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AIDS - How San Francisco
Misspends The Money
...Squandering The Lion's Share
By Wayne Turner
San Francisco Chronicle (6-3-1)
7-3-1

An epidemiologist with San Francisco's Department of Public Health sent shock waves through the various AIDS and medical communities last year when he told reporters that San Francisco faced HIV infection rates "comparable to sub-Saharan Africa."
 
Although the latest report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) suggests that San Francisco infection rates may now be lower than the national average, such grim forecasts have been cited to push for increases in the city's annual federal AIDS subsidies of approximately $50 million.
 
San Francisco has long been considered the model for other cities struggling to cope with this deadly disease. So when local leaders like Rep. Nancy Pelosi, D-San Francisco, invoke similar scenarios when pushing for more money, who is to argue?
 
But there are legitimate questions about whether San Francisco needs all that money and whether San Francisco organizations that receive federal AIDS funding have their priorities straight.
 
Consider:
 
AIDS Health Project, which received $977,701 in federal grants in 2000, features HIV bowling nights, a daytime cruise of San Francisco Bay and "interactive workshops" that cover "flirting and cruising . . . holding, kissing, licking, sucking, f-."
 
Positive Force, which receives $1 million a year from the CDC, threw a "Poz Prom" in April, inviting participants to "dress in your most glamorous attire, from leather to feathers." The group also offers flirting classes and in July will host a workshop on how to have anal intercourse if you suffer from diarrhea.
 
HIV Stops With Me (www.hivstopswithme.org), a CDC-funded San Francisco- based Web site, features shots of muscle-torsoed male models, profiles of project spokespersons and a commentary by Mike Shriver, Mayor Brown's "Special Adviser on AIDS and HIV Policy." But the site, which receives $1 million in CDC money channeled through the San Francisco Department of Health, carries no information on safe sex, latex condoms, water-based lubricants or needle sharing. "It's a disservice when you think that there are people who can't even afford basic medical care and they're wasting money on frivolous programs, " said Roland Foster, a staff member of the House Government Reform Committee in Washington, D.C.
 
Foster could have been referring to the tens of thousands of HIV/AIDS patients outside of San Francisco and California who don't enjoy the same access to potentially life-saving medication under the AIDS Drug Assistance Program (ADAP), financed mostly by the federally funded $1.7 billion Ryan White CARE Act.
 
States receiving smaller federal allocations, or which provide little local money, like Alabama, South Carolina and West Virginia, have waiting lists for ADAP. Those patients, such as the 400 people on the ADAP waiting list in Alabama, are left to fend for themselves, at the mercy of complicated "compassionate-use" programs established by private pharmaceutical companies.
 
Other states offer a much more limited range of drugs covered under ADAP. Often excluded are the costly, high-powered antibiotics for treating opportunistic infections like cryptosporidium, an intestinal parasite deadly to HIV/AIDS patients.
 
San Francisco, meanwhile, continues to reap the lion's share of AIDS funding, keeping AIDS patients well supplied with the latest drugs, not to mention boat cruises and flirting classes.
 
To be fair, this is largely because San Francisco was, in the early years, ground zero of the AIDS epidemic in America. But that is no longer the case. According to the CDC, poor African Americans - outside of affluent areas like San Francisco - now account for half of new infections. The "explosive" increase in HIV infections the CDC announced last week refers primarily to gay and bisexual African Americans -- but not in San Francisco, where reports show that annual infection rates among gay black men are substantially lower. As the Wall Street Journal pointed out, higher rates among African Americans 'result in part from enduring socioeconomic disparities like lack of access to medical care.'
 
But federal funding does not respond easily to such changes. For the past decade, money from the Ryan White CARE Act has been distributed according to a complicated formula that counts the total number of AIDS patients within a jurisdiction - living or dead - rather than the current number of living HIV clients. As a result, San Francisco, which experienced a devastating death toll early in the epidemic, receives twice the amount per patient ($5,980) than do other cities whose actual caseload is now comparable to San Francisco's. For example, Chicago receives $3,123 per patient, while the heavily African American District of Columbia receives just $2,869 per patient,
 
according to a 2000 report from the General Accounting Office.
 
"The U.S. taxpayer has been funding health care services for dead people," said a GAO official who testified at a House Subcommittee on Health and Environment hearing on reauthorizing the Ryan White CARE Act.
 
AIDS officials outside of San Francisco are becoming equally critical of the way funds are distributed. "We can't understand the principle that says a person living with AIDS in one jurisdiction should receive X, while a person living with AIDS in another should receive Y," Charles Henry, director of the Office of AIDS Programs and Policy for the Los Angeles County Department of Health Services, told a gay community newspaper last year.
 
"We here in L.A. have long supported a more progressive approach to [distributing Ryan White dollars], which endangers San Francisco's inordinate share of Title 1 (Ryan White CARE) funds," Henry added. Perhaps aware of the pressure, San Francisco AIDS organizations are also spending an inordinate amount of money on lobbying - for more money. According to the San Francisco AIDS Foundation's tax forms for 1999, the nonprofit organization, whose annual budget is listed at more than $18 million, spent nearly $1.7 million in lobbying campaigns. (It also paid its executive director, Pat Christen, $214, 390 in 1999, according to the foundation's Web site.)
 
Much of the AIDS Foundation's "public policy and advocacy" funding went to lobby groups in Washington, D.C., such as the CAEAR Coalition (Cities Advocating Emergency AIDS Response). CAEAR, in turn, hired a consulting firm called the Sheridan Group to work the corridors of Washington. Such lobbying campaigns have paid off for San Francisco: Last year, the city received $36 million in Ryan White CARE Act funds, and an estimated $10 million from the CDC for HIV prevention. Of course, questions could and should be raised about how other cities are handling federal AIDS funds. There have been reported instances of abuses - including outright fraud - in North Carolina, Florida, Texas, Puerto Rico and Indiana. San Francisco appears to be free of such egregious activities. But how much of San Francisco's money is reaching those who need it most - and the quality of services provided - are also questions of concern.
 
For example, there are currently more than 3,400 men, women, and children living with HIV/AIDS on the city's official waiting list for housing assistance. Many others face a bewildering array of paperwork, waiting lists and "client managers" before they receive an actual Ryan White funded service.
 
Critics point to the case of Tony Leone as an example of how overlapping, overfunded, bureaucracy-heavy AIDS organizations in San Francisco have sometimes hurt rather than helped those they are supposed to serve.
 
Unable to get a 95-cent adult diaper from San Francisco General Hospital, Leone, an AIDS patient who suffered from chronic diarrhea, traveled home from his appointment on a bus, alone, soaked in his own excrement. Leone had four different Ryan White funds-paid client managers, all of whom, he said, seemed unable to help him with the most basic of home needs like shopping, laundry and washing dirty dishes. According the Bay Area Reporter, one case management organization, Project Open Hand, insisted that Leone fill out forms to be 'recertified' as a client. Another cared only that the rent on Leone's apartment got paid on time. A third, according to Leone's own testimony at an HIV Health Services Planning Council hearing in 1999, 'spent 40 minutes out of the hour she spent with me telling me how she met her lover and what it takes to maintain a successful lesbian love relationship.'
 
"Another case manager sat with her nose out my window looking at the mess of dirty laundry, saying, 'I wish there was something I could do,' " he said. A few months after his testimony, Leone died. ___
 
Wayne Turner is co-founder of the Washington D.C. branch of ACT-UP). ©2001 San Francisco Chronicle June 3, 2001 Page C-3


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