Over the past decade, a series of studies have found that physicians-in-training who work extended shifts (>16 hours) are at increased risk of experiencing motor vehicle crashes, needlestick injuries, and medical errors. In response to public concerns and a request from Congress, the Institute of Medicine (IOM) conducted an inquiry into the issue and concluded in 2009 that resident physicians should not work for more than 16 consecutive hours without sleep. They further recommended that the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) and the Joint Commission work with the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education (ACGME) to ensure effective enforcement of new work hour standards.

The IOM's concerns with enforcement stem from well-documented non-compliance with the ACGME's 2003 work hour rules, and the ACGME's history of non-enforcement. In a nationwide cohort study, 84% of interns were found to violate the ACGME's 2003 standards in the year following their introduction.

In 2008 pharmaceutical companies spent over $12 billion on product promotion and detailing aimed at U.S. health care practitioners. Drug and device manufacturers rely on a workforce of detailers and physician speakers to reach health care practitioners and nudge their prescribing habits. To prevent undue influence and protect the public fisc, a number of states began regulating these marketing practices, requiring companies to disclose all gifts to practitioners, prohibiting the commercialized sale of prescription data, and prohibiting certain gifts altogether. The 2010 enactment of the Physician Payment Sunshine Act (PPSA) marks the first Congressional involvement in the regulation of disclosure related to pharmaceutical marketing. Overall, the Act improves transparency in pharmaceutical marketing to physicians and expands the regulation of disclosure of pharmaceutical marketing activities in important substantive ways.

After a long search, Jonathan has finally found someone willing to donate a kidney to him and thereby free him from dialysis. Meredith is Jonathan's second cousin, and she considers herself a generous person, so although she barely knows Jonathan, she is willing to help. However, as Meredith learns more about the donation process, she begins to ask questions about Jonathan: “Is he HIV positive? I heard he got it using drugs. Has he been in jail? He's already had one live donor, so what happened to the first kidney? Did he forget to take his drugs or something?” The transplant center must, then, decide if Meredith is, in fact, entitled to answers to these kinds of questions. According to the Consensus Statement on the Live Organ Donor, “It is incumbent on the transplant center to provide full and accurate disclosure to potential donors of all pertinent information regarding risk and benefit to the donor and recipient.” But whether answers to the Meredith's questions count as “pertinent information regarding the risk and benefit” is the issue at hand.

Over the past several years, the most widely publicized issue in capital litigation has been the constitutional status of states’ lethal injection protocols. Death row inmates have not challenged the constitutionality of lethal injection itself, but rather execution protocols and their potential for maladministration. The inmates’ concern is due to the three-drug protocol used in the vast majority of capital jurisdictions: if the anesthetic, which is administered first, is ineffectively delivered, then the second and third drugs — the paralytic and heartbeat-ceasing agents — will cause torturous pain and suffering in violation of the Eight Amendment. Inmates have argued that the participation of anesthesiologists or other highly trained medical professionals is constitutionally required to minimize the risk of unnecessary suffering. This litigation, in conjunction with evidence that some executed inmates suffered torturous pain, has reinvigorated the ethical debate about physician participation in executions. Even though the United States Supreme Court has signaled that physician participation is not constitutionally required, lawmakers in death penalty states must consider the ethics of physician involvement.

A growing distrust exists among Latin American populations as past abuses in medical research have rightly been publicized, and as researchers continue to intentionally and unintentionally circumvent the systems of regulation and oversight. Beyond the cultural gaps between researcher and subject, the Latin American people have their own perspectives about responsible conduct of research formed by sociopolitical thought and familial and community identity, which may be overlooked or ignored by the U.S. and other foreign nations. Just as the Havasupai Tribe in Arizona have challenged us to think about the role of culture and the need for improved regulations and practices in conducting research within the United States, through past abuses in human experimentation and the emergence of discourse between our Latin American neighbors, similar challenges confront us.

Amid the action of the 2013 Super Bowl aired the usual array of high-priced advertisements. Most ads were original. Some were unusual. One regional ad, however, seemed distantly familiar. The 30-second commercial promoted the NJOY King electronic (or e-) cigarette1 to at least 10 million viewers in several major markets. It featured an attractive male model taking a drag from what looks like (and NJOY calls) a cigarette. He then slowly blows smoke to the tune of Foreigner’s “Feels Like the First Time.” Of course, the “smoke” does not come from burning tobacco. Rather, it is the water vapor produced by an e-cigarette as part of its nicotine delivery process. This, however, was not evident from the imagery. For those watching the broadcast, including thousands of minors, NJOY’s advertisement depicted what tobacco companies have not portrayed on television for decades: a person engaged in smoking behavior.

The recent Minnesota case of In re Emergency Guardianship of Albert Barnes illustrates an emerging class of cases where a dispute between a family proxy and a hospital over “medical futility” requires legal resolution. The case was further complicated by the patient’s spouse who fraudulently claimed to be the patient’s designated health care proxy and who misrepresented the patient’s previously expressed treatment preferences. Barnes demonstrates the degree of significant administrative and institutional support to the health care team, ethics consultants, and futility committees that is required when a futility dispute escalates to the need for judicial resolution. An institutional futility policy, especially one that is endorsed by other regional medical centers and organizations, is an important foundation for a hospital that seeks judicial support in a dispute over medical futility in end of life care.