“He was on a nasty, dirty ground in front of a store,” recalled Sonja Smith, who is enraged about the circumstances that led to her husband’s heart failure. “He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Problems started last year when the couple learned the monthly premium payment for their Federal Employees Health Benefits plan would more than double to $307 and their deductible would also go up. They decided to switch Blackman’s primary coverage to CHAMPVA, a health benefits program for dependents of disabled veterans, which had no premium and a $3,000 deductible.

Smith thought she and Blackman had carefully prepared so that the transition between health plans would be seamless. It was anything but.

After the new health plan became active in January, Smith said, Blackman faced one hurdle after another getting approval for the antirejection medications needed to prevent his body from attacking his transplanted heart. Patients who rely on these drugs can develop severe and life-threatening heart issues if they miss even a few days. She said Blackman had enough medication to last only about a month into the new plan year. He told her just before his death that he had run out.

“I screamed at CHAMPVA. I screamed at the Trump administration. I screamed at the overall healthcare system in this godforsaken country,” she said. “Everybody played a part in what happened to my husband.”

The Department of Veterans Affairs declined to comment on the record about Blackman’s case.

While the couple’s situation was extreme, their challenge of trying to continue a treatment is faced by many who shop for cheaper options as health insurance costs have soared across the country. The United States already has a fragmented health system, in which insurers, clinicians, and drugmakers are largely left on their own to hash out the cost of each medication or service. That lack of standardization leads to layers of bureaucracy for patients; moving to a new plan can ensnare patients in a thicket of red tape, keeping them from care.

Making matters more challenging, Congress didn’t renew covid pandemic-era subsidies that helped lower premiums for Affordable Care Act marketplace plans before this year. The Trump administration is also adding hurdles for people to access Medicaid, a state-federal health insurance program for Americans with low incomes or disabilities, so more people may lose their current coverage.

“We’ve basically set up a series of cracks in our healthcare system that we ask people to jump over,” said , an assistant professor of health policy at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. “But if you don’t jump over those cracks, you can lose coverage, or lose access to your doctor, or lose access to your medications.”

‘This Is a Lot’

Insurers calibrate plan prices by negotiating rates with individual clinicians, hospital systems, and drugmakers, leading to varying levels of coverage. Plans with lower monthly costs of doctors and hospitals, and less generous drug coverage.

As a result, when patients choose an insurer — or even a new plan with the same insurer — they may lose access to medications or doctors that they have had for years, said , a research professor in health policy at Georgetown University. There are so many ways “patients could get tripped up,” she said. “When you switch to a new insurance company, they’re going to apply their rules.”

In announced by the Trump administration last year, many insurers voluntarily agreed to reduce some red tape by honoring existing prior authorizations for 90 days when a patient switches health plans. As required by law, they also offer resources such as plain-language plan descriptions and searchable online clinician directories to help patients coordinate care, according to , the main health insurance industry trade group.

“The goal is to ensure every member understands their benefits and can access the care they need without interruption,” said Conner Coles, an AHIP spokesperson.

But patients say understanding their benefits can still be a challenge.

Monique Acosta, 54, had to navigate two health insurance changes after she was laid off from her job at a disability nonprofit in October. The heart transplant recipient and cancer survivor said she paid nearly $900 a month to continue her employer coverage under COBRA, the Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act. Then, in January, the Woodbridge, Virginia, resident switched to Medicaid.

During the transitions, Acosta said, she lost coverage for a postchemotherapy drug. So, she changed her care team to qualify for lower-cost medications through a local hospital’s charity program. Then one of her new doctors reduced the frequency of an injection she had gotten for years. During that time, she said, her red and white blood cell counts plummeted and she struggled to recover from a heart catheterization procedure.

Eventually, her new physician upped the frequency of her injections back to twice a month. “He needed to document it so he could see it himself,” Acosta said. “I was very, very fatigued, very weak, and it’s unnecessarily so.”

Acosta said she is putting off a mammogram until she can better understand her Medicaid plan or find a job with better benefits. “This is overwhelming,” she said. “This is a lot.”

Burden on the Patient

Federal regulations, 43 states, and Washington, D.C., have that require health plans to continue covering doctors and drugs when there is a network change, like when a clinician or hospital that a patient goes to is terminated from the insurer’s network of providers.

But Corlette said that not all the protections address the trip wires people face when they switch insurers on their own, such as during open enrollment or after a major life change.

Still, people can be proactive in a few ways about maintaining care when they change plans, said Shelli Quenga, an insurance agent in South Carolina.

She advises patients to keep written records of their medical and drug history for new providers. Quenga tells her customers to get their new insurance information to their doctors as soon as they switch, not to wait until an appointment. In addition, she said patients can request a case manager with their insurer so they don’t have to repeat their concerns to different staffers.

Even when a patient does homework, doctors can drop out of a network and insurers can change the contours of their plans, McIntyre said.

“Nobody has an incentive to make it make sense,” she said. “This puts a lot of burden on the patient.”

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Each year, Amgen, which makes the drug, called , sent the coupon card worth thousands of dollars, and that counted toward Gruber’s health insurance deductible and out-of-pocket maximum.

Using the card, Gruber usually met that maximum by February, leaving his health insurance to fully cover his in-network medical costs and reducing his cost for the drug to $0 for the rest of the year.

But this year, his new health insurer, , pocketed the coupon card and required Gruber to pay for the drug until he satisfied the cost-sharing requirements on his own.

If Oscar Health had applied Amgen’s coupon toward Gruber’s cost sharing, he would have been on the hook for about $3,000 in covered services. Without it, he had to use his savings to meet the plan’s $10,600 out-of-pocket maximum.

“The real insult here is that they’re taking the money that’s intended to help you,” said Gruber, who had planned to buy a home next year with his savings. “I feel desperate, pressed against the wall, and squeezed.”

Oscar Health is one of many commercial health insurers that use what are often called copay accumulator programs to keep funds that are meant to defray patients’ out-of-pocket costs for expensive specialty drugs. Over the past decade, more insurers have to reduce their prescription drug costs, according to Avalere Health, a consulting company.

Patients who rely on copay assistance from drugmakers are typically heavy users of healthcare for whom delays in treatment or worsening conditions can lead to higher costs, according to patient advocates.

, Florida market president for Oscar Health, did not comment on the specifics of Gruber’s case. He said the company uses copay accumulators to manage rising medical and prescription costs and “to keep monthly premiums as low as possible.”

Drugmakers argue that insurers and pharmacy benefit managers use copay accumulators and other strategies to delay or deny care and steer patients toward medicines that insurers prefer instead. Insurers counter that coupon cards and other patient financial assistance from drug manufacturers drive up premiums and encourage patients to use higher-priced, brand-name drugs instead of less-expensive generics.

Meanwhile, patient advocates say it’s difficult for consumers to find out if their plan uses a copay accumulator or to understand how they work. Not only do the programs make medications unaffordable for consumers, critics argue, but they allow insurers to double-dip.

“They’re collecting the money twice and they’re hurting patients,” said , executive director of the HIV+Hepatitis Policy Institute, a patient advocacy group.

“Why does it make a difference to Oscar if they get the money from a drug company or, you know, his mother or him?” he said of Gruber’s experience. “They’re still getting the money.”

Controlling Costs or Harming Patients?

Not all insurance types use copay accumulators. Medicare and Medicaid prohibit copay assistance because federal anti-kickback laws forbid drug manufacturers from offering financial incentives to influence patients’ choices. And the Internal Revenue Service prohibits such help for high-deductible plans with health savings accounts. But individual and commercial group plans can use them.

Regulation of copay accumulator programs has fallen largely to states, which oversee individual and small-group plans sold on the Affordable Care Act marketplace.

For 2026, of ACA marketplace plans have such a program, according to a review from The AIDS Institute, a nonprofit group that opposes the programs. Of the 16 insurers that sell plans on the marketplace in Florida, 10 use copay accumulator programs, the review found.

Patients who take brand-name specialty drugs for conditions such as autoimmune disorders, multiple sclerosis, diabetes, HIV, and cancer are most likely to encounter these programs. Health insurers say that making patients share the costs for specialty drugs encourages them to choose value over brand.

But Gruber doesn’t have a choice because there is no medically equivalent generic for Enbrel. Gruber’s livelihood as a trainer depends on his athleticism. The weekly injections, which he has to take for the rest of his life, prevent his joints from getting stiff. When he was diagnosed in 2010, Gruber said, he couldn’t shake hands or lift his knee to get into bed. Without treatment, he said, “I ache from my neck down to my toes.”

If manufacturers priced their drugs affordably, patients like Gruber wouldn’t need financial assistance, said , a senior vice president for AHIP, a trade association representing insurers.

“Drugmakers offer short-term ‘discounts’ to justify overcharging Americans in the long term, driving up healthcare costs for everyone,” he said in a statement. “Research shows limiting copay coupons can reduce premiums and lower consumers’ out-of-pocket costs.”

Sarah Ryan, a spokesperson for Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, a trade association for the pharmaceutical industry, said copay assistance helps patients access medications free of charge or at reduced cost.

“Health insurance is supposed to protect patients,” Ryan said, adding that insurers and pharmacy benefit managers that refuse to count copay assistance toward cost sharing are “leaving patients facing unexpected costs and disrupting their care.”

Insurance companies already have tools to control costs without keeping financial assistance intended for patients, said , deputy executive director for The AIDS Institute.

Insurers choose what drugs to cover, whether they are medically necessary, and if a patient must try a cheaper alternative first.

“They are the ones making the decisions,” Klein said. “Now the individual is left trying to figure out how they’re going to pay for it.”

Consumers Stuck in the Middle

Before moving to Florida in 2024, Gruber said, he had bought coverage on the ACA marketplaces in Illinois and Louisiana, which prohibit copay accumulators. Gruber said he hadn’t encountered one until his experience with Oscar Health.

He complained to the office of Florida’s insurance consumer advocate, which informed him that the practice is legal in the state and that Oscar Health had disclosed its use of a copay accumulator program. Page 127 of his 168-page evidence of coverage states, “Third party assistance will not count towards your out-of-pocket maximum or deductible.”

Gruber said he selected his coverage using a tool on that listed all the Florida ACA plans that cover Enbrel. “I always choose the one with the highest deductible to get the lowest premium,” he said, “because I know I’m going to meet it.” His monthly premium is about $315 after subsidies.

Adding to Gruber’s confusion, he said, was that his patient portal with Oscar Health was counting his coupon card at first. He said he met his out-of-pocket maximum in February, and in March Oscar covered all the cost for the medication.

But when he ordered his refill for April, the pharmacy told him that Oscar would cover only $1,000 of the medication’s cost for that month. He would have to pay the remaining $6,700.

Gruber then received a letter from Oscar Health, telling him that an incorrect amount had been applied to his deductible.

“They sent me a letter that basically stated they made a mistake,” he said. “The fact that they’re allowed to sort of change things midstream is also, I think, a little galling.”

He began rationing the injections, taking them every other week instead of weekly. By May, he had dipped into his savings to pay for the drug.

States Step Up While Federal Oversight Stalls

The first state laws banning copay accumulators were adopted in 2019, and since then more states have moved to regulate the programs, said , public policy director for the Alliance for Patient Access, an advocacy group.

“The goal is to build upon that progress at the federal level and to continue to drive this momentum forward,” he said.

Twenty-six states, Washington, D.C., and Puerto Rico have adopted laws banning copay accumulators or prohibiting them for drugs that do not have a generic equivalent. Colorado also prohibits copay accumulators for drugs without a biosimilar. In states that have not banned or restricted the programs, insurance companies decide whether to use them.

But federal regulation of the programs, which would apply to all states, remains at a standstill.

A federal court in 2023 struck down a policy enacted during President Donald Trump’s first term that had permitted insurers to use copay accumulator programs. As a result, the Department of Health and Human Services reverted to that restricts their use to brand-name drugs with a medically appropriate generic equivalent.

