What do the KGB and the former CEO of Cincinnati Children's Hospital have in common?
Eugene Litvak.
The Soviet intelligence agency and the children's hospital have each separately looked to the Ukrainian émigré with a PhD in mathematics for help. He turned down the KGB, but Litvak saved Cincinnati Children's Hospital more than $100 million a year.
For decades, Litvak has been on a mission to save U.S. hospitals money and improve the lives of doctors, nurses, and patients. He says he has just the formula to do it.
Prominent experts vouch for his model, and he has documented impressive results so far: financial savings, fewer hospital-related deaths, lower staff turnover, and shorter wait times. Still, Litvak and his allies have struggled to persuade more hospitals to try his method.
Host Dan Weissmann speaks with Litvak about his unique life story, how he found the fix that he says could revolutionize American hospitals, and why he won't stop fighting for it.
Millions of rural Americans live in counties with doctor shortages and where high-speed internet connections aren't adequate to access advanced telehealth services. A KFF Health News analysis found people in these 'dead zones' live sicker and die younger on average than their peers in well-connected regions.
The video was posted on Tuesday, June 3, 2025 in KFF Health News.
The monopoly can now be considered a 'clear and convincing' benefit to the public with performance that would earn a 'D' on most A-to-F grading scales.
This article was published on Tuesday, June 3, 2025 in KFF Health News.
Despite years of patient complaints and quality-of-care concerns, Ballad Health — the nation's largest state-sanctioned hospital monopoly — will now be held to a lower standard by the Tennessee government, and state data that holds the monopoly accountable will be kept from the public for two years.
Ballad is the only option for hospital care for most of the approximately 1.1 million people in a 29-county swath of Appalachia. Such a monopoly would normally be prohibited by federal law. But under deals negotiated with Tennessee and Virginia years ago, the monopoly is permitted if both states affirm each year that it is an overall benefit to the public.
However, according to a newly renegotiated agreement between Ballad and Tennessee, the monopoly can now be considered a "clear and convincing" benefit to the public with performance that would earn a "D" on most A-to-F grading scales.
And the monopoly can be allowed to continue even with a score that most would consider an "F."
"It's an extreme disservice to the people of northeast Tennessee and southwest Virginia," said Dani Cook, who has organized protests against Ballad's monopoly for years. "We shouldn't have lowered the bar. We should be raising the bar."
The Ballad monopoly, which encompasses 20 hospitals and straddles the border of Tennessee and Virginia, was created in 2018 after lawmakers in both states, in an effort to prevent hospital closures, waived federal antitrust laws so two rival health systems could merge. Although Ballad has largely succeeded at keeping its hospitals open, staffing shortages and patient complaints have left some residents wary, afraid, or unwilling to seek care at Ballad hospitals, according to an investigation by KFF Health News published last year.
In Tennessee, the Ballad monopoly is regulated through a 10-year Certificate of Public Advantage agreement, or COPA — now in its seventh year — that establishes the state's goals and a scoring rubric for hospital performance. Tennessee Department of Health documents show Ballad has fallen short of about three-fourths of the state's quality-of-care goals over the past four fiscal years. But the monopoly has been allowed to continue, at least in part, because the scoring rubric doesn't prioritize quality of care, according to the documents.
Angie Odom, a county commissioner in Tennessee's Carter County, where leaders have clashed with Ballad, said she has driven her 12-year-old daughter more than 100 miles to Knoxville to avoid surgery at a Ballad hospital.
After years of disappointment in Tennessee's oversight of the monopoly, Odom said she was "not surprised" by Ballad's new grading scale.
"They've made a way that they can fail and still pass," she said.
Virginia regulates Ballad with a different agreement and scoring method, and its reviews generally track about one or two years behind Tennessee's. Both states have found Ballad to be an overall benefit in every year they've released a decision.
Neither Ballad Health nor the Tennessee Department of Health, which has the most direct oversight of the monopoly, answered questions submitted in writing about the renegotiated agreement. In an emailed statement, Molly Luton, a Ballad spokesperson, said the company's quality of care has steadily improved in recent years, and she raised repeated complaints from the hospital system about KFF Health News' reporting. The news organization has reviewed every complaint from Ballad and has never found a correction or clarification to be warranted in the coverage.
Tennessee Health Commissioner Ralph Alvarado, who has more than once described the regulation of Ballad Health as a matter of national importance, has declined or not responded to more than a dozen interview requests from KFF Health News to discuss the monopoly.
"Our effort and progress serve as a model for health care in Tennessee, the Appalachia Region, and the entire nation," Alvarado said in a May news release about the monopoly, adding, "We do not take our role lightly as we remain committed to transparency in our COPA oversight."
Tennessee's revised agreement was negotiated behind closed doors for more than a year and announced to the public in early May. As part of that announcement, Tennessee said it wouldn't score Ballad next year, to give the company time to adjust to the new scoring process.
Under that process, the minimum score Ballad needs to meet to show a "clear and convincing" public benefit has been lowered from 85 out of 100 to 70 out of 100. The new agreement also awards Ballad up to 20 points for providing Tennessee with data and records — for example, a report on patient satisfaction — regardless of the level of performance documented. The state can also raise or lower Ballad's overall score by up to 5 points in light of "reputable information" that is not spelled out in the scoring rubric.
Therefore, Ballad can score as low as 65 out of 100, with nearly a third of that score awarded for merely giving information to the state, and still be found to be a "clear and convincing" benefit to the public, which is the highest finding Tennessee can bestow, according to the agreement. And Ballad could score as low as 55 out of 100 without the monopoly facing a risk of being broken up, according to the new agreement.
The agreement also increases how much of Ballad's annual score is directly attributed to the quality of care provided in its hospitals, from 5% to 32%. But the agreement obscures how this will be measured.
Tennessee sets "baseline" goals for Ballad across dozens of quality-of-care issues — like infection rates and speed of emergency room care — and then tracks whether Ballad meets the goals. The new agreement resets these baselines to values that were not made public, leaving it unclear how much the goals for Ballad have changed. Health department spokesperson Dean Flener said the new baselines would not be disclosed until 2027.
Cook, the longtime leader of protests against Ballad, said she believes Tennessee is attempting to silence data-supported criticism until the final year of the 10-year COPA agreement, which ends in 2028.
By then, any outrage would be largely moot, she said.
"If you are going to wait until the last year to tell us the new measurements, why bother?" Cook said. "It is clear, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Tennessee Department of Health is putting the needs and concerns of a corporation above the health and well-being of people."
