As a family doctor, I’m trained to see the big picture, to look at how all the pieces of a person’s health fit together. My osteopathic practice centers on lifestyle medicine, which focuses on six evidence-based pillars: nutrition, exercise, sleep, substance minimization, stress management, and social connections.

What I’ve noticed over the past year is how often plastic appears in each of these pillars. It’s in the water bottles patients carry. It’s in the packaging around the medications I prescribe. It’s in the exam gloves I wear, the specimen containers on my counter, the tubing connected to blood pressure cuffs. When I look around my exam room after a morning of appointments, I see plastic waste in every corner, and most of it was used for less than five minutes.

My patients are taking notice, too. They are starting to think about BPA in their water bottles, sometimes about whether their takeout containers are safe, about what’s leaching into their food. Given that 84% of Americans are concerned about plastic pollution (Oceana), these questions shouldn’t surprise me, but I wasn’t prepared for how they connect to nearly every health conversation I have.

Here’s what I want patients to know about where plastic intersects with the lifestyle factors that shape their health:

Nutrition

The biggest concern is phthalates, the chemicals that make plastic flexible. They’re in food packaging, beverage containers, and plastic wrap. Research shows phthalate exposure from food contact materials is linked to approximately 90,000 deaths in the U.S. annually, with higher burdens on Hispanic and African American communities (Health Care Without Harm). The effect is worse when hot food or beverages contact plastic containers compared to room temperature items.

These plastic-related chemicals affect children’s brain development and are connected to inflammation, obesity, diabetes, immune system issues, and asthma. These are the very chronic conditions I’m treating every day.

Exercise

When chronic inflammation, obesity, or diabetes limit someone’s ability to move comfortably, it affects everything. I also think about the plastic in athletic equipment, such as swim goggles, yoga mats, water bottles used during workouts, and wonder about repeated exposure over time.

Sleep

Poor sleep compounds every health problem. I see patients with obstructive sleep apnea who need CPAP machines to regulate their breathing each night through plastic masks and tubing. It’s medically necessary, yet worth researching what exposure means over months and years.

Substance Use

Plastic itself may be a harmful substance worth minimizing. There’s emerging research suggesting microplastics might affect how certain medications work in our bodies, potentially reducing the effectiveness of some antibiotics (Nature). Cigarette filters contain microplastics, adding another risk to smoking. 

Stress Management

Information itself can be a source of stress. Learning that microplastics are in placentas, blood, and everyday products creates anxiety, especially when patients feel they can’t control their exposure. I see this in my practice: people overwhelmed by conflicting health information, unsure what changes actually matter. The sheer volume of “things to worry about” becomes its own burden, and microplastics is now on that list.

Social Connections

One unexpected place this topic shows up: in conversations between patients. When one person mentions switching to a reusable water bottle or asking their grocery store about plastic packaging, others take notice. 

These conversations create a sense of shared concern and collective problem-solving. It’s similar to how we approached tobacco reduction: not by asking individuals to solve a systemic problem alone, but by normalizing conversations about change. When people talk openly about what they’re trying, it becomes less overwhelming and more manageable.

The scale of the microplastics problem can feel overwhelming. But knowledge creates opportunity. As physicians, we made smart choices about infection control in the 1960s with the information we had. Now we’re learning more about what those choices cost us in ways we couldn’t have predicted.

I don’t expect to solve this alone, and I can’t eliminate plastic from my practice tomorrow. But I can pay attention. I can ask what’s necessary versus convenient. I can have these conversations with patients who are already asking the questions.

That feels like a reasonable place to start.

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Sources

• Health Care Without Harm. Plastics FAQs. https://global.noharm.org/focus/plastics/faqs
• Nature. (2024). Microplastics and drug efficacy. https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-024-75785-4
• Oceana. 8 in 10 American Voters Support a National Policy Reducing Single-Use Plastic. https://usa.oceana.org/8-in-10-american-voters-support-a-national-policy-reducing-single-use-plastic/
• The National Institutes of Health. (2024). Microplastics in cigarette filters. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12155882/
• The Washington Post. (2026). Microplastics science discoveries. https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/2026/01/04/microplastics-science-discoveries/

There are physicians practicing today who trained when reusable glass syringes were still common. Medicine went plastic in just one generation, roughly 60 years, and the shift happened at scale in the 1960s, when single-use plastic-based devices made it possible to eliminate most dangerous cross-contamination between patients and make hospitals safer for workers (NS Medical Devices, 2021).

This was a genuine revolution, and it saved lives. We made this choice for infection control, and it worked.

