About a year into the process of redetermining Medicaid eligibility after the covid-19 public health emergency, more than 20 million people have been kicked off the joint federal-state program for low-income families.
A chorus of stories recount the ways the unwinding has upended people’s lives, but Native Americans are proving particularly vulnerable to losing coverage and face greater obstacles to reenrolling in Medicaid or finding other coverage.
“From my perspective, it did not work how it should,” said Kristin Melli, a pediatric nurse practitioner in rural Kalispell, Montana, who also provides telehealth services to tribal members on the Fort Peck Reservation.
The redetermination process has compounded long-existing problems people on the reservation face when seeking care, she said. She saw several patients who were still eligible for benefits disenrolled. And a rise in uninsured tribal members undercuts their health systems, threatening the already tenuous access to care in Native communities.
One teenager, Melli recalled, lost coverage while seeking lifesaving care. Routine lab work raised flags, and in follow-ups Melli discovered the girl had a condition that could have killed her if untreated. Melli did not disclose details, to protect the patient’s privacy.
Melli said she spent weeks working with tribal nurses to coordinate lab monitoring and consultations with specialists for her patient. It wasn’t until the teen went to a specialist that Melli received a call saying she had been dropped from Medicaid coverage.
The girl’s parents told Melli they had reapplied to Medicaid a month earlier but hadn’t heard back. Melli’s patient eventually got the medication she needed with help from a pharmacist. The unwinding presented an unnecessary and burdensome obstacle to care.
Pat Flowers, Montana Democratic Senate minority leader, said during a political event in early April that 13,000 tribal members had been disenrolled in the state.
Native American and Alaska Native adults are enrolled in Medicaid at higher rates than their white counterparts, yet some tribal leaders still didn’t know exactly how many of their members had been disenrolled as of a survey conducted in February and March. The Tribal Self-Governance Advisory Committee of the Indian Health Service conducted and published the survey. Respondents included tribal leaders from Alaska, Arizona, Idaho, Montana, and New Mexico, among other states.
Tribal leaders reported many challenges related to the redetermination, including a lack of timely information provided to tribal members, patients unaware of the process or their disenrollment, long processing times, lack of staffing at the tribal level, lack of communication from their states, concerns with obtaining accurate tribal data, and in cases in which states have shared data, difficulties interpreting it.
Research and policy experts initially feared that vulnerable populations, including rural Indigenous communities and families of color, would experience greater and unique obstacles to renewing their health coverage and would be disproportionately harmed.
“They have a lot at stake and a lot to lose in this process,” said Joan Alker, executive director of the Georgetown University Center for Children and Families and a research professor at the McCourt School of Public Policy. “I fear that that prediction is coming true.”
Cammie DuPuis-Pablo, tribal health communications director for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes in Montana, said the tribes don’t have an exact number of their members disenrolled since the redetermination began, but know some who lost coverage as far back as July still haven’t been reenrolled.
The tribes hosted their first outreach event in late April as part of their effort to help members through the process. The health care resource division is meeting people at home, making calls, and planning more events.
The tribes receive a list of members’ Medicaid status each month, DuPuis-Pablo said, but a list of those no longer insured by Medicaid would be more helpful.
Because of those data deficits, it’s unclear how many tribal members have been disenrolled.
“We are at the mercy of state Medicaid agencies on what they’re willing to share,” said Yvonne Myers, consultant on the Affordable Care Act and Medicaid for Citizen Potawatomi Nation Health Services in Oklahoma.
In Alaska, tribal health leaders struck a data-sharing agreement with the state in July but didn’t begin receiving information about their members’ coverage for about a month — at which point more than 9,500 Alaskans had already been disenrolled for procedural reasons.
“We already lost those people,” said Gennifer Moreau-Johnson, senior policy adviser in the Department of Intergovernmental Affairs at the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium, a nonprofit organization. “That’s a real impact.”
Because federal regulations don’t require states to track or report race and ethnicity data for people they disenroll, fewer than 10 states collect such information. While the data from these states does not show a higher rate of loss of coverage by race, a KFF report states that the data is limited and that a more accurate picture would require more demographic reporting from more states.
Tribal health leaders are concerned that a high number of disenrollments among their members is financially undercutting their health systems and ability to provide care.
“Just because they’ve fallen off Medicaid doesn’t mean we stop serving them,” said Jim Roberts, senior executive liaison in the Department of Intergovernmental Affairs of the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium. “It means we’re more reliant on other sources of funding to provide that care that are already underresourced.”
Three in 10 Native American and Alaska Native people younger than 65 rely on Medicaid, compared with 15% of their white counterparts. The Indian Health Service is responsible for providing care to approximately 2.6 million of the 9.7 million Native Americans and Alaska Natives in the U.S., but services vary across regions, clinics, and health centers. The agency itself has been chronically underfunded and unable to meet the needs of the population. For fiscal year 2024, Congress approved $6.96 billion for IHS, far less than the $51.4 billion tribal leaders called for.
Because of that historical deficit, tribal health systems lean on Medicaid reimbursement and other third-party payers, like Medicare, the Department of Veterans Affairs, and private insurance, to help fill the gap. Medicaid accounted for two-thirds of third-party IHS revenues as of 2021.
Some tribal health systems receive more federal funding through Medicaid than from IHS, Roberts said.
Tribal health leaders fear diminishing Medicaid dollars will exacerbate the long-standing health disparities — such as lower life expectancy, higher rates of chronic disease, and inferior access to care — that plague Native Americans.
The unwinding has become “all-consuming,” said Monique Martin, vice president of intergovernmental affairs for the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium.
“The state’s really having that focus be right into the minutiae of administrative tasks, like: How do we send text messages to 7,000 people?” Martin said. “We would much rather be talking about: How do we address social determinants of health?”