You're pregnant, healthy, and hearing mixed messages: Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who is not a scientist or doctor, says you don't need the COVID vaccine, but experts at the Centers for Disease Control and Protection still put you in a high-risk group of people who ought to receive boosters. The science is on the side of the shots.
Pregnant women who contracted COVID-19 were more likely to become severely ill and to be hospitalized than non-pregnant women of the same age and demographics, especially early in the COVID pandemic.
A meta-analysis of 435 studies found that pregnant and recently pregnant women who were infected with the virus that causes COVID were more likely to end up in intensive care units, be on invasive ventilation, and die than women who weren't pregnant but had a similar health profile. This was before COVID vaccines were available.
Neil Silverman, a professor of clinical obstetrics and gynecology and the director of the Infectious Diseases in Pregnancy Program at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, said he still sees more bad outcomes in pregnant patients who have COVID. The risk of severe COVID fluctuated as new variants arose and vaccinations became available, Silverman said, but the threat is still meaningful. "No matter what the politics say, the science is the science, and we know that, objectively, pregnant patients are at substantially increased risk of having complications," Silverman said.
A request for comment regarding the scientific literature that supports COVID vaccination for pregnant women sent to HHS' public affairs office elicited an unsigned email unrelated to the question. The office did not respond when asked for an on-the-record comment.
Kennedy, a longtime anti-vaccine activist before joining the Trump administration, announced May 27 that COVID vaccines would be removed from the CDC's immunization schedule for healthy pregnant women and healthy children. His announcement, made in a video posted on the social media platform X, blindsided CDC officials and circumvented the agency's established, scientific processes for adding and removing shots from its recommended schedules, The Washington Post reported.
There's still much unknown about how COVID affects a pregnant person. The physiological relationship between COVID infections and mothers and fetuses at different stages of a pregnancy is complex, said Angela Rasmussen, a virologist at the University of Saskatchewan.
The increased risk to pregnant patients comes in part because pregnancy changes the immune system, Rasmussen said.
"There is natural immune suppression so that the mother's body doesn't attack the developing fetus," Rasmussen said. "While the mother does still have a functioning immune system, it's not functioning at full capacity."
Pregnant patients are more likely to get sick and have a harder time fighting off any infection as a result.
In addition to changing how the immune system works, being pregnant also makes women five times as likely to have blood clots. That risk is increased if they contract COVID, said Sallie Permar, chair of pediatrics at Weill Cornell Medicine.
The virus that causes COVID can affect the vascular endothelium — specialized cells that line blood vessels and help with blood flow, Rasmussen said. In a healthy person, the endothelium helps prevent blood clots by producing chemicals that tweak the vascular system to keep it running. In a person infected with the COVID virus, the balance is thrown off and the production of those molecules is disrupted, which research shows can lead to blood clots or other blood disorders.
Permar said that those clots can be especially dangerous to both pregnant women and fetuses. Inflammation and blood clots in the placenta could be connected to an increased risk of stillbirth, especially from certain COVID variants, according to studies published in major medical journals as well as by the CDC.
When the placenta is inflamed, it's harder for blood carrying oxygen and nutrients to get to the developing baby, said Mary Prahl, an associate professor of pediatrics at the University of California-San Francisco School of Medicine.
"If anything is interrupting those functions — inflammation or clotting or differences in how the blood is flowing — that's really going to affect how the placenta is working and being able to allow the fetus to grow and develop appropriately," she said.
It makes sense that we see the effects of COVID in the placenta, Silverman said. "The placenta is nothing more than a hyper-specialized collection of blood vessels, so it is like a magnetic target for the virus."
Blood vessels in the placenta are smaller and may clot more easily than in the mother's circulatory system, he said.
Permar said recent data suggests that pregnant women sick with COVID still have a higher risk of pregnancy complications such as preeclampsia, preterm birth, and miscarriage, even with existing immunity from previous infection or vaccination. COVID, she said, can still land women in the hospital with pregnancy complications.
Prahl said the connection between stillbirth and COVID may be changing given the immunity many people have developed from vaccination or prior infection. It's an area in which she'd like to see more research.
There's already strong evidence that both mRNA-based and non-mRNA COVID vaccines are safe for pregnant women.
Prahl co-authored a small, early study that found no adverse outcomes and showed antibody protection persisted for both the mother and the baby after birth. "What we learned very quickly is that pregnant individuals want answers and many of them want to be involved in research," she said. Later studies, including one published in the journal Nature Medicine showing that getting a booster in pregnancy cut newborn hospitalizations in the first four months of life, backed up her team's findings.
Prahl expects more evidence will be available soon to support the benefits of mothers receiving a COVID booster during pregnancy.
"I can say, kind of behind the scenes, I'm seeing a lot of this preliminary data," she said.
She blames the delay in part on the Biden administration's scaling back of federal efforts to track COVID. "A lot of the surveillance of these data were pulled back," she said. The Trump administration is further cutting money used to track COVID.
But because the vaccines give a pregnant woman's immune system a boost by increasing neutralizing antibodies, virologist Rasmussen is confident that getting one while pregnant makes it less likely a pregnant woman will end up in the hospital if she gets COVID.
"It will protect the pregnant person from more severe disease," she said.
Getting a COVID vaccine while pregnant also helps protect newborns after birth. Pregnant women who get vaccinated pass that protection to their young babies, who can't get their own shots until they are at least 6 months old.
According to data released by the CDC in 2024, nearly 90% of babies who had to be hospitalized with COVID had mothers who didn't get the vaccine while they were pregnant.
As recently as April 2024, research showed that babies too young to be vaccinated had the highest COVID hospitalization rate of any age group except people 75 and older.
The Trump administration's decision to remove the COVID vaccine from the list of shots it recommends for pregnant women means insurance companies might no longer cover it. Pregnant women who want to get it anyway may have to pay hundreds of dollars out-of-pocket.
"I don't want to be that doctor who just says, ‘Well, it's really important. You have to vaccinate yourself and your kids no matter what, even if you have to pay for it out-of-pocket,' because everyone has their own priorities and budgetary concerns, especially in the current economic climate," Silverman said. "I can't tell a family that the vaccine is more important than feeding their kids."
But he and his colleagues will keep advising pregnant women to try to get the shots anyway.
"Newborns will be completely naive to COVID exposure," he said. "Vaccinating pregnant women to protect their newborns is still a valid reason to continue this effort."
Earlier this year, as President Donald Trump was beginning to reshape the American government, Michael, an emergency room doctor who was born, raised, and trained in the United States, packed up his family and got out.
