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Emergency Physicians Decry Surprise Air-Ambulance Bills

Kaiser Health News:States - March 27, 2024

Emergency room doctors say insurers are increasingly declining to cover costly air-ambulance rides for critically ill patients, claiming they aren’t medically necessary. And the National Association of EMS Physicians says the No Surprises Act, enacted in 2022, is partly to blame.

The law protects patients from many out-of-network medical bills by requiring insurers and providers to haggle over fair payment. But insurers can sidestep the law if they determine care is “not medically necessary” — and insurers themselves get to decide what that means.

In the fall of 2022, Sara England of Salinas, Calif., learned about this firsthand when ER doctors at a hospital in her town had her 3-month-old, Amari, transferred by air to the University of California at San Francisco Medical Center for what turned out to be an RSV infection. Her insurer, Cigna, determined the baby’s plane ride wasn’t necessary because his medical records didn’t show a ground ambulance would “impede timely and appropriate medical care.”

(Ground ambulances are exempt from the No Surprises Act.)

England is on the hook for the full cost of the air-ambulance ride: more than $97,000. “I thought there must have been a mistake,” England said. “There’s no way we can pay this. Is this a real thing?”

Cigna spokesperson Justine Sessions called the bill “egregious” and said, “We are working diligently to try to resolve this for the family.”

The emergency physician association said it frequently encounters denials like England’s. The group wrote to Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra, acting labor secretary Julie Su and Treasury Secretary Janet L. Yellen in February urging the federal government to require insurers to presume medical necessity for air-ambulance use, subject to retrospective review.

“Clinical determinations made by a referring physician (or another qualified medical professional) should not be second-guessed by a plan,” read the letter from José Cabañas, the group’s president. The Association of Critical Care Transport has made a similar request.

HHS spokesperson Sara Lonardo said the agency is committed to strengthening protections in the No Surprises Act.

Insurers point the finger at air-ambulance providers. Robert Traynham, a spokesperson for industry group AHIP, said providers often don’t submit medical records, impeding a full evaluation. He said AHIP also suspects that air-ambulance companies sometimes favor more distant hospitals that contract with them over closer facilities.

The air-ambulance industry — much of it controlled by private equity firms — is known for fast-growing prices, limited in-network contracting and surprise out-of-network bills averaging nearly $20,000. And the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services data shows that when insurers and providers go head-to-head in No Surprises arbitration, 8 in 10 cases are settled in the provider’s favor, incentivizing them to raise prices higher.

Lack of medical necessity is cited in the bulk of air-ambulance claims denials, said Loren Adler, who studies the industry for the Brookings Institution.

More than a year later, England is still fighting her bill. “I don’t know what else to do other than to be a squeaky wheel and make as much noise about it as possible, because it’s not right,” she said.

This article is not available for syndication due to republishing restrictions. If you have questions about the availability of this or other content for republication, please contact NewsWeb@kff.org.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Biden-Harris Administration Builds on the Success of the Affordable Care Act by Streamlining Enrollment in Medicaid and CHIP Coverage

HHS Gov News - March 27, 2024
Final rule will make it easier for millions to enroll and keep their health coverage.

Programas de inteligencia artificial diagnostican retinopatía diabética en minutos

Christian Espinoza, director de operaciones de una red de clínicas de tratamiento del sur de California, comenzó recientemente a emplear un nuevo asistente poderoso: un algoritmo de inteligencia artificial (IA) que puede realizar exámenes de la vista con imágenes tomadas por una cámara retinal.

Realiza diagnósticos rápidos, sin la presencia de un médico.

Sus clínicas, Tarzana Treatment Centers, son de las primeras en adoptar un sistema de IA que promete expandir drásticamente la detección de retinopatía diabética, la principal causa de ceguera entre adultos en edad laboral y una amenaza para muchos de los cerca de 38 millones de estadounidenses con diabetes.

“Ha sido una bendición para nosotros”, dijo Espinoza, citando los beneficios de un examen rápido y fácil que puede realizarse con poco entrenamiento y que brinda resultados inmediatos.

Y a sus pacientes también les gusta. Joseph Smith, quien tiene diabetes tipo 2, recordó la engorrosa tarea de tomar el autobús hasta el oftalmólogo, dilatar sus pupilas, y luego esperar una semana por los resultados. “Era horrible”, dijo. “Ahora, toma solo unos minutos”.

En medio de todo el revuelo en torno a la inteligencia artificial en la atención médica, la tecnología de exámenes de la vista está surgiendo como uno de los primeros casos de uso probados de diagnósticos basados en IA en un entorno clínico.

Si bien la Administración de Drogas y Alimentos (FDA) ha aprobado cientos de dispositivos médicos basados en la IA, la adopción ha sido lenta mientras los proveedores navegan por el proceso regulatorio, la cobertura del seguro, los obstáculos técnicos, las preocupaciones sobre la equidad y los desafíos de integrarlos en los sistemas de proveedores.

Los exámenes de la vista muestran que la capacidad de la IA para proporcionar resultados inmediatos, así como el ahorro de costos y la conveniencia de no necesitar hacer una cita adicional, pueden tener grandes beneficios tanto para los pacientes como para los proveedores.

De unos 700 exámenes de la vista realizados durante el último año en las clínicas de Espinoza, casi una cuarta parte detectaron retinopatía, y los pacientes fueron remitidos a un especialista para recibir atención adicional.

La retinopatía diabética se produce cuando el alto nivel de azúcar en la sangre daña los vasos sanguíneos en la retina. Si bien el control de la diabetes de un paciente a menudo puede prevenir esta afección, y existen tratamientos para etapas más avanzadas, los médicos dicen que las evaluaciones regulares son cruciales para detectar los síntomas temprano.

Las tres compañías con exámenes de la vista con IA aprobados por la FDA para retinopatía diabética —Digital Diagnostics, con sede en Coralville, Iowa; Eyenuk, de Woodland Hills, California; y la empresa de software israelí AEYE Health— han vendido sistemas a cientos de consultorios en todo el país.

Unas pocas docenas de compañías han realizado investigaciones en este campo específico, y algunas han obtenido autorización regulatoria en otros países, incluyendo gigantes tecnológicos como Google.

Digital Diagnostics, antes Idx, recibió la aprobación de la FDA para su sistema en 2018, después de décadas de investigación y un ensayo clínico que involucró a 900 pacientes diagnosticados con diabetes. Fue el primer sistema de IA totalmente autónomo en cualquier campo médico, lo que hizo que su aprobación fuera “un momento histórico en la historia de la medicina”, dijo Aaron Lee, especialista en retina y profesor asociado de la Universidad de Washington.

Al sistema, utilizado por Tarzana Treatment Centers, puede operarlo alguien con un diploma de escuela secundaria y unas horas de entrenamiento, y solo lleva unos minutos generar un diagnóstico, sin dilatación de los ojos la mayoría de las veces, dijo John Bertrand, CEO de Digital Diagnostics. Se puede instalar en cualquier habitación poco iluminada, y los pacientes apoyan su barbilla en un soporte, y miran fijo a la cámara mientras un técnico toma imágenes de cada ojo.

La Asociación Americana de Diabetes (ADA) recomienda que las personas con diabetes tipo 2 se hagan exámenes de la vista cada uno o dos años; sin embargo, solo alrededor del 60% de las personas con diabetes se los realizan cada año, dijo Robert Gabbay, director científico y médico de la ADA.

Las tasas pueden ser tan bajas como el 35% para los menores de 21 años con diabetes. En grandes áreas del país, la escasez de optometristas y oftalmólogos puede dificultar la programación de citas, por las que a veces hay que esperar meses. Además, las barreras de viajar a una cita adicional para dilatar los ojos —lo que significa tomar tiempo libre del trabajo o la escuela, y tener transporte— pueden ser particularmente difíciles para pacientes de bajos ingresos, quienes también tienen un mayor riesgo de diabetes tipo 2.

“El 90% de nuestros pacientes son trabajadores manuales y de fábricas”, dijo Espinoza sobre sus clínicas del sur de California, que atienden principalmente a poblaciones minoritarias. “Si no trabajan, no comen”.

Un posible inconveniente de no tener un médico que realice el examen es que el algoritmo solo busca retinopatía diabética, por lo que podría pasar por alto otras enfermedades de cuidado, como el melanoma coroideo, dijo Lee. También los algoritmos generalmente “pecan de precavidos” y mandan demasiado a los pacientes a ver a especialistas.

Pero esta tecnología ha mostrado un gran beneficio: es tres veces más probable que el paciente haga un seguimiento después de un resultado positivo con el sistema de IA, según un estudio reciente realizado por Universidad de Stanford.

Eso se debe a la “proximidad del mensaje”, dijo David Myung, profesor asociado de Oftalmología en el Instituto de Ojos Byers en Stanford. Cuando el resultado se entrega de inmediato, en lugar de en semanas o incluso meses, es mucho más probable que el paciente tome acciones.

Myung lanzó el programa de teleoftalmología automatizado de Stanford en 2020, enfocándose originalmente en telemedicina y luego cambiando a IA en sus clínicas del área de la Bahía.

Ese mismo año, el National Committee for Quality Assurance amplió su estándar  de detección de retinopatía diabética para incluir los sistemas de IA. Myung dijo que llevó alrededor de un año filtrar los sistemas de ciberseguridad y TI del sistema de salud de Stanford para integrar la nueva tecnología.

También se aprendió a tomar fotos de calidad que la IA pueda descifrar, dijo Myung. “Incluso alcanzando nuestro ritmo, siempre hay algo que mejorar”, agregó.

La prueba de IA ha sido reforzada por un código de reembolso de los Centros de Servicios de Medicare y Medicaid (CMS), que puede ser difícil y llevar mucho tiempo obtener para dispositivos innovadores. Pero los proveedores de atención médica necesitan esa aprobación gubernamental para obtener reembolsos.

En 2021, los CMS establecieron la tasa de pago nacional para exámenes de retinopatía diabética con IA en $45.36: bastante por debajo de la tasa promedio  negociada de manera privada, que es de $127.81, según un estudio reciente del New England Journal of Medicine sobre IA.

Cada empresa tiene un modelo de negocio ligeramente diferente, pero en general cobran a los proveedores tarifas de suscripción o licencia por su software. Las compañías no quisieron compartir cuánto cobran por el programa.

Las cámaras pueden costar hasta $20,000 y se compran por separado o se alquilan como parte de la suscripción del software.

El mayor cumplimiento de las recomendaciones, junto con las referencias a especialistas, hace que valga la pena, dijo Lindsie Buchholz, líder de informática clínica de Nebraska Medicine, que a mediados de diciembre comenzó a usar el sistema de Eyenuk. “De alguna manera, ayuda a que la cámara se pague por sí sola”, dijo.

Hoy en día, el sistema de Digital Diagnostics se encuentra en alrededor de 600 sitios en todo el país, según la compañía. AEYE Health dijo que a su examen de la vista lo utilizan cientos de proveedores en el país. Eyenuk se negó a compartir detalles sobre su alcance.

La tecnología continúa avanzando, con estudios clínicos para cámaras adicionales —incluyendo un dispositivo portátil que puede examinar a los pacientes fuera de las clínicas— y diagnosticar otras enfermedades oculares, como el glaucoma.

Estas innovaciones ponen a la oftalmología, junto con la radiología, la cardiología y la dermatología, como especialidades en las que la innovación en IA está ocurriendo rápidamente.

“En un futuro cercano va a haber cámaras que se pueden usar en la medicina de calle, y van a ayudar a mucha gente”, dijo Espinoza.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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The Burden of Getting Medical Care Can Exhaust Older Patients

Susanne Gilliam, 67, was walking down her driveway to get the mail in January when she slipped and fell on a patch of black ice.

Pain shot through her left knee and ankle. After summoning her husband on her phone, with difficulty she made it back to the house.

And then began the run-around that so many people face when they interact with America’s uncoordinated health care system.

Gilliam’s orthopedic surgeon, who managed previous difficulties with her left knee, saw her that afternoon but told her “I don’t do ankles.”

He referred her to an ankle specialist who ordered a new set of X-rays and an MRI. For convenience’s sake, Gilliam asked to get the scans at a hospital near her home in Sudbury, Massachusetts. But the hospital didn’t have the doctor’s order when she called for an appointment. It came through only after several more calls.

Coordinating the care she needs to recover, including physical therapy, became a part-time job for Gilliam. (Therapists work on only one body part per session, so she has needed separate visits for her knee and for her ankle several times a week.)

“The burden of arranging everything I need — it’s huge,” Gilliam told me. “It leaves you with such a sense of mental and physical exhaustion.”

The toll the American health care system extracts is, in some respects, the price of extraordinary progress in medicine. But it’s also evidence of the poor fit between older adults’ capacities and the health care system’s demands.

“The good news is we know so much more and can do so much more for people with various conditions,” said Thomas H. Lee, chief medical officer at Press Ganey, a consulting firm that tracks patients’ experiences with health care. “The bad news is the system has gotten overwhelmingly complex.”

That complexity is compounded by the proliferation of guidelines for separate medical conditions, financial incentives that reward more medical care, and specialization among clinicians, said Ishani Ganguli, an associate professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School.

