In Terre Haute, Ind., two rival hospitals want to merge, a move that supporters say will save patients money and help people live longer.

But similar hospital consolidations in Tennessee, Virginia and North Carolina have resulted in government reports documenting diminished care.

In more than a dozen states, certificates of public advantage (COPAs) permit deals like the one on the table in Indiana, even though the Federal Trade Commission otherwise considers them illegal because they reduce competition. As a result, the FTC has warned states to avoid COPAs and the mergers they create.

In Terre Haute, state regulators will decide whether to allow Union Hospital to purchase the surrounding county’s only other acute care facility, Terre Haute Regional Hospital. The merger would be the first deal under the state’s 2021 COPA law. Aside from the FTC’s concerns about the anti-competitive nature of these deals, there’s another, potentially bigger question: Does allowing hospitals to combine forces improve patient care?

The largest COPA-created hospital system in the country, Tennessee-based Ballad Health, has reported that the time patients spend in its ERs in Virginia and Tennessee before being hospitalized has more than tripled, reaching nearly 11 hours, in the six years since that monopoly of 20 hospitals formed.

The FTC has been closely examining the effects mergers have on prices, quality and even employee wages. In 2019, the FTC ordered multiple insurers and COPA-created health systems, including Ballad, to turn over information. The FTC declined to provide an update on the status of its findings.

To mitigate the negative effects of a monopoly, merged hospitals typically agree to conditions imposed by state regulators. Still, Tennessee has awarded Ballad top marks even when certain quality metrics, including its ER speed, fall below its established benchmarks.

Ballad Health spokesperson Molly Luton said the system’s performance has improved since statistics were collected for its 2023 fiscal year, which ended June 30, 2023, and that ER wait times have shortened.

COPA arrangements have also led to fallout in nearby North Carolina. When the state repealed its 2015 COPA law, it removed state oversight of Asheville’s Mission Health system, which was required as part of the merger. That meant the local monopoly remained but none of the COPA’s conditions applied when a subsidiary of HCA Healthcare bought the system for $1.5 billion in 2019.

Last year, government inspectors found “deficiencies” at Mission Health that contributed to four patient deaths and posed an “immediate jeopardy” to patients’ health and safety, according to the 384-page federal inspection report.

North Carolina Attorney General Joshua Stein sued HCA’s subsidiary, alleging that the ER was “significantly degraded” and that the company did not maintain certain critical services, including oncology care, a violation of a purchase agreement Stein’s office negotiated because the company acquired a nonprofit.

HCA said it promptly addressed the issues found in the inspections and denied Stein’s allegations in its response to the ongoing lawsuit, arguing that it has expanded services. HCA also contended the agreement is silent about maintaining the quality of care.

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If you or someone you know may be experiencing a mental health crisis, contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by dialing or texting “988.”

For the most part, Cori Lint was happy.

She worked days as a software engineer and nights as a part-time cellist, filling her free hours with inline skating and gardening and long talks with friends. But a few days a month, Lint’s mood would tank. Panic attacks came on suddenly. Suicidal thoughts did, too.

She had been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, but Lint, 34, who splits her time between St. Petersburg, Florida, and Tulsa, Oklahoma, struggled to understand her experience, a rift so extreme she felt like two different people.

“When I felt better, it was like I was looking back at the experience of someone else, and that was incredibly confusing,” Lint said.

Then, in 2022, clarity pierced through. Her symptoms, she realized, were cyclical. Lint recognized a pattern in something her doctors hadn’t considered: her period.

For decades, a lack of investment in women’s health has created gaps in medicine. The problem is so prevalent that, this year, President Joe Biden signed an executive order to advance women’s health research and innovation.

Women are less likely than men to get early diagnoses for conditions from heart disease to cancer, studies have found, and they are more likely to have their medical concerns dismissed or misdiagnosed. Because disorders specifically affecting women have long been understudied, much remains unknown about causes and treatments.

That’s especially true when it comes to the effects of menstruation on mental health.

When Lint turned to the internet for answers, she learned about a debilitating condition at the intersection of mental and reproductive health.

Sounds like me, she thought.

What Is PMDD?

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder, or PMDD, is a negative reaction in the brain to natural hormonal changes in the week or two before a menstrual period. Symptoms are severe and can include irritability, anxiety, depression, and sudden mood swings. Others include fatigue, joint and muscle pain, and changes to appetite and sleep patterns, with symptoms improving once bleeding begins.

Unlike the mild discomfort of premenstrual syndrome, or PMS, the effects of premenstrual dysphoric disorder are life-altering. Those afflicted, according to one estimate, can endure almost four years of disability, cumulatively, over their lives.

Though researchers estimate that the dysphoric disorder affects around 5% of people who menstruate — about the same percentage of women with diabetes — the condition remains relatively unknown, even among health care providers.

In a 2022 survey of PMDD patients published in the Journal of Women’s Health, more than a third of participants said their family doctors had little knowledge of the premenstrual disorder or how to treat it. About 40% said the same was true of their mental health therapists.

Reproductive mental health has been sidelined as a specialty, said Jaclyn Ross, a clinical psychologist who researches premenstrual disorders as associate director of the CLEAR Lab at the University of Illinois-Chicago. Only some health care providers get training or even become aware of such disorders, Ross said.

“If you’re not considering the menstrual cycle, you’re at risk of misdiagnosing and missing what’s actually going on,” Ross said.

That was the case for Tampa, Florida, resident Jenna Tingum, 25, who had panic attacks and suicidal thoughts as a premed student at the University of Florida. It wasn’t until her college girlfriend read about PMDD online and noticed Tingum’s symptoms flared in the days leading up to her period that Tingum talked with her gynecologist.

“I don’t think I would have ever put the pieces together,” Tingum said.

Suicide Risk and Treatment

Because few researchers study the condition, the cause of PMDD is something of an enigma, and treatments remain limited.

It wasn’t until 2013 that the disorder was added to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, the handbook used by medical professionals in the U.S. to diagnose psychiatric conditions. PMDD was officially recognized by the World Health Organization in 2019, though references in medical literature date to the 1960s.

Defining the disorder as a medical condition faced early pushback from some feminist groups wary of giving credibility to stereotypes about PMS and periods. But Ross said patients must be taken seriously.

In one study, 72% of respondents with the disorder said they’d had suicidal thoughts in their lifetime. And 34% said they had attempted suicide, compared with 3% of the general population.

Marybeth Bohn lost her daughter, Christina Bohn, to suicide in 2021. It was only in the months before her death at age 33 that Christina connected her extreme distress to her cycle — no doctors had asked, Bohn said. Now Bohn, who lives in Columbia, Missouri, works with medical and nursing schools around the country to change curricula and encourage doctors to ask people in mental health emergencies about their premenstrual symptoms and cycles.

“We need more research to understand how and why these reactions to hormones occur,” Ross said. “There’s so much work to be done.”

While doctors haven’t settled on a universal approach to address the symptoms, three main treatments have emerged, said Rachel Carpenter, medical director of reproductive psychiatry at the University of Florida–Jacksonville College of Medicine.

Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, the most common form of antidepressants, are a first line of attack, Carpenter said. Some patients take the medication regularly; others in just the week or two that symptoms occur.

For some patients, hormonal birth control can alleviate symptoms by controlling or preventing the release of certain hormones.

Finally, talk therapy and cycle awareness can help patients build mental resilience for difficult weeks.

Sandi MacDonald, who co-founded the International Association for Premenstrual Disorders, a leading resource for patients and clinicians, said peer support is available through the nonprofit, but funding for research and education remains elusive.

She hopes the new White House initiative on advancing women’s health research will open doors.

Let’s Talk About Periods

Both Lint and Tingum, who were diagnosed by medical professionals after learning about the disorder on their own, said a lack of conversation around periods contributed to their care being delayed.

Lint doesn’t remember talking much about periods in grade school; they were often the butt of a joke, used to dismiss women.

“For the longest time, I thought, ‘Well, this happens to everyone, right?’” Lint said of her symptoms. “Has a doctor ever asked me what my symptoms are like? No, absolutely not. But we’re talking about a quarter or more of my life.”

Brett Buchert, a former University of Florida athlete who took time away from campus because her symptoms were so severe, said that when doctors do ask questions, it can feel like boxes being checked: “The conversation ends there.”

