Amadeo
Marcos was the first surgeon to take
a piece of liver from a healthy living donor and successfully transplant
it into an unrelated critically ill patient. In the nine years since,
he's done more of these complex surgeries than anyone. Topping his
vitae is his current position, chief of the transplant division
at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center's prestigious Thomas
E. Starzl Transplantation Institute. If that isn't enough to distinguish
him in the field, there is this: For the past four years, he has
routinely endured one of the longest commutes to the operating room
made by any surgeon anywhere.
It begins in the afternoon with a drive to
the Allegheny County Airport, where a private jet is fueled and
waiting. He spends the remaining hours of daylight and the entire
night in the air until, some 4,800 miles later, he touches down
at 6 the following morning in Palermo, Italy, the principal city
of the Region of Sicily. From the airport, he is driven to ISMETT,
an acronym from the Italian for the UPMCmanaged Mediterranean
Institute for Transplantation and Advanced Specialized Therapies.
There, Dr. Marcos begins a full day of surgery, the first of three
or four daylong living-donor liver transplants he will work before
jetting back home to Pittsburgh.
Living-donor transplantation is a growth industry
on the rocky island, which is starved for usable cadaver organs
to transplant. “Now when we arrive,” Dr. Marcos says,
“they are already telling us about the next three or four
pairs of patients who are scheduled for the next time we come.”
Six weeks later, he will make the trip again.
Transcontinental commutes have become part
of the job description for an increasing number of UPMC administrators,
physicians, nurses and others as the western Pennsylvania health-care
giant expands its specialty care abroad, realizing profits far
greater than what it can hope to earn in the U.S. while establishing
its brand on foreign soil. In the past 10 years, its presence
across the Atlantic has grown to include a deal to manage a biomedical
research center financed by the Italian government, a network
of cancer centers in Ireland, a contract to help improve emergency
medicine in Qatar and arrangements to sell the services of several
companies UPMC has a stake in, most of which are based in Pittsburgh.
In doing so, UPMC joins the short list of American
health-care systems that are actively exporting their expertise
and/or brand abroad, including the Mayo Clinic, Harvard Medical
Center, Cleveland Clinic and the University of Texas M.D. Anderson
Cancer Center.
“You usually need to have the elite
reputation to do this,” says Peter Temes, president and
founder of the ILO Institute, a Connecticut-based organization
specializing in research related to new markets and innovation.
“Underlying that, you must be able to deliver world-class
medical treatment. There are few institutions that can do both.
The Mayo Clinic can do it, for example, because the fact that
it is the Mayo Clinic makes it a powerful draw anywhere in the
world.”
The UPMC brand, on the other hand, was not
as widely recognized overseas when it launched its first major
international venture. What UPMC had going for it was a highly
regarded domestic transplant program that, over more than two
decades, had trained a cadre of surgeons from other nations. ISMETT
evolved from a 1995 conversation that took place on a beach along
the Tyrrhenian coast between one of those surgeons, Ignazio Marino,
and a Palermo liver specialist, Ugo Palazzo, who wanted an established
transplant program like UPMC's to set up shop in Palermo. The
local joke that the best transplant service in Sicily was Italy's
national airline, Alitalia, was too close to the truth to be funny.
The island's capacity to perform organ transplants was so underdeveloped
that the government — the chief provider of health care
— was spending upwards of $220 million a year flying transplant
patients to foreign operating rooms. Worse, thousands of patients
unable to get a transplant were dying.
Although UPMC had no official strategy at the
time for global expansion, interest in the idea of branching out
into Europe had been brewing. Hospital physicians, particularly
transplant surgeons, were already treating patients from some
30 countries in Oakland. That population would thin following
the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks and bombings in Europe and
elsewhere when fewer foreign patients began entering the United
States for medical care — a development of no small consequence
given the fact that most of them arrive at American hospitals
able to pay the full cost of expensive procedures in cash. Also,
new rules governing how U.S. donor organs are allocated tightened
the supply available to patients coming from abroad.
“I wish I could say we had the
foresight to realize how things would change in the way in which
patients could travel,” says Chuck Bogosta, executive vice
president for UPMC's Strategic Business Initiatives and its cancer
centers. “But we basically took the philosophy that it was
better to keep patients in their home country and treat them there.
And it was profitable enough that we could bring back the revenue
and invest it in our western Pennsylvania health care system.”
Many of the factors favoring business in Italy
were UPMC-friendly enough to become part of the blueprint the
health care system today uses to assess new opportunities in other
countries.
