Decades after the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, health outcomes for Black Americans continue to be poorer than for non-Hispanic, white Americans.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the 2021 life expectancy at birth for Black Americans is 70.8 years, with 74.8 years for women and 66.7 years for men. For non-Hispanic white Americans, the projected life expectancy is 76.4 years, with 79.2 years for women and 73.7 years for men. The death rate for Black Americans is generally higher than for white Americans from ailments such as COVID-19, heart disease, stroke, cancer, asthma, influenza and pneumonia, diabetes, HIV/AIDS and homicide.
The experts point to a lot of reasons behind these numbers: access and affordability of health care; a history of mistrust in the health care system by Black people; inequities in income and education; environmentally hazardous businesses and facilities located in Black neighborhoods.
We also have a health care workforce that has too few Black professionals. In fact, only about 5.7% of physicians in the United States identify as Black or African American, according to the latest data from the Association of American Medical Colleges — well below the estimated 12% of the U.S. population that is Black or African American. Some Black doctors fear that their ranks will shrink further now that medical schools can’t take race into consideration in college admissions.
Even if someone has education and money, disparities exist in health outcomes. In a recent radio interview, Dr. Uché Blackstock, a Black female doctor in New York whose mother was also a doctor and who graduated from Harvard Medical School, said she realized that, even with her education, she had a five- or six-time greater risk of dying from pregnancy complications than her white counterparts.
She partly attributed the disparity to medical staff not listening as closely to their Black patients, or taking their symptoms as seriously. She recalled that tennis great Serena Williams realized after a C-section that she was experiencing symptoms of a blood clot and alerted a nurse, asking for a blood thinner and a CT scan, but the nurse suggested that pain medication had perhaps left her confused. Later, a CT scan revealed several small clots in her lungs.
There are a lot of ideas for closing the health gap between Black Americans and white populations. For example, the Biden administration is urging states to extend postpartum Medicaid coverage from the current two months to one year. Bringing grocery stores to “food deserts,” to improve access to healthful foods, will make a difference. So will technology, such as remote monitoring of blood pressure of those with hypertension.
But to Dr. Blackstock’s point, Black patients need their doctors to listen. Patient advocates — particularly Black patient advocates — could play a huge role in improving treatment and health outcomes among Black Americans.
The nursing workforce is predominantly white, but the percentage of Black registered nurses in the profession is about 10 percent, nearly double that of doctors, and Black professionals make up more than a third of certified nursing assistants. These professionals, with their experience at the bedside and knowledge of the health care system, represent a pool of candidates who could become patient advocates — working either as private advocates or in hospitals and doctors’ offices.
Imagine the relief you might feel as a Black patient in a hospital when you realize there’s someone — who looks like you — who will take time to listen and convey your concerns to the care team in the clinical language they will understand.
I started the Nurse Advocate Entrepreneur training program to help nurses, as well as any health care professionals and social workers, join the ranks of patient advocates. The Patient Advocate Certification Board (pacboard.org) also offers training to individuals, even those who have worked as volunteers in health care settings, to attain certification as a patient advocate.
If you are a Black registered nurse or health care professional, I hope you will give some consideration to becoming a patient advocate. You can get in touch with me for more information. It could mean a world of difference to your patients, as well as to you.
• Teri (Dreher) Frykenberg is a board-certified patient advocate. A critical care registered nurse for 30+ years, she is founder of NShore Patient Advocates (www.NorthShoreRN.com). Her book, “How to Be a Healthcare Advocate for Yourself & Your Loved Ones,” is available on Amazon. She is offering a free phone consultation to Daily Herald readers; email her at teri@northshorern.com.