The Center for Public Integrity

UDDANAM, India — A tangle of green blankets the land amid thick tropical heat. Shady groves of cashew trees strew the ground with juicy, perfume-scented fruits. Men can be seen climbing coconut palms to tap into the trunks for wine. The region’s name, Uddanam, comes from a word in Sanskrit that means “Beautiful Garden” or “Paradise.”

Uddanam’s rich terrain seems an unlikely place for the mysterious strain of illness tormenting the area. For more than a decade, a rash of chronic kidney disease has been striking down the villagers of this remote agricultural belt in the state of Andhra Pradesh, India. In some villages, the disease has impacted from 24 to 37 percent of the population, two to three times higher than elsewhere in the district, according to unpublished results from a study by Harvard Medical School.

As the death toll mounts, the seemingly idyllic region has become stigmatized. In contrast to Nicaragua’s “Island of the Widows,” which is named for the alarming rate of chronic kidney deaths among the community’s husbands, residents of Uddanam say they now have trouble getting married at all.

“Other people, they don’t want to come for marriage,” said Dr. Priya Prathibha, the state medical officer in the hard-hit village of Varaka. “They are not giving any bride or bridegroom to this area, this Uddanam area.”

Electronic medical records, long touted by government officials as a critical tool for cutting health care costs, appear to be prompting some doctors and hospitals to bill higher fees to Medicare for treating seniors.

The federal government’s campaign to wire up medicine started under President George W. Bush. But the initiative hit warp drive with a February 2009 decision by Congress and the Obama administration to spend as much as $30 billion in economic stimulus money to help doctors and hospitals buy the equipment needed to convert medical record-keeping from paper files.

In the rush to get the program off the ground, though, federal officials failed to impose strict controls over billing software, despite warnings from several prominent medical fraud authorities. Now that decision could come back to haunt policy makers and taxpayers alike, a Center for Public Integrity investigation has found.

Experts say digital medical records may prove — as promised — to be cost-effective, allowing smoother information sharing that helps cut down on wasteful spending and medical errors.

Yet Medicare regulators also acknowledge they are struggling to rein in a surge of aggressive — and potentially expensive — billing by doctors and hospitals that they have linked, at least anecdotally, to the rapid proliferation of the billing software and electronic medical records. A variety of federal reports and whistleblower suits reflect these concerns.

Regulators may lack the auditing tools to verify the legitimacy of millions of medical bills spit out by computerized records programs, which can create exquisitely detailed patient files with just a few mouse clicks.

“This is a new era for investigators,” said Jennifer Trussell, who directs the investigations unit of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Office of Inspector General.

KEBITHIGOLLEWA, Sri Lanka — For two decades, chronic kidney disease has been a mystery and death sentence in Sri Lanka, striking 15 percent of the residents of its north central region.

This summer, after years of secretive official research, a glimmer of scientific hope emerged. The government and World Health Organization announced in June that they identified a key cause of the disease in Sri Lanka: chronic exposure to arsenic and cadmium, likely consumed in food.

Yet in a disease that has confounded experts across continents, even potential breakthroughs come with asterisks. The new report left huge questions unanswered — including where in the country the toxins were found, how they entered the food and what foods were contaminated. The key unsolved question: the extent fertilizers and pesticides contributed to the outbreak.

In Sri Lanka’s lush northern farmlands, the mystery and the death sentences continue. Lacking firm answers from the scientific community, some victims’ best hope for survival comes through the spiritual community — and offers of kidney transplants from Buddhist monks and those they inspire to make extraordinary sacrifices for strangers.

At 21, Sampath Kumarasinghe is among the victims awaiting that miracle.

The soft-spoken farmer was diagnosed last September with kidney damage so severe it had reached its terminal phase: end stage renal disease. Healthy his entire life, he suddenly became feverish and too sick to work in the rice paddies. His mother mortgaged their land to pay for his medical care, and they began the search for a kidney donor. One day, like a vision, a man appeared in his hospital offering to donate his kidney.

“I am only thinking of ways to save my son’s life,” said Sampath’s mother, Punchirilalage Dingiri Manike. “That is what I think of day and night.”

SANDAMALGAMA, Sri Lanka — In this tiny Sri Lankan village, rice farmer Wimal Rajaratna sits cross-legged on a wooden bed, peering out toward lush palm trees that surround his home. Listless and weak, the 46-year old father of two anxiously awaits word on whether his body can accept a kidney donation that offers his only chance of survival.

In Uddanam, India, a reed-thin farmer named Laxmi Narayna prepares for the grueling two-day journey he takes twice every week. For most of his 46 years, his job involved shimmying up palm trees to harvest coconuts at the top. He now spends most of his time negotiating the more than 100-mile bus trips he takes to receive the dialysis treatments that keep him alive.

Ten thousand miles away, in the Nicaraguan community of La Isla, Maudiel Martinez dreads returning to the rolling sugarcane fields where he spent most of his teenage years at work with a machete. Blood tests by the sugar company that employed him found that his kidneys were seriously damaged — and exertion beneath the tropical sun could tip the 20-year-old’s health into a lethal spiral.

In three countries on opposite ends of the world, these men face the same deadly mystery: their kidneys are failing, and no one knows why.

A mysterious form of chronic kidney disease — CKD — is afflicting thousands of people in rural, agricultural communities in Sri Lanka, India and Central America. The struggle to identify its causes is baffling researchers across multiple continents and posing a lethal puzzle worthy of Sherlock Holmes.

The three epidemics have crucial threads in common. The victims are relatively young and mostly farm workers, and few suffer from diabetes and high blood pressure, the usual risk factors for renal disease. They experience a rare form of kidney damage, known as tubulo-interstitial disease, consistent with severe dehydration and toxic poisoning.