After the court ruling, the Biden administration pledged to address copay accumulators in future rulemaking. But HHS has yet to do so, said Schmid, whose group, the HIV+Hepatitis Policy Institute, led a coalition of patient advocacy groups that sued to overturn the rule.

“The Trump administration can stop this once and for all at the national level,” Schmid said. “If they really care about patient affordability, this is something they can do.”

Bipartisan legislation in Congress called the would require financial assistance to count toward deductibles and other out-of-pocket costs on plans regulated by the federal government, including much employer-sponsored coverage.

Schmid said the bill has not gotten “enough traction on the Hill yet.”

Other ways to obtain medication don’t help patients facing copay accumulators either. The president’s , an online platform through which consumers can buy prescription drugs at a discount, requires patients to pay out-of-pocket, and the cost does not count toward their plan’s cost-sharing requirements.

Christopher Krepich, a Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services spokesperson, said that HHS, along with the departments of Labor and the Treasury, intend to address the issue of whether copay assistance must apply toward health plan cost sharing.

Until then, he wrote, “the Departments do not intend to take any enforcement action against health insurance issuers or group health plans based on their treatment of such manufacturer assistance.”

Outside of government regulation, consumers have few protections or alternatives.

Patients who rely on expensive medications — and who have a choice in their health insurance plan — should research their coverage options and choose wisely so they’re not caught by surprise, Clingham said.

That may mean reading plan benefit explanation packages, contacting their state’s insurance regulator, or calling an insurance company to ask if their plans use copay accumulator programs.

For Gruber, the extra expense means he won’t take a vacation this year. He’s also concerned that the money he was saving for a home will now go to his medication costs instead.

“It’s the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning,” he said. “If this happens every year, it would be financially devastating.”

Are you struggling to afford your health insurance? Have you decided to forgo coverage? Click here to contact ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and share your story.

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Researchers this spring discovered in water in several coastal locations across New York’s Long Island, and town officials in the Hamptons vacation destination about the findings. in Florida have been infected this year, and in June urged people to take precautions.

About 1 in 5 people infected by the bacteria die, sometimes within a day or two of becoming ill, according to a Centers for Disease Control and Prevention . The bacteria, Vibrio vulnificus, can enter open wounds and cause tissue death and systemic sepsis.

“Many people with Vibrio vulnificus infection can get seriously ill and need intensive care or limb amputation,” the CDC says.

The risk of such public threats is mounting because climate change is expanding the territory of certain pathogens, but researchers say there’s another concern. The Trump administration has cut investments in programs and agencies that prevent, track, and respond to health hazards the federal government is now confronting.

Consider the , which can infest and kill livestock, in the U.S. in June. The U.S. Department of Agriculture lost in the first six months of 2025, according to a report from the USDA’s Office of Inspector General, and the agency’s winnowed-down inspection service is helping lead the response to the parasite.

Or malaria. A freeze on foreign aid disrupted international malaria prevention efforts, and warned that the U.S. is vulnerable to the reintroduction of the infectious disease.

And when it comes to Vibrio, the Trump administration began removing hundreds of deep-sea instruments that and yield data that helps that can allow the bacteria to flourish. the data to study Vibrio, which can when water temperatures and .

“It is important to track coastal temperatures, and that will relate to the distributions of Vibrio,” said Christopher Gobler, a professor in the School of Marine and Atmospheric Sciences at New York’s Stony Brook University, though he added that there are also other sources of data for researchers.

The Trump administration to dismantle the ocean monitoring system following bipartisan opposition to the effort in Congress.

But it’s still curtailing Vibrio surveillance. The life-threatening species that’s found in water can also sicken or kill people who eat contaminated seafood, such as infected with the bacteria. And infections from Vibrio vulnificus linked to consuming raw or undercooked shellfish as the presence of other pathogens in food decrease.

Since 1995, 10 states have participated in a federal program called the Foodborne Disease Active Disease Surveillance Network, or FoodNet. The program, with the CDC, monitors and track cases of foodborne illness caused by eight specific pathogens, including Vibrio. But last year the Trump administration to report on all but two pathogens, which means states no longer must report cases to the CDC.

Federal officials deny the moves are putting Americans at risk, saying the CDC continues to monitor these pathogens through other national surveillance systems to ensure ongoing visibility into disease trends and outbreaks.

Meanwhile, some former health leaders say the ramifications of sweeping cuts to health agencies and global prevention programs are becoming more apparent, undermining U.S. response efforts and initiatives that aim to safeguard the country from diseases.

“We are letting down defenses that were necessary to protect against microbial threats,” said Tom Frieden, a former CDC director who is now president and chief executive of Resolve to Save Lives, which works to stop preventable disease. “Instead of protecting, we’re doing the opposite.”

Do Limited Resources Mean Higher Risks?

The administration defends its actions, including massive layoffs at government health agencies, as necessary to eliminate wasteful spending.

The Department of Health and Human Services “is advancing the most significant public health reforms in a generation focused on prevention, accountability, scientific transparency, and better health outcomes,” agency spokesperson Emily Hilliard said in an email. “The Department is putting American families at the center of public health decision-making.”

Evidence suggests health risks are rising even as the Trump administration pulls back on resources for research, detection, and response.

Early in his administration, President Donald Trump opted to freeze and review work on global health programs. Trump’s cost-reduction effort, led by billionaire Elon Musk, also dismantled the U.S. Agency for International Development.

As a result, work was disrupted on the President’s Malaria Initiative, a George W. Bush-era program aimed at combating malaria in hard-hit countries that is credited with saving more than . USAID had in the program since 2005.

In addition, for global malaria programs were targeted for termination, , an independent research group that includes ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News. The report didn’t include data on the total value of those specific malaria grants.

And the spending freeze halted research for more effective . The administration dissolved the CDC’s , shuffling staffers to other divisions and on the disease. HHS didn’t respond to an email asking how many staff members had been moved.

The life-threatening infectious disease spread by mosquitos was in 1951. But the CDC’s updated guidance on investigating domestic cases that “the country remains susceptible to malaria reintroduction.”

resulted in 10 people in Arkansas, Florida, Maryland, and Texas becoming infected locally, and mosquitoes capable of transmitting malaria are found throughout most of the country.

“The majority of U.S. residents lack protective immunity against malaria, rendering persons susceptible to severe illness and death if infected,” the CDC said in the May report.

HHS declined to comment on any of the specific cuts but said the CDC works with domestic and international partners to reduce the burden of malaria and prevent its reestablishment in the U.S.

It’s not just cuts to funding that are raising health risks, say researchers and former health officials. Significant staffing cuts mean there are fewer people working on preventing or tracking diseases, they say.

“Yes, the programs have been cut in terms of reduction in staff, but I would say, equally important, you have reductions in expertise,” said Jeanne Marrazzo, CEO of the Infectious Diseases Society of America. “It’s irreplaceable.”

Screwworm is a species of parasitic blowfly producing larvae that can enter open wounds and devour tissue, infecting people and animals. Like malaria, it has long been eliminated in the U.S., and disease monitoring efforts have been key to keeping it out.

The cuts at USAID stripped from the United Nations’ , which focuses on global food security and the such as screwworm.

In the wake of the administration’s cost-cutting initiatives, more than 20,000 employees are gone from the USDA, which develops and implements agriculture policy and provides resources to producers of livestock vulnerable to the parasite.

On June 3, the first new case of screwworm in the U.S. was confirmed, and there have now been infected with parasite. An expanding outbreak could devastate the cattle industry.

Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins during the Trump administration have led to screwworm’s return. Instead, she has , saying it didn’t do enough to prevent reintroduction into the U.S. Rollins said on X that “” under the previous Biden administration was partly to blame, providing no evidence.

The USDA did not respond to an email seeking comment.

Ashish Jha, a doctor who served as the White House covid response coordinator during the Biden administration, said there’s no truth to the claim that immigrants lacking legal status have brought screwworm into the U.S.

Investments in tracking and combating diseases have suffered, he said, because HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is prioritizing the prevention of chronic disease at the expense of efforts to curtail infectious disease.

“Who doesn’t want a healthier country? It sounds great, but it’s kind of a bait and switch,” Jha said. “They’re doing the opposite. They’re letting down our defenses that are necessary to protect us against microbial threats.”

HHS’ Hilliard disagreed, saying Kennedy’s actions are making the agency more effective.

“Secretary Kennedy is delivering that reform by streamlining operations, reducing redundancies, and returning HHS to pre-pandemic staffing levels,” she said. “At the same time, he is dismantling policies and incentives that contributed to a nationwide chronic disease epidemic.”

Surveillance Gaps

Jha pointed to Trump’s decision to withdraw the U.S. from the World Health Organization, which coordinates global responses to public health issues and crises, and to the dismantling of USAID.

The pullback has had implications for the Ebola outbreak in the Democratic Republic of Congo, aid workers say.

Without the same amount of funding from USAID, the International Rescue Committee, which partners to deliver front-line health, surveillance, and outbreak preparedness activities in Congo, .

“Funding cuts have left the region dangerously exposed,” Heather Reoch Kerr, IRC’s country director for Congo, said .

The outbreak is roughly 7,000 miles away, but its spread has the , with stepped-up surveillance and entry restrictions on airline travelers. Federal officials have said that the dismantling of USAID hasn’t hampered detection or response.

“The U.S. government continues to move aggressively to contain the Ebola outbreak at its source in order to protect the American people and prevent further international spread,” the State Department said .

Trump’s decision to disengage with the WHO was criticized by following a hantavirus outbreak this spring on a cruise ship that had set sail from Argentina. the , and they questioned why the president suggested creating a costly new rather than sticking with the WHO — especially, they say, when the U.S. is cutting back on the surveillance programs it already has.

The federal government has tracked Vibrio cases as part of the FoodNet program, which aims in part to identify and curtail outbreaks. Reporting on cases of Vibrio is now optional.

Close to half of the cases of foodborne illness caused by Vibrio vulnificus have , and some within 24 hours after consumption of tainted shellfish such as raw oysters. The bacteria can multiply rapidly, leading to septic shock and blistering skin lesions. The pathogen is becoming to antibiotics.

The CDC estimates that of Vibrio infection occur annually, with infections from the most severe species, Vibrio vulnificus, steadily rising. , that species has led to 429 cases due to infections of open wounds and 135 cases from contaminated food.

“The more surveillance you get, you can connect the dots,” said Bill Marler, a Seattle-area food safety lawyer. “If a tree falls in the woods and you don’t hear it, did the tree fall? It’s easier not to report diseases. Then they can say, ‘Look at how safe our food supply is.’”

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He had been targeted by a drive-by shooter in Jacksonville, Florida, and hospitalized with two gunshot wounds. During his weeklong hospitalization, he said, a physician assistant changed the course of his life by visiting his hospital bed each day and warning him that Black men with gunshot wounds often end up paralyzed — or worse.

“I used to run the streets, you know, on the wrong sides of the track,” Pinckney said. “He made me promise that I would never come into his ER that way again. That was the last conversation we had, right before I was discharged.”

His goal since then has been to become a physician assistant. Pinckney, who spent most of his career working for New York City’s Department of Sanitation and as an Army Reserve medic, recently took a step toward achieving it. In May, he graduated with departmental honors from Lehman College with a Bachelor of Science degree.

After moving from New York to Prince George’s County, Maryland, he’d planned on applying for physician assistant school this year. But now, he’s worried his dream may be thwarted by new student loan rules.

Starting July 1, the amount of money graduate students will be allowed to borrow from the federal government . The new student loan limits are part of the GOP’s tax-and-spending legislation known as the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which President Donald Trump signed into law last year.

The caps are intended to curb the cost of higher education and student loan debt, according to the Trump administration.

