BAKERSFIELD, Calif. — Dr. Olga Meave didn’t mind the dry, 105-degree heat that scorched this Central Valley city on a recent afternoon.
The sweltering summer days remind her of home in Sonora, Mexico. So do the people of the Valley — especially the Latino first-generation immigrants present here in large numbers, toiling in the fields or piloting big rigs laden with fruits and vegetables.
Meave’s sense of familiarity with the region and its residents drew her to an ambitious program in Bakersfield whose goal is to train and retain doctors in medically underserved areas.
She is now in her third and final year of the Rio Bravo Family Medicine Residency Program, operated by Clinica Sierra Vista, a chain of more than 30 clinics, mostly in the Central Valley. Meave,34, graduated from medical school in Mexico and has pursued additional education and training in the U.S.
She plans to practice in Bakersfield after she completes her residency next year.
“The goal is for [doctors in training] to come for three years and stay for 20,” said Carol Stewart, director of the program.
Rio Bravo is one of eight teaching health centers in California and 57 nationwide that were created by the Affordable Care Act in 2010 to serve areas with large unmet medical needs.
This academic year, there are 732 residents in teaching health centers across 24 states.
Unlike the Affordable Care Act itself, these teaching centers enjoy bipartisan support among federal lawmakers, who say such hubs will alleviate the primary care doctor shortage. But long-term funding is still in question. Last week, Congress agreed to temporarily finance the teaching health centers through the end of the year while debating whether to extend funding beyond that. President Donald Trump later signed the temporary extension.
A residency is a stage of graduate medical training that’s required after medical school and before doctors can set up their own practices. Most family practice residencies last three years.
Traditional residency programs are generally based at large, urban hospitals in areas where there are typically a sufficient number of doctors to go around.
The first teaching health centers began training residents in 2011. They operate primarily out of clinics in rural communities and other areas where primary care physicians are in short supply.
The ideal ratio of primary care physicians to patients is about 1 for every 2,000, Stewart said. The ratio in east Bakersfield “is more like 1 to 6,000, so we have a lot of catching up to do.”
Though teaching health centers remain relatively new, experts say they’re already succeeding: Their residents generally stay in the regions where they trained, putting down roots in communities with a big demand for health care.
In June, the Rio Bravo program graduated its first class of six doctors. Two joined the staff at a Clinica Sierra Vista clinic in east Bakersfield. The other four are practicing in clinics serving low-income communities in Sacramento, Riverside and Los Angeles counties.
Dr. Olga Meave is a third-year resident in the Rio Bravo Family Medicine Residency Program, operated by Clinica Sierra Vista in Bakersfield, Calif. The program operates primarily out of clinics in rural or underserved communities where primary care physicians are in desperately short supply. (Heidi de Marco/KHN)
Stewart estimates that the six recent graduates together saw nearly 10,000 patients during their three years of training.
“That’s a significant contribution,” she said.
Though not all teaching health centers have affiliations with medical schools,
the Rio Bravo program has an academic partnership with the UCLA medical school, which helps develop its curriculum, Stewart said. It also coordinates with a local hospital, Kern Medical, where residents complete rotations in different specialties related to family medicine.
A 2015 survey by the American Association of Teaching Health Centers found that 82 percent of their graduates stay in primary care and 55 percent remain in underserved communities. By contrast, about a quarter of graduates from traditional residency programs remain in primary care and work in underserved areas, according to the same survey.
Many graduates of teaching health centers have an incentive to stay in these areas because they may qualify for other programs that offer perks, such as help with paying off medical school loans.
The centers take their patient populations into consideration when selecting applicants. For instance, Rio Bravo aims to train culturally sensitive doctors, given the large local immigrant population, Stewart said.
It looks for applicants with ties to the Valley or who come from the cultures — and speak the languages — that are familiar to patients they will serve.
Meave doesn’t have a personal connection to the Valley, but she worked with low-income patients in Mexico. She has found that the population in the Valley, and its needs, aren’t much different from those in her home country.
At Clinica Sierra Vista, she sees patients who haven’t been to a doctor in decades. “They’ve never had a physical exam, never had their eyes checked. … They just deal with their aches and pains,” she said. “I think they feel happy that I can understand them and excited that someone from the same background is providing them care.”
Teaching health centers are financed by federal grants administered by the Health Resources & Services Administration, part of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. Congress determines the amount and duration of the funding. The current allocation, an extension of the two-year funding that expired Sept. 30, runs through the end of the year.
The Rio Bravo Family Medicine Residency Program is operated by Clinica Sierra Vista, a chain of more than 30 clinics mostly located in the Central Valley. (Heidi de Marco/KHN)
In July, U.S. Rep. Cathy McMorris Rodgers (R-Wash.) introduced legislation that would fund the program for an additional three years at about $157,000 a year per student — a total of $116.5 million annually.
The amount proposed would be a 65 percent increase from the current funding of $95,000 a year per resident.
Lawmakers are likely to begin debating the funding measure this week, and it is still subject to change.
“I’m glad we moved forward with a short-term extension of the … program, but we also must advance a long-term solution to provide certainty for our teaching health centers, their residents, and their patients,” McMorris Rodgers said in a prepared statement. “Without a sustainable funding level … the program will unravel.”
Should that happen, California’s teaching health centers could draw from a pot of money administered by the Office of Statewide Health Planning and Development to pay for the remainder of the current residents’ training.
Programs in other states may not have the same safety net.
“If [federal funding] went away, our residency program would have to close,” said Dr. Darrick Nelson, director of the teaching health center at Hidalgo Medical Services in Lordsburg, N.M.
Lordsburg, with a population of roughly 2,500, is a “small railroad town,” Nelson said, and like many rural towns desperately needs versatile primary care doctors.
“What you’re getting is three doctors for the price of one,” he said. “You get someone who can do pediatrics, someone who can do obstetrical care and someone who can do internal medicine.”
In California’s Central Valley, there is no medical school, and new doctors often avoid the area in favor of richer urban centers, where they can make more money.
Earlier this year, lawmakers earmarked $465 million from the state’s new tobacco tax to boost payments for some Medi-Cal providers, which could help make poor areas like the Central Valley more attractive to doctors.
At Clinica Sierra Vista’s location in east Bakersfield, where Meave’s residency is based, 75 percent of patients are covered by Medi-Cal — the state’s version of the federal Medicaid program for low-income residents — and 15 percent are uninsured, Stewart said. Asthma, diabetes and other chronic conditions are major health problems.
Veronica Ayon, a former farmworker, is one of Meave’s patients. Like her doctor, she is a native of Sonora.
Ayon, 48, was treated for cervical cancer in 2010 and last year underwent surgery to remove a malignant brain tumor. She feels comfortable with Meave because of their similar backgrounds and language, she said.
“She is very special to me,” Ayon said, speaking in Spanish inside her home in the town of Shafter, about 20 miles north of Bakersfield. “She explains things at a level I can understand.”
Drug companies will be required to give health insurers and state agencies advance notice if they plan to raise the price of certain drugs by 16 percent or more over two years.
California Gov. Jerry Brown defied the drug industry Monday by signing a sweeping drug price transparency bill that will force drugmakers to publicly justify big price hikes.
