Tampa Bay Times: ‘Pregnancy centers’ draw scrutiny as lawmakers seek to elevate their status

By Justine Griffin

Rose Llauget, director of pregnancy and adoption services with Catholic Charities Diocese of St. Petersburg, Inc., replaces a doll representing the early stages of pregnancyat at her office in Tampa. Llauget oversees five Tampa Bay area centers that offer pregnancy tests, ultrasounds, adoption services and general counseling for women who find themselves in an unwanted or unscheduled pregnancy. [CHRIS URSO | Times]

Annie Filkowski used to see the signs during her drive to school each morning. “Free pregnancy tests,” they said.

So when she feared she might be pregnant at 16, shortly after starting to have sex with her boyfriend, she remembered them. And walked into a center in Fort Myers.

Keisha Walters, saw the signs too, outside an old Tampa home on Armenia Avenue that had been converted into an office. Walters, 32, was pregnant for the first time and had lost her job. She felt alone, far away from her family in the Caribbean islands of Saint Kitts.

“I didn’t even know what to ask for, or what I needed,” she said.

Both women had found their way to one of the 105 publicly subsidized “pregnancy support centers” in Florida, part of a network of mostly faith-based organizations that provide emotional support and limited medical services for unplanned pregnancies — while also working to prevent abortions.

But their experiences could not have been more different. Filkowski said she left feeling pressured and duped, while Walters found a welcoming source of help that she continues to rely on today.

The contrast goes to the heart of a simmering debate as Florida lawmakers prepare to make a key decision on the future of the centers: Should the state continue to fund them every year as part of the budget process, or give them a more exalted position by enshrining them in state law as a permanent program overseen by the Department of Health?

Welcome to the latest battleground in a long-running war over state government’s role in the abortion issue.

Many Floridians know of the centers from the now-familiar billboards that have lined the state’s rural highways for years, urging women to find options other than abortion, reminding them that a heartbeat begins just days into a pregnancy.

The centers are part of the Florida Pregnancy Care Network, which has received more than $21 million in state funding since 2007, according to the Florida Department of Health, including $4 million in the current fiscal year. With services that range from testing for sexually transmitted diseases to parental counseling, they are largely unregulated and can vary significantly depending on the location. Some employ nurse practitioners or physicians. Others rely on church volunteers to take ultrasound images, provide medical information with sometimes questionable accuracy and deliver a clear anti-abortion message.

Companion bills in the House and Senate that would make the centers a permanent fixture have drawn heavy criticism from groups like the National Organization for Women and Planned Parenthood.

“The funding for this network umbrella has steadily increased over the years to the tune of millions,” said Laura Goodhue, executive director of the Florida Alliance of Planned Parenthood Affiliates, whose members receive no state funding. “Women should have all the medically accurate information they’re seeking, without bias and without shaming. The women who have been to some of these pregnancy centers have felt this way and are later harassed for their decisions.”

Read more here.

Tampa Bay Times: Patients face delays, bureaucratic headaches after marijuana clinics close

By Justine Griffin

The remaining Tetra Health Care center is located at 2814 W Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd. in Tampa. Similar to a walk-in urgent care center, Tetra Health Care is a place where patients can see a licensed doctor about obtaining medical marijuana as a form of treatment. [Photo by ALESSANDRA DA PRA | Times]

Thousands of patients who received medical marijuana access from physicians at a half-dozen recently closed clinics in Tampa Bay may be forced to find another doctor soon, which is no easy task due to state restrictions.

Tetra Health Care, a California-based chain that hires licensed doctors to write medical marijuana recommendations at six clinics in Florida, shut down all but one of them last month to focus on working with state lawmakers to make access easier for patients, a company spokeswoman said. But a former doctor with the chain said Tetra ran into financial trouble and stopped paying its physicians and staff in October.

Those in the industry say Tetra’s downsizing is just one sign of many growing pains doctors and companies will face as Florida heads into its second year offering medical marijuana products to registered residents.

“When they stopped paying us is when I left,” said Dr. Kelly King, who worked for Tetra Health Care since the company began opening clinics in Tampa Bay last summer. She said Tetra was still using the passwords of departed physicians to access the state registry that tracks which patients were assigned to them.

“I noticed after I left, they were still putting new patients into my registry,” she said. “People I had never seen or treated before.”

King, who said she treated hundreds of patients during her time with Tetra, also said the company grew too big too fast. Tetra Health Care had one clinic in Sacramento, Calif., before expanding into Florida.