Buchert, who graduated with a degree in psychology and now lives in Boulder, Colorado, said understanding what’s happening to her and being aware of her cycle has helped her manage her condition.

Lint and Tingum agreed.

Even as Lint struggles to find a medicine that brings relief, tracking her cycle has allowed her to plan around her symptoms, she said. She makes fewer commitments in the week before her period. She carves out more time for self-care.

She’s also found solace in reading stories of others living with the condition, she said.

“It’s helped me process the extremes,” Lint said. “There’s not something wrong with me as an individual. I’m not crazy; this is something that’s legitimately happening to me. It helps to know I’m not alone.”

This article was produced through a partnership between KFF Health News and 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.

This story can be republished for free (details).

What weighs most heavily on older adults’ minds when it comes to health care?

The cost of services and therapies, and their ability to pay.

“It’s on our minds a whole lot because of our age and because everything keeps getting more expensive,” said Connie Colyer, 68, of Pleasureville, Kentucky. She’s a retired forklift operator who has lung disease and high blood pressure. Her husband, James, 70, drives a dump truck and has a potentially dangerous irregular heart rhythm.

Tens of millions of seniors are similarly anxious about being able to afford health care because of its expense and rising costs for housing, food, and other essentials.

A new wave of research highlights the reach of these anxieties. When the University of Michigan’s National Poll on Healthy Aging asked people 50 and older about 26 health-related issues, their top three areas of concern had to do with costs: of medical care in general, of long-term care, and of prescription drugs. More than half of 3,300 people surveyed in February and March reported being “very concerned” about these issues.

In fact, five of the top 10 issues identified as very concerning were cost-related. Beyond the top three, people cited the cost of health insurance and Medicare (52%), and the cost of dental care (45%). Financial scams and fraud came in fourth place (53% very concerned). Of much less concern were issues that receive considerable attention, including social isolation, obesity, and age discrimination.

In an election year, “our poll sends a very clear message that older adults are worried about the cost of health care and will be looking to candidates to discuss what they have done or plan to do to contain those costs,” said John Ayanian, director of the University of Michigan’s Institute for Healthcare Policy and Innovation.

Older adults have good reason to worry. One in 10 seniors (about 6 million people) have incomes below the federal poverty level. About 1 in 4 rely exclusively on Social Security payments, which average $1,913 a month per person.

Even though inflation has moderated since its 2022 peak, prices haven’t come down, putting a strain on seniors living on fixed incomes.

Meanwhile, traditional Medicare doesn’t cover several services that millions of older adults need, such as dental care, vision care, or help at home from aides. While private Medicare Advantage plans offer some coverage for these services, benefits are frequently limited.

All of this contributes to a health care affordability squeeze for older adults. Recently published research from the Commonwealth Fund’s 2023 Health Care Affordability Survey found that nearly a third of people 65 or older reported difficulty paying for health care expenses, including premiums for Medicare, medications, and expenses associated with receiving medical services.

One in 7 older adults reported spending a quarter or more of their average monthly budget on health care; 44% spent between 10% and 24%. Seventeen percent said they or a family member had forgone needed care in the past year for financial reasons.

The Colyers in Pleasureville are among them. Both need new dentures and eyeglasses, but they can’t afford to pay thousands of dollars out-of-pocket, Connie said.

“As the cost of living rises for basic necessities, it’s more difficult for lower-income and middle-income Medicare beneficiaries to afford the health care they need,” said Gretchen Jacobson, vice president of the Medicare program at the Commonwealth Fund. Similarly, “when health care costs rise, it’s more difficult to afford basic necessities.”

This is especially worrisome because older adults are more prone to illness and disability than younger adults, resulting in a greater need for care and higher expenses. In 2022, seniors on Medicare spent $7,000 on medical services, compared with $4,900 for people without Medicare.

Not included in this figure is the cost of assisted living or long-term stays in nursing homes, which Medicare also doesn’t cover. According to Genworth’s latest survey, the median annual cost of a semiprivate room in a nursing home was $104,000 in 2023, while assisted living came to $64,200, and a week’s worth of services from home-health aides averaged $75,500.

Many older adults simply can’t afford to pay for these long-term care options or other major medical expenses out-of-pocket.

“Seventeen million older adults have incomes below 200% of the federal poverty level,” said Tricia Neuman, executive director of the Program on Medicare Policy for KFF. (That’s $30,120 for a single-person household in 2024; $40,880 for a two-person household.) “For people living on that income, the risk of a major expense is very scary.”

How to deal with unanticipated expenses in the future is a question that haunts Connie Colyer. Her monthly premiums for Medicare Parts B and D, and a Medigap supplemental policy come to nearly $468, or 42% of her $1,121 monthly income from Social Security.

With a home mortgage of $523 a month, and more than $150 in monthly copayments for her inhalers and her husband’s heart medications, “we wouldn’t make it if my husband wasn’t still working,” she told me. (James’ monthly Social Security payment is $1,378. His premiums are similar to Connie’s and his income fluctuates based on the weather. In the first five months of this year, it approached $10,000, Connie told me.)

The couple makes too much to qualify for programs that help older adults afford Medicare out-of-pocket costs. As many as 6 million people are eligible but not enrolled in these Medicare Savings Programs. Those with very low incomes may also qualify for dual coverage by Medicaid and Medicare or other types of assistance with household costs, such as food stamps.

Older adults can check their eligibility for these and other programs by contacting their local Area Agency on Agency, State Health Insurance Assistance Program, or benefits enrollment center. Enter your ZIP code at the Eldercare Locator and these and other organizations helping seniors locally will come up.

Persuading older adults to step forward and ask for help often isn’t easy. Angela Zeek, health and government benefits manager at Legal Aid of the Bluegrass in Kentucky, said many seniors in her area don’t want to be considered poor or unable to pay their bills, a blow to their pride. “What we try to say is, ‘You’ve worked hard all your life, you’ve paid your taxes. You’ve given back to this government so there’s nothing wrong with the government helping you out a bit.’”

And the unfortunate truth is there’s very little, if any, help available for seniors who aren’t poor but have modest financial resources. While the need for new dental, vision, and long-term care benefits for older adults is widely acknowledged, “the question is always how to pay for it,” said Neuman of KFF.

This will become an even bigger issue in the coming years because of the burgeoning aging population.

There is some relief on the horizon, however: Assistance with Medicare drug costs is available through the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act, although many older adults don’t realize it yet. The act allows Medicare to negotiate the price of prescription drugs for the first time. This year, out-of-pocket costs for medications will be limited to a maximum $3,800 for most beneficiaries. Next year, a $2,000 cap on out-of-pocket drug costs will take effect.

“We’re already seeing people who’ve had very high drug costs in the past save thousands of dollars this year,” said Frederic Riccardi, president of the Medicare Rights Center. “And next year, it’s going to get even better.”

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.

This story can be republished for free (details).

En los últimos dos años, una solicitud simple pero desconcertante ha precedido la mayoría de mis encuentros con profesionales médicos: “Califique su dolor en una escala del cero al 10”.

Me formé como médica y he hecho esta misma pregunta a los pacientes miles de veces, así que pienso mucho en cómo cuantificar la suma de caderas doloridas, muslos punzantes y el dolor adormecedor cerca de mi omóplato izquierdo. Hago una pausa y luego, generalmente de manera arbitraria, elijo un número. “¿Tres o cuatro?”, aventuro, sabiendo que la respuesta real es larga, complicada e imposible de medir de esta manera unidimensional.

El dolor es algo escurridizo. A veces es ardiente, a veces perforante, a veces oprime profundo en los músculos. El mío puede depender de mi estado de ánimo o de cuánto le preste atención, y puede “desaparecer” casi por completo si estoy concentrada en una película o tarea.

El dolor también puede ser lo suficientemente incapacitante como para cancelar vacaciones, o tan abrumador que vuelve a las personas adictas a los opioides. Incluso el dolor de 10+ puede ser soportable cuando se tolera por una buena razón, como dar a luz.

Pero, ¿cuál es el propósito de los dolores que tengo ahora, efectos persistentes de una lesión en la cabeza?