“Californians have a right to know why their medical costs are out of control, especially when pharmaceutical profits are soaring,” Brown said. “This measure is a step at bringing transparency, truth, exposure to a very important part of our lives. That is the cost of prescription drugs.”
The new law will require drug companies to give 60 days’ notice to state agencies and health insurers anytime they plan to raise the price of a drug by 16 percent or more over two years on drugs with a wholesale cost of $40 or higher. They must also explain why the increases are necessary.
The advance notification provisions take effect Jan. 1, while the other reporting requirements don't kick in until 2019.
Brown said the bill is part of a larger effort to correct growing income inequality in the United States.
He called on top pharmaceutical leaders to consider doing business in a way that helps Americans who are spending large sums of money for lifesaving medications.
“The rich are getting richer. The powerful are getting more powerful,” he said. “We’ve got to point to the evils, and there’s a real evil when so many people are suffering so much from rising drug profits.”
The drug lobby fiercely opposed the bill, SB 17, spending $16.8 million on lobbying from January 2015 through the first half of this year to kill an array of drug legislation in California, according to data from the secretary of state’s office. For the pricing bill alone, the industry hired 45 lobbyists or firms to fight it.
The bill drew support from a diverse coalition, including labor and consumer groups, the hospital industry and even health insurers, who agreed to share some of their own data. Under the new law, they will have to report what percentage of premium increases is related to drug prices.
“Health coverage premiums directly reflect the cost of providing medical care, and prescription drug prices have become one of the main factors driving up these costs,” said Charles Bacchi, CEO of the California Association of Health Plans. “SB 17 will help us understand why, so we can prepare for and address the unrelenting price increases.”
Drug companies criticized the governor’s move, saying the new law focuses too narrowly on one part of the drug distribution chain — and ultimately won’t help consumers afford their medicine.
“There is no evidence that SB 17 will lower drug costs for patients because it does not shed light on the large rebates and discounts insurance companies and pharmacy benefit managers are receiving that are not always being passed on to patients,” said Priscilla VanderVeer, spokeswoman for the Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America.
Indeed, some experts have said transparency alone is not enough to bring down drug prices, and that California’s law may lack the muscle being applied in other states to directly hold drug prices down.
This year, at least two states have passed laws that may have a more immediate effect on consumer costs than the California measure. Maryland and New York, for example, adopted bills that use a variety of legal levers to impose financial penalties or require discounts if prices are too high.
But other policy experts argue that California’s law is part of a broader campaign to adopt stronger drug price measures across the country. So it makes sense to start with the source of the drug prices: the drugmakers themselves, said Gerard Anderson, a health policy professor at Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health who tracks drug legislation in the states.
“The manufacturers get most of the money — probably about three-quarters or more of the money that you pay for a drug, and they’re the ones that set the price initially,” he said. “So they are not the only piece of the drug supply chain, but they are the key piece to this.”
California Healthline Sacramento correspondent Pauline Bartolone contributed to this report.
This story is part of a partnership that includes KQED, NPR and Kaiser Health News.
The bill would require drug companies to give 60 days’ notice to state agencies and health insurers anytime they plan to raise the price of a drug by 16 percent or more over two years.
Insurers, hospitals and health advocates are waiting for Gov. Jerry Brown to deal the drug lobby a rare defeat, by signing legislation that would force pharmaceutical companies to justify big price hikes on drugs in California.
"If it gets signed by this governor, it's going to send shock waves throughout the country," said state Sen. Ed Hernandez, a Democrat from West Covina, the bill's author and an optometrist. "A lot of other states have the same concerns we have, and you're going to see other states try to emulate what we did."
The bill would require drug companies to give California 60 days' notice to state agencies and health insurers anytime they plan to raise the price of a drug by 16 percent or more over two years. They would also have to explain why the increases are necessary. In addition, health insurers would have to report what percentage of premium increases are caused by drug spending.
Drugmakers spent $16.8 million on lobbying from January 2015 through the first half of this year to kill an array of drug legislation in California, according to data from the secretary of state's office. For the pricing bill alone, the industry has hired 45 lobbyists or firms to fight it. Against the backdrop of this opposition campaign, Brown must decide by Oct. 15 whether to sign or veto the bill.
"When they have to justify in California, de facto, they have to justify it to the other 49 states," said Gerard Anderson, a health policy professor at Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health in Baltimore. "Other states essentially get to piggyback on the good efforts of California, and hopefully, because they might have difficulty justifying the price increases, everybody's prices around the country will be lower."
Other states, including Maryland, Vermont, Nevada and New York, have passed similar laws aimed at bringing more transparency to prices and curbing price gouging. But the pharmaceutical industry has fought the hardest in California. If drug companies don't like the disclosure laws in smaller states, they could decide not to sell their drugs there, Anderson said, but the market in California is just too big to ignore.
"States like Maryland are just not as powerful," he said. "It just doesn't have the clout that a state like California has."
(Story continues on the next page.)
This is the second go-round for such a drug price bill. Last summer, similar legislation crashed and burned. Its intended regulations were gutted so extensively that Hernandez decided to pull it. But, he said, two key things happened after that, setting the stage for a successful second attempt.
First, in August 2016, less than a week after Hernandez pulled the bill, controversy erupted nationally over the price of EpiPens, which spiked nearly 500 percent. The increase sparked outrage from parents who carry the auto-injectors to save their children from life-threatening allergic reactions.
Momentum grew among federal lawmakers last September. They called for hearings. Several bills were proposed across the country aimed to rein in drug prices.
Then came the election of November 2016. After Donald Trump became president and Republicans took control of Congress, the No. 1 health policy priority became repealing and replacing the Affordable Care Act, President Barack Obama’s signature legislation.
As federal lawmakers focused on dismantling the ACA, Hernandez said he saw another opportunity for state lawmakers to act on drug prices. He reintroduced his bill in early 2017, and this time political support grew quickly — beyond the usual suspects.
"It wasn't just labor," he recalls. "It was consumer groups, it was health plans. It was the Chambers of Commerce, it was the hospital association."
The Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, or PhRMA, a drug industry's trade group, argued that the bill known as SB 17 was full of "false promises" that wouldn't help consumers pay for their medicines and would instead stifle innovation with cumbersome regulatory compliance.
"That takes up a lot of resources and will take up a lot of time," said Priscilla VanderVeer, deputy vice president of public affairs for PhRMA. "And that could mean pulling resources from research and development and having to put it into the reporting structure."
Hernandez is optimistic the governor will sign SB 17 into law. But he knows nothing's certain. That's because of what happened on Sept. 11, the day the bill came up for a key vote in the state Assembly — the same place it went down the year before. Hernandez thought he'd secured all the votes he needed, but at the last minute the votes started slipping away.
The bill needed 41 votes to pass the Assembly. During the roll call, the tally stalled around 35. Hernandez said he had plenty of colleagues willing to cast the 42nd vote, but with drug lobbyists swarming the Capitol, no legislators wanted to be the one to cast the deciding vote.
"If the bill fails and you're stuck out there, then you're the person that's attacking the industry," Hernandez said.