“It’s not uncommon for older patients to have three or more heart specialists who schedule regular appointments and tests,” she said. If someone has multiple medical problems — say, heart disease, diabetes, and glaucoma — interactions with the health care system multiply.

Ganguli is the author of a new study showing that Medicare patients spend about three weeks a year having medical tests, visiting doctors, undergoing treatments or medical procedures, seeking care in emergency rooms, or spending time in the hospital or rehabilitation facilities. (The data is from 2019, before the covid pandemic disrupted care patterns. If any services were received, that counted as a day of health care contact.)

That study found that slightly more than 1 in 10 seniors, including those recovering from or managing serious illnesses, spent a much larger portion of their lives getting care — at least 50 days a year.

“Some of this may be very beneficial and valuable for people, and some of it may be less essential,” Ganguli said. “We don’t talk enough about what we’re asking older adults to do and whether that’s realistic.”

Victor Montori, a professor of medicine at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, has for many years raised an alarm about the “treatment burden” that patients experience. In addition to time spent receiving health care, this burden includes arranging appointments, finding transportation to medical visits, getting and taking medications, communicating with insurance companies, paying medical bills, monitoring health at home, and following recommendations such as dietary changes.

Four years ago — in a paper titled “Is My Patient Overwhelmed?” — Montori and several colleagues found that 40% of patients with chronic conditions such as asthma, diabetes, and neurological disorders “considered their treatment burden unsustainable.”

When this happens, people stop following medical advice and report having a poorer quality of life, the researchers found. Especially vulnerable are older adults with multiple medical conditions and low levels of education who are economically insecure and socially isolated.

Older patients’ difficulties are compounded by medical practices’ increased use of digital phone systems and electronic patient portals — both frustrating for many seniors to navigate — and the time pressures afflicting physicians. “It’s harder and harder for patients to gain access to clinicians who can problem-solve with them and answer questions,” Montori said.

Meanwhile, clinicians rarely ask patients about their capacity to perform the work they’re being asked to do. “We often have little sense of the complexity of our patients’ lives and even less insight into how the treatments we provide (to reach goal-directed guidelines) fit within the web of our patients’ daily experiences,” several physicians wrote in a 2022 paper on reducing treatment burden.

Consider what Jean Hartnett, 53, of Omaha, Nebraska, and her eight siblings went through after their 88-year-old mother had a stroke in February 2021 while shopping at Walmart.

At the time, the older woman was looking after Hartnett’s father, who had kidney disease and needed help with daily activities such as showering and going to the bathroom.

During the year after the stroke, both of Hartnett’s parents — fiercely independent farmers who lived in Hubbard, Nebraska — suffered setbacks, and medical crises became common. When a physician changed her mom’s or dad’s plan of care, new medications, supplies, and medical equipment had to be procured, and new rounds of occupational, physical, and speech therapy arranged.

Neither parent could be left alone if the other needed medical attention.

“It wasn’t unusual for me to be bringing one parent home from the hospital or doctor’s visit and passing the ambulance or a family member on the highway taking the other one in,” Hartnett explained. “An incredible amount of coordination needed to happen.”

Hartnett moved in with her parents during the last six weeks of her father’s life, after doctors decided he was too weak to undertake dialysis. He passed away in March 2022. Her mother died months later in July.

So, what can older adults and family caregivers do to ease the burdens of health care?

To start, be candid with your doctor if you think a treatment plan isn’t feasible and explain why you feel that way, said Elizabeth Rogers, an assistant professor of internal medicine at the University of Minnesota Medical School. 

“Be sure to discuss your health priorities and trade-offs: what you might gain and what you might lose by forgoing certain tests or treatments,” she said. Ask which interventions are most important in terms of keeping you healthy, and which might be expendable.

Doctors can adjust your treatment plan, discontinue medications that aren’t yielding significant benefits, and arrange virtual visits if you can manage the technological requirements. (Many older adults can’t.)

Ask if a social worker or a patient navigator can help you arrange multiple appointments and tests on the same day to minimize the burden of going to and from medical centers. These professionals can also help you connect with community resources, such as transportation services, that might be of help. (Most medical centers have staff of this kind, but physician practices do not.)

If you don’t understand how to do what your doctor wants you to do, ask questions: What will this involve on my part? How much time will this take? What kind of resources will I need to do this? And ask for written materials, such as self-management plans for asthma or diabetes, that can help you understand what’s expected.

“I would ask a clinician, ‘If I chose this treatment option, what does that mean not only for my cancer or heart disease, but also for the time I’ll spend getting care?’” said Ganguli of Harvard. “If they don’t have an answer, ask if they can come up with an estimate.”

We’re eager to hear from readers about questions you’d like answered, problems you’ve been having with your care, and advice you need in dealing with the health care system. Visit kffhealthnews.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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As AI Eye Exams Prove Their Worth, Lessons for Future Tech Emerge

Christian Espinoza, director of a Southern California drug-treatment provider, recently began employing a powerful new assistant: an artificial intelligence algorithm that can perform eye exams with pictures taken by a retinal camera. It makes quick diagnoses, without a doctor present.

His clinics, Tarzana Treatment Centers, are among the early adopters of an AI-based system that promises to dramatically expand screening for diabetic retinopathy, the leading cause of blindness among working-age adults and a threat to many of the estimated 38 million Americans with diabetes.

“It’s been a godsend for us,” said Espinoza, the organization’s director of clinic operations, citing the benefits of a quick and easy screening that can be administered with little training and delivers immediate results.

His patients like it, too. Joseph Smith, who has Type 2 diabetes, recalled the cumbersome task of taking the bus to an eye specialist, getting his eyes dilated, and then waiting a week for results. “It was horrible,” he said. “Now, it takes minutes.”

Amid all the buzz around artificial intelligence in health care, the eye-exam technology is emerging as one of the first proven use cases of AI-based diagnostics in a clinical setting. While the FDA has approved hundreds of AI medical devices, adoption has been slow as vendors navigate the regulatory process, insurance coverage, technical obstacles, equity concerns, and challenges of integrating them into provider systems.

The eye exams show that the AI’s ability to provide immediate results, as well as the cost savings and convenience of not needing to make an extra appointment, can have big benefits for both patients and providers. Of about 700 eye exams conducted during the past year at Espinoza’s clinics, nearly one-quarter detected retinopathy, and patients were referred to a specialist for further care.

Diabetic retinopathy results when high blood sugar harms blood vessels in the retina. While managing a patient’s diabetes can often prevent the disease — and there are treatments for more advanced stages — doctors say regular screenings are crucial for catching symptoms early. An estimated 9.6 million people in the U.S. have the disease.

The three companies with FDA-approved AI eye exams for diabetic retinopathy — Digital Diagnostics, based in Coralville, Iowa; Eyenuk of Woodland Hills, California; and Israeli software company AEYE Health — have sold systems to hundreds of practices nationwide. A few dozen companies have conducted research in the narrow field, and some have regulatory clearance in other countries, including tech giants like Google.

Digital Diagnostics, formerly Idx, received FDA approval for its system in 2018, following decades of research and a clinical trial involving 900 patients diagnosed with diabetes. It was the first fully autonomous AI system in any field of medicine, making its approval “a landmark moment in medical history,” said Aaron Lee, a retina specialist and an associate professor at the University of Washington.

The system, used by Tarzana Treatment Centers, can be operated by someone with a high school degree and a few hours of training, and it takes just a few minutes to produce a diagnosis, without any eye dilation most of the time, said John Bertrand, CEO of Digital Diagnostics.

The setup can be placed in any dimly lit room, and patients place their face on the chin and forehead rests and stare into the camera while a technician takes images of each eye.

The American Diabetes Association recommends that people with Type 2 diabetes get screened every one to two years, yet only about 60% of people living with diabetes get yearly eye exams, said Robert Gabbay, the ADA’s chief scientific and medical officer. The rates can be as low as 35% for people with diabetes age 21 or younger.

In swaths of the U.S., a shortage of optometrists and ophthalmologists can make appointments hard to schedule, sometimes booking for months out. Plus, the barriers of traveling to an additional appointment to get their eyes dilated — which means time off work or school and securing transportation — can be particularly tricky for low-income patients, who also have a higher risk of Type 2 diabetes.

“Ninety percent of our patients are blue-collar,” said Espinoza of his Southern California clinics, which largely serve minority populations. “They don’t eat if they don’t work.”

One potential downside of not having a doctor do the screening is that the algorithm solely looks for diabetic retinopathy, so it could miss other concerning diseases, like choroidal melanoma, Lee said. The algorithms also generally “err on the side of caution” and over-refer patients.

But the technology has shown another big benefit: Follow-up after a positive result is three times as likely with the AI system, according to a recent study by Stanford University.

That’s because of the “proximity of the message,” said David Myung, an associate professor of ophthalmology at the Byers Eye Institute at Stanford. When it’s delivered immediately, rather than weeks or even months later, it’s much more likely to be heard by the patient and acted upon.

Myung launched Stanford’s automated teleophthalmology program in 2020, originally focusing on telemedicine and then shifting to AI in its Bay Area clinics. That same year, the National Committee for Quality Assurance expanded its screening standard for diabetic retinopathy to include the AI systems.

Myung said it took about a year to sift through the Stanford health system’s cybersecurity and IT systems to integrate the new technology. There was also a learning curve, especially for taking quality photos that the AI can decipher, Myung said.

“Even with hitting our stride, there’s always something to improve,” he added.

The AI test has been bolstered by a reimbursement code from the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, which can be difficult and time-consuming to obtain for breakthrough devices. But health care providers need that government approval to get reimbursement.

In 2021, CMS set the national payment rate for AI diabetic retinopathy screenings at $45.36 — quite a bit below the median privately negotiated rate of $127.81, according to a recent New England Journal of Medicine AI study. Each company has a slightly different business model, but they generally charge providers subscription or licensing fees for their software.

The companies declined to share what they charge for their software. The cameras can cost up to $20,000 and are either purchased separately or wrapped into the software subscription as a rental.

The greater compliance with screening recommendations that the machines make possible, along with a corresponding increase in referrals to specialists, makes it worthwhile, said Lindsie Buchholz, clinical informatics lead at Nebraska Medicine, which in mid-December began using Eyenuk’s system.

“It kind of helps the camera pay for itself,” she said.

Today, Digital Diagnostics’ system is in roughly 600 sites nationwide, according to the company. AEYE Health said its eye exam is used by “low hundreds” of U.S. providers. Eyenuk declined to share specifics about its reach.

The technology continues to advance, with clinical studies for additional cameras — including a handheld imager that can screen patients in the field — and looking at other eye diseases, like glaucoma. The innovations put ophthalmology alongside radiology, cardiology, and dermatology as specialties in which AI innovation is happening fast.

“They are going to come out in the near future — cameras that you can use in street medicine — and it’s going to help a lot of people,” said Espinoza.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Some Medicaid Providers Borrow or Go Into Debt Amid ‘Unwinding’ Payment Disruptions

https://kffhealthnews.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/03/Montana-Medicaid_WithIntro-1.mp3

George said the company didn’t have enough money to pay its employees. When he called state health and public assistance officials for help, he said, they told him they were swamped processing a high load of Medicaid cases, and that his residents would have to wait their turn.

“I’ve mentioned to some of them, ‘Well what do we do if we’re not being paid for four or five months? Do we have to evict the resident?’” he asked.

Instead, the company took out bank loans at 8% interest, George said.

Montana officials finished their initial checks of who qualifies for Medicaid in January, less than a year after the federal government lifted a freeze on disenrollments during the height of the covid-19 pandemic. More than 127,200 people in Montana lost Medicaid with tens of thousands of cases still processing, according to the latest state data, from mid-February.

Providers who take Medicaid have said their state payments have been disrupted, leaving them financially struggling amid the unwinding. They’re providing care without pay, and sometimes going into debt. It’s affecting small long-term care facilities, substance use disorder clinics, and federally funded health centers that rely on Medicaid to offer treatment based on need, not what people can pay.

State health officials have defended their Medicaid redetermination process and said they have worked to address public assistance backlogs.

Financial pinches were expected as people who legitimately no longer qualify were removed from coverage. But the businesses have said an overburdened state workforce is creating a different set of problems. In some cases, it has taken months for people to reapply for Medicaid after getting dropped, or to access the coverage for the first time. Part of the problem, providers said, are long waits on hold for the state’s call center and limited in-person help.

The problem is ongoing: George said two Guardian residents were booted from Medicaid in mid-March, with the state citing a lack of information as the cause.

“I have proof we submitted the needed information weeks ago,” he said.

Providers said they’ve also experienced cases of inconsistent Medicaid payments for people who haven’t lost coverage. It can be hard to disentangle why payments suddenly stop. Patients and providers are working within the same overstretched system.

Jon Forte is the head of the Yellowstone County health department in Billings, which runs health centers that provide care regardless of patients’ ability to pay. He said that at one point some of the clinics’ routine Medicaid claims went unpaid for up to six months. Their doctors are struggling to refer patients out for specialty care as some providers scale back on clientele, he said.

