Nonprofit pivots to telemedical treatments and therapies amid pandemic

telehealth

Planned Parenthood has made several of its services — including gender-affirming hormone therapy — available virtually. Getty Images

Naomi West has been homebound since COVID-19 became a threat in February. Sitting in front of her computer screen, much of her time is spent pursuing her graduate degree in physics from Rice University and teaching courses through Zoom. Most of her virtual meetings are the same except for one recurring appointment. Every 90 days, West logs on her computer to sit with a Planned Parenthood Gulf Coast (PPGC) nurse practitioner and check-in on her gender-affirming hormone therapy.

West, a Houston trans woman, made her first appointment to receive hormone therapy in October, prior to the pandemic. As she embarked on her transition, she saw an immediate change within herself.

"There was absolutely no going back...it was a night and day difference within 24 hours," she explains.

West has been receiving treatment for ten months at Planned Parenthood. After being hospitalized for depression and drowning in hundred-hour work weeks, West was feeling hopeless. Inspired by her best friend's journey with hormone therapy at Planned Parenthood, West felt motivated to change her life.

"The difference [trans care] makes is immeasurable to say the least," she says, "I couldn't imagine having it any other way. I couldn't imagine being without it."

Trans care is offered at two Houston-area Planned Parenthood locations—Prevention Park and Northville. Since the coronavirus, Planned Parenthood's services have gone virtual, allowing Texans outside of Houston to experience the service.

"COVID-19 has really changed the way we approach patient care," says Dr. Bhavik Kumar, medical director of Primary and Trans Care at PPGC.

The centers first rolled out virtual appointments on April 1, allowing them to safely serve 5,539 patients in four months.

"We've moved a lot of our care towards telehealth, which has allowed people to access care in a way that is safer for them and also protects our frontline workers," explains Dr. Kumar.

The healthcare provider has six centers in the Houston area, as well as two in Louisiana, that are providing virtual appointments with experts as well as access to curbside birth control. Trans care first became available at Planned Parenthood in 2019, and includes gender-affirming hormone therapy for patients over 18.

"We went into providing trans care knowing that a lot of folks have bad experiences accessing healthcare and perhaps bad experiences with providers," says Dr. Kumar. "There's a lot of fear and anxiety in accessing care for trans communities, whether it's being misgendered, having their dead name used, or having a number of different things that can lead to traumatic experiences," he explains.

To a transgender person, access to health isn't just a hot button political issue but a lifeline. Like West, many transgender Americans struggle with depression and feelings of hopelessness.

In a 2019 survey from The Trevor Project, 29 percent of trans and non-binary youth reported that they'd attempted suicide while 54 percent considered it. The striking statistics are a glimpse into the struggles trans and nonbinary people face daily as they experience discrimination, violence, and cohersion due to their gender identity.

West, like many in the trans community, shared the same fears prior to her first appointment.

"I've always come down with what I say is white coat syndrome, but within 10 minutes I realized it was all completely unfounded," she explains.

PPGC follows an informed consent treatment model, meaning patients are not required to receive an approval letter from a therapist to begin treatment. After speaking with a patient to explain the risks and benefits of hormone therapy, patients can make the decision to move forward.

"It was just a conversation," explained West, "I felt no judgement. It was just support for my decision to begin hormone therapy and suggestions for how to go about it, when to go about it—they were nothing if not accommodating.

Telehealth lends itself as a suitable substitution for in person care, according to West. Many of the appointments are spent discussing her psychological state and feelings regarding the treatment, and she goes for a blood test every 90 days. West, who has been very careful to prevent exposure to COVID-19, has felt at ease meeting virtually with her nurse practitioner.

Thanks to the ability telehealth has to connect us with people regardless of distance, transgender Texans have access to care at any distance. One of the core benefits of trans telehealth is that "folks who are further away from our health centers, perhaps in rural communities, don't have to make the several hour drive to the health center and then back," says Dr. Kumar.

The convenience has allowed PPGC to accommodate 240 gender-affirming hormone therapy appointments and serve 176 transgender patients.

More than cut travel time, the emergence of telemedicine also welcomes comfort. "They get to be in the safety and the comfort of their home or wherever they do feel safe," explains Dr. Kumar, "They can have other folks around them if they want, whether it's family or friends."

"We are constantly analyzing the way we provide care, but even more so in a different way during the pandemic," shares Dr. Kumar. Telehealth services include birth control consultation, emergency contraception, long-acting birth control implant consultations, PrEP follow-ups, primary care, STI treatment, and other healful visits to address problems like pelvic pain or bleeding.

Of the many services that are now remote, Depo birth control shots and oral contraceptives, are available curbside.

"Patients don't have to get out of the car; they don't have to worry about touching the door handle or anything else they have anxiety around," explains Dr. Kumar, "They're able to access the care they need without having to deal with potential exposure."

Will telehealth at PPGC become a permanent staple? Only time will tell, but Dr. Kumar has found that patients have found the service to be helpful during the COVID-19 pandemic.

"We always strive to provide as many options for our patients so that they can get the healthcare that's best for them," shares Dr. Kumar.