Still, the bill crossed the 41-vote threshold and the remaining lawmakers joined in. In the end, the bill passed with 66 votes. All the Democrats and half of the Republicans in the state Assembly voted for it.
This was much to the dismay of drug companies, which lobbied hard and issued a blitz of advertising in the last weeks before the vote.
Experts said the drug industry doesn't want a large influential state like California forcing them to share their data.
Drugmakers are likely already devising ways to work around the California bill, warned Anderson, the Johns Hopkins professor. They've filed lawsuits to try to slow or stop laws from being implemented in other states, or to weaken the rules if and when they go into effect. Policy experts are watching to see what kinds of legal challenges the California law might be vulnerable to, and if it can withstand them.
"We learn from the mistakes of other states," Anderson said. "Legislation is an iterative process. We have 50 states and hopefully, by some time, we'll get it right. We're looking for California to take the lead on this."
Despite the expanding population of Clark County, which more than doubled to 2.2 million in the past 25 years, University Medical Center has been Las Vegas’ only Level I trauma center since 1992.
Las Vegas is not only a glittering strip of casinos and hotels but a fast-growing region with more than 2 million residents — and one hospital designated as a highest-level trauma center.
The deadly shooting Sunday that killed at least 59 and sent more than 500 people to area hospitals raised questions about whether that’s enough.
Las Vegas is not the only big city with just one such trauma center. Seattle and Nashville, among others, also are in this category, according to the American Trauma Society, a professional and advocacy organization focused on improving trauma care.
Casey Nolan, a hospital consultant and managing director of Navigant Consulting in Washington, D.C., said what matters most is not the number of high-level centers, but the degrees of coordination across the area’s medical network, including the first responders.
“It’s how well integrated the care is and whether there is a triage system to get patients to the right place in the right time,” he said.
What Makes Up The Network
The highest-level trauma centers are equipped and staffed around-the-clock to provide care for patients who suffer from traumatic injuries such as gunshot wounds, falls and car accidents.
The designation “trauma center” is the result of a validation process at the state or local level. Centers are categorized by Level I, II or III, for instance, in keeping with nationally accepted standards. Centers can also seek additional approval from the American College of Surgeons.
Across the country, there are 217 Level I trauma centers, up from 198 in 2012, according to the trauma society. These centers must see at least 1,200 trauma patients a year and have general surgeons and other specialists immediately available at the facility.
There are another 310 Level II centers that face similar staffing rules, but with fewer education and training requirements. Level III centers have emergency medical staff, but will stabilize severely injured patients and often transport them to higher-level trauma centers.
For decades, the hospital industry viewed trauma care as a money-losing proposition because of the high costs of keeping doctors and nurses on standby 24 hours a day. Trauma centers, particularly those in inner cities, tended to attract more patients without health insurance.
But in recent years, hospitals have been competing to get the designation as a way to increase profits, in part because trauma centers enhance demand for surgery and ancillary services like CT scans. In addition, a trauma designation can boost a facility’s overall reputation, Nolan added.
“Trauma had gotten a bad rap,” explained Nolan. “But in suburban locations, where more people have insurance, you can do pretty well on trauma.”
Some hospitals also began charging a fee — known as a “trauma activation” fee — to help pay for the extra staffing and equipment trauma units require.
Those fees could range from a few hundred dollars to several thousand dollars on patients’ bills, Nolan said.
Trauma Care In Las Vegas
Despite the burgeoning population of Las Vegas and surrounding Clark County, which more than doubled to 2.2 million in the past 25 years, University Medical Center has been Las Vegas’ only Level I trauma center since 1992.
The metro area includes two other lower-level trauma centers. Sunrise Hospital & Medical Center in Las Vegas is a Level II facility and St. Rose Dominican Hospital in nearby Henderson, Nev., is a Level III.
Even the idea of expanding Las Vegas’ trauma network has stirred controversy.
Last year, a state agency rejected applications by three hospitals in the Las Vegas area to be designated as Level III trauma centers.
HCA, the national, for-profit chain that owned two of these facilities, said adding trauma centers would help ensure quicker care to patients in the growing region. The company has made adding trauma centers a strategy across the country and has met resistance from existing centers.
But opponents argued HCA was motivated by the opportunity to boost profits. The Tampa Bay Times reported last year that the hospital chain charged significantly higher “activation fees” than other hospitals.
Opponents also countered that adding trauma centers would affect University Medical Center’s ability to provide quality care and train doctors. Some experts say it could diminish the number of patients seen at each center.
That’s because the more trauma patients a center deals with annually, the better the results, studies show.
“If you can bring all the patients to one place, then those surgeons become really good at dealing with trauma, instead of spreading it out [around a number of facilities],” said Bill Bullard, senior vice president with the Abaris Group, a California-based consulting firm that advises hospitals on emergency care.
Ian Weston, executive director of the American Trauma Society, said the trauma system worked well in Las Vegas, which is a credit to ambulances and other first responders and their ability to triage patients to hospitals across the city.
Seriously ill patients have the best outcomes when treated at a Level I trauma center, said David Callaway, a professor of emergency medicine at the Carolinas Medical Center in Charlotte, N.C. But “when you have 500-plus casualties and 58 dead … if all the patients went to a Level I, mortality would not be improved, because they would be completely overwhelmed,” Callaway added.
Bullard agreed.
“In theory, the more centers you have the more people you have to deal with injuries. However, no trauma system is able to handle a tragedy of this magnitude.”
Proponents of direct primary care say it can provide a safety net for those with limited treatment options and is particularly helpful in states that have not expanded Medicaid access.
Darrell Kenyon (right), an uninsured carpenter, pays a monthly fee to receive basic office-based medical care from Dr. Loy Graham under a practice model called direct primary care. (Charlotte Huff for KHN)
JARRELL, Texas — Darrell Kenyon had been punting for years on various medical issues — fatigue, headaches, mood swings. The 43-year-old uninsured carpenter was particularly worried about his blood pressure, which ran high when he checked it at the grocery store. Then he heard about a different type of physician practice, one that provided regular primary care for a monthly fee.
“Insurance for the self-employed is through the roof,” Kenyon told Dr. Loy Graham, as she examined him one morning in August. Two years ago, Graham had hung out her shingle in this central Texas town of nearly 1,400, about 40 miles north of Austin.
Under the practice model, called direct primary care, patients are charged monthly — typically $20 to $75, depending on age, in Graham’s practice — for basic, office-based medical care and frequently cell phone and other after-hours physician access. Proponents of the model, which is also supported as a practice option by the American Academy of Family Physicians, say it can provide a safety net for those with limited treatment options, including the uninsured and people in the country illegally. The alternative is particularly helpful in states like Texas that haven’t expanded Medicaid access, the advocates add.
But there’s a sizable catch: Direct primary care is not insurance.
Carolyn Engelhard worries that strapped individuals will decide the easier access to primary care is “good enough” and won’t investigate insurance options. “It can be a false security,” said Engelhard, who directs the health policy program at the University of Virginia School of Medicine in Charlottesville. “There’s sort of the illusion that it’s kind of like insurance.”
Lower-income Texans would be better off with coverage on the Affordable Care Act’s insurance exchange, where they could get a subsidy to reduce the cost of their premiums, Engelhard said. The policy would have a deductible, “which they might feel that they can’t afford,” she said. “But they would be protected if they got cancer or if they had an automobile accident.”