El concepto de reducir estos matices del dolor a un solo número data de la década de 1970. Pero hoy en día la escala del cero a 10 parece vetusta debido a lo que se llamó una “revolución del dolor” en los años 90, cuando la nueva forma de abordar el dolor —principalmente con opioides— se presentó como un progreso.

Los médicos de hoy tienen una comprensión más completa del tratamiento del dolor, así como de las terribles consecuencias de recetar opioides con liviandad. Lo que están aprendiendo ahora es cómo medir mejor el dolor y tratar sus muchas formas.

Hace unos 30 años, los médicos que defendían el uso de opioides dieron nueva vida a lo que había sido hasta el momento una especialidad marginal: la gestión del dolor. Comenzaron a promover la idea de que el dolor debería medirse en cada cita como un “quinto signo vital”. La Sociedad Americana del Dolor llegó a registrar la frase. Pero a diferencia de los otros signos vitales —presión arterial, temperatura, frecuencia cardíaca y frecuencia respiratoria— el dolor no tenía una escala objetiva.

¿Cómo medir lo inmensurable?

La sociedad alentó a los médicos y enfermeras a usar el sistema de calificación de cero a 10. Alrededor de esa época, la Administración de Drogas y Alimentos (FDA) aprobó OxyContin, un analgésico opioide de liberación lenta fabricado por Purdue Pharma.

El propio fabricante de medicamentos instó a los médicos a registrar y tratar el dolor de manera rutinaria, y promovió agresivamente los opioides como una solución obvia. Para ser justos, en una época en la que el dolor a menudo se ignoraba o se trataba de manera insuficiente, el sistema de calificación de cero a 10 podría considerarse un avance.

Las bombas de morfina no estaban disponibles para aquellos pacientes con cáncer que vi en los años 80, incluso aquellos con un dolor agonizante por cáncer en los huesos; los médicos consideraban el dolor como una parte inevitable de la enfermedad. En la sala de emergencias donde trabajé a principios de los 90, recetar incluso unas pocas píldoras de opioides era un inconveniente: requería pedirle a la enfermera jefe que desbloqueara un recetario especial y hacer una copia para la agencia estatal que rastreaba los patrones de prescripción.

Los reguladores (con razón) se preocupaban de que repartir narcóticos llevara a la adicción. Como resultado, algunos pacientes necesitados de alivio probablemente se quedaron sin él.

Después que los médicos del dolor y los fabricantes de opioides hicieran campaña para un uso más amplio de estas drogas — alegando que las formas más nuevas no eran adictivas, o mucho menos que las formulaciones anteriores — recetar los medicamentos se volvió mucho más fácil y se promovieron para todo tipo de dolor, ya sea una artritis de rodilla o problemas de espalda.

Como joven médica que se unía a la “revolución del dolor”, probablemente les pregunté a los pacientes miles de veces que calificaran su dolor en una escala de cero a 10 y escribí muchas recetas cada semana para medicamentos para el dolor, ya que monitorear “el quinto signo vital” se volvió rápidamente rutinario en el sistema médico.

Con el tiempo, la medición del dolor de cero a 10 se convirtió en caja necesaria para llenar en los registros médicos electrónicos. La Commission on the Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations hizo que evaluar el dolor regularmente fuera un requisito previo para que los centros médicos recibieran dólares federales de atención médica.

Los grupos médicos agregaron el tratamiento del dolor a su lista de derechos de los pacientes, y la satisfacción con el tratamiento del dolor se convirtió en un componente de las encuestas de pacientes posteriores a la cita médica. (Una mala calificación podría significar un menor reembolso por parte de algunos aseguradoras).

Pero este enfoque para la gestión del dolor tenía claros inconvenientes. Estudios revelaban que medir el dolor de los pacientes no resultaba en un mejor control del dolor. Los médicos mostraban poco interés en, o no sabían cómo responder a la respuesta registrada. Y que los pacientes estuvieran satisfechos con discutir su dolor con el médico no significaba necesariamente que recibieran un tratamiento adecuado.

Al mismo tiempo, los medicamentos estaban alimentando la creciente epidemia de opioides. La investigación mostró que se estimaba que entre el 3% y el 19% de las personas que recibían una receta de medicamentos para el dolor desarrollaban una adicción.

Sin embargo, los médicos que querían tratar el dolor tenían pocas otras opciones. “Teníamos un buen sentido de que estos medicamentos no eran la única forma de manejar el dolor”, me dijo Linda Porter, directora de la Oficina de Políticas y Planificación del Dolor de los Institutos Nacionales de Salud. “Pero no teníamos una buena comprensión de la complejidad o las alternativas”.

El entusiasmo por los narcóticos dejó muchas variedades de dolor sin explorar y sin tratar durante años.

Solo en 2018, un año en que casi 50,000 estadounidenses murieron por una sobredosis, el Congreso comenzó a financiar un programa —la Red de Investigación Clínica de la Fase Temprana del Dolor, o EPPIC-Net— diseñado para explorar tipos de dolor y encontrar mejores soluciones. La red conecta especialistas en 12 centros clínicos académicos especializados y está destinada a iniciar nuevas investigaciones en este campo y encontrar soluciones a medida para diferentes tipos de dolor.

Una escala de cero a 10 puede tener sentido en ciertas situaciones, como cuando una enfermera la usa para ajustar la dosis de medicación para un paciente hospitalizado después de una cirugía o un accidente. Y los investigadores y especialistas en dolor han intentado crear mejores herramientas de calificación — docenas, de hecho, ninguna de las cuales fue adecuada para capturar la complejidad del dolor, concluyó un panel de expertos europeos.

Por ejemplo, la Administración de Salud de Veteranos creó una que tenía preguntas adicionales e indicaciones visuales: una calificación de 5 se correlacionaba con un ceño fruncido y un nivel de dolor que “interrumpe algunas actividades”. La encuesta tardaba mucho más y producía resultados que no eran mejores que el sistema de cero a 10.

Para la década de 2010, muchas organizaciones médicas, incluida la Asociación Médica Estadounidense y la Academia Estadounidense de Médicos de Familia, estaban rechazando no solo la escala de cero a 10, sino toda la noción de que un paciente podía informar su dolor de manera numérica y significativa.

En los años en que los opioides habían dominado los remedios para el dolor, algunos medicamentos — como la gabapentina y la pregabalina para la neuropatía, y los parches y cremas de lidocaína para los dolores musculoesqueléticos — estaban disponibles.

“Había una creciente conciencia de la increíble complejidad del dolor, y de que tendrías que encontrar los medicamentos adecuados para los pacientes adecuados”, me dijo Rebecca Hommer, directora interina de EPPIC-Net.

Los investigadores ahora están buscando biomarcadores asociados con diferentes tipos de dolor para que los estudios de medicamentos puedan usar medidas más objetivas para evaluar sus efectos. Una mejor comprensión de las vías neurales y los neurotransmisores que crean diferentes tipos de dolor también podría ayudar a los investigadores a diseñar medicamentos para interrumpirlos y domesticarlos.

Es poco probable que cualquier tratamiento que surja de esta investigación sea un éxito de taquilla como los opioides; por diseño, serán útiles para menos personas. Eso también los hace prospectos menos atractivos para las compañías farmacéuticas.

Así que EPPIC-Net está ayudando a pequeños laboratorios, académicos e incluso a médicos individuales a diseñar y realizar ensayos en etapa temprana para probar la seguridad y eficacia de moléculas prometedoras para aliviar el dolor.

Esa información se entregará a las farmacéuticas para ensayos en etapa tardía, todo con el objetivo de obtener nuevos medicamentos aprobados por la FDA más rápidamente. Los primeros ensayos de EPPIC-Net están comenzando. Encontrar mejores tratamientos no será una tarea fácil, porque el sistema nervioso es un universo en gran parte inexplorado de moléculas, células y conexiones eléctricas.

El Premio Nobel de Fisiología o Medicina 2021 fue para los científicos que descubrieron los mecanismos que nos permiten sentir las sensaciones más básicas: el frío y el calor. En comparación, el dolor es una hidra, un monstruo de muchas cabezas. Un simple número puede parecer definitivo. Pero no ayuda a nadie a que el dolor desaparezca.

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.

This story can be republished for free (details).

