Several years ago, I lost a lot of respect for the American Board of Internal Medicine (ABIM). My disillusionment was heralded by a screeching metal cart loaded with patient records that rolled through my office door. Our practice manager parked the behemoth beside my desk with a flippant "Good luck!" as a reminder that my MOC (maintenance of certification) activity was due. That evening and for many more, I sat alone verifying, for example, that my patients with atrial fibrillation were receiving appropriate anticoagulation.
My 10-year recertification in cardiology was also due soon. My daughters were finishing middle and high school at the time. The ABIM soon morphed from an educational opportunity into a jealous gargoyle. It sat crouched on my shoulder during both graduations, the shopping for prom dresses, and the campus tours.
In 2015, Kurt Eichenwald, a senior writer at Newsweek whose wife is a physician, published a scathing opinion piece on the ABIM and American Board of Medical Specialties (ABMS). He wrote that physicians were being tasked with increasingly more expensive and time-consuming MOC activities despite a lack of evidence that these improved patient outcomes. He interpreted the increasing requirements as efforts by the ABIM to fend off bankruptcy, noting that despite losses of $40 million from 2008 to 2013, they continued to pay out $125.7 million in salaries—accusations