Graham estimates that at least three-quarters of her roughly 450 patients lack insurance, even though she advises them to carry some kind of catastrophic coverage for major health expenses. But the cost for such policies can be daunting. Like Kenyon, some of Graham’s patients are self-employed with fluctuating incomes or work for businesses that don’t offer coverage. Even if their employer offers affordable coverage for the employee, premiums for dependents might make coverage financially out of reach. Roughly 1 in 5 of her patients speak primarily Spanish. Some are undocumented, working in construction and other labor-intensive jobs in the region.
Despite her concerns, Engelhard said, such flat-fee practices might offer “one of the few viable options” for those living here under the radar, given they’re not eligible for ACA-related coverage. “So they are completely dependent on paying out-of-pocket for medical care,” she said.
‘Better Than Nothing’?
Nationally, direct primary care is relatively new and very much a niche option. Nearly 3 percent of family physicians practice it, according to a 2017 survey by the American Academy of Family Physicians. Some critics have questioned whether the model’s growth is already stalling, after one of its earliest providers, Seattle-based Qliance, closed its clinics this year.
Graham, who practiced traditional medicine in Central Texas for decades, said she was drawn to the option after growing weary of packing too many patients into each day. She was considering leaving medicine and had started developing a lavender farm as an alternative source of income when she heard about direct primary care.
In 2015, she opened her practice in a small strip mall in Jarrell, figuring that nearby residents — with limited access to primary care — might take a chance on the different style of medicine.
Dr. John Bender, an academy board member who is part of a larger practice that’s transitioning to direct primary care, said that the low monthly fees are attracting patients who view insurance as out of reach. “I think something [in terms of medical care] is better than nothing,” said the Fort Collins, Colo., family physician, who estimates that roughly half of the practice’s 800-plus direct primary care patients are uninsured.
“I can spare them quite a few urgent care and emergency room bills,” Bender said, noting that his office handles anything from strep throat to stitches for minor gashes. Moreover, the cost is within reach of people on tight budgets, he said. “In fact, a carton of cigarettes runs $49, which just happens to be the price of my monthly subscription fee [for adults].”
In Texas, 16.6 percent of the state’s residents were uninsured as of 2016, the highest rate nationally, according to the most recent Census Bureau data. The Lone Star State didn’t expand Medicaid access and has one of the nation’s lowest income-eligibility cutoffs. A single mother with two children can’t earn more than $3,781 annually to qualify for coverage herself, according to a 2017 Medicaid report by the Center for Public Policy Priorities, an Austin-based nonprofit research and advocacy organization.
Dr. Felicia Macik, who launched her direct care practice in 2014 in Waco, estimates that 10 to 15 percent of her patients are uninsured, including some who drop coverage because they can’t afford the premiums. “I’m frightened for them,” she said. “It could decimate a family if something happened and they didn’t have any coverage.”
But Macik pointed out that getting regular primary care, rather than avoiding the doctor entirely due to lack of insurance, might avert costlier complications like an asthma attack or a diabetic crisis.
Uninsured individuals who sign up for these practices are rolling the dice, said Dr. Mohan Nadkarni, an internist who co-founded the Charlottesville (Va.) Free Clinic, which treats lower-income individuals. “For routine regular care, it may work out,” he said. “But it’s gambling that you’re not going to get sicker and need further care.”
Two years ago, Dr. Loy Graham opened a flat-fee primary care practice in Jarrell, Texas. She estimates that at least 3 in 4 of her patients lack health insurance. (Charlotte Huff for KHN)
For instance, a patient can develop severe heartburn and require further tests and referrals to specialists to look for the underlying cause — potentially anything from an ulcer to esophageal cancer — that could quickly run up a hefty bill, Nadkarni said. Another patient with chest pain might need a similarly costly work-up to rule out heart problems, including a potentially life-threatening blockage, he said.
Graham said that her monthly fees cover anything that she can handle in the office. During Kenyon’s visit, she froze a small growth off one ear. Shortly afterward, she gave a steroid injection to an older woman with a painful, swollen wrist.
She has negotiated low fees with a local laboratory; the battery of blood tests and urinalysis she ordered for Kenyon cost him just under $40. “This is concierge medicine for normal people,” said the 61-year-old family physician.
Physician enthusiasts maintain that jettisoning the paperwork and other overhead costs associated with insurance enables them to take on fewer patients — roughly 600 to 800 for direct care practices compared with 2,000 to 2,500 typically, according to the family physicians academy — and thus spend more time with each one.
As A Safety Net, It’s A Stretch
Erika Miller first came to see Graham two years ago for severe headaches. The 30-year-old mother of three, who is working on her college degree and has a full-time job, doesn’t have insurance.
Graham diagnosed high blood pressure. Getting that under control helped alleviate her headaches, Miller said. She also has shed 50 pounds under Graham’s guidance.
But Graham can’t handle everything for her patients. Last year, Miller went to the emergency room at Scott & White Medical Center in nearby Temple with severe abdominal pain. It was her appendix, which had to be removed. The safety-net hospital started Miller on a payment plan based on her income, totaling roughly $500.
“If the question is: `Is [direct primary care] better than nothing?’ Then I would say, ‘Yes,’” Engelhard said. But along with leaving uninsured patients financially vulnerable to a medical curveball, she said, these smaller practices — by seeing fewer patients per doctor — risk aggravating the nation’s primary care shortage if they become more common.
Graham countered that she nearly left medicine, but these days — as she continues to build her practice — she’s reaching some patients who had previously fallen through the health system’s cracks. On that summer morning, Kenyon left Graham’s office with a prescription for a blood pressure medication and an appointment to return in several weeks to discuss his lab results.
Kenyon and his wife, Denise, later described how they had signed up last year for a family policy through the Affordable Care Act. But the monthly premium was $750 and the deductibles were $3,500 per person, Denise Kenyon said.
She called around and couldn’t find a family doctor who would take the coverage. After several months, they stopped paying the premiums, figuring that the money they saved would pay for a lot of medical care.
Both are now patients of Graham’s; their combined monthly bill totals $125, which they can budget for, Darrell Kenyon said. “I do have good months and bad months, as far as pay is concerned,” he said. “If I have a bad month, it’s still affordable.”
Health and Human Services Secretary Tom Price resigned Friday. The White House said President Donald Trump intends to designate Don Wright of Virginia to serve as acting secretary, effective at midnight Friday.
Health and Human Services Secretary Tom Price resigned Friday, amid controversy over his use of private jets for official and personal business. He promised a day earlier to pay back some of the $400,000 spent on those flights, but the offer came too late for the Trump White House.
In a statement released Friday afternoon, the White House said President Donald Trump intends to designate Don Wright of Virginia to serve as acting secretary, effective at midnight Friday. Wright serves as the deputy assistant secretary for health at HHS and he directs the Office of Disease Prevention and Health Promotion.
Price's four-paragraph resignation letter stated, in part: "I have spent forty years both as a doctor and public servant putting people first. I regret that the recent events have created a distraction from these important objectives."