But critics widely agree the new limits are too low, especially for students allowed to borrow only $20,500 a year in federal loans due to the law’s controversial definition of a “professional degree.” On June 24, a federal judge temporarily blocked the Department of Education from enforcing that definition. Still, for many students, the new caps won’t cover the combined cost of tuition, housing, and living expenses.

This could leave hundreds of thousands of students who borrow money for graduate school each year at the mercy of private lenders with higher interest rates and fewer repayment options.

Some experts and students also worry that the limits will threaten efforts to diversify the healthcare workforce by deterring minorities and people from low-income households from applying to graduate programs. A drop in incoming students could worsen existing rural and primary care shortages, they argue.

Many politicians and loan experts have acknowledged that the cost of higher education needs to be addressed. But the new federal loan limits are “just not going to achieve that goal,” said Todd Pickard, president of the American Academy of Physician Associates, one of several organizations that have sued the Department of Education over the rules.

“It’d be like if you had a hangnail and I cut your whole arm off instead of just taking care of your hangnail,” Pickard said. “The treatment doesn’t match the problem.”

‘A Rock and a Hard Place’

Students working toward what the law describes as “professional degrees” — including trainee doctors, dentists, pharmacists, and chiropractors — will be allowed to borrow up to $200,000 total, and no more than $50,000 a year.

Meanwhile, the median cost of attending a public medical school is nearly $300,000 over four years, while the median cost of a private medical school education exceeds $400,000, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges.

The caps were set even lower for those pursuing other “graduate” degrees, who face a $100,000 borrowing limit for federal loans over the course of their degree programs. The annual limit for this category of students is only $20,500. Students pursuing physical therapy, physician assistant, and nursing degrees were originally included in this group. But according to new guidance issued by the Department of Education on June 29, some of these students will at least temporarily be able to borrow up to the higher limit, .

The Department of Education, which has been sued by clinician trade groups and about two dozen states over the new rules, did not respond to questions for this article.

As the law was written, a physician assistant student who completed their degree within the average two to three years would not have been eligible to borrow the full $100,000. Meanwhile, physician assistants typically start their careers with an average debt of $112,000, meaning some could be forced to finance their education with higher-interest private loans.

“I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place,” said Olivia Trull, 24, who is scheduled to begin the physician assistant program at Northwest University in Kirkland, Washington, this summer. The 28-month program costs $137,000, with about $62,000 in tuition and fees estimated for the first year, she said. That doesn’t include living expenses.

Before the court order, Trull said she qualified for the maximum annual allotment under the new rules of $20,500 in federal loans during her first year of graduate school. The balance would need to be financed through a private lender.

She anticipated she would need up to $100,000 in private loans to finance her graduate degree and would face loan payments of more than $3,000 a month when she was done.

“I have to actually sit down and have a conversation with myself,” Trull said, to consider “if I want to be drowning in debt for the next 10 years of my life.” One private bank offered her a loan with an interest rate of nearly 14%, she said.

Pinckney, who said he finished his undergraduate degree with about $10,000 in federal student loan debt, said some of his friends who have already applied for private student loans have been quoted interest rates as high as 13%. Meanwhile, interest rates for federal loans for graduate students, which are set annually, are currently about 8-9%. Federal loans also offer more flexible repayment options than private loans typically do.

In May, 25 states and the District of Columbia against the Department of Education over the new rules. The complaint described the law’s “professional degree” definition as “arbitrary and capricious.”

In a separate filed in June, the American Academy of Physician Associates and the PA Education Association alleged that the new rules deny students the loan amounts needed to attend physician assistant schools. They argue that PA students should be able to access the higher loan limits available to students in medical school and other professional degree programs. (While “physician assistant” and “physician associate” typically refer to the same role, the AAPA in 2021 because of “concern that ‘assistant’ does not reflect the important role of PAs in delivering high-quality healthcare to patients.”)

Meanwhile, Trump administration officials have contended the cost of graduate school is too high across the board. Education Secretary Linda McMahon, speaking before a House committee in May about the new limits, said, “It is our overall goal to bring down the cost of college and education.”

Indeed, some experts acknowledge that the new limits may be helpful in bringing down costs. The federal Grad PLUS loan program, established by Congress 20 years ago, did not cap the amount graduate students could borrow in federal loans. That program was eliminated in the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.

“There is considerable evidence that people borrowed more than they really needed to go to school,” said Sandy Baum, a higher education economist and a senior fellow at the Urban Institute.

Already, some graduate programs have lowered tuition prices, Baum said. In May, for example, the it would lower the cost of its MBA programs by tens of thousands of dollars to fall below the new federal lending thresholds.

And yet Baum doesn’t anticipate many other schools will follow suit.

“I don’t think we’re going to see some dramatic decline in prices,” she said. “I think some programs could close down because they can’t manage.”

‘Tears Have Been Shed’

The new lending limits will also disproportionately affect Black students, Baum said, because they have historically borrowed more than white and Hispanic students.

For some students who borrowed money to finance their undergraduate degrees, the new limits will hit especially hard. Under the new rules, they will be subject to a lifetime limit of $257,000 in federal student loans.

“There will be students who can’t enroll,” Baum said.

Andrei Robu, 26, a medical student at the Medical University of South Carolina, leads the Financial Literacy Interest Group on the Charleston campus. He said many of his peers are worried that the lending limits will make the student body less diverse.

He is also concerned that, because the demand for acceptance into medical school is already so high, schools could prioritize entrance for students from wealthy backgrounds and “still fill up their classes.”

“That’s just not what we want in our physician workforce,” said Robu, who isn’t subject to the new rules as a current student. “We want to represent the population of the country at large.”

Jasmine Vasquez, 26, who has been accepted into the physician assistant program at South College in Atlanta, decided to defer her enrollment until 2027, partly to see if her financing options change. She is worried about taking on too much debt from a private bank.

“Tears have been shed multiple times,” said Vasquez, who is due to give birth in September. “It’s nothing that’s within my control.”

Betsy Mayotte, president of the Institute for Student Loan Advisors, expects the new rules will force some graduates into bankruptcy when they can’t afford to repay private loans.

First, though, she expects enrollment numbers to drop and some graduate programs to close because they can’t recruit enough students. Completion rates will also drop, she expects, as students run into federal loan limits partway through their degree programs.

Beyond that, she predicts healthcare graduates will seek jobs in high-paying specialties, exacerbating shortages in rural and underserved communities.

“They’re going to go where they can make the most money,” Mayotte said.

Pinckney said he is “not really sure” what the future holds. He paid for most of his undergraduate education by working while he was in school, but that’s typically not possible for full-time physician assistant students.

He has considered applying to a biomedical science graduate program instead, which he estimated would cost about $30,000 — an amount that’s “a lot more doable,” he said. It would allow him to potentially work in a lab or in pharmaceuticals, he said. It’s still aligned with medicine, he said, but it wouldn’t help him realize his goal of working with patients.

“Maybe this thing will blow over,” he said of the new federal loan limits. In the meantime, he’s holding out hope.

“If I can influence one person’s life, that would be my way of paying him forward for what he did,” he said, referring to the physician assistant who inspired him back in 1999. “It’s very hard to pivot from that dream.”

This article first appeared on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and is republished here under a .

But after surgery, Bates said, she couldn’t get out of bed or walk to the bathroom without help. She complained of intense pain radiating down her left leg, weakness in her knee, and a numbing sensation below it, according to hospital records. Bates, who worked as an Uber Eats driver, didn’t have the strength to drive a car.

Still, Bates said, the hospital told her it was time to go.

“They didn’t do any further X-rays or CTs or MRIs to figure out why my knee was numb,” she said. “And they were just like, you know, ‘It’ll go away.’”

Doctors said she was medically stable, Bates said, and because she had no health insurance, they could not send her to a rehabilitation hospital or a skilled nursing facility, which can charge thousands of dollars a day for such care.

“They were just like, We need the bed for somebody who has insurance,” she said. “That’s of course, you know, what they say without saying it.”

At least one firearm injury is treated in an American emergency room every . Tens of thousands die from their injuries every year. Many more, like Bates, are left to face long recoveries, steep medical debt, and enduring trauma.

How insurance affects the care of gunshot wound victims has remained shrouded in mystery — until now, due to a new analysis by The Trace and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News of data that Florida hospitals compile to collect payments from insurance companies and file with the state.

When uninsured patients arrive at hospitals in Florida with gunshot wounds, on average they spend significantly fewer days in the hospital — in some cases half the time — than those with health insurance, according to the data analysis.

Among the most severely injured patients, the uninsured stayed three fewer days in the hospital on average than their counterparts with insurance.

The data was obtained exclusively for this reporting on gun violence hospitalizations in the state, aided by Florida state law.

The newsrooms spent more than a year analyzing the records, which did not identify patients. The data contained patients’ insurance status, their residential ZIP code, their race, and other demographic info. Reporters reviewed academic studies and government documents and interviewed health policy experts, doctors, activists, and victims of gun violence or their relatives.

The results are a first-of-its-kind look at what happens to the insured and the uninsured who are shot and admitted to the hospital for treatment.

Across Florida, the analysis of hospital billing data from 2018 to 2024 obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration shows:

• Uninsured patients make up a quarter of the more than 20,000 gunshot wound hospitalizations identified, making them the largest single group treated for firearm injuries.
• Uninsured gunshot victims had hospital stays of about six days on average, only three-quarters of the time spent by patients with private insurance and less than half the average stay for patients on traditional Medicaid, the public health insurance program for poor and disabled people.
• The gap in hospital care persisted regardless of hospital size, location, or ownership type, including at facilities that receive taxpayer money with a mandate to treat all patients regardless of their ability to pay.
• Of the gunshot wound patients, nearly half were Black, making the group highly overrepresented. About a quarter of nonwhite patients were uninsured, versus fewer than a fifth of white patients.

The inequality echoes a in U.S. healthcare against Black and Latino patients, groups that and a .

The U.S. has deaths than other wealthy nations, and no group suffers more than Black Americans like Bates. Black people are far to become victims of a firearm homicide than white people, according to the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health.

Patient outreach workers say hospital personnel might perceive gunshot victims as gang members or troublemakers who deserve blame for getting shot. rehab centers refuse to admit gunshot victims more often than other patients, and some medical records from hospitals were littered with racist or insensitive descriptions of patients and their behavior.

The damage can be lasting: Patients who after a traumatic injury have a higher risk of serious complications, including infection, hemorrhage, nerve damage, and death, especially if wounds — and mental health concerns — are left untreated.

, a University of Florida professor and vice chair for research in community health and family medicine, said there’s evidence that financial incentives drive care — for patients and for hospitals.

Regardless of how often the care team is told to follow quality protocols, Mainous said, “ultimately there’s a business aspect to it, whether the physician is thinking about it or not, whether the nurses think about it or not. But somebody is.”

The Florida data findings come at a time when Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis and state lawmakers have pushed to make guns cheaper and more widely available, despite a in the state from 2014 to 2023, and when President Donald Trump’s administration has rolled back legislation from the Joe Biden presidency to curb gun violence and .

allows eligible residents to carry a concealed firearm and to openly carry a firearm without a state-issued license. State law also prevents cities and counties from enacting stricter gun control measures.

In early June, Florida Attorney General James Uthmeier to strike down the state’s three-day waiting period for receiving a purchased gun, arguing it is unconstitutional. Uthmeier’s request is part of a proposed settlement of a lawsuit brought by the National Rifle Association.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and The Trace requested to speak with administrators at nine of Florida’s large hospital systems to ask why the disparities exist. None agreed to an interview.

Sarah Cannon, communications director at Tallahassee Memorial HealthCare, would not agree to an interview or address Bates’ account of her care for gunshot injuries.

“Clinical decisions, including acute medical intervention, readiness for discharge, and post-acute care needs, are guided by the patient’s condition and response to treatment,” she said in an email.

