Guest guest Posted May 2, 2001 Report Share Posted May 2, 2001 From: " ilena rose " <ilena@...> Sent: Wednesday, May 02, 2001 12:47 PM Subject: Informed Consent ... Business Week Article ~ 1995 > http://www.businessweek.com/1995/40/b34441.htm > > > Informed Consent > > The controversy surrounding silicone breast implants has plunged Dow > Corning Corp. into bankruptcy. More than 8,000 women still have lawsuits > pending against the company, which has spent $1 billion defending itself. > On Sept. 13, a federal judge ruled that suits against parent companies Dow > Chemical Co. and Corning Inc. could proceed despite the bankruptcy filing. > All this because of a product that produced less than 1% of Dow Corning's > revenues. > > E. Swanson viewed this debacle from a unique vantage. For most of 27 > years at Dow Corning, he shaped its ethics program, which was acclaimed as > a model for Corporate America. His wife, Colleen, had Dow Corning breast > implants. After years of devastating illnesses, she became convinced that > her implants were destroying her health--and that the company had failed > to inform women of the risks. In time, came to agree. He also came to > believe that his company had acted unethically through much of the crisis. > > The circumstances Swanson faced were remarkable. But his experience > is emblematic of the ethical conflicts any executive can face. What > happens when personal values clash with corporate beliefs? What happens > when a moral choice separates you from your company's official position > and from your colleagues in a close-knit organization? Here, in an > adaptation from a forthcoming book by Senior Writer A. Byrne, is the > harrowing tale of how one manager faced those questions. > > > FOUR WEEKS EARLIER, COLLEEN SWANSON HAD been out cold on an operating > table at Cleveland's Mount Sinai Medical Center. A surgeon had worked > three hours to remove the silicone breast implants that had been in her > chest for 17 years--and that Colleen was sure were the cause of health > problems that had for years eroded her life. > > Since the grueling operation, she had been bandaged from collarbone to > waist. Now, on a bright and beautiful morning in July of 1991, she would > get the first glimpse of how she looked. Her husband, , had already > left for his job at Dow Corning--the maker of the implants. > > Once, had loved his job and his life in little Midland, Mich. But for > years, he had shared Colleen's anguish, comforting her through ailments > including severe migraines, debilitating joint pain, and extreme fatigue. > And when he, like Colleen, concluded that her implants were the cause, he > supported her decision to have them removed. Still, Colleen had purposely > failed to remind him that today was the day to take off the bandages. ``I > really felt I wanted to deal with it myself,'' she recalls. > > Ever since her surgery, she had tried to imagine how she would look. A > petite woman of 55, Colleen was always impeccably turned out, her quietly > tasteful clothes reflecting her conservative Midwestern background. She > had sought the implants only to bring her small, uneven breasts closer to > average. Now she wondered: Would she despise her appearance? Would ? > ``I knew it was going to be bad,'' she says, ``because my surgeon had told > me that most of my breast tissue had been destroyed.'' > > She spent hours that morning summoning her courage. At last, she eased > herself into a warm bath and gently splashed water over the bandages in > hopes the water would penetrate the plastic tape and lessen the pain of > its removal. But the bath failed to loosen the dressing, and for a time > she gave up. > > That afternoon, she tried again. Alone in her bedroom, she lowered the > shades and lay on the bed. She began to pull at the tape, gritting her > teeth against the pain. Only when the bandages were tossed aside did she > glance down. What she saw made her cry out, then shut her eyes, not > wanting to see any more. > > She climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom, consciously avoiding > the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall, and went to the smaller mirror > over the sink. Before flicking on the light, she closed her eyes once more > and tensed. Finally, she stared at her reflection. > > Thick, red, six-inch scars curved across each side of her chest where the > creases beneath her breasts had been. Instead of breasts, there were just > ridges of folded, discolored skin--like deflated balloons that had held > air a long time. The left side of her chest, where more silicone had > apparently leaked into her body, was nearly concave. > > Colleen stared at herself for four or five minutes. She didn't recognize > the frightened and pitiful woman whose trembling body was forever > disfigured. Finally, she stepped into the shower and let the water wash > the dried blood from the wounds. She tried to calm herself and relax, but > she couldn't hold back the sobbing. ``I cried and cried and cried,'' she > recalls. ``I cried