She was started on a combination opioid and acetaminophen tablet about 2 months ago by her oncologist, but is now requiring it around the clock, nearing the ceiling dose for this particular medication.
Given that her pain is escalating, Joan and I discuss starting a long-acting opioid to better manage the peak and trough effect of short-acting opioids, which can make a patient feel that the pain is relieved only for a few hours at a time, with sharp spikes throughout the day that mandate the next dose of short-acting opioid. This tethers the patient to the clock, having to take as many as six or eight doses of medication per day, and can be very disruptive to daily life.
I send an e-prescription for the same opioid Joan’s currently taking, but in a long-acting format that will slow-release over 8-10 hours, relieving her of the need to take a medication every 3-4 hours. I have learned over the years that nearly every long-acting opioid automatically generates a prior authorization request from the patient’s insurance company and so I immediately email our prior authorization team to submit to Joan’s insurance right away to avoid this extra delay.
Our prior authorization team is exceptionally responsive and submits these requests with urgency every time – they understand that cancer pain is a serious problem and we can’t wait 5 business days for answers. They are typically able to obtain an approved prior authorization for nearly every long-acting opioid I write within 24-48 hours.
But here’s where things go sideways.
First, the insurance company denies the prior authorization request, demanding that I revise the prescription from the long-acting version of the opioid she is currently taking to a cheaper, older opioid that she’s never tried before. In other words, they won’t cover the drug I requested without Joan first trying a completely different drug and failing it. This only makes sense for the insurance company’s bottom line – it makes no clinical sense at all. Why would I try a novel compound that Joan’s never had and one to which I have no idea how she’ll respond when I could keep her on the same compound knowing that she tolerates it just fine?
Past experience tells me insurance companies rarely budge on this, and appealing the decision would just introduce even more delay of care, so I begrudgingly change the prescription and send it again to the pharmacy. I message Joan to let her know that her insurance won’t cover my drug of choice and that we have to try this older one first.
A few hours later, Joan sends me a message: “My pharmacy says it’s going to take A WEEK to get the long-acting medicine!”
In the meantime, Joan has been using her short-acting opioid faster than anticipated because of her escalating pain – so she’s now running low on that as well.
I write for more of her short-acting opioid and e-script it to her pharmacy.
Within a few hours, we get another automatic response from her insurance that we’re going to need a prior authorization for additional short-acting opioid because she’s exceeded “quantity limitations,” which as far as I can tell is a completely arbitrary number not based on clinical evidence.
The prior auth team jumps on it and submits to override the quantity limit – successfully – and sends the override code to her pharmacy to reprocess the prescription.
But now the pharmacist tells Joan that they won’t fill the Rx anyway because it’s “too early.” They tell her that “state laws” prevent them from filling the scrip.
Is this true? I have no idea. I’m not an expert on California pharmacy law. All I know is that my patient is in pain and something needs to happen quickly.
I write for a second short-acting opioid – again a completely different compound. Ironically, this Rx goes through instantly without need for prior authorization. But now Joan has to switch to another new drug for no good medical reason.
If you’re still with me this far into the weeds, I’m grateful. In all it took a combined 4 hours of work (between myself and the prior auth team) to get two opioid Rx’s filled – and these were completely different medications than the ones I originally wrote for. I also had to move her prescriptions to the hospital’s pharmacy (another inconvenience for Joan and her family) so that she could get the medications in a timely manner. All this work to ensure that a single patient had adequate and timely pain relief and to prevent her from having to make an unnecessary visit to the emergency department for pain crisis.
This is just a regular day in outpatient palliative care in the era of the opioid epidemic.
The epidemic has caused tremendous pain and suffering for millions of people over the past 2 decades – namely those lost to opioid overdoses and their loved ones. And for the most part, tightening access to opioids for routine aches and pains among a relatively healthy population is not wrong, in my opinion, as long as those restrictions are based in good faith on robust evidence.
But the hidden cost of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s 2016 opioid prescribing guidelines for nonmalignant pain, as well as the flurry of restrictive state laws they generated, is felt every day by patients with serious illness even though the guidelines were never meant to affect them. Patients with active cancer, receiving palliative care services, or at the end of life, were supposed to be exempted from these guidelines since good evidence supports the use of opioids in these populations.
Instead of preserving access to desperately needed pain medicine for those suffering with serious illness, states and insurers have aggressively sought to gatekeep opioids from everyone, resulting in stigma, delays, and needless suffering.
Several recent studies have revealed the effects of this gatekeeping on patients with cancer.
A qualitative study with 26 advanced cancer patients described the demoralization and stigma many patients felt when taking opioids, which they directly tied to media messaging around the opioid epidemic. Even when they reluctantly agreed to take opioids to treat cancer-related pain, there were systemic impediments to achieving adequate pain relief – similar to my experience with Joan – that were directly caused by insurance and pharmacy constraints.
Those of us who care for oncology patients also appear to be undertreating cancer-related pain. Another recent study that found the amount of opioid medications prescribed to an advanced cancer patient near the end of life dropped by 38% between 2007 and 2017. The authors suggest that a direct consequence of this decline in appropriate opioid prescribing is an observed 50% rise in emergency department visits over the same time period by cancer patients for pain-related reasons.