“They never really opened a lot of offices at one time before,” King said.

Tetra had five locations in the Tampa Bay area: two in Tampa and one each in St. Petersburg, Clearwater and Brandon. A sixth was in the Orlando area. Patients are being directed to one remaining center in Tampa, at 2814 W Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., for appointments and doctor recommendations.

“The roadblocks from the state and delays in patient access have resulted in higher operational costs than originally projected for the industry statewide, including for Tetra Health Care. Tetra expects to make full restitution shortly,” said Tanya Cielo, a spokeswoman for Tetra.

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Tampa Bay Times: A day at the movies, inspired by real-life and a good friend

By Justine Griffin

*The Christmas Day 1A centerpiece story*

Collin Barnes, Reid Carlisle, Aidan Griffin, Cedric Buckley, Matthew Morgan, and Tyler Burkhart came to see the movie "Wonder" with Connor Carlisle. [Photo courtesy of Kerry Carlisle]

Connor Carlisle wanted to design an invitation, something special, and he asked Sarah Reed for help.

Reed is one of Connor’s teachers at St. Petersburg High School, and her hospitality and tourism class is his favorite. He dreams of designing roller coasters.

So they worked on a flier, and he passed them out to everyone he knew at school. He wanted them to go to a movie with him, to see Wonder.

The blockbuster film, released widely Thanksgiving weekend and starring Julia Roberts and Owen Wilson, is based on Connor’s favorite book. The young adult novel by Raquel Jaramillo — written under the pen name of R.J. Palacio — chronicles the story of a fifth-grade boy living with a condition similar to Treacher Collins syndrome, which required many surgeries. Because of his disfigurement, the main character, August, is bullied in school. The story shares what it’s like to be different, and how he’s often stared at for something he cannot control.

Connor, who is 16, says he has read the book many times. Like August, he has had many surgeries. Thirty-six, in fact.

Connor was born with a cloverleaf skull, which made his eyes bulge and his ears reach near the back of his head. His skull was more cone-shaped than round. Ultimately, it didn’t leave much room for his brain to grow.

“I had a very normal pregnancy. We had no idea until he was born,” said Connor’s mother, Kerry Carlisle, who is a nurse in the Pinellas County school system. “Back in 2001, the outlook was not very good.”

Connor also was diagnosed with the genetic disorder Crouzon syndrome and Arnold-Chiari malformation, which means he was born without a fully developed spinal cord, nor its protective covering. He lives with a tracheostomy tube in his throat, which makes his voice raspy and low. He sleeps on a ventilator, and his parents take turns being “on call” in case he needs help in the middle of the night. His long-term prognosis isn’t so clear.

His family lived in New York City for nearly 12 weeks straight when he was a few years old, as he underwent several craniofacial surgeries to reshape the bones in his skull. Family photos show a happy, young Connor on the carousel in Central Park, even as equipment halos his face.

“We always made the most out of it, vacation-wise,” said Connor’s father, Reid Carlisle.

Connor’s favorite memory was visiting the Toys “R” Us in Times Square. And he enjoyed playing with his big brother, Reid Jr., who has been Connor’s best friend and advocate all his life, while they watched subway cars zip in and out of Grand Central Station.

“I remember really liking the trains,” Connor said.

Connor’s health continues to be struggle. He fights pneumonia, tracheitis or respiratory infections nearly every year, which almost always land him in the intensive care unit. He was hospitalized twice in August. He hates that he can’t swim underwater because of the tube in his throat.

But he tries to do all he can.

Connor is a huge Star Wars fan. He went to Megacon for the first time this year. He’s been in Boy Scouts most of his life, and loves to camp with his dad and brother. His parents bring the ventilator, with extension cords, on camping trips. Last summer, he attended Camp Able in Marco Island all by himself. No aides. No parents. Just him.

He loves riding the Cheetah Hunt at Busch Gardens, but the Incredible Hulk coaster at Universal’s Islands of Adventure has been his favorite since he was cleared by his doctors to ride coasters in 2015.

“Connor is definitely not the type who likes to sit around,” said Tyler Burkhart, an 18-year-old Northeast High student who has known Connor pretty much all his life. “He’s always looking for something new to do.”

Read more here. 

