Meanwhile, patients, their advocates, and clinicians say little has improved.

“It has never been this bad for patients,” said U.S. Rep. Greg Murphy (R-N.C.), a physician who co-chairs the GOP Doctors Caucus.

The overarching intent of the June 2025 pledge was to improve a controversial process called prior authorization, which regularly requires patients or someone on their medical team to seek approval from insurers before proceeding with treatment.

According to AHIP, the health insurance industry trade group, health plans have eliminated 6.5 million prior authorizations for patients — equal to an 11% reduction — since the announcement.

But critics remain skeptical. Sally Nix, a patient advocate who has a chronic disease, described the voluntary pledge as “performative.” And Murphy, who participated in the news conference with Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. announcing the pledge last year, said it has “no teeth.”

Voluntary insurer pledges rarely make things better for patients, said , a research professor at the Center on Health Insurance Reforms at Georgetown University.

“In the absence of clear rules, policies, standards, and mandates,” she said, insurance companies are “going to do what makes sense for them to do financially.”

The Department of Health and Human Services did not respond to questions for this report. It isn’t clear how, or whether, the Trump administration is holding insurers accountable.

‘Zero Faith’

Prior authorization — sometimes called preauthorization or precertification — has been around for decades. The insurance industry has long argued that the practice, which varies by company, helps control costs, reduces waste and fraud, and prevents potential harm to patients. It’s regularly invoked for a huge swath of services, ranging from low-cost urgent care to expensive cancer treatment.

“Prior authorization is a vital patient safeguard,” said Chris Bond, a spokesperson for AHIP.

The 2024 killing of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson sparked a national groundswell of anger about insurance denials, with patients and doctors becoming increasingly vocal about the tactics they say insurance companies use to boost profits at the expense of care.

Prior authorization reform is one of the rare healthcare issues Democrats and Republicans tend to agree on. On July 15, the House Ways and Means Committee unanimously that would force Medicare Advantage plans to provide to the federal government a list of all items and services that are subject to prior authorization, and to report data about denials and grievances, among other requirements.

Last year’s industry pledge was organized as a direct response to public anger, Mehmet Oz, administrator of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, said when it was announced. “There’s violence in the streets over these issues,” he said.

“Americans are upset about it,” Oz said, later adding, “I’m looking forward to seeing the results.”

Mike Gartner, founder of Health Access Innovation, an organization that helps patients overturn insurance denials, said he doubts that insurance companies are changing their policies in meaningful ways. The 11% reduction in prior authorization cited by AHIP “hides a lot of nuance,” Gartner said.

Patients who need the costliest services, such as cancer treatment, are still being disproportionately denied access to doctor-recommended care, he said.

AHIP said its data included reductions in prior authorization for medical services, not prescription medicines. The trade group didn’t provide details explaining which services have been dropped from prior authorization or how those reductions differ across individual insurers.

Last year, Oz said the federal government would be “evaluating progress” toward the pledge and “driving accountability,” and he foreshadowed “public dashboards.” But no such dashboards exist, and federal officials did not respond to questions about how they’re holding companies accountable.

Murphy, the North Carolina congressman, said he has “zero faith” in the industry policing itself.

He didn’t believe insurance companies then, he said, “and I don’t believe them now.”

‘At War’ With an Insurer

In February, days after Betsy Adler and Justin Young’s daughter Coco was born with a serious heart defect, the Stillwater, Minnesota, family received paperwork showing they were racking up out-of-network costs.

During Adler’s pregnancy, the family had switched insurers, , which is based in Minnetonka, Minnesota, and one of that initially signed the industry pledge. Adler said she’d checked with her employer’s human resources department and on Medica’s website to make sure her maternal-fetal specialists and hospital were in-network before their new health plan went into effect earlier this year.

But then, the insurance company started processing some claims as out-of-network. By mid-March, the family had accrued more than $4,000 in out-of-network charges, on top of more than $3,000 for in-network bills. And the bills kept coming.

When Adler, a psychotherapist, called to figure out what was going on, she said, an insurance company representative said she hadn’t submitted a referral from her primary care provider beforehand. Attempts to fix the problem went nowhere. At one point, Adler said, Medica required her to visit a clinic she’d never been to before to obtain a referral. But she said a Medica representative told her the referral was never received, because the insurer’s fax machine was down.

“I have a critically ill child,” Adler remembered thinking shortly after Coco was discharged from the cardiovascular intensive care unit. “I can either spend my emotional energy at war with Medica, or I can let it go and just enjoy my time with my daughter.”

Medica spokesperson Greg Bury said he wouldn’t discuss the case, citing patient privacy rules. In an emailed statement, he wrote the company is “committed to working with her to ensure she understands what is covered under her benefits and our responsibilities.”

One of six specific promises all insurers made when they signed the pledge was to honor a 90-day grace period when patients switch insurance plans, starting Jan. 1 of this year. Often called “continuity of care,” this grace period allows patients to temporarily continue receiving services and medications that were authorized under a previous insurer.

But that applies only in some circumstances, Georgetown’s Corlette said. The wording of the pledge suggests that insurance companies aren’t obligated to honor another company’s network parameters. When Adler and Young switched insurers, for example, Medica was not obligated to cover the cost of out-of-network providers as if they were in-network, even though they were in-network under the family’s old plan.

Adler and Young switched insurance companies again when Coco was a month old, to avoid accruing more out-of-network costs.

Denial After Approval

The percentages cited by AHIP don’t tell the whole story, said Nix, the patient advocate. Insurers are “not including the data for the loopholes they create,” she said.

For example, nothing in the pledge prevents insurance companies from retroactively denying payment, even when care is preapproved. “Patients are going to see a lot more retroactive denials,” said Nix, who recently had her insurer process, then later deny, a claim for injections to relieve her nerve pain.

Something similar recently happened to Jocelyn Austin, 49, of Amherst, New York. Over the course of nearly 20 years, she developed an addiction to sleeping and anxiety pills prescribed to her by a doctor. Last year, she spent weeks at an inpatient treatment center for substance abuse. Her insurer, Independent Health, had approved the admission. Austin said she has been substance-free since her discharge.

But the facility sent her a bill for more than $12,000 in December showing her insurer had not paid for the treatment she received, according to documents Austin shared with ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News. This was in addition to the $10,000 she paid at the beginning of her treatment to satisfy her out-of-network deductible. The approval letters from Independent Health had specified that “authorization is not a guarantee of claim payment.”

Frank Sava, a spokesperson for Independent Health, said a denial was issued and upheld in this case because the services provided “were inconsistent with the care that was authorized” and “the medical record did not sufficiently support what was billed.” He said those findings were reviewed and confirmed by an outside consultant.

An explanation of benefits issued by the insurer last summer indicated the “provider,” not the patient, was responsible for the cost of her treatment. And yet the treatment facility has continued to pressure her for payment, she said.

Austin, who has not paid her outstanding bill, said insurance companies “should be held accountable.”

‘Significant Work Ahead’

Another one of the six commitments insurers made last year was to adopt new technology that would standardize the electronic submission of prior authorization requests. During the news conference announcing the pledge last summer, Chris Klomp, the director of Medicare and a deputy CMS administrator, said more than 50% of prior authorizations are still paper-based and processed by phone or fax machine.

In April, AHIP related to that technology initiative, explaining that participating insurers would adopt the new standards on a rolling basis. Health insurers agreed to implement the pledge’s various commitments by predetermined deadlines, and this initiative is scheduled to be operational by Jan. 1, 2027. But eight insurers that initially signed the pledge last year didn’t sign the technology update when it was announced in April, AHIP told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

Those insurers are Alignment Health Plan, EmblemHealth, HealthFirst, Independent Health, Medica, MVP Health Care, Point32Health, and SummaCare. Their beneficiaries span the country, from California to New York. None of those eight insurers agreed to interviews for this report, but most sent ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News emailed statements indicating that they remain committed to prior authorization reform.

AHIP’s approach to continuity of care “would have required the transfer of confidential member health information through a non-standardized process involving third-party participation,” wrote Jerry Slowey, a spokesperson for , which offers Medicare Advantage policies in Arizona, California, Nevada, North Carolina, and Texas. “We do not believe that level of data sharing was contemplated in the original commitment.”

Bury, the spokesperson for Medica, which covers beneficiaries in Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Dakota, and Wisconsin, said the company “supports the goal of these standardization efforts.” But the April update “raised a significant technical and operational hurdle that we are not able to commit to at this time,” he said.

Alex Gomez, a spokesperson for EmblemHealth, said in late June the company “will sign onto the commitment” after ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News posed questions about why it had not endorsed the April update.

“We anticipate more plans will be added over the coming months,” said Bond, the AHIP spokesperson. Health plans are “working continuously to implement their commitments to simplify and improve the experience.” He acknowledged that “there is still significant work ahead.”

The original pledge also included a promise that insurance companies would enhance transparency and use “clear, easy-to-understand explanations” when communicating to patients — something they were already supposed to be doing under the Affordable Care Act.

Yet companies still regularly neglect to explain why care has been denied, and their communications often contain “inconsistent and contradictory information,” said Gartner, of Health Access Innovation. He and Murphy also said they suspect insurance companies are increasingly using artificial intelligence to generate denials.

“They craft the pathways to basically deny things immediately with the hope that people will give up,” Murphy said.

The congressman said he wishes President Donald Trump would sign executive orders addressing some of these issues. “The problem is the insurance industry is the strongest lobby in this town.”

Do you have an experience with prior authorization you’d like to share?  to tell ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News your story.