Michael now works in a small-town hospital in Canada. KFF Health News and NPR granted him anonymity because of fears he might face reprisal from the Trump administration if he returns to the U.S. He said he feels some guilt that he did not stay to resist the Trump agenda but is assured in his decision to leave. Too much of America has simply grown too comfortable with violence and cruelty, he said.
"Part of being a physician is being kind to people who are in their weakest place," Michael said. "And I feel like our country is devolving to really step on people who are weak and vulnerable."
Michael is among a new wave of doctors who are leaving the United States to escape the Trump administration. In the months since Trump was reelected and returned to the White House, American doctors have shown skyrocketing interest in becoming licensed in Canada, where dozens more than normal have already been cleared to practice, according to Canadian licensing officials and recruiting businesses.
The Medical Council of Canada said in an email statement that the number of American doctors creating accounts on physiciansapply.ca, which is "typically the first step" to being licensed in Canada, has increased more than 750% over the past seven months compared with the same time period last year — from 71 applicants to 615. Separately, medical licensing organizations in Canada's most populous provinces reported a rise in Americans either applying for or receiving Canadian licenses, with at least some doctors disclosing they were moving specifically because of Trump.
"The doctors that we are talking to are embarrassed to say they're Americans," said John Philpott, CEO of CanAm Physician Recruiting, which recruits doctors into Canada. "They state that right out of the gate: 'I have to leave this country. It is not what it used to be.'"
Canada, which has universal publicly funded health care, has long been an option for U.S.-trained doctors seeking an alternative to the American health care system. While it was once more difficult for American doctors to practice in Canada due to discrepancies in medical education standards, Canadian provinces have relaxed some licensing regulations in recent years, and some are expediting licensing for U.S.-trained physicians.
The Trump administration did not provide any comment for this article. When asked to respond to doctors' leaving the U.S. for Canada, White House spokesperson Kush Desai asked whether KFF Health News knew the precise number of doctors and their "citizenship status," then provided no further comment. KFF Health News did not have or provide this information.
Philpott, who founded CanAm Physician Recruiting in the 1990s, said the cross-border movement of American and Canadian doctors has for decades ebbed and flowed in reaction to political and economic fluctuations, but that the pull toward Canada has never been as strong as now.
Philpott said CanAm had seen a 65% increase in American doctors looking for Canadian jobs from January to April, and that the company has been contacted by as many as 15 American doctors a day.
Rohini Patel, a CanAm recruiter and doctor, said some consider pay cuts to move quickly.
"They're ready to move to Canada tomorrow," she said. "They are not concerned about what their income is."
The College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario, which handles licensing in Canada's most populous province, said in a statement that it registered 116 U.S.-trained doctors in the first quarter of 2025 — an increase of at least 50% over the prior two quarters. Ontario also received license applications from about 260 U.S.-trained doctors in the first quarter of this year, the organization said.
British Columbia, another populous province, saw a surge of licensure applications from U.S.-trained doctors after Election Day, according to an email statement from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of British Columbia. The statement also said the organization licensed 28 such doctors in the fiscal year that ended in February — triple the total of the prior year.
Quebec's College of Physicians said applications from U.S.-trained doctors have increased, along with the number of Canadian doctors returning from America to practice within the province, but it did not provide specifics. In a statement, the organization said some applicants were trying to get permitted to practice in Canada "specifically because of the actual presidential administration."
Michael, the physician who moved to Canada this year, said he had long been wary of what he described as escalating right-ring political rhetoric and unchecked gun violence in the United States, the latter of which he witnessed firsthand during a decade working in American emergency rooms.
Michael said he began considering the move as Trump was running for reelection in 2020. His breaking point came on Jan. 6, 2021, when a violent mob of Trump supporters besieged the U.S. Capitol in an attempt to stop the certification of the election of Joe Biden as president.
"Civil discourse was falling apart," he said. "I had a conversation with my family about how Biden was going to be a one-term president and we were still headed in a direction of being increasingly radicalized toward the right and an acceptance of vigilantism."
It then took about a year for Michael to become licensed in Canada, then longer for him to finalize his job and move, he said. While the licensing process was "not difficult," he said, it did require him to obtain certified documents from his medical school and residency program.
"The process wasn't any harder than getting your first license in the United States, which is also very bureaucratic," Michael said. "The difference is, I think most people practicing in the U.S. have got so much administrative fatigue that they don't want to go through that process again."
Michael said he now receives near-daily emails or texts from American doctors who are seeking advice about moving to Canada.
This desire to leave has also been striking to Hippocratic Adventures, a small business that helps American doctors practice medicine in other countries.
The company was co-founded by Ashwini Bapat, a Yale-educated doctor who moved to Portugal in 2020 in part because she was "terrified that Trump would win again." For years, Hippocratic Adventures catered to physicians with wanderlust, guiding them through the bureaucracy of getting licensed in foreign nations or conducting telemedicine from afar, Bapat said.
But after Trump was reelected, customers were no longer seeking grand travels across the globe, Bapat said. Now they were searching for the nearest emergency exit, she said.
"Previously it had been about adventure," Bapat said. "But the biggest spike that we saw, for sure, hands down, was when Trump won reelection in November. And then Inauguration Day. And basically every single day since then."
At least one Canadian province is actively marketing itself to American doctors.
Doctors Manitoba, which represents physicians in the rural province that struggles with one of Canada's worst doctor shortages, launched a recruiting campaign after the election to capitalize on Trump and the rise of far-right politics in the U.S.
The campaign focuses on Florida and North and South Dakota and advertises "zero political interference in physician patient relationship" as a selling point.
Alison Carleton, a family medicine doctor who moved from Iowa to Manitoba in 2017, said she left to escape the daily grind of America's for-profit healthcare system and because she was appalled that Trump was elected the first time.
Carleton said she now runs a small-town clinic with low stress, less paperwork, and no fear of burying her patients in medical debt.
She dropped her American citizenship last year.
"People I know have said, 'You left just in time,'" Carleton said. "I tell people, 'I know. When are you going to move?'"
On Christmas Day at the WaTiki indoor water park, Hans Wirt was getting winded from following his son up the stairs to the waterslides.
Wirt's breathing became more labored once they returned to the nearby hotel where they and Wirt's girlfriend were staying while visiting family in Rapid City, South Dakota.
Then he grew nauseated and went pale. Wirt thought the cause might have been the altitude change between his home in Deltona, Florida — 33 feet above sea level — and Rapid City, at the edge of the Black Hills. But his 12-year-old son was worried and called for an ambulance.