Tampa Bay Times: Exploring the incredible color, cuisine, culture of India

By Justine Griffin for Latitudes, the travel section of the Tampa Bay Times

Tampa Bay Times reporter, Justine Griffin, and her husband, Alex Mahadevan visited the Taj Mahal in Agra, India, on their honeymoon in May 2017. The ivory marble mausoleum on the south bank of the Yamuna river was named a New7Wonders of the World (2000-2007 edition). [Photos by Alex Mahadevan]

DELHI

As I slid my shoes off and handed the man a five-rupee note before entering the Jama Masjid mosque, I could feel the heat from the red stone against my heels. I could also feel the intense stares of the Delhi locals. I don’t know which made me sweat more.

As a tall, blond-haired white woman dressed in Western clothes, I couldn’t have stood out more at this ornate and historic place of worship for Muslims in the heart of Old Delhi. My husband and I were still jet lagged from our 4 a.m. arrival in New Delhi, India’s capital, a city with a population of more than 11 million. But we were too excited about our honeymoon adventure to waste any time.

My husband, Alex, is half Indian. His father is from Chennai, a coastal city in south India. While Alex had visited India many times while growing up, he was still itching to see more as an adult. So we booked a 15-day trip.

Alex’s mother, also a blond-haired white woman, warned me about the stares. I remember shrugging it off. India was bound to be a trip of a lifetime. But now that I was here, I couldn’t shake this creeping, uncomfortable feeling as eyes followed me.

Thin women dressed in colorful sarees, some with babies tucked under their arms, washed their hands, feet and faces at a central pool out in front of the mosque. Their eyes seared into mine when we passed by.

A young boy followed me through the mosque. His friends would jab him in the ribs and laugh every time our eyes locked. Just before we made it to the exit, he tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to his smartphone. He wanted to take a selfie with me.

There was never a point in our remarkable trip to India that I felt unsafe. Nearly everyone we met, be it in a shop, at a restaurant or on a dirt street in a rural village, was kind and friendly. People were drawn to Alex — one man wanted to shake his hand and thank him for returning to India to explore his heritage.

I got used to the stares.

Read more here.

Tampa Bay Times: Between surgeries at Tampa General, a place to recharge

By Justine Griffin

The Starbucks inside Tampa General Hospital is open every day. [Photo by ALESSANDRA DA PRA | Times]

DAVIS ISLAND — The wheeze of an espresso machine dulls the Christmas music playing on the overhead speakers, but the customers waiting in line aren’t listening anyway.

A nurse in a surgical cap with green and red snowflakes is on her phone, shouldering through the line with two coffee cups in her hands. “I talked to Dad, he’s bringing the turkey,” she says.

Another nurse, dressed in plain, blue scrubs, is balancing a tray of four steaming coffees and talking to a co-worker in Mandarin. Three young doctors join the end of the line, still wearing blue booties over their Nikes and face masks tugged down around their necks. “He’s bleeding from the ear, and they don’t know if they should send him to the E.R. or to the clinic,” one explains to the others.

The mid-morning rush at the Starbucks inside Tampa General Hospital is dying down just after 10:30 a.m. on the Thursday before Christmas. The scheduled morning surgeries are well under way by now.

Starbucks isn’t the only place that serves coffee on the sprawling campus, but it is a popular attraction, tucked into the maze of the first floor of the main hospital.

The coffee shop looks and smells like any other in the chain. The signature green emblem hangs in the window.

But hospital staff and visitors stream in and out from 6 a.m. to midnight. Surgical technicians eat from lunch boxes at the wooden tabletops. Families gather on the plush, leather chairs in the corner and look over patient paperwork. On Facebook, customers express thanks for “good coffee” while they wait for news or fuel long shifts.

It’s business as usual even just before Christmas.

The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire) is interrupted briefly by a call over the speakers: “Code purple, NICU.” A few people in line check their phones, then put them away.

The scrubs come in a rainbow of colors: Turquoise. Maroon. Navy blue. Dark green. Light green. Some surgical caps have Gators or Seminoles on them. Some have candy canes.

Some visitors wear blinking Christmas lights and festive sweaters. Others look tired. They wear sweatpants, flip flops and their hair in messy buns.

A thin, balding man wearing scrubs that are so loose he’s bunched and rolled the waistband several times around his hips, gives another doctor in a white coat a warm hug as they wait in line. They discuss a patient who had a heart attack. “Tiny, tiny arteries and tiny, tiny crystals,” he describes with a thick accent. “Nothing major. She will be okay.”

They both smile.

The hospital can’t shut down for the holidays. The baristas won’t, either.

They’re open every day. Even on Christmas.