“Some have honestly had to stop seeing Medicaid patients so that they can meet their needs and keep the lights on,” Forte said. “It is just adding to the access crisis we have in the state.”

Payment shortfalls especially hurt clinics that base fees on patient income.

David Mark, a doctor and the CEO of One Health, which has rural clinics dotted across eastern Montana and Wyoming, said the company anticipated making about $500,000 in profit through its budget year so far. Instead, it’s $1.5 million in the red.

In Yellowstone County, Forte said, the health department, known as RiverStone Health, is down $2.2 million from its anticipated Medicaid revenue. Forte said that while state officials have nearly caught up on RiverStone Health’s direct Medicaid payments, smaller providers are still seeing delays, which contributes to problems referring patients for care.

Jon Ebelt, a spokesperson for the Montana Department of Public Health and Human Services, said Medicaid can retroactively pay for services for people who have lost coverage but are then found eligible within 90 days. He said the state’s average redetermination processing time is 34 days, the average processing time for applications is 48 days, and, when processing times are longer, it’s often due to ongoing communication with a client.

Ebelt didn’t acknowledge broader Medicaid payment delays, but instead said a provider may be submitting claims for Medicaid enrollees who aren’t eligible. He rejected the idea that individual examples of disruptions amount to a systemic problem.

“We would caution you against using broad brush strokes to paint a picture of our overall eligibility system and processes based on a handful of anecdotal stories,” Ebelt said in an emailed response to a KFF Health News query.

Ebelt didn’t directly answer questions about continued long waits for people seeking help but instead said continued coverage depends on individual beneficiaries submitting information on time.

Federal data shows Montana’s average call center wait time is 30 minutes — putting it among states with the highest average wait times. Mike White, co-owner of Caslen Living Centers, which has six small assisted living facilities across central and southwestern Montana, said some family members allowed the company to manage residents’ Medicaid accounts to help avoid missing deadlines or paperwork. Even so, he said, the company is waiting for about $30,000 in Medicaid payments, and it’s hard to reach the state when problems arise.

When they do get through to the state’s call center, the person on the other end can’t always resolve their issue or will answer questions for only one case at a time.

“You don’t know how long it’s going to take — it could be two months, it could be six months — and there’s nobody to talk to,” White said.

Ebelt said long-term care facilities were provided information on how to prepare for the unwinding process. He said new Medicaid cases for long-term care facilities are complicated and can take time.

Stan Klaumann lives in Ennis and has power of attorney for his 94-year-old mom, who resides in one of Guardian’s assisted living homes. Klaumann said that while she never lost coverage, the state didn’t make Medicaid payments toward her long-term care for more than four months and he still doesn’t know why.

He said that since last fall the state hasn’t consistently mailed him routine paperwork he needs to fill out and return in exchange for Medicaid payments to continue. He tried the state’s call center, he said, but each time he waited on hold for more than two hours. He made four two-hour round trips to his closest office of public assistance to try to get answers.

Sometimes the workers told him that there was a state error, he said, and other times that he was missing paperwork he’d already submitted, such as where money from selling his mom’s car went.

“Each time I went, they gave me a different answer as to why my mother’s bills weren’t being paid,” Klaumann said.

Across the nation, people have reported system errors and outdated contact information that led states to drop people who qualify. At least 28 states paused procedural disenrollments to boost outreach to people who qualify, according to federal data. Montana stuck to its original time frame and has a higher procedural disenrollment rate than most other states, according to KFF.

Stephen Ferguson, executive director of Crosswinds Recovery in Missoula, said the substance use disorder program doesn’t have a full-time person focused on billing and sometimes doesn’t realize clients lost Medicaid coverage until the state rejects thousands of dollars in services that Crosswinds submits for reimbursement. After that, it can take months for clients to either get reenrolled or learn they truly no longer qualify.

Ferguson said he’s writing grant proposals to continue to treat people despite their inability to pay.

“We’re riding by the seat of our pants right now,” he said. “We are unsure what next month or the next quarter looks like.”

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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This State Isn’t Waiting for Biden To Negotiate Drug Prices

As the federal government negotiates with drugmakers to lower the price of 10 expensive drugs for Medicare patients, impatient legislators in some states are trying to go even further. Leading the pack is Colorado, where a new Prescription Drug Affordability Review Board is set to recommend an “upper payment limit” for drugs it deems unaffordable.

In late February the board selected Enbrel, Amgen’s blockbuster drug for autoimmune conditions (list price $1,850 per week), as the first medication that would go through its processNovartis’s Cosentyx and Johnson & Johnson’s Stelara (both treat autoimmune conditions) will undergo affordability reviews later this year.

Enbrel and Stelara are also on the list of drugs whose prices the federal government is negotiating — but only for Medicare patients. Prices may be published Sept. 1 — in time for President Biden to cheer the results in his reelection campaign. But they won’t take effect until 2026, while the drug industry pursues a raft of lawsuits to stop the initiative.

Colorado’s plan is, in many ways, both broader and more prescriptive than the feds’, covering all patients and potentially fixing an upper price limit rather than squabbling with the industry over an acceptable figure.

Colorado’s government said it anticipates similar litigation. A spokesperson for the state’s Division of Insurance, which oversees the program, declined to make anyone available for an interview.

The Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, the industry’s main trade group, said in a blog post: “Policymakers in Colorado have created a system in which patients may face significant barriers to lifesaving medicines because of government price setting.”

The state has already said 604 drugs met the first criteria to undergo an affordability review. The full list of drugs is linked from the board’s webpage, along with a list — in order — of those it has slated for priority review.

The Colorado board will spend the summer setting upper payment levels for drugs selected for price reviews. Drugmakers can then appeal.

The board plans to examine how manufacturers price — and raise prices — for drugs. For generics, the board’s director, Lila Cummings, said at a Feb. 23 meeting, the criteria could include whether the price paid by wholesalers before discounts has increased at least 200 percent in the past year and whether a 30-day supply costs more than $100. Branded drugs that cost more than $30,000 a year or whose wholesale price has increased at least 10 percent in the past year could land in the board’s sights, as could biosimilars that aren’t at least 15 percent cheaper than the brand-name biologics they’re intended to replace, Cummings said.

The five-member board, appointed by Gov. Jared Polis (D), includes two medical doctors, two pharmacists and a hospital executive. A 15-member advisory council includes patient advocates, insurers, pharmacists and representatives of drug manufacturers.

The Colorado law creating the board set out a lengthy process for any drugmaker that decides to withdraw its product from the state over the price caps. (Note that the state is also exploring importing cheaper drugs from Canada, without much success so far.)

More than a dozen states are attempting to rein in drug prices through a variety of tactics. It’s early in U.S. regulators’ work to control drug prices, and it’s unclear whether the federal or state efforts will prevail. 

What is clear is that patients need some relief: Over 30 percent of adults report not taking medications as prescribed because of costs, and 1 in 5 didn’t fill a prescription, according to KFF survey results published in August.

This article is not available for syndication due to republishing restrictions. If you have questions about the availability of this or other content for republication, please contact NewsWeb@kff.org.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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HHS Announces Savings for 41 Prescription Drugs Thanks to Inflation Rebates from the Biden-Harris Administration’s Lower Cost Prescription Drug Law

HHS Gov News - March 26, 2024
Those with Medicare may pay a lower coinsurance for some Part B drugs if the drug’s price increases faster than the rate of inflation.

Overdosing on Chemo: A Common Gene Test Could Save Hundreds of Lives Each Year

One January morning in 2021, Carol Rosen took a standard treatment for metastatic breast cancer. Three gruesome weeks later, she died in excruciating pain from the very drug meant to prolong her life.

Rosen, a 70-year-old retired schoolteacher, passed her final days in anguish, enduring severe diarrhea and nausea and terrible sores in her mouth that kept her from eating, drinking, and, eventually, speaking. Skin peeled off her body. Her kidneys and liver failed. “Your body burns from the inside out,” said Rosen’s daughter, Lindsay Murray, of Andover, Massachusetts.

Rosen was one of more than 275,000 cancer patients in the United States who are infused each year with fluorouracil, known as 5-FU, or, as in Rosen’s case, take a nearly identical drug in pill form called capecitabine. These common types of chemotherapy are no picnic for anyone, but for patients who are deficient in an enzyme that metabolizes the drugs, they can be torturous or deadly.

Those patients essentially overdose because the drugs stay in the body for hours rather than being quickly metabolized and excreted. The drugs kill an estimated 1 in 1,000 patients who take them — hundreds each year — and severely sicken or hospitalize 1 in 50. Doctors can test for the deficiency and get results within a week — and then either switch drugs or lower the dosage if patients have a genetic variant that carries risk.

Yet a recent survey found that only 3% of U.S. oncologists routinely order the tests before dosing patients with 5-FU or capecitabine. That’s because the most widely followed U.S. cancer treatment guidelines — issued by the National Comprehensive Cancer Network — don’t recommend preemptive testing.

The FDA added new warnings about the lethal risks of 5-FU to the drug’s label on March 21 following queries from KFF Health News about its policy. However, it did not require doctors to administer the test before prescribing the chemotherapy.

The agency, whose plan to expand its oversight of laboratory testing was the subject of a House hearing, also March 21, has said it could not endorse the 5-FU toxicity tests because it’s never reviewed them.

But the FDA at present does not review most diagnostic tests, said Daniel Hertz, an associate professor at the University of Michigan College of Pharmacy. For years, with other doctors and pharmacists, he has petitioned the FDA to put a black box warning on the drug’s label urging prescribers to test for the deficiency.

“FDA has responsibility to assure that drugs are used safely and effectively,” he said. The failure to warn, he said, “is an abdication of their responsibility.”

The update is “a small step in the right direction, but not the sea change we need,” he said.

Europe Ahead on Safety

British and European Union drug authorities have recommended the testing since 2020. A small but growing number of U.S. hospital systems, professional groups, and health advocates, including the American Cancer Society, also endorse routine testing. Most U.S. insurers, private and public, will cover the tests, which Medicare reimburses for $175, although tests may cost more depending on how many variants they screen for.

In its latest guidelines on colon cancer, the Cancer Network panel noted that not everyone with a risky gene variant gets sick from the drug, and that lower dosing for patients carrying such a variant could rob them of a cure or remission. Many doctors on the panel, including the University of Colorado oncologist Wells Messersmith, have said they have never witnessed a 5-FU death.

In European hospitals, the practice is to start patients with a half- or quarter-dose of 5-FU if tests show a patient is a poor metabolizer, then raise the dose if the patient responds well to the drug. Advocates for the approach say American oncology leaders are dragging their feet unnecessarily, and harming people in the process.

“I think it’s the intransigence of people sitting on these panels, the mindset of ‘We are oncologists, drugs are our tools, we don’t want to go looking for reasons not to use our tools,’” said Gabriel Brooks, an oncologist and researcher at the Dartmouth Cancer Center.

Oncologists are accustomed to chemotherapy’s toxicity and tend to have a “no pain, no gain” attitude, he said. 5-FU has been in use since the 1950s.

Yet “anybody who’s had a patient die like this will want to test everyone,” said Robert Diasio of the Mayo Clinic, who helped carry out major studies of the genetic deficiency in 1988.

Oncologists often deploy genetic tests to match tumors in cancer patients with the expensive drugs used to shrink them. But the same can’t always be said for gene tests aimed at improving safety, said Mark Fleury, policy director at the American Cancer Society’s Cancer Action Network.

When a test can show whether a new drug is appropriate, “there are a lot more forces aligned to ensure that testing is done,” he said. “The same stakeholders and forces are not involved” with a generic like 5-FU, first approved in 1962, and costing roughly $17 for a month’s treatment.

Oncology is not the only area in medicine in which scientific advances, many of them taxpayer-funded, lag in implementation. For instance, few cardiologists test patients before they go on Plavix, a brand name for the anti-blood-clotting agent clopidogrel, although it doesn’t prevent blood clots as it’s supposed to in a quarter of the 4 million Americans prescribed it each year. In 2021, the state of Hawaii won an $834 million judgment from drugmakers it accused of falsely advertising the drug as safe and effective for Native Hawaiians, more than half of whom lack the main enzyme to process clopidogrel.

The fluoropyrimidine enzyme deficiency numbers are smaller — and people with the deficiency aren’t at severe risk if they use topical cream forms of the drug for skin cancers. Yet even a single miserable, medically caused death was meaningful to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, where Carol Rosen was among more than 1,000 patients treated with fluoropyrimidine in 2021.

Her daughter was grief-stricken and furious after Rosen’s death. “I wanted to sue the hospital. I wanted to sue the oncologist,” Murray said. “But I realized that wasn’t what my mom would want.”

Instead, she wrote Dana-Farber’s chief quality officer, Joe Jacobson, urging routine testing. He responded the same day, and the hospital quickly adopted a testing system that now covers more than 90% of prospective fluoropyrimidine patients. About 50 patients with risky variants were detected in the first 10 months, Jacobson said.

Dana-Farber uses a Mayo Clinic test that searches for eight potentially dangerous variants of the relevant gene. Veterans Affairs hospitals use a 11-variant test, while most others check for only four variants.