When doctors began using the drug sotorasib in 2021 with high expectations for its innovative approach to attacking lung cancer, retired medical technician Don Crosslin was an early beneficiary. Crosslin started the drug that July. His tumors shrank, then stabilized.
But while the drug has helped keep him alive, its side effects have gradually narrowed the confines of his life, said Crosslin, 76, who lives in Ocala, Florida: "My appetite has been minimal. I'm very weak. I walk my dogs and get around a bit, but I haven't been able to golf since last July."
He wonders whether he'd do better on a lower dose, "but I do what my oncologist tells me to do," Crosslin said. Every day, he takes eight of the 120-milligram pills, sold under Amgen's brand name Lumakras.
Crosslin's concern lies at the heart of an FDA effort to make cancer drugs less toxic and more effective. Cancer drug trials are structured to promote high doses, which then become routine patient care. In the face of evidence that thousands of patients become so ill that they skip doses or stop taking the drugs — thereby risking resurgence of their cancers — the FDA has begun requiring companies to pinpoint the right dosage before they reach patients.
The initiative, Project Optimus, launched in 2021 just as Amgen was seeking to market sotorasib. At the time, the FDA's leading cancer drug regulator, Richard Pazdur, co-authored an editorial in the New England Journal of Medicine that said Amgen's trials of the $20,000-a-month drug were "hampered by a lack of robust dose exploration."
The FDA conditionally approved sotorasib but required Amgen to conduct a study comparing the labeled dosage of 960 mg with a dosage of 240 mg. The trial, published in November, showed that the 960-mg dose may have given patients a month more of life, on average, but caused more severe side effects than the lower dose.
Amgen is keeping the 960-mg dosage as it conducts further tests to get final approval for the drug, spokesperson Elissa Snook said, adding that the dose showed superiority in one study. Whether medically justified or not, the heavier dosage allows the company to protect 75% of its revenue from the drug, which brought in nearly $200 million in the United States last year.
And there appears to be nothing the FDA can do about it.
"There's a gap in FDA's authority that results in patients getting excess doses of a drug at excess costs," said Mark Ratain, a University of Chicago oncologist who has pushed for more accurate cancer drug dosing. "We should do something about this."
Deciding on Dosage
It may be too late for the FDA to change the sotorasib dosage, although in principle it could demand a new regimen before granting final approval, perhaps in 2028. Under Project Optimus, however, the agency is doing something about dosage guidelines for future drugs. It is stressing dose optimization in its meetings with companies, particularly as they prepare to test drugs on patients for the first time, spokesperson Lauren-Jei McCarthy said.
"When you go in front of FDA with a plan to approve your drug now, they are going to address dosing studies," said Julie Gralow, chief medical officer of the American Society of Clinical Oncology. "A lot of companies are struggling with this."
That's largely because the new requirements add six months to a year and millions in drug development costs, said Julie Bullock, a former FDA drug reviewer who advocated for more extensive dosing studies and is now senior vice president at Certara, a drug development consultancy.
In part, Project Optimus represents an effort to manage the faults of the FDA's accelerated approval process, begun in 1992. While the process gets innovative drugs to patients more quickly, some medicines have proved lackluster or had unacceptable side effects.
That's especially true of the newer pills to treat cancer, said Donald Harvey, an Emory University pharmacology professor, who has led or contributed to more than 100 early-phase cancer trials.
A study released last month in the Journal of the American Medical Association showed that 41% of the cancer drugs granted accelerated approval from 2013 to 2017 did not improve overall survival or quality of life after five years.
Many of these drugs flop because they must be given at toxic dosages to have any effect, Harvey said, adding that sotorasib might work better if the company had found an appropriate dosage earlier on.
"Sotorasib is a poster child for incredibly bad development," Harvey said. The drug was the first to target the KRAS G12C mutation, which drives about 15% of lung cancers and was considered "undruggable" until University of California-San Francisco chemist Kevan Shokat figured out how to attack it in 2012.
Given the specificity of sotorasib's target, Harvey said, Amgen could have found a lower dosage. "Instead, they followed the old model and said, ‘We're going to push the dose up until we see a major side effect.' They didn't need to do that. They just needed more experience with a lower dose."
The 960-mg dose "is really tough on patients," said Yale University oncologist and assistant professor Michael Grant. "They get a lot of nausea and other GI side effects that are not pleasant. It hurts their quality of life."
The FDA noted in its review of sotorasib that in phase 1 studies tumors shrank when exposed to as little as a fifth of the 960-mg daily dose Amgen selected. At all doses tested in that early trial, the drug reached roughly the same concentrations in the blood, which suggested that at higher doses the drug was mostly just intensifying side effects like diarrhea, vomiting, and mouth sores.
For most classes of drugs, companies spend considerable time in phases 1 and 2 of development, homing in on the right dosage. "No one would think of dosing a statin or antibiotic at the highest tolerable dose," Ratain said.
Things are different in cancer drug creation, whose approach originated with chemotherapy, which damages as many cancer cells as possible, wrecking plenty of healthy tissue in the bargain. Typically, a company's first series of cancer drug trials involve escalating doses in small groups of patients until something like a quarter of them get seriously ill. That "maximum tolerated dose" is then employed in more advanced clinical trials, and goes on the drug's label. Once a drug is approved, a doctor can "go off-label" and alter the dosage, but most are leery of doing so.
Patients can find the experience rougher than advertised. During clinical trials, the side effects of the cancer drug osimertinib (Tagrisso) were listed as tolerable and manageable, said Jill Feldman, a lung cancer patient and advocate. "That killed me. After two months on that drug, I had lost 15 pounds, had sores in my mouth and down my throat, stomach stuff. It was horrible."
Some practitioners, at least, have responded to the FDA's cues on sotorasib. In the Kaiser Permanente health system, lung cancer specialists start with a lower dose of the drug, spokesperson Stephen Shivinsky said.