The AIDS crisis in the 1980s and early 1990s further accelerated adoption of single-use plastics, driven by deep concerns about disease spread (National Geographic, 2021). When healthcare workers saw colleagues contract HIV, when patients like Kimberly Ann Bergalis died in 1991 after infection at a dentist, the response was reasonable: protect everyone with barriers that could be safely discarded. Doctors wore goggles, masks, head covers, blue plastic full body garb, and gloves when seeing AIDS patients—and for good reason (PMC, 2022).

What we didn’t know then: the plastic itself might become a patient safety issue.

Recent research reveals plastics have become ubiquitous not just in hospitals, but in our bodies. In a 2024 study of 62 human placentas, researchers found microplastics in every single sample tested, with concentrations ranging from 6.5 to 790 micrograms per gram of tissue (UNM Health Sciences, 2024). These microplastic particles have been found in all placental portions: maternal, fetal, and amniochorial membranes (Ragusa et al., 2021).

The most common polymer found is polyethylene—the plastic used to make bags and bottles—which accounted for 54% of total plastics in placental tissue (UNM Health Sciences, 2024). The same materials we chose for hygiene and safety are now present before birth.

The health implications are becoming clearer. 

A 2021 study in Environmental Pollution examining over 5,000 American adults found that phthalate exposure—chemicals used to make plastics more flexible—was associated with approximately 90,000 to 107,000 premature deaths annually, primarily from cardiovascular disease. The economic cost: $39.9 to $47.1 billion in lost productivity per year (Trasande et al., 2021).

The Scale of What We’re Looking At

An estimated 25% of hospital waste is plastic (National Geographic, 2021). Globally, around 16 billion plastic syringes and 15 billion face masks are thrown away each year (The Lancet, 2025). 

A single hysterectomy procedure can produce up to 20 pounds of waste, most of which is plastic (National Geographic, 2021). And here’s the paradox: the perception that single-use plastics are inherently safer isn’t supported by evidence; they’re typically used because they’re more convenient (Health Care Without Harm).

Taking Moments to Actively Look Around

Over the coming weeks, you’ll hear from a lifestyle medicine doctor, an interventional radiologist, a pediatric neurosurgeon who paused to observe what plastic surrounds them in their daily practice. 

In one generation, we replaced glass and metal with plastic to save lives from infection. What would a generation of innovation look like—one that protects patients from both infection and the materials we use to deliver care?

The goal isn’t to eliminate all medical plastics this year. The goal is to ask what is necessary and what can be eliminated or replaced.

Medicine prioritizes safety. The microplastics research is teaching us to ask: what kind of safety?

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This is the first post in a series examining plastic use across medical specialties. In the coming weeks, we’ll share observations from physicians in primary care, interventional radiology, and pediatric neurosurgery—showing what they found when they started looking.

Sources

1. Campen, M., et al. (2024). Microplastics in Every Human Placenta, New UNM Health Sciences Research Discovers. UNM Health Sciences Center. https://hscnews.unm.edu/news/hsc-newsroom-post-microplastics
   
2. Health Care Without Harm. Plastics FAQs. https://global.noharm.org/focus/plastics/faqs
   
3. Kelleher, D.C., Fouts-Palmer, E.B., & Ip, V. (2024). Plastic in Healthcare: Everywhere and Hidden in Plain Sight. ASRA Pain Medicine News, 49. https://asra.com/news-publications/asra-newsletter/newsletter-item/asra-news/2024/04/15/plastic-in-healthcare-everywhere-and-hidden-in-plain-sight
   
4. Lyu, L., et al. (2025). Plastics in health care: rethinking medical device innovation, use, and disposal for sustainability. The Lancet. https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(25)01099-2/abstract
   
5. National Geographic. (2021). Can Medical Care Exist Without Plastic? https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/article/can-medical-care-exist-without-plastic
   
6. NS Medical Devices. (2021). Four Reasons the Medical Devices Industry Couldn’t Live Without Plastics. https://www.nsmedicaldevices.com/analysis/plastics-in-medical-devices/
   
7. Plastic Pollution Coalition. COVID-19 Plastic Waste Statistics. https://www.plasticpollutioncoalition.org
   
8. Ragusa, A., et al. (2021). Plasticenta: First evidence of microplastics in human placenta. Environment International, 146, 106274. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0160412020322297
   
9. Reardon, C., et al. (2020). Plastics in healthcare: time for a re-evaluation. BMJ, 371. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7068768/
   
10. Trasande, L., Liu, B., & Bao, W. (2021). Phthalates and attributable mortality: A population-based longitudinal cohort study and cost analysis. Environmental Pollution, 292, 118021. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/34654571/
    
11. Zhu, X., et al. (2022). Fighting a Plague: Doctors’ Stories of Challenge and Innovation Combatting the AIDS Epidemic in 1980s New York City. PMC. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9384273/
    

In the Beginning…

I’m Reed Omary—a physician, scientist, educator, and now, planetary health entrepreneur.