Cannon said the hospital offers support to patients after discharge, including from social workers who coordinate care and access to services including post-acute care placement, home healthcare, and primary care or specialty follow-up.

Bates said she had to coordinate her own care after being released from the hospital. She said nobody called to schedule a follow-up test of her leg’s muscle function, and her medical records show she did not receive one.

“If I had had insurance,” she said, “they would have definitely kept me there for at least another week to work with me on my standing and walking.”

‘It’s a Business’

Some of Florida’s largest hospitals showed huge differences in length of stay for gun injuries, the ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News-Trace analysis showed. In Miami at Jackson Memorial, the average number of days in the hospital for uninsured patients was 6.6; for those with private insurance, it was 10.7; and for those on traditional Medicaid, it was 15.4. Jackson Memorial did not respond to requests for comment.

Tampa General Hospital reported 4.9 days for uninsured patients, 8 days for those with private insurance, and 13.6 days for Medicaid patients. “To suggest that care decisions for trauma-related patients, and in this case, gun shot victims, are influenced by insurance status is not only absurd, it’s inaccurate,” Amanda Bevis, a hospital spokesperson, said in a written statement. “At Tampa General, every patient is treated equally, based on clinical need and urgency, not insurance coverage.”

And at UF Health Jacksonville, it was 7.2 days for the uninsured, 8.5 days for the privately insured, and 13.8 days for patients on traditional Medicaid. UF Health declined to comment.

Broward Health in Fort Lauderdale reported 7.5 days for uninsured patients, 10.5 days for privately insured patients, and 12.2 days for those on traditional Medicaid. “Insurance status does not impact treatment plans for patients,” Jennifer Smith, a Broward Health spokesperson, said in an email. “Our physicians always proceed in the best interest of the patient regardless of reimbursement or what length of stay may be required.”

Memorial Regional Hospital in Hollywood reported 6.7 days for uninsured patients, 8.8 days for privately insured patients, and 9.5 days for those on traditional Medicaid. Tania Ordaz, a hospital spokesperson, said in an email that she disagreed with the findings: “Treatment decisions are based on the patient’s clinical condition and what is necessary to ensure a safe and appropriate transition of care, not on the patient’s insurance status.”

Trauma surgeons and academics said the Florida data aligns with research nationwide on where gun violence occurs and who’s most affected. Some said they fear the differences contribute to long-standing disparities in America’s healthcare system along the lines of race and class.

The Florida hospital data showed gunshot injuries are concentrated in a handful of ZIP codes marked by poverty, disinvestment, redlining, and other injustices stemming from racial discrimination.

“Why would people without insurance be discharged earlier?” Mainous said. “Because they’re in better health? I think we’ve got a lot of data that would suggest that’s not true.”

Once they leave the hospital, people with commercial insurance or traditional Medicaid are more than twice as likely to receive follow-up care from another provider — such as a rehab center or home health service — as uninsured patients.

Those patients are staying longer, in part, because hospital case managers coordinate their transfers to other facilities, which can be time-consuming and take days.

“You have to go through insurance authorization and approval,” said , a trauma surgeon formerly at Jackson Memorial in Miami who now practices in Oregon. He said patients with private insurance might have access to rehab, preventive care, and training for both the patient and their caregiver to “help them transition to a completely new phase of life.”

For patients without insurance, he said, “sometimes our hands are a little bit tied.”

“The hospital is telling us that this patient has to leave the hospital because they’re medically ready,” he said, “and so I guess we’re discharging them to their car or to their tent, and it doesn’t feel right, but I think that would probably explain some of the differences” in length of stay.

, a trauma surgeon at Jackson Memorial, said hospital staff work to ensure that uninsured patients with long recoveries learn to care for wounds and to enlist family help at home.

Valenzuela said the county-owned hospital does not send uninsured patients home to fend for themselves. She goes into neighborhoods and follows up with patients as part of a Miami-Dade County violence intervention program, whose social workers help them access food, employment, and more to heal and feel safe.

“We know that full recovery is beyond just the hospital and even the rehab centers, even the best ones,” Valenzuela said, pointing to housing and navigating the healthcare system as factors.

runs the Miami-Dade program, which connects victims of gun violence with social workers who visit bedside at the hospital and an intensive care unit-trained nurse who visits at home to provide wound care and other services.

Rawlins said young, Black gunshot patients without health insurance are often at a loss when they leave the hospital about how to schedule a follow-up appointment or manage their mental health.

“After they have been shot and they’re getting out of the hospital and they’re still in crisis,” he said, “their concern is more: How am I going to now pay the rent? How am I going to live? Who’s going to take care of me?”

Often, he said, his uninsured clients leave the hospital before they are ready.

“That’s the reality of it: It’s a business,” he said. “It’s like a hotel. You know, checkout time: You got to go. We got to make room for someone, for a next customer.”

How Long Is Long Enough?

Alea Bates said the hospital discharged her with crutches and one prescription: a seven-day supply of the painkiller Percocet.

A family member drove Bates home. She wore a leg brace, with bandages on her back, stomach, hand, forearm, and feet. When she tried to get out of the car, Bates said, her knee gave and she fell.

Surgeons, health policy experts, and researchers say physicians follow evidence-based best practices for treating gunshot wounds and that a shorter hospital stay does not necessarily reflect a lower-level of care.

, an assistant professor of surgery at the University of Pennsylvania who conducts research on violence reduction, offered one explanation.

In published in The Journal of Trauma and Acute Care Surgery, Kaufman and colleagues found that patients who were admitted while uninsured but then enrolled in Medicaid during their hospitalization — and who needed ongoing rehabilitative care after discharge — spent more time in the hospital and had higher costs.

“I have personally been in situations where I felt like I did the best I could for a patient, but they would say, ‘You’re kicking me out,’” she said. “Sometimes, what the doctor is telling you doesn’t match what you are feeling in your body.”

But Kaufman said: “I’m not going to tell you hospitals never discriminate. That would not be realistic. I would say it is more indirect.”

Kaufman said she couldn’t judge whether Bates stayed in the hospital long enough because she was not her doctor. Still, she said, Bates “didn’t get what she needed from our healthcare system.”

Unlike many states, Florida excludes most single adults without children, like Bates, from Medicaid eligibility, making it exceedingly uncommon for a Medicaid patient to have been admitted as an uninsured adult.

Gunshot survivors endure bleeding and oozing flesh wounds and pain, and they experience . “These experiences are common, but they are not talked about,” Kaufman said. “Mental health is part of the recovery process.”

Recovering the ability to walk or use an arm or a leg after a gunshot wound requires rehab and physical therapy that can be out of financial reach for uninsured patients, said , a pediatric surgeon and an associate professor at the University of Maryland who that uninsured patients hospitalized for traumatic injuries have shorter stays than insured patients.

A shorter stay, he said, “suggests that these patients are not getting the same level of care, and that’s going to put them at risk for functional deficits down the road.”

He said it is impossible to arrive at a set number of days that any patient should remain in a hospital. Factors include the severity of their injury, their age, and any other illnesses they have.

“We’re looking for that Goldilocks length of stay,” Englum said, “and unfortunately, it is not perfectly defined for any specific admission, and it’s not perfectly defined for any specific patient.”

‘Oh, Shit. He Shot Me.’

Bates had delivered her last order for the night when she was shot. It was December 2019: As she was walking back to her car, she heard two loud bangs. Just kids playing pranks, she thought to herself. Then she turned toward the sound and saw a gun pointed at her.

“In that split second it registered in my mind, like, ‘Oh, shit. He shot me,’” Bates said. “I had some brief, like, burning, but it wasn’t registering in my brain right away what it was.”

Within seconds, Bates said, the stranger emptied the clip of his handgun into her body, even after she fell to the ground. He shot her seven times — twice in the back and once each in the pelvis, stomach, left forearm, right thumb, and right foot.

Bates screamed. She reached for her cellphone to call 911. She said residents came out of their apartments. Someone took her phone to tell the emergency dispatcher the address. Another person pressed towels on her wounds to slow the bleeding. An ambulance rushed her to Tallahassee Memorial.

Bates said she did not believe race was a factor in the care she received. But she believed that the circumstances surrounding her shooting — that it happened while she was working, and that she did not know the shooter — affected the way doctors and nurses viewed her.

Language in medical records can sometimes signal a bias in clinicians and perpetuate differences in care that patients receive, said , an associate professor at the Boston University School of Public Health who conducts research on exposure to gun violence.

Jay said bias based on patients’ race, income, or insurance status can deny some people necessary treatment once they leave the hospital.

He said his research suggests the healthcare system treats gunshot survivors and motor vehicle accident victims differently based on perceptions of “whether the victim was in no way at fault. They made assumptions when a person was violently shot.”

“The results are consistent with what we hear so much from hospital outreach workers for gunshot victims,” he said. “They say there is substantial bias. There is an assumption that they contributed to their condition with risky behavior.”

The preoperative notes in Bates’ medical records describe her as “a pleasant 39-year-old female who sustained multiple gunshot wounds to her abdomen, pelvis and extremities last night after performing Uber Eats delivery.”

Bates said it mattered to her caregivers what she was doing when she was shot.

“The nurses and doctors, they all talk about that stuff,” she said. “They were like, ‘Oh, my God, you were ambushed. That’s so scary.’

“I was working. Like, I don’t know these people. And the fact that they were teenagers, I think that that is what maybe changed the narrative,” she said. “Because I feel a lot of times people blame you for what happened.

“But when I was asked and I told them what happened and my story and how I got there,” she said, “I think just the shock in people’s eyes of like, ‘Oh, my God. So you really were, like, you know, minding your business.’”

She added: “And it also wasn’t in a sketchy part of town, if I can just say that. I was in a predominantly white complex. So I think that’s what saved me.”

‘Less Than a Human Being’

Bates had received care at the hospital before as an insured patient.

She had lost her job in the legal department of a state agency — along with her insurance — two months before she was shot.

As an uninsured patient, Bates said, “they kind of just dismiss you. It makes you feel like less than a human being.”

She said she felt ignored when she told doctors she didn’t feel safe going home after four days. She said the physical therapist working with her at the hospital had persuaded the facility to let her stay an extra day.

“We would like, as a medical community, I think as a society, to see everybody get the same care,” said Englum, the University of Maryland trauma surgeon. “Regardless of what color their skin is, what insurance status they have — we want them to get appropriate care.”

The reason for racial or ethnic differences in care is hard to tease out, Englum said. Is it that there’s mistrust of the medical system in some Black and Latino communities, leading people to avoid going to rehab because they don’t want to be there? Is it an income issue? Is it that medical providers see some patients and, due to implicit or explicit bias, think, “That’s as good as they’re going to get?”

“Getting that care is what you need to get your full functional outcome back. And if you’re not getting it,” he said, “patients are suffering that didn’t have to.”

At home, Bates said, she depended on family members to help her out of bed, drive her places, even help her feel safe out in public.

“I really didn’t know how to stand or move or walk around,” she said. “I had to figure it out.”

She still fears loud noises, which remind her of being shot. Bates said she and her dog stay indoors on July Fourth and New Year’s Eve.

“The fireworks were going off, and I was paralyzed,” Bates said of her first New Year’s Eve after being shot. “I was literally sitting there crying. My cousin actually came outside and put my noise-canceling headphones on and turned the music on so that I couldn’t hear anymore. That’s the only way that I could move from outside to inside.”

Bates said her follow-up care included getting her stitches removed at an orthopedic clinic that has physicians who work at the hospital and had performed the initial surgery.

During the visit, Bates said, the orthopedic clinic’s staff reminded her of the unpaid balance from her surgery, which was about $1,200 for physician services. She still owed the hospital $52,000 for treatment, according to her medical bills, and an additional $5,300 for the anesthesiologist. Bates was not working at the time.