"I could tell by the look in his eyes that there was something a little more to this," Wirt said. "So I can kind of thank my son for saving my life."
It turned out the 62-year-old was having a heart attack. A "lousy Christmas present," Wirt said.
Medics stabilized Wirt before taking him to Monument Health — the only hospital in Rapid City with an emergency room — where he was treated over two days.
Then the bill came.
The Medical Procedure
Paramedics used a defibrillator to restore a normal heart rhythm. Doctors at the hospital gave Wirt various medications, used an electrocardiograph and other diagnostic and monitoring devices, and inserted stents into his arteries to improve blood flow to his heart.
The Final Bill
$95,523.73, including $32,998.90 for medical supplies, mostly related to the stents, and $28,879 for treatment in a cardiac catheterization lab. After unspecified hospital adjustments to the bill, Wirt owed $77,574.44.
The Billing Problem: Medicaid Across State Lines
Wirt is covered by Florida's Medicaid program through Sunshine Health, a managed-care plan. But the South Dakota hospital refused to submit the bill to his out-of-state Medicaid plan, instead sending it to Wirt and eventually threatening to send the debt to a collection agency.
Medicaid, the government health insurance program primarily for low-income people and those with disabilities, is jointly funded by the federal government and states. States are responsible for administering Medicaid, and most contract with private insurance companies like Sunshine Health.
Federal law says state Medicaid programs must reimburse out-of-state hospitals for beneficiaries' care in an emergency.
Many hospitals bill out-of-state Medicaid plans in such situations. If they don't, they risk not being reimbursed at all, since Medicaid recipients probably won't be able to afford large bills, said Katy DeBriere, who was legal director for the Florida Health Justice Project when she spoke with KFF Health News in April.
But there's no federal law that requires them to do so, she said.
Federal court opinions have noted that hospitals are not required to bill Medicaid for every individual beneficiary they treat, even if they generally accept Medicaid.
Monument Health didn't bill Wirt's insurance because the hospital isn't enrolled as a healthcare provider with Florida Medicaid, said hospital spokesperson Stephany Chalberg. She told KFF Health News that Monument bills Medicaid plans only in South Dakota and four bordering states: Wyoming, Montana, Nebraska, and Minnesota.
The hospital's website says Medicaid patients who are not enrolled in one of those states "are responsible for any charges."
"Due to the significant credentialing requirements of our multiple hospitals and hundreds of physicians we do not participate with all states," a hospital representative wrote in a message to Wirt.
According to Florida's Medicaid website, out-of-state providers who have treated one of its enrollees must submit five documents to bill the program, including a six-page application, a copy of the provider's license, and a claim form.
The process is different in each state, and many Medicaid programs reimburse out-of-state providers at lower rates than those that are in-state, according to the Medicaid and CHIP Payment and Access Commission, a federal agency that advises Congress.
Provider enrollment barriers leave "beneficiaries in an untenable situation, preventing them from accessing the coverage to which they are legally entitled," Chalberg said.
Wirt decided to submit his bill to his Medicaid plan on his own. But he said Sunshine Health told him it can only process bills received directly from providers.
Elizabeth Boyd, a spokesperson for Sunshine Health, told KFF Health News that its staff contacted the hospital on Wirt's behalf. She did not respond when asked why the plan can't process bills submitted by patients or what more it could have done to help Wirt.
The Resolution
A few days after KFF Health News emailed officials at Monument Health for this story, Wirt noticed his balance due fell from more than $77,000 to $0.
Chalberg told KFF Health News that Monument Health covered Wirt's bill through its charity care program. She said that "appropriate patients" are told about the program and that "before any bill is sent to collections, it is evaluated to determine whether the patient may qualify for our financial assistance policy."
To retain tax-exempt status, nonprofit hospitals must have programs that provide free or discounted care to patients who can't afford their bills.
But Wirt said that when he first contacted Monument Health after receiving his bill and said he couldn't afford to pay it, officials didn't mention the program. He said they didn't share any resources when he asked whether there were outside groups that could help him pay the bill. Wirt said hospital officials just recommended setting up a payment plan, but the monthly bills were still too high for him to afford. "There's a reason why I'm on Medicaid," Wirt said. "It's just beyond me how they can expect somebody who had Medicaid to come up with that kind of money. It's unrealistic."
The Takeaway
Sarah Somers, legal director at the National Health Law Program, said the various "cogs in the Medicaid system" didn't operate correctly in Wirt's situation. "Nobody's exerting themselves enough to just smooth the way for this person."
States are responsible for managing Medicaid and are therefore the main "cog," Somers said. She said Medicaid managed-care companies are also supposed to intervene.
Somers and DeBriere said Medicaid recipients who receive bills they don't think they owe should file a complaint with their state's Medicaid program and, if they have one, their managed-care plan. They can also ask whether there is a Medicaid or managed-care caseworker who can advocate on their behalf.
The attorneys said patients should also contact a legal aid clinic or a consumer protection firm that specializes in medical debt. DeBriere said those organizations can help file complaints and communicate with the hospital.
DeBriere said that, had she assisted Wirt, she would have immediately sent a letter to Monument Health ordering it to stop billing him and to either register with Florida Medicaid to submit his bill or offer him charity care.
Wirt said the doctors who treated him and the medical care he received at Monument Health were excellent. He said he spoke out about the hospital's billing practices because he doesn't want others to endure the same experience.
"If I get sick and have a heart attack, I have to be sure that I do that here in Florida now instead of some other state," he joked.
Bill of the Month is a crowdsourced investigation by KFF Health News and The Washington Post's Well+Being that dissects and explains medical bills. Since 2018, this series has helped many patients and readers get their medical bills reduced, and it has been cited in statehouses, at the U.S. Capitol, and at the White House. Do you have a confusing or outrageous medical bill you want to share? Tell us about it!
SAN FRANCISCO — Health nonprofits and medical interpreters warn that federal cuts have eliminated dozens of positions in California for community workers who help non-English speakers sign up for insurance coverage and navigate the healthcare system.
At the same time, people with limited English proficiency have scaled back their requests for language services, which healthcare advocates attribute in part to President Donald Trump's immigration crackdown and his executive order declaring English as the national language.
Such policy and funding changes could leave some without lifesaving care, particularly children and seniors. "People are going to have a hard time accessing benefits they're entitled to and need to live independently," said Carol Wong, a senior rights attorney for Justice in Aging, a national advocacy group.
