Telemedicine isn't just for rural areas without a lot of doctors anymore.
In the last few years, urban areas all over the country have been exploring how they can connect to patients virtually to improve access to primary care and keep people from calling 911 for non-urgent problems.
In Washington, D.C., Mary's Center, a community health center, is piloting a program to provide primary care virtually to Medicaid patients who can't make it in to any of their clinics. Sometimes there are mobility or childcare issues, some people may not be able to get time off of work. Others simply don't wantto go.
Dennis Lebron Dolman was in the latter group. He went to a health screening fair over the summer, where Mary's Center medical assistant Grace Kelly took his blood pressure. It was dangerously high: 180 over 100 — stroke-level high. He had no idea it was that bad.
Despite those scary numbers, he didn't want to go to a doctor and get treatment. So Kelly, who was working at the health fair, talked him into an alternative: she would come to him, with a clinic in a suitcase (a scale, blood pressure monitor, virtual stethoscope), and a laptop to connect virtually with a doctor across town. All of it is paid for by Trusted Health Plan, one of D.C. Medicaid's managed care organizations, which has partnered with Mary's Center to cover home visits like this one as part of the pilot program.
Just like a doctor's office, at home
On a fall afternoon three months later, Dolman, 41, sits next to Kelly on a cushy brown couch at his mom's house in Northeast D.C.
Kelly pulls out her phone and put on a meditation app.
"So what I want you to do is listen to this while I take your blood pressure," she says. "Because I do not want it to be high."
"OK," he says, leaning back.
"As you breathe in, be aware of breathing in," the meditation lady croons from the app. "And as you breathe out..."
Kelly has met with Dolman for several telemedicine appointments over the past few months. His blood pressure has been improving, but today the reading is just OK.
"It's a lot better than before, but it's still high," Kelly says.
At the appointment, Kelly goes through all the things patients normally do at a doctor's office before the doctor comes in. She checks Dolman's weight, temperature and blood pressure. When it's time for the doctor to appear, the laptop starts ringing.
Dolman's doctor is Gita Agarwal, and at this moment, she's in an exam room at Mary's Center in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington, sitting in front of her laptop camera. She can see Dolman and check out all the vitals that Kelly has just entered into his virtual chart.
The blood pressure is not quite where she wants it, but she agrees to let him keep improving his diet and exercising to try to get it down, rather than taking medicine. He'd really rather not take anything.
Then she spots his weight.
"Oh!" she shouts. "What happened with the weight?"
"It might be clothes," Kelly suggests. Dolman is wearing sweats and thermals.
"All nine pounds of it?" Agarwal asks.
Dolman weighs 210, which isn't too bad for his height, but he had lost weight as part of a diet and exercise program to get his blood pressure down. Now it has crept back up.
"I haven't made it to the gym yet. That's the problem," he says.
"What should we do, what do you think?" Agarwal asked. "Do you want to see a nutritionist?"
He thinks about it. "That would be fine."
"And how about an exercise program?"
"Yes," he says.