JACKSON, Miss. — Jerrian Reedy was 9 when his father was admitted to the hospital in Hattiesburg, about two hours northeast of New Orleans, after sustaining three gunshot wounds. Reedy recalled visiting his dad in the intensive care unit that summer in 2009, even though children weren’t typically permitted in that part of the hospital.

“Just seeing him laid up in bed, in a hospital bed, it was traumatizing, to say the least,” Reedy said.

His father died within a week of being admitted, in the middle of a nine-month span when Reedy also lost an aunt and a grandmother. “They say death comes in threes,” he said.

That chain of events prompted him to pursue a career in medicine, one that might help him spare other children from losing loved ones too soon.

Fifteen years later, Reedy has completed his first year at the University of Mississippi School of Medicine — a remarkable feat, and not only because his career path was born of grief and trauma. Reedy is among a small share of Black medical school students in a state where nearly 4 in 10 people — but only 1 in 10 doctors — identify as Black or African American. Of the 660 medical school students enrolled in the same four-year program as Reedy, 82 students, or about 12%, are Black.

Medical schools around the country are trying to recruit Black, Hispanic, and Native American students, all of whom remain disproportionately underrepresented in the field of medicine. Research has shown that patients of color prefer seeing doctors of their own race — and some studies have shown health outcomes are better for Black patients seeing Black doctors.

But a recent swell of Republican opposition threatens to upend those efforts, school administrators say, and could exacerbate deep health disparities already experienced by people of color.

Since 2023 — the year the Supreme Court voted to outlaw affirmative action in higher education — more than two dozen states, including Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, North Carolina, and Texas, have introduced or passed laws to restrict or ban diversity, equity, and inclusion, or DEI, programs.

“I don’t expect this movement of anti-DEI legislation to slow down or stop at all,” said Anton Gunn, a health care consultant and former head of the Office of External Affairs at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. “And it likely will exacerbate if Donald Trump gets the opportunity to be president of the United States again.”

Diversity Programs Face Pushback

In 2023, Florida and Texas became the first states to pass laws that banned DEI efforts in higher education. Several other states, including Idaho, North Carolina, and Wyoming, passed laws targeting such programs this year.

In Mississippi, state Rep. Becky Currie and state Sen. Angela Burks Hill, both Republicans, introduced separate bills that would have restricted how colleges and universities could spend money on DEI initiatives. Both bills died in legislative committees and were not brought before the 2024 legislature for a vote.

In a statement, Hill said that Mississippi needs more doctors of all kinds, not just more Black doctors, and that she thinks money spent on DEI salaries and programs should be reallocated to initiatives benefiting all students.

“Qualifications should determine who gets into medical school not color or socioeconomic status,” she said. “Can’t we just be happy with more highly qualified doctors no matter their skin color? I thought a color blind society was the goal.”

Nationally, the movement to ban DEI programs has broad conservative support.

Jay Greene, a senior research fellow at the Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank, said he believes diversity programs “fail for a hundred reasons.” He cited research he conducted with a conservative medical advocacy group called Do No Harm refuting the premise that access to Black doctors improves health outcomes among Black patients.

“That doesn’t mean there’s no potential benefits for having greater diversity in the doctor workforce,” Greene said. Having more Black doctors, for example, might encourage more Black children to consider a career in health care, he said. “But that benefit is not health outcomes.”

Meanwhile, school administrators are closely watching the progress of such laws.

In March, the University of Florida eliminated all DEI programs and terminated jobs related to those efforts. In Alabama, lawyers and school leaders are grappling with a bill signed the same month by Republican Gov. Kay Ivey that bans DEI programs in public schools, state agencies, and universities starting Oct. 1.

“We have to be very, very careful,” said Richard deShazo, who teaches at the University of Alabama’s Marnix E. Heersink School of Medicine in Birmingham and used to chair a committee that raised money for Black medical school students.

“You cannot raise money for Black kids. You have to raise money for medical students,” he said.

A Bitter History

A shortage of Black doctors isn’t unique to Mississippi. The same story could be told in many other places, especially across the South, where more than half of all Black Americans live and where health outcomes regularly rank among the worst in the United States.

But a look at Mississippi, one of the unhealthiest states in the country, shows how the roots of systemic racism continue to shape the nation’s health care workforce.

“A lot of the Black physicians in the state have a bitter taste in their mouth about our medical school,” said Demondes Haynes, associate dean of medical school admissions at the University of Mississippi Medical Center, where he graduated in 1999 as one of four Black students in his class.

An estimated 1.1 million Black people live in Mississippi, where there are fewer than 600 Black doctors. Research suggests health outcomes would improve if there were more. One study published last year in the medical journal JAMA Network Open found that life expectancy was longer among Black patients in counties with higher ratios of Black primary care physicians.

In a study based in Oakland, California, that involved more than 1,300 Black men, those who were assigned a Black doctor were more likely to agree to screening tests for diabetes, cholesterol, and other health concerns, according to the findings published in 2018 by the National Bureau of Economic Research.

“We absolutely are not saying every Black patient has to have a Black doctor,” Haynes said. But because the patient population in Mississippi is diverse, “they should at least have the right to say, ‘This is what I want,’” he added.

However, most Black patients aren’t afforded that choice. Nearly two dozen of Mississippi’s 82 counties have no Black doctors, while four counties claim no doctors at all, according to a physician workforce report published by the state in 2019.

For more than a century, dating to its founding in the mid-1800s, the University of Mississippi didn’t admit Black students — and that policy applied to its medical school. In 1972, nearly 10 years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 banned racial segregation in higher education, the first Black physician graduated from the medical school in Jackson. Even then, very few Black students were admitted to study medicine there each year.

Before the federal government banned the school from rejecting Black applicants because of their race, aspiring Black doctors who applied were diverted to one of the historically Black colleges and universities, or HBCUs, such as Meharry Medical College in Nashville, Haynes said.

Many older Black physicians in Mississippi still remember getting those rejection letters, he said, pointing out composite photographs of physician graduates that line the walls of the medical school building in Jackson. Many of the earliest composites, dating to the 1950s, showcase classes of all-white, and almost all-male, students.

“Mississippi history — everybody remembers it,” Haynes said. “And those people who experienced it, it’s hard for them.”

‘Shaping the Possibilities’

On a damp Saturday morning in mid-April, 17-year-old Dorothy Gray, a high school junior, stepped up to a hospital bed at the medical school in Jackson to intubate a mock patient in a simulation lab.

Gray was one of more than 100 high school and college students who attended the University of Mississippi School of Medicine’s annual African American Visit Day, established more than 10 years ago to foster interest among prospective Black students. The administrators, who also host special visiting days for Hispanic and Native American students, said anyone, regardless of race or ethnicity, may attend. They acknowledge that most attendees won’t become doctors, and their purpose isn’t to extend preferential treatment to minority applicants.

“This is about shaping the possibilities of what could be,” said Loretta Jackson-Williams, the school’s vice dean for medical education. “These kids are at that precipice where they can choose to do something that’s really hard for their future or they can choose an easier pathway. That choice doesn’t come about overnight.”

Besides African American Visit Day, medical school leaders in Mississippi also offer a test prep program for applicants from underrepresented backgrounds who have been rejected from medical school.

The school recently identified 16 applicants, 12 of whom are Black, who were not accepted to the medical school during the last admissions cycle because their MCAT scores were too low. This year, those applicants will receive a test prep course designed by The Princeton Review — free of charge — and will have a chance to meet with administrators to learn how their medical school applications might be strengthened.

“So many students have never had someone tell them, ‘You can do this. I believe you can do this,’” said Dan Coleman, the medical school’s outreach director.

For Jerrian Reedy, who wants to become an orthopedic surgeon, the path to medical school was years in the making. He took advantage of the University of Mississippi Medical Center’s PROMISE program — short for Promoting Recruitment Opportunities in Medicine with Individual Study Experiences — which assures acceptance to students from disadvantaged backgrounds who meet certain eligibility requirements, including a 3.0 GPA in their undergraduate science classes.

During his sophomore year as an undergraduate, Reedy saw an opportunity to learn more about medical school when Haynes, the assistant dean, visited the Ole Miss campus in Oxford to interview students.

“I saw some open slots, put my name down,” he said. “The rest is history.”