Nearly 69 million people in the U.S. speak a language other than English, and 26 million of them speak English less than "very well," according to the most recent U.S. Census data available, from 2023. A KFF-Los Angeles Times survey from that year found that immigrants with limited English proficiency reported more barriers accessing healthcare and worse health than English-proficient immigrants.
Health advocates fear that, without adequate support, millions of people in the U.S. with limited English proficiency will be more likely to experience medical errors, misdiagnosis, neglect, and other adverse outcomes. During the start of the pandemic in 2020, ProPublica reported that a woman with coronavirus symptoms died in Brooklyn after missing out on timely treatment because emergency room staffers could not communicate with her in Hungarian. And, at the height of the crisis, The Virginian-Pilot first reported that a Spanish translation on a state website erroneously stated that the covid-19 vaccine was not necessary.
In 2000, President Bill Clinton signed an executive order aimed at improving access to federal services for people with limited English proficiency. Research shows language assistance results in higher patient satisfaction, as well as fewer medical errors, misdiagnoses, and adverse health outcomes. Language services also save the healthcare system money by reducing hospital stays and readmissions.
It's unclear what the Department of Health and Human Services intends to do. HHS did not respond to questions from KFF Health News.
An HHS plan implemented under President Joe Biden, including guidance during public health emergencies and disasters, has been archived, meaning it may not reflect current policies. However, HHS's Office for Civil Rights still informs patients of their right to language assistance services when they pick up a prescription, apply for a health insurance plan, or visit a doctor.
And the office added protections in July that prohibit health providers from using untrained staff, family members, or children to provide interpretation during medical visits. It also required that translation of sensitive information using artificial intelligence be reviewed by a qualified human translator for accuracy.
Those safeguards could be undone by the Trump administration, said Mara Youdelman, a managing director at the National Health Law Program, a national legal and health policy advocacy organization. "There's a process that needs to be followed," she said, about making changes with public input. "I would strongly urge them to consider the dire consequences when people don't have effective communication."
Even if the federal government ultimately doesn't offer language services for the public, Youdelman said, hospitals and health providers are required to provide language assistance at no charge to patients.
Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibits discrimination based on race or national origin, protections that extend to language. And the 2010 Affordable Care Act, which expanded health coverage for millions of Americans and adopted numerous consumer protections, requires health providers receiving federal funds to make language services, including translation and interpretation, available.
"English can be the official language and people still have a right to get language services when they go to access healthcare," Youdelman said. "Nothing in the executive order changed the actual law."
Insurers still need to include multi-language taglines in their correspondence to enrollees explaining how they can access language services. And health facilities must post visible notices informing patients about language assistance services and guarantee certified and qualified interpreters.
State and local governments could broaden their own language access requirements. A few states have taken such actions in recent years, and California state lawmakers are considering a bill that would establish a language access director, mandate human review of AI translations, and improve surveys assessing language needs.
"With increasing uncertainty at the federal level, state and local access laws and policies are even more consequential," said Jake Hofstetter, policy analyst at the Migration Policy Institute.
The Los Angeles Department of Public Health and San Francisco's Office of Civic Engagement and Immigrants Affairs said their language services have not been affected by Trump's executive order or federal funding cuts.
Demand, however, has dropped. Aurora Pedro of Comunidades Indígenas en Liderazgo, one of the few medical interpreters in Los Angeles who speaks Akatek and Qʼanjobʼal, Mayan languages from Guatemala, said she has received fewer calls for her services since Trump took office.
And other pockets of California have reduced language services because of the federal funding cuts.
Hernán Treviño, a spokesperson for the Fresno County Department of Public Health, said the county cut the number of community health workers by more than half, from 49 to 20 positions. That reduced the availability of on-the-ground navigators who speak Spanish, Hmong, or Indigenous languages from Latin America and help immigrants enroll in health plans and schedule routine screenings.
Treviño said staffers are still available to support residents in Spanish, Hmong, Lao, and Punjabi at county offices. A free phone line is also available to help residents access services in their preferred language.
Mary Anne Foo, executive director of the Orange County Asian and Pacific Islander Community Alliance, said the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration froze $394,000 left in a two-year contract to improve mental health services. As a result, the alliance is planning to let go 27 of its 62 bilingual therapists, psychiatrists, and case managers. The organization serves more than 80,000 patients who speak over 20 languages.
"We can only keep them through June 30," Foo said. "We're still trying to figure it out — if we can cover people."
At one call center in the Philippines, workers help Americans with diabetes or neurological conditions troubleshoot devices that monitor their health. Sometimes they get pressing calls: elderly patients who are alone and experiencing a medical emergency.
"That's not part of the job of our employees or our tech supports," said Ruth Elio, an occupational nurse who supervised the center's workers when she spoke with KFF Health News last year. "Still, they're doing that because it is important."
Elio also helped workers with their own health problems, most frequently headaches or back pains, borne of a life of sitting for hours on end.
In a different call center, Kevin Asuncion transcribed medical visits from half a world away, in the United States. You can get used to the hours, he said in an interview last year: 8 p.m. to 5 a.m. His breaks were mostly spent sleeping; not much is open then.
Health risks and night shifts aside, call center workers have a new concern: artificial intelligence.
Startups are marketing AI products with lifelike voices to schedule or cancel medical visits, refill prescriptions, and help triage patients. Soon, many patients might initiate contact with the health system not by speaking with a call center worker or receptionist, but with AI. Zocdoc, the appointment-booking company, has introduced an automated assistant it says can schedule visits without human intervention 70% of the time.
The medically focused call center workforce in the Philippines is a vast one: 200,000 at the end of 2024, estimates industry trade group leader Jack Madrid. That figure is more than the number of paramedics in the United States at the end of 2023, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. And some employers are opening outposts in other countries, like India, while using AI to reshape or replace their workforces.
Still, it's unclear whether AI's digital manipulations could match the proverbial human touch. For example, a recent study in Nature Medicine found that while some models can diagnose maladies when presented with a canned anecdote, as prospective doctors do in training, AI struggles to elicit information from simulated patients.
"The rapport, or the trust that we give, or the emotions that we have as humans cannot be replaced," Elio said.
Sachin Jain, president and CEO of Scan Health Plan, an insurer, said humans have context that AI doesn't have — at least for now. A receptionist at a small practice may know the patients well enough to pick up on subtle cues and communicate to the doctor that a particular caller is "somebody that you should see, talk to, that day, that minute, or that week."
The turn toward call centers, while creating more distance between a caller and a health provider, preserved the human touch. Yet some agents at call centers and their advocates say the ways they are monitored on the job undermine care. At one Kaiser Permanente location, it's a "very micromanaging environment," said one nurse who asked not to provide her name for fear of reprisal.