This makes sense – if patients aren’t routinely prescribed the opioids they need to manage their cancer-related pain; or, if the stigma against using opioids is so harsh that it causes patients to shun opioids; or, if there are so many system barriers in place to prevent patients from obtaining opioids in a timely manner – then patients’ pain will crescendo, leaving them with little alternative but to head to the emergency department.
This undertreatment is corroborated by another study that examined data from the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services Part D prescriber database between 2013 and 2017, finding that both oncologists and nononcologists prescribed about 21% fewer opioids to Medicare beneficiaries during that time, compared with the period prior to 2013.
Interestingly, the researchers also found that opioid prescribing by palliative care providers increased by 15% over the same period. On a positive note, this suggests the presence of a growing outpatient palliative care workforce. But it may also reflect growing unease among oncologists with the perceived liability for prescribing opioids and a desire to ask other specialists to take on this liability. At the same time, it may reflect the very real and ever-increasing administrative burden associated with prescribing opioids and the fact that busy oncologists may not have time to spend on this aspect of cancer care. Thus, as palliative care clinicians become more visible and numerous in the outpatient arena, oncologists may increasingly ask palliative care clinicians like myself to take this on.
The problem with this is that merely handing off the administrative burden to another clinician doesn’t address the underlying problem. Anecdotal evidence suggests (and my own experiences corroborate) this administrative burden can cause real harm. A survey of 1,000 physicians conducted by the American Medical Association in 2021 found that 93% of respondents reported a delay in patient care due to prior authorization burden and 34% of respondents reported that their patients had suffered a “serious adverse event” due to prior authorization requirements.
The CDC recently announced it will take steps to revise the 2016 opioid prescribing guidelines for chronic pain after hearing from members of the medical community as well as patients living with chronic pain about the harsh, unintended consequences of the guidelines. I can only hope that insurance companies will follow suit, revising their opioid prior authorization requirements to finally come into alignment with the rational, safe use of opioids in patients with advanced cancer. It’s too bad that any improvement in the future will be too late for the millions of patients who have suffered irreversible iatrogenic harms due to delays in achieving adequate pain relief.
Sarah F. D’Ambruoso, NP, is a palliative care nurse practitioner in Santa Monica, Calif.
Pain management is a huge part of how we in palliative care help patients – and most of the time, I think we do it well, but in the regulatory environment of the opioid epidemic,
A patient – let’s call her Joan – calls me in distress. She is a 62-year-old woman with widespread metastatic breast cancer. Her pain is mainly due to bone metastases, but she also has discomfort due to the cancer’s invasion of the thin membranes that line her lungs and abdomen.
She was started on a combination opioid and acetaminophen tablet about 2 months ago by her oncologist, but is now requiring it around the clock, nearing the ceiling dose for this particular medication.
Given that her pain is escalating, Joan and I discuss starting a long-acting opioid to better manage the peak and trough effect of short-acting opioids, which can make a patient feel that the pain is relieved only for a few hours at a time, with sharp spikes throughout the day that mandate the next dose of short-acting opioid. This tethers the patient to the clock, having to take as many as six or eight doses of medication per day, and can be very disruptive to daily life.
I send an e-prescription for the same opioid Joan’s currently taking, but in a long-acting format that will slow-release over 8-10 hours, relieving her of the need to take a medication every 3-4 hours. I have learned over the years that nearly every long-acting opioid automatically generates a prior authorization request from the patient’s insurance company and so I immediately email our prior authorization team to submit to Joan’s insurance right away to avoid this extra delay.
Our prior authorization team is exceptionally responsive and submits these requests with urgency every time – they understand that cancer pain is a serious problem and we can’t wait 5 business days for answers. They are typically able to obtain an approved prior authorization for nearly every long-acting opioid I write within 24-48 hours.
But here’s where things go sideways.
First, the insurance company denies the prior authorization request, demanding that I revise the prescription from the long-acting version of the opioid she is currently taking to a cheaper, older opioid that she’s never tried before. In other words, they won’t cover the drug I requested without Joan first trying a completely different drug and failing it. This only makes sense for the insurance company’s bottom line – it makes no clinical sense at all. Why would I try a novel compound that Joan’s never had and one to which I have no idea how she’ll respond when I could keep her on the same compound knowing that she tolerates it just fine?
Past experience tells me insurance companies rarely budge on this, and appealing the decision would just introduce even more delay of care, so I begrudgingly change the prescription and send it again to the pharmacy. I message Joan to let her know that her insurance won’t cover my drug of choice and that we have to try this older one first.
A few hours later, Joan sends me a message: “My pharmacy says it’s going to take A WEEK to get the long-acting medicine!”
In the meantime, Joan has been using her short-acting opioid faster than anticipated because of her escalating pain – so she’s now running low on that as well.
I write for more of her short-acting opioid and e-script it to her pharmacy.
Within a few hours, we get another automatic response from her insurance that we’re going to need a prior authorization for additional short-acting opioid because she’s exceeded “quantity limitations,” which as far as I can tell is a completely arbitrary number not based on clinical evidence.