for a long time.'' > > > SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER--IN LATE DECEMBER, 1990-- Swanson had opened an > interoffice envelope marked ``For Addressee Only'' to find a shocking > memo. Two company officials, it alleged, were trying to destroy internal > reports that showed far higher complication rates for silicone breast > implants than Dow Corning had ever acknowledged. These were serious > allegations under any circumstances, but for Swanson, they had great > personal significance. The memo came from the company's medical director, > Dr. F. Dillon, who was asking the Business Conduct Committee on > which Swanson served to investigate ``a violation of corporate, > professional, and commonly accepted business ethics.'' > > Dillon's account said that Greg Thiess, a senior litigation attorney, had > approached Ann Woodbury, a research scientist, and asked her to > destroy all copies of a memo in which she had analyzed implant > complication rates. Disturbed, Woodbury had asked Dillon to join her and > Thiess, and the attorney had repeated his request. ``Greg stated to us > that he was acting at the specific request of Rylee II, > vice-president and general manager of the health-care business,'' Dillon > wrote, adding: ``He also stated that the information contained in the > memos would compromise projects that he was then working on in Dow Corning > product-liability litigation and be adverse to the company if publicly > revealed....'' > > Every night, and Colleen had been debating whether she should have > her implants removed. Both had begun to wonder if Dow Corning had failed > to inform patients of known risks. Dillon's memo was a part of the > puzzle--but it didn't reveal the complication rates Woodbury was > reporting. > > The Business Conduct Committee scheduled a Jan. 3 meeting to air the > incident. Eager to learn more, Swanson phoned Woodbury that morning. ``Can > you give me just a brushstroke idea of what it is we're talking about that > Bob Rylee is so concerned about?'' he asked. > > Woodbury said she had studied complaint data from company files and other > sources, including the government. She concluded that complaints received > by the company were probably but a portion of the actual number because > ``it's only those that get back to us through a doctor's office.'' Many > probably went unreported. Woodbury also believed the company overestimated > the number of implant recipients, which would lower the complication rate. > In the sample she studied, Woodbury had found, 30.3% of women with > implants experienced problems, and 13% had the implants replaced within > five years. > > As it turned out, the Business Conduct Committee meeting was postponed > several days. Swanson prepared the agenda, but A. Hazleton, then > general manager of the industrial products group, asked him not to attend. > Swanson suspected it was because he seemed sympathetic to Dillon. Though > taken aback, he didn't argue--perhaps because he knew he was beginning to > be conflicted about implants. > > So his knowledge of the session came from a summary prepared by other > members of the conduct committee. The document confirmed that Thiess had > been following Rylee's orders. It said: ``Bob Rylee indicated that when he > received the information...,he was very concerned that the way it was > stated was prejudicial to Dow Corning's interests and could have adverse > impact in future litigation situations. He stated he did not intend in > this case, nor does he advocate in general, suppressing either factual > information or professional conclusions or opinions.'' But Rylee wanted > documentation that made clear ``the distinctions between facts, > conclusions, or opinions of people inside and outside Dow Corning with > which Dow Corning agrees, and conclusions or opinions with which Dow > Corning does not agree.'' > > The incident, the memo added, would serve as a springboard to develop > guidelines for resolving future conflicts. Swanson was bitterly > disappointed that his colleagues had skirted the larger issue: Was the > company deliberately underestimating complication rates? > > Dillon was also unhappy. He had been urging Rylee to fund studies of basic > cancer and mortality issues, complication rates, and whether silicone > could cause immune diseases. Now he doubted that would ever happen. > > Four months later, the doctor quit. Before he left, Swanson questioned him > about implants. Dillon couldn't say for sure if silicone posed a risk, he > told Swanson; the research wasn't complete. But he surmised that some > women probably couldn't tolerate silicone--and there was no screen to > identify them. > > ``Good luck,'' Dillon said. ``Dow Corning is going to need a person like > you.'' Swanson supposed it was a compliment. But he wondered just what he > could do. > > > IF DOW CORNING WAS AWASH IN LEGAL PARANOIA, it was small wonder. Since > 1963, when it introduced breast implants, there had been mounting > complaints that the devices ruptured far more frequently