Smaller Doses — And Revenue
Amgen was clearly aware of the advantages of the 240-mg dosage before it sought FDA approval: It filed a provisional patent application on that dosage before the agency gave breakthrough approval for the drug at 960 mg. The company doesn't appear to have disclosed the patent filing to investors or the FDA. McCarthy said the FDA was prohibited by law from discussing the particulars of its sotorasib regulation plans.
Switching to a 240-mg dosage could register a huge hit to Amgen's revenue. The company markets the drug at more than $20,000 for a month of 960-mg daily doses. Each patient who could get by with a quarter of that would trim the company's revenue by roughly $180,000 a year.
Amgen declined to comment on the patent issue or to make an official available to discuss the dosage and pricing issues.
Crosslin, who depends on Social Security for his income, couldn't afford the $3,000 a month that Medicare required him to pay for sotorasib, but he has received assistance from Amgen and a charity that covers costs for patients below a certain income.
While the drug has worked well for Crosslin and other patients, its overall modest impact on lung cancer suggests that $5,000, rather than $20,000, might be a more appropriate price, Ratain said.
In the company's phase 3 clinical trial for advanced lung cancer patients, sotorasib kept patients alive for about a month longer than docetaxel, the current, highly toxic standard of care. Docetaxel is a generic drug for which Medicare pays about $1 per injection. The trial was so unconvincing that the FDA sent Amgen back to do another.
Ratain, a staunch critic of Amgen's handling of sotorasib, told Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services officials at a recent meeting that they should pay for sotorasib on a basis of 240 mg per day. But CMS would do that only "if there is a change in the drug's FDA-approved dosage," spokesperson Aaron Smith said.
Drug companies generally don't want to spend money on trials like the one the FDA ordered on sotorasib. In 2018, Ratain and other researchers used their institutions' funding to conduct a dosing trial on the prostate cancer drug abiraterone, marketed under the brand name Zytiga by Johnson & Johnson. They found that taking one 250-mg pill with food was just as effective as taking four on an empty stomach, as the label called for.
Although J&J hasn't changed the Zytiga label, the evidence generated in that trial was strong enough for the standards-setting National Comprehensive Cancer Network to change its recommendations.
Post-marketing studies like that one are hard to conduct, Emory's Harvey said. Patients are reluctant to join a trial in which they may have to take a lower dosage, since most people tend to believe "the more the better," he said.
"It's better for everyone to find the right dose before a drug is out on the market," Harvey said. "Better for the patient, and better for the company, which can sell more of a good drug if the patients aren't getting sick and no longer taking it."
President Joe Biden counts among his accomplishments the record-high number of people, more than 21 million, who enrolled in Obamacare plans this year. Behind the scenes, however, federal regulators are contending with a problem that affects people's coverage: rogue brokers who have signed people up for Affordable Care Act plans, or switched them into new ones, without their permission.
Fighting the problem presents tension for the administration: how to thwart the bad actors without affecting ACA sign-ups.
Complaints about these unauthorized changes — which can cause affected policyholders to lose access to medical care, pay higher deductibles, or even incur surprise tax bills — rose sharply in recent months, according to brokers who contacted KFF Health News and federal workers who asked not to be identified.
Ronnell Nolan, president and CEO of the trade association Health Agents for America, said her group has suggested to the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services that it add two-factor authentication to healthcare.gov or send text alerts to consumers if an agent tries to access their accounts. But the agency told her it doesn't always have up-to-date contact information.
"We've given them a whole host of ideas," she said. "They say, ‘Be careful what you wish for.' But we don't mind going an extra step if you can stop this fraud and abuse, because clients are being hurt."
Some consumers are pursued when they respond to misleading social media marketing ads promising government subsidies, but most have no idea how they fell victim to plan-switching. Problems seem concentrated in the 32 states using the federal exchange.
Federal regulators have declined to say how many complaints about unauthorized sign-ups or plan switches they've received, or how many insurance agents they've sanctioned as a result. But the problem is big enough that CMS says it's working on technological and regulatory solutions. Affected consumers and agents have filed a civil lawsuit in federal district court in Florida against private-sector firms allegedly involved in unauthorized switching schemes.
Biden has pushed hard to make permanent the enhanced subsidies first put in place during the covid pandemic that, along with other steps including increased federal funding for outreach, helped fuel the strong enrollment growth. Biden contrasts his support for the ACA with the stance of former President Donald Trump, who supported attempts to repeal most of the law and presided over funding cuts and declining enrollment.
Most proposed solutions to the rogue-agent problem involve making it more difficult for agents to access policyholder information or requiring wider use of identity questions tied to enrollees' credit history. The latter could be stumbling blocks for low-income people or those with limited financial records, said Sabrina Corlette, co-director of the Center on Health Insurance Reforms at Georgetown University.
"That is the knife edge the administration has to walk," said Corlette, "protecting consumers from fraudulent behavior while at the same time making sure there aren't too many barriers."
Jeff Wu, acting director of the Center for Consumer Information & Insurance Oversight, said in a statement that the agency is evaluating options on such factors as how effective they would be, their impact on consumers' ability to enroll, and how fast they could be implemented.
The agency is also working closely, he wrote, with insurance companies, state insurance departments, and law enforcement "so that agents violating CMS rules or committing fraud face consequences." And it is reaching out to states that run their own ACA markets for ideas.
That's because Washington, D.C., and the 18 states that run their own ACA marketplaces have reported far fewer complaints about unauthorized enrollment and plan-switching. Most include layers of security in addition to those the federal marketplace has in place — some use two-factor authentication — before agents can access policyholder information.
California, for example, allows consumers to designate an agent and to "log in and add or remove an agent at will," said Robert Kingston, interim director of outreach and sales for Covered California, the state's ACA marketplace. The state can also send consumers a one-time passcode to share with an agent of their choice. Consumers in Colorado and Pennsylvania can similarly designate specific agents to access their accounts.