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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Over the past two years, a simple but baffling request has preceded most of my encounters with medical professionals: “Rate your pain on a scale of zero to 10.”

I trained as a physician and have asked patients the very same question thousands of times, so I think hard about how to quantify the sum of the sore hips, the prickly thighs, and the numbing, itchy pain near my left shoulder blade. I pause and then, mostly arbitrarily, choose a number. “Three or four?” I venture, knowing the real answer is long, complicated, and not measurable in this one-dimensional way.

Pain is a squirrely thing. It’s sometimes burning, sometimes drilling, sometimes a deep-in-the-muscles clenching ache. Mine can depend on my mood or how much attention I afford it and can recede nearly entirely if I’m engrossed in a film or a task. Pain can also be disabling enough to cancel vacations, or so overwhelming that it leads people to opioid addiction. Even 10+ pain can be bearable when it’s endured for good reason, like giving birth to a child. But what’s the purpose of the pains I have now, the lingering effects of a head injury?

The concept of reducing these shades of pain to a single number dates to the 1970s. But the zero-to-10 scale is ubiquitous today because of what was called a “pain revolution” in the ’90s, when intense new attention to addressing pain — primarily with opioids — was framed as progress. Doctors today have a fuller understanding of treating pain, as well as the terrible consequences of prescribing opioids so readily. What they are learning only now is how to better measure pain and treat its many forms.

About 30 years ago, physicians who championed the use of opioids gave robust new life to what had been a niche specialty: pain management. They started pushing the idea that pain should be measured at every appointment as a “fifth vital sign.” The American Pain Society went as far as copyrighting the phrase. But unlike the other vital signs — blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, and breathing rate — pain had no objective scale. How to measure the unmeasurable? The society encouraged doctors and nurses to use the zero-to-10 rating system. Around that time, the FDA approved OxyContin, a slow-release opioid painkiller made by Purdue Pharma. The drugmaker itself encouraged doctors to routinely record and treat pain, and aggressively marketed opioids as an obvious solution.

To be fair, in an era when pain was too often ignored or undertreated, the zero-to-10 rating system could be regarded as an advance. Morphine pumps were not available for those cancer patients I saw in the ’80s, even those in agonizing pain from cancer in their bones; doctors regarded pain as an inevitable part of disease. In the emergency room where I practiced in the early ’90s, prescribing even a few opioid pills was a hassle: It required asking the head nurse to unlock a special prescription pad and making a copy for the state agency that tracked prescribing patterns. Regulators (rightly) worried that handing out narcotics would lead to addiction. As a result, some patients in need of relief likely went without.

After pain doctors and opioid manufacturers campaigned for broader use of opioids — claiming that newer forms were not addictive, or much less so than previous incarnations — prescribing the drugs became far easier and were promoted for all kinds of pain, whether from knee arthritis or back problems. As a young doctor joining the “pain revolution,” I probably asked patients thousands of times to rate their pain on a scale of zero to 10 and wrote many scripts each week for pain medication, as monitoring “the fifth vital sign” quickly became routine in the medical system. In time, a zero-to-10 pain measurement became a necessary box to fill in electronic medical records. The Joint Commission on the Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations made regularly assessing pain a prerequisite for medical centers receiving federal health care dollars. Medical groups added treatment of pain to their list of patient rights, and satisfaction with pain treatment became a component of post-visit patient surveys. (A poor showing could mean lower reimbursement from some insurers.)

But this approach to pain management had clear drawbacks. Studies accumulated showing that measuring patients’ pain didn’t result in better pain control. Doctors showed little interest in or didn’t know how to respond to the recorded answer. And patients’ satisfaction with their doctors’ discussion of pain didn’t necessarily mean they got adequate treatment. At the same time, the drugs were fueling the growing opioid epidemic. Research showed that an estimated 3% to 19% of people who received a prescription for pain medication from a doctor developed an addiction.

Doctors who wanted to treat pain had few other options, though. “We had a good sense that these drugs weren’t the only way to manage pain,” Linda Porter, director of the National Institutes of Health’s Office of Pain Policy and Planning, told me. “But we didn’t have a good understanding of the complexity or alternatives.” The enthusiasm for narcotics left many varietals of pain underexplored and undertreated for years. Only in 2018, a year when nearly 50,000 Americans died of an overdose, did Congress start funding a program — the Early Phase Pain Investigation Clinical Network, or EPPIC-Net — designed to explore types of pain and find better solutions. The network connects specialists at 12 academic specialized clinical centers and is meant to jump-start new research in the field and find bespoke solutions for different kinds of pain.

A zero-to-10 scale may make sense in certain situations, such as when a nurse uses it to adjust a medication dose for a patient hospitalized after surgery or an accident. And researchers and pain specialists have tried to create better rating tools — dozens, in fact, none of which was adequate to capture pain’s complexity, a European panel of experts concluded. The Veterans Health Administration, for instance, created one that had supplemental questions and visual prompts: A rating of 5 correlated with a frown and a pain level that “interrupts some activities.” The survey took much longer to administer and produced results that were no better than the zero-to-10 system. By the 2010s, many medical organizations, including the American Medical Association and the American Academy of Family Physicians, were rejecting not just the zero-to-10 scale but the entire notion that pain could be meaningfully self-reported numerically by a patient.

In the years that opioids had dominated pain remedies, a few drugs — such as gabapentin and pregabalin for neuropathy, and lidocaine patches and creams for musculoskeletal aches — had become available. “There was a growing awareness of the incredible complexity of pain — that you would have to find the right drugs for the right patients,” Rebecca Hommer, EPPIC-Net’s interim director, told me. Researchers are now looking for biomarkers associated with different kinds of pain so that drug studies can use more objective measures to assess the medications’ effect. A better understanding of the neural pathways and neurotransmitters that create different types of pain could also help researchers design drugs to interrupt and tame them.

Any treatments that come out of this research are unlikely to be blockbusters like opioids; by design, they will be useful to fewer people. That also makes them less appealing prospects to drug companies. So EPPIC-Net is helping small drug companies, academics, and even individual doctors design and conduct early-stage trials to test the safety and efficacy of promising pain-taming molecules. That information will be handed over to drug manufacturers for late-stage trials, all with the aim of getting new drugs approved by the FDA more quickly.

The first EPPIC-Net trials are just getting underway. Finding better treatments will be no easy task, because the nervous system is a largely unexplored universe of molecules, cells, and electronic connections that interact in countless ways. The 2021 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine went to scientists who discovered the mechanisms that allow us to feel the most basic sensations: cold and hot. In comparison, pain is a hydra. A simple number might feel definitive. But it’s not helping anyone make the pain go away.

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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Hundreds of Americans may have unknowingly received therapy from an untrained impostor who masqueraded as an online therapist, possibly for as long as two years, and the deception crumbled only when she died, according to state health department records.

Peggy A. Randolph, a social worker who was licensed in Florida and Tennessee and formerly worked for Brightside Health, a nationwide online therapy company, is accused of helping her wife impersonate her in online sessions, according to an investigation report from the Florida Department of Health.

The Florida report says the couple “defrauded” patients through a “coordinated effort”: As Randolph treated patients in person, her wife pretended to be her in telehealth sessions with Brightside patients. The deceit was discovered after the wife died last year and a patient realized they’d been talking to the wrong person, according to a Tennessee Department of Health settlement agreement.

Records from both states identify Randolph’s wife only by her initials, T.R., but her full name is in her obituary: Tammy G. Heath-Randolph. Therapists are generally expected to have at least a master’s degree, but Randolph’s wife was “not licensed or trained to provide any sort of counseling services,” according to the Tennessee agreement.

“[Randolph] denies knowing that T.R. was using her Brightside Health Therapist Portal log-in credentials or treating clients under her account. However, [she] received compensation for the sessions conducted,” the agreement states.

The alleged ruse has not been previously reported and its details and scope were only recently glimpsed in a few pages of public documents released by the state agencies. The Tennessee settlement, released in May, states that Randolph was supposed to provide online therapy to “hundreds of clients” while working for Brightside Health from January 2021 to February 2023. However, a Brightside internal investigation found it was actually Heath-Randolph who was “seeing all her patients and had been for a long time,” according to the Florida investigation report.

Randolph declined to comment.