"From the beginning of the shift to your end, you're expected to take call after call after call from an open queue," she said. Even when giving advice for complex cases, "there's an unwritten rule on how long a nurse should take per call: 12 minutes."
Meanwhile, the job is getting tougher, she said. "We're the backup to the health care system. We're open 24/7," she said. "They're calling about their incision sites, which are bleeding. Their child has asthma, and the instructions for the medications are not clear."
One nurses union is protesting a potential AI management tool in the call centers.
"AI tools don't make medical decisions," Kaiser Permanente spokesperson Vincent Staupe told KFF Health News. "Our physicians and care teams are always at the center of decision-making with our patients and in all our care settings, including call centers."
Kaiser Permanente is not affiliated with KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes KFF Health News.
Some firms cite 30% to 50% turnover rates — stats that some say make a case for turning over the job to AI.
Call centers "can't keep people, because it's just a really, really challenging job," said Adnan Iqbal, co-founder and CEO of Luma Health, which creates AI products to automate some call center work. No wonder, "if you're getting yelled at every 90 seconds by a patient, insurance company, a staff member, what have you."
To hear business leaders tell it, their customers are frustrated: Instead of the human touch, patients get nothing at all, stymied by long wait times and harried, disempowered workers.
One time, Marissa Moore — an investor at OMERS Ventures — got a taste of patients' frustrations when trying to schedule a visit by phone at five doctors' offices. "In every single one, I got a third party who had no intel on providers in the office, their availability, or anything."
These types of gripes are increasingly common — and getting the attention of investors and businesses.
Customer complaints are hitting the bottom lines of businesses — like health insurers, which can be rewarded by the federal government's Medicare Advantage policies for better customer service.
When Scan noticed a drop in patient ratings for some of the medical providers in its insurance network, it learned those providers had switched to using centralized call centers. Customer service suffered, and the lower ratings translated into lower payments from the federal government, Jain said.
"There's a degree of dissatisfaction that's bubbling up among our patients," he said.
So, for some businesses, the notion of a computer receptionist seems a welcome solution to the problem of ineffectual call centers. AI voices, which can convincingly mimic human voices, are "beyond uncanny valley," said Richie Cartwright, the founder of Fella, a weight loss startup that used one AI product to call pharmacies and ask if they had GLP-1s in stock.
Prices have dropped, too. Google AI's per-use price has dropped by 97%, company CEO Sundar Pichai claimed in a 2024 speech.
Some boosters are excited to put the vision of AI assistants into action. Since the second Trump administration took office, policy initiatives by the quasi-agency known as the Department of Government Efficiency, led by Elon Musk, have reportedly explored using artificial intelligence bots for customer service at the Department of Education.
Most executives interviewed by KFF Health News — in the hospital, insurance, tech, and consultancy fields — were keen to emphasize that AI would complement humans, not replace them. Some resorted to jargon and claimed the technology might make call center nurses and employees more efficient and effective.
But some businesses are signaling that their AI models could replace human workers. Their websites hint at reducing reliance on staff. And they are developing pricing strategies based on reducing the need for labor, said Michael Yang, a venture capitalist at OMERS.
Yang described the prospect for businesses as a "we-share-in-the-upside kind of thing," with startups pitching clients on paying them for the cost of 1½ hires and their AI doing the work of twice that number.
But providers are building narrow services at the moment. For example, the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences started with a limited idea. The organization's call center closes at 5 p.m. — meaning patients who try to cancel appointments after hours left a phone message, creating a backlog for workers to address the next morning that took time from other scheduling tasks and left canceled appointments unfilled. So they started by using an AI system provided by Luma Health to allow after-hours cancellations and have since expanded it to allow patients to cancel appointments all day.
Michelle Winfeld-Hanrahan, the health system's chief clinical access officer, who oversees its deployment, said UAMS has plenty of ideas for more automation, including allowing patients to check on prior authorizations and leading them through post-discharge follow-up.
Many executives claim AI tools can complement, rather than replace, humans. One company says its product can measure "vocal biomarkers" — subtle changes in tone or inflection — that correlate with disease and supply that information to human employees interacting with the patient. Some firms are using large language models to summarize complex documents: pulling out obscure insurance policies, or needed information, for employees. Others are interested in AI guiding a human through a conversation.
Even if the technology isn't replacing people, it is reshaping them. AI can be used to change humans' behavior and presentation. Call center employees said in interviews that they knew of, or had heard omnipresent rumors of, or feared, a variety of AI tools.
At some Kaiser Permanente call centers, unionized employees protested — and successfully delayed — the implementation of an AI tool meant to measure "active listening," a union flyer claimed.
And employees and executives associated with the call center workforce in the Philippines said they'd heard of other software tools, such as technology that changed Filipino accents to American ones. There's "not a super huge need for that, given our relatively neutral accents, but we've seen that," said Madrid, the trade group leader.
"Just because something can be automated doesn't mean it should be," he said.
Since President Donald Trump released his 2026 budget blueprint in early May, calling for $163 billion in federal spending cuts, much of the attention has focused on his slashing of foreign aid and boosting of border security. But the proposal also holds important clues — amid some mixed messages — about the administration's approach to two pressing public health issues: mental health and addiction.
There are about 80,000 overdose deaths in the United States each year, recent data shows, and nearly 50,000 deaths by suicide. Trump's proposal includes heavy cuts, totaling more than $22.6 billion, to three federal agencies that address these issues and suggests eliminating programs aimed at suicide and overdose prevention. The administration says this will streamline its efforts, but advocates, researchers, and public health practitioners worry this could make the death toll even worse.
Of course, a proposal is far from a final budget.
And this isn't even a full budget proposal. It's what people on Capitol Hill call a "skinny budget." It covers only discretionary spending that Congress authorizes each year, not larger entitlement programs like Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security. Those big-ticket items and many other details will be addressed in the administration's full budget, expected in the coming months.
"You don't have it in enough detail to be able to really make assessments" about specific policies, said Rodney Whitlock, a vice president at the McDermott+ consulting firm and a longtime Republican Senate staffer. But "even in a skinny budget, you have to take it seriously and think that, 'Oh yeah, they're going to try to accomplish this.'"
About two weeks before Trump released his skinny budget, a preliminary budget document for the Department of Health and Human Services was leaked, showing deep funding cuts and lists of programs slated for elimination.