By contrast, agents can more easily access policyholder information when using private-sector websites that link them to the federal ACA market — all they need is a person's name, date of birth, and state of residence — to enroll them or switch their coverage.
CMS has approved dozens of such "enhanced direct enrollment" websites run by private companies, which are designed to make it easier and faster for agents certified to offer insurance through healthcare.gov.
Rules went into effect last June requiring agents to get written or recorded consent from clients before enrolling them or changing their coverage, but brokers say they're rarely asked to produce the documentation. If CMS makes changes to healthcare.gov — such as adding passcodes, as California has — it would need to require all alternative-enrollment partners to do the same.
The largest is San Francisco-based HealthSherpa, which assisted 52% of active enrollments nationally for this year, said CEO George Kalogeropoulos.
The company has a 10-person fraud investigation team, he said, which has seen "a significant spike in concerns about unauthorized switching." They report problems to state insurance departments, insurance carriers, and federal regulators "and refer consumers to advocates on our team to make sure their plans are corrected."
Solutions must be "targeted," he said. "The issue with some of the solutions proposed is it negatively impacts the ability of all consumers to get enrolled."
Most people who sign up for ACA plans are aided by agents or platforms like HealthSherpa, rather than doing it themselves or seeking help from nonprofit organizations. Brokers don't charge consumers; instead, they receive commissions from insurers participating in state and federal marketplaces for each person they enroll in a plan.
While California officials say their additional layers of authentication have not noticeably affected enrollment numbers, the state's recent enrollment growth has been slower than in states served by healthcare.gov.
Still, Covered California's Kingston pointed to a decreased number of uninsured people in the state. In 2014, when much of the ACA was implemented, 12.5% of Californians were uninsured, falling to 6.5% in 2022, according to data compiled by KFF. That year, the share of people uninsured nationwide was 8%.
Corlette said insurers have a role to play, as do states and CMS.
"Are there algorithms that can say, ‘This is a broker with outlier behavior'?" Insurance companies could then withhold commissions "until they can figure it out," she said.
Kelley Schultz, vice president of commercial policy at AHIP, the trade association for large insurance companies, said sharing more information from the government marketplace about which policies are being switched could help insurers spot patterns.
CMS could also set limits on plan switches, as there is generally no legitimate need for multiple changes in a given month, Schultz said.
Every day, the scene plays out in hospitals across America: Older men and women lie on gurneys in emergency room corridors moaning or suffering silently as harried medical staff attend to crises.
Even when physicians determine these patients need to be admitted to the hospital, they often wait for hours — sometimes more than a day — in the ER in pain and discomfort, not getting enough food or water, not moving around, not being helped to the bathroom, and not getting the kind of care doctors deem necessary.
"You walk through ER hallways, and they're lined from end to end with patients on stretchers in various states of distress calling out for help, including a number of older patients," said Hashem Zikry, an emergency medicine physician at UCLA Health.
Physicians who staff emergency rooms say this problem, known as ER boarding, is as bad as it's ever been — even worse than during the first years of the covid-19 pandemic, when hospitals filled with desperately ill patients.
While boarding can happen to all ER patients, adults 65 and older, who account for nearly 20% of ER visits, are especially vulnerable during long waits for care. Also, seniors may encounter boarding more often than other patients. The best estimates I could find, published in 2019, before the covid-19 pandemic, suggest that 10% of patients were boarded in ERs before receiving hospital care. About 30% to 50% of these patients were older adults.
"It's a public health crisis," said Aisha Terry, an associate professor of emergency medicine at George Washington University School of Medicine and Health Sciences and the president of the board of the American College of Emergency Physicians, which sponsored a summit on boarding in September.
What's going on? I spoke to almost a dozen doctors and researchers who described the chaotic situation in ERs. They told me staff shortages in hospitals, which affect the number of beds available, are contributing to the crisis. Also, they explained, hospital administrators are setting aside more beds for patients undergoing lucrative surgeries and other procedures, contributing to bottlenecks in ERs and leaving more patients in limbo.
Then, there's high demand for hospital services, fueled in part by the aging of the U.S. population, and backlogs in discharging patients because of growing problems securing home healthcare and nursing home care, according to Arjun Venkatesh, chair of emergency medicine at the Yale School of Medicine.
The impact of long ER waits on seniors who are frail, with multiple medical issues, is especially serious. Confined to stretchers, gurneys, or even hard chairs, often without dependable aid from nurses, they're at risk of losing strength, forgoing essential medications, and experiencing complications such as delirium, according to Saket Saxena, a co-director of the geriatric emergency department at the Cleveland Clinic.
When these patients finally secure a hospital bed, their stays are longer and medical complications more common. And new research finds that the risk of dying in the hospital is significantly higher for older adults when they stay in ERs overnight, as is the risk of adverse events such as falls, infections, bleeding, heart attacks, strokes, and bedsores.
Ellen Danto-Nocton, a geriatrician in Milwaukee, was deeply concerned when an 88-year-old relative with "strokelike symptoms" spent two days in the ER a few years ago. Delirious, immobile, and unable to sleep as alarms outside his bed rang nonstop, the older man spiraled downward before he was moved to a hospital room. "He really needed to be in a less chaotic environment," Danto-Nocton said.
Several weeks ago, Zikry of UCLA Health helped care for a 70-year-old woman who'd fallen and broken her hip while attending a basketball game. "She was in a corner of our ER for about 16 hours in an immense amount of pain that was very difficult to treat adequately," he said. ERs are designed to handle crises and stabilize patients, not to "take care of patients who we've already decided need to be admitted to the hospital," he said.
How common is ER boarding and where is it most acute? No one knows, because hospitals aren't required to report data about boarding publicly. The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services retired a measure of boarding in 2021. New national measures of emergency care capacity have been proposed but not yet approved.
"It's not just the extent of ED boarding that we need to understand. It's the extent of acute hospital capacity in our communities," said Venkatesh of Yale, who helped draft the new measures.
