Morning Briefing
Summaries of health policy coverage from major news organizations
Longer Looks: The Biggest Loser; America's HIV Capital
GQ: A Positive Life: How A Son Survived Being Injected With HIV By His Father
Badger's real name was Brian. He shared the name with his father, who was standing trial, accused of an inconceivable crime against him. Badger was 7. He had fevers, a swollen liver, chronic ear infections, fungus growing under his fingernails. He was on 23 oral medications. He had no immune system. A plague—the worst plague—swam the current of his blood. (Justin Heckert, 4/28)
The New York Times: After ‘The Biggest Loser,’ Their Bodies Fought To Regain Weight
Kevin Hall, a scientist at a federal research center who admits to a weakness for reality TV, had the idea to follow the “Biggest Loser” contestants for six years after that victorious night. The project was the first to measure what happened to people over as long as six years after they had lost large amounts of weight with intensive dieting and exercise. (Gina Kolata, 5/2)
The Atlantic: How A Small Town Became The Capital Of HIV In America
Jessica and Darren McIntosh were too busy to see me when I arrived at their house one Sunday morning. When I returned later, I learned what they’d been busy with: arguing with a family member, also an addict, about a single pill of prescription painkiller she’d lost, and injecting meth to get by in its absence. (Jessica Wapner, 5/3)
The New York Times: Fraying At The Edges: Her Fight To Live With Alzheimer's
A withered person with a scrambled mind, memories sealed away: That is the familiar face of Alzheimer’s. But there is also the waiting period, which Geri Taylor has been navigating with prudence, grace and hope. (N.R. Kleinfeld, 5/1)
STAT: At A Hospice Facility For Children, A Long Goodbye Is Made A Little Less Lonely
He was two generations removed from the boy in the bed, a weary young grandchild who had not fully awakened in days, and who in truth would not wake again. He would linger, silently, anywhere but the bedside — his oversize, calloused hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. Then, unmoored, he would drift away, down the hall, outside, anywhere else. (Bob Tedeschi, 5/4)
