Once the federal budget was signed, poison control centers around the country breathed a sigh of relief.
A proposed cut by Congress would have slashed 93 percent of federal money from the 57 poison control centers that operate around the nation, but the final budget dealt only about a 25 percent cut.
However, this momentary reprieve belies a much more significant threat to local poison control centers like the Arizona Poison and Drug Information Center, partnered with the College of Pharmacy at the University of Arizona.
“It’s hard to call it a victory to say we only got cut a little bit,” said Keith Boesen, the managing director of the center.
“It’s better than the alternative, but we face a death by a thousand cuts, eventually we’ll bleed out.”
Over the last two years, the center has lost 50 percent of its funding from Arizona, and this federal cut will make it even harder to keep the center going.
The center answers about 70,000 calls a year, a quarter of which involve young children.
“We don’t have much overhead,” Boesen said. “So our costs are really about manpower and their knowledge and if we lose our people, the program suffers or breaks.”
The center operates 24 hours a day, every day. That kind of access remains important, especially since the center is also the main source of toxicology information for health care professionals. In an emergency like a snakebite or chemical poisoning, the center remains the primary source of information for EMTs, pharmacists, and doctors and nurses in hospitals.
“We know we’re talking with well-trained physicians and they know what they’re doing,” said Mark Murphy, 53, a poison control specialist at the center. “We try to be as helpful as we can, as quickly and efficiently as we can.”
According to the American Association of Poison Control Centers (AAPCC), national centers answered 4.2 million calls in 2009, 16 percent of which were from hospitals.
The Arizona Poison and Drug Information Center serves the entire state, except for Maricopa County, which is served by the Banner Poison Control Center based at Good Samaritan Hospital in Phoenix.
Answering phone calls is only one of the Tucson center’s commitments; it also sends experts to patients’ bedsides, trains health care professionals on toxicology and educates the public in poison prevention. The free service will also answer calls about drug interactions.
“We’re like pharmacists in a can,” said Murphy.
The center has two to three pharmacists working during the day and at least one covering the night shift. More than half of the staff members are 20-year veterans, whose training includes their pharmacy degree and two years of training on toxicology, according to Boesen.
Despite this training, “everyday we run into new things,” Boesen said.
“It’s a call-by-call basis,” said fellow poison specialist Ken Fey. “It’s really important to remember that when that person’s calling, they’re having one of the worst times of their life. The frantic mother who has her child in one hand and her car keys in the other needs to hear a calm voice. She needs a health care professional to reassure her, whether it’s to get her to the hospital or manage the care at home.”
A 2008 study on the Banner Poison Control Center in Phoenix found that the poison control center saved more than $33 million in unnecessary health care charges, costs often absorbed by overburdened emergency rooms. For every dollar spent at the center, the health care system saved $36 or more.
Trained pharmacists can handle 70 percent of calls at home, according to AAPCC. Another 30 percent of calls are from health care providers, doctors and nurses who use the center’s resources to make life and death decisions.
Despite this, state budgets have been slashed so significantly that some states like New York, which closed three out of five of its centers, are going with less coverage, according to Wehrman.
A recent proposal to create one national poison control center also threatens the current local system. Both Boesen and Wehrman worry that such a system would be detrimental to the health care system.
“There was a great deal of concern about this proposal,” Wehrman said. “First, poisons are very regional, so you want a poison control specialist who knows where to get the proper anti-venom in the case of a snakebite, and is familiar with the treatment options.”
Boesen agrees, “We do scorpions better than anyone else, but another office might have better information on mushrooms, so we might rely on them for information.”
Murphy echoed those thoughts.
“With scorpion stings, we can reassure people that when they’re numb all over their body, they’re not going to die,” he said. “They’re going to be fine in a couple of hours.”
While patients who might otherwise have rushed to the hospital can manage their care at home, the center’s professionals can make sure that potentially suicidal callers get help.
Although the centers managed to avoid significant cuts, there’s still concern about the future.
“So far our dean (of the College of Pharmacy) has bailed us out last year, but we’re always worried,” Murphy said.
Boesen added, “These cuts make it even harder to do what we need to.”