Bates said a community outpatient clinic provided physical therapy at a reduced cost and that the victim advocate unit at the Tallahassee Police Department helped find her mental health counseling and get her financial aid from Florida’s .

By 2021, Bates developed a cyst on the gunshot wound to her right thumb, which required surgery. But, she said, the clinic would not perform the surgery until she paid her $1,200 balance. She said friends paid the bill so she could have the surgery.

Bates’ knee bothered her. “Even with going through physical therapy,” she said, “it was still like I couldn’t feel it.”

Bates said she now has private health insurance that pays for her mental health therapy. She pays for physical therapy out-of-pocket.

“It’s crazy that in this country somebody else can hurt you,” Bates said, and “you have to pay for what they did to you.”

“So it’s like you’re triple-paying: You’re paying every day mentally, you’re paying with the bills, and you’re paying by them saying, We know that this is not your fault, but we still have to make our money.”

Methodology

The Trace and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News examined more than 20 million inpatient hospitalizations in Florida from 2018 to 2024, using data obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration. We identified 20,255 gunshot wound-related visits using the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s injury surveillance case definition, which relies on diagnosis codes. We limited the analysis to initial encounters and excluded patients who died in the hospital or left against medical advice. We excluded cases in the top 1% for hospital length of stay (68 days or more) to prevent these outliers from disproportionately influencing results.

Our primary finding compares the average length of stay of uninsured patients with that of privately insured patients. We chose privately insured patients as the reference group because many researchers believe their care on average is long enough to be effective but not longer than medically necessary. Overall, uninsured patients had hospital stays that were about 25% shorter on average than privately insured patients’ and 50% shorter than those of patients on traditional Medicaid. In most cases we also found that, within the same hospital, uninsured patients had shorter stays than privately insured ones.

To assess whether age or injury severity explained the shorter lengths of stay for uninsured patients, we calculated and fit regression models for Florida’s highest-volume gunshot wound hospitals. We found that, in nearly all cases, the gap narrowed slightly but did not disappear.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News data editor Holly K. Hacker contributed to this report.

This article was produced in partnership with The Trace, a nonprofit newsroom covering gun violence in America. .

This article first appeared on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and is republished here under a .

Since the summer of 2025, Florida leaders have aimed to make the state the first to drop some of those vaccine mandates. The anti-vaccine rhetoric has often been positioned as a push for “medical freedom.” Related efforts to revise laws and regulations rumbled along at the state health department and in the legislature for months.

But by the end of April, the fight seemed to have stalled out.

In the opening minutes of a special session on April 28, the Republican speaker of the Florida House, Daniel Perez, refused to bring the vaccine issue to the floor.

“There is some concern here, on my behalf, about children being in school without measles, mumps, polio, and chickenpox vaccines that have been working for decades,” Perez told reporters afterward.

For now, at least, the push to end childhood vaccine mandates has failed in Florida, and that outcome could offer insights into such efforts’ chances in other states. An Associated Press analysis found that at least 350 anti-vaccine bills in state legislatures last year. Many focused on relaxing requirements for vaccines in schools.

Ladapo: Mandates Are Bodily ‘Slavery’

Last September, Gov. Ron DeSantis and Florida Surgeon General Joseph Ladapo set the stage for the anti-vaccine campaign. They held a news conference at a private Christian school east of Tampa, where the state would work to end all vaccine mandates in Florida law.

“Every last one of them is wrong and drips with disdain and slavery,” he said.

“Who am I, as a government or anyone else,” Ladapo said, “or who am I as a man standing here now, to tell you what you should put in your body?”

Political analysts say that the prospects for efforts to cut back on vaccine mandates are closely tied to the political prospects of Republicans trying to maintain their majorities at the state and federal levels. DeSantis is term-limited, and his governorship ends in January. And the congressional midterms are in November.

“For Republicans, they’re a little bit leery,” said , an associate professor of political science at the University of Central Florida. “They know we’re in an election cycle. They know political history. And it’s pretty clear that the president’s party tends to lose seats in the midterm election.”

Although hundreds of anti-vaccine bills have been introduced in state legislatures, the noisy rhetoric and splashy headlines don’t guarantee passage, said , an associate professor of health policy at Georgetown University.

In many states, including Florida, “there’s a disconnect between what we hear a lot from a potentially vocal minority about how they feel about vaccines compared to where the majority of people really are,” Whitener said.

“For most people,” she said, ”they still support the idea of near-universal vaccination, still understand the importance of vaccinating children to protect people who can’t be vaccinated.”

A last year by KFF and The Washington Post showed 81% of parents supported school vaccine requirements.

“They support these vaccines,” said , a senior vice president at KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News. “They support protecting their kids through these mandates. And that includes Florida parents.”

Unwinding Mandates by Law, and by Regulation

To undo some of the vaccine mandates, Florida’s legislature would have to pass new bills. Others could be changed by a rulemaking process at the state Department of Health, including for chickenpox, hepatitis B, pneumococcal conjugate, and Haemophilus influenzae type B.

At a Dec. 12 forum in Panama City hosted by the health department, public comment went on for hours, with those who wanted to keep the mandates slightly outnumbering those who opposed them.

“This is about freedom,” said one speaker, Larry Downs Jr. “The default setting should be freedom, not these corporate chemical vaccine injections.”

Florida schoolteacher Marion Fesmire has worked overseas. She defended vaccine requirements in part because of some of the suffering she has seen.

“I’ve seen kids with polio. I’ve seen blind kids. I’ve seen kids die before they’re even 10 years old. It’s heartbreaking,” Fesmire said.

The health department hasn’t held any more public forums on vaccines since then.

Nor has the department filed the paperwork needed to change the vaccination rules, including a statement of regulatory costs. In that, the department must estimate whether changing the rules could affect personal income, the number of visitors to the state, or the size of the Florida workforce.

In an April 13 email, the health department said that it is “currently in the rulemaking process” and that any updates would be posted in the Florida Administrative Registrar.

Pushing for a New Exemption

During the winter legislative session, a , didn’t include removing mandates but did feature a new kind of exemption. In addition to a religious or medical exemption, a parent could exempt a child for reasons of personal conscience. This type of exemption is .

Democrats, the minority in the Florida Legislature, came out against it.

“It’s currently very easy to opt out for religious reasons from school immunizations,” state Sen. (D) said while speaking from the chamber floor. “Why is this bill necessary? Given that context, is your bill just about giving people more options to ignore school immunizations, or is it intended to solve a public health problem?”

A few Republicans also opposed the bill. State Sen. (R) brought up the measles outbreak. Florida is the state with the number of measles cases this year, with 155 as of June 6.

“I truly believe that this is a dangerous bill, and I cannot vote for it,” Harrell said.

The bill also included a permanent ban on mandates for any mRNA-based vaccines and would have allowed nonprescription sales of ivermectin. That anti-parasite medication rose to popularity as an alternative treatment for covid, although the Food and Drug Administration determined that the available clinical trial data does not demonstrate effectiveness against covid in humans.

Florida’s previous surgeon general, Scott Rivkees, , calling it “the equivalent of walking into a pharmacy and requesting amoxicillin for a self-diagnosed infection.”

In the end, when the failed to make it to committee.

Yet, people on both sides say the Florida fight is far from over, especially given the lingering mistrust of the medical establishment after the covid pandemic.

“There are many more people now who have skepticism about the wisdom of public health policy and law,” said Barbara Loe Fisher, an anti-vaccine activist who has been working to end mandates since the early 1980s.

“I don’t think that that’s going to disappear,” she said. “I think it’s going to grow.”

This article is from a partnership that includes , , and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

This article first appeared on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and is republished here under a .

Her earliest memory is of standing on the passenger seat of her dad’s car as a toddler, wearing a peach-colored blouse, while he drove from their Kentucky home to Florida to pick up drugs. On a stop for a burger, she met Ronald McDonald.

“I grew up with the impression that that’s how you paid your bills,” Madden said. “That’s how your kids got things.”

By 16, she was addicted to pain pills. By 30, methamphetamine. She lost custody of two children and gave up two more for adoption at birth. She served time in the county jail and state prison.

Pregnant again at 40, Madden resolved to stop using. It was then that she learned of The Hub in Whitesburg, a town of 1,575 residents, her hometown.

Over the past two years, the state of Kentucky has sent hundreds of thousands of opioid settlement dollars to the rural eastern region of the state to help minimize the ramifications of drug misuse. The Hub, a program that oversees a network of community centers offering a range of services from recovery peer support to canned food to sterile syringes, is part of that effort.

In April, Kentucky Attorney General Russell Coleman announced $320,000 would be awarded to the Kentucky River District Health Department’s . There are now Hubs in four rural eastern Kentucky counties — Knott, Lee, Letcher, and Owsley, all of which are among the nation’s — addressing substance use disorders, housing, hunger, employment, and other challenges. The program also operates The Hub on Wheels, which provides services throughout the district.

In 2025, The Hub received $545,000 from the same source, facilitating expansion from two to five counties. (The fifth Hub will be in Perry County.) The new $320,000 is a two-year grant to develop a program to help women who’ve been incarcerated reintegrate into society.

Both grants are from Kentucky’s approximately $1 billion share of the $57.8 billion for state and local governments from the to resolve litigation for their role in fueling the opioid overdose crisis.

Madden believes investment in harm reduction services is money well spent. She’s witnessed them work in her own life. She’s found solid footing for recovery at The Hub.

But the Trump administration is cutting federal funding for such efforts, disputing their benefits. A told programs across the country that they could no longer expect federal funding. The order stipulated that discretionary grants issued by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration should not be spent on “so-called ‘harm reduction’” efforts, claiming they “only facilitate illegal drug use and its attendant harm.”

Advocates for these services in this rural region, which cast its ballots for President Donald Trump in all three elections, beg to differ.

Meeting Folks Where They Live

Whitesburg — home to a lively cultural scene, including — is a town residents are fiercely proud to call home. The Hub is housed in a storefront on Main Street, neighboring City Hall, Hazard Coffee Company, Cut-Away Barber & Beauty Shop, and the fire station. Like the other Hubs, it provides a range of services targeted to the needs of the community.

The inaugural Hub, launched in 2022 in Beattyville, the Lee County seat, two hours northwest of Whitesburg, offers breakfast and lunch, a food pantry, a clothing closet, a laundry room, and a computer lab. Also: , a medication that can quickly reverse an opioid overdose; drug test strips; hepatitis C treatment; sterile syringes; and wound care.

The program’s motto is “Meeting you where you are but not leaving you there!” It’s founded on the principles of . Harm reduction services are designed to minimize the effects of drug use, keep people safe, and treat them with respect, until they might be ready to enter recovery. The support includes housing, food, healthcare, and overdose prevention tools.

JoAnn Fraley is Kentucky River’s harm reduction program coordinator and its Hub initiative director. “In order for anybody to sustain recovery, they have to have financial stability, they have to have transportation, and they have to have a home,” she said. “We try to fill those gaps.”

While critics suggest that exchanging clean syringes for used ones abets drug use, research published in the Journal of Substance Use and Addiction Treatment indicates that people who participate in syringe services programs are more likely than those who don’t to or stop using drugs altogether, and that they are more likely to enter and remain in treatment. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, syringe services programs also by about half.

In 2025, Kentucky River’s Hub model was named one of 19 award winners by the National Association of County and City Health Officials.

“What jazzes me about it is it’s a community approach to harm reduction,” said Lauren Carr, who advises the Kentucky Association of Counties on how best to utilize opioid settlement funds. “Whether that’s feeding a hungry stomach, or putting clothes on somebody’s back, or giving them clean [syringes], you’re meeting that person’s needs.”

“It can be that lifeline,” Carr said.