The Florida and Tennessee records say Randolph voluntarily surrendered her social worker’s licenses in both states. This resulted in the health departments dropping their investigations, which limited the case details and documents available in the public record. Brightside’s internal investigation report has not been made public.

Brightside Health, a San Francisco company that offers nationwide online psychiatry and therapy sessions, declined to make an official available for an interview.

Company spokesperson Hannah Changi said in an email that as soon as Brightside learned of the allegations, it audited its security, fired Randolph, and reported her to state licensing authorities. Changi said Brightside can’t say how many patients were seen by Randolph’s wife “due to the nature of the incident and ongoing legal proceedings,” but said the company notified and refunded all “potentially impacted patients.”

“We take our patient experience seriously and hold ourselves to a high ethical code of conduct,” Changi said. “We’re extremely disappointed that a single provider was willing to violate the trust that Brightside and, most importantly, her patients had placed in her.”

Brightside was also required to alert the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, which investigates data breaches that expose private medical information. In this breach, an “unauthorized individual” accessed the info of 767 people, including Social Security numbers and diagnoses, according to the agency’s online database.

Neither Florida nor Tennessee health officials answered questions about the case.

Dean Flener, a spokesperson for the Tennessee Department of Health, said details of Randolph’s case remain confidential under state law.

Jae Williams, a Florida Department of Health spokesperson, said a full investigation was not completed because Randolph surrendered her license, which has the same effect as the state revoking it but allowed her to keep “what dignity she had left.”

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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Shhhooo. Wee-uuu. Chick, chick, chick. Ese es el sonido de tres especies diferentes de cigarras. Para algunos, esos sonidos son la canción del verano. Otros desearían que los insectos bajaran el volumen. La cacofonía puede ser especialmente irritante para las personas en el espectro autista que tienen sensibilidad auditiva.

Warren Rickly, de 14 años, vive en los suburbios del sur del condado de St. Louis, en Missouri. Warren, que tiene autismo, estaba en la parada del autobús recientemente esperando a su hermano menor cuando el sonido de las cigarras se volvió insoportable.

“Dijo que suena como si siempre hubiera un tren corriendo junto a él”, contó su madre, Jamie Reed.

Warren le dijo que el ruido le dolía.

Desde esta primavera, miles de millones de insectos de ojos rojos han estado saliendo de la tierra en todo el Medio Oeste y el Sureste. Es parte de una rara aparición simultánea de dos camadas de cigarras: una que aparece cada 13 años y la otra cada 17.

Los ruidosos insectos pueden ser estresantes. Las personas con autismo pueden tener sensibilidad a la textura, el brillo y el sonido.

“Creo que la diferencia para las personas con autismo es el nivel de intensidad o lo molestas que pueden ser algunas de estas diferencias sensoriales”, dijo Rachel Follmer, pediatra especializada en desarrollo y comportamiento en el Hospital de Niños Lurie de Chicago.

“Puede llegar a ser tan extremo que puede causar molestias físicas”, dijo.

Cuando un gran grupo de cigarras comienza a cantar, el coro puede ser tan fuerte como el ruido de una moto. Este año, investigadores de la Universidad de Missouri-St. Louis recopilaron niveles de ruido de cigarras tan altos como 86 decibeles, aproximadamente tan fuerte como el sonido de una licuadora.

Eso puede ser estresante, no melódico, agregó Follmer.

Para ayudar a los niños a sobrellevarlo, sugiere explicarles lo que pueden llegar a experimentar antes de una situación ruidosa. En el caso de las cigarras, eso podría significar explicarles qué son, que no pican ni muerden, y que estarán aquí por un corto tiempo.

“Cuando algo es incómodo, no tener poder sobre esa situación puede ser muy aterrador para muchas personas, ya sea que estén en el espectro o no”, dijo Follmer.

La familia de Jamie Reed ha estado usando esta y otras estrategias para ayudar a su hijo. Warren usa auriculares para aislar el ruido, escucha música y ha estado aprendiendo por sí mismo sobre las cigarras.

“Para él, investigar y profundizar en ello creo que lo estabiliza un poco”, dijo Reed.

Fatima Husain es profesora y neurocientífica en la Universidad de Illinois Urbana-Champaign y estudia cómo procesa el cerebro el sonido. Dijo que las personas con tinnitus también pueden tener problemas con el canto de las cigarras.

El tinnitus, un zumbido u otro ruido en los oídos, es la percepción de una persona del sonido sin una fuente externa.

“Algunas personas dicen que suena como un zumbido, como el viento soplando entre los árboles, o, irónicamente, muchos dicen que suena como cigarras”, dijo Husain.

Según explica Hussein, para la mayoría de las personas con tinnitus, la canción de las cigarras es un ruido de fondo inofensivo. Pero para otras, el zumbido puede impedir una conversación fácil o alterar el sueño. Los que sufren de tinnitus también tienen más probabilidades de tener ansiedad o depresión. Un sonido fuerte y persistente, como el canto de las cigarras, puede empeorar el tinnitus de una persona, agregó.

Sin embargo, no siempre es malo. La canción de las cigarras también puede ser un alivio.

Para algunos, el tinnitus empeora en un ambiente silencioso. Husain dijo que, este año, ha visto informes de pacientes que dicen que la melodía de las cigarras ha sido como un ruido blanco que calma.

“El sonido es lo suficientemente fuerte como para que, de alguna manera, esté ahogando su tinnitus interno”, dijo Husain.

Por muy ruidosas que puedan ser las cigarras, no necesariamente dañarán la audición de nadie, según los Centros para el Control y Prevención de Enfermedades (CDC). La pérdida auditiva se acumula con el tiempo debido a la exposición repetida a sonidos fuertes. Las cigarras no son lo suficientemente ruidosas durante el tiempo suficiente para causar un daño duradero, explicó Husain.

Las fuentes cotidianas de ruido conllevan un riesgo más alto. Husain dijo que la exposición constante a carreteras ruidosas, un aeropuerto, sitios industriales o electrodomésticos como licuadoras y secadores de pelo puede ser una preocupación. Y pueden afectar el bienestar emocional de la persona.

“Si estás expuesto a sonidos muy fuertes durante parte de tu jornada escolar o de trabajo, puede hacerte sentir más estresado; puede hacerte sentir más enojado por las cosas”, dijo.

A diferencia de la carretera o un aeropuerto, las cigarras no estarán aquí por mucho tiempo. La mayoría de la camada actual desaparecerá en las próximas semanas. Justo a tiempo para otro evento ruidoso de verano: el 4 de Julio.

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 landmark Supreme Court decision that reins in federal agencies’ authority is expected to hold dramatic consequences for the nation’s health care system, calling into question government rules on anything from consumer protections for patients to drug safety to nursing home care.

The June 28 decision overturns a 1984 precedent that said courts should give deference to federal agencies in legal challenges over their regulatory or scientific decisions. Instead of giving priority to agencies, courts will now exercise their own independent judgment about what Congress intended when drafting a particular law.

The ruling will likely have seismic ramifications for health policy. A flood of litigation — with plaintiffs like small businesses, drugmakers, and hospitals challenging regulations they say aren’t specified in the law — could leave the country with a patchwork of disparate health regulations varying by location.

Agencies such as the FDA are likely to be far more cautious in drafting regulations, Congress is expected to take more time fleshing out legislation to avoid legal challenges, and judges will be more apt to overrule current and future regulations.

Health policy leaders say patients, providers, and health systems should brace for more uncertainty and less stability in the health care system. Even routine government functions such as deciding the rate to pay doctors for treating Medicare beneficiaries could become embroiled in long legal battles that disrupt patient care or strain providers to adapt.

Groups that oppose a regulation could search for and secure partisan judges to roll back agency decision-making, said Andrew Twinamatsiko, director of the Health Policy and the Law Initiative at Georgetown University’s O’Neill Institute. One example could be challenges to the FDA’s approval of a medication used in abortions, which survived a Supreme Court challenge this term on a technicality.

“Judges will be more emboldened to second-guess agencies,” he said. “It’s going to open agencies up to attacks.”

Regulations are effectively the technical instructions for laws written by Congress. Federal agency staffers with knowledge related to a law — say, in drugs that treat rare diseases or health care for seniors — decide how to translate Congress’ words into action with input from industry, advocates, and the public.