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When Gov. Gavin Newsom, using his , refused to extradite a physician accused of prescribing and mailing abortion pills to a Louisiana woman, he said California would “not ever” allow “extremist politicians” to punish its doctors.

Newsom, who is considering a run for president, has long championed reproductive rights, but state lawmakers in the Democratically controlled California legislature know future governors might not have the same political beliefs.

Republican gubernatorial candidate Steve Hilton, a former Fox News host endorsed by President Donald Trump, has vowed to honor these types of extradition requests from other states if he’s elected, Louisiana “is trying to uphold what its people voted for, and California is undermining it.” His opponent, Democrat Xavier Becerra, has said he would deny the requests.

Legislation advancing in Sacramento is the latest chapter in a tit for tat that’s been happening between conservative and liberal states since 2022, when the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, ending federal legal protections for abortion.

by state Assembly member Rebecca Bauer-Kahan, which is being heard in committee, would take some decisions out of the governor’s hands, requiring governors to deny extradition requests for healthcare providers who prescribe abortion medication or administer gender-affirming care. It would also shield anyone in California who helped patients travel to California or another state to receive legal care. While opponents cast “shield laws” as an incursion on other states’ authority, supporters of the bill view it as insurance — even with Becerra leading Hilton 52% to 31%, according to by the University of California-Berkeley Institute of Government Studies.

Newsom spokesperson Marissa Saldivar said the governor doesn’t comment on pending legislation. Hilton and Becerra didn’t return calls for comment.

“Protecting providers from prosecution should not rely on shifting political winds or a single person’s decision,” said Alyssa Sherer, a nurse practitioner who spoke in support of the bill at a Senate committee hearing in June. Sherer is also the medical director at Hey Jane, a telehealth medication abortion provider. 

Thirteen states have banned abortion outright, and 28 other states ban abortion somewhere between six weeks and viability. At the same time, other states that allow abortion have enacted shield laws to protect doctors and nurses from liability when they prescribe across state lines.

People living in states with total abortion bans are increasingly getting abortion pills prescribed via telehealth, from 74,000 abortions in 2024 to 92,000 abortions in 2025, according to the Guttmacher Institute, citing numbers from its Monthly Abortion Provision Study.

Critics of shield laws say that states have a legitimate interest in enforcing their own statutes and that such laws represent an attempt by some states, like California, to nullify the legal decisions of others.

“If California says, ‘We’re not going to honor any other state’s laws. We’re going to ship abortion pills into your states. You can’t have a law that says abortion is illegal,’ I don’t know — that doesn’t seem like a workable situation,” said Greg Burt, who is vice president of the California Family Council and has spoken in opposition to shield laws at the State Capitol.

Twenty-one other states and Washington, D.C., have similar shield laws, but Arizona, California, Michigan, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania’s rely on an executive order, which could be reversed by a successor, according to the Guttmacher Institute.

Amanda Barrow, a senior staff attorney at the Center on Reproductive Health, Law, and Policy at UCLA Law, said passing extradition protections would put California on firmer footing, because an executive order “could be revoked by a governor who is anti-abortion or anti-gender-affirming-care.”

Hilton has said he would do just that if elected.

“Just as I wouldn’t want to see Louisiana coming in and undermining something that we voted for here in California,” the GOP candidate told KQED in January. 

During a , Becerra said he was strident about protecting reproductive rights as the state’s attorney general. “Absolutely no,” Becerra said of allowing California physicians to be extradited. 

This year, Hawai‘i to its existing shield laws. And Oregon , including banning law enforcement from cooperating with out-of-state or federal investigations into care that’s legal in the state.

But Republican legislators in conservative states have cast telehealth visits as an end run around their laws. And some have moved to restrict abortion pill access.

The governors of , , and have signed bills this year that criminalize the sale, purchase, or distribution of medication that induces an abortion. Those states make it a felony to provide medication abortion drugs to people who are seeking to end a pregnancy. The laws impose up to 10 years in prison with potentially tens of thousands of dollars in fines.

Mississippi amended the state’s controlled substances code to add abortion pills as a criminal category. Although the state already prohibits abortion broadly, the measure specifically addresses distribution, which could subject out-of-state providers to prosecution.

In January, Louisiana a California doctor, Remy Coeytaux, mailing abortion pills to a patient. Newsom denied the request. Likewise, New York Gov. Kathy Hochul denied Louisiana’s February 2025 extradition request for a .

Texas has taken a slightly different legal tact. Attorney General Ken Paxton, a Republican running for the U.S. Senate, obtained a default judgment of more than $100,000 against the New York doctor targeted by Louisiana, but a , citing New York’s shield law. Neither Paxton nor Louisiana Attorney General Liz Murrill responded to requests for comment. 

Fear of being charged with a crime for providing quality medical care is contributing to physicians leaving medicine, said Sacramento emergency room doctor Kamara Graham, who is vice president of the California chapter of the American College of Emergency Physicians, which is supporting the bill.

“It’s really conflicting and hard for us to weigh that concern of: Will I get extradited and charged and potentially be taken away from my family? Or do I do the right thing for my patient?” Graham said.

The availability of medication used in most abortions could soon change nationwide. Under the leadership of Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the Food and Drug Administration it is conducting a safety review of mifepristone, one of two medications in pill form that is used in most U.S. abortions. The FDA maintains the drug is safe and effective.

If the FDA were to decide that mifepristone is not safe, such a ruling would supersede state laws, even in states where abortion is legal. If mifepristone is restricted, many telehealth groups have said they would switch to using only the other medication, misoprostol.

“The elephant in the room is whether the Trump administration, particularly after the midterms, makes some kind of move to put national limits on access to abortions,” said Mary Ziegler, a law professor at UC-Davis who has written several books on reproductive health law.

“Not everything is something that the legislature can solve for,” Ziegler said, “because there’s some uncertainty about how the federal courts are going to react to all of this.”

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

Recently divorced, the former stay-at-home mother had started working again in her mid-40s, taking a human resources job that paid $41,000 a year. Then, despite having insurance, she was hit with more than $8,000 in medical bills.

“I had my car and a basket of clothes,” Roberts recalled. “Medical bills were not something I could have afforded.”

Roberts sought financial assistance from CentraCare, the St. Cloud-based health system that treated her. It’s a nonprofit charity that receives millions of dollars in federal, state, and local tax breaks. In exchange, it’s obliged to offer charity care to patients who can’t afford their medical bills. But Roberts said CentraCare told her she made too much to qualify.

Roberts instead scrimped on groceries and Christmas gifts for her kids and paid off more than $6,000 over two years. Then CentraCare sued her last year because she hadn’t paid off all the debt.

“They’re supposed to be a nonprofit,” Roberts said. “It’s like, ‘Come on!’”

CentraCare earmarks a tiny fraction of its budget for helping patients with medical bills they can’t pay, but it’s not alone, a Minnesota Star Tribune-ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News investigation found.

Minnesota’s hospitals and health systems are among the least charitable in the country, the investigation found, providing less financial aid as a percentage of their operating budgets on average than hospitals in almost every other state, including Illinois, Iowa, Nevada, and Texas.

The investigation drew on a detailed review of every hospital charity care program in the state, an analysis of five years of hospital financial data, and dozens of interviews with patients, hospital executives, and state officials.

Nationally, hospitals spend an average of about 2.4% of their operating budgets on charity care, according to federal hospital data compiled by Hossein Zare, a researcher at Johns Hopkins University. Minnesota hospitals spend about a third of that, on average.

Some spend considerably less. Of Minnesota’s 123 general hospitals, 62 devoted less than 0.5% of their operating budgets to charity care from 2020 through 2024, the Star Tribune-ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News investigation found.

“The system is not working,” said Erin Hartung, director of legal services at Cancer Legal Care, a Minnesota nonprofit that helps patients with medical debt and other financial challenges. “And the burden is falling hardest on the people who are least able to bear it.”

CentraCare’s flagship St. Cloud Hospital spent less than 0.25%, according to the analysis. That works out to $25 in patient aid for every $10,000 spent on hospital operations.

Charity care will become even more vital in coming years as Minnesotans lose health coverage or can’t afford rising copays and deductibles. The state’s uninsured rate rose sharply last year, since 2017, and it’s expected to increase further as budget cuts pushed by President Donald Trump force states to pare Medicaid and other safety net programs. Charity care is also critical to many people with health insurance who can’t afford their bills.

Hospital officials say it’s unfair to expect them to solve this affordability problem when many of their facilities are financially strained. “No amount of charity care from hospitals will ever fully meet the needs of uninsured or underinsured Minnesotans. The need is simply too great,” Minnesota Hospital Association spokesperson Tim Nelson said in a statement.

But state Attorney General Keith Ellison said hospitals have a duty to boost charitable help for all needy patients in exchange for the tax breaks they receive.

“There is a benefit you get from being a nonprofit hospital in the state of Minnesota,” he said. “But do the people get the benefit?”

Several small Minnesota hospitals give financial aid to fewer than two dozen patients a year. Mahnomen Health Center, which recently converted to a rural emergency center, didn’t provide any charity care in eight years, despite serving one of Minnesota’s . Other hospitals serving large low-income populations were among those providing the least charity care, the analysis found.

Several factors help explain why Minnesota hospitals provide so little financial aid. For one, job-based insurance and an expanded Medicaid program offer broad coverage. Hospitals in states with less government assistance and more uninsured people typically spend more on charity care.

But Minnesota patients also face significant barriers accessing financial aid at many hospitals, including inconsistent eligibility standards and extensive applications, the Star Tribune-ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News investigation found.