Paying Back for Good

Becky Todd, who leads the Beattyville Hub’s team, is a community health worker and peer support specialist. In April 2024, she was released from jail, having served multiple sentences on drug-related charges. She walked 3 miles from jail to The Hub with nowhere else to go. She’s working toward her bachelor’s degree in social work at Eastern Kentucky University.

“I could not have done it without this place,” Todd said. “It’s my saving grace.”

Amber McDaniel recalls the first time she entered The Hub, after more than a decade of addiction, having lost her home, her kids, and her family’s support. “I didn’t know where to turn, didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I mean, I was about to lose my mind.” She’s now a Hub staff member .

Hannah Stamper was placed in foster care and began using meth at 14. She was drawn to dealing drugs because “I loved for people to need me.” She’s now on staff as a member of , a program that trains AmeriCorps members to work in the recovery field. “People today need me in a good way, and I love that.”

Fraley has witnessed a transition in Lee County. A half-dozen years ago, conversations in public meetings about addiction and homelessness were strained “because nobody wanted to talk about it or acknowledge it.”

The community sees The Hub’s impact, she said, “and now they’re, like, ‘Whoa. We love you.’”

Scott Lockard, the district’s public health director, said a combination of data and anecdotal observations substantiates the initiative’s success, including an increase in the number of people entering treatment and a decline in reported communicable diseases.

“I’ve been in public health for 36 years, and it’s one of the most effective interventions I’ve seen,” Lockard said.

The Kentucky River team worked to educate the community about the potential outcomes of the Hub model, and Fraley said there was little resistance, just concern that the money be well spent. She said the planning has always included people who have lived with addiction.

“Their voice needs to be at every table,” she said.

Lockard agrees. To ensure the community is investing this money wisely, he said, “we’ll talk to those people who are experiencing the problem, find out what they think would help them best, and then look for those evidence-based interventions.”

Jannie Gatlin and Mandy Parker, who both are in recovery, attended a recent crafting class at the Whitesburg Hub. Gatlin, who started taking fentanyl in Colorado after her first son died at 2 months old of a digestive disorder, comes almost every day with her toddler, Hunter.

Parker was prescribed opioids for pain from a kidney disorder. When those pills became less available, she turned to street drugs. “That’s just the nature of the beast,” she said.

She believes The Hub is helping break the stigma of substance use disorder in her community. When people see “real change happening,” she said, there’s a ripple effect. “It makes a difference.”

She appreciates that The Hub is here on Main Street — right, she firmly believes, where it should be.

This article first appeared on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and is republished here under a .

The drug is now marketed and sold across the state in roadside shops and small-town strip malls with little oversight from health authorities. Highway billboards advertise ivermectin as “Available Without a Prescription in Tennessee!” while dozens of pharmacies offer highly concentrated pills, sometimes at 10 or 20 times the potency of a standard tablet.

Ivermectin is a approved by the FDA for treating , which can generally be done with a single dose of three or four prescription-strength tablets. It is also used as a dewormer for horses and other livestock.

Its popularity surged during the pandemic as fringe doctors and anti-vaccine activists promoted it as a treatment for covid. have shown that ivermectin is against covid.

Nonetheless, it has since become a symbol of resistance against the medical establishment among conservatives and followers of the Make America Healthy Again movement, championed by Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

Timothy Caulfield, a professor at the University of Alberta who studies health misinformation, said ivermectin became an “ideological flag” during the covid pandemic, opening the door for influencers to push the drug for other ailments to a “captured audience” even without proof it works for those conditions.

“This is really about profit. This is about political identity. This is about creating distrust in the existing biomedical community. This is about money,” Caulfield said in an interview with ABC News, which partnered with ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News to report on ivermectin.

After a hantavirus outbreak on a cruise ship earlier this year, unproven claims that ivermectin is effective against the virus have been spread by some popular social media accounts and right-wing figures, including former congresswoman . The World Health Organization says it has seen that shows ivermectin is an effective hantavirus treatment.

Tennessee’s ivermectin bill was shepherded by a Republican supermajority in 2022. Its passage blindsided state medical officials and handed a victory to medical groups that spread covid misinformation.

Some pharmacy websites now offer the drug as a treatment for covid, “long haul vax symptoms,” diabetes, or cancer — despite no evidence of its effectiveness for those purposes — while the largely gives pharmacists immunity from lawsuits or professional sanctions related to ivermectin.

The law was also a harbinger of legislation to come: More than two dozen states have since considered look-alike bills that would make the politicized medication available without a requiring a doctor visit. 

John Mafi, a UCLA internal medicine physician who has studied the rise of ivermectin among cancer patients, worries it will lure people away from proven treatments. He co-authored a new study in prescribing rates for ivermectin and another antiparasitic drug, particularly in the South. The rise followed a January 2025 episode of the Joe Rogan Experience podcast in which actor Mel Gibson claimed ivermectin and other drugs cured three friends with stage 4 cancer.

“It’s going back to 19th-century quack science,” Mafi said about off-label use of ivermectin. “It is alarming that I’m seeing this really unproven therapy being touted to so many potentially vulnerable Americans.”

The FDA says ivermectin can be . Tennessee has seen a small but concerning rise in signs of overuse. The Tennessee Poison Center, which fields calls from people exposed to drugs or toxic substances, received more than 60 calls for possible ivermectin poisoning in 2025, the most since 2021. They included reports of vomiting, blurred vision, neurological problems, and difficulty walking.

“People are taking this because they just feel unwell. It’s almost like a panacea now,” said Rebecca Bruccoleri, the poison center’s medical director. “I’ve heard rumblings on the internet of using ivermectin for an alternative cancer treatment, and we’re seeing it definitely in here.”

Pharmacist Paul Hughey has dispensed ivermectin under the new law at two Tennessee pharmacies: Mt. Juliet Pharmacy and Compound Rx. He estimated that “up to 20 people in a week” are buying ivermectin but that peak demand was double or triple that amount.

For years, Hughey said in an interview, customers have relayed emotional “testimonies” about the drug healing the sick, “especially with the cancer patients.”

“I’ll get a doctor call in and they say: ‘Guess what. So-and-so is cured.’ And it’s just amazing to hear that. So anybody who doubts that,” Hughey said, “I don’t really know that they’re practicing medicine. I think they’re just following the narrative.”

‘I’ve Taken Bucketloads of This Stuff’

The linchpin of Tennessee’s ivermectin market is , a conservative doctor to the creation of the 2022 ivermectin law. She has with pharmacies across the state empowering them to sell the drug.

Tennessee’s law to dispense ivermectin without a specific prescription for each patient, through a “collaborative pharmacy practice agreement” with a doctor who provides what is functionally a pre-written, nonspecific prescription for all potential customers.

In podcast interviews, Sibley has said she has made as many as 40 of these agreements with Tennessee pharmacies, which she said forward her the paperwork on each ivermectin customer. Before selling the drug, pharmacies are required to ask customers questions about medical conditions and medications that could cause complications if taken with ivermectin. Afterward, the collaborating physician also is expected to receive a record for each person who purchases ivermectin.

“We literally have folks coming from all over the world to get our ivermectin,” Sibley said on in February 2025. “As the collaborator for these pharmacies, I get every person’s sheet.”

“They’re from every state,” she said. “They’re from Canada. They’re from Europe.”

Sibley did not respond to requests for comment.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News has independently confirmed that Sibley signed agreements with at least 10 pharmacies. The agreements say pharmacists shall dispense ivermectin only in Tennessee, where Sibley is licensed, although one of those pharmacies said friends and family in Tennessee can “.”

Hughey, the Tennessee pharmacist, said Sibley had prescribing agreements ready to go when the law was enacted. He credited her with advancing ivermectin sales throughout the state.

“Had Dr. Sibley not stepped in and really pushed forward, there’s no telling how hard it would have been,” Hughey said. “It would have been a lot less widespread.”

Sibley also works with Children’s Health Defense, the Kennedy-founded group that has become one of the nation’s most influential anti-vaccine organizations. In podcasts, Sibley has referred to the covid vaccine as a “” and “ that’s ever been produced.”

Separately, before Tennessee legislators in 2024 about an alleged plot to change the weather and block sunlight. The New York Times then included her .

Sibley has said in podcast interviews that she was told by God to treat covid patients. She said she has advocated for ivermectin ever since.

“God agrees with what I’m doing,” Sibley said in 2023 on the podcast , which is recorded in Nashville. “I wake up every day and I say: ‘Yes, sir. I’m reporting to duty.’”

In legislative and government hearings throughout 2022, Sibley testified that she had treated around 4,400 people with ivermectin, including some Tennessee lawmakers, all without taking payment. Sibley described ivermectin as “a wonder drug” and said making it more available “.”

“I’ve taken bucketloads of this stuff myself,” Sibley said . “I feel like I’ve been a good test subject.”

Sibley has said she dispenses ivermectin using treatment guidelines developed by Paul Marik, who in 2020 co-founded the Independent Medical Alliance, a medical group that has promoted ivermectin as an effective treatment for , , , and .

Some Tennessee pharmacies now follow those protocols, too. The protocols recommend patients take 1.5 to five times as much ivermectin as is normally prescribed to treat parasites, with the dose taken for days or weeks instead of just once.

Marik and other ivermectin proponents sued the FDA in 2022 after it discouraged the use of the drug for covid by tweeting: “You are not a horse. You are not a cow. Seriously, y’all. Stop it.” The agency settled the lawsuit with no admission of wrongdoing and deleted the viral tweet in 2024.

The American Board of Internal Medicine has revoked Sibley’s and Marik’s board certifications but declined to explain why. Sibley still holds a Tennessee medical license; Marik is based in Virginia and is not licensed. Sibley and Marik the internal medicine board’s actions.

In response to questions from ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News, Marik, through an Independent Medical Alliance spokesperson, said medical science benefits from “open discussion of ideas and treatments.”

“Many independent doctors have reported that treatments like Ivermectin, in conjunction with traditional treatments, are showing promise. These ideas should be explored,” alliance spokesperson Lynne Kristensen said in an emailed statement.

Marik testified in favor of Tennessee’s ivermectin legislation in 2022, telling lawmakers that it is necessary because people would otherwise buy animal-grade ivermectin in stronger dosages meant for livestock.

“They’re buying ivermectin from farm stores. We don’t know the quality,” Marik said at a March 2022 legislative hearing on the Tennessee bill. “So this would prevent that from happening.”

Tennessee Does Not Track Its Ivermectin Market

Arkansas, Idaho, Louisiana, and Texas enacted similar laws in 2025, and legislation that makes ivermectin available without the need for a doctor visit has been introduced or debated in at least 24 other states, according to a ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News analysis. That means half the country could be following Tennessee down an unlit path, because no one knows the full scope of its ivermectin market.

Tennessee does not effectively track which pharmacies offer ivermectin this way, and the state government has been unable to produce some foundational documents that pharmacies are legally required to file before they sell the drug, according to a ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News investigation.

Doctors and pharmacies are the Tennessee Department of Health when they sign agreements that allow ivermectin to be dispensed without patient-specific prescriptions, although it is not clear whether this consistently occurs.

In response to a ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News public records request for those ivermectin notifications filed by pharmacies, the agency over three months produced records from only 12 pharmacies, half of which have agreements with Sibley. The agency said it did not locate records related to at least 13 others that ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News has identified as selling ivermectin without requiring individual prescriptions.

Department of Health spokesperson Dean Flener said the agency would not answer questions about whether or how it regulates ivermectin or the pharmacies that distribute it.

Tennessee has said it does not track how much of the drug is sold in the state, and the amount is not well captured by federal or insurance data sources. That’s because the drug is often sold at compounding pharmacies, which make customized medications that are not FDA-approved and rarely covered by insurance. Drugmakers and wholesalers did not respond to questions about how much ivermectin they supply to pharmacies in the state.

Even the Independent Medical Alliance, one of ivermectin’s , says it doesn’t know how much is flowing through Tennessee.

