My Provider is Verizon

Over my nearly two-decade career in medicine, there’s been an insidious but undeniable shift in the way my physician, PA, and NP colleagues are referred to by those around us. Increasingly, and without much consideration for how clinicians feel about it, the term “provider” has displaced other more deferential or precise labels.

In my last clinical shift alone, here are a few phrases I overheard from various members of my well-intentioned clinical team:

“Who is your provider?”

“You’ll have to ask your provider.”

“Your provider is running behind, but he’ll be with you shortly.”

I’m sure none of these individuals meant any harm in using the “P-word,” but it’s this exact unconscious encroachment of the label into the collective vernacular of healthcare where the issue lies.

Burnout Basics

Burnout, especially in acute care settings, is appropriately called out as the unmitigated epidemic that it is. However, clinician “burnout” is merely a syndrome resulting from the confluence of a myriad of other changes which collectively have left clinicians feeling a growing sense of powerlessness in their professional roles. Specifically, this involves changes such as growing administrative demands, diminished autonomy, and shifts towards an increasingly transactional, metric-driven model of care. These factors contribute to the hallmark symptoms of burnout: cynicism, exhaustion, and feelings of ineffectualness (12).

Unfortunately, many healthcare administrators who give lip-service to the importance of combating the burnout epidemic are the same folks who, despite our objections, continue to refer to PAs, NPs, and doctors as “providers.” If a sense of powerlessness underpins this devastating epidemic, it’s hard then to imagine a more counterproductive tactic for addressing burnout than ignoring clinicians’ appeals to stop calling them providers. 

How We Ended Up Here

While the modern use of “provider” in the U.S. can be traced back to the verbiage from the 1960’s Social Security Act, which led to the creation of Medicare and Medicaid, its first appearance as a term of diminishment and disempowerment is more ignoble. In the late 1930’s, as the Third Reich came to power in Germany, Jewish physicians were increasingly stripped of recognition for their training and expertise. Their medical licenses were finally revoked in 1938, and they were forbidden from using the title “physician.” Instead, they were forced to adopt the term “behandler,” which can be translated to “caregiver” or “provider.” (1,2). While the reasons for pushing an unwanted title on physicians are undeniably different in these two historical contexts, it’s important for those concerned about trends in burnout to be aware of the pernicious consequences of dictating which terms are used to label clinicians.

While the American use of “provider” had its roots in the second half of the twentieth century, its use has grown most significantly in the last few decades. The NPI (National Provider Identifier) system took effect in 2005 as a provision of HIPAA, effectively codifying the administrative use of “provider” as an inclusive term for NPs, PAs, and doctors. As healthcare systems, pharmacies, and payors have since relied universally on this identifier (and by extension this term for clinicians), it shouldn’t be surprising that the prevalence of the term’s usage has steadily increased (3). Ironically, this has come during an era of unprecedented attention to the importance of adopting inclusive language practices–a movement of undoubted value. Personally, I’ve had the dizzying experience of sitting through a hospital orientation session where a Human Resources professional espoused their organization’s progressive identity-affirming language policies. I then watched that same HR staff member, without any apparent awareness of the overwhelming cognitive dissonance, explain the other aspects of the hospital’s code of conduct repeatedly using the word “providers” as she spoke to a room full of PAs and doctors.

The Ironic Timing of the "Provider" Epidemic

This painful irony from the widespread inattention to clinicians’ preferences is compounded by the juxtaposition of the emphasis on precise language elsewhere in medicine. Precision in language is clearly a clinical necessity. Just read a surgical operative note for a Whipple procedure or total hip arthroplasty. From the size of the incision, to the types of instruments used, to the blood loss estimated down to the milliliter, physicians’ attention to precise language is evident. If administrators were inattentive to language elsewhere, then it would be somehow more excusable. However, it is a rare clinician who cannot cite a recent communication from a coder asking for more clarification on the length of a laceration repaired or a more elaborate medical decision-making note to justify billing for more complexity. Payor contracts are long and full of fine print. So, why is it in this area as it relates to the core agents in healthcare delivery, that inattention and cavalier attitudes about nomenclature abound?

A common rebuttal to concerns raised about clinician sensitivity about the use of the word “provider” centers around implications of conceitedness or entitlement. Objections to being called provider among my fellow clinicians, however, are rarely ego driven. Instead, we take umbrage most with the implication that we are mere vehicles of transaction. Outside of medicine, a provider is an entity who is paid a fee in exchange for a specific service. For example, my cellular provider is Verizon. I pay a monthly fee, and they give me exactly what I pay for.  That’s the arrangement. There’s even a contract to that effect. They have no care or concern about me as a person, and I don’t expect any. It is purely transactional. By labeling those responsible for the compassionate and ethical treatment of people when they are at their most vulnerable as “providers”, it should be evident why it would seem reductionist and condescending to imply clinicians are simply widgets deployed to enact transactions at the point-of-care.