To qualify at many hospitals, patients must submit detailed personal information, including bank statements, retirement accounts, mortgage documents, and estimates of other assets such as cars, homes, or livestock.

And because Minnesota has not standardized the criteria for charity care, patients might receive aid at one hospital but not another. The investigation found that some hospitals give free care to patients with an annual household income of $47,000, while others cap it at about $15,000.

Had Roberts driven 30 miles east to Princeton or 35 miles north to Little Falls, she would have found medical providers with more generous financial aid policies than CentraCare. But she didn’t know to look.

Roberts, now 49, has remarried and lives in a split-level home in St. Cloud decorated with inspirational plaques such as “Faith, Family, Friends.” CentraCare recently dropped the lawsuit against her, but only after she took out a loan against her retirement plan to pay off the medical debt. “It just feels very unfair,” she said.

‘We Have To Defend Being Paid’

CentraCare spokesperson Karna Fronden said medical privacy laws prevented her from discussing Roberts’ case. She also declined interview requests about the health system’s charity care spending.

In a statement, Fronden said CentraCare provides assistance in addition to charity care, such as helping enroll patients in insurance. “This helps provide broader, longer-term protection for patients,” she said.

Other hospital leaders said they serve their communities in ways besides forgiving medical bills, including training doctors and nurses and preserving money-losing services such as obstetrics and mental health care.

“Rural hospitals like ours are often portrayed as though we are sitting on piles of cash and simply choosing not to spend it on charity care. That is far from the reality,” said Robert Pastor, chief executive of Rainy Lake Medical Center in International Falls.

“We are the second- or third-largest employer in town, running on razor-thin margins while navigating escalating labor and supply costs and routine underpayment by public programs,” Pastor said. “Meanwhile, many health insurers post billions in profits.”

Hospitals typically are paid less for care provided to Medicare and Medicaid patients. More than 80% of Rainy Lake’s patients are on one of those government programs.

Minnesota hospitals collectively write off about $200 million of what’s deemed bad debt every year after trying unsuccessfully to collect unpaid bills from patients through calls, letters, and even lawsuits. By comparison, they devote about $163 million annually to charity care, state figures show. In 2024, hospitals collectively posted $2.4 billion in net income.

“I feel like I’m put in the position, being the hospital, where we have to defend being paid,” said Patti Banks, the head of Ely-Bloomenson Community Hospital and a senior Minnesota Hospital Association board member.

Some hospitals face intense financial pressures. Thirty-one have lost money on operations in four of the past eight years. HCMC in Minneapolis — the state’s largest safety net hospital, which provides the most charity care — is losing so much money that, without additional taxpayer support, .

But larger health systems such as Mayo Clinic, Essentia Health, and Sanford Health have remained financially sound. And the operating margins at most CentraCare hospitals exceeded 10% in 2024, state data shows.

Medical Debt’s High Toll

Nationwide, health care debt — much of it from hospitals — burdens an estimated 100 million people, increasing their stress and even leading to premature deaths, .

Abby Kelley-Hands, a special education coordinator in St. Paul, has a rare immune condition that causes frequent, severe allergic reactions. Her illness can be controlled only with a costly drug, which a Mayo Clinic doctor prescribed.

When Kelley-Hands briefly lost health coverage in 2021 in an insurance mix-up, she was hit with more than $20,000 in bills. And although she and her husband earned less than $100,000 a year, Kelley-Hands said Mayo denied her financial assistance because she earned too much.

“I was in tears,” Kelley-Hands said. “It was so scary and so hard. And it causes all of this additional stress, which then makes you sicker and less able to even figure things out.”

Kelley-Hands and her husband sold a car and agreed to a payment plan before Mayo would resume her treatment, she said. Her husband now bikes 5 miles to work. They have no dishwasher. And she and her husband took a honeymoon only last fall, seven years after their wedding. “We live very simply,” she said.

Mayo spokesperson Kristyn Jacobson declined to discuss Kelley-Hands’ case.

In 2024, state lawmakers from denying care to patients with outstanding debt. And in 2025, Attorney General Ellison reached an agreement with Mayo to overhaul its charity care program after an investigation found the multibillion-dollar institution was systematically discouraging patients from applying.

After the state began investigating Mayo, the system’s , topping 1.5% of operating expenses in 2024.

‘Optimized To Get Payment’

Complying with a 2023 , Minnesota hospitals now post their financial aid policies online, although several, including CCM Health in Montevideo and Northfield Hospital, did so only after being contacted by the Star Tribune or ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

But many hospitals make financial aid more difficult to find than information about paying bills, said Jared Walker, founder of Dollar For, a nonprofit that helps patients nationally apply for charity care.

“Hospitals have optimized to get payment,” he said. “If you want to get on a payment plan, if you want to get on a credit card, it’s so easy.”

Glacial Ridge Health System in Glenwood posts a “Bill Pay” tab at the . But it takes several clicks to find the hospital’s financial assistance plan. The information couldn’t be found on the site searching for “charity care” or “financial assistance.” The public hospital 130 miles northwest of Minneapolis devoted less than 0.7% of its operating budget to charity care from 2019 to 2024.

Patients in interviews frequently said they weren’t told about charity care.

Joe Robling, 29, was treated at St. Francis Regional Medical Center in Shakopee for a broken pelvis and fractured spine after a 2024 motorcycle accident. His mother, Janet, who helped him navigate the bills, said the hospital never informed him about financial aid.

“They didn’t offer any of that,” she said.

Robling, a construction worker in Henderson, was between jobs and uninsured. “He had zippo,” Janet Robling said. “What he had in reserves were all depleted.”

The Allina Health-affiliated hospital billed him more than $19,000, the Roblings said.

An internet ad connected the family to Dollar For, which helped Robling qualify for charity care five months after his accident.

Allina spokesperson Jennifer Steingas declined to comment on the case, citing medical privacy restrictions, but said the health system has since reached out to the family.

In another case, M Health Fairview’s University of Minnesota Medical Center didn’t offer financial aid to an unemployed and uninsured man from Idaho while he was hospitalized for two months for psychiatric care and amassed $150,000 in bills.

Attorney Margaret Henehan, who represented the man, said the hospital instead offered him a two-year payment plan at $6,500 a month. “He had no income, which he told Fairview,” Henehan said.

The man, who is not identified because of his mental health condition, eventually received charity care after his sister, a doctor, reached out to Henehan for help.

Aimee Jordan, a Fairview spokesperson, said she couldn’t comment on the case because of patient privacy laws, but she said patients who are offered payment plans can always apply for charity care, even after a hospitalization.

A Maze of Standards

State law prohibits hospitals from making “unreasonable” demands of patients when they apply for charity care. But the law sets few specific standards.

The result is a dizzying array of policies, including 11 income thresholds used by Minnesota hospitals to determine whether patients qualify for free care, the Minnesota Star-Tribune-ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News review found.

HCMC parent company in Minneapolis and Olmsted Medical Center in Rochester offer the highest threshold for free care, at — almost $48,000 a year for an individual.

Sometimes standards vary even between neighboring hospitals. Madelia Health in south-central Minnesota to patients who make less than twice the federal poverty level. About 13 miles away at Mayo’s hospital in St. James, can qualify for aid.

To determine eligibility, some Minnesota hospitals consider only income, but most demand information about patients’ bank accounts as well. More than two-thirds require even more information, including the value of retirement accounts, life insurance policies, property, and vehicles. Madelia’s “may be required to sell recreational vehicles.”

Stringent requirements ensure that limited resources go to patients who need them, said Travis Olsen, chief executive of Hendricks Community Hospital, near the South Dakota border. “We don’t feel it’s fair for someone with lower annual income but yet owns numerous acres of land, debt-free, to be able to qualify for charity care.”

In addition to copies of tax returns, W-2 forms, pay stubs, and bank statements, 53 questions about their finances. These include questions about the make, model, and value of vehicles; the current market value of farm equipment, livestock, and land; and the purchase price and square footage of homes.

Other hospital applications ask patients to detail their monthly spending on food, utilities, and other medical bills.

Olsen said community pressure is more of a deterrent to applying for aid than the application: “People are too proud to pick up an application. We all know each other.”

But Walker at Dollar For said the biggest barrier is complexity. “The drop-off rates are much higher the more questions you ask and the more documentation you have to provide,” he said.

Arleen Mullenax had a cancerous tumor removed from her neck at Mayo in Rochester. Assembling her aid application and following up with the hospital billing department amid her “cancer fog” was almost more than she could take, she said.

“I knew as a former office manager I had to stay on top of it,” she said. “But it was the most daunting thing I had to do as a patient.”

Fixing the System

Ellison and several state lawmakers say Minnesota’s hospitals should make it simpler for patients to access charity care.

They’ve called for, among other things, common eligibility standards and a standard application across hospitals. New York and Maryland already have both.

“Eliminating as many barriers as possible for people is really important,” said state Sen. Liz Boldon, who also said she hopes lawmakers can enact these standards next session.

The Minnesota Hospital Association has opposed standardizing financial assistance, saying hospital boards are in the best position to assess the need for charity care in their communities. “Adding mandates for providers across the state will not close that gap, and will only increase bureaucratic and procedural barriers to patient care,” spokesperson Nelson said.

Ellison also has pushed to require hospitals to use a process that automatically screens and qualifies low-income patients for financial aid without requiring an application.