States are getting pressure from clinicians ”who have had success with the use of ivermectin,” said IMA President Joseph Varon, a physician based in Houston. “That’s what happened in Texas, and that’s what happened in Tennessee.”

‘An Unproven, Potentially Unsafe Drug’

Once signed by Tennessee Gov. Bill Lee, the state’s ivermectin law took effect immediately — even before the state’s physician and pharmacy licensing boards created rules to guide the process, which Tennessee law also requires. 

Some board members were shocked.

“We’re talking about an unproven, potentially unsafe drug,” Shant Garabedian, a doctor on the state’s Board of Osteopathic Examination, said of off-label ivermectin use during a . “It’s already law. Somehow it passes without our sort of input.”

In meetings that followed, at least five members of Tennessee’s medical boards voiced concerns about the law beyond safety and efficacy. Some said pharmacists could overcharge for a drug that normally costs pennies per pill. Some worried that a loosely regulated, cash-based ivermectin market might attract shady characters, especially because the law also shields prescribers from ivermectin-related civil lawsuits.

“This involves no clinical engagement,” Melanie Blake, then-president of the Board of Medical Examiners, said during a . “If they’re exempt from liability as well, I hate to think of things that individuals could do just to make money, but this would be one.” 

The boards eventually enacted regulations affirming that ivermectin could be dispensed without any diagnosis. Board members said the law left them no choice.

“This is more of a situation where, legally, the legislature has decided for us,” John McGraw, another board member, said in a . “This has sort of tied our hands in a lot of ways.”

The first known sale under the new law occurred in Sibley’s home of Johnson City, a city of about 74,000 people in northeastern Tennessee. According to a , Sibley entered into a collaborative agreement with pharmacist Josh Harrison at The Compounding Lab, which dispenses drugs for people and animals. 

The first customer was Bernadette Pajer, an anti-vaccine activist who has worked with Children’s Health Defense. In a of the Nashville podcast Rebunked With Scott Armstrong, Pajer said Sibley was a medical adviser for the group and described the first ivermectin sale.

“On that day, she was the doctor, he was the pharmacist making the sale, and I was the first customer,” Pajer said. “So that was pretty cool.”

Ivermectin pharmacies have spread across the state. In the suburbs of Nashville, Roman Pharmacy advertises ivermectin on at least four billboards along Interstate 65, and is mostly focused on the drug. Outside Knoxville, allows customers to order ivermectin for multiple sclerosis and Parkinson’s disease, or “to use it to detoxify.”

Roman Pharmacy did not respond to interview requests. Fresh Pharmacy declined an interview.

In Chattanooga, the Medicine Counter pharmacy says on its website that ivermectin should be taken “only as prescribed by your healthcare provider.” And yet the pharmacy sells some of Tennessee’s available without a prescription from a doctor — up to 21 times as strong as a standard tablet, for nearly $19 per pill — according to the ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News analysis.

Himanshu Patel, Medicine Counter’s head pharmacist, declined to be interviewed. He said in an email that the pharmacy operates in a “very competitive market” and that its strongest pills were below the maximum dose for humans evaluated by the FDA for safety purposes.

And then there is Compound Rx, which, in addition to selling ivermectin in its store, has built a website in preparation to ship nationwide. The site, which is in “test mode,” cannot currently make any sales. It also asks customers how they heard about the pharmacy, with a dropdown menu of answers that features right-wing figures such as Donald Trump Jr., Steve Bannon, Laura Ingraham, and Kevin Sorbo.

Who is not listed as an option? Your doctor.

Hughey, the Compound Rx pharmacist, said he wasn’t involved with the website, which he said may never launch.

The highly concentrated pills are a concern for Tennessee state Sen. Richard Briggs, who worries lawmakers have created a “dangerous” ivermectin market rife with “misleading advertising” about what the drug can actually do.

Briggs, who is a surgeon and the only Republican who voted against the ivermectin bill in 2022, said he planned to introduce legislation to rein in the sale of ivermectin when lawmakers reconvene in 2027.

“But it may be a hard sell, because with the anti-vaxxers and some of these other folks,” Briggs said. “We don’t base a lot of things that we do on science, data, or facts. To a lot of folks in the legislature, the facts are just an inconvenience.”

‘Enough Trouble With Ivermectin’

Lawmakers in at least seven states have considered ivermectin legislation this year, including Alabama, Florida, Oklahoma, and South Carolina. If enacted, these bills would allow people to obtain ivermectin without an individual prescription, like in Tennessee, or make it available over the counter.

Kennedy praised such legislation at an event in Texas last August.

“I think it’s a really good bill,” he said of Texas’ ivermectin legislation, according to . “I think Americans should have the choice.”

But proponents have hit roadblocks. A Utah bill failed to advance out of the state House this year. In Oklahoma, some lawmakers have put up a fight.

“I’m a scientific person. I need to see some research and some data that shows what we’re treating,” Oklahoma state Rep. Cynthia Roe, a Republican and nurse practitioner who opposes the state’s ivermectin bill, said in an interview. “And God forbid somebody start giving it to their kid.”

Back in Tennessee, one of the medical boards that was alarmed when the law was enacted in 2022 started to distance itself from ivermectin altogether.

In January, the Board of Medical Examiners grappled with how to punish Ricky Lee Jackson, a doctor who was licensed in Tennessee and had been sanctioned and fined by Washington state’s medical commission. The Tennessee board normally mirrors punishments from other states without hesitation. But the Washington case centered on Jackson prescribing ivermectin for covid, which in Tennessee no longer required a patient to see a doctor.

After a debate, the board voted to reprimand Jackson — but told its staff to ensure the public record made .

“This board has been in enough trouble with ivermectin,” member Keith Anderson said, according to a . “Maybe we ought to just leave that out.”

journalist Blake Farmer and reporter Adam Friedman contributed to this report.

This article first appeared on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and is republished here under a .

Hundreds of detainees across at least 33 states allege in federal suits that immigration detention facilities are failing to provide adequate medical care, an investigation by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and The Associated Press found. Detainees say they didn’t get medications on time — or at all — for conditions including high blood pressure, diabetes, depression, epilepsy, Parkinson’s, and HIV. Requests for help went unanswered for weeks. Blood sugars rose. Infections festered. Cancers remained untreated. Detainees collapsed and had seizures.

U.S. jails and immigration detention centers have to meet the medical needs of the people in their charge. But the system is sagging under an influx of detentions since President Donald Trump returned to office: More than 75,000 immigrants were being detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement , up from around 40,000 a year earlier.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and AP analyzed thousands of court cases filed since Trump’s second inauguration that use a legal route known as habeas corpus to argue people are being held illegally by ICE. The records offer a rare window into how those detained say, often under penalty of perjury, ICE is handling their medical needs. Reporters also interviewed more than 50 detainees, family members, and lawyers.

The investigation revealed that medical neglect is alleged across the sprawling detention system, including in offices not designed to house people, county jails, and quickly staged sites with nicknames such as “Alligator Alcatraz.”

ICE custody is deadlier than it has been in two decades, researchers wrote in April. The Department of Homeland Security reported 51 people had died in detention since the start of Trump’s second administration — with suicides .

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and AP asked DHS to respond to the findings six days before publication, but it did not provide comment. The department’s acting chief medical officer, Sean Conley, has “it is both policy and longstanding practice for aliens to receive timely and appropriate medical care from the moment they enter ICE custody” and that the agency recruits healthcare professionals to maintain high standards. “This is better, more responsive healthcare than many aliens have ever received in their entire lives,” he has said.

Individual facilities and private prison companies contracting with DHS that responded to requests for comment said they follow ICE standards and detainees receive medical care when it is required. Some said they were unfamiliar with the allegations outlined in court documents; others blamed some detainees for lapses in their medical care.

“I have never seen such disregard or medical neglect like this anywhere,” Vardan Gukasian, a political dissident and former paramedic who spent years behind bars in Armenia, wrote in in March to contest his detention in Henderson, Nevada, as it stretched to 13 months despite health problems.

Madeleine Skains, a spokesperson for the city of Henderson, said medical care is always available at the facility and that the court had not ordered changes to his care.

Last June, as Gukasian experienced the symptoms of uncontrolled high blood pressure — dizziness, a nosebleed, and a headache — his cellmate banged on their door for help.

“When it did not arrive, the rest of the block banged on their doors,” he wrote. Gukasian was hospitalized that day.

‘Brazen Indifference to Really Obvious Problems’

The administration’s mass deportation effort has swept up during routine immigration check-ins, at traffic stops, at their homes, and in hospitals.

About have no criminal conviction. Their immigration proceedings are civil, not criminal.

“I couldn’t understand why they treated me so harshly,” said a father of six in Georgia. He said he was injured while shackled in custody when the vehicle transporting him to an Atlanta facility jolted, throwing him out of his seat and into a metal armrest. His wound became infected with E. coli, he said, because he had to sleep on a dirty concrete floor amid leaking toilets.

Like other detainees interviewed, he spoke on the condition of anonymity; they said they fear for their safety, for the safety of their families, or that speaking out would jeopardize their immigration cases. The AP and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News are not naming anyone identified in court documents without their consent.

Staffers at Stewart Detention Center in rural Lumpkin, Georgia, didn’t adequately respond to that man’s request for medical help, , until he passed out and was taken to a hospital about an hour away. There, he said, a doctor told him he’d narrowly escaped amputation of his left leg. Medical staff found no records of a case matching this description, according to Brian Todd, a spokesperson for CoreCivic, which runs the facility.

The 48-year-old, who moved to the U.S. from Guatemala more than two decades ago, was released in October and is now a legal permanent resident. But he is unsure if he’ll be able to return to his job in construction because, he said, he can no longer lift heavy things due to his injury.

Some detainees or their lawyers said even basic care was denied: gauze to protect an open foot wound, prenatal care for a high-risk pregnancy, a pillow to ease the pain of sleeping with advanced stomach cancer, sanitary pads for postpartum bleeding.

“I would like to believe the government has the best interest of those it holds in detention for whatever period of time,” Judge Benita Pearson, a federal judge in Ohio, said during a hearing in October concerning a 70-year-old who alleged the government lost her glasses during her arrest. “If one is unable to see due to the loss of glasses when detained, that should be fixed.”

, who worked for ICE and now serves as a special adviser to the American Bar Association, said case law requires the government to treat people in immigration detention with the same care it affords those in traditional jails awaiting trial. But administrators are granted discretion and medical care standards vary.

Detainees are frequently moved across the country, often without warning, interrupting treatment. A woman from El Salvador said she missed a week of HIV medication when she was transferred from Colorado to a county jail in Wyoming.

A Russian man wrote that, while detained in Texas, he saw a gastroenterologist about his painful gallstones and scheduled an appointment with a surgeon. “Unfortunately, I never got to see him, due to my being moved around various detention centers.”

Advocates say that even obvious disabilities, like legal blindness, are ignored.

A detainee who lost one eye and had severe glaucoma in the other required twice-daily drops to maintain what vision remained. But, he said, some days the drops never came.

“Now I can only see a little bit straight in front. It now often looks like I’m seeing through gauze,” the man wrote in a court declaration. “This makes me very afraid that one of these times I am going to open my eyes and not be able to see anything at all.”

He wrote that he was scared he wouldn’t be able to see his infant son grow up.

“It’s just sort of brazen indifference to really obvious problems, things you would have thought absurd a decade ago — like the fact that you can’t see,” the man’s attorney, Brian Hoffman, said. “Before, you could attempt to work with folks on the government side and maybe shame them into doing the right thing. Now, it’s sort of like anything you want done you have to go to court and sue over.”

Even court orders aren’t always enough. One California judge ordered the government to take a man showing signs of prostate cancer to a specialist for diagnosis and treatment. Records show they did not take him.

Lawyers representing ICE told the judge that officials missed the appointment because of an “internal scheduling error.” CoreCivic, which runs that facility, said it was unable to comment on active litigation.