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Baylor College of Medicine launches VC fund to invest in biotech startups

fresh funding

Houston’s Baylor College of Medicine just unveiled a new venture capital fund that backs early-stage biotech startups—and it’s already made its first investment.

BCM Legacy Fund I, funded by philanthropies, invested an undisclosed amount in Houston biotech startup Nemea Therapeutics. Nemea, a spinout of the Baylor College of Medicine and Germany’s Lead Discovery Center, is developing an oral drug to treat metastatic triple-negative breast cancer that no longer responds to currently available therapies.

This type of aggressive cancer spreads from the breast to other areas of the body, such as the bones, liver, lungs or brain. Roughly 38,000 to 57,000 Americans are diagnosed each year with metastatic triple-negative breast cancer. One study showed about half of patients survive past the one-year mark following diagnosis and about one-third survive two years.

“Baylor College of Medicine’s laboratories produce discoveries with the potential to change patients’ lives, and too many of them stall where academic funding ends and private investment has not yet begun,” Dr. Jakub Tolar, president, CEO and executive dean of the Baylor College of Medicine, said in a press release. “The BCM Legacy Fund fills that gap, giving our scientists a path to advance their discoveries to patients.”

The National Institutes of Health awards more than $36 billion per year for biomedical research in the U.S., Baylor said. But some biomedical discoveries “never leave the starting line because they don’t yet fit the economics of venture capital,” the college said.

“The forefront of a new model”

The BCM Legacy Fund aggregates philanthropic capital from private foundations and donor-advised funds. It then invests in startups so they can move beyond that starting line and into later-stage investment rounds. The Greater Houston Community Foundation is the fund’s philanthropic partner.

“It’s exciting to be on the forefront of a new model for philanthropic capital,” said Houston entrepreneur and investor Burton Hanson, managing partner of the fund.

“Not only do we hope to solve a real problem by advancing these therapies to the patients who need them most, but we also hope this model will inspire others in the city and beyond toward philanthropic creativity and a posture of ‘I sacrifice; we win.’”

The fund expects to invest in about 15 early-stage startups over a five-year span. Baylor declined to divulge the amount of money in the fund and the size of the investment in Nemea.

Nemea’s “world-class chemistry”

Hanson oversees the Baylor fund alongside Chicago investor Steve Lehmann, who led the University of Chicago’s Innovation Fund.

Lehmann said Nemea, the fund’s first portfolio company, “has world-class chemistry, Baylor biology, and patients with no good options. Our job is to fund the experiments that carry it to the next handoff, so that industry and later-stage investors can take it from there.”

Based at Houston’s massive Texas Medical Center, Nemea plans to start clinical trials next year in collaboration with Baylor’s Lester and Sue Smith Breast Center.

Nemea previously received $9 million from the Lead Discovery Center and a $1.6 million grant from Baylor. Last year, the startup said it was seeking $25 million to $30 million in seed and Series A funding.

Debra McCoy of Houston, a former managing director at BlackRock and former partner at Bain & Co., and Paul Thomas, co-founder and CEO of Spring-based benefits manager Luscinia Health, sit on the Baylor fund’s governing board. Dr. Paul Klotman, former president, CEO and executive dean of Baylor, is a senior strategic adviser.

How does the fund find investment targets?

The Baylor Legacy Fund relies on two tools to help unearth early-stage biotech startups:

  • High-resolution “innovation maps” of research institutions. These maps surface hidden clusters of innovation, identify rising-star researchers and tie pockets of “innovation supply” at Baylor to areas of “innovation demand” in biotech.
  • AI-enhanced due diligence. AI agents assist with due diligence of early-stage biotech startups. The fund says the platform “distills the frameworks we’ve developed over a decade of teaching and investing into a flexible … diligence environment.”

MD Anderson unveils $3.4B expansion with two new Houston cancer care facilities

major expansion

The cutting edge of cancer-fighting technology and science is getting even sharper after MD Anderson announced last week that it will open two new facilities in the Texas Medical Center within the next five years. Inspiration Tower and Prism will expand MD Anderson’s annual patient load in the TMC to 250,000 annually and will incorporate a variety of new techniques.

The $3.4 billion project will add 2 million square feet to MD Anderson's TMC footprint, bringing its total campus size to 22 million square feet by 2032. Located at the corner of Fannin Street and Holcombe Boulevard, the cancer center says the two new facilities will serve as its new "front door" to the TMC.

“Every detail of these buildings, from the technology to the treatment rooms, was designed around our patients who will receive their care in them and our employees who will work in them. The facilities will serve as a physical representation of hope for the patients and their families who will walk through the doors,” Dr. Jeffrey E. Lee, president ad interim of UT MD Anderson, said in a news release. “Inspiration Tower and Prism are the future of cancer care, and we are grateful for the longstanding support and guidance we’ve received from the UT System Board of Regents to bring these projects to life. These facilities are part of the most impactful capital expansion in UT MD Anderson’s history.”

Prism is especially exciting as it will represent fully half of the linear accelerator treatment in the TMC. Linear accelerator is a radiation treatment that uses magnetically charged fields to deliver targeted external radiation therapy, like shooting cancer with a rail gun. The treatment is safer and has fewer side effects than older radiation treatments.