Some hospital systems, including South Dakota-based Sanford Health, already use software that checks patients’ eligibility based on information such as their credit history, said Nick Olson, the system’s chief financial officer. At Sanford Health’s 10 hospitals in Minnesota, about a quarter of the patients who receive financial aid get it this way, he said.

Nearly all Sanford hospitals devote more than 1% of their operating expenditures to charity care — higher than most hospitals in the state.

Screening software can be costly. Several executives at small Minnesota hospitals said they can’t afford it. But there are other options. In California, Los Angeles County is developing a public system to allow hospitals to quickly assess patients’ eligibility so they don’t have to buy a system themselves.

Other states — including Texas and Nevada — have laws requiring hospitals to provide minimum amounts of charity care.

Back in St. Cloud, Roberts said that when she drives past CentraCare’s $200 million expansion at its Plaza campus in St. Cloud, she wonders why Minnesota hospitals don’t live up to higher standards themselves.

“They have all the money,” she said. “But they can’t grant a good person some grace?”

Minnesota Star Tribune staff writers Bill Lukitsch and Victor Stefanescu contributed to this report.

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HAY SPRINGS, Neb.— The sun was just warming the horizon as Mark Pieper left his house near his cattle ranch on a crisp February morning.

It’s not unusual for the rancher to wake up early to tend to livestock, but at 5:45 a.m. this day his cattle wouldn’t come first. For the past 3½ years, three days a week, Pieper has made an early-morning commute to get dialysis at the nearest hospital.

Pieper lives outside Hay Springs, which has 599 residents, according to a sign at the edge of town. He makes sure not to forget his chocolate-brown cowboy hat before starting up his pickup truck for the half-hour drive to Chadron.

That February morning was one of his last dialysis sessions there before the hospital shuttered the service at the end of March.

“I guess I’ll just bloat up and die in a month,” Pieper remembered thinking when he learned the center was closing, eliminating the only option near his home.

He needs dialysis to survive after cancer treatment damaged his kidneys.

Pieper and 16 other patients relied on Chadron Hospital for the life-sustaining therapy that filters waste and fluid from their blood — a job their failing kidneys could no longer do. Treatment lasts about four hours.

The closure is just one example of the long decline of health care services in rural America, where people have higher rates of many chronic conditions but less access to care than elsewhere.

The Trump administration promised to address this problem, when it launched the $50 billion federal Rural Health Transformation Program in September. It may not be enough to stop the trend.

“[President Donald] Trump says he is going to help the rural health care,” Pieper said. Dialysis “is one thing that we really need here.”

Some patients have moved to live closer to care, including several nursing home residents. Their new facilities may be farther from their families.

Others are making long drives to dialysis centers. Pieper eventually found treatment in Scottsbluff, which, with about 14,000 residents, is the biggest city in the rural Panhandle region of western Nebraska. The hour-and-a-half drive will triple his time on the road to more than nine hours each week.

Jim Wright and his wife reduced their drive time — but are spending more money — by renting a small home near Rapid City, South Dakota, and living there on weekdays so he can get dialysis. Wright said he understands that rural hospitals face financial challenges.

“But we’re talking about something that’s lifesaving. It’s not a matter of, ‘Oh, I would like to be there’” getting treatment, he said. “It’s a case that if you don’t, you die.”

An Influx of Money That’s Out of Reach

Jon Reiners, CEO of the independent, nonprofit Chadron Hospital, wrestled with the decision to end dialysis services. He and several patients said that the closure was announced as the $219 million the state will receive in first-year funding from the .

But the five-year program is aimed at exploring new, creative ways to improve rural health, not to help existing services stay afloat. States can use only up to 15% of their funding to pay providers for patient care.

At least 11 states — Nebraska is not among them — have mentioned using funding for rural dialysis programs, according to a ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News review of applications. Their ideas include starting a mobile dialysis unit and helping people get treatment at home or in long-term care facilities.

Reiners said Chadron Hospital lost $1 million a year on its dialysis service due to low reimbursement rates that didn’t cover operational costs.

The facility is a critical access hospital, a designation that allows certain small, mostly rural hospitals to get increased reimbursement rates for their Medicare patients. While most of the affected patients were on Medicare, the critical access program doesn’t cover outpatient dialysis, Reiners said.

Reiners said the hospital worked for more than a year to find solutions, such as reaching out to four private companies to potentially take over the center. But he said they all passed after realizing they would lose money.

Nephrologist Mark Unruh said the dialysis closure in Chadron reflects a wider trend of staffing and funding challenges.

“You do end up in situations where you have people who are displaced like this, and it’s just sad,” said Unruh, chair of the Internal Medicine Department at the University of New Mexico.

People in rural America face significant disparities in kidney health and treatment, published in 2024 in the American Journal of Nephrology. They’re and face after diagnosis, according to data from the National Institutes of Health.

The best way to address this is to focus on prevention, Unruh said. He pointed to a that helps primary care doctors in rural and other underserved areas prevent end-stage renal failure.

Another idea, Unruh said, is boosting the rate of kidney transplantation for rural patients. He’s looking at whether it’s helpful to “fast-track” tests patients need to get approved for a transplant by scheduling all of them over a couple of days to limit travel time.

Unruh said the U.S. health system also needs to recruit more staff who can train patients and their caregivers to administer dialysis at home.

Exploring the Option of Home Dialysis

Rural dialysis patients are more likely than urban ones to get home dialysis, according to . In 2023, the rate was nearly 18% for rural patients and about 14% for urban ones.

One type of home dialysis requires surgery to get a catheter placed in the abdomen and . The other kind requires . The nearest facility to Chadron that offers training for the first option is in Scottsbluff. The nearest that offers training for the latter kind is three hours away in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Pieper said doctors told him he’s not a candidate for home dialysis or a transplant. The Panhandle has a nonprofit, rural transit system, but its schedule won’t work for Pieper. He said that leaves him with no choice but to get treatment in Scottsbluff, a 200-mile round trip.

It takes Linda Simonson even longer — more than four hours round trip — to drive her husband, Alan, from their ranch to his treatment in Scottsbluff.

Linda sat in the waiting room with a yellow legal pad during one of Alan’s final treatments in Chadron. The paper was scrawled with phone numbers of politicians to call and driving distances to dialysis centers in the region. She said facilities closer to their ranch either don’t have room for new patients or lack good spots along the route to take a driving break in bad weather.

“It’s just unreal,” she said.

She said even if Alan took a bus, she’d have to ride along to support him during the trip and his treatment.

Jim and Carol Wright, the couple staying near Rapid City on weekdays, said they can’t afford to rent a second home forever. Their weekly commute is already taking a physical and emotional toll. They said they’ll eventually have to move to a bigger city, giving up the house they love in the scenic Nebraska National Forest.

Carol said she feels for the dialysis staffers in Chadron, who are wonderful.

“It just doesn’t seem right to sacrifice one unit that’s so vital,” she said while standing next to a pile of moving boxes stacked inside their rental.

The Wrights wrote letters to politicians and hospital leaders to share their concerns and ideas for keeping the unit open, including using the federal rural health funding.

Simonson said she spoke with aides for the governor and her state representatives but none of the leaders called her back.

“It feels like they don’t know that we exist at this end of the state,” she said.

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After his mom finally saw a specialist in Glasgow, about an hour away, she was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, Bighorn said.

Now, 16 years after his mother’s death, Bighorn has access to regular screenings for cancer and other specialty care that she didn’t have, through a health insurance program the Fort Peck Tribes created in 2016. The program, which covers most of the costs for the roughly 1,000 tribal citizens enrolled, is among a growing number of tribally sponsored health insurance programs.

Such programs vary by tribe, but they essentially screen and enroll people living within tribal boundaries in Affordable Care Act marketplace plans. They allow participating Native Americans flexibility to go to outside doctors and clinics when care through the Indian Health Service is unavailable.

“I’d be in a bind otherwise,” said Bighorn, a 65-year-old tribal game warden and member of the Dakota community.

But the Fort Peck Tribes now limit who has access to that coverage. Other tribal organizations that offer Native Americans similar coverage are struggling with rising costs, too.

The financial crunch began when congressional lawmakers allowed enhanced subsidies under the Affordable Care Act to expire on Dec. 31. Those tax credits, created under the Biden administration during the covid-19 pandemic, expanded subsidized health coverage for millions of people. By late 2025, ACA plans saw about 24 million enrollees, more than twice the number of pre-pandemic annual sign-ups. The cost of coverage shot up for most of those people as the expanded subsidies expired, and enrollment has dropped by , according to federal health officials.

The subsidies had also boosted tribal health insurance programs, like the one Bighorn is enrolled in. The programs pay the price of each person’s share of premiums after subsidies, and the coverage lowers patients’ treatment costs. Now that premium prices have ballooned, so have tribes’ costs.

Rae Jean Belgarde, who directs Fort Peck Tribes’ program, said the higher costs leave the tribes with one option at this point: “Start limiting who gets help.”

The tribes are helping people shift to other insurance options and, in some cases, find state programs to cover their premiums. Tribal leaders also sent a letter to Montana’s all-Republican congressional delegation asking them to support extending the subsidies.

“Our program is saving lives,” the letter read. Belgarde said she didn’t know whether the lawmakers responded.

Scrambling for Solutions

U.S. a temporary extension of the enhanced subsidies in January. But that measure . Lawmakers are scrambling for an alternative after President Donald Trump an extension if a bill reaches his desk. On Jan. 15, the president released that includes creating savings accounts for people to pay their health costs — an idea Senate Republicans as an alternative to the subsidies.

A.C. Locklear, CEO of the , a nonprofit that works to improve health in Native communities, said tribes are “looking at ways to cut back just as much as everyone else.”