Discrepancies between those two documents — the official, skinny budget and the more detailed leaked one — have muddled the budget process even more than usual.
Here are three things that millions of Americans experiencing mental illness or addiction, and their loved ones, should watch as the process continues.
1. There is considerable confusion about the future of suicide prevention programs, including the nation's mental health crisis hotline, 988.
Trump plans to propose spending $520 million on the 988 system next year — the same amount as in the current fiscal year, said Rachel Cauley, a spokesperson for the White House Office of Management and Budget. She told KFF Health News that the president's budget will include an additional $95 million for other suicide prevention programs.
But that's far from clear when looking through the only official budget document released so far.
Trump's skinny proposal calls for more than $1 billion in cuts to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, the government's lead agency on all things related to mental health and addiction. The proposal says much of that comes from "eliminating inefficient funding" for SAMHSA's Programs of Regional and National Significance.
This bucket of spending includes a variety of grant programs, in areas including children's mental health and homelessness prevention. Budget documents from the current fiscal year show some of the costliest programs under this title focus on suicide prevention, including 988 grants to ensure state and regional call centers have the capacity to handle the millions of calls and texts the crisis line receives, Garrett Lee Smith grants focused on preventing youth suicide, and Zero Suicide grants that help health systems develop comprehensive suicide screening and response protocols.
Many people consider these programs vital given the country's ongoing suicide crisis. From 2000 to 2018, the national suicide rate increased 35%. Although there was a slight dip the following two years, the rate returned to its peak in 2022.
The 988 system, since launching in 2022 under the Biden administration, has fielded more than 9.8 million calls and 2.5 million texts.
"Cutting this funding is going to be disastrous," said Paul Nestadt, a psychiatrist and an associate professor at Johns Hopkins University. "A lot of suicide prevention does take place at the state or even local level, but it's funded by federal programs."
The skinny budget proposal says, "These programs either duplicate other Federal spending or are too small to have a national impact."
Cauley did not respond to questions about where she got the 988 and suicide prevention funding numbers she cited or why they differ from what's noted in the skinny budget.
Although it's fairly common to see discrepancies among an administration's various budget documents, attention to these documents — and concerns about differences — are heightened this year amid the Trump team's efforts to radically downsize the government and federal spending.
"It's very confusing," said Laurel Stine, chief advocacy and policy officer with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. "We want to ensure that the 988 lifeline is safeguarded," but the only officially released budget document "doesn't speak to it at all."
Another point of confusion: The skinny budget suggests that states can accomplish the work supported by the eliminated funding through separate block grants they receive from the federal government to address mental health and addiction.
However, those grants are specifically aimed at caring for people with serious mental illness and cannot be spent on suicide prevention for the general public.
2. The administration wants to cut certain tools used for preventing drug overdoses.
In the skinny budget, the Trump administration says it is "committed to combatting the scourge of deadly drugs that have ravaged American communities."
It goes on to propose eliminating the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, which has overseen a lot of overdose prevention work, and consolidating the infectious disease and opioids program with three other programs, effectively reducing its budget and capacity.
"President Trump says that he wants to protect Americans from fentanyl," said Hanna Sharif-Kazemi, who works on federal affairs for the Drug Policy Alliance, an advocacy organization for people who use drugs. "But the plan that he has outlined in his budget proposal really doesn't match those words."
The proposal refers to "harm reduction" efforts, including providing sterile syringes to people using drugs, as "dangerous activities" and suggests federal funds should not support them.
But syringe service programs are among the most studied interventions and are proven to reduce the transmission of infectious diseases, such as HIV and hepatitis, without increasing crime or drug use.
They also "do so much more than just give syringes," Sharif-Kazemi said, adding that they typically distribute naloxone, which can reverse opioid overdoses, and connect people to resources for food, housing, and treatment, which help keep them alive.
Without these programs, infectious diseases are more likely to spread and affect the broader community, said Nestadt, the Johns Hopkins professor. "Eliminating those programs is going to have terrible effects on the population of the United States, regardless of whether they're using opiates or not."
3. Research cuts aimed at 'DEI' could worsen disparities in suicide and overdose rates.
The Trump proposal takes an axe to the National Institutes of Health, wiping out nearly $18 billion of the research agency's budget and eliminating several centers within it, including the National Institute on Minority and Health Disparities.
These actions align with Trump's ongoing attacks on "diversity, equity, and inclusion" programs, which he calls "woke" ideology.
Researchers say the proposed cuts, if enacted, could hamper efforts to address racial disparities in mental health and addiction that have become increasingly prominent.
Suicide rates have been rising faster for Black Americans than for their white counterparts. Early in the covid-19 pandemic, when suicide rates decreased for white Americans, they trended in the opposite direction for Black Americans and other communities of color.
"It might seem to the layperson that suicide is suicide, overdose is overdose," Nestadt said. But the data shows that trends are different for different groups. That means the factors that drive them to suicide — and the interventions that could save their lives — may be different.
"If I want to reach people with suicidal thoughts that are a highly educated, affluent population that has access to health care, I'm going to go to primary care doctors and pediatricians" to implement interventions, Nestadt said. But when trying to reach urban Black teens who have limited access to health care, "maybe it's a church" or barbershop, he said.
Nestadt is currently working on a CDC-funded study in which he interviews the family and friends of Black youths who died by suicide to understand what led to that point and how it could be prevented. He worries his funding could be cut any day.
What happens next?
Nothing in any Trump budget proposal is final. Lawmakers hold the power to determine federal spending.
Although some advocates worry that congressional Republicans will simply accede to Trump's demands, Whitlock, the McDermott+ consultant, said, "Congress is always going to want to express its will, and this will be no different."
Susan Collins, the Republican chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee, which oversees the budget, has stated that she has "serious objections" to some of the proposed cuts.
And when Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. appeared before House and Senate committees on May 14, some lawmakers pushed back on the administration's plans. Rep. Madeleine Dean (D-Pa.) held up a packet of naloxone and said the government should amplify what works to decrease overdose deaths instead of shuttering SAMHSA.
"Help us save more lives," she said. "Don't shift it and shaft it."
CHARLESTON, S.C. — When Page Campbell's doctor recommended she try an injectable prescription drug called Wegovy to lose weight before scheduling bariatric surgery, she readily agreed.
"I've struggled with my weight for so long," said Campbell, 40, a single mother of two. "I'm not opposed to trying anything."
In early April, about four weeks after she'd started taking Wegovy, Campbell said she hadn't experienced any side effects, such as nausea or bowel irritation. But she doesn't use a scale at home, she said, so she didn't know whether she'd lost any weight since her most recent medical appointment earlier this year, when she weighed 314 pounds. Still, she was confident about achieving weight loss.