than expected, > that even intact implants leaked silicone, and that silicone caused myriad > illnesses. In 1984, Dow Corning had lost its first major implant lawsuit; > the jury, persuaded that the company had concealed problems, had found it > guilty of fraud. > > In 1989, after someone leaked an internal study showing ``an increased > incidence of fibrosarcomas at the implant site,'' Washington-based Public > Citizen's Health Research Group had sued the Food & Drug Administration to > release the results of all safety studies on silicone gel that Dow Corning > had given it. In response, shortly before Dillon sent his memo, a U.S. > district court judge had ordered the FDA to release the results of two > decades' worth of company studies. Moreover, the judge had chastised Dow > Corning for invoking secrecy orders it had won in earlier court battles to > prevent him from hearing expert testimony on the studies. > > The press had begun reporting that silicone leaking from implants might > cause auto-immune-system diseases such as lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. > And Congress was about to hold hearings on implant safety. > > > OVER THE COURSE OF HIS DOW CORNING CAREER, Swanson had become, in a > sense, the conscience of the corporation. > > A lean, fair man who looks as though he were made to sit behind a desk in > a prudent Brothers suit, Swanson joined the company in 1966, at 30, > as advertising supervisor and soon became manager of industrial marketing. > His break came when a speech he wrote impressed C. Goggin, then > chairman and CEO. Goggin began to have Swanson write his speeches and to > seek Swanson's advice on issues such as launching a campaign to end the > confusion between Dow Corning and its parents, Dow Chemical and Corning. > > After Goggin retired in 1975, his successor, Jack S. Ludington, also came > to rely on Swanson. Dow Corning was now deriving 45% of its nearly $300 > million in revenues overseas, and one issue that concerned Ludington was > whether the company adhered to the same values in far-flung outposts as in > Midland. > > Public confidence in U.S. corporations had been hurt by revelations of > companies bribing foreign officials and making illegal political > contributions. Dow Corning hadn't been involved, but it had a growing > business in developing countries where kickbacks and bribes were common. > In 1976, Ludington asked Swanson and three other managers to form a > Business Conduct Committee to draft guidelines for ethical conduct, > develop a process for monitoring business practices, and recommend ways to > correct questionable activities. > > Few would consider corporate ethics riveting, and in 1976, Swanson was not > among them. He considered himself more pragmatic than idealistic. He had > never embraced religion. But he prided himself on his integrity, a value > he felt he shared with his father, a conservative Republican who owned a > grocery store in Minneapolis. > > As Swanson began traveling to discuss ethics with often skeptical > colleagues, he became intrigued by his task. Could a corporation reconcile > the conflict between the quest for profit and socially responsible > behavior? His assignment became a challenge: How do you convert ethics > from simple pieties to part of the ethos of a global organization? > > Swanson led the development of a code of ethics entitled A Matter of > Integrity. The code detailed the responsibilities of the corporation and > its employees and outlined proper relations with customers and suppliers. > In bold type, the introduction asserted: ``We will act with the idea that > everything we do will eventually see the light of day.'' > > But what distinguished the ethics program was its active and visible > Business Conduct Committee, of which Swanson was the sole permanent > member. The committee, staffed by top executives in rotating assignments, > conducted face-to-face meetings with executives around the world that > explored such sensitive topics as pricing and kickbacks. The sessions > helped make ethics central to Dow Corning's culture. > > What Swanson had seen as an assignment to dish out management's > flavor-of-the-month became a long-term commitment. He now viewed the > program as noble and informed, and with Ludington's support, he emerged as > its leading proponent. > > In 1984, researchers from Harvard business school undertook what became a > series of laudatory studies of the program, and Swanson became a > nationally recognized expert on business ethics. `` Swanson was much > more genuine than most corporate ethics officers,'' says Nash of > Boston University's Institute for the Study of Economic Culture. `` > had a comprehensive view that this was about a way of thinking.'' By 1990, > Swanson, now senior consultant for communications and business conduct, > was devoting nearly half his time to ethics--updating the code, making > presentations to employees, and organizing and writing conduct reviews. > All along, he strove to build a moral consensus that could