Native Americans as a group continue to face disproportionately high rates of chronic diseases. Their median age at death is 14 years younger than that of white Americans.

“Reducing access to even just general primary care has a significant impact on those disparities,” Locklear said.

Tribal leaders have said letting the subsidies expire further undermines the federal government’s duty to ensure adequate care for Native Americans.

In exchange for taking tribal land through colonization, the U.S. government made long-standing promises to provide for the health and well-being of tribes. Native Americans are guaranteed free health care at clinics and hospitals operated or funded by the Indian Health Service. But that agency’s chronic underfunding has created massive blackouts in care. It sometimes pays for patients’ outside care through its Purchased/Referred Care program, but that’s limited too. Due to funding shortfalls, the agency prioritizes which treatments it will pay for.

To help fill the coverage gaps, some tribal nations have built their own health insurance programs. When tribes pay health premiums, clinics and hospitals in their areas can bill for services that might otherwise go unpaid. Some tribes have leveraged that money to expand services.

“I don’t see tribes getting rid of these programs,” Locklear said. “But it will drastically shift how much tribes can really put back in their community.”

For example, Tuba City Regional Health Care Corp., in northern Arizona within the Navajo Nation, is unique in providing comprehensive cancer treatment on a reservation, Locklear said. The corporation, he said, estimates its costs to cover patients this year are increasing by roughly 170% to nearly $38,000 per month without the enhanced subsidies.

One of the newer programs is on the Blackfeet reservation in northwestern Montana, where basic health services can be hard to find. Medical visits are often offered on a first-come, first-served basis, and services vanish when staff positions go unfilled, said Lyle Rutherford, a Blackfeet Nation council member.

“Some of it is just getting a regular eye appointment, or a primary care appointment,” Rutherford said.

The tribe has been slowly building its health insurance program since launching it in 2024. Rutherford said the enhanced subsidies made that possible. Fewer than 400 people are enrolled out of an estimated 3,000 who qualify. In January, the tribe paused the employer-sponsored coverage portion of its insurance program, which at the time included 52 people.

He said tribal leaders are seeking extra funding to keep the program afloat, and he hopes Congress finds a solution.

Lives on the Line

The impact goes beyond tribes’ insurance programs. The Urban Institute, a Washington, D.C.-based economic and social policy research nonprofit, will become uninsured in 2026 due to the higher costs.

Patients at the Oyate Health Center in Rapid City, South Dakota, are already reporting sky-high premium increases for ACA plans. CEO Jerilyn Church said it’s too soon to know how many will forgo coverage. But she said more uninsured patients would further strain the IHS Purchased/Referred Care program — with officials raising the bar for how sick patients must be to cover care outside of tribal health sites.

“There will be people that will not be able to get the care they need,” Church said, adding that could translate to “people losing their lives.”

Bighorn, the game warden on the Fort Peck Reservation, is among those still covered by the tribes’ insurance program. He has put it to use.

Soon after enrolling, Bighorn needed two hip replacements, surgeries that require off-reservation care and are ranked as low-priority procedures by the Indian Health Service. Bighorn said that in pre-surgery tests, specialists found the cause for his long-standing, dangerously high blood pressure. The diagnosis: untreated lifelong asthma and sleep apnea.

“I was a miserable man, tired all the time,” he said.

Without the tribe’s coverage, Bighorn may have eventually gotten those diagnoses but said it would have likely taken years to get help through the Indian Health Service. That would have meant getting much sicker before receiving care.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News correspondent Arielle Zionts contributed to this report.

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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Then 25 years old and six months pregnant, she drove herself to the emergency room in Ronan, Montana, on the Flathead Indian Reservation, where an ambulance transferred her to a larger hospital 60 miles away in Missoula. Once she arrived, the staff couldn’t detect her baby’s heartbeat. Swaney began to bleed heavily. She delivered a stillborn baby and was hospitalized for several days. At one point, doctors told her to call her family. They didn’t expect her to survive.

“It certainly changed my life — the experience — but my life has not been a bad life,” she told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

Though her experiences were nearly 50 years ago, Swaney, a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, said Native Americans continue to receive inadequate maternal care. The data appears to support that belief.

In 2024, the most recent year for which data for the population is available, Native American and Alaska Native people had the among major demographic groups, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

In response to this disparity, Native organizations, the CDC, and some states are working to boost tribal participation in state maternal mortality review committees to better track and address pregnancy-related deaths in their communities. Native organizations are also considering ways tribes could create their own committees.

State maternal mortality review committees investigate deaths that occur during pregnancy or within a year after pregnancy, analyze data, and issue policy recommendations to lower death rates.

According to 2021 CDC data, compiled from 46 maternal mortality review committees, 87% of maternal deaths in the U.S. were deemed preventable. Committees reported that , deaths among Native American and Alaska Native people were considered preventable.

Our matriarchs, our moms, are what carries a nation forward.

Kim Moore-Salas

State committees have received federal money through the Preventing Maternal Deaths Act, which President Donald Trump signed in 2018.

But the money is scheduled to dry up on Jan. 31, when the short-term spending bill that ended the government shutdown expires.

Funding for the committees is included in the Labor, Health and Human Services, Education, and Related Agencies for fiscal year 2026. That bill must be approved by the House, Senate, and president to take effect.

Native American leaders said including members of their communities in maternal mortality review committee activities is an important step in addressing mortality disparities.

In 2023, tribal leaders and federal officials met to discuss four models: a mortality review committee for each tribe, a committee for each of the 12 Indian Health Service administrative regions, a national committee to review all Native American maternal deaths, and the addition of Native American subcommittees to state committees.

Whatever the model, tribal sovereignty, experience, and traditional knowledge are important factors, said Kim Moore-Salas, a co-chair of the Arizona Maternal Mortality Review Committee. She’s also the chairperson of the panel’s American Indian/Alaska Native mortality review subcommittee and a member of the Navajo Nation.

“Our matriarchs, our moms, are what carries a nation forward,” she said.

Mental health conditions and infection were the leading underlying causes of pregnancy-related death among Native American and Alaska Native women as of 2021, according to the CDC report analyzing data from 46 states.

The CDC found an estimated 68% of pregnancy-related deaths among Native American and Alaska Native people happened within a week of delivery to a year postpartum. The majority of those happened between 43 days and a year after birth.

The federal government has a responsibility under signed treaties to provide health care to the 575 federally recognized tribes in the U.S. through the Indian Health Service. Tribal members can receive limited services at no cost, but the agency is underfunded and understaffed.

A that analyzed data from 2016 to 2020 found that approximately 75% of Native American and Alaska Native pregnant people didn’t have access to care through the Indian Health Service around the time of giving birth, meaning many likely sought care elsewhere. More than 90% of Native American and Alaska Native births occur outside of IHS facilities, . For those who did deliver at IHS facilities, a from the Department of Health and Human Services’ Office of Inspector General found that 56% of labor and delivery patients received care that did not follow national clinical guidelines.

The 2024 study’s authors also found that members of the population were less likely to have stable insurance coverage and more likely to have a lapse in coverage during the period close to birth than non-Hispanic white people.

Cindy Gamble, who is Tlingit and a tribal community health consultant for the American Indian Health Commission in Washington, has been a member of the state’s maternal mortality review panel for about eight years. In the time she’s been on the state panel, she said, its composition has broadened to include more people of color and community members.

The panel also began to include suicide, overdose, and homicide deaths in its data analysis and added racism and discrimination to the risk factors considered during its case review process.

Solutions need to be tailored to the tribe’s identity and needs, Gamble said.

“It’s not a one-size-fits-all,” Gamble said, “because of all the beliefs and different cultures and languages that different tribes have.”

Gamble’s tenure on the state committee is distinctive. Few states have tribal representation on maternal mortality review committees, according to the National Indian Health Board, a nonprofit organization that advocates for tribal health.

The National Council of Urban Indian Health is also the participation of Urban Indian health organizations, which provide care for Native American people who live outside of reservations, in state maternal mortality review processes. As of 2025, the council had connected Urban Indian health organizations to state review committees in California, Kansas, Oklahoma, and South Dakota.

Native leaders such as Moore-Salas find the current efforts encouraging.

“It shows that state and tribes can work together,” she said.

In March 2024, Moore-Salas became the first Native American co-chair of Arizona’s Maternal Mortality Review Committee. In 2025 she and other Native American members of the committee developed guidelines for the American Indian/Alaska Native subcommittee and reviewed the group’s first cases.

The subcommittee is exploring ways to make the data collection and analysis process more culturally relevant to their population, Moore-Salas said.

But it takes time for policy changes to create widespread change in the health of a population, Gamble said. Despite efforts around the country, other factors may hinder the pace of progress. For example, maternity care deserts are growing nationally, caused by rapid hospital and labor and delivery unit closures. Health experts have raised concerns that upcoming cuts to Medicaid will hasten these closures.

Despite her experience and the ongoing crisis among Native American and Alaska Native people, Swaney hopes for change.

She had a second complicated pregnancy soon after her stillbirth. She went into labor about three months early, and the doctors said her son wouldn’t live to the next morning. But he did, and he was transferred about 525 miles away from Missoula to the nearest advanced neonatal unit, in Salt Lake City.

Her son, Kelly Camel, is now 48. He has severe cerebral palsy and profound deafness. He lives alone but has caregivers to help with cooking and other tasks, said Swaney, 73.

He “has a good sense of humor. He’s kind to other people. We couldn’t ask for a more complete child.”