Up until now, when agencies issued a regulation, a single rule typically applied nationwide. Following the high court ruling, however, lawsuits filed in more than one jurisdiction could result in contradictory rulings and regulatory requirements — meaning health care policies for patients, providers, or insurers could differ greatly from one area to another.

One circuit may uphold a regulation from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, for example, while other circuits may take different views.

“You could have eight or nine of 11 different views of the courts,” said William Buzbee, a professor at Georgetown Law.

A court in one circuit could issue a nationwide injunction to enforce its interpretation while another circuit disagrees, said Maura Monaghan, a partner at Debevoise & Plimpton. Few cases are taken up by the U.S. Supreme Court, which could leave clashing directives in place for many years.

In the immediate future, health policy leaders say agencies should brace for more litigation over controversial initiatives. A requirement that most Affordable Care Act health plans cover preventive services, for example, is already being litigated. Multiple challenges to the mandate could mean different coverage requirements for preventive care depending on where a consumer lives.

Drugmakers have sued to try to stop the Biden administration from implementing a federal law that forces makers of the most expensive drugs to negotiate prices with Medicare — a key cog in President Joe Biden’s effort to lower drug prices and control health care costs.

Parts of the health care industry may take on reimbursement rates for doctors that are set by the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services because those specific rates aren’t written into law. The agency issues rules updating payment rates in Medicare, a health insurance program for people 65 or older and younger people with disabilities. Groups representing doctors and hospitals regularly flock to Washington, D.C., to lobby against trims to their payment rates.

And providers, including those backed by deep-pocketed investors, have sued to block federal surprise-billing legislation. The No Surprises Act, which passed in 2020 and took effect for most people in 2022, aims to protect patients from unexpected, out-of-network medical bills, especially in emergencies. The high court’s ruling is expected to spur more litigation over its implementation.

“This really is going to create a tectonic change in the administrative regulatory landscape,” Twinamatsiko said. “The approach since 1984 has created stability. When the FDA or CDC adopt regulations, they know those regulations will be respected. That has been taken back.”

Industry groups, including the American Hospital Association and AHIP, an insurers’ trade group, declined to comment.

Agencies such as the FDA that take advantage of their regulatory authority to make specific decisions, such as the granting of exclusive marketing rights upon approval of a drug, will be vulnerable. The reason: Many of their decisions require discretion as opposed to being explicitly defined by federal law, said Joseph Ross, a professor of medicine and public health at Yale School of Medicine.

“The legislation that guides much of the work in the health space, such as FDA and CMS, is not prescriptive,” he said.

In fact, FDA Commissioner Robert Califf said in an episode of the “Healthcare Unfiltered” podcast last year that he was “very worried” about the disruption from judges overruling his agency’s scientific decisions.

The high court’s ruling will be especially significant for the nation’s federal health agencies because their regulations are often complex, creating the opportunity for more pitched legal battles.

Challenges that may not have succeeded in courts because of the deference to agencies could now find more favorable outcomes.

“A whole host of existing regulations could be vulnerable,” said Larry Levitt, executive vice president for health policy at KFF.

Other consequences are possible. Congress may attempt to flesh out more details when drafting legislation to avoid challenges — an approach that may increase partisan standoffs and slow down an already glacial pace in passing legislation, Levitt said.

Agencies are expected to be far more cautious in writing regulations to be sure they don’t go beyond the contours of the law.

The Supreme Court’s 6-3 decision overturned Chevron U.S.A. v. Natural Resources Defense Council, which held that courts should generally back a federal agency’s statutory interpretation as long as it was reasonable. Republicans have largely praised the new ruling as necessary for ensuring agencies don’t overstep their authority, while Democrats said in the aftermath of the decision that it amounts to a judicial power grab.

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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“You had to pay the fee, or the doctor wasn’t going to see you anymore.”

That was the takeaway for Terri Marroquin of Midland, Texas, when her longtime physician began charging a membership fee in 2019. She found out about the change when someone at the physician’s front desk pointed to a posted notice.

At first, she stuck with the practice; in her area, she said, it is now tough to find a primary care doctor who doesn’t charge an annual membership fee from $350 to $500.

But last year, Marroquin finally left to join a practice with no membership fee where she sees a physician assistant rather than a doctor. “I had had enough. The concierge fee kept going up, and the doctor’s office kept getting nicer and nicer,” she said, referring to the décor.

With the national shortage of primary care physicians reaching 17,637 in 2023 and projected to worsen, more Americans are paying for the privilege of seeing a doctor — on top of insurance premiums that cover most services a doctor might provide or order. Many people seeking a new doctor are calling a long list of primary care practices only to be told they’re not taking new patients.

“Concierge medicine potentially leads to disproportionately richer people being able to pay for the scarce resource of physician time and crowding out people who have lower incomes and are sicker,” said Adam Leive, lead author of a 2023 study on concierge medicine and researcher at University of California-Berkeley’s Goldman School of Public Policy.

Leive’s research showed no decrease in mortality for concierge patients compared with similar patients who saw non-concierge physicians, suggesting concierge care may not notably improve some health outcomes.

A 2005 study showed concierge physicians had smaller proportions of patients with diabetes than their non-concierge counterparts and provided care for fewer Black and Hispanic patients.

There’s little reliable data available on the size of the concierge medicine market. But one market research firm projects that concierge medicine revenue will grow about 10.4% annually through 2030. About 5,000 to 7,000 physicians and practices provide concierge care in the United States, most of whom are primary care providers, according to Concierge Medicine Today. (Yes, the burgeoning field already has a trade publication.)

The concierge pitch is simple: More time with your doctor, in-person or remotely, promptly and at your convenience. With many primary care physicians caring for thousands of patients each in appointments of 15 minutes or less, some people who can afford the fee say they feel forced to pay it just to maintain adequate access to their doctor.

As primary care providers convert to concierge medicine, many patients could face the financial and health consequences of a potentially lengthy search for a new provider. With fewer physicians in non-concierge practices, the pool available to people who can’t or won’t pay is smaller. For them, it is harder to find a doctor.

Concierge care models vary widely, but all involve paying a periodic fee to be a patient of the practice.

These fees are generally not covered by insurance nor payable with a tax-advantaged flexible spending account or health savings account. Annual fees range from $199 for Amazon’s One Medical (with a discount available for Prime members) to low four figures for companies like MDVIP and SignatureMD that partner with physicians, to $10,000 or more for top-branded practices like Massachusetts General Hospital’s.

Many patients are exasperated with the prospect of pay-to-play primary care. For one thing, under the Affordable Care Act, insurers are required to cover a variety of preventive services without a patient paying out-of-pocket. “Your annual physical should be free,” said Caitlin Donovan, a spokesperson for the National Patient Advocate Foundation. “Why are you paying $2,000 for it?”

Liz Glatzer felt her doctor in Providence, Rhode Island, was competent but didn’t have time to absorb her full health history. “I had double mastectomy 25 years ago,” she said. “At my first physical, the doctor ran through my meds and whatever else, and she said, ‘Oh, you haven’t had a mammogram.’ I said, ‘I don’t have breasts to have mammography.’”

In 2023, after repeating that same exchange during her next two physicals, Glatzer signed up to pay $1,900 a year for MDVIP, a concierge staffing service that contracts with her new doctor, who is also a friend’s husband. In her first couple of visits, Glatzer’s new physician took hours to get to know her, she said.

For the growing numbers of Americans who can’t or won’t pay when their doctor switches to concierge care, finding new primary care can mean frustration, delayed or missed tests or treatments, and fragmented health care.

“I’ve met so many patients who couldn’t afford the concierge services and needed to look for a new primary care physician,” said Yalda Jabbarpour, director of the Robert Graham Center and a practicing family physician. Separating from a doctor who’s transitioning to concierge care “breaks the continuity with the provider that we know is so important for good health outcomes,” she said.

That disruption has consequences. “People don’t get the preventive services that they should, and they use more expensive and inefficient avenues for care that could have otherwise been provided by their doctor,” said Abbie Leibowitz, chief medical officer at Health Advocate, a company that helps patients find care and resolve insurance issues.

What happens to patients who find themselves at loose ends when a physician transitions to concierge practice?