In the meantime, some hospital systems are publicizing their plight by highlighting capacity constraints and the need for more hospital beds. Among them is Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, which announced in January that ER boarding had risen 32% from October 2022 to September 2023. At the end of that period, patients admitted to the hospital spent a median of 14 hours in the ER and 26% spent more than 24 hours.
Maura Kennedy, Mass General's chief of geriatric emergency medicine, described an 80-something woman with a respiratory infection who languished in the ER for more than 24 hours after physicians decided she needed inpatient hospital care.
"She wasn't mobilized, she had nothing to cognitively engage her, she hadn't eaten, and she became increasingly agitated, trying to get off the stretcher and arguing with staff," Kennedy told me. "After a prolonged hospital stay, she left the hospital more disabled than she was when she came in."
When I asked ER doctors what older adults could do about these problems, they said boarding is a health system issue that needs health system and policy changes. Still, they had several suggestions.
"Have another person there with you to advocate on your behalf," said Jesse Pines, chief of clinical innovation at US Acute Care Solutions, the nation's largest physician-owned emergency medicine practice. And have that person speak up if they feel you're getting worse or if staffers are missing problems.
Alexander Janke, a clinical instructor of emergency medicine at the University of Michigan, advises people, "Be prepared to wait when you come to an ER" and "bring a medication list and your medications, if you can."
To stay oriented and reduce the possibility of delirium, "make sure you have your hearing aids and eyeglasses with you," said Michael Malone, medical director of senior services for Advocate Aurora Health, a 20-hospital system in Wisconsin and northern Illinois. "Whenever possible, try to get up and move around."
Friends or family caregivers who accompany older adults to the ER should ask to be at their bedside, when possible, and "try to make sure they eat, drink, get to the bathroom, and take routine medications for underlying medical conditions," Malone said.
Older adults or caregivers who are helping them should try to bring "things that would engage you cognitively: magazines, books … music, anything that you might focus on in a hallway where there isn't a TV to entertain you," Kennedy said.
"Experienced patients often show up with eye masks and ear plugs" to help them rest in ERs with nonstop stimulation, said Zikry of UCLA. "Also, bring something to eat and drink in case you can't get to the cafeteria or it's a while before staffers bring these to you."
We're eager to hear from readers about questions you'd like answered, problems you've been having with your care, and advice you need in dealing with the healthcare system. Visit kffhealthnews.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.
Private Medicaid health plans lost millions of members in the past year as pandemic protections that prohibited states from dropping anyone from the government program expired.
But despite Medicaid's unwinding, as it's known, at least two of the five largest publicly traded companies selling plans have continued to increase revenue from the program, according to their latest earnings reports.
"It's a very interesting paradox," said Andy Schneider, a research professor at Georgetown University's McCourt School of Public Policy, of plans' Medicaid revenue increasing despite enrollment drops.
Medicaid, the state-federal health program for low-income and disabled people, is administered by states. But most people enrolled in the program get their healthcare through insurers contracted by states, including UnitedHealthcare, Centene, and Molina.
The companies persuaded states to pay them more money per Medicaid enrollee under the assumption that younger and healthier people were dropping out — presumably for Obamacare coverage or employer-based health insurance, or because they didn't see the need to get coverage — leaving behind an older and sicker population to cover, their executives have told investors.
Several of the companies reported that states have made midyear and retrospective changes in their payments to plans to account for the worsening health status of members.
In an earnings call with analysts on April 25, Molina Healthcare CEO Joe Zubretsky said 19 states increased their payment rates this year to adjust for sicker Medicaid enrollees. "States have been very responsive," Zubretsky said. "We couldn't be more pleased with the way our state customers have responded to having rates be commensurate with normal cost trends and trends that have been influenced by the acuity shift."
Health plans have faced much uncertainty during the Medicaid unwinding, as states began reassessing enrollees' eligibility and dropping those deemed no longer qualified or who lost coverage because of procedural errors. Before the unwinding, plans said they expected the overall risk profile of their members to go up because those remaining in the program would be sicker.
UnitedHealthcare, Centene, and Molina had Medicaid revenue increases ranging from 3% to 18% in 2023, according to KFF. The two other large Medicaid insurers, Elevance and CVS Health, do not break out Medicaid-specific revenue.
The Medicaid enrollment of the five companies collectively declined by about 10% from the end of March 2023 through the end of December 2023, from 44.2 million people to 39.9 million, KFF data shows.
In the first quarter of 2024, UnitedHealth's Medicaid revenue rose to $20.5 billion, up from $18.8 billion in the same quarter of 2023.
Molina on April 24 reported nearly $7.5 billion in Medicaid revenue in the first quarter of 2024, up from $6.3 billion in the same quarter a year earlier.
On April 26, Centene reported that its Medicaid enrollment fell 18.5% to 13.3 million in the first quarter of 2024 compared with the same period a year ago. The company's Medicaid revenue dipped 3% to $22.2 billion.
Unlike UnitedHealthcare, whose Medicaid enrollment fell to 7.7 million in March 2024 from 8.4 million a year prior, Molina's Medicaid enrollment rose in the first quarter of 2024 to 5.1 million from 4.8 million in March 2023. Molina's enrollment jump last year was partly a result of its having bought a Medicaid plan in Wisconsin and gained a new Medicaid contract in Iowa, the company said in its earnings news release.
Molina added 1 million members because states were prohibited from terminating Medicaid coverage during the pandemic. The company has lost 550,000 of those people during the unwinding and expects to lose an additional 50,000 by June.
About 90% of Molina Medicaid members have gone through the redetermination process, Zubretsky said.
The corporate giants also offset the enrollment losses by getting more Medicaid money from states, which they use to pass on higher payments to certain facilities or providers, Schneider said. By holding the money temporarily, the companies can count these "directed payments" as revenue.
Medicaid health plans were big winners during the pandemic after the federal government prohibited states from dropping people from the program, leading to a surge in enrollment to about 93 million Americans.