Different Tests May Be Needed for Different Ancestries

The more variants a test screens for, the better the chance of finding rarer gene forms in ethnically diverse populations. For example, different variants are responsible for the worst deficiencies in people of African and European ancestry, respectively. There are tests that scan for hundreds of variants that might slow metabolism of the drug, but they take longer and cost more.

These are bitter facts for Scott Kapoor, a Toronto-area emergency room physician whose brother, Anil Kapoor, died in February 2023 of 5-FU poisoning.

Anil Kapoor was a well-known urologist and surgeon, an outgoing speaker, researcher, clinician, and irreverent friend whose funeral drew hundreds. His death at age 58, only weeks after he was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, stunned and infuriated his family.

In Ontario, where Kapoor was treated, the health system had just begun testing for four gene variants discovered in studies of mostly European populations. Anil Kapoor and his siblings, the Canadian-born children of Indian immigrants, carry a gene form that’s apparently associated with South Asian ancestry.

Scott Kapoor supports broader testing for the defect — only about half of Toronto’s inhabitants are of European descent — and argues that an antidote to fluoropyrimidine poisoning, approved by the FDA in 2015, should be on hand. However, it works only for a few days after ingestion of the drug and definitive symptoms often take longer to emerge.

Most importantly, he said, patients must be aware of the risk. “You tell them, ‘I am going to give you a drug with a 1 in 1,000 chance of killing you. You can take this test. Most patients would be, ‘I want to get that test and I’ll pay for it,’ or they’d just say, ‘Cut the dose in half.’”

Alan Venook, the University of California-San Francisco oncologist who co-chairs the National Comprehensive Cancer Network, has led resistance to mandatory testing because the answers provided by the test, in his view, are often murky and could lead to undertreatment.

“If one patient is not cured, then you giveth and you taketh away,” he said. “Maybe you took it away by not giving adequate treatment.”

Instead of testing and potentially cutting a first dose of curative therapy, “I err on the latter, acknowledging they will get sick,” he said. About 25 years ago, one of his patients died of 5-FU toxicity and “I regret that dearly,” he said. “But unhelpful information may lead us in the wrong direction.”

In September, seven months after his brother’s death, Kapoor was boarding a cruise ship on the Tyrrhenian Sea near Rome when he happened to meet a woman whose husband, Atlanta municipal judge Gary Markwell, had died the year before after taking a single 5-FU dose at age 77.

“I was like … that’s exactly what happened to my brother.”

Murray senses momentum toward mandatory testing. In 2022, the Oregon Health & Science University paid $1 million to settle a suit after an overdose death.

“What’s going to break that barrier is the lawsuits, and the big institutions like Dana-Farber who are implementing programs and seeing them succeed,” she said. “I think providers are going to feel kind of bullied into a corner. They’re going to continue to hear from families and they are going to have to do something about it.”

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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A Paramedic Was Skeptical About This Rx for Stopping Repeat Opioid Overdoses. Then He Saw It Help.

Kaiser Health News:States - March 25, 2024

OCALA, Fla. — Fire Capt. Jesse Blaire steered his SUV through the mobile home park until he spotted the little beige house with white trim and radioed to let dispatchers know he’d arrived.

There, Shawnice Slaughter waited on the steps, wiping sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning, Shawnice,” Blaire said. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’ve been good, I’ve been good,” Slaughter said. “Much better.”

Three days earlier, Blaire — a paramedic who leads the fire department’s emergency medical team — met Slaughter at a nearby hospital. She had overdosed on opioids. It took four vials of an overdose reversal medication and dozens of chest compressions to get her breathing again.

At the hospital, Blaire told Slaughter about a free program that could help. It wouldn’t just connect her with a recovery center but would also get her doctors’ appointments, plus rides there. More important, she would get medicine to alleviate withdrawal symptoms so she wouldn’t search for drugs to ease the sickness. Blaire would bring that medication, daily, to her home.

“I have a son,” Slaughter, 31, told Blaire. “I need to be alive for him.”

Every morning since, Blaire had driven over for a check-in. He reminded Slaughter of appointments and took note of what she needed: clothes, food, help with bills.

And at the end of each visit, from a lockbox in the back of his car, he dispensed to her a couple of tiny, lifesaving tablets.

Those tablets — a medicine called buprenorphine — represent a tidal change in the way counties in Florida and other states are addressing the opioid crisis. The idea: Get addiction medication to people who need it by meeting them where they are. Sometimes, that’s on the street. Sometimes, it’s in the driveway of a big house with a swimming pool. Sometimes on the steps of a modest home like Slaughter’s.

********

For a long time, many people who could benefit from buprenorphine, commonly known by the brand name Subutex, couldn’t get it.

Until recently, doctors needed a federal waiver to prescribe it to treat opioid use disorder. Amid misconceptions about treating opioid use disorder with medication, only about 5% of doctors nationally underwent the training to qualify. And in 2021, only 1 in 5 people who could have benefited from opioid addiction medication were receiving buprenorphine or another drug therapy.

But as evidence supporting the drug’s efficacy grew and the urgency mounted to curb opioid deaths, Congress axed the waiver requirement in late 2022, clearing the way for greater availability.

And in rare cases, such as in Ocala, medics on the front lines began bringing treatment to patients’ front doors.

In Florida, the state-run Coordinated Opioid Recovery Network, known as the CORE Network, provides guidelines on medicine distribution to areas hit hard by overdoses. Services through the network are free for patients, funded by money from the state’s opioid settlement.

The network looks different in each of its 13 counties. Not all hand-deliver buprenorphine. But the common goal is to create a single entry point for services that have typically been siloed and difficult for patients to navigate, such as mental health care and housing support.

In a recovery landscape rife with shoddy facilities and prohibitive price tags, simplifying the path for patients stands to make a meaningful difference.

“We know that the more people are in contact with services, the more they’re treated with respect, the more likely they are to reduce or cease drug use,” said Susan Sherman, a public health professor at Johns Hopkins University.

As opioid settlement dollars continue to come in, state officials have said they hope to expand to more counties.

********

Becoming a firefighter and paramedic satisfied Blaire’s craving for adrenaline and his conviction, informed in part by his Christian background, that he was put on this Earth to help others.

At 20, he imagined responding to car crashes and heart attacks, broken bones and punctured flesh. But after years on the job with Ocala Fire Rescue, the calls began to change.

At first, Blaire felt some resentment toward the people overdosing. His team was suddenly responding to hundreds of such calls a year. He viewed drug use as a moral failure. What if a grandmother had a heart attack or a kid drowned while his team was on an overdose call?

Unlike with other emergencies, he never really felt he was saving a life when responding to an overdose. It was more like delaying death.

Over and over, he’d pump a patient full of naloxone, an overdose reversal medication often known by one of its brand names, Narcan, and drop them at the hospital, only to find they’d overdosed again after being discharged. One Christmas, he said, he responded to the same person overdosing five times on a single shift.

“I didn’t understand it. I thought that they wanted to die,” said Blaire, 47. “I’m embarrassed to say that now.”

About a decade ago, the scope of the epidemic had already come into full view to Blaire’s crew. It seemed the team was responding to overdoses at big houses in wealthy neighborhoods nearly as often as they were in the park and under the bridge.

One week, his team went to a home on a cul-de-sac with two kids and a swing set — the kind of place families take their children trick-or-treating.

The dad had overdosed. The next week, it was the mom.

“Money can mask any problem, but we’ve seen it from the top to the bottom,” Blaire said.

Over time, Blaire began to understand addiction as the disease it is: a physiological change to someone’s brain that traps them in a dangerous cycle. Maybe it started with a prescription painkiller after surgery, or an indulgence at a party, but the majority of people weren’t using drugs to get high, he realized. They were using them to avoid being sick.

“Imagine the worst flu you’ve ever had, then make it a lot worse,” Blaire said.

When a person dependent on opioids stops taking them, their body goes into withdrawal, often accompanied by shakes, nausea, fever, sweating, and chills. Though rare, people can die from opioid withdrawal syndrome. Still, historically, the emergency health care system has focused on reversing overdoses, rather than treating the withdrawal side effects that keep people returning to drugs.

In the past, Blaire said, he saw patients released from the hospital with little more than a phone number for a recovery center. Getting an appointment could be challenging, not only because of wait times or insurance complications, but because the patients weren’t stable — they were in withdrawal. To make it through the day, Blaire said, they’d often use again.

“‘Good luck, you’re on your own,’” Blaire said. “That’s how it was. And that doesn’t work for somebody who is sick.”

Under Blaire’s leadership, Ocala Fire Rescue sought to stop the revolving door by launching its Community Paramedicine program and the Ocala Recovery Project in 2020.

They modeled it after overdose quick-response teams around the country, which vary in makeup. These mobile teams, typically helmed by paramedics like Blaire, connect people who have overdosed with services aimed at stabilizing them long-term. On some, a registered nurse embeds with paramedics in an ambulance or SUV. Others have a therapist or peer recovery coach on board. Some are bare-bones: a single responder with a phone on 24 hours a day. Some get in touch with patients through a call or a home visit after a reported overdose.

Others, like Blaire’s team, intercept patients at the hospital.

Blaire likens the system to that of a trauma alert — a message sent to medical centers to ready a response to near-fatal car wrecks or shootings. When a trauma alert goes out, operating tables are cleared, CT scanners are prepped, and responders stand by for arrival.

“We set the same system up for overdoses,” Blaire said.

Now, when somebody in Ocala overdoses, whether it’s on opioids, alcohol, meth, or cocaine, an alert goes out, notifying Blaire and his team, a peer recovery coach, a behavioral health specialist, and a local recovery center.

His team usually beats the ambulance to the hospital.

The next day, team members follow up at the patient’s home.

Then, last May, under the guidance of the EMS medical director, Blaire’s team started offering addiction medication to opioid users, too.

Since then, Blaire said, his team has connected 149 patients with treatment. Only 28 of them have needed additional intervention, he said.

********

When Blaire first heard about buprenorphine, he was skeptical.

How could giving somebody with an addiction more narcotics help?

That common response misunderstands the reality of addiction, said Nora Volkow, director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

People perceive that one drug is being substituted for another, Volkow said. Instead, the use of medications like buprenorphine is more akin to those that treat other psychiatric conditions, like mood disorders or depression.

Research shows that opioid addiction medication — including drugs like methadone — can greatly reduce the risk of overdose deaths, and increase a person’s retention in treatment. But a study out of the New York University Grossman School of Medicine found that nearly 87% of people with opioid use disorders don’t receive any.

Such addiction medications work by stimulating opioid receptors in the brain.

Opioids — like oxycodone or fentanyl — are what experts refer to as “full agonists.” Imagine an opioid receptor as a rounded bowl. A full agonist — like fentanyl — fits perfectly in that bowl and latches tightly to the receptor.

Buprenorphine is a “partial agonist.” It fits in the bowl — and satiates a craving — but doesn’t completely bind like a full agonist. Instead, it eliminates withdrawal symptoms so people won’t get sick or crave illicit drugs, without producing a high. Second, it counteracts the effects of other drugs, so a person can’t overdose on other opioids like fentanyl or heroin while taking it.

And for somebody who already uses opioids, overdosing from buprenorphine is nearly impossible.

“They help a person regain control of their everyday life,” Volkow said.

********

On this Monday in January, Blaire pulled into Beacon Point, a local treatment center, just past 2 p.m.

He’d spent his morning calling on people like Slaughter, but now he was meeting paramedics from his team. After nearly three weeks of home visits, a man in the recovery network program was set to have his first appointment with a doctor.

Blaire has found that once people are stable on buprenorphine, more often than not they want to get into a treatment program.

While Blaire waited, a woman walking out of the center approached, smiling.

“I just got my first clean urine analysis,” she said. “I’m doing great, I’m so excited.”

“That’s awesome news,” Blaire said, a smile stretched across his face. He’s often stoic, straight-laced, with combed hair and aviators. But when he lights up, his all-business exterior gives way to gentleness.

Jacqueline Luciano is sober for the first time in 30 years. She’s proud, glowing, and Blaire is proud, too.

Luciano first came to Blaire through a referral when she was living at a women’s shelter. She said she had $20 in her pocket and wanted to get high — needed to.

Fentanyl withdrawal had left her shaky and cold. Her stomach was seizing, her muscles spasming. To quell the agony that day in early January, she went on the hunt.

Luciano said she had first used drugs when she was 9. Her family had been torn apart by pills and powders, she said, a sickness she’d inherited.

But this time, a woman — “like an angel” — passed her a number for someone who she promised could guide her into a brighter future, blame-free. Luciano, 39, paused, skeptical.

Then she gave Blaire a call.

For about a week, Blaire delivered her a daily dose of buprenorphine using a Safe RX bottle — essentially a trackable pill bottle with a lock code to limit who can open it. He helped connect her with food and clothing donations.

And as Luciano started to feel more like herself, absent of cravings, she began to hope.

Blaire got her an appointment with doctors at Beacon Point, then drove her to her first screening. Now, in the parking lot, she thanked him for everything.