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The outbreaks are fueled by falling vaccination rates, fading immunity, and delays in public health tracking systems, according to interviews with state and federal health officials. Babies too young to be fully vaccinated are most at risk.

“Pertussis cases increase in a cyclical fashion driven by waning immunity, but the size of the outbreak and the potential for severe outcomes in children who cannot be vaccinated can be mitigated by high coverage and good communication to folks at risk,” said Demetre Daskalakis, a former head of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s immunization program, who resigned in August.

Before the first pertussis vaccine became available in the , whooping cough was one of the most common childhood diseases and a in the United States. Today, children get a series of DTaP shots (full-dose version) starting at 2 months old, and teens and adults receive a Tdap booster (lower-dose version) every 10 years. (Both vaccines target diphtheria and tetanus in addition to pertussis.)

Until recently, had received four doses of the DTaP vaccine by age 2, and case rates were controlled. But vaccine coverage has declined since the covid pandemic and increases in state nonmedical exemptions have widened immunity gaps, which is when the proportion of individuals who are immune falls below the level needed to contain spread.

Texas logged in 2024. By October 2025, the state had . National numbers are just as stark: In the first three months of 2025, the U.S. tallied — four times last year’s pace and 25 times 2023’s. Several states are posting their highest case totals in a decade, and outbreaks from Louisiana to South Dakota to Idaho make clear this surge isn’t regional. It’s everywhere.

Key Factors Behind These Numbers

Texas lawmakers recently passed a law that for parents to claim nonmedical exemptions from school vaccine requirements by allowing them to download exemption forms online. These forms now go straight to schools, not health departments, making the exemptions harder to track.

Dallas County Health and Human Services Director Phil Huang said the full impact of the new exemption rule is not yet known because it began this school year, but he expects it will make school-level vaccination rates fall even more.

He’s already noted a dramatic drop in vaccinations. Normally, during back-to-school season, “our whole front downstairs area is packed,” he said. “We did not see that this year.”

Huang believes fear of immigration enforcement may be keeping at least some families, especially Hispanic families, from getting vaccinated. Dallas County is about 40% Hispanic. “We think that a lot of them are deterred by the ICE activity,” he said, referring to Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

More complications: These vaccines protect against severe disease, but protection against infection fades over time, as is the case with the covid and influenza vaccines.

The U.S. switched in the 1990s from whole-cell pertussis vaccines to “acellular” ones, which cause fewer side effects but do not last as long. Because more adults today than in the past received the acellular vaccine as children, many have lost immunity over time and may unknowingly pass the infection to babies.

Babies Face the Greatest Risk

Whooping cough is especially dangerous for infants under a year old. Some stop breathing during coughing fits. Many need hospital care, about of whom develop pneumonia, and about 1% of whom die.

Because of this high risk, the CDC urges pregnant women to get a . This allows the mother’s antibodies to pass to the baby before birth.

Health officials once promoted “cocooning,” vaccinating all family members and caregivers around the baby, but that strategy was hard to carry out in real life and is . Vaccination of pregnant women and babies at 2 months of age remains the strongest protection.

Better Testing Finds More Cases

Modern is also than in the past. Many clinics now routinely use this lab-based technology to test for several respiratory infections at once, including pertussis. Ten years ago, these panels were uncommon.

CDC experts say this explains part of the rise in case counts. But the large number of infant hospitalizations and the size of state outbreaks show that true transmission has also increased.

A Growing Worry: Antibiotic Resistance

Doctors normally treat pertussis with , such as erythromycin, azithromycin, and clarithromycin. These drugs work best early in the illness and help stop spread. Another drug, trimethoprim-sulfamethoxazole, is an option for some older infants and adults.

But has become common abroad, especially in China, and recent reports show resistance rising in Peru. In the U.S., resistant cases have been rare.

CDC officials warn that resistant strains could spread more easily through international travel. Because treatment options are limited, especially for very young infants, health workers are watching this closely.

Huang said macrolide resistance has not been seen yet in Dallas County. But he is aware of the national concern.

What Happens Now

The resurgence of whooping cough has no single cause. Instead, several problems are occurring at once: falling vaccine coverage, only of pregnant women receiving Tdap, waning immunity, improved testing, and early signs of antibiotic resistance.

Health experts say solutions must match the problem’s complexity.

Across the nation, clinicians are being told to have a higher suspicion for pertussis when they see patients, especially children or caregivers of newborns with a persistent cough or coughing fits followed by vomiting. Babies who stop breathing or turn blue need immediate care.

Obstetricians are encouraged to discuss Tdap during every pregnancy. Pediatricians and family doctors are urged to check booster status for teens and adults.

Several states have issued health advisories over the past two years, including , which has in both 2024 and 2025 urging clinicians to stay vigilant.

Huang said Dallas County is trying to rebuild public health outreach programs that were cut when covid funding ended. But staffing is still limited. “There’s just a lot of different things that are making it more difficult,” he said.

He also noted that Dallas County now receives immunization registry data only once a month, rather than daily, making it harder to track vaccine coverage. “We don’t have that yet. … It’s not real time,” he said.

Protecting the Youngest

As the holiday season approaches, experts urge families with newborns to take extra care:

• Ensure infants and children are up to date with their childhood vaccines and that everyone in the family is up to date with their vaccines for influenza, covid, and RSV, or respiratory syncytial virus.
• Keep sick visitors away.
• Seek care quickly if an infant has a cough or pauses breathing.

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Kopplin, a physician assistant who works with seniors, low-income people, and mental health patients in the rural Black Hills, shared her thoughts at a meeting hosted by state officials.

South Dakota’s leaders did a “good job of diving in” and asking questions to get “deeper at the root of the problem,” she said.

Kopplin later told ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News how one of her rural patients recently missed two appointments because of a broken-down car and no access to public transportation.

Nationwide, health care workers like Kopplin and thousands of others — from patient advocates to technology executives — flocked to town halls or online portals during the seven weeks state leaders had to craft and submit their applications for the Rural Health Transformation Program to the federal Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. That deadline was Nov. 5.

“We will give $50 billion away by the end of the year,” CMS Administrator Mehmet Oz said Nov. 6 at a Milken Institute event in Washington. He said all 50 states had submitted applications.

The program will “allow us to right-size the health care system,” Oz said, adding that innovations from the rural work “will spill over to suburban and urban America as well.”

Among applications and summaries publicly shared by states, themes include workforce development, telehealth, and access to healthy food. In Kansas, leaders want to build a “Food is Medicine” program. Wyoming officials propose a new program called “BearCare,” a state-sponsored health insurance plan that patients could use only after medical emergencies.

But many health policy experts and Democrats are raising alarms that the Republican-backed program will become a “slush fund.” Critics worry it will fail to reach the small-town patients they say need it most, especially as states face nearly a trillion dollars in Medicaid spending reductions over the next decade. Medicaid, a joint federal-state program, serves nearly rural Americans.

“The status quo is tremendous distress in rural communities,” said Heather Howard, a professor of the practice at Princeton University and director of the university’s State Health and Value Strategies program, which is tracking the rural health fund. The new funding won’t be enough to offset the Medicaid losses, she said.

Congressional Republicans added the five-year, $50 billion Rural Health Transformation Program as a last-minute sweetener to President Donald Trump’s massive tax-and-spending legislation. The move helped win support for the One Big Beautiful Bill Act from conservative holdouts who worried that the Medicaid cuts in the bill would harm rural hospitals in their states.

In Montana, which hosted an online public forum before submitting its application, a nonprofit director pitched youth peer support as a way of battling high suicide rates. A registered nurse asked state leaders to “think maybe even bigger” and consider statewide universal health care.

And in Georgia, a technology-focused chain of primary care clinics that serves seniors proposed expanding its operations into that state in its online public comment. A rural grant writer asked for “safe and stable housing.”

The law says half of the $50 billion will be divided equally among all states with an approved application. The rest will be doled out according to a points-based system. Of , $12.5 billion will be allotted based on each state’s rurality. The remaining $12.5 billion will go to states that on initiatives and policies that, in part, mirror the Trump administration’s “” objectives.

Top Senate Democrats have raised alarms about the rural health program. They include Ron Wyden of Oregon and Tina Smith of Minnesota, who a federal watchdog agency to investigate the fairness and implementation of the fund. Taylor Harvey, a Wyden aide, said the Government Accountability Office has confirmed it will investigate.

According to , no less than a quarter of states with an approved application may share the second half of the funding each fiscal year, CMS spokesperson Catherine Howden said. The agency plans to publish summaries of approved state projects, .

A handful of conservative-leaning states — including Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, and Oklahoma — have already instituted regulatory and legislative initiatives, such as prohibiting “non-nutritious” foods in benefit programs, that in the program application process.

Michael Chameides, a county supervisor in rural New York, said he fears the money could “be used in ways that would hurt certain states or reward certain states.” Chameides is also the communications and policy director with the Rural Democracy Initiative, a national advocacy organization that released last month.

Edwin Park, a research professor at Georgetown University’s Center for Children and Families, said federal lawmakers gave Oz and his agency “really excessive discretion” when awarding the money.

Federal administrators have added rules that aren’t within the statute that created the program, Park said. For example, its application guidelines say states cannot use more than 15% of their funding to pay providers for patient care — payments that are expected to take a hit due to the Medicaid cuts.

Georgetown’s health policy experts and Democrats aren’t the only ones with concerns. and in Ohio worry the money will go to large health systems instead of smaller, independent hospitals that serve people within their rural communities.