Patients who lose their doctors often give up on having an ongoing relationship with a primary care clinician. They may rely solely on a pharmacy-based clinic or urgent care center or even a hospital emergency department for primary care.

Some concierge providers say they are responding to concerns about access and equity by allowing patients to opt out of concierge care but stay with the practice group at a lower tier of service. This might entail longer waits for shorter appointments, fewer visits with a physician, and more visits with midlevel providers, for example.

Deb Gordon of Cambridge, Massachusetts, said she is searching for a new primary care doctor after hers switched to concierge medicine — a challenge that involves finding someone in her network who has admitting privileges at her preferred hospitals and is accepting new patients.

Gordon, who is co-director of the Alliance of Professional Health Advocates, which provides support services to patient advocates, said the practice that her doctor left has not assigned her a new provider, and her health plan said it was OK if she went without one. “I was shocked that they literally said, ‘You can go to urgent care,’” she said.

Some patients find themselves turning to physician assistants and other midlevel providers. But those clinicians have much less training than physicians with board certification in family medicine or internal medicine and so may not be fully qualified to treat patients with complex health problems. “The expertise of physician assistants and nurse practitioners can really vary widely,” said Russell Phillips, director of the Harvard Medical School Center for Primary Care.

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.

This story can be republished for free (details).

SANDPOINT, Idaho — The ultrasound in February that found a mass growing in her uterus and abnormally thick uterine lining brought Jonell Anderson more than anxiety over diagnosis and treatment.

For Anderson and other patients in this rural community who need gynecological care, stress over discovering an illness is compounded by the challenges they face getting to a doctor.

After that initial ultrasound, Anderson’s primary care provider referred her to an OB-GYN nearly an hour’s drive away in Coeur d’Alene for more testing.

Getting care for more serious gynecological issues, like a hysteroscopy, endometriosis, or polycystic ovary syndrome, has become much more difficult in Sandpoint, a town of about 10,000 people in Idaho’s panhandle region. A state law criminalizing abortions drove multiple OB-GYNs to leave town about a year ago.

The effects have been far-reaching. The OB-GYNs who left Sandpoint were also providing care to patients in nearby outlying areas, like Bonners Ferry, a roughly 40-minute drive into Idaho’s northernmost county. Doctors have spoken out about not feeling safe practicing medicine where they could face criminal charges for providing care to their patients. Republican lawmakers in Idaho contend doctors are being used in an effort to roll back the ban, and they declined to amend the law this year.

According to the Idaho Coalition for Safe Healthcare, a group advocating for a rollback of the state’s strict abortion ban, at least two hospitals, including Bonner General Health in Sandpoint, ended labor and delivery services in the 15 months after the state criminalized abortion in 2022. During that same time period, the number of OB-GYNs practicing in Idaho dropped by 22%. The report’s authors noted that many rural residents rely on consultations from medical specialists in urban parts of the state that are already struggling to provide care.

Those departures have expanded care deserts and added obstacles between patients and care, including for Anderson, 49.

Anderson’s car broke down when she was on the way to see an OB-GYN in Coeur d’Alene a few weeks after her initial ultrasound. Her husband took off work to drive her to a rescheduled appointment the same day. After hours of mishaps, she arrived for the visit, which lasted about 15 minutes. There, the doctor told her she’d need to come back for a hysteroscopy — an exam that shows the inside of the cervix and uterus — a few weeks later, followed by another appointment to go over results.

Four months later, in June, early results showed that the mass in Anderson’s uterus did not appear to be cancerous. She’s relieved, she said, but still concerned about nearing menopause and not having the support of an OB-GYN nearby to help her manage any symptoms or health issues that could come up.

“It sure was a whole level of stress that just added on because I had so much further to transport,” Anderson said. “Three years ago I would have been 10 minutes away from my appointment, not 60 minutes away.”

Those hardships patients face weigh heavily on the specialists who left.

Amelia Huntsberger, an OB-GYN, said that she and her husband are still grappling with a feeling of grief after being “forced out of Idaho” last year. They had lived in the state for more than a decade and practiced in Sandpoint. While leaving was a difficult decision, she said, she has no doubt it was the right one for her; her husband, who was a doctor in the emergency room at Bonner General; and their children.

“I think about things like who we are as a people,” Huntsberger said. “What do we value, and do our actions reflect our values?” Limiting access to care for women, pregnant or not, and their infants suggests lawmakers do not consider them important, she said.

Usha Ranji, an associate director for Women’s Health Policy at KFF, said she has heard anecdotally about providers leaving states with strict abortion bans like Idaho’s. Some recent medical graduates are also avoiding residency positions in states restricting abortion, making it harder to replace the outgoing providers, Ranji said.

Sandy Brower, a spokesperson for Bonner General, said the hospital is working to hire a gynecologist and is focused on building out its family provider team. She said other providers at the hospital are still treating women before and after pregnancy, but not during delivery unless it’s an emergency and the person cannot be transported.

Susie Keller, CEO of the Idaho Medical Association, said there’s a growing number of doctor vacancies in the state and that the number of applicants has “absolutely plummeted and those jobs are taking about twice as long as normal to fill.

“We are witnessing the dismantling of our health system,” Keller said.

As more community members feel the effects of a strained health system, some are following in the path of the doctors — they’re considering leaving. Anderson is among them.

Local education issues play a large part in that decision-making process, she said, as she considers her 9-year-old daughter’s future. But access to women’s health care is another piece of the puzzle.

“If I don’t have the care I need and she doesn’t have the care she needs,” Anderson said, “is that really somewhere we want to live?”

Ranji said polling indicates health care is a priority for people, so it could play into decisions about where they want to plant roots. And that leads into another way community members could respond to the changes in local care — by voting in state elections.

Primary election results from May in northern Idaho, where Sandpoint is located, showed signs of voters backing Republican candidates who hold more moderate views on abortion. Former state Sen. Jim Woodward narrowly beat Sen. Scott Herndon, a fellow Republican who sought reelection to his seat in the legislature.

Woodward, a self-described pro-life candidate with a stance against elective abortions, supports efforts to include exceptions for the health of the mother and removing the threat of felony charges against doctors who perform abortions. Herndon, on the other hand, provoked strong reactions during last year’s legislative session when he sponsored a bill that would have removed the already strict law’s current narrow exceptions for rape and incest.

Kathryn Larson, 66, has been campaigning as a Democrat for a seat representing most of Boundary and Bonner counties, the two northernmost in the panhandle region, in the state’s House of Representatives. She also has had recent firsthand experience falling into the care gap created by the exodus of OB-GYNs in Sandpoint.

In January, Larson went to the emergency room at Bonner General, a 25-bed critical access hospital, with severe chest pains. A cardiologist suggested an infection could be to blame. Larson said she also experienced vertigo and rapid heartbeat and later developed symptoms of a urinary tract infection. She was given rounds of antibiotics to treat the infection, but the symptoms returned.

More testing finally revealed the crux of the issue — Larson was dealing with a prolapsed bladder, which is not life-threatening but causes discomfort or pain and affects 1 in 3 women in their 60s.

After about five months of back-and-forth communication with providers in Post Falls and the eastern Washington city of Spokane, she scheduled an appointment for surgery in early June in Spokane, more than an hour’s drive from Sandpoint. Following surgery, during which doctors implanted a mesh structure to support her bladder, Larson is spending six to eight weeks recovering before heading into the final stretches of election season.

She said the November election will help others in her party tell if it will be possible to work across the aisle to loosen restrictions on the abortion policy during next year’s legislative session. She wants to slow the loss of needed providers across the state.

“People don’t feel safe,” Larson said.

The U.S. Supreme Court ruled on June 27 that Idaho must for now continue to allow abortions in medical emergencies. The ruling came in a lawsuit filed by the Biden administration, which argued that the federal Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act requires such care.

But the ruling does not provide a permanent solution. It kicks the case back to lower courts. Confusion remains over a doctor’s ability to perform abortions even in emergency settings, and the Idaho Medical Association said it will continue to work toward a clear health-of-the-mother exception within state law during next year’s legislative session.

“We still need more clarity for our state’s doctors,” OB-GYN Megan Kasper said in a medical association press release.

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.

This story can be republished for free (details).