“It made all the difference in the world,” Luciano told Blaire. “I really didn’t think that I could get better. I didn’t. But I am.”

As a tear rolled down Luciano’s face, Blaire’s phone rang.

********

The call came from the health department. A man in his 40s or 50s had come some 40 miles from Gainesville, Florida, for help, steered through word of mouth.

He’d tried to get into a recovery center there but said he was turned away. Something about insurance and a criminal record had stood in the way.

It’s a pattern that drives Blaire crazy. He’d seen it a lot before his team was formed. People would get a moment of courage or clarity, only to be told “not yet.”

“Your first answer has to be ‘yes,’” he said. “‘Yes, I can help you.’”

He knew about a woman who had come from 25 miles out of town, then was told to come back days later. She didn’t have a car or a home to return to.

“They didn’t even offer her a ride,” Blaire said. “Sometimes you only have one shot.”

Blaire has learned that building trust starts with a small offering. A car ride. A sandwich. Help getting a government ID. Anything to show that you care, that you’re useful. That you see someone trying.

Outside the health department, a man in muddied jeans and a frayed T-shirt stood waiting on the curb. He introduced himself as Jetson and didn’t give a last name. Blaire shook his hand before they loaded into the car.

“So what brings you this way?” Blaire asked, once both were buckled in.

“I heard there were services here,” Jetson said, his voice gruff, quivering. “I’ve tried to stop using so many times, but I keep messing it up.”

Jetson shook his head.

“Well, I’m glad you found us,” Blaire said. He asked the man if he wanted to go to the recovery center for a screening. He did.

Over the 10-minute drive to Beacon Point, Blaire and Jetson talked, not about drugs or meds, but life. Baseball. Cabbage (good when fried).

When they pulled up, Blaire handed Jetson a card.

“Please call me,” Blaire said. “If you need anything. We can get you help.”

For a moment, the men sat there. Jetson pulling at his fingers. Taking deep breaths.

Then, he got out of the car — Blaire’s card in hand — and walked through the glass door.

This article was produced in partnership with the Tampa Bay Times.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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A Mom’s $97,000 Question: How Was Her Baby’s Air-Ambulance Ride Not Medically Necessary?

Kaiser Health News:Insurance - March 25, 2024

Sara England was putting together Ghostbusters costumes for Halloween when she noticed her baby wasn’t doing well.

Her 3-month-old son, Amari Vaca, had undergone open-heart surgery two months before, so she called his cardiologist, who recommended getting him checked out. England assigned Amari’s grandparents to trick-or-treat duty with his three older siblings and headed to the local emergency room.

Once England and the baby arrived at Natividad Medical Center in Salinas, California, she said, doctors could see Amari was struggling to breathe and told her that he needed specialized care immediately, from whichever of two major hospitals in the region had an opening first.

Even as they talked, Amari was declining rapidly, his mother said. Doctors put a tube down his throat and used a bag to manually push air into his lungs for over an hour to keep his oxygen levels up until he was stable enough to switch to a ventilator.

According to England, late that night, when doctors said the baby was stable enough to travel, his medical team told her that a bed had opened up at the University of California-San Francisco Medical Center and that staffers there were ready to receive him.

She, her son, and an EMT boarded a small plane around midnight. Ground ambulances carried them between the hospitals and airports.

Amari was diagnosed with respiratory syncytial virus, or RSV, and spent three weeks in the hospital before recovering and returning home.

Then the bill came.

The Patient: Amari Vaca, now 1, who was covered by a Cigna policy sponsored by his father’s employer at the time.

Medical Services: An 86-mile air-ambulance flight from Salinas to San Francisco.

Service Provider: Reach Medical Holdings, which is part of Global Medical Response, an industry giant backed by private equity investors. Global Medical Response operates in all 50 states and has said it has a total of 498 helicopters and airplanes. It is out-of-network with Amari’s Cigna plan.

Total Bill: $97,599. Cigna declined to cover any part of the bill.

What Gives: Legal safeguards are in place to protect patients from big bills for some out-of-network care, including air-ambulance rides.

Medical billing experts said the No Surprises Act, a federal law enacted in 2022, could have protected Amari’s family from receiving the $97,000 “balance bill,” leaving the insurer and the air-ambulance provider to determine fair payment according to the law. But the protections apply only to care that health plans determine is “medically necessary” — and insurers get to define what that means in each case.

According to its coverage denial letter, Cigna determined that Amari’s air-ambulance ride was not medically necessary. The insurer cited its reasoning: He could have taken a ground ambulance instead of a plane to cover the nearly 100 roadway miles between Salinas and San Francisco.

“I thought there must have been a mistake,” England said. “There’s no way we can pay this. Is this a real thing?”

In the letter, Cigna said Amari’s records did not show that other methods of transportation were “medically contraindicated or not feasible.” The health plan also noted the absence of documentation that he could not be reached by a ground ambulance for pickup or that a ground ambulance would be unfeasible because of “great distances or other obstacles.”

Lastly, it said records did not show a ground ambulance “would impede timely and appropriate medical care.”

When KFF Health News asked Cigna what records were referenced when making this decision, a spokesperson declined to respond.

Caitlin Donovan, a spokesperson for the National Patient Advocate Foundation, said that even though Amari’s bill isn’t technically in violation of the No Surprises Act, the situation is exactly what the law was designed to avoid.

“What they’re basically saying is that the parents should have opted against the advice of the physician,” Donovan said. “That’s insane. I know ‘medical necessity’ is this nebulous term, but it seems like it’s becoming a catch-all for turning down patients.”

On Feb. 5, the National Association of Emergency Medical Services Physicians said that since the No Surprises Act was enacted two years ago, it has seen a jump in claim denials based on “lack of medical necessity,” predominantly for air-ambulance transports between facilities.

In a letter to federal health officials, the group cited reasons commonly given for inappropriate medical-necessity denials observed by some of its 2,000 members, such as “the patient should have been taken elsewhere” or “the patient could have been transported by ground ambulance.”

The association urged the government to require that health plans presume medical necessity for inter-facility air transports ordered by a physician at a hospital, subject to a retrospective review.

Such decisions are often “made under dire circumstances — when a hospital is not capable of caring for or stabilizing a particular patient or lacks the clinical resources to stabilize a patient with a certain clinical diagnosis,” the group’s president, José Cabañas, wrote in the letter. “Clinical determinations made by a referring physician (or another qualified medical professional) should not be second-guessed by a plan.”

Patricia Kelmar, a health policy expert and senior director with the U.S. Public Interest Research Groups, noted, however, that hospitals could familiarize themselves with local health plans, for example, and establish protocol, so that before they call an air ambulance, they know if there are in-network alternatives and, if not, what items the plan needs to justify the claim and provide payment.

“The hospitals who live and breathe and work in our communities should be considering the individuals who come to them every day,” Kelmar said. “I understand in emergency situations you generally have a limited amount of time, but, in most situations, you should be familiar with the plans so you can work within the confines of the patient’s health insurance.”

England said Cigna’s denial particularly upset her.

“As parents, we did not make any of the decisions other than to say, yes, we’ll do that,” she said. “I don’t know how else it could have gone.”

The Resolution: England twice appealed the air-ambulance charge to the insurer, but both times Cigna rejected the claim, maintaining that “medical necessity” had not been established.

The final step of the appeals process is an external review, in which a third party evaluates the case. England said staff members at Natividad Medical Center in Salinas — which arranged Amari’s transport — declined to write an appeal letter on his behalf, explaining to her that doing so is against the facility’s policy.

Using her son’s medical records, which the Natividad staff provided, England said she is writing a letter herself to assert why the air ambulance was medically necessary.

Andrea Rosenberg, a spokesperson for Natividad Medical Center, said the hospital focuses on “maintaining the highest standards of health care and patient well-being.”

Despite receiving a waiver from England authorizing the medical center to discuss Amari’s case, Rosenberg did not respond to questions from KFF Health News, citing privacy issues. A Cigna spokesperson told KFF Health News that the insurer has in-network alternatives to the out-of-network ambulance provider, but — despite receiving a waiver authorizing Cigna to discuss Amari’s case — declined to answer other questions.

“It is disappointing that CALSTAR/REACH is attempting to collect this egregious balance from the patient’s family,” the Cigna spokesperson, Justine Sessions, said in an email, referring to the air-ambulance provider. “We are working diligently to try to resolve this for the family.”

On March 13, weeks after being contacted by KFF Health News, England said, a Cigna representative contacted her and offered assistance with her final appeal, the one reviewed by a third party. The representative also told her the insurer had attempted to contact the ambulance provider but had been unable to resolve the bill with them.

Global Medical Response, the ambulance provider, declined to comment.

England said she and her husband have set aside two hours each week for him to take care of their four kids while she shuts herself in her room and makes calls about their medical bills.

“It’s just another stress,” she said. “Another thing to get in the way of us being able to enjoy our family.”

The Takeaway: Kelmar said she encourages patients to appeal bills that seem inaccurate. Even if the plan denies it internally, push forward to an external review so someone outside the company has a chance to review, she said.

In the case of “medical necessity” denials, Kelmar recommended patients work with the medical provider to provide more information to the insurance company to underscore why an emergency transport was required.

More from Bill of the Month

Doctors who write a letter or make a call to a patient’s insurer explaining a decision can also ask for a “peer-to-peer review,” meaning they would discuss the case with a medical expert in their field.

Kelmar said patients with employer-sponsored health plans can ask their employer’s human resources department to advocate for them with the health plan. It’s in the employers’ best interest since they often pay a lot for these health plans, she said.

No matter what, Kelmar said, patients shouldn’t let fear stop them from appealing a medical bill. Patients who appeal have a high likelihood of winning, she said.

Patients with government health coverage can further appeal insurance denials by filing a complaint with the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. Those who believe they have received an inappropriate bill from an out-of-network provider can call the No Surprises Act help desk at 1-800-985-3059.

Bill of the Month is a crowdsourced investigation by KFF Health News and NPR that dissects and explains medical bills. Do you have an interesting medical bill you want to share with us? Tell us about it!

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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After Appalachian Hospitals Merged Into a Monopoly, Their ERs Slowed to a Crawl

In the small Appalachian city of Bristol, Virginia, City Council member Neal Osborne left a meeting on the morning of Jan. 3 and rushed himself to the hospital.

Osborne, 36, has Type 1 diabetes. His insulin pump had malfunctioned, and without a steady supply of this essential hormone, Osborne’s blood sugar skyrocketed and his body was shutting down.

Osborne went to the nearest hospital, Bristol Regional Medical Center. He said he settled into a wheelchair in the emergency room waiting area, where over the next few hours he drifted in and out of consciousness and retched up vomit, then bile, then blood. After 12 hours in the waiting room, Osborne said, he was moved to an ER bed, where he stayed until he was sent to the intensive care unit the next day. In total, the council member was in the ER for about 30 hours, he said.

Osborne said his ordeal echoes stories he’s heard from constituents for years. In his next crisis, Osborne said, he plans to leave Bristol for an ER about two hours away.

“I want to go to Knoxville or I want to go to Roanoke, because I do not want to further risk my life and die at a Ballad hospital,” he said. “The wait times just to get in and see a doctor in the ER have grown exponentially.”

Ballad Health, a 20-hospital system in the Tri-Cities region of Tennessee and Virginia, benefits from the largest state-sanctioned hospital monopoly in the United States. In the six years since lawmakers in both states waived anti-monopoly laws and Ballad was formed, ER visits for patients sick enough to be hospitalized grew more than three times as long and now far exceed the criteria set by state officials, according to Ballad reports released by the Tennessee Department of Health.

Tennessee and Virginia have so far announced no steps to reduce time spent in Ballad ERs. The Tennessee health department, which has a more direct role in regulating Ballad, has each year issued a report saying the agreement that gave Ballad a monopoly “continues to provide a Public Advantage.” Department officials have twice declined to comment to KFF Health News on Ballad’s performance.

According to Ballad’s latest annual report, which was released this month and spans from July 2022 to June 2023, the median time that patients spend in Ballad ERs before being admitted to the hospital is nearly 11 hours. This statistic includes both time spent waiting and time being treated in the ER and excludes patients who weren’t admitted or left the ER without receiving care.

The federal government once tracked ER speed the same way. When compared against the latest corresponding federal data from 2019, which includes more than 4,000 hospitals but predates the covid-19 pandemic, Ballad ranks among the 100 hospitals with the slowest ERs. More current federal data is not available because the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services retired this statistic in 2020 in favor of other measurements.

Newer data tells a similar story. The Joint Commission, a nonprofit that accredits health care organizations, collected this same measurement for 2022 from about 250 hospitals that volunteered the data, finding a median ER speed of five hours and 41 minutes — or about five hours faster than Ballad’s latest annual report.

Ballad Health spokesperson Molly Luton said in an email statement that, by holding patients in the ER, where they are observed while waiting for a bed, Ballad avoids “overwhelming” its staff. Luton said ER delays are also caused by two nationwide crises: a nursing shortage and fewer admissions at nursing homes and similar facilities, which can create a backlog of patients awaiting discharge from the hospital.