In addition, Prism will contain 12 MRI machines, four CT scanners, two PET-CT units, 18 radiation vaults and seven radiation simulators. Patient comfort has also been put at a premium with multiple gardens and roof overlooks.

“Every patient we treat deserves an environment that reflects the excellence of the care they receive at UT MD Anderson,” Chris McKee, executive vice president and chief strategy officer at UT MD Anderson, added in the release. “Our new facilities will be innovative, agile, adaptable and beautiful, and they will allow us to care for more patients, more effectively – in an environment that enhances healing and well-being. We are building for our future and for every patient who will be counting on us.”

Prism is slated to open in 2030.

Inspiration Tower will have 25 floors of surgical, diagnostic, and treatment services. At 1.4 million square feet, it’s currently expected to be the largest cancer-specific treatment facility in the United States. The tower will be divided into units for specific types of cancer, making it easy to integrate the advancing research being done all over Houston.

Like Prism, Inspiration Tower is specifically designed to offer comfort and reassurance, with more garden space, terraces, and beautiful scenery to ease patient distress. It is expected to open in 2032.

Tesla will pull the plug on Cybertruck production at Texas factory in 2027

Tesla Talk

Tesla’s Cybertruck, the hulking, stainless-steel pickup that inspired devotion and derision with its science-fiction looks, will cease production next year.

CEO Elon Musk announced the model’s demise Friday, November 6, with a curt post on X, his social media site, simply noting production of the vehicle “will be winding down” around the middle of 2027 at its facility outside Austin, Texas. Musk said the move was to allow increased production of its Cybercab robotaxi.

For the Cybertruck, a pet project of Musk who insisted it was Tesla’s best product, it marks an unceremonious end to one of the auto industry’s most ballyhooed debuts.

“Few vehicles in history have generated as much attention,” said Armen Hareyan, whose Torque News site covers autos. “The Cybertruck became a cultural symbol – loved, mocked and impossible to ignore.”

The Cybertruck rolled onto the scene in a dramatic unveiling in 2019, when a Tesla designer hurled a metal ball at the vehicle to demonstrate its supposedly unbreakable glass, only to see it shatter. He repeated the stunt on another window of the truck only to shatter that one, too.

Even as some critics scoffed, Musk was steadfast.

“I just wanted to make a futuristic battle tank — something that looks like it could come out of ‘Blade Runner’ or ‘Aliens’ or something like that but was also highly functional,” he told Automotive News. He called it “a better sports car than a Porsche 911” and “a better truck than an F-150.”

It struck some as the perfect vehicular reflection of the brash, convention-busting Musk.

“A really controversial vehicle unveiled by a controversial individual into a market where none of the electric trucks have been able to really capture demand,” said Spencer Penn, a former Tesla executive who left the company before the Cybertruck’s launch and now heads software developer LightSource.

Penn remembered watching the unveiling and feeling initially revolted by the sight of the Cybertruck, calling its appearance “madness.” But the more he looked at it, the more his opinion changed. He signed up for a pre-sale reservation, though ended up not getting a Cybertruck when Musk’s promises of a price tag under $40,000 went unmet and the first trucks sold for double or more. Penn called the Cybertruck part of Tesla’s adventurous spirit that drives innovation.

“Some of these bets work and some of these bets don’t,” he said.

While the decision to end Cybertruck production may be driven by sales realities, it's also a reflection of Tesla’s shift to autonomous vehicles, on which Musk is betting the company’s future.

Musk once forecast he’d make 250,000 Cybertrucks a year. Kelley Blue Book estimated Tesla sold just 20,237 of the vehicles last year, down about half from the year prior. Sales through the end of September this year were down another 28%, according to Kelley Blue Book.

If the imposing, sharp-angled, dystopian appearance of the Cybertruck weren’t enough to turn many potential buyers away, Musk did so himself by allying with a panoply of right-wing figures, most notably U.S. President Donald Trump. He alienated some customers as his image morphed from eccentric innovator to polarizing force trading his billions for political influence.

Once-passionate Tesla drivers rushed to sell off their cars, or slapped stickers on the bumper declaring, “I bought this before Elon went crazy.” Organizers staged demonstrations outside Tesla showrooms and urged investors to dump shares of the company’s stock. Anger spilled into violence, with Molotov cocktails hurled at Tesla vehicles, charging stations set ablaze, and dealerships covered in graffiti.

Lovers of the Cybertruck became targets, too, subjected to shouts of “Nazi!” and extended middle fingers.

Ross Blankenship is one of them. When he first laid eyes on the Cybertruck, he felt transported to a world from his childhood, when he would play “Halo,” the sci-fi video game. He had to have it.

“I had that sort of child in me wanting to be part of something cool that would change the future of automotive,” Blankenship said in a call from his Cybertruck as he drove through Sunnyside, Colorado. Even as Blankenship found he agreed with Musk on politics, he hated seeing a vehicle he loved turned into a political symbol. “I never bought it for any other reason than the fascination with the future technology of trucks … so that was a little heartbreaking.”

He would buy another Cybertruck again in a heartbeat, calling its end “a sad moment.”

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