Price, an orthopedic surgeon and former House Budget Committee chairman, was surrounded by controversy since his nomination to the nation’s top health post in January. He made questionable stock trades in health care companies while a member of the tax-writing House Ways and Means Committee and interceded on behalf of donors with federal agencies. Democrats in the Senate fought his confirmation, charging that he was too ethically challenged to serve as HHS secretary.
This summer, Price was increasingly viewed by President Donald Trump as ineffective in helping to push a GOP plan to “repeal and replace” the Affordable Care Act through Congress.
Price had been under pressure since Sept. 19, when Politico broke the news that he had taken numerous official trips via private jet, costing tens of thousands of dollars more than commercial flights.
One of those trips involved a charter flight to Philadelphia, which can be reached by car from Washington in just over two hours. Subsequent reporting by Politico revealed that Price’s more than two dozen private plane trips cost in excess of $400,000, and that some of the trips included personal as well as official business.
He also traveled with his wife to such international destinations as Africa, Europe and Asia on military flights at a cost to taxpayers of more than $500,000 — bringing the total expense to taxpayers since May to more than a million dollars, according to Politico.
Price said last weekend he would stop using private planes pending an investigation by the HHS Inspector General, but he and his staff have repeatedly defended the trips as necessary to get him to events in a timely manner.
Pressed by reporters Wednesday about the spreading scandal, Trump said he was “not happy” about the private plane travel “and I let him know it.” Asked if he would fire Price, Trump responded, “We’ll see.”
On Thursday, Price released a statement saying he would “take no more private charter flights as Secretary of HHS. No exceptions.” Price, whose net worth has been estimated at $13.6 million, also said he would “write a personal check to the US Treasury for the expenses of my travel on private charter planes.” He added that taxpayers would not “pay a dime for my seat on those planes.”
His offer for the domestic flights — about $52,000 — was a fraction of what taxpayers paid for his entourage.
House Speaker Paul Ryan (R-Wis.) said Price was “a leader in the House and a superb health secretary. His vision and hard work were vital to the House’s success passing our health care legislation.”
Democrats had a different view.
In a statement, Sen. Ron Wyden (D-Ore.), the ranking member of the Senate Finance Committee, said Price has “repeatedly abused the public trust and betrayed the agency’s mission to improve Americans’ health care.” Wyden said he hopes this will mark “the beginning of a new chapter” for the Trump administration’s health care agenda and that Price’s replacement will “be focused on implementing the law as written by Congress.”
The new HHS secretary should keep “the president’s promise to bring down the high cost of prescription drugs,” Wyden said.
Wright, Price's interim replacement, has worked for the federal government since at least 2003. A physician, he served in high-level positions at HHS under the George W. Bush, Obama and Trump administrations, according to his LinkedIn profile. At HHS, Wright oversaw many public health duties including development of the national dietary guidelines for Americans and the department’s health literacy agenda. He has also spearheaded efforts to reduce adverse drug interactions.
Wright represented the United States at the World Health Organization’s executive board and served on the National Cancer Institute Advisory Board.
According to the profile, he held management positions in the Office of the Surgeon General, National Vaccine Program Office, Office of HIV/AIDS Programs, Office of Minority Health, Office of Population Affairs, Office of Women’s Health and President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports.
From 2003 to 2007, Wright was director of the Occupational Medicine at the Office of Safety and Health Administration.
Wright has a bachelor’s degree in zoology from Texas Tech University and holds a medical degree from the University of Texas-Galveston. He completed a residency in family medicine at Baylor University in Dallas and practiced for 17 years in Texas as a doctor. He also holds a master's in public health from the Medical College of Wisconsin in Milwaukee, according to his LinkedIn profile.
Leah Binder, president of the Leapfrog Group, a patient advocacy organization, said she was hopeful about Wright's new role.
"I am cautiously optimistic the appointment of Don Wright signals a resurgence of federal leadership on patient safety," she said in an email. "Don Wright led development of the influential National Action Plan on Healthcare Acquired Infections in 2013. ... His work galvanized infection prevention and led to significant improvements ... that saved many lives. He has also been influential in the movement to measure the problem and tie Medicare payments to hospital safety."
KHN correspondents Phil Galewitz and Mary Agnes Carey contributed to this report.
The Health and Human Services Office of Inspector General, in a report released Monday, found that nearly 73,000 people on Medicare had one of the seven devices replaced because of recalls, premature failures, medically necessary upgrades or infections.
Medicare paid at least $1.5 billion over a decade to replace seven types of defective heart devices, a government watchdog says. The devices apparently failed for thousands of senior patients.
The Health and Human Services Office of Inspector General, in a report released Monday, said officials need to do a better job tracking these costly product failures to protect patients from harm. More detailed reporting could lead to earlier recognition of serious problems with medical devices and faster recalls of all types of “poorly performing” ones, the IG’s office said.
The report marks the first effort by anyone in government to assess the losses to taxpayers and patients 65 and older from medical gear that proves faulty.
Officials said the $1.5 billion lost from the seven devices from 2005 through 2014 was a “conservative estimate.” Patients also paid $140 million in out-of-pocket costs for this care, the report noted.
The report found that nearly 73,000 people on Medicare had one of the seven devices replaced because of recalls, premature failures, medically necessary upgrades or infections. It didn’t outline specific injuries patients suffered as a result.
The inspector general did not identify the manufacturers of the seven devices, but officials said they included implanted cardio defibrillators and a pacemaker that either had been recalled because of flaws or had “prematurely failed.” Pacemakers and implantable defibrillators are small devices placed under the skin to help treat irregular heartbeats.
How best to identify these defects and cut Medicare spending associated with fixing them has been under consideration at various times since 2007, according to the report. But it remains a contentious issue.
The inspector general recommended that hospitals and doctors be required to submit detailed information identifying failed devices, such as serial and batch numbers, during the billing process.
“This could help reduce Medicare costs by identifying poorly performing devices more quickly which could also protect beneficiaries from unnecessary costs and improve their chances of receiving appropriate follow-up care more quickly,” the report states.
David Lamir, an official in the inspector general’s Boston office, said the $1.5 billion figure represented a “drop in the bucket” of the true costs to Medicare from medical products that malfunction. He said device failures not only waste money, but also can expose patients to a “high risk of illness,” including needless surgeries.
The report said medical device recalls nearly doubled from 2003 through 2012 and noted they have likely cost Medicare billions of dollars. In the past five to six years, more than 200 cardiac devices have been recalled, according to the OIG. In most cases, manufacturers withdraw their products voluntarily after reports surface of injuries or malfunctions. Device makers are required to report problems they learn of, often from doctors and hospitals, to a database run by the Food and Drug Administration.
Diana Zuckerman, president of the National Center for Health Research who has testified before Congress on device safety, said her organization supports making hospitals report malfunctioning devices when they seek Medicare payments to cover an implant surgery. She said the change would help officials pinpoint faulty devices before issuing a recall for tens of thousands of products buried in patients’ bodies.
“It would be much more obvious much more quickly which implanted devices were causing problems,” she said.
Zuckerman noted that the IG report didn’t touch on many high-profile device failures, like metal-on-metal hip implants or vaginal mesh.