Once the federal budget was signed, poison control centers around the country breathed a sigh of relief.
A proposed cut by Congress would have slashed 93 percent of federal money from the 57 poison control centers that operate around the nation, but the final budget dealt only about a 25 percent cut.
However, this momentary reprieve belies a much more significant threat to local poison control centers like the Arizona Poison and Drug Information Center, partnered with the College of Pharmacy at the University of Arizona.
“It’s hard to call it a victory to say we only got cut a little bit,” said Keith Boesen, the managing director of the center. “It’s better than the alternative, but we face a death by a thousand cuts, eventually we’ll bleed out.”
Over the last two years, the center has lost 50 percent of its funding from Arizona, and this federal cut will make it even harder to keep the center going.
The center answers about 70,000 calls a year, a quarter of which involve young children.
“We don’t have much overhead,” Boesen said. “So our costs are really about manpower and their knowledge and if we lose our people, the program suffers or breaks.”
The center operates 24 hours a day, every day. That kind of access remains important, especially since the center is also the main source of toxicology information for health care professionals. In an emergency like a snakebite or chemical poisoning, the center remains the primary source of information for EMTs, pharmacists, and doctors and nurses in hospitals.
“We know we’re talking with well-trained physicians and they know what they’re doing,” said Mark Murphy, 53, a poison control specialist at the center. “We try to be as helpful as we can, as quickly and efficiently as we can.”
According to the American Association of Poison Control Centers (AAPCC), national centers answered 4.2 million calls in 2009, 16 percent of which were from hospitals. The Arizona Poison and Drug Information Center serves the entire state, except for Maricopa County, which is served by the Banner Poison Control Center based at Good Samaritan Hospital in Phoenix.
Answering phone calls is only one of the Tucson center’s commitments; it also sends experts to patients’ bedsides, trains health care professionals on toxicology and educates the public in poison prevention. The free service will also answer calls about drug interactions.
“We’re like pharmacists in a can,” said Murphy.
The center has two to three pharmacists working during the day and at least one covering the night shift. More than half of the staff members are 20-year veterans, whose training includes their pharmacy degree and two years of training on toxicology, according to Boesen.
Despite this training, “everyday we run into new things,” Boesen said. “It’s a call-by-call basis,” said fellow poison specialist Ken Fey.
“It’s really important to remember that when that person’s calling, they’re having one of the worst times of their life. The frantic mother who has her child in one hand and her car keys in the other needs to hear a calm voice. She needs a health care professional to reassure her, whether it’s to get her to the hospital or manage the care at home.”
A 2008 study on the Banner Poison Control Center in Phoenix found that the poison control center saved more than $33 million in unnecessary health care charges, costs often absorbed by overburdened emergency rooms. For every dollar spent at the center, the health care system saved $36 or more.
Trained pharmacists can handle 70 percent of calls at home, according to AAPCC. Another 30 percent of calls are from health care providers, doctors and nurses who use the center’s resources to make life and death decisions.
Despite this, state budgets have been slashed so significantly that some states like New York, which closed three out of five of its centers, are going with less coverage, according to Wehrman.
A recent proposal to create one national poison control center also threatens the current local system. Both Boesen and Wehrman worry that such a system would be detrimental to the health care system.
“There was a great deal of concern about this proposal,” Wehrman said. “First, poisons are very regional, so you want a poison control specialist who knows where to get the proper anti-venom in the case of a snakebite, and is familiar with the treatment options.”
Boesen agrees, “We do scorpions better than anyone else, but another office might have better information on mushrooms, so we might rely on them for information.”
Murphy echoed those thoughts.
“With scorpion stings, we can reassure people that when they’re numb all over their body, they’re not going to die,” he said. “They’re going to be fine in a couple of hours.” While patients who might otherwise have rushed to the hospital can manage their care at home, the center’s professionals can make sure that potentially suicidal callers get help.
Although the centers managed to avoid significant cuts, there’s still concern about the future. “So far our dean (of the College of Pharmacy) has bailed us out last year, but we’re always worried,” Murphy said.
Boesen added, “These cuts make it even harder to do what we need to.”