States made efforts to limit health plans' profits by clawing back some payments above certain thresholds, said Elizabeth Hinton, an associate director at KFF.
But once the prohibition on dropping Medicaid enrollees was lifted last spring, the plans faced uncertainty. It was unclear how many people would lose coverage or when it would happen. Since the unwinding began, more than 20 million people have been dropped from the rolls.
Medicaid enrollees' healthcare costs were lower during the pandemic, and some states decided to exclude pandemic-era cost data as they considered how to set payment rates for 2024. That provided yet another win for the Medicaid health plans.
Most states are expected to complete their Medicaid unwinding processes this year.
With little pomp, California launched two apps at the start of the year offering free behavioral health services to youths to help them cope with everything from living with anxiety to body acceptance.
Through their phones, young people and some caregivers can meet BrightLife Kids and Soluna coaches, some who specialize in peer support or substance use disorders, for roughly 30-minute virtual counseling sessions that are best suited to those with more mild needs, typically those without a clinical diagnosis. The apps also feature self-directed activities, such as white noise sessions, guided breathing, and videos of ocean waves to help users relax.
"We believe they're going to have not just great impact, but wide impact across California, especially in places where maybe it's not so easy to find an in-person behavioral health visit or the kind of coaching and supports that parents and young people need," said Gov. Gavin Newsom's health secretary, Mark Ghaly, during the Jan. 16 announcement.
The apps represent one of the Democratic governor's major forays into health technology and come with four-year contracts valued at $498 million. California is believed to be the first state to offer a mental health app with free coaching to all young residents, according to the Department of Health Care Services, which operates the program.
However, the rollout has been slow. So slow that one of the companies has missed a deadline to make its app available on Android phones. Only about 15,000 of the state's 12.6 million children and young adults have signed up for the apps, and school counselors say they've never heard of them.
Advocates for youth question the wisdom of investing taxpayer dollars in two private companies. Social workers are concerned the companies' coaches won't properly identify youths who need referrals for clinical care. And the spending is drawing lawmaker scrutiny amid a state deficit pegged at as much as $73 billion.
An App for That
Newsom's administration says the apps fill a need for young Californians and their families to access professional telehealth for free, in multiple languages, and outside of standard 9-to-5 hours. It's part of Newsom's sweeping $4.7 billion master plan for kids' mental health, which was introduced in 2022 to increase access to mental health and substance use support services. In addition to launching virtual tools such as the teletherapy apps, the initiative is working to expand workforce capacity, especially in underserved areas.
"The reality is that we are rarely 6 feet away from our devices," said Sohil Sud, director of Newsom's Children and Youth Behavioral Health Initiative. "The question is how we can leverage technology as a resource for all California youth and families, not in place of, but in addition to, other behavioral health services that are being developed and expanded."
The virtual platforms come amid rising depression and suicide rates among youth and a shortage of mental health providers. Nearly half of California youths from the ages of 12 to 17 report having recently struggled with mental health issues, with nearly a third experiencing serious psychological distress, according to a 2021 study by the UCLA Center for Health Policy Research. These rates are even higher for multiracial youths and those from low-income families.
But those supporting youth mental health at the local level question whether the apps will move the needle on climbing depression and suicide rates.
"It's fair to applaud the state of California for aggressively seeking new tools," said Alex Briscoe of California Children's Trust, a statewide initiative that, along with more than 100 local partners, works to improve the social and emotional health of children. "We just don't see it as fundamental. And we don't believe the youth mental health crisis will be solved by technology projects built by a professional class who don't share the lived experience of marginalized communities."
The apps, BrightLife Kids and Soluna, are operated by two companies: Brightline, a 5-year-old venture capital-backed startup; and Kooth, a London-based publicly traded company that has experience in the U.K. and has also signed on some schools in Kentucky and Pennsylvania and a health plan in Illinois. In the first five months of Kooth's Pennsylvania pilot, 6% of students who had access to the app signed up.
Brightline and Kooth represent a growing number of health tech firms seeking to profit in this space. They beat out dozens of other bidders including international consulting companies and other youth telehealth platforms that had already snapped up contracts in California.
Although the service is intended to be free with no insurance requirement, Brightline's app, BrightLife Kids, is folded into and only accessible through the company's main app, which asks for insurance information and directs users to paid licensed counseling options alongside the free coaching. After KFF Health News questioned why the free coaching was advertised below paid options, Brightline reordered the page so that, even if a child has high-acuity needs, free coaching shows up first.
The apps take an expansive view of behavioral health, making the tools available to all California youth under age 26 as well as caregivers of babies, toddlers, and children 12 and under. When KFF Health News asked to speak with an app user, Brightline connected a reporter with a mother whose 3-year-old daughter was learning to sleep on her own.
'It's Like Crickets'
Despite being months into the launch and having millions in marketing funds, the companies don't have a definitive rollout timeline. Brightline said it hopes to have deployed teams across the state to present the tools in person by midyear. Kooth said developing a strategy to hit every school would be "the main focus for this calendar year."
"It's a big state — 58 counties," Bob McCullough of Kooth said. "It'll take us a while to get to all of them."
Brightline's contract states that the company was required to launch downloadable apps for iOS and Android phones by January, but so far BrightLife Kids is available only on Apple phones. Brightline said it's aiming to launch the Android version over the summer.
"Nobody's really done anything like this at this magnitude, I think, in the U.S. before," said Naomi Allen, a co-founder and the CEO of Brightline. "We're very much in the early innings. We're already learning a lot."
The contracts, obtained by KFF Health News through a records request, show the companies operating the two apps could earn as much as $498 million through the contract term, which ends in June 2027, months after Newsom is set to leave office. And the state is spending hundreds of millions more on Newsom's virtual behavioral health strategy. The state said it aims to make the apps available long-term, depending on usage.