There was a clear demand for transplantation,
a UPMC specialty. The Italian and Sicilian governments were solidly
behind the venture, willing to commit public funds to cover the
cost of renovating a temporary home in an existing public hospital
and, a few years later, put up $58 million to build a new 70-bed
high-tech facility. UPMC was given complete clinical control.
And the Italian government agreed to assume the risk on the operational
side and pay UPMC a largely fixed fee to manage ISMETT, as well
as per-case royalties.
Last year, ISMETT surgeons performed 152 solid
organ transplants of all kinds — liver, kidney, heart, lung
and pancreas — pushing their seven-year total above 600.
More important to patients, the center's survival rates for all
organ transplants exceed the national averages. Ninety percent
of their liver transplant patients survive at least one year,
higher than Italy's average one-year survival rate of 86 percent.
Also, fewer transplant candidates die while waiting for their
surgeries. Those outcomes, along with the hospital's marble floors,
soaring atrium, private bathrooms and plentiful televisions —
amenities patients cannot find anywhere else on the island —
have helped make ISMETT the place to go for the seriously ill,
so much so that openings are scarce and the waiting list is long.
There were plenty of bumps in the road. ISMETT
was three years late moving into its new home, in part, because
of a lawsuit brought by the winning contractor who was replaced
when he could not demonstrate to the satisfaction of Sicilian
law an absence of ties to organized crime. “One of the things
you have to always worry about when working in this part of the
country is the possible infiltration of organized crime, which
would like to put its hand on any activity that has a strong economic
value,” says Dr. Bruno Gridelli, ISMETT's medical and science
director. In what was more of an annoyance than a setback, a truck
full of computers for the new hospital was hijacked and, two days
later, a truck laden with lamps met the same fate.
Clinically, ISMETT surgeons deal with a shortage
of donor organs more severe than that found in the U.S., where
there are roughly 30 donors per million people. Italy's donor
rate is 22 donors per million citizens. Sicily's rate in 2003
was only 7.9 per million people. One way ISMETT has worked around
the problem is to develop a living-donor liver transplant program.
More than 40 percent of ISMETT's liver transplants
are of the living donor variety. By comparison, such procedures
account for about 20 percent of the liver transplants done by
UPMC's Pittsburgh surgeons. This complex process is made possible
by the liver's capacity to regenerate and involves two major operations:
one to remove 50 to 60 percent of the donor's healthy liver; the
other to transplant that section into the ailing recipient. Unlike
the United States, Italy requires that living donors be related
to the recipient and they get court approval before going under
the scalpel. Despite such legal protocols, doctors say, there
is no shortage of donors willing to offer a piece of their liver
to a family member, which has helped ISMETT's living- donor liver
program to become the busiest in Europe.
Much of the strategy UPMC officials use today
to assess new opportunities abroad was informed by their experience
in Italy. They provide only the specialty services UPMC excels
in, demand clinical control and insist on installing clinical
models that have proven successful in their western Pennsylvania
hospitals. They lean toward countries where they've developed
local advocates who understand both the medical and political
realities, place their own people overseas and only in nations
where it is safe for them to live and work. They favor projects
with the potential to generate additional business ventures. And
they require a clear and reliable path to reimbursement, preferring
to work with governments, particularly in Europe, where public
health care systems rule.
Even when all of their conditions are met,
setting up an American-style hospital in a foreign culture has
presented challenges. One has been introducing computer- based
records systems to operations that have long relied on paper.
Another is staffing. At ISMETT, for example, they struggled early
when they tried to adopt a Pittsburgh-based staffing model without
taking into account that, in Italy, workers are given 35 days
of vacation, in addition to a number of sick days and holidays.
UPMC officials have one more guideline they
use to determine whether or not to pursue an opportunity overseas:
They must be convinced they can make a profit, which in the nonprofit
world means a healthy “margin.”
For fiscal 2007, UPMC reported an operating
margin of $220 million, or 3.5 percent of its operating revenues.
In contrast, says Bogosta, its overseas ventures typically generate
revenue above $100 million with margins ranging between 10 and
15 percent. “In western Pennsylvania, we can't improve our
margins unless we become more efficient because reimbursement
is not going up anywhere in the United States. And improving efficiency
of services is very much dependent on making capital investments
in information technology and infrastructure. Whereas overseas,
you can get a multiple of those numbers on a percentage basis.”
Two basic business models have also emerged.