Luton added that Ballad’s ER time for admitted patients has dropped to about 7½ hours in the months since the company’s latest annual report.

“On those issues Ballad Health can directly control, our performance has rebounded from 2022, and is now among the best in the nation,” Luton said.

Luton also noted that Ballad performs better than or close to the national average on several other measurements of ER performance, including having fewer patients who leave without being treated. CMS data shows the national average is about 3%. Ballad reported 1.4% in its latest annual report.

Osborne, the Bristol council member, attributed this statistic to Ballad’s monopoly.

“Just because they aren’t leaving the ER doesn’t mean they are happy where they are,” he said. “It just means they don’t have anywhere else they could be.”

Ballad’s Big Monopoly

Ballad Health was formed in 2018 after state officials approved the nation’s biggest hospital merger based on a so-called Certificate of Public Advantage, or COPA, agreement. COPAs have been used in about 10 hospital mergers over the past three decades, but none has involved as many hospitals as Ballad’s.

State lawmakers in Tennessee and Virginia waived federal anti-monopoly laws so rival hospital systems — Mountain States Health Alliance and Wellmont Health System — could merge into a single company with no competition. Ballad is now the only option for hospital care for most of about 1.1 million residents in a 29-county region at the nexus of Tennessee, Virginia, Kentucky, and North Carolina.

The Federal Trade Commission warns that hospital monopolies lead to increased prices and decreased quality of care. To offset the perils of Ballad’s monopoly, officials required the new company to commit to a long list of special conditions, including dozens of quality-care metrics spelled out with specific benchmarks.

In its latest annual report, Ballad improved on many quality-of-care metrics over the prior year, including several that the company prioritized, but still fell short on 56 of 75 benchmarks.

ER time for admitted patients is one of those. The benchmark was set at three hours and 47 minutes in the original COPA agreement. Ballad met or nearly met this goal for three years, according to its annual reports. Then the ERs slowed.

In 2022, Ballad reported a median ER time for admitted patients of about six hours.

In 2023, it reported the same statistic at seven hours and 40 minutes.

In the latest report, ER time for admitted patients had reached 10 hours and 45 minutes.

CMS, which grades thousands of hospitals nationwide, warns on its website that timely ER care is “essential for good patient outcomes,” and that more time spent in the ER has been linked to higher complication rates and delays in patients getting pain medication and antibiotics.

Ben Harder, chief of health analysis for U.S. News & World Report, said extensive ER times can be a symptom of slowdowns throughout a hospital, including in the operating room.

“A long delay in getting patients admitted is both a risk in itself, in that a test may not get conducted as promptly,” Harder said. “But it’s also an indication that the hospital is backed up, and that there are problems getting patients moved from one unit to another.”

Bill Christian, a spokesperson for the Tennessee Department of Health, said Ballad’s rising ER times had been “noted” but did not say if the agency had taken or was considering any action. Christian directed questions about Ballad’s latest stats to the company itself.

‘A Nightmare for Community Members’

Ballad has also fallen short — by about $191 million over the past five years — of its obligation to Tennessee to provide charity care, which is free or discounted care for low-income patients, according to health department documents and Ballad’s latest report. The health department waived this obligation in each of the past four fiscal years. Ballad has said it would ask for another this year.

In a two-hour interview last year, Ballad CEO Alan Levine defended his company and said that because the Tri-Cities region could not support two competing hospital companies, the COPA merger had likely prevented at least three hospital closures. Levine attributed Ballad’s failure to meet quality benchmarks to the pressure of the covid pandemic and said charity care shortfalls were partly caused by Medicaid changes beyond Ballad’s control.

“Our critics say, ‘No Ballad. We don’t want Ballad.’ Well, then what?” Levine said. “Because the hospitals were on their way to being closed.”

Some residents see Ballad as a savior. John King, who runs a physical therapy clinic in the core of Ballad’s region, said at a public hearing last June that in multiple visits to Ballad ERs, including one for a stroke, he found their care to be quick and compassionate.

“If it weren’t for Ballad Health, I literally would not be here today,” King said, according to a hearing transcript.

Ballad’s failures to live up to the terms of the COPA agreement were detailed in a KFF Health News investigation last September, and the company faced a new wave of criticism in the months that followed.

Local leaders in Carter County, Tennessee, in October debated but did not pass a resolution calling for Ballad to be better regulated or broken up. Tennessee Attorney General Jonathan Skrmetti, a Republican, said in an interview with the Tennessee Lookout published in November that Ballad must be constantly monitored in light of community complaints. Earlier this month, Tennessee state Rep. David Hawk (R-Greeneville), who represents a region within Ballad’s monopoly, called for Levine’s resignation, according to wjhl.com.

In response, Ballad Health said in a statement it has “strong relationships with the majority of elected officials” in Carter County and welcomed scrutiny from the Tennessee attorney general. Ballad said Hawk’s “opinion certainly does not reflect our broader relationships” within the area. Tennessee lawmakers are also considering legislation to forbid future COPA mergers in the state, which Ballad said “risks putting more hospitals at risk for closure.”

The bill was introduced by state Sen. Heidi Campbell (D-Nashville) and state Rep. Gloria Johnson (D-Knoxville), who is running for the U.S. Senate. Johnson said the bill would end Ballad’s protection from antitrust laws.

“It’s just been a nightmare for community members out there,” Johnson said. “And they have no other option.”

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Readout of HHS Roundtable with Africa CDC on Ongoing Global Health Security Partnership

HHS Gov News - March 23, 2024
Global health security partnership with Africa CDC

Journalists Track Efforts to Curb the Opioid Crisis and Put Catholic Hospitals Under the Scope

Kaiser Health News:States - March 23, 2024

KFF Health News senior correspondent Aneri Pattani discussed her experiences reporting on addiction and offers advice to journalists starting on this beat for the American Society of Addiction Medicine’s “The Treat Addiction Save Lives Podcast” on March 18. She also discussed the spending questions surfacing as $1 billion flows into Massachusetts to fight opioids on WCVB NewsCenter 5’s “5 Investigates” on March 6.

KFF Health News correspondent Rachana Pradhan discussed the constraints on women’s health care at Catholic and Catholic-affiliated hospitals for PBS’ “PBS News Weekend” on March 17.

KFF Health News ethnic media editor Paula Andalo discussed how Colorado students are pushing for the ability to carry naloxone on Radio Bilingüe’s “Linea Abierta” on March 14.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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En California, la cobertura de salud ampliada a inmigrantes choca con las revisiones de Medicaid

Kaiser Health News:Insurance - March 22, 2024

OAKLAND, California – El Medi-Cal llegó a Antonio Abundis cuando el conserje más lo necesitaba.

Poco después que Abundis pasara de tener cobertura limitada a una cobertura completa en 2022, bajo la expansión del Medi-Cal de California para adultos mayores sin papeles, fue diagnosticado con leucemia, un tipo de cáncer que afecta las células de la sangre.

El padre de tres hijos, de voz suave, tomó la noticia con calma cuando su médico le dijo que sus análisis de sangre sugerían que su cáncer no estaba en una etapa avanzada. Sus siguientes pasos fueron hacerse más pruebas y tener un plan de tratamiento con un equipo de cáncer en Epic Care, en Emeryville.

Pero todo eso se fue por la borda cuando se presentó en julio pasado para hacerse un análisis de sangre en La Clínica de La Raza en Oakland, y le dijeron que ya no era beneficiario de Medi-Cal.

“Nunca mandaron una carta ni nada de que a mí me la había negado”, dijo Abundis, ahora de 63 años, sobre la pérdida de su cobertura.

Abundis es uno de los cientos de miles de latinos de California que han sido expulsados de Medi-Cal —el programa estatal de Medicaid para personas de bajos ingresos— a medida que los estados reanudaban las verificaciones de elegibilidad, que se habían suspendido en el punto más álgido de la pandemia de covid-19.

El proceso de redeterminación ha afectado de forma desproporcionada a los latinos, que constituyen la mayoría de los beneficiarios de Medi-Cal.

Según el Departamento de Servicios de Salud de California (DHCS), más de 613,000 de los 1,24 millones de residentes que fueron dados de baja se identifican como latinos. Algunos, incluido Abundis, habían obtenido la cobertura poco tiempo antes, cuando el estado comenzó a expandir Medi-Cal para ofrecer cobertura a inmigrantes indocumentados.

El choque entre las políticas estatales y las federales no sólo ha significado un duro golpe para los beneficiarios: también disparó la demanda de asistencia para realizar los trámites de inscripción.

Esto ocurre porque muchas personas son excluidas de Medi-Cal por cuestiones administrativas.

Los grupos de salud que trabajan con las comunidades latinas informan que están inundados de solicitudes de ayuda. Al mismo tiempo, una encuesta patrocinada por el estado sugiere que los hogares hispanos tienen más probabilidades que otros grupos étnicos o raciales de perder la cobertura porque tienen menos información sobre el proceso de renovación.

También pueden tener dificultades para defenderse por sí solos.

Algunos defensores de salud están presionando para que haya una pausa en este proceso. Advierten que las desafiliaciones no solo socavarán los esfuerzos del estado para reducir el número de personas sin seguro, sino que podrían exacerbar las disparidades en salud, especialmente para un grupo étnico que sufrió fuerte el peso de la pandemia.

Un estudio nacional encontró que los latinos en el país tuvieron tres veces más probabilidades de desarrollar covid y el doble de probabilidades de morir a causa de la enfermedad que la población en general, en parte porque tienden a vivir en hogares más hacinados o multigeneracionales y tienen trabajos en servicios, de cara al público.

“Estas dificultades nos colocan a todos como comunidad en un estatus más frágil, en el cual la red de seguridad es aún más significativa”, dijo Seciah Aquino, directora ejecutiva de la Latino Coalition for a Healthy California, una organización de defensa de salud.

La asambleísta Tasha Boerner (demócrata de Encinitas) ha presentado un proyecto de ley que desaceleraría las bajas permitiendo que las personas de 19 años o más mantengan automáticamente su cobertura durante 12 meses, y extendiendo las políticas flexibles de la era pandémica, como no requerir prueba de ingresos para renovar la cobertura en ciertos casos. Esto beneficiaría a los hispanos, que representan casi el 51% de la población de Medi-Cal en comparación con el 40% de la población total del estado.

La oficina del gobernador dijo que no comenta sobre proyectos legislativos que están aún en proceso.

Tony Cava, vocero del Departamento de Servicios de Atención Médica (DHCS), dijo en un correo electrónico que la agencia ha tomado medidas para aumentar el número de personas reinscritas automáticamente en Medi-Cal y no cree que sea necesaria una pausa. La tasa de desafiliación disminuyó un 10% de noviembre a diciembre, apuntó Cava.

Sin embargo, funcionarios estatales reconocen que se podría hacer más para ayudar a las personas a completar sus solicitudes. “Todavía no estamos llegando a ciertos sectores”, dijo Yingjia Huang, subdirectora adjunta de beneficios de atención médica y elegibilidad del DHCS.

California fue el primer estado en ampliar la elegibilidad de Medicaid a todos los inmigrantes que calificaran, sin importar su estatus migratorio, implementándolo gradualmente durante varios años: niños en 2016, adultos jóvenes de 19 a 26 años en 2020, personas de 50 años en adelante en 2022, y todos los adultos restantes este año.

Pero California, como otros estados, reanudó las verificaciones de elegibilidad en abril pasado, y se espera que el proceso continúe hasta mayo. El estado ahora está viendo que las tasas de desafiliación vuelven a los niveles previos a la pandemia, o el 19%-20% de la población de Medi-Cal cada año, según el DHCS.

Jane García, directora ejecutiva de La Clínica de La Raza, testificó ante el Comité de Salud de la Junta de Supervisores del condado de Alameda que las desafiliaciones siguen siendo un desafío, justo cuando su equipo intenta inscribir a residentes recién elegibles. “Es una carga enorme para nuestro personal”, les dijo a los supervisores en enero.

Aunque muchos beneficiarios ya no califican porque sus ingresos aumentaron, muchos más han sido eliminados de los registros por no responder a avisos o devolver documentos. En muchos casos, los paquetes de documentos para renovar la cobertura se enviaron a direcciones antiguas. Muchos se enteran de que perdieron la cobertura recién cuando van al médico.

“Sabían que algo estaba pasando”, dijo Janet Anwar, gerenta de elegibilidad en el Tiburcio Vásquez Health Center, en East Bay. “No sabían exactamente qué era, cómo los iba a afectar hasta que llegó el día y fueron desafiliados. Y estaban haciéndose un chequeo, o programando una cita, y luego… ‘Oye, perdiste tu cobertura'”.

Y la reinscripción es un desafío. Una encuesta patrocinada por el estado publicada el 12 de febrero por la California Health Care Foundation halló que el 30% de los hogares hispanos intentaron completar un formulario de renovación sin suerte, en comparación con el 19% de los hogares blancos no hispanos. Y el 43% de los hispanos informaron que les gustaría volver a comenzar con Medi-Cal, pero no sabían cómo, en comparación con el 32% de las personas en hogares blancos no hispanos.