The state said 15,000 people signed up in the first three months. When KFF Health News asked how many of those users actively engaged with the app, it declined to say, noting that data would be released this summer.
KFF Health News reached out to nearly a dozen California mental health professionals and youths. None of them were aware of the apps.
"I'm not hearing anything," said Loretta Whitson, executive director of the California Association of School Counselors. "It's like crickets."
Whitson said she doesn't think the apps are on "anyone's" radar in schools, and she doesn't know of any schools that are actively advertising them. Brightline will be presenting its tool to the counselor association in May, but Whitson said the company didn't reach out to plan the meeting; she did.
Concern Over Referrals
Whitson isn't comfortable promoting the apps just yet. Although both companies said they have a clinical team on staff to assist, Whitson said she's concerned that the coaches, who aren't all licensed therapists, won't have the training to detect when users need more help and refer them to clinical care.
This sentiment was echoed by other school-based social workers, who also noted the apps' duplicative nature — in some counties, like Los Angeles, youths can access free virtual counseling sessions through Hazel Health, a for-profit company. Nonprofits, too, have entered this space. For example, Teen Line, a peer-to-peer hotline operated by Southern California-based Didi Hirsch Mental Health Services, is free nationwide.
While the state is also funneling money to the schools as part of Newsom's master plan, students and school-based mental health professionals voiced confusion at the large app investment when, in many school districts, few in-person counseling roles exist, and in some cases are dwindling.
Kelly Merchant, a student at College of the Desert in Palm Desert, noted that it can be hard to access in-person therapy at her school. She believes the community college, which has about 15,000 students, has only one full-time counselor and one part-time bilingual counselor. She and several students interviewed by KFF Health News said they appreciated having engaging content on their phone and the ability to speak to a coach, but all said they'd prefer in-person therapy.
"There are a lot of people who are seeking therapy, and people close to me that I know. But their insurances are taking forever, and they're on the waitlist," Merchant said. "And, like, you're seeing all these people struggle."
Fiscal conservatives question whether the money could be spent more effectively, like to bolster county efforts and existing youth behavioral health programs.
Republican state Sen. Roger Niello, vice chair of the Senate Budget and Fiscal Review Committee, noted that California is forecasted to face deficits for the next three years, and taxpayer watchdogs worry the apps might cost even more in the long run.
"What starts as a small financial commitment can become uncontrollable expenses down the road," said Susan Shelley of the Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Association.
New technologies are making it easier for companies to fix prices and discriminate against individual consumers, the Biden administration's top consumer watchdog said Tuesday.
Algorithms make it possible for companies to fix prices without explicitly coordinating with one another, posing a new test for regulators policing the market, said Lina Khan, chair of the Federal Trade Commission, during a media event hosted by KFF.
"I think we could be entering a somewhat novel era of pricing," Khan told reporters.
Khan is regarded as one of the most aggressive antitrust regulators in recent U.S. history, and she has paid particular attention to the harm that technological advances can pose to consumers. Antitrust regulators at the FTC and the Justice Department set a record for merger challenges in the fiscal year that ended Sept. 30, 2022, according to Bloomberg News.
Last year, the FTC successfully blocked biotech company Illumina's over $7 billion acquisition of cancer-screening company Grail. The FTC, Justice Department, and Health and Human Services Department launched a website on April 18, healthycompetition.gov, to make it easier for people to report suspected anticompetitive behavior in the health care industry.
The American Hospital Association, the industry's largest trade group, has often criticized the Biden administration's approach to antitrust enforcement. In comments in September on proposed guidance the FTC and Justice Department published for companies, the AHA said that "the guidelines reflect a fundamental hostility to mergers."
Price fixing removes competition from the market and generally makes goods and services more expensive. The agency has argued in court filings that price fixing "is still illegal even if you are achieving it through an algorithm," Khan said. "There's no kind of algorithmic exemption to the antitrust laws."
By simply using the same algorithms to set prices, companies can effectively charge the same "even if they're not, you know, getting in a back room and kind of shaking hands and setting a price," Khan said, using the example of residential property managers.
Khan said the commission is also scrutinizing the use of artificial intelligence and algorithms to set prices for individual consumers "based on all of this particular behavioral data about you: the websites you visited, you know, who you had lunch with, where you live."
And as health care companies change the way they structure their businesses to maximize profits, the FTC is changing the way it analyzes behavior that could hurt consumers, Khan said.
Hiring people who can "help us look under the hood" of some inscrutable algorithms was a priority, Khan said. She said it's already paid off in the form of legal actions "that are only possible because we had technologists on the team helping us figure out what are these algorithms doing."
Traditionally, the FTC has policed health care by challenging local or regional hospital mergers that have the potential to reduce competition and raise prices. But consolidation in health care has evolved, Khan said.
Mergers of systems that don't overlap geographically are increasing, she said. In addition, hospitals now often buy doctor practices, while pharmacy benefit managers start their own insurance companies or mail-order pharmacies — or vice versa — pursuing "vertical integration" that can hurt consumers, she said.
The FTC is hearing increasing complaints "about how these firms are using their monopoly power" and "exercising it in ways that's resulting in higher prices for patients, less service, as well as worse conditions for health care workers," Khan said.
Policing Noncompetes
Khan said she was surprised at how many health care workers responded to the commission's recent proposal to ban "noncompete" clauses — agreements that can prevent employees from moving to new jobs. The FTC issued its final rule banning the practice on Tuesday. She said the ban was aimed at low-wage industries like fast food but that many of the comments in favor of the FTC's plan came from health professions.
Health workers say noncompete agreements are "both personally devastating and also impeded patient care," Khan said.
In some cases, doctors wrote that their patients "got really upset because they wanted to stick with me, but my hospital was saying I couldn't," Khan said. Some doctors ended up commuting long distances to prevent the rest of their families from having to move after they changed jobs, she said.
