By MICHAEL MILLENSON

It was a small anecdote, buried in a lengthy profile in The New Yorker of Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick, “Donald Trump’s Tariff Dealmaker-in-Chief.” But as a patient safety activist, the stark depiction of the effect of medical error felt like a sudden shock.

Lutnick, the article related, knew tragedy early in life: “his mother died of lymphoma while he was in high school; in his first week of [Haverford] college, his father was accidentally administered a fatal dose of chemotherapy. Other relatives receded into the background, leaving Lutnick and his two siblings on their own.”

A medical error and, suddenly, three kids are abruptly orphaned and effectively abandoned. With World Patient Safety Day just past us on Sept. 17, I wanted to put that devastating event into the broader patient safety context.

As is frequently the case, The New York Times obituary of Sept. 15, 1979, for Solomon Lutnick gave no cause of death. There were a handful of personal and professional details (he was a history professor at Queens College) and that he died at age 51 at Syosset (Long Island) Hospital.

Invisible Harm

Unfortunately, treatment-caused harm has often been invisible, even where it occurred. The year before Solomon Lutnick died, the first study to examine adverse events at multiple hospitals concluded that given the benefits of modern medicine, the incidence was “remarkably low.” The 1978 study, commissioned by California hospital and medical associations worried about rising malpractice premiums, was overseen by physician-attorney Don Harper Mills, who assured the worried sponsors there were few “potentially compensable events.”

There’s no indication Solomon Lutnick’s death prompted a lawsuit; he was being treated for metastatic colon cancer when a nurse accidentally administered 100 times the recommended chemotherapy dose, according to accounts Howard Lutnick has shared elsewhere. It’s unclear how Syosset Hospital reacted, but the Mills study, reflecting the attitude of many at the time, didn’t count deaths of individuals who the research team assessed would have died anyway within a year.

Even with that methodology, when in my 1997 book I extrapolated Mills’ results nationally, his “remarkably low” incidence of harm amounted to 120,000 people killed each year by medical care. I wonder whether anyone told the three Lutnick children, “Your dad was going to die soon, anyway,” and whether they found that any sort of comfort.

In 2025, addressing patient harm was long ago supposed to have become part of hospital culture, but invisibility nonetheless continues. The Office of the Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human Services Hospitals has repeatedly found that millions of Medicare patients every year are harmed by their medical care. Yet hospitals still fail to capture even half of harm events, while also failing to report two-thirds of events for which reporting is required, according to the most recent OIG report. Worse, few incidents of harm are even investigated “and even fewer led to hospitals making improvements for patient safety,” the OIG concluded.

Echoing Another Error

But it wasn’t only the way Solomon Lutnick’s avoidable death would have been minimized during that era that struck me. It also stood out for its eerie echo of a later death that became a patient safety milestone. On Dec. 3, 1994, an obituary in the Boston Globe for its personal health columnist, Betsy Lehman, related that the 39-year-old married mother of two young daughters had died at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute due to complications of breast cancer. However, it wasn’t until after a routine record review by Dana-Farber clerks found the error, which was relayed to her family and then to her Globe colleagues, that a page one story appeared on March 23, 1995, detailing how an accidental overdose of a powerful chemotherapy drug had actually caused Lehman’s death.