I'm not alone...

If reading about this as a potential concern is surprising, I should clarify that I am far from a voice crying in the wilderness (although it often feels that way). As early as 2001, other doctors have published similar editorials presenting everything from reasoned arguments to formal pleas that the label “provider” be discarded (4,5).  Moreover, these opinion pieces do not merely represent the isolated perspectives of a few disgruntled physicians. Multiple leading medical professional organizations including the American Medical Association (AMA), American Academy of Family Practice (AAFP), American College of Physicians (ACP), American Academy of Emergency Medicine (AAEM), and the American College of Physicians (ACP) have publicly released position statements (some dating back to as early as the 1990’s) formally denouncing the use of the term “provider” (6-9). To further underscore the unanimity of clinician organizations on this issue, it is noteworthy that the largest national PA and NP organizations have also released statements expressing similar sentiments (10, 11).

So where does this leave us today? For many, this may be the first time you have become aware that the word “provider” is considered so problematic, and that’s understandable. We affect those around us in countless ways we are unaware of every day. But ultimately, language matters. I’ve noticed, while paying more attention to this issue, that “provider” is not in the vocabulary of any of the doctors who I’ve looked up to as mentors. I’ve realized that largely what I admire about these physician-leaders is the recognition and respect they have for the responsibilities they have as de facto role models. Unfortunately, it is telling, given the continued expansion of the use of the word “provider,” the lack of influence clinical leaders have relative to their administrative counterparts. I’ve even found doctors, including myself, slipping up when outnumbered in boardroom settings–and more sadly–continuing to parrot the term “provider” even after such meetings have ended.

A Simple (Even if not Easy) Solution

Reversing this trend will not be easy but ignoring it is a less attractive option. If we are to slow the ever-advancing trend of clinician demoralization, I believe it is necessary that those in leadership roles fully embrace a transition towards the use of inclusive language for clinicians in the same manner as is now normative in other domains of society. Whether you’re in a leadership role or not, it is undeniable that the words we use to refer to others belies a consideration (or lack thereof) for their experience.

Changing habitual behaviors doesn’t happen accidentally though–it takes effort. Therefore, it is up to everyone individually to decide how much this issue matters to them. For those who care enough to try, even if you suffer a slip of the tongue from time to time, your intentions and efforts will be recognized and appreciated, I promise. For those who don’t, do not be surprised if the clinicians you rely on to be the kind, dependable, diligent, and conscientious faces of your institution seem less than fully devoted to the advancement of your organizational objectives.

References

1. Dark origins of "provider": an ethical dilemma in healthcare. LinkedIn. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/dark-origins-provider-ethical-dilemma-healthcare-medrank/

2. I am not a provider. Diabetes J. 2021;39(2):140. doi:10.2337/cd20-0107

3. Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. Medicare provider/supplier enrollment. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://www.cms.gov/medicare/provider-enrollment-and-certification/medicareprovidersupenroll/downloads/enrollmentsheet_wwwwh.pdf

4. Rosenberg C. On being a doctor: I am not a "provider." Am Fam Physician. 2001;63(12):2340. https://www.aafp.org/pubs/afp/issues/2001/0615/p2340.html

5. Levin JM, Bernat JL. "Provider"—a term to be avoided. J Med Humanit. 2022;43(1):159-164. doi:10.1007/s10912-021-09725-z

6. American Medical Association. H-160.915 use of the term "provider." AMA PolicyFinder. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://policysearch.ama-assn.org/policyfinder/detail/term%2provider?uri=%2FAMADoc%2FHOD.xml-0-3588.xml

7. American Academy of Family Physicians. Preferred use of the term physician. AAFP Policies. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://www.aafp.org/about/policies/all/provider.html

8. Defining our identity does not include the P-word. ACP IMpact. September 2019. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://immattersacp.org/archives/2019/09/defining-our-identity-does-not-include-the-p-word.htm

9. American Academy of Emergency Medicine. Position statement: use of the term "provider." AAEM. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://www.aaem.org/resources/statements/position/term-provider

10. American Association of Nurse Practitioners. Use of terms such as "mid-level provider" and "physician extender." AANP Position Statements. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://www.aanp.org/advocacy/advocacy-resource/position-statements/use-of-terms-such-as-mid-level-provider-and-physician-extender

11. American Academy of Physician Associates. How to talk about PAs. December 2018. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://www.aapa.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/How_to_Talk_about_PAs_FINAL_December_2018.pdf

12. American Medical Association. Measuring and addressing physician burnout. AMA. Accessed November 24, 2025. https://www.ama-assn.org/practice-management/physician-health/measuring-and-addressing-physician-burnout

© Josh Russell, MD, FACEP – November 24, 2025