La familia Abundis está entre las que no saben dónde obtener respuestas a sus preguntas. Aunque la esposa de Abundis envió la documentación de renovación de Medi-Cal para toda la familia en octubre, ella y dos hijos que aún viven con ellos pudieron mantener la cobertura; Abundis fue el único que la perdió.

No ha recibido una explicación de por qué lo sacaron de Medi-Cal ni ha sido notificado de cómo apelar o volver a solicitarlo.

Ahora se preocupa de que tal vez no califique por sí solo según sus ingresos anuales de aproximadamente $36,000, ya que el límite es de $20,121 para un individuo, pero de $41,400 para una familia de cuatro.

Es probable que un navegador pueda verificar si él y su familia califican como un hogar o ayudarlo a inscribirse en un plan privado que puede costar menos de $10 al mes en primas en Covered California. Este mercado de seguros de salud permite la inscripción especial cuando las personas pierden la cobertura de Medi-Cal o la que tienen a través de sus trabajos.

Pero Abundis supone que no podrá pagar primas o copagos, así que no ha presentado una solicitud.

Abundis, quien visitó a un médico por primera vez en mayo de 2022 debido a una fatiga sin causa aparente, dolor constante en la espalda y las rodillas, falta de aliento y pérdida de peso inexplicable, teme no poder pagar la atención médica. La Clínica de La Raza, el centro de salud comunitario en donde le hicieron análisis de sangre, lo ayudó ese día a que no tuviera que pagar por adelantado, pero desde entonces dejó de buscar atención médica.

Más de un año después de su diagnóstico, todavía no sabe en qué etapa del cáncer se encuentra ni cuál debería ser su plan de tratamiento. Aunque la detección temprana del cáncer puede aumentar las posibilidades de supervivencia, algunos tipos de leucemia avanzan rápidamente. Sin más pruebas, Abundis no conoce su pronóstico.

Yo estoy mentalizado”, dijo Abundis sobre su cáncer. “Lo que pase, pase”.

Incluso aquellos que buscan ayuda se topan con desafíos. Marisol, una inmigrante mexicana sin papeles, de 53 años, que vive en Richmond, California, intentó restablecer la cobertura durante meses. Aunque el estado experimentó una caída del 26% en las bajas de diciembre a enero, la proporción de latinos a los que se les canceló la cobertura durante ese período permaneció casi igual, lo que sugiere que enfrentan más barreras para la renovación.

Marisol, quien pidió que se usara su nombre de pila por temor a la deportación, también calificó para la cobertura completa de Medi-Cal durante la expansión estatal a todos los inmigrantes de 50 años en adelante.

En diciembre, recibió un paquete informándole que los ingresos de su hogar excedían el umbral de Medi-Cal, algo que ella creyó que era un error. El esposo de Marisol está sin trabajo debido a una lesión en la espalda, dijo, y sus dos hijos mantienen a su familia principalmente con trabajos de medio tiempo en Ross Dress for Less.

Ese mes, Marisol visitó una sucursal de Richmond del Departamento de Empleo y Servicios Humanos del condado de Contra Costa, con la esperanza de hablar con un navegador. En cambio, le dijeron que dejara su documentación y que llamara a un número de teléfono para verificar el estatus de su solicitud.

Desde entonces, llamó muchas veces y pasó horas en espera, pero no ha podido hablar con nadie. Los funcionarios del condado reconocieron tiempos de espera más prolongados debido al aumento de llamadas, y dijeron que el tiempo promedio es de 30 minutos.

“Entendemos la frustración de los miembros de la comunidad cuando a veces tienen dificultades para comunicarse”, escribió la vocera Tish Gallegos en un correo electrónico. Gallegos señaló que el centro de llamadas aumenta la dotación de personal durante las horas pico.

Después que El Tímpano contactara al condado para hacer comentarios, Marisol dijo que un trabajador de elegibilidad la contactó, y le explicó que su familia fue dada de baja porque sus hijos habían presentado impuestos por separado, por lo que el sistema de Medi-Cal determinó su elegibilidad individualmente en lugar de como familia.

El condado reintegró a Marisol y a su familia el 15 de marzo. Marisol dijo que recuperar Medi-Cal fue un final alegre pero agridulce para una lucha de meses, especialmente sabiendo que otras personas son desafiliadas por cuestiones de procedimiento. “Tristemente, tiene que haber presión para que arreglen algo”, dijo.

Jasmine Aguilera de El Tímpano está participando de la Journalism & Women Symposium’s Health Journalism Fellowship, apoyada por The Commonwealth Fund. Vanessa Flores, Katherine Nagasawa e Hiram Alejandro Durán de El Tímpano colaboraron con este artículo.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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Los hirieron en el desfile del Super Bowl: un mes después se sienten olvidados

Kaiser Health News:States - March 22, 2024

Este año, Jason Barton no quería ir al desfile del Super Bowl. La noche anterior le dijo a un compañero de trabajo que estaba preocupado por que ocurriera un tiroteo masivo. Pero era San Valentín, su esposa es fanática de los Kansas City Chiefs y él no podía permitirse pagar las entradas a los partidos, que habían aumentado muchísimo tras la victoria del equipo en el campeonato de 2020.

Así que Barton condujo 50 millas desde Osawatomie, Kansas, hasta el centro de Kansas City, Missouri, con su esposa Bridget, Gabriella, su hija de 13 años, y una amiga del colegio de la niña. Cuando por fin regresaron esa noche a casa, tuvieron que limpiar sangre de las zapatillas de Gabriella y encontraron una bala en la mochila de Bridget.

Gabriella tenía quemaduras en las piernas por los chispazos de una bala que rebotó cerca de ella, Bridget había sido pisoteada mientras protegía a su hija en medio del caos, y Jason le había practicado masajes cardíacos a un hombre herido de bala: cree que era Lyndell Mays, uno de los dos acusados de asesinato.

“Se supone que San Valentín es un día en el que nos divertimos y celebramos a nuestros afectos. Pero ya nunca habrá un San Valentín en el que no me acuerde de esto”, dijo Gabriella.

Un mes después del desfile —en el que esa crisis de salud pública que es la violencia armada en el país se transmitió por televisión en vivo— los Barton siguen impactados por el papel que les tocó en el epicentro de los acontecimientos.

Se encontraban a escasos metros de Lisa López-Galván, de 43 años, que fue asesinada. Otras 24 personas resultaron heridas. Los Barton no están incluidos en el número oficial de víctimas, sin embargo, quedaron traumatizados, física y emocionalmente, y el dolor impregna sus vidas.

Ahora, Bridget y Jason prefieren quedarse juntos en casa y siguen cancelando planes para salir; Gabriella cambió de proyecto y en vez de tomar clases de baile se anotó en un club de boxeo.

Durante el primer mes, los líderes comunitarios de Kansas City han discutido cómo atender a las personas que quedaron atrapadas bajo el fuego cruzado y cómo distribuir los más de $2 millones donados a los fondos públicos para las víctimas bajo el doloroso impacto inicial.

Hay muchas preguntas: ¿cómo compensar a las personas por los gastos en atención médica y psicológica, por los tratamientos de recuperación, por los salarios perdidos? ¿Qué ocurre con quienes padecen síntomas de estrés post traumático (TEPT), que pueden durar años? ¿Cómo hace una comunidad para identificar y atender a los heridos, que son las víctimas que a menudo se pasan por alto en los primeros informes sobre un tiroteo masivo?

Y la lista de heridos podría aumentar. Mientras investigan a cuatro de los sospechosos del tiroteo, la fiscalía y la policía de Kansas City convocan a otras víctimas a presentarse.

“En concreto, buscamos personas que hayan sufrido heridas cuando intentaban escapar y se produjo la estampida”, explicó la fiscal del condado de Jackson, Jean Peters Baker. Alguien que, “mientras huía, se cayó, se torció un tobillo, se rompió un hueso o lo pisotearon”.

Mientras tanto, las personas que se encargaron de recaudar dinero y facilitar la atención de los heridos debaten los criterios para distribuirlo. Gracias a las cuantiosas donaciones de famosos como Taylor Swift y Travis Kelce, algunas víctimas o sus familias dispondrán de cientos de miles de dólares para gastos médicos. A otras es posible que solo se les cubra la terapia.

Una investigación reciente de la Facultad de Medicina de Harvard calcula que el costo económico global de las lesiones causadas por armas de fuego en Estados Unidos asciende a $557,000 millones anuales. El 88% de ese monto se explica por la pérdida de calidad de vida de las personas heridas y sus familias. El estudio revela que, solo en el primer año, cada lesión no mortal por arma de fuego genera unos $30,000 de gastos de salud directos por superviviente.

Inmediatamente después de los tiroteos, mientras aparecían páginas como GoFundMe para ayudar a las víctimas, los ejecutivos de United Way of Greater Kansas City se reunieron para idear una respuesta colectiva de donación. Se les ocurrieron “tres círculos concéntricos de víctimas”, explicó Jessica Blubaugh, directora de Filantropía de United Way, y lanzaron la campaña #KCStrong.

“Obviamente, en el primer círculo estás las personas que sufrieron directamente el impacto de los disparos. En el siguiente círculo se encuentran los que sufrieron un impacto físico —no necesariamente de los disparos—, por ejemplo, personas que fueron pisoteadas o se rompieron un ligamento cuando estaban huyendo”, dijo Blubaugh. “Luego, en tercer lugar, están las personas que se encontraban en las inmediaciones y los transeúntes, que quedaron psicológicamente muy afectados”.

Estrés post traumático, pánico y el eco de los disparos

Bridget Barton regresó a Kansas City al día siguiente del tiroteo para entregar la bala que había encontrado en su mochila y declarar en la comisaría.

Ella no lo sabía, pero el alcalde Quinton Lucas y los jefes de policía y bomberos acababan de terminar una rueda de prensa fuera del edificio. Bridget fue acosada por los periodistas allí reunidos, entrevistas que ahora le resultan borrosas. “No sé cómo hacen esto todos los días”, recuerda que le dijo a un detective cuando por fin pudo entrar.

Mientras atraviesan el trauma, los Barton se han visto abrumados, al punto del agotamiento, por las buenas intenciones de amigos y familiares. Bridget usó las redes sociales para explicar que no ignoraba los mensajes pero que los iba respondiendo en la medida que podía. Algunos días apenas puedo mirar el teléfono, contó.

Una amiga de la familia compró nuevas mantas de Barbie para Gabriella y su amiga; las que llevaron al desfile se perdieron o estropearon. Bridget había intentado reemplazar ella misma las mantas en Walmart. Pero alguien la empujó accidentalmente y le dio un ataque de pánico. Así que abandonó el carrito y condujo de vuelta a casa.

“Estoy intentando controlar mi ansiedad”, cuenta Bridget. Eso significa que necesita terapia. Antes del desfile ya consultaba a un terapeuta y planeaba empezar la desensibilización y reprocesamiento por movimientos oculares, un método asociado al tratamiento del TEPT. Ahora, de lo primero que quiere hablar en terapia es del tiroteo.

Desde que Gabriella, alumna de 8vo grado, volvió a la escuela, tiene que lidiar con la inmadurez propia de la adolescencia: compañeros que la instan a superar lo ocurrido, que la señalan con el dedo o que incluso le dicen que debería haber sido ella la asesinada. Pero sus amigos la contienen y le preguntan cómo está. Le gustaría que más gente hiciera lo mismo con su amiga, que salió corriendo cuando empezó el tiroteo y así evitó que la hirieran. Gabriella se siente culpable por haberla llevado a lo que se convirtió en una experiencia aterradora.

“Podemos decirle todo el día: ‘No fue culpa tuya. No es tu responsabilidad’, lo mismo que yo me digo: ‘No fue culpa mía, ni mi responsabilidad'”, explica Bridget. “Pero igualmente lloré en el hombro de la madre de la otra niña diciéndole lo mucho que sentía haber agarrado primero a mi hija”.

Desde el tiroteo, las dos niñas han pasado mucho tiempo hablando. Según Gabriella, eso la ayuda a aliviar su propio estrés. También la alivia pasar tiempo con su perro y con su lagartija, maquillarse y escuchar música: la actuación del rapero Tech N9ne fue para ella un momento culminante de la celebración del Super Bowl.

Además de que las chispas le quemaron las piernas, en la estampida Gabriella cayó sobre el cemento y eso le reabrió una quemadura que tenía en el abdomen, causada por una plancha de pelo. “Cuando veo eso, me imagino a mi madre intentando protegerme y a todo el mundo corriendo”, dijo Gabriella.

Es difícil no sentirse olvidada por la gente, opina Bridget. El tiroteo, y especialmente sus sobrevivientes, han desaparecido en gran medida de los titulares excepto en las fechas de los juicios. Desde el desfile hubo otros dos tiroteos de gran repercusión en la zona. Y se pregunta si a la comunidad no le importa que ella y su familia sigan viviendo con las secuelas a diario.

“Voy a decirlo de la forma más clara posible. Estoy muy, pero muy enojada porque mi familia haya tenido que pasar por algo traumático”, se desahogaba Bridget en una reciente publicación en las redes sociales. “En realidad no quiero otra cosa [que]: ‘Tu historia también importa y queremos saber cómo te va’. ¿Lo hemos conseguido? Absolutamente no.”