For more than 25 years, I’ve worked in academic medicine. I led a department of over 700 people, chaired a medical group with more than 2,000 clinicians, and co-led a strategic plan for a medical center with 30,000 employees.

It was deeply rewarding work. But during the pandemic, I felt something shift. Doing the same thing each day didn’t suit my ADHD-adjacent brain. I wanted to make a broader impact.

Here are my goals I landed on:

1. Thinking beyond the walls of one institution.
2. Redefining health to include people, communities, and the planet.
3. Leaving a legacy for my children and future grandchildren…long after I’m gone.

This new mindset completely re-energized me. I had found my new calling: advancing the health of people and the planet. I even thought this might help spark a new kind of PCP: the planetary care physician.

The Road (Not) Taken

After more than a decade leading Vanderbilt’s Department of Radiology, I stepped down in summer 2023 to take a sabbatical.

Sabbatical (noun): a rare privilege for lucky academics to step away, breathe, and learn something new.

In taking a sabbatical, I felt equal parts lucky and restless. Reading books on climate, health, and sustainability helped, but it wasn’t enough. As an extrovert, I missed people and the joys of human connection. I also didn’t think what was already written was enough.

So I did what scientists do: started collecting new data. Over the course of a year, I interviewed hundreds of people from all walks of life. The interviews ranged from chefs to CEOs; poets to politicians; and students to scientists.

In essence, I became a scientist-journalist devoted to climate and health. I listened, asked questions, and tried to make sense of a system that appeared senseless.

And I tracked everything. Every interview, every insight, and every pattern were logged into a growing spreadsheet. That spreadsheet, which I called “Discovery”, became the seed for what came next.

The Green Leap

By fall of 2023, it was time to share what I was learning. While I had no website or blogging experience, I launched The Green Leap, a blog about sustainable healthcare. I kicked it off with a simple statement:

“Medicine has always been in the business of healing. Let’s now start healing the planet.”

The blog became my public notebook—a place to clarify my thinking, share experiences, build community, and elevate new voices.

Some of those voices stand out:

Emma Rens, a top biomedical engineering student at Northwestern, wrote about surgical ecodesign at Lurie Children’s Hospital. She’s now a Fulbright Scholar in the Netherlands.

Alex Kinnebrew, an expert in human-centered design, wrote a post comparing climate-aware clinicians to June bugs—drawn to the light.

And then there was Liz Schumacher, CEO of Affinity Strategies and a four-time kidney transplant recipient. Her story, both personal and professional, deeply moved me. In our many conversations, Liz and I kept returning to the same point: we cannot separate environmental health from patient health.

The Spark

Those conversations made something clear. For all the talk about sustainable medicine, no one knew what patients really thought.

Liz and I were confused. After all, we are all patients. And yet, patients were being left out of climate and health conversations.

Launching Greenwell Project

So in the summer of 2024, together with Alex Kinnebrew and Jon Henderson, we launched Greenwell Project.

Greenwell’s mission is simple:

To design sustainable medicine together with patients.

We believe patients are experts in their own care.

Patients know what matters.

Patients spot what’s wasteful.
Patients notice what’s broken—and where opportunities are hiding.

Their insights, when translated by Greenwell, can unlock real value…for hospitals, suppliers, pharma, and device makers. 

Sustainability is not just about reducing harm. It’s about designing systems that work better. Doing so leads to:

• Better quality
• Better outcomes
• Stronger supply chains
• Smarter innovation
• Lower costs
• Greater efficiency

All while protecting the one planet we depend on.

Greenwell is more than a nonprofit. We are a platform to work together with stakeholders across medicine. We are a catalyst to rethink what healthcare can be. And we are a growing community for those who know healthcare can do better.

If this mission speaks to you, we hope that you’ll join us. We can build the future of sustainable medicine together.

Please reach out below to get involved.

Thanks for your time, your curiosity, and your care.

I. Eco-Warrior vs. Energy Vampire: A tale of two lives: impeccable green credentials at home, wanton energy consumption at work. Can one physician reconcile his hypocritical existence?

“Like most relationships, my relationship with the environment is complicated.”

At home I do all the things. I change all the light fixtures to LEDs, program my thermostats to the margins of comfort, replace windows, plug insulation leaks, install Energy Star appliances, turn off the lights, recycle, compost, use cloth napkins, and even drive an electric car. At home, it’s been this way for 20 years.

