My editing roles were expanded in 2023 to oversee our health care reporters and entire health care coverage. This includes producing our annual Medicare enrollment guide, coverage of local hospitals, universities, research trends, health policy and more.
It’s great to expand on my knowledge as a former health care reporter and help shape our future coverage.
Ileana Brenes had been feeling dizzy at the St. Petersburg nursing home where she worked. She was pale and tired all the time.
“My doctor called me with my blood results and told me to go to the hospital right away,” said Brenes, 54, a nursing assistant. She went to Bayfront Health St. Petersburg, where doctors gave her a blood transfusion and prescribed medication to raise her iron levels.
At the time, in 2016, Brenes didn’t have insurance. So she met with an administrator at the hospital and filled out paperwork to get help with the cost. She said she knew Bayfront Health was a “safety net” hospital in the region, meaning doctors there would still treat her regardless of her ability to pay.
What she didn’t expect was the lawsuit Bayfront later filed against her for nearly $3,000, including court fees. “I think there was a miscommunication,” she said, “because I did everything they told me to, but still had to go to court.”
Brenes is one of hundreds of patients who have been sued by Bayfront Health St. Petersburg in recent years as the hospital evolved from a nonprofit institution to a for-profit arm of a national chain. The number of patients sued individually in Pinellas County civil and small claims court has risen from about 500 in 2015 to more than 730 so far this year, putting the hospital on pace to double that number by the end of 2019, a Tampa Bay Times analysis shows.
The increase represents a stark change from past practice. In 2012, when Bayfront was still a non-profit, the hospital filed hundreds of small claims cases against patients’ insurance companies, not the patients themselves. That continued in 2013 and 2014 as the hospital quickly changed hands to one corporate chain, then another.
TAMPA — The Laser Spine Institute may have closed its doors suddenly in March, but repercussions from the surgery center’s business practices continue to reverberate in the courts.
Two local lawsuits provide the clearest picture yet of the forces that led the Tampa company to shut down, resulting in the loss of some 500 jobs. Documents detail a years-long legal battle among three business partners, a penchant for paying large executive salaries and bonuses, and a struggle against mounting debt.
Another factor: ego. At one point, two of the founders dared their partner to sue them, telling him the company was making so much money it wouldn’t matter. When the partner called their bluff, his lawsuit ended up being a decisive blow that helped put Laser Spine in the grave.
That case came to a head June 30, when a judge in Hillsborough County Circuit Court awarded Joe Samuel Bailey $260 million in damages, capping what had been a 13-year battle between Bailey and Laser Spine founders, Dr. James St. Louis and Dr. Michael Perry.
Bailey accused them of breach of fiduciary duty, defamation, slander, violation of the Florida Deceptive and Unfair Trade Practices Act, conspiracy and tortious interference.
Following two long bench trials and appeals, he now assumes a majority share in the remains of Laser Spine, which is undergoing an insolvency process. Similar to a federal bankruptcy filing, the process assesses all equipment and other materials Laser Spine owned or controlled and decides what is valuable enough to sell.
In 2019, being diagnosed with HIV is no longer a death sentence. But the rates of the infection continue to climb in America among some groups, despite advancements in medicine, education and outreach. More than 40,000 new HIV infections are reported every year, according to the Centers For Disease Control and Prevention. But 40 percent of people living with HIV don’t know they have it, or know and are not seeking out care. In his State of the Union address in February, President Donald Trump announced an initiative to end the HIV epidemic in the U.S. by 2030.
In this hour-long webinar, reporters and editors will learn how to find, interpret and use data about HIV in reported stories that go beyond a medical lens. Because HIV is not only a medical topic, but a political, racial, and socioeconomic one. It infects people of all ages, races, genders and sexual identities.
Journalists of all beats and backgrounds will learn why it’s important for their communities to understand HIV — and how they can tell more compelling stories to engage their audiences on the topic.