Medical device companies and some doctors have opposed tighter reporting saying it would be costly and difficult to integrate with existing payment claim forms and might not yield useful information.
“It is abundantly clear that data collected in electronic health records (EHR) is a far superior and more cost-effective method for monitoring the performance of medical devices,” said Mark Leahey, who heads the Medical Device Manufacturers Association. The trade group represents nearly 300 device companies.
Leahey said that the electronic health record “captures the full clinical history of the patient, their changing health status and detailed information on their medical treatments,” including any surgically implanted devices.
A Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services spokesman said the agency had not seen the report and would have no comment.
But in written remarks included in the report, CMS Administrator Seema Verma said the tighter reporting requirement is “under consideration” and that the agency will “carefully evaluate the potential that this policy would impose a burden on physicians unnecessarily.”
CMS appears to have switched positions on whether to compel hospitals to report more details about these incidents during the Obama administration.
In a February 2015 letter to Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., then-CMS administrator Marilyn Tavenner argued that more reporting would “entail significant technological challenges, costs and risks to normal claims processing for Medicare.”
Yet CMS and FDA supported doing so in a July 13, 2016, letter to the committee that sets standards for electronic claim forms used for medical billing.
Andy Slavitt, who succeeded Tavenner in the top CMS post and signed the July 2016 letter, called the inspector general’s report “important work” that “appears to make yet another strong case” for more complete reporting of device failures.
These policies “are important for our safety and they are clearly prudent things to do. While it requires effort from many in health care to get there, this effort is in our public interest," Slavitt wrote in an email to Kaiser Health News.
Rita Redberg, a UC-San Francisco professor and cardiologist who advises Medicare, said unique identifiers on devices could be scanned into a patient’s medical record. Earlier recognition of trouble-prone devices also might help Medicare recoup some money wasted as a result.
“Medicare is spending a lot of money on something that doesn’t seem to be their problem,” Redberg said, adding, “Most places, if something is defective, the manufacturer is responsible for replacing it, not the store where you bought it.”
If the feared reductions come to fruition, states would likely respond by either lowering their payment rates or restricting whom they cover and for how long.
Nursing homes that rely the most on Medicaid tend to provide the worst care for their residents — not just the people covered by the program but also those who pay privately or have Medicare coverage.
Despite the collapse of the latest Senate effort to repeal the Affordable Care Act, congressional Republicans are still keen on shrinking the amount of Medicaid money Washington sends states.
Down the line, this would create problems for the nation’s 1.4 million nursing home residents, two-thirds of whom are covered by the state-federal health care program for low-income and disabled people.
Medicaid already pays less than other forms of insurance. As a result, nursing homes make more than 10 percent on Medicare residents, but lose about 2 percent on the rest of their residents because so many have care paid for by Medicaid.
If the feared reductions come to fruition, states would likely respond by either lowering their payment rates or restricting whom they cover and for how long. And the quality of care, experts say, would deteriorate further.
These four charts, based on a Kaiser Health News analysis of ratings from the federal government’s Nursing Home Compare website, show how care suffers in nursing homes where Medicaid is the dominant payer for residents.
The government rates nursing homes on a scale from one to five stars, based on overall quality. Factors weighed: how well each facility performs on government inspections, how many nurses and aides it employs, and how healthy its residents are as judged by such measures as how often they fall, get infections or are admitted to the hospital.
The chart below shows the big picture: Nursing homes with higher percentages of residents covered by Medicaid earn fewer stars on the federal government’s overall quality rating system. One-star homes (lowest quality) average 69 percent of residents on Medicaid; Five-star (highest quality) average 49 percent of residents on Medicaid.
A prime reason for the disparity, researchers have found, is that nursing homes with the most Medicaid residents can’t afford as many nurses and aides. Medicare assigns a second type of star rating representing staffing levels and based on the ratio of nurses to residents. As the chart below shows, the staffing differences are huge: The average five-star home has enough nurses and aides to provide 5.4 hours of care a day for each resident while the average one-star home provides 3.0 hours of daily care per resident. At the best-staffed homes (five stars), only 4 of 10 residents are on Medicaid, meaning the remainder of residents are more lucrative for those facilities. At the worst-staffed homes (one star), 7 of 10 residents are on Medicaid.
Low staffing is just one factor behind inferior quality ratings for homes that rely heavily on Medicaid, said Dr. David Gifford, senior vice president for quality and regulatory affairs at the American Health Care Association, a nursing home trade group. A home’s ability to buy medical equipment, medications and oxygen and to keep the building operating can also suffer.
The government publishes a third set of stars representing the results of health inspections. State inspectors give citations to homes that don’t protect residents from bed sores, accidents, infections and other types of harm. The third chart, below, shows how homes with more health violations usually also have more Medicaid beds. At nursing homes with worst inspection records (one star), an average 65 percent of residents are on Medicaid. Facilities with the best inspection records (five star) have an average 47 percent of residents on Medicaid.
“It’s very likely that if Medicaid payment rates freeze or decline, there would be adverse effects,” said Vincent Mor, a professor at the Brown University School of Public Health. “Nursing homes that can will get out of the Medicaid business if it’s at all possible. Those that can’t will try to keep their beds as full as possible and live with a negative margin and reduce food, reduce staff and try to struggle along.”
Mor said the Medicaid cuts might not even save the government money in the end. “When Medicaid nursing homes are poor and perform poorly, their hospitalization rate increases, and Medicare pays for those hospitalizations. If I’m a nursing home and I can barely afford my patients, I’m going to send my patients to the hospital.”
This final chart shows, by state, the percentage of nursing home residents who rely on Medicaid. In Alaska, 83 percent of nursing home residents are covered by Medicaid. Iowa is the only state where Medicaid does not cover a majority of nursing home residents.
"The anxiety level is increasing on almost a daily basis," says Dan Hawkins, senior vice president of the National Association of Community Health Centers.
One community health center in New York has frozen hiring. Another in Missouri can’t get a bank loan to expand.
The nation’s 1,400 community health centers are carefully watching expenses in case the financial rescue they hope Congress delivers this week doesn’t arrive. With four days left in the government’s fiscal year, Congress has not voted on reauthorizing billions of dollars now going to community health centers and other health programs for the 2018 budget year that starts Sunday.
“The anxiety level is increasing on almost a daily basis,” said Dan Hawkins, senior vice president of the National Association of Community Health Centers (NACHC) in Washington, D.C. “There is broad support and agreement in Congress that it should get done, but we are working against a ticking clock and a crowded legislative calendar.”
For the past two weeks, the GOP’s scramble to repeal the Affordable Care Act before the month ends pushed other health care matters off the congressional agenda. That effort ended Tuesday when Senate Republicans said they would not seek a vote this week because they lacked enough support to pass the bill.
It’s not clear if lawmakers’ lighter agenda will now leave room for funding health centers or deciding other issues, such as renewing the Children’s Health Insurance Program (CHIP), which also expires Saturday. At a hearing Monday, Senate Finance Committee Chairman Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) urged his colleagues to work with the Senate’s health committee to settle the matter. NACHC officials privately express optimism that a deal might come later in October if not by Sunday.
Community health centers operate in more than 9,500 locations, serving 27 million people, according to the NACHC. They are the main source of health care for many low-income Americans — and the only source of primary care in many underserved areas.