CMS’ Oz repeated the idea of getting “big hospitals to adopt smaller institutions” at the Washington gathering after applications were filed. He used similar language at a rural health summit hosted by South Dakota-based Sanford Health. “How do we get big hospitals to adopt smaller hospitals? Not to take them over, but to keep them viable by giving them good telehealth services, specialty support, radiology support,” he said at the October event.

Sanford owns or manages dozens of hospitals and hundreds of clinics and long-term care centers, as well as a health insurance company. The system reported about $81 million in operating income during the first six months of fiscal year 2025, according to .

Last year, Sanford opened a “command center” for its systemwide telehealth initiative. It launched a telehealth expansion in 2021 and offers virtual care for 78 medical specialties, Sanford President and CEO Bill Gassen said.

“We’ve tried to imagine, what if that number doubles?” Gassen said. The startup costs for telehealth are high, he said, and the rural fund could be a unique opportunity “for us to make virtual care available to more patients, to more communities, to more hospitals and health systems across the country.”

Gassen, who is set to chair the American Hospital Association in 2027, said Sanford leaders have met with state and federal officials, including Oz, whom he’s known for years, and Chris Klomp, a top deputy at CMS and a senior adviser to Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

The word “telehealth” appears 36 times in the rural health program’s 124-page application guidelines. But Don Robbins Jr., chief executive of a small hospital on the Illinois-Kentucky border, chuckled at the idea of using the funding for that purpose.

Robbins, whose 25-bed Massac Memorial Hospital averages five to seven patients in its beds each day, said his hospital does not regularly offer telehealth. Even if it did, he said, patients living more than a mile outside of town couldn’t use it because they don’t have a good internet connection.

The small hospital reported a $31,314 loss in September, Robbins said. “I think if we get anything out of it,” Robbins said of the rural health program, “we’ll be lucky.”

Kopplin, the physician assistant who attended the South Dakota meeting, is cautiously optimistic about the rural health fund. She views it as a wonderful chance for states to test out ideas and learn from what works and what doesn’t.

But “in a lot of ways this bill is going to be a band-aid approach” for rural health, she said. “It’s not really going to fix the problem.”

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Patients begin lining up before dawn at , an annual five-day health clinic in Texas’ Rio Grande Valley. Many residents in this predominantly spanning the Mexican border lack insurance, making the health fair a major source of free medical care in South Texas for more than 25 years.

Until this year. The Trump administration’s plan to strip in federal public health and pandemic funds from Texas helped prompt just before its scheduled July 21 start.

“Some people come every year and rely on it,” said Hidalgo County Health and Human Services Director Dairen Sarmiento Rangel. “Some people even camp out outside of Border Health so they can be the first in line to receive services. This event is very important to our community.”

States and local governments have made painful program cuts in the wake of major reductions in federal health funding that have already taken effect. Now, they’re sizing up the financial hits to come — some not until late next year or beyond — from the “,” the tax and spending law congressional Republicans passed in July that enacts much of President Donald Trump’s domestic agenda.

Texas, for instance, expects to see its federal Medicaid funds reduced by as much as over 10 years due to new barriers for enrollment, such as more frequent eligibility checks, according to a July analysis by KFF.

Taken together, the reductions amount to a seismic shift in how state health programs are provided and paid for. The administration is, in effect, pushing a significant amount of health costs to states. That will force their leaders to make difficult choices, as many state budgets are already strained by declining tax revenues, a slowdown in federal pandemic spending, and economic uncertainty.

Revenue forecasters have lowered expectations for the coming year, according to a .

“It’s almost inevitable that states will enact a number of cuts to health services because of the fiscal pressure,” said Wesley Tharpe, senior adviser for state tax policy at the left-leaning .

Some are proactively trying to stanch the impact.

Hawaii lawmakers are looking to aid nonprofits that are already contending with federal funding cuts. They’re in grants to health, social service, and other nonprofits hit by federal funding cuts. To get the money, nonprofits must show a termination or drop in funding, or that they have otherwise been harmed by the cuts.

“It is not fair that organizations dedicated to supporting the people of Hawaii are being forced to scale back due to federal funding cuts,” Democratic Gov. Josh Green .

Other states are scaling back projects to contend with cuts. Delaware Gov. Matt Meyer, a Democrat, received notice in March that the Trump administration was in public health funding from the state. The next month, state legislative leaders halted a planned project to upgrade and expand the Capitol complex as a result.

“We recognized that the reckless federal cuts to the social safety nets of thousands of Delawareans called for us to hold back resources to protect our most vulnerable,” said , president pro tempore of the Delaware Senate.

In New Mexico, the state with the , a bipartisan group of lawmakers voted to create a trust fund to boost funding for the program. About 10% of the more than covered by Medicaid and the related Children’s Health Insurance Program could lose their health coverage under the federal spending law, based on .

Some state leaders are warning constituents that the worst may be yet to come.

At an Aug. 18 event at a hospital in the South Bronx section of New York City, New York Gov. Kathy Hochul, a Democrat, stood on stage among health care workers in white coats to skewer Trump’s new law.

“What Republicans in Washington have done through the ‘Big Ugliest Bill’ I’ve ever seen is literally screwing New Yorkers,” she said. The state’s health system is bracing for in annual cuts.

And in California, lawmakers weighed the impact of the coming cuts from the federal law at a general assembly , where some Democratic legislators said state efforts to protect reproductive health services and other programs were in jeopardy.

“We’ve been bracing for this reality: President Trump’s so-called ‘Big, Beautiful Bill’ is now law,” Democratic lawmaker Gregg Hart said at the hearing, calling it a “direct assault on California’s core programs and our values.”

“Sadly, the reality is, the state does not have the capacity to backfill all of these draconian federal funding cuts in the current budget,” Hart said. “We cannot simply write a check and make this go away.”

The sweeping budget law, which passed without any Democratic support, will reduce federal spending on Medicaid by about over the next decade, based on estimates from the . The spending reductions largely come from the imposition of a on people who’ve obtained Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act’s expansion, as well as other new barriers to coverage.

The law will mean more than 7.5 million people will lose Medicaid coverage and become uninsured, according to the Congressional Budget Office, while extending tax cuts for wealthy people who, Democrats say, don’t need them. Republicans and Trump have said the spending package and its accompanying program cuts were necessary to prevent fraud and waste, and to sustain Medicaid, a state-federal program for people with disabilities and lower incomes.

“The One Big Beautiful Bill removes illegal aliens, enforces work requirements, and protects Medicaid for the truly vulnerable,” the White House said in a .

The Medicaid cuts won’t begin until after the midterm elections in November 2026, but other cuts have already hit.

The Trump administration has sought to claw back earmarked to states because of the pandemic, spurring a with a coalition of Democratic-led states. It also in for mental health services in schools, and halted grants from the National Institutes of Health that provided money to more than 90 public universities.

HHS press secretary Emily Hilliard said the agency is prioritizing investments that advance Trump’s mandate to confront chronic disease. She defended some of the cuts and said, erroneously, that the spending law doesn’t cut Medicaid.

“The covid-19 pandemic is over, and HHS will no longer waste billions of taxpayer dollars responding to a crisis that Americans moved on from years ago,” she said.

State leaders say the pandemic funding the administration wants returned was earmarked for other public health measures, such as tracking emerging diseases, outbreak responses, and staffing. State attorneys general in May won a against the administration.

“What we’re seeing now is states anticipating big cuts in Medicaid coming, but they’re also dealing with a whole variety of federal cutbacks in public health programs that are smaller but still quite meaningful,” said , executive vice president for health policy at KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

Part of the challenge for states is simply understanding the changes.

“I think it’s fair to say there is concern, confusion, and uncertainty,” said Kathryn Costanza, a Medicaid expert at the National Conference of State Legislatures.

States are struggling to sort it all out, forming that are , suing to try to block the cuts, and reallocating funding.

In Colorado, lawmakers to let state Medicaid dollars pay for non-abortion care at Planned Parenthood of America clinics after Trump’s law banned federal funding for such care. Whether the ban holds up in court .

The Louisiana Legislature to state universities to make up for cuts to federal research funding, much of which goes to health-related research.

And in South Dakota, the state’s largest food bank has to make up for funding cuts to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

States must balance their budgets every year, so cuts put many services at risk if state lawmakers are unwilling to raise taxes. The work will begin in earnest in January, when many states begin new legislative sessions.

And the tough choices are likely to continue. Congressional House Republicans are considering legislation that could , including by slashing the generous cost sharing the federal government provides for 20 million adults who enrolled in Medicaid under the ACA’s Medicaid expansion.

Some states will roll back their Medicaid expansions and cut more health programs as a result.

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Wieder is a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes in Montana and can access some health services free of charge through her tribe’s health clinics. But funding is limited, so, like a lot of Native American people, she relied on Medicaid for herself and Oakleigh.

Months before Oakleigh’s 1st birthday, the date when Wieder’s postpartum coverage would come to an end, Wieder completed and returned paperwork to enroll her daughter in Healthy Montana Kids, the state’s version of the Children’s Health Insurance Program. But her paperwork, caught up in the lengthy delays and processing times for applications, did not go through.

“As soon as she turned 1, they cut her off completely,” Wieder said.

It took six months for Wieder to get Oakleigh covered again through Healthy Montana Kids. Before health workers in her tribe stepped in to help her resubmit her application, Wieder repeatedly called the state’s health department. She said she would dial the call center when she arrived at her job in the morning and go about her work while waiting on hold, only for the call to be dropped by the end of the day.

“Never did I talk to anybody,” she said.