Instructor
Justine Griffin is the health and medicine reporter for the Tampa Bay Times. She is a past vice president of the Journalism & Women Symposium, where she served on the board of directors for more than three years. Griffin has covered a wide range of beats, from retail and tourism to transportation and real estate, at the Times. She has also covered business news at daily newspapers across Florida. Prior to joining the Times, Griffin was the assistant projects editor at the Sarasota Herald-Tribune.
Who should take this course
Reporters from all media and beats and anyone else interested in different ways to approach stories about HIV/AIDS.
What will I learn:
Where to find public records and data to track trends
Where to find sources both nationally and in your own community to tell HIV-related stories
Tips on how to get past stigma and political narratives
Ideas for producing stories beyond a medical angle
What’s new in medical research, social outreach and where to find news pegs throughout the year
This webinar is free, thanks to support from our training partner, NLGJA: The Association of LGBTQ Journalists.
Founded in 1990, NLGJA is an organization of journalists, media professionals, educators and students working from within the news industry to foster fair and accurate coverage of LGBTQ issues. NLGJA opposes all forms of workplace bias and provides professional development to its members.
DUNEDIN — England Miano greeted every woman who walked into the Escape Root Juicery with open arms, wrapping each in a warm hug.
Some of the faces she had seen only on Facebook. Others, fellow parents, she’d known for some time.
Miano, 40, was hosting a meetup for people like her who challenge traditional health norms, like vaccinating their kids.
A mother of three who lives and works in north Pinellas County, Miano chose not to vaccinate her youngest after dealing with developmental issues with her second child. She believes vaccinations are the reason her son, Davis, has autism.
At the juicery, she and other Tampa Bay area moms gathered around plush chairs and colorful couches, sharing stories and self-care tips over lattes, veggie smoothies and organic champagne. Among the topics: CBD oil, yoga, whole foods and activated charcoal.
Miano and her guests are part of a small but increasingly vocal slice of the U.S. population who distrust doctors and federal health agencies, and who often base their positions on misinformation from fringe sources.
The medical community has sounded alarms. But so too have tech companies like Amazon and Instagram, which are trying to keep false information from spreading on their platforms.
Miano sees this resistance and works to push past it.
“Before Facebook started censoring so much, it’s where we shared a lot of facts and information,” she says. “Now our posts get deleted all the time. It’s so time-consuming to do the research. It’s not easy. But they don’t want it to be shared.”
At the same time, vaccine-preventable diseases are mounting a comeback.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is reporting the largest number of measles cases nationally in 25 years. New York, Washington and Texas are seeing outbreaks.
Florida investigated 15 measles cases in 2018, up from the previous five years, when fewer than 10 cases was the norm.
Pinellas County reported three cases in unvaccinated adults last year — the first the county has seen in 20 years. And last month, researchers identified Hillsborough as the 17th most at-risk county in the nation for a measles outbreak.
Some doctors fear they’ll never be able to convince people like Miano and her friends that vaccines are safe and effective.
The mindset is similar to that of Joshua McAdams and Taylor Bland-Ball, the Tampa couple who recently ended chemotherapy for their 3-year-old son, Noah, in favor of alternative remedies, only to have a Hillsborough County judge order last month that the treatment resume.
“It’s hard to compete with these personal stories that people share on social media, and what parents see in front of their own eyes with their own children,” said Dr. Rebecca Plant, a pediatrician at Tampa General Hospital and an assistant professor with USF Health. “The latter is going to carry a lot heavier of a weight in their own hearts and minds than if I can sit there and spout all the numbers and recent publications.”
The conversation at Miano’s meetup turns to all the backlash they get, not only from doctors, but from neighbors and Facebook friends as well.
“I make suggestions that I think can help their children, who just look so sickly all the time, and they are so defensive,” one woman says. “I wish them no harm. I just want to help them.”
Another compares the reaction to how Nazis treated Jews: “We’re the most hated people in America right now.”