The one preferred by UPMC officials is the cost-plus model, used
in Italy, that allows the health care system to avoid placing
any capital at risk while receiving a management fee and per-case
royalties. In Ireland, UPMC is involved in more of a traditional
joint venture, in which it invested money in the network of cancer
centers with other companies in exchange for a 50 percent stake.
Beyond the earnings being returned to its western
Pennsylvania operations, the economic impact of UPMC's overseas
operations on the region remains undetermined, including the impact
of UPMC jobs related to international operations, money flowing
to hotels and other businesses from the more than 200 foreign
health professionals who've stayed in Pittsburgh for extended
periods while being trained and the overseas business gained by
local companies, such as D3 Radiation Planning. From its Shadyside
offices, the UPMC spin-off offers treatment planning and other
services necessary to perform the most advanced radiotherapy on
cancer patients, allowing hospitals and clinics — including
UPMC's centers in Ireland — to avoid having to recruit and
keep on payroll the scarce and expensive talent needed to use
high-end technologies, such as intensity modulated radiotherapy
(IMRT), image guided radiotherapy and gated therapy.
When the UPMC Whitfield Cancer Centre opened
last year in Waterford, Ireland, it brought such technologies
to a region of the country hungry for any type of cancer care,
let alone the most advanced. It also attracted considerable coverage
in Irish newspapers and on television.
“It's created a bit of a stir over
here,” says Dr. Dayle Hacking, a UPMC Whitfield Cancer Centre
radiation oncologist, one of only a dozen such specialists practicing
in the country. For D3, it meant a new client and untold possibilities.
“You have a relatively small private
hospital in a rural area in Ireland delivering U.S. academic-type
IMRT within six months of opening its doors. That's the kind of
thing D3 can do,” says Greg Ross, company president. “What
we're hopeful for is that others want to replicate that success.
If IMRT reimbursement is offered in other countries, there will
be a tremendous opportunity for us.”
Brightening the prospects for both D3 and UPMC
was the Irish government's decision earlier this year to allow
patients with national health coverage to be treated at UPMC Whitfield.
About half of Ireland's population relies on the government health
plan. Although it marked the first time that payment for public
patients was extended to a private clinic, UPMC officials were
not surprised. When Prime Minister Bertie Ahern was running for
reelection a few years earlier, several thousand Waterford citizens
pelted his motorcade with daffodils to protest the lack of local
cancer care. It was a clear sign that there was an emotional demand
for what a UPMC cancer center could offer and little chance politicians
would deny it a contract. To do so would have meant sending patients
with national health coverage on a five-hour round trip to Dublin
every day for four weeks to receive treatment — a drive
that twice a day would take them past the UPMC cancer center where
their neighbors with private insurance were being treated.
“The secret to this is being extremely
involved, getting to know all of the local players on the government
and medical levels and interacting to the point where you are
able to do what you need to do within that country,” says
Michael Costello, the managing director of the UPMC Whitfield
Cancer Centre who held a similar post with ISMETT. “You
don't try to manage these projects from 5,000 miles away.”
While UPMC's international experience has deepened
and its strategy matured, officials rely on nothing more sophisticated
than word of mouth to attract potential business opportunities.
Its work in Qatar helping the nation's largest health care system
improve its emergency medical services has roots in a brief telephone
conversation more than 10 years ago between a Saudi doctor who
had trained in Pittsburgh and Walt Allan Stoy, Ph.D., director
of the Hamad Medical Corporation/UPMC Partnership in Qatar.
“He called and said, 'I'm going
to send you a plane ticket. You come over,'” says Stoy.
“We ended up doing an evaluation of the emergency medical
system of Saudi Arabia. The way things work in the Middle East
is that you work for one group; they share information with other
groups.”
The Saudi doctor shared with a doctor in Qatar,
which led to a consulting contract in that country. That, in turn,
led to the 4 1⁄2-year, $100 million contract signed this
last year with the Hamad group.
UPMC officials are optimistic that the trend
will continue. Chuck Bogosta's phone keeps ringing with new opportunities.
He makes two to three overseas trips a month, mostly to tend to
business development. And the Strategic Business Initiatives division
he heads is opening offices in Rome and Dublin.
“We're taking the long-term approach,”
he says. “We won't really see the fruits of what we are
doing today for another five to 10 years — when international
revenue and margins are going up while domestic reimbursements
are going down and domestic margins are being squeezed.”
Jeffrey Fraser is a Pittsburgh-based freelance
writer and former newspaper journalist.
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