¿Qué se necesita?

Ayudados en parte por famosos como Swift y Kelce, las donaciones para la familia de López-Galván, la única víctima mortal, y para otras víctimas llegaron en masa inmediatamente después del tiroteo. Swift y Kelce donaron $100,000 cada uno. Con la ayuda de un aporte inicial de $200,000 de los Kansas City Chiefs, la campaña #KCStrong de United Way alcanzó el millón de dólares en las dos primeras semanas y ahora llega a los $1,2 millones.

Se crearon seis fondos GoFundMe verificados. Uno, destinado exclusivamente a la familia López-Galván, ha recaudado más de $406,000. Otros más pequeños fueron creados por un estudiante universitario local y por fans de Swift. Las iglesias también se comprometieron y una coalición local recaudó $183,000, dinero destinado al funeral de López-Galván, a solventar la terapia para cinco víctimas y a pagar facturas médicas del hospital Children’s Mercy Kansas City, según dijo Ray Jarrett, director ejecutivo de Unite KC.

Los líderes de esta iniciativa encontraron modelos en otras ciudades. Blubaugh, de United Way, consultó a funcionarios e instituciones que habían tenido que dar respuesta a las víctimas de sus propios tiroteos masivos en Orlando (Florida), Buffalo (Nueva York) y Newtown (Connecticut).

“La desafortunada realidad es que en todo el país existen comunidades que ya se han enfrentado a tragedias como ésta, explicó Blubaugh. Así que lamentablemente hay un protocolo que, en cierto modo, ya está en marcha”.

A partir de que Blubaugh informó que el dinero de #KCStrong podría empezar a pagarse a finales de marzo, cientos de personas llamaron a la línea 211 de las organizaciones sin fines de lucro. United Way está consultando con los hospitales y las fuerzas del orden para identificar a las víctimas, y ofrecerles los servicios que puedan necesitar.

El abanico de necesidades es asombroso: varias personas siguen recuperándose en su casa, y otras necesitan apoyo emocional y psicológico. Muchas, al principio, ni siquiera fueron contabilizadas. Por ejemplo, un agente de policía que ese día vestía de civil y resultó herido. Según el jefe de policía Stacey Graves, ya se encuentra bien.

Determinar quién es elegible para recibir asistencia fue una de las primeras conversaciones que tuvieron los funcionarios de United Way cuando crearon el fondo. Y decidieron priorizar tres áreas: primero a los heridos y sus familias; segundo a servicios de salud mental y a organizaciones que ya estuvieran ayudando a las víctimas en prevención de la violencia, y en tercer lugar a los socorristas.

En concreto, los fondos se destinarán a cubrir los costos médicos o los salarios perdidos de quienes no hayan podido trabajar desde los tiroteos, explicó Blubaugh. Y agregó que si bien el objetivo es ayudar rápidamente a la gente también se debe utilizar el dinero de una manera juiciosa y estratégica.

“No tenemos una visión clara del panorama al que nos enfrentamos”, dijo Blubaugh. “No sólo no sabemos de cuánto dinero disponemos sino cuál es el panorama de las necesidades. Hacen falta ambas cosas para tomar decisiones”.

Experiencia de la violencia cotidiana en Kansas City

Jason utilizó el único día de licencia que le quedaba para quedarse en casa con Bridget y Gabriella. Como técnico de automatización nocturna, es el principal sostén de la familia. “No puedo faltar al trabajo, explicó.  Sucedió. Fue una porquería. Pero es hora de seguir adelante.”

“Es un hombre de verdad”, afirma Bridget.

La primera noche que Jason fue al trabajo, el ruido repentino de los platos al caer sobresaltó a Bridget y Gabriella, que se abrazaron llorando. “Son esos recuerdos los que nos están atormentando”, dijo Bridget, enojada.

En cierto modo, el tiroteo ha unido más a la familia que había pasado por muchas cosas recientemente: Jason sobrevivió a un ataque al corazón y a un cáncer el año pasado; y criar a un adolescente nunca es fácil.

Bridget agradece que la bala se alojara en su mochila y no la alcanzara, y que las chispas le hayan quemado las piernas a Gabriella pero que no le dispararan.

Jason está agradecido por otra razón: no ha sido un atentado terrorista, como temía al principio. En cambio, se trata del tipo de violencia armada a la que estaba acostumbrado porque creció en Kansas City, una ciudad que alcanzó su pico de muertes el año pasado. Aunque Jason nunca le había tocado tan de cerca.

“Esta basura ocurre todos los días, dijo. La única diferencia es que nosotros estábamos ahí para verlo”.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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In Celebration of 10 Years of ACA Marketplaces, the Biden-Harris Administration Releases Historic Enrollment Data

HHS Gov News - March 22, 2024
Under President Biden, over 45 million people have coverage thanks to the Affordable Care Act

California’s Expanded Health Coverage for Immigrants Collides With Medicaid Reviews

Kaiser Health News:Insurance - March 22, 2024

OAKLAND, Calif. — Medi-Cal health coverage kicked in for Antonio Abundis just when the custodian needed it most.

Shortly after Abundis transitioned from limited to full-scope coverage in 2022 under California’s expansion of Medi-Cal to older residents without legal immigration status, he was diagnosed with leukemia, a cancer affecting the blood cells. The soft-spoken father of three took the news in stride as his doctor said his blood test suggested his cancer wasn’t advanced. His next steps were to get more tests and formulate a treatment plan with a cancer team at Epic Care in Emeryville. But all of that was derailed when he showed up last July for bloodwork at La Clínica de La Raza in Oakland and was told he was no longer on Medi-Cal.

“They never sent me a letter or anything telling me that I was removed,” Abundis, now 63, said in Spanish about losing his insurance.

Abundis is among hundreds of thousands of Latinos who have been kicked off Medi-Cal, California’s Medicaid program for low-income people, as states resume annual eligibility checks that were paused at the height of the covid-19 pandemic. The redetermination process, as it is known, has disproportionately affected Latinos, who make up a majority of Medi-Cal beneficiaries. According to the California Department of Health Care Services, more than 653,000 of the more than 1.3 million residents who have been disenrolled over eight months identify as Latino. Some, including Abundis, had only recently gained coverage as the state expanded Medi-Cal to residents without legal residency.

The collision of state and federal policies has not only set off enrollee whiplash but swelled demand for enrollment assistance as people are dropped from Medi-Cal, often for procedural issues. Health groups serving Latino communities report being inundated by requests for help, but at the same time, a state-sponsored survey suggests Hispanic households are more likely than other ethnic or racial groups to lose coverage because they’re less knowledgeable of the renewal process. They may also struggle to advocate for themselves.

Some health advocates are pressing for a pause. They warn that disenrollments will not only undercut the state’s effort to reduce the number of uninsured but could exacerbate health disparities, particularly for an ethnic group that bore the brunt of the pandemic. One national study found that Latinos in the U.S. were three times as likely to contract covid and twice as likely to die of it than the general population, in part because they tend to live in more crowded or multigenerational households and work in front-line jobs.

“These difficulties place all of us as a community in this more fragile state where the safety net means even more now,” said Seciah Aquino, executive director of the Latino Coalition for a Healthy California, a health advocacy organization.

Assembly member Tasha Boerner, an Encinitas Democrat, has introduced a bill that would slow disenrollments by allowing people 19 and older to keep their coverage automatically for 12 months and extend flexible pandemic-era policies such as not requiring proof of income in certain cases for renewals. That would benefit Hispanics, who make up nearly 51% of the Medi-Cal population compared with 40% of the overall state population. The governor’s office said it does not comment on pending legislation.

Tony Cava, a spokesperson for the Department of Health Care Services, said in an email that the agency has taken steps to increase the number of people automatically reenrolled in Medi-Cal and does not consider a pause necessary. The disenrollment rate dropped 10% from November to December, Cava said.

Still, state officials acknowledge more could be done to help people complete their applications. “We’re still not reaching certain pockets,” said Yingjia Huang, assistant deputy director of health care benefits and eligibility at DHCS.

California was the first state to expand Medicaid eligibility to all qualified immigrants regardless of legal status, phasing it in over several years: children in 2016, young adults ages 19-26 in 2020, people 50 and older in 2022, and all remaining adults this year.

But California, like other states, resumed eligibility checks last April, and the process is expected to continue through May. The state is now seeing disenrollment rates return to pre-pandemic levels, or 19%-20% of the Medi-Cal population each year, according to DHCS.

Jane Garcia, CEO of La Clínica de La Raza, testified before the Alameda County Board of Supervisors’ health committee that disenrollments continue to pose a challenge just as her team tries to enroll newly eligible residents. “It’s a heck of a load on our staff,” she told supervisors in January.

Although many beneficiaries no longer qualify because their incomes rose, more have been dropped from the rolls for failing to respond to notices or return paperwork. Often, renewal packets were sent to old addresses. Many find out they’ve lost coverage only upon seeking medical care.

“They knew something was happening,” said Janet Anwar, eligibility manager at Tiburcio Vasquez Health Center in the East Bay. “They didn’t know exactly what it was, how it was gonna affect them until actually the day came and they were disenrolled. And they were getting checked in or scheduling an appointment, then, ‘Hey, you lost your coverage.’”

But reenrollment is a challenge. A state-sponsored survey published Feb. 12 by the California Health Care Foundation found 30% of Hispanic households tried but were unable to complete a renewal form, compared with 19% for white non-Hispanic households. And 43% of Hispanics reported they would like to restart Medi-Cal but did not know how, versus 32% of people in white non-Hispanic households. 

The Abundis family is among those who don’t know where to get their questions answered. Though Abundis’ wife submitted the family’s Medi-Cal renewal paperwork in October, his wife and two children who still live with them were able to maintain coverage; Abundis was the only one dropped. He hasn’t received an explanation for being disenrolled nor been notified how to appeal or reapply. Now he worries he may not qualify on his own based on his roughly $36,000 annual income since the limit is $20,121 for an individual but $41,400 for a family of four.

It is likely an eligibility worker could check if he and his family qualify as a household or assist him with signing up for a private plan that can run less than $10 a month for premiums on Covered California. The health insurance exchange allows for special enrollment when people lose Medi-Cal or employer-based coverage. But Abundis assumes he won’t be able to afford premiums or copays, so he hasn’t applied.

Abundis, who first visited a doctor in May 2022 about unrelenting fatigue, constant pain in his back and knees, shortness of breath, and unexplained weight loss, worries he’s unable to afford medical care. La Clínica de La Raza, the community health clinic where he received blood testing, worked with him that day so he didn’t have to pay upfront, but he has since stopped seeking medical care.

More than a year after his diagnosis, Abundis still doesn’t know which stage cancer he has, or what his treatment plan should be. Though early cancer detection can lead to a higher chance of survival, some types of leukemia advance quickly. Without further testing, Abundis does not know his outlook.

“I’ve mentally prepared,” Abundis said of his cancer. “What happens, happens.”

Even those who seek help run into challenges. Marisol, a 53-year-old immigrant from Mexico who lives in Richmond, California, without legal permission, tried to reestablish coverage for months. Although the state saw a 26% drop in disenrollments from December to January, the share of Latinos disenrolled during that period remained nearly the same, suggesting they face more barriers to renewal.

Marisol, who requested her last name be withheld out of fear of deportation, also qualified for full-scope Medi-Cal during the state expansion to all immigrants 50 and older.

She received a packet in December letting her know that her household income exceeded Medi-Cal’s threshold — something she believed was an error. Marisol’s husband is out of work due to a back injury, she said, and her two children primarily support their family with part-time jobs at Ross Dress for Less.

That month, Marisol visited a Richmond branch office of the Contra Costa County Employment and Human Services Department, hoping to speak to an eligibility worker. Instead, she was told to leave her paperwork and to call a phone number to check her application status. Since then, she made numerous calls and spent hours on hold, but has not been able to speak with anyone.

County officials acknowledged longer wait times due to increased calls and said the average wait time is 30 minutes. “We understand community members’ frustration when they have difficulty getting through at times,” spokesperson Tish Gallegos wrote in an email. Gallegos noted the call center increases staffing during peak hours.

After El Tímpano reached out to the county for comment, Marisol said she was contacted by an eligibility worker, who explained that her family was dropped because their children had filed taxes separately, so the Medi-Cal system determined their eligibility individually rather than as one household. The county reinstated Marisol and her family on March 15.

Marisol said regaining Medi-Cal was a joyous but bittersweet ending to a months-long struggle, especially knowing that other people get dropped for procedural issues. “Sadly, there has to be pressure for them to fix something,” she said.

Jasmine Aguilera of El Tímpano is participating in the Journalism & Women Symposium’s Health Journalism Fellowship, supported by The Commonwealth Fund. Vanessa Flores, Katherine Nagasawa, and Hiram Alejandro Durán of El Tímpano contributed to this article.

Medi-Cal Resources (in Spanish):

How to apply for Medi-Cal

How to get insurance and low-cost health care in California

How to apply for Covered California

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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This story can be republished for free (details).

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