At work I do nothing. Lights on, computer on, equipment on, temperature at 68F, throw everything away, and no place to recycle. It was only a few years ago when I had a “light bulb moment” and asked myself why my behavior is contextual. After all, I’m the same person wherever I am.

II. The Price of Virtue: Domestic eco-frugality driven by personal cost savings. But altruism also plays a role. Why does this logic fail within the hospital’s walls? An exploration of misaligned incentives.

At first, I didn’t have an answer, but as I considered my life, I came up with a few. The easiest answer for my behavior at home was money. At home I’m paying the bills, and any household efficiency directly helps my family. However, it does not explain why I recycle or compost. The other actions at home tap into my desire for efficiency, my connection to nature, and my feelings about stewardship for my children.

So why is my behavior completely different at work? Once again, the easiest answer is about money. At work, I do not pay the bills. I’m employed by a large health system where we’ve focused on capturing market share while keeping costs down.

III. Confessions of a Medical Dumpster Diver: One physician’s unorthodox approach to resource management. From scavenging expired equipment to supplying global health missions and veterinary clinics. A commentary on medical excess and the circular economy’s untapped potential.

Most doctors’ office spaces are filled with personal items, photographs, children’s art projects, framed certificates and awards, and career mementos.

Mine is filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of expired medical equipment.

I do not know when I started “dumpster diving” in my department. When I was younger, I looked for expired devices to practice my skills. I wanted to use them in a no-stakes situation so that they became second nature to me while performing a high-stakes interventional radiology procedure in a patient.

“Some call me a hoarder.”

After our stock manager caught me with my feet hanging out of a huge plastic dumpster throwing stents over my head, she now just places “the good stuff” in my office. Today, the good stuff is used for Resident Education, Global Health Missions, and by a local Veterinary Interventional Radiologist. Looking at my office has framed how I perform surgery, engage with my partners, and work with my medical supplies manager. All these expired devices add costs to medicine and society while adding volume to our landfills.

IV. Healthcare’s Green Awakening (or Lack Thereof): The glacial pace of sustainability in medicine. A nascent movement faces institutional inertia and budgetary constraints. Can one physician’s crusade inspire systemic change and a healthier future for patients and the planet?

My experiences coupled with conversations with other physicians, friends, and family have helped to shape my engagement in medical sustainability. I now turn off the lights in my office and power down my personal workstation at the end of the day. I have also become involved in sustainable medicine at the Departmental, Institutional, Health System, and National levels.

Most medical organizations have only seriously considered their environmental impact within the past 5 years. As a result, there are many opportunities to cut costs, improve efficiency, decrease our carbon footprint, and improve the quality of healthcare.

Because we have only recently begun to climb the mountain, the summit still seems far away. I’m happy to start the climb knowing that I’m unlikely to see the long-term effects of my efforts. However, I remain hopeful that future physicians will continue to work towards a sustainable future where the world and healthcare are healthier for all.

Will you join me?

Medicine loves its jargon. And at academic medical centers, few terms are as loved as precision medicine.

What exactly is precision medicine? It’s when we apply our unique genes, lifestyle, and environment to identify a therapy that’s most likely to succeed. Originally called “personalized medicine,” it has evolved to include a host of fancy tests to predict response to treatments. When the NIH launched the All of Us Research Program in 2016, the concept truly caught fire. Today, precision medicine aims to treat every patient like a bespoke suit—offering care that is perfectly fitted to each individual.

So, why not apply this same idea to discussing climate change and planetary health? With political winds shifting like poorly tied shoelaces, it’s time we communicate differently. Enter precision communication.

Tailoring the Message

Just like a well-made suit fits better than one bought off the rack, precision communication fits the message to the listener. A passionate call to save the planet might excite environmental activists, but it won’t budge busy hospital administrators struggling with tight budgets and staff shortages.

Precision communication is rooted in human-centered design—it starts with empathy. In design, we create something for a specific user, not for everyone. Similarly, our messages in sustainability should address the unique needs of healthcare workers, whose top concerns are patient outcomes, finances, efficiency, quality, innovation, managing risk, and retaining top-notch staff.

Take a hospital administrator under constant pressure to improve patient care while cutting costs. To reach them, we must ask: how can green practices cut costs or lower risks? How will these ideas improve efficiency or quality? By speaking in practical terms, we can offer solutions that matter to them.

A Custom-Fit Approach

In today’s charged political climate, it’s easy to rely on grand ideas. Yet, grand calls to save the planet or fight for justice miss the mark for those juggling 100 different challenges.

Let’s accept an unspoken tenet of modern healthcare:

“Idealism is often traded for spreadsheets.”