Wieder and Oakleigh’s experience is an example of the chaos for eligible Medicaid beneficiaries caused by the process known as the “unwinding,” which led to millions of people in the U.S. losing coverage due to paperwork or other procedural issues. Now, tribal health leaders fear their communities will experience more health coverage disruptions when new federal Medicaid work and eligibility requirements are implemented by the start of 2027.

The tax-and-spending law that President Donald Trump signed this summer exempts Native Americans from the new requirement that some people work or do another qualifying activity a minimum number of hours each month to be eligible for Medicaid, as well as from more frequent eligibility checks. But as Wieder and her daughter’s experience shows, they are not exempt from getting caught up in procedural disenrollments that could reemerge as states implement the new rules.

“We also know from the unwinding that that just doesn’t always play out necessarily correctly in practice,” said Joan Alker, who leads Georgetown University’s Center for Children and Families. “There’s a lot to worry about.”

The new law is projected to increase the number of people who are uninsured .

The lessons of the unwinding suggest that “deep trouble” lies ahead for Native Americans who rely on Medicaid, according to Alker.

Changes to Medicaid

Trump’s new law changes Medicaid rules to require some recipients ages 19 to 64 to log 80 hours of work or other qualifying activities per month. It also requires states to recheck those recipients’ eligibility every six months, instead of annually. Both of these changes will be effective by the .

The Congressional Budget Office that the law would reduce federal Medicaid spending by more than $900 billion over a decade. In addition, more than 4 million people enrolled in health plans through the Affordable Care Act marketplace are projected to become uninsured if Congress allows pandemic-era enhanced premium tax credits to expire at the end of the year.

Wieder said she was lucky that the tribe covered costs and her daughter’s care wasn’t interrupted in the six months she didn’t have health insurance. Citizens of federally recognized tribes in the U.S. can access some free health services through the Indian Health Service, the federal agency responsible for providing health care to Native Americans and Alaska Natives.

But free care is limited because Congress has historically failed to fully fund the Indian Health Service. Tribal health systems rely heavily on Medicaid to fill that gap. Native Americans are enrolled in Medicaid than the white population and have higher rates of chronic illnesses, die more from preventable diseases, and have less access to care.

Medicaid is to the Indian Health Service and other tribal health facilities and organizations. Accounting for about two-thirds of the outside revenue the Indian Health Service collects, it helps tribal health organizations pay their staff, maintain or expand services, and build infrastructure. Tribal leaders say protecting Medicaid for Indian Country is a responsibility Congress and the federal government must fulfill as part of their trust and treaty obligations to tribes.

Lessons Learned During the Unwinding

The Trump administration prevented states from disenrolling most Medicaid recipients for the duration of the public health emergency starting in 2020. After those eligibility checks resumed in 2023, nearly 27 million people nationwide were disenrolled from Medicaid during the unwinding, according to by the Government Accountability Office published in June. The majority of disenrollments — about 70% — occurred for procedural reasons, according to the federal Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.

CMS did not require state agencies to collect race and ethnicity data for their reporting during the unwinding, making it difficult to determine how many Native American and Alaska Native enrollees lost coverage.

The lack of data to show how the unwinding affected the population makes it difficult to identify disparities and create policies to address them, said Latoya Hill, senior policy manager with KFF’s Racial Equity and Health Policy program. KFF is a health information nonprofit that includes ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø News.

The National Council of Urban Indian Health, which advocates on public health issues for Native Americans living in urban parts of the nation, analyzed the Census Bureau’s 2022 American Community Survey and KFF data in an effort to understand how disenrollment affected tribes. The council estimated had lost coverage as of May 2024. About 2.7 million Native Americans and Alaska Natives were enrolled in Medicaid in 2022, according to the council.

The National Indian Health Board, a nonprofit that represents and advocates for federally recognized tribes, has been working with federal Medicaid officials to ensure that state agencies are prepared to implement the exemptions.

“We learned a lot of lessons about state capacity during the unwinding,” said Winn Davis, congressional relations director for the National Indian Health Board.

Nevada health officials say they plan to apply lessons learned during the unwinding and launch a public education campaign on the Medicaid changes in the new federal law. “A lot of this will depend on anticipated federal guidance regarding the implementation of those new rules,” said Stacie Weeks, director of the Nevada Health Authority.

Staff at the Fallon Tribal Health Center in Nevada have become authorized representatives for some of their patients. This means that tribal citizens’ Medicaid paperwork is sent to the health center, allowing staff to notify individuals and help them fill it out.

Davis said the unwinding process showed that Native American enrollees are uniquely vulnerable to procedural disenrollment. The new law’s exemption of Native Americans from work requirements and more frequent eligibility checks is the “bare minimum” to ensure unnecessary disenrollments are avoided as part of trust and treaty obligations, Davis said.

Eligibility Checks Are ‘Complex’ and ‘Vulnerable to Error’

The GAO said the process of determining whether individuals are eligible for Medicaid is “complex” and “vulnerable to error” in a .

“The resumption of Medicaid eligibility redeterminations on such a large scale further compounded this complexity,” the report said.

It highlighted weaknesses across state systems. By April 2024, federal Medicaid officials had found nearly all states were out of compliance with redetermination requirements, according to the GAO. Eligible people lost their coverage, the accountability office said, highlighting the need to improve federal oversight.

In Texas, for example, federal Medicaid officials found that 100,000 eligible people had been disenrolled due to, for example, the state system’s failure to process their completed renewal forms or miscalculation of the length of women’s postpartum coverage.

Some states were not conducting ex parte renewals, in which a person’s Medicaid coverage is automatically renewed based on existing information available to the state. That reduces the chance that paperwork is sent to the wrong address, because the recipient doesn’t need to complete or return renewal forms.

But poorly conducted ex parte renewals can lead to procedural disenrollments, too. in Nevada were disenrolled by September 2023 through the ex parte process. The state had been conducting the ex parte renewals at the household level, rather than by individual beneficiary, resulting in the disenrollment of still-eligible children because their parents were no longer eligible. in the state were for procedural reasons — the highest in the nation, according to KFF.

Another issue the federal agency identified was that some state agencies were not giving enrollees the opportunity to submit their renewal paperwork through all means available, including mail, phone, online, and in person.

State agencies also identified challenges they faced during the unwinding, including an unprecedented volume of eligibility redeterminations, insufficient staffing and training, and a lack of response from enrollees who may not have been aware of the unwinding.

Native Americans and Alaska Natives have unique challenges in maintaining their coverage.

Communities in rural parts of the nation experience issues with receiving and sending mail. Some Native Americans on reservations . Others may not have permanent housing or change addresses frequently. In Alaska, mail service is often disrupted by severe weather. Another issue is the lack of reliable internet service on remote reservations.

Tribal health leaders and patient benefit coordinators said some tribal citizens did not receive their redetermination paperwork or struggled to fill it out and send it back to their state Medicaid agency.

The Aftermath

Although the unwinding is over, many challenges persist.

Tribal health workers in Montana, Oklahoma, and South Dakota said some eligible patients who lost Medicaid during the unwinding had still not been reenrolled as of this spring.

“Even today, we’re still in the trenches of getting individuals that had been disenrolled back onto Medicaid,” said Rachel Arthur, executive director of the Indian Family Health Clinic in Great Falls, Montana, in May.

Arthur said staff at the clinic realized early in the unwinding that their patients were not receiving their redetermination notices in the mail. The clinic is identifying people who fell off Medicaid during the unwinding and helping them fill out applications.

Marlena Farnes, who was a patient benefit coordinator at the Indian Family Health Clinic during the Medicaid unwinding, said she tried for months to help an older patient with a chronic health condition get back on Medicaid. He had completed and returned his paperwork but still received a notice that his coverage had lapsed. After many calls to the state Medicaid office, Farnes said, state officials told her the patient’s application had been lost.

Another patient went to the emergency room multiple times while uninsured, Arthur said.

“I felt like if our patients weren’t helped with follow-up, and that advocacy piece, their applications were not being seen,” Farnes said. She is now the behavioral health director at the clinic.

Montana was one of five states where more than 50% of enrollees lost coverage during the unwinding, . The other states are Idaho, Oklahoma, Texas, and Utah. who lost coverage were disenrolled for procedural reasons.

In Oklahoma, eligibility redeterminations remain challenging to process, said Yvonne Myers, a Medicaid and Affordable Care Act consultant for Citizen Potawatomi Nation Health Services. That’s causing more frequent coverage lapses, she said.

Myers said she thinks Republican claims of “waste, fraud, and abuse” are overstated.

“I challenge some of them to try to go through an eligibility process,” Myers said. “The way they’re going about it is making it for more hoops to jump through, which ultimately will cause people to fall off.”

The unwinding showed that state systems can struggle to respond quickly to changes in Medicaid, leading to preventable erroneous disenrollments. Individuals were often in the dark about their applications and struggled to reach state offices for answers. Tribal leaders and health experts are raising concerns that those issues will continue and worsen as states implement the requirements of the new law.

Georgia, the only state with an active Medicaid work requirement program, has shown that the changes can be difficult for individuals to navigate and costly for a state to implement. More than 100,000 people have applied for Georgia’s Pathways program, but only as of the end of July.

Alker, of Georgetown, said Congress took the wrong lesson from the unwinding in adding more restrictions and red tape.

“It will make unwinding pale in comparison in terms of the number of folks that are going to lose coverage,” Alker said.

This article was published with the support of the Journalism & Women Symposium (JAWS) Health Journalism Fellowship, assisted by grants from The Commonwealth Fund.

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