The prior auth team jumps on it and submits to override the quantity limit – successfully – and sends the override code to her pharmacy to reprocess the prescription.
But now the pharmacist tells Joan that they won’t fill the Rx anyway because it’s “too early.” They tell her that “state laws” prevent them from filling the scrip.
Is this true? I have no idea. I’m not an expert on California pharmacy law. All I know is that my patient is in pain and something needs to happen quickly.
I write for a second short-acting opioid – again a completely different compound. Ironically, this Rx goes through instantly without need for prior authorization. But now Joan has to switch to another new drug for no good medical reason.
If you’re still with me this far into the weeds, I’m grateful. In all it took a combined 4 hours of work (between myself and the prior auth team) to get two opioid Rx’s filled – and these were completely different medications than the ones I originally wrote for. I also had to move her prescriptions to the hospital’s pharmacy (another inconvenience for Joan and her family) so that she could get the medications in a timely manner. All this work to ensure that a single patient had adequate and timely pain relief and to prevent her from having to make an unnecessary visit to the emergency department for pain crisis.
This is just a regular day in outpatient palliative care in the era of the opioid epidemic.
The epidemic has caused tremendous pain and suffering for millions of people over the past 2 decades – namely those lost to opioid overdoses and their loved ones. And for the most part, tightening access to opioids for routine aches and pains among a relatively healthy population is not wrong, in my opinion, as long as those restrictions are based in good faith on robust evidence.
But the hidden cost of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s 2016 opioid prescribing guidelines for nonmalignant pain, as well as the flurry of restrictive state laws they generated, is felt every day by patients with serious illness even though the guidelines were never meant to affect them. Patients with active cancer, receiving palliative care services, or at the end of life, were supposed to be exempted from these guidelines since good evidence supports the use of opioids in these populations.
Instead of preserving access to desperately needed pain medicine for those suffering with serious illness, states and insurers have aggressively sought to gatekeep opioids from everyone, resulting in stigma, delays, and needless suffering.
Several recent studies have revealed the effects of this gatekeeping on patients with cancer.
A qualitative study with 26 advanced cancer patients described the demoralization and stigma many patients felt when taking opioids, which they directly tied to media messaging around the opioid epidemic. Even when they reluctantly agreed to take opioids to treat cancer-related pain, there were systemic impediments to achieving adequate pain relief – similar to my experience with Joan – that were directly caused by insurance and pharmacy constraints.
Those of us who care for oncology patients also appear to be undertreating cancer-related pain. Another recent study that found the amount of opioid medications prescribed to an advanced cancer patient near the end of life dropped by 38% between 2007 and 2017. The authors suggest that a direct consequence of this decline in appropriate opioid prescribing is an observed 50% rise in emergency department visits over the same time period by cancer patients for pain-related reasons.
This makes sense – if patients aren’t routinely prescribed the opioids they need to manage their cancer-related pain; or, if the stigma against using opioids is so harsh that it causes patients to shun opioids; or, if there are so many system barriers in place to prevent patients from obtaining opioids in a timely manner – then patients’ pain will crescendo, leaving them with little alternative but to head to the emergency department.
This undertreatment is corroborated by another study that examined data from the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services Part D prescriber database between 2013 and 2017, finding that both oncologists and nononcologists prescribed about 21% fewer opioids to Medicare beneficiaries during that time, compared with the period prior to 2013.
Interestingly, the researchers also found that opioid prescribing by palliative care providers increased by 15% over the same period. On a positive note, this suggests the presence of a growing outpatient palliative care workforce. But it may also reflect growing unease among oncologists with the perceived liability for prescribing opioids and a desire to ask other specialists to take on this liability. At the same time, it may reflect the very real and ever-increasing administrative burden associated with prescribing opioids and the fact that busy oncologists may not have time to spend on this aspect of cancer care. Thus, as palliative care clinicians become more visible and numerous in the outpatient arena, oncologists may increasingly ask palliative care clinicians like myself to take this on.
The problem with this is that merely handing off the administrative burden to another clinician doesn’t address the underlying problem. Anecdotal evidence suggests (and my own experiences corroborate) this administrative burden can cause real harm. A survey of 1,000 physicians conducted by the American Medical Association in 2021 found that 93% of respondents reported a delay in patient care due to prior authorization burden and 34% of respondents reported that their patients had suffered a “serious adverse event” due to prior authorization requirements.
The CDC recently announced it will take steps to revise the 2016 opioid prescribing guidelines for chronic pain after hearing from members of the medical community as well as patients living with chronic pain about the harsh, unintended consequences of the guidelines. I can only hope that insurance companies will follow suit, revising their opioid prior authorization requirements to finally come into alignment with the rational, safe use of opioids in patients with advanced cancer. It’s too bad that any improvement in the future will be too late for the millions of patients who have suffered irreversible iatrogenic harms due to delays in achieving adequate pain relief.
Sarah F. D’Ambruoso, NP, is a palliative care nurse practitioner in Santa Monica, Calif.