Busy professionals need clear, practical benefits, not lofty ideals.

So, what does precision communication look like? It starts by asking, “What does my audience need most?” For some, this means lowering costs; for others, it could be improving patient safety or operations. When we address these issues, we shift sustainability from nice-to-have to must-have.

Consider energy-efficient hospital buildings. For a facilities manager, the benefits are clear: lower utility bills and better reliability. For clinicians, well-designed buildings can mean fewer delays and more comfort for patients. By sharing these advantages, we connect green practices to the daily needs of healthcare workers.

Sustainability: The Case for Empathy

At its heart, precision communication starts with empathy—understanding the world from another’s point of view. Just as precision medicine tailors care to each patient, precision communication fits the unique needs of the healthcare workforce. Instead of shouting big ideas, let’s speak in ways that meet people where they are.

Yes, our planet needs us all to act, and the challenges of climate change are huge. But when speaking to healthcare professionals, let’s focus on how sustainable practices can make their jobs easier, save money, and improve care.

Can we change our message from “saving the planet” to “saving time, money, and lives?”

A Call to Action

The way ahead is clear. In a world of giant political and social shifts, our communication must evolve to meet the needs of different audiences. Precision communication isn’t about watering down our message—it’s about sharpening it. By addressing the real challenges of healthcare workers, we turn sustainability from an abstract idea into a practical tool.

Let’s rise to the challenge by speaking directly to the needs of healthcare professionals. We can turn sustainable practices into key solutions for costs, risk, and quality.

And it’s not only our message; how we deliver the message is just as important. As Kim Grob, communications expert and founding partner at Right On recommends, “also consider where and how to communicate–different channels and formats work better for different audiences.”

Precision communication is not just the path forward—it’s the bridge to a greener future. Let’s build that bridge, step by step!

Carbon Footprints: A Guilt Trip in Disguise?

Footprints, by their very nature, look backward. They show us where we’ve been, not where we’re going. Add “carbon” in front, and now we’re talking about emissions—what we’ve burned, consumed, or otherwise contributed to climate change.

Some activities—say, flying across the country to discuss sustainability (mea culpa!), chowing down a 16-ounce steak, or commuting in a tank-sized truck—leave footprints the size of the Grand Canyon. Others—like cycling, choosing plant-based meals, or driving an electric vehicle—are more like tiptoeing across the planet.

For those who love numbers, an entire ecosystem of free carbon calculators awaits. (Spoiler: Your footprint is larger than you think.) And while reducing personal emissions is undeniably a good idea, let’s not get sidetracked by guilt.

The phrase “carbon footprint” wasn’t developed as a grassroots call to action. Instead, it was a masterclass in corporate deflection, brought to you by British Petroleum (BP). Back in the early 2000s, BP hired a PR firm to nudge the conversation away from their own vast emissions and onto individuals. Their message? “Look at your own footprint, not ours. We’ll just be over here drilling.”

Yes, personal action matters. But fixating on footprints alone is like a business focusing solely on cutting costs instead of growing revenue. It’s playing checkers when the real game is chess. So, what if we measured climate action not just by the harm we avoid but also by the good we do? Enter: climate handprints.

Climate Handprints: The Power of Positive Impact

Climate handprints flip the narrative. Instead of tracking the damage we leave behind, they measure the positive impact we create—and, crucially, the ripple effect of inspiring others to act. Think of them as an active offset to your carbon footprint.

Some climate handprint-friendly ideas:

• Ditch the steak, inspire a friend. Encouraging plant-based eating isn’t just good for the planet—it can be a culinary adventure. Host a plant-powered dinner party. (In the American South where I live, guests will be too polite to complain.)
• Turn commutes into community. Carpool, hop on public transport, or bike with colleagues. It’s more fun.
• Spread the word. Speak at local events about planetary health. Libraries, community centers, and retirement homes are great places to start.
• Gift with intention. I highly recommend cloth shopping bags. They are good for groceries, great for travel, and a subtle way to say, “I care about the planet.”

Handprints don’t shrink footprints—they multiply impact. As the scientific work of Dr. Nicholas Christakis has shown, we are social creatures who are influenced by our social networks. One person’s climate-friendly action can influence dozens of others, triggering a cascading effect of sustainable behavior. Imagine if we applied that logic to healthcare, business, and policy. The results could be transformative.

Call to Action: Less Guilt, More Influence

This year, let’s rewrite the script. Instead of obsessing over individual footprints, let’s create handprints that inspire systemic change. After all, solving climate change isn’t a solo sport—it’s a team effort.

And if we do nothing else? Just remember: BP wants us to feel bad about our footprints. The planet wants us to do something about it.