guide employees > to do the right thing. > > > JOHN AND COLLEEN MET IN MID-1973, THREE years after the end of his first > marriage. Colleen, 34, feisty and vivacious, was also divorced and, like > , she had two children. Within four months, the couple wed. > > At about the same time, a Dow Corning chemist, Silas A. Braley, moved into > 's department. For years, Braley had helped doctors develop medical > applications for silicone. Now, he was to tour the country, armed with a > case full of artificial joints, ears, chins, and breast implants, > promoting the use of silicone body parts. Swanson had known Dow Corning > made breast implants, but working with Braley made him far more aware of > this small, curious part of the business. > > A month or so after the Swansons married, they accompanied Braley and his > wife to Detroit, where Braley was to do a radio show. During the drive, > there was plenty of conversation about breast implants. Colleen asked many > questions. For every one, she says, Braley had a reassuring answer. He > told Colleen that if she wanted implants, he could arrange for a surgeon > who was among the best at the procedure to do the operation. Subsequently, > she read a Dow Corning brochure that reassured women, among other things, > that implants could be expected to ``last for a natural lifetime.'' > > Says Colleen: ``I had been advised by the one person who represented the > best state-of-the-art knowledge of medical uses of silicone in the world. > He knew the most competent plastic surgeons for this procedure in the U.S. > Dow Corning had originated the silicone implants and was a highly > reputable organization....ased on Si's reputation and Dow Corning's, I > felt very confident that silicone implants were safe.'' > > So, in March, 1974, the Swansons packed Colleen's Chevrolet Impala > convertible and headed for Florida. In the trunk were suitcases full of > summer clothes for , Colleen, and her two kids. Another suitcase held > a box containing a pair of vacuum-sealed, sterile silicone breast > implants. They were to be given to Dr. L. Baker Jr., the surgeon > chosen by Braley, to replace the pair he would stitch into Colleen. The > family would go to Disney World. Along the way, Colleen would visit Dr. > Baker, who had agreed to operate for $100 if the Swansons brought the > replacement implants. Most surgeons were charging between $1,000 and > $3,000. > > The day before the surgery, the Swansons visited Dr. Baker. He took > Colleen's medical history, outlined the procedure, and examined her > breasts for tumors or cysts. She then signed a form confirming she had > been informed of potential difficulties. The operation had been done for > several years, it said, but ``the end results are not and cannot be > determined for a number of years to come.'' It also said that ``in a small > percentage of cases,'' implants might not be tolerated and would have to > be removed. But Baker assured her of the operation's high success rate, > Colleen says, and she experienced no doubts. Colleen had surgery the next > morning. Four days later, she had a final checkup. ``Patient has had > beautiful results,'' Baker noted. The family headed home. > > The Swansons were still newlyweds and very much in love. Many nights, they > shared candlelit dinners by the fireplace. Each weekend, they'd drive to a > new Michigan locale, where Swanson would golf with colleagues while > Colleen and the other wives shopped, until they all met in the evening for > dinner. > > Then, soon after her surgery, Colleen began suffering dreadful migraines. > A brain scan revealed no cause, and the pain would vanish for days, but it > always returned. Her doctor began injecting painkillers, and an oxygen > tank was placed by her bed because anxiety would cause her to > hyperventilate. > > Beginning two years later, she was beset by one ailment after another. She > developed lower back pain so severe she had to quit her job as a dental > assistant. Then came numbness in her arms and hands. Periodically, rashes > would render her chest as red and shiny as a severe sunburn. She also > developed adhesive capsulitis, which caused pain and stiffness in her left > shoulder. > > Colleen consulted numerous specialists and underwent countless tests, but > no one could explain what was wrong. And still her ailments multiplied. > She became so fatigued she would go to bed right after dinner. Then, her > breasts became rock hard, and she felt a constant burning in her chest. In > time, pain began to sear through her left arm and down into her ring and > index fingers. Then it enveloped her hips and neck. At one point, her > weight, normally 105 pounds, fell to 89. The perky and attractive woman > had married seemed to be dying. (continued in next file) > > BY JOHN A. BYRNE > > > > > > > Updated June 13, 1997 by bwwebmaster > Copyright 1995, by The McGraw-Hill Companies Inc. All rights reserved. > Terms of Use > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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