Two months after a cyberattack on a UnitedHealth Group subsidiary halted payments to some doctors, medical providers say they're still grappling with the fallout, even though UnitedHealth told shareholders on Tuesday that business is largely back to normal.
"We are still desperately struggling," said Emily Benson, a therapist in Edina, Minnesota, who runs her own practice, Beginnings & Beyond. "This was way more devastating than covid ever was."
Change Healthcare, a business unit of the Minnesota-based insurance giant UnitedHealth Group, controls a digital network so vast it processes nearly 1 in 3 U.S. patient records each year. The network is a critical conduit for shuttling information between most of the nation's insurance companies and medical providers, who submit claims through it to get paid for treating patients.
For Benson, the cyberattack continues to significantly disrupt her business and her ability to pay her seven other clinicians.
Before the hack brought down the system, an insurance company would process a provider's claim, then send a type of receipt known as an "electronic remittance," which details the amount the provider was paid and whether the claim was denied. Without it, providers don't know if they were paid correctly or how much to bill patients.
Now, instead of automatically handling those receipts digitally, some insurers must send forms in the mail. The forms require manual entry, which Benson said is a time-consuming process because it requires her to match up service dates and details to divvy up pay among her clinicians. And from at least one insurer, she said, she has yet to receive any remittances.
"I'm holding on to my sanity by a thread," Benson said.
The situation is so dire, Alex Shteynshlyuger, a urologist who owns a practice in New York City, said he had to transfer money from his personal accounts to pay his office bills.
"Look, I am freaking out," Shteynshlyuger said. "Everyone is freaking out. We are like monkeys in a cage. We can't really do anything about it."
Roughly 30% of his claims were routed through Change's platform. Except for Medicare and certain Blue Cross plans, he said, he has been unable to submit claims or receive payment from any insurers.
The company is encouraging struggling providers to reach out to the company directly via its website, said Tyler Mason, vice president of communications for UnitedHealth Group.
"I don't think we've had a single provider that hasn't been helped that's contacted us." As part of that help, Mason said, UnitedHealth has sent providers $7 billion so far.
Ever since the February cyberattack forced UnitedHealth to disconnect its Change platform, the company has been working "day and night to restore services" and has made "substantial progress," UnitedHealth CEO Andrew Witty told shareholders April 16.
"We see a fairly normal claims receipts and payments flow going on at this point," Chief Financial Officer John Rex said during the shareholder call. "But we'll really want to be careful on that because we know there are certain care providers out there that may have been left out of it."
Rex said the company expects full operations to resume next year.
The company reported that the hacking has already cost it $870 million and that leaders expect the final tally to total at least $1 billion this year. To put that in perspective, the company reported $99.8 billion in revenue for the first quarter of 2024, an 8.6% increase over that period last year.
Meanwhile, the House Energy and Commerce Health Subcommittee held a hearing April 16 seeking answers on the severity and damage the cyberattack caused to the nation's health system.
Subcommittee chair Brett Guthrie (R-Ky.) said a provider in his hometown is still grappling with the fallout from the attack and losing staff because they can't make payroll. Providers "still haven't been made whole," Guthrie said.
Rep. Frank Pallone Jr. (D-N.J.) voiced concern that a "single point of failure" reverberated around the country, disrupting patients' access and providers' financial stability.
Lawmakers expressed frustration that UnitedHealth failed to send a representative to the Capitol to answer their questions. The committee had sent Witty a list of detailed questions ahead of the hearing but was still awaiting answers.
As providers wait, too, they are trying to cover the gaps. To pay her practice's bills, Benson said, she had to take out a nearly $40,000 loan — from a division of UnitedHealth.
A team of Montana researchers is playing a key role in the development of a more effective vaccine against tuberculosis, an infectious disease that has killed more people than any other.
The BCG (Bacille Calmette-Guérin) vaccine, created in 1921, remains the sole TB vaccine. While it is 40% to 80% effective in young children, its efficacy is very low in adolescents and adults, leading to a worldwide push to create a more powerful vaccine.
One effort is underway at the University of Montana Center for Translational Medicine. The center specializes in improving and creating vaccines by adding what are called novel adjuvants. An adjuvant is a substance included in the vaccine, such as fat molecules or aluminum salts, that enhances the immune response, and novel adjuvants are those that have not yet been used in humans. Scientists are finding that adjuvants make for stronger, more precise, and more durable immunity than antigens, which create antibodies, would alone.
Eliciting specific responses from the immune system and deepening and broadening the response with adjuvants is known as precision vaccination. "It's not one-size-fits-all," said Ofer Levy, a professor of pediatrics at Harvard University and the head of the Precision Vaccines Program at Boston Children's Hospital. "A vaccine might work differently in a newborn versus an older adult and a middle-aged person."
The ultimate precision vaccine, said Levy, would be lifelong protection from a disease with one jab. "A single-shot protection against influenza or a single-shot protection against covid, that would be the holy grail," Levy said.
Jay Evans, the director of the University of Montana center and the chief scientific and strategy officer and a co-founder of Inimmune, a privately held biotechnology company in Missoula, said his team has been working on a TB vaccine for 15 years. The private-public partnership is developing vaccines and trying to improve existing vaccines, and he said it's still five years off before the TB vaccine might be distributed widely.
It has not gone unnoticed at the center that this state-of-the-art vaccine research and production is located in a state that passed one of the nation's most extreme anti-vaccination laws during the pandemic in 2021. The law prohibits businesses and governments from discriminating against people who aren't vaccinated against covid-19 or other diseases, effectively banning both public and private employers from requiring workers to get vaccinated against covid or any other disease. A federal judge later ruled that the law cannot be enforced in health care settings, such as hospitals and doctors' offices.
In mid-March, the Bill & Melinda Gates Medical Research Institute announced it had begun the third and final phase of clinical trials for the new vaccine in seven countries. The trials should take about five years to complete. Research and production are being done in several places, including at a manufacturing