A Surge in Cases

When immigrants file habeas corpus petitions, they exercise a right to challenge unlawful imprisonment that dates to .

More than 40,000 such petitions have been filed during Trump’s second term, fueled by decisions last year to deny bond to many people held on immigration charges. Judges are split on whether that’s legal; the question appears headed to the Supreme Court.

Many habeas claims , but judges typically cite reasons unrelated to the medical neglect described in the petitions, such as detainees’ being held too long before being deported.

The more than 300 medical neglect claims found in this investigation represent a fraction of the problem. The details of habeas corpus cases are often hidden due to a federal rule barring the public from viewing such documents online. ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and AP obtained some documents from courthouses and received records on 4,400 cases from , a project of the nonprofit Immigration Justice Transparency Initiative. But tens of thousands more remain largely inaccessible.

Some judges have written that the habeas process is not how to raise allegations of medical neglect and have declined to release detainees over those claims. Not every detainee who believes they experienced medical neglect files a habeas petition or cites their medical issues if they do.

Jose-Antonio Segismundo’s petition made no mention of being unable to see an oncologist for the cancer in his abdomen while detained for more than seven months at the Florida detention facility known as Alligator Alcatraz and Folkston D Ray ICE Processing Center in Georgia. Medical records in his court filings show he was arrested about five weeks before his scheduled appointment with a cancer specialist.

His wife, Maria Jose Gonzalez, said he didn’t receive any treatment even though she sent his medical records and explained his condition to officials at Folkston. When his stomach pain erupted, often suddenly and intensely, she said, they gave him Tylenol.

Geo Group, which runs Folkston, follows ICE standards and provides healthcare and access to off-site medical specialists when needed, spokesperson Christopher Ferreira said.

This spring, Segismundo, 48, was deported to Mexico, a country he left nearly 30 years ago, Gonzalez said. Now, she said, he will have to restart his search for care in the Oaxacan village where he grew up.

Watching Loved Ones Deteriorate

Detainees receiving inadequate healthcare have little recourse. The Department of Homeland Security last year gutted the Office of the Immigration Detention Ombudsman. In early May, it shut the office entirely, arguing that Congress didn’t fund it.

Previously, ombudsman staffers could help facilitate medical care or look into complaints of neglect, according to Matt Boles, an immigration attorney in Georgia. Now, he said, there’s no one to call.

Meanwhile, detainees’ families said they feel helpless, making desperate calls to facilities, the government, and their legislators while watching their loved ones deteriorate.

Riya Khan saw her mother get sicker at the California City Detention Facility, which is owned by CoreCivic. When she visited a week after her mother arrived at the facility in the Mojave Desert, Riya said, the 64-year-old woman stumbled into her seat. She was shaking and her breathing was labored.

Masuma Khan came to the U.S. from Bangladesh in 1997. She has no criminal history, her records say, and was detained in October when she showed up for her regular ICE check-in.

For the month she was detained, according to her daughter, she only intermittently received her medications for conditions including high blood pressure, hypothyroidism, and prediabetes. CoreCivic treats chronic conditions in line with applicable medical standards, Todd said.

“Nothing matters more to CoreCivic than the health, safety and well-being of the people in our care,” Todd said.

Khan said she got her asthma medication for the first time two days before she was released and that her eye drops for glaucoma never arrived. Staffers told Khan she needed to buy some of her medications from the commissary but it didn’t stock them, her daughter said.

Before ICE detained Masuma Khan, she made friends with everyone, her daughter said. She had worked for years at Lucky Boy, an iconic Pasadena fast-food restaurant, and in her free time fed birds and left out fruit for bees that visited her apartment’s balcony.

Now she’s too scared to go outside. She still must regularly check in with ICE, and she’s terrified each time.

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A Stroke on a Video Call

Previously, detainees with serious medical needs would likely have been released on humanitarian parole, in part to avoid the cost of their care, Vermont attorney Andrew Pelcher said.

In fiscal year 2023 — before the detained population soared — ICE spent more than $390 million on healthcare for detained noncitizens, according to its to Congress. In May, Todd Lyons, then acting director of ICE, said at a conference that the agency had already spent “almost half a billion dollars” on detainee healthcare this year.

Now, under “mandatory detention,” people are staying locked up with serious — and expensive — conditions.

A Romanian citizen underwent several heart surgeries, including an emergency triple bypass in April 2025, before he was arrested in July. As part of his recovery, the 52-year-old was required to take 16 daily medications. While at an ICE field office in Baltimore, his court filings allege, he went two days without any medication before officials moved him to a facility in New Jersey.

He was hospitalized three times while detained, complaining of chest pains — in part, medical records and court documents say, because despite “countless requests,” the detention center did not provide all his medications. Hospital discharge papers cited by his lawyer show he received only eight of the 16 medications after his second release from the hospital.

“Can you please talk to the ICE facility to make sure they give him his medications?” his treatment providers wrote in medical records included in his court filings. “He was admitted last week for chest pain and today he was readmitted again for chest pain secondary to non compliance for medications.”

Several weeks later in August, he had a stroke while on a video call with his daughter, according to court filings. “He was struggling to breathe, and was pointing at his chest where he was again experiencing pain, and suddenly stopped speaking.” His daughter screamed for help through the video monitor, according to his petition. “Eventually an officer came in to assist him and cut the feed.”

The man lost his ability to speak for four days, the document says. He was returned to detention, where he remained until a federal judge ordered his release in November.

Impossible Choices

Cassandra Amador waits for the phone to ring every morning, desperate to ask her husband the question that’s woken her up every night for months: “Did you get your medicine?”

Her husband, Pedro Javier Amador Gutierrez, 36, has high blood pressure and depends on the state-run facility in Florida nicknamed “Deportation Depot” to administer the prescriptions that have kept him alive for years. Many mornings, he tells his wife he did not get them.

When she talks to him, she said, he sounds weaker and more scared every day, not like the upbeat man who would take her kids out for ice cream.

“You can hear in his voice how he feels,” she said.

Now, she said, he’s considering returning to Cuba, which he fled because of political persecution, out of fear that he will die in detention without his medicines. Amador and her children would go with him, she said, even though she was born in New Jersey, has never been to Cuba, and doesn’t speak much Spanish.

But he’s already collapsed twice at the Baker Correctional Institution in Sanderson, Florida, his wife said. She’s terrified that the next time, he won’t get up.

Methodology

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and The Associated Press sifted through thousands of immigration habeas corpus claims to find allegations of medical neglect from people detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement during the second Trump administration.

Without a comprehensive, publicly available dataset of medical complaints by those in ICE custody, we used immigration habeas corpus claims to identify detainees’ healthcare-related allegations raised in federal court. Although the intended purpose of habeas corpus is to challenge the legality of a petitioner’s detention — rather than conditions of their confinement — these filings sometimes include detainees’ claims of inadequate healthcare.

But habeas corpus filings are not always publicly available. Federal rules restrict how members of the public can access habeas petitions filed by people in immigration detention. For most of these cases, court websites publish only court orders and dockets describing other filings. The initial petitions are available only through in-person visits to federal courthouses across the country. Habeas Dockets, a project of the nonprofit Immigration Justice Transparency Initiative, coordinates a nationwide network of volunteers to gather these petitions and make them available online.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and AP analyzed the dockets of roughly 33,000 cases filed by detainees from Jan. 20, 2025, through March 2026. The vast majority of cases had only basic procedural information, like dates of court filings and rulings. Only about 4,400 included the original petitions.

We also gathered a few dozen case files from courthouses, lawyers, and the Massachusetts federal district court website, which posts most petitions under a unique standing order.

We ran keyword and semantic searches of court records, including petitions, motions, and orders, for terms and phrases potentially related to medical neglect, such as surgery, medications, inadequate medical care, and treatment for chronic conditions such as diabetes and high blood pressure.

We found about 500 cases potentially alleging medical neglect. At least two reporters reviewed each case manually, yielding more than 300 cases containing specific allegations in sworn filings of delayed, denied, or deficient healthcare.

To be conservative, we excluded dozens of cases that alleged inadequate medical care but lacked specifics, for example a petitioner writing, “I have been sick and don’t get proper treatment,” or a judge noting a petitioner “complains that ICE is ignoring his medical problems.” We also excluded cases in which petitioners claimed only that they were denied special diets, exercise, or other accommodations that they said were key to managing their health conditions, such as a petitioner writing, “I suffer from Parkinson’s and cannot properly exercise,” or claiming that the food provided was unfit for a person with diabetes.

The cases we analyzed were neither randomly selected nor representative of immigration habeas filings nationwide. The claims were not independently verified. Many filings are not publicly available, and not all detainees raise medical concerns in court, so our account of cases represents a limited window into the landscape of claims, rather than a comprehensive picture.

Associated Press journalists Garance Burke, Valerie Gonzalez, and Tim Sullivan as well as ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News correspondent Kate Wells contributed to this report.

This report is a collaboration between The Associated Press and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

This article first appeared on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and is republished here under a .

The 59-year-old retired teacher, who recently moved from Ohio to Michigan, now pays $341 a month for a pair of plans, one that covers routine and urgent care and another that pays fixed amounts for hospital stays. Neither meets federal standards for comprehensive coverage.

Though she practices yoga and is healthy, Miller said she still feels “vulnerable.” If she lands in the hospital, her plan pays a flat $2,000, a fraction of the of an average hospital stay.

“I don’t gamble. But I may as well,” she said. “This is gambling.”

Congress’ decision late last year not to extend enhanced marketplace tax credits has boosted the appeal of alternatives to comprehensive insurance — plans like Miller’s, which have lower premiums but don’t meet ACA standards for coverage or consumer protections. Unlike plans sold on the exchanges, these options — some sold by major insurers, others by small companies or nonprofits — can deny claims with few or no legal rights for consumers to appeal. The plans are not required to cover “essential health benefits,” such as preventive care, and can impose annual or lifetime caps on benefits.

There is debate over whether these options help or harm patients. Consumer advocates dismiss them as “junk insurance,” while proponents say restricting alternatives to pricey marketplace plans risks driving up the number of uninsured. Some states, including Kansas and Florida, and the federal government itself have eased regulations on such plans or created incentives to join them, while other states, including California and Massachusetts, have tried to deter enrollment in alternative insurance. Those regulatory guardrails, however, are now being stress-tested as premiums blow out household budgets.

Alternative insurance takes many forms, including short-term policies, which were designed to bridge temporary gaps in coverage and often exclude preexisting conditions, and fixed-indemnity plans, which pay a flat rate per service regardless of how high costs go and are intended for supplemental use. Arrangements in which people pool their money to cover one another’s bills, including faith-based “healthcare sharing ministries,” also provide a cheaper alternative to the marketplace options. Because they are not considered insurance under federal or state law, they are not legally bound to pay for even .

Enrollment data for alternative plans is mostly confidential, but several indicators point to shifts in the market. Recent estimates suggest marketplace enrollment from 2025, and a of people on the exchanges last year found that 5% switched to private, nonmarketplace individual coverage, including plans that don’t comply with the ACA. Covered California, the state’s marketplace, plans to survey former enrollees to find out where they went.

Insurance industry insiders also report that, amid the expiration of subsidies, alternative plans are making a marketing push. Colorado insurance broker Samantha Albritton said that before ACA open enrollment, she saw more marketing from fixed-indemnity plans than in previous years. One healthcare sharing plan, Zion HealthShare, had more than 75,000 members in February — a 50% increase since last June, it said in a statement.

Critics of these alternative plans say the major issues occur when people use them as primary insurance and don’t realize the coverage is inadequate until they need it most. “Humans have bodies that can fail them,” said Amy Killelea, an assistant research professor at Georgetown University’s Center on Health Insurance Reforms.

This article first appeared on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News and is republished here under a .