"It's going to work because I'm putting in the work. I'm changing my eating habits. I'm exercising," said Campbell, a shipping manager at a Michaels store. "I'm not going to second-guess myself."
Wegovy belongs to a pricey class of drugs called GLP-1s (short for glucagon-like peptide-1 agonists) that have upended the treatment of obesity in recent years, offering hope to patients who have tried and failed to lose weight in myriad other ways.
Campbell gained access to Wegovy through South Carolina Medicaid's decision in late 2024 to cover these weight loss drugs. But the medications remain out of reach for millions of patients across the country who could benefit from them, because many public and private health insurers have deemed the drugs too expensive.
A report published in November by KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes KFF Health News, found only 13 states were covering GLP-1s for the treatment of obesity for Medicaid beneficiaries as of August. South Carolina became the 14th in November.
Liz Williams, one of the report's authors and a senior policy manager for the Program on Medicaid and the Uninsured at KFF, said she was not aware of any other state Medicaid programs joining the list since then. Looking ahead, the remaining states may be reluctant to add a new, expensive drug benefit while they brace for potential federal cuts coming from Congress, she said.
"As the budget debate, federally, is developing, that may impact how states are thinking about this," Williams said.
The federal government won't be helping anytime soon, either. Medicare covers GLP-1s to treat diabetes and some other health conditions, including obstructive sleep apnea and cardiovascular disease, but not obesity. In early April, the Trump administration announced it will not finalize a rule proposed by the Biden administration that would have allowed an estimated 7.4 million people covered by Medicare and Medicaid to access GLP-1s for weight loss. Meanwhile, the FDA is poised to force less expensive, compounded versions of these drugs off the market.
And the barrier to entry remains high, even for Medicaid patients in those few states that have agreed to cover the drugs without a federal mandate.
Case in point: In South Carolina, where more than one-third of all adults, and nearly half of the African American population, qualify as obese, the state Medicaid agency estimates only 1,300 beneficiaries will meet the stringent prerequisites for GLP-1 coverage.
Under one of those requirements, Medicaid beneficiaries who wish to access these drugs to lose weight must attest to "increased exercise activity," said Jeff Leieritz, a spokesperson for the South Carolina Department of Health and Human Services.
Campbell, who is insured by Medicaid, was granted coverage for Wegovy based on her body mass index. First, though, she was required to submit six months' worth of documentation proving that she'd tried and failed to lose weight after receiving nutrition counseling and going on a 1,200-calorie-a day diet, said Kenneth Mitchell, one of Campbell's doctors and the medical director for bariatric surgery and obesity medicine at Roper St. Francis Healthcare.
Campbell's Wegovy prescription was approved for six months, Mitchell said. When that authorization expires, Campbell and her health care team will need to submit more documentation, including proof that she has lost at least 5% of her body weight and has kept up with nutrition counseling.
"It's not just, ‘Send a prescription in and they cover it.' It's rather arduous," Mitchell said. "Not a lot of folks are going to do this."
Mitchell said South Carolina Medicaid's decision to cover these drugs was met with excitement among those working in his medical specialty. But he wasn't surprised that the state anticipates relatively few people will access this benefit annually, since the approval process is so rigorous and the cost high. "The problem is the medicines are so expensive," Mitchell said.
Novo Nordisk, which manufactures Wegovy, announced in March that it was cutting the monthly price for the drug from $650 to $499 for cash-paying customers. The price that health insurance plans and beneficiaries pay for these drugs varies, but some GLP-1s cost more than $1,000 per patient per month, Mitchell said, and many people will need to take them for the rest of their lives to maintain weight loss.
"That is a tremendous price tag that someone has to foot the bill for," Mitchell said.
That's the reason California Gov. Gavin Newsom on May 14 proposed eliminating Medicaid coverage of GLP-1s for weight loss starting Jan. 1, to save an estimated $680 million a year by 2028.
And the North Carolina State Health Plan Board of Trustees voted last year to end coverage of GLP-1s for state employees, after then-North Carolina Treasurer Dale Folwell's office estimated in 2023 that the drugs were projected to cost the State Health Plan $1 billion over the next six years. The decision came only a few months after a separate North Carolina agency announced it would start covering these drugs for Medicaid beneficiaries. North Carolina Medicaid has estimated it will spend $16 million a year on GLP-1s.
South Carolina Medicaid, which insures fewer than half the number of people enrolled in North Carolina Medicaid, anticipates spending less. Leieritz estimated GLP-1s and nutrition counseling offered to Medicaid beneficiaries in South Carolina will cost $10 million a year. State funding will cover $3.3 million of the expense; the remainder will be paid for by matching Medicaid funds from the federal government.
In a recent interview, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. didn't rule out the possibility that Medicare and Medicaid might cover GLP-1s for obesity treatment in the future as costs come down.
They're "extraordinary drugs" and "we're going to reduce the cost," Kennedy told CBS News in early April. He said he would like GLP-1s to eventually be made available to Medicare and Medicaid patients who are seeking obesity treatment after they have tried other ways to lose weight. "That is the framework that we're now debating."
Meanwhile, public health experts have applauded South Carolina Medicaid's decision to cover GLP-1s. Yet the new benefit won't help the vast majority of the 1.5 million adults in South Carolina who are classified as obese, according to data published by the South Carolina Department of Public Health.
"We still have some work to do," acknowledged Brannon Traxler, the public health department's chief medical officer.
But the state's new "Action Plan for Healthy Eating and Active Living," written by a coalition of groups in South Carolina, including the Department of Public Health, makes no mention of GLP-1s or the role they might play in lowering obesity rates in the state.
The action plan, underwritten by a $1.5 million federal grant, isn't meant to lay out an overarching approach for lowering obesity in South Carolina, Traxler said. Instead, it promotes physical activity in schools, nutrition, and the expansion of outdoor walking trails, among other strategies. A more comprehensive obesity plan might address the benefits of surgical intervention and GLP-1s, but those also carry risk, expense, and side effects, Traxler said.
"Certainly, I think, there is a need to bring it all together," she said.
Campbell, for one, is taking the comprehensive approach. On top of injecting Wegovy once weekly, she said, she is prioritizing protein intake and moving her body. She also underwent weight loss surgery in late April.
"Weight loss is my biggest goal," said Campbell, who expressed appreciation for Medicaid's coverage of Wegovy. "It's one more thing that's going to help me get to my goal."