Health centers provide preventive care, counseling, dentistry and primary care to everyone, whether or not they can pay. A sliding fee scale based on income and family size is available to patients without insurance.
In 2015, nearly 1 in 6 Medicaid beneficiaries received health center services, the Kaiser Family Foundation reported this year. (Kaiser Health News is an editorially independent program of the foundation.)
“The end result is these are people who will be locked out of health care” without new funding, Hawkins said.
Community health centers gained billions of dollars in federal revenue under the ACA, which created a special trust fund to support them from 2011 through 2015. The Community Health Center Fund was extended in 2015 for two years with an additional $3.6 billion annually.
That money represents 70 percent of all federal grants to health centers and about a fifth of their annual revenue. Medicaid reimbursements account for the largest share, about 40 percent.
One beneficiary is Pamela Richardson, a 60-year-old patient of Valley Community Healthcare in North Hollywood, Calif., who suffers from an iron absorption disorder called hereditary hemochromatosis. She was unable to get health insurance before Obamacare prohibited insurers from excluding people with preexisting medical conditions. The clinic helped her sign up for coverage through the Medi-Cal expansion.
Once Richardson was covered, she received long-delayed primary care, which revealed she had “scary high” blood pressure and a lump in one breast (which proved benign). “When you don’t have insurance you don’t get breast exams. You don’t have Pap smears,” she told a KHN reporter earlier this year. “I wish people had a little more patience with Obamacare. Once you get what’s wrong with you under control, the cost would come down.”
California has by far the most federally funded health centers and they serve 6.2 million Californians, according to CaliforniaHealth+ Advocates, which represents state clinics. They have received over $1.6 billion from 2011 through 2016 from the Community Health Center Fund, more than any other state, the Congressional Research Service reported in January.
If health centers receive no new funds for 2018, the ensuing financial crunch would cost 51,000 jobs, force the centers to close 2,800 locations and cause 9 million people to lose health care services, according to a budget document that the Health and Human Services Department gave Congress in July.
Uncertainty about what Congress will do now is already causing problems. Hawkins said his members call him and his staff every day, fretting about employment contracts, lease agreements and equipment rentals that run past Oct. 1.
Neighborhood Health in Nashville, Tenn., has federal grant money that will carry it through Jan. 31, but CEO Mary Bufwack said some of her 180 staff members live paycheck to paycheck and are getting nervous about Neighborhood’s stability.
Bufwack is worried the health center won’t receive money it needs to replace a clinic, a project now being planned.
She fears that a new doctor she recruited to join Neighborhood next June will take another job before she can get his signature on an employment contract. And she doesn’t want to do that until she’s sure about her budget.
Mostly, she worries that whatever Congress gives her will be only for one year.
“We’re already worried about next Sept. 30,” Bufwack said.
The federal government does no routine tracking of how autism is treated in ERs, but many experts say the problem of lengthy and inappropriate stays is nationwide and growing.
Lydia Steckelberg, 18, spent a week in the emergency room at a hospital near Sacramento in May. Her family called 911 after Lydia began banging her head on the shower door at her family’s Folsom, Calif., home and saying she wanted to die. (Courtesy of Shane Steckelberg)
Teenagers and young adults with severe autism are spending weeks or even months in emergency rooms and acute-care hospitals, sometimes sedated, restrained or confined to mesh-tented beds, a Kaiser Health News investigation shows.
These young people — who may shout for hours, bang their heads on walls or lash out violently at home — are taken to the hospital after community social services and programs fall short and families call 911 for help, according to more than two dozen interviews with parents, advocates and physicians in states from Maine to California.
There, they wait for beds in specialized programs that focus on treating people with autism and other developmental disabilities, or they return home once families recover from the crisis or find additional support.
Sixteen-year-old Ben Cohen spent 304 days in the ER of Erie County Medical Center in Buffalo. His room was retrofitted so the staff could view him through a windowpane and pass a tray of food through a slot in a locked door. His mother, who felt it wasn’t safe to take him home, worried that staff “were all afraid of him … [and] not trained on his type of aggressive behaviors.”
The hospital “is the incredibly wrong place for these individuals to go in the beginning,” said Michael Cummings, the Buffalo facility’s associate medical director and a psychiatrist who worked on Ben’s case. “It’s a balancing act of trying to do the … least harm in a setting that is not meant for this situation.”
Ben Cohen (Courtesy of Mary Cohen)
Nationally, the number of people with an autism diagnosis who were seen in hospital ERs nearly doubled from 81,628 in 2009 to 159,517 five years later, according to the latest available data from the federal Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. The number admitted also soared, from 13,903 in 2009 to 26,811 in 2014.
That same year, California’s state health planning and development department recorded acute-care hospital stays of at least a month for 60 cases of patients with an autism diagnosis. The longest were 211 and 333 days.
The problem parallels the issue known as psychiatric boarding, which has been an increasing concern in recent years for a range of mental illnesses. Both trace to the shortcomings of deinstitutionalization, the national movement that aimed to close large public facilities and provide care through community settings. But the resources to support that dwindled long ago, and then came the Great Recession of 2008, when local, state and federal budget woes forced sharp cuts in developmental and mental health services.
“As more children with autism are identified, and as the population is growing larger and older, we see a lot more mental health needs in children and adolescents with autism,” explained Aaron Nayfack, a developmental pediatrician at Sutter Health’s Palo Alto Medical Foundation in California who has researched the rise in lengthy hospitalizations. “And we have nowhere near the resources in most communities to take care of these children in home settings.”
So, families struggle — with waiting lists for programs, low pay for government-supported in-home help and backlogged or ineffective crisis support. Often they’ve faced some of these challenges for years. Autism is a neurodevelopmental disorder typically diagnosed at a young age and characterized by impaired communication, difficulty with social interaction and repetitive behaviors that fall along a spectrum of mild to severe.
Adolescents and young adults with severe autism may still have the mental age of a child, and short-term care to stabilize those in crisis who are nonverbal or combative is practically nonexistent. Longer-term care can be almost as hard to find. It must be highly specialized, usually involving intensive behavioral therapy; someone with severe autism gets little benefit from traditional psychiatric services.
General hospitals “are not really equipped to handle someone who is autistic,” said Mark De Antonio, director of adolescent inpatient services at Resnick Neuropsychiatric Hospital in Los Angeles. Several times a month, he said, he hears about patients with no immediate care options being medicated and sedated as they’re held. “It’s a huge problem.”
Alex Sanok (Courtesy of Ann Sanok and Geskus Photography)
In New Hampshire this summer, 22-year-old Alex Sanok spent a month in Exeter Hospital after he became violent at home, breaking windows and hurling objects at walls. His mother called 911, and paramedics spent half an hour trying to calm him before restraining him.
At the hospital, his wrists and ankles were strapped to an ER bed for the first week, and he spent several more weeks in a private room before he could be transferred, according to his mother, Ann Sanok. State agencies that handle developmental disabilities and mental health offered little help, she said.
As the days passed, she said, she and her husband wondered: “What if [Alex] escalates again, what are we doing to do? We were getting no answers. Everyone seemed to kick the can down the road.”
Exeter Hospital said in a statement that its policy is not to use restraints unless there is an “imminent threat to patient or staff safety” and that any use is reviewed hourly. Sanok was moved in June to a special-needs residential school in Massachusetts, where his mother said he is doing well.
The federal government does no routine tracking of how autism is treated in ERs, but many experts say the problem of lengthy and inappropriate stays is nationwide and growing. Kaiser Health News identified some of the more extreme cases through interviews with autism and disability advocates, physicians and families in California, New Hampshire, New York and six other states: Arizona, Connecticut, Maine, Maryland, Michigan and Rhode Island.
Nancy Pineles, a managing attorney with the nonprofit group Disability Rights Maryland, said a group home took one young adult to a Baltimore ER earlier this year after he hit a staff member. And that’s where he remained for several weeks before the hospital moved him to a room in its hospice wing, she said — not because he was dying, but because there was nowhere else for him to go.
Such cases have been “on the increase,” Pineles said. “People with autism and more intense behavioral needs are just being frozen out.”
In Connecticut, the head of the state’s Office of the Child Advocate told lawmakers during a hearing on disability issues in May that the problem had reached a “crisis” level.
Private-insurance data underscore the concerns. In a study published in February in the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, researchers from Pennsylvania State University found that young people ages 12 to 21 with autism are four times more likely to go to the emergency room than peers without autism. Once there, they are 3½ times more likely to be admitted to a hospital floor — at which point they stay in the hospital nearly 30 percent longer.
The analysis, based on a sample of 87,000 insurance claims, also showed that older adolescents with autism are in the ER more than their younger counterparts. The percentage of their visits associated with a mental health crisis almost doubled from 2005 to 2013.
“You’re looking at an increase in unmet need,” said Nayfack, who with Stanford University colleagues documented a similar trend from 1999 to 2009 in hospital admissions for young Californians with autism. By contrast, they found, hospitalization rates held steady during that decade for children and teens with Down syndrome, cerebral palsy and other diagnoses.
Tyler Stolz, a 26-year-old woman with autism and a seizure disorder, was stabilized after a few weeks in a Sacramento hospital, yet she remained there 10 months, according to Disability Rights California, an advocacy group that described her case in its 2015 annual report.
Ultimately, Mercy San Juan Medical Center went to court to demand that Stolz’s public guardian move her. The court filing noted that Stolz “previously harmed hospital staff” and that “a security officer is posted to the patient’s room 24/7.”
Although her conditions no longer required her hospitalization, they still “represent dangers to defendant and possibly to others if she were discharged to the community,” the facility contended. “There is no safe place for the client to go.”
The advocacy nonprofit helped place Stolz at a Northern California center that offered intensive behavioral therapy, recounted Katie Hornberger, its director of clients’ rights. The medical center did not respond to a request for comment, but two years after an investigator found Stolz in a bed covered by a mesh tent, the case remains vivid in Hornberger’s mind.
“I don’t believe we put people in cages,” she said.
New York Stands Out
Some of the longest hospital stays in the nation, averaging 16.5 days, occur in New York state.
James Cordone, 11, spent seven weeks in a Buffalo, N.Y., children’s hospital in a tent-like bed, with a hospital receptionist or instrument sterilization tech in his room at all times, his mother said. The difficulty families like hers face is “the dirty little secret no one wants to talk about.”
Debbie Cordone of Cheektowaga, N.Y., was a retired police dispatcher who had raised her own children when she and her husband adopted James as a toddler. Diagnosed with autism at 3, James was a boy with a bright smile who loved to cuddle, she said. At 8½, James began to grow combative. To ward off injury, the Cordones locked up their knives and forks and put away glass picture frames.
But then their son started head-banging — a problem with some children who have a severe case of autism. The Cordones’ house bears the scars of his pain, including holes in the drywall and a shattered window.
On his 9th birthday, in December 2014, James went into a rage, Cordone said. It took four adults to restrain him.
“He was trying to put his head through the window, sweating profusely,” she said. “He was not there. It was a blank stare.”
The family called 911. James was taken to the Women & Children’s Hospital of Buffalo, where he was sedated on and off for 13 days. He went home, but a fit of rage a few months later landed the young boy in the same hospital for seven weeks in March 2015. “We couldn’t ride out the storm any longer,” Cordone said.
Debbie Cordone installed locks on her refrigerator after her son James began to dump the contents of food and drink containers. (Nancy J. Parisi for KHN)
James damaged walls by banging his head on them, a problem that contributed to Cordone's decision to call 911 for the first time in late 2014. (Nancy J. Parisi for KHN)
Cordone said her son lived out those weeks in a “Posey Bed,” which resembles a child’s playpen propped on top of a hospital bed. During that time, she joined her adult children in a social media campaign to pressure her insurer to pay for intensive behavioral therapy.
The family prevailed, and James went to a center in Baltimore where staff — three counselors for his case alone — focused on his communication skills and adjusted his medication. He now lives in a group home near the Cordone family. He is “a success story,” Cordone said, albeit a rare one among children with severe autism.
James Cordone lived in a mesh-covered, protective Posey Bed during his seven-week stay at the Women & Children’s Hospital of Buffalo, starting in March 2015. (Courtesy of Debbie Cordone)
“This is a crisis,” she said, “and no one is recognizing it.”
Women & Children’s Hospital of Buffalo did not return calls seeking comment.
Mary Cohen, who also lives in the Buffalo area, has endured a similar struggle as a single mother. Ben’s 6-foot-1, 240-pound presence dwarfed her petite frame.
She began locking herself in a basement room to escape his outbursts, while still monitoring him via cameras she’d installed throughout the house to make sure he was safe. As the lock-ins became more frequent, she realized, “I can’t keep going like this.” She found a nearby group home, covered by his disability and Medicaid payments, that could accommodate Ben.
On Aug. 1, 2016, it all imploded. Medication changes and an ear infection triggered a rage, Cohen said, and Ben hurt one of the staff members. Someone called 911, he was taken to the psychiatric emergency room at Erie County Medical Center, and a waiting room there is where he lived until early this summer.
“Staff was on the other side of the window watching him 24 hours around the clock,” Cohen said.
Though a 304-day stay is a record there, cases like this have surged at the hospital, said Cummings, its executive director of behavioral health. They spurred him to launch a grant-funded home-visit program aimed at keeping families with autistic children from reaching a breaking point. He and his clinical partner have counseled nearly 400 families to help manage their youngsters’ medications and find services, and their ER visits have dropped by nearly 50 percent, he said.
“It’s money best spent now, because you’re going to spend it in the end,” stressed Scott Badesch, president of the Autism Society. The organization, well aware of what Badesch calls hospital “warehousing,” is pushing lawmakers nationally to spend more on behavioral counseling and in-home support for families.
A bed finally opened up for Ben at Baltimore’s Kennedy Krieger Institute — a private, highly regarded facility that offers intensive therapy, psychiatry and family coaching. Cohen held out for a placement there, hoping the staff could turn Ben’s behavior around. The teen and his mother made the 360-mile trip in June by ambulance and plane.
“I want to do the right thing for him,” Cohen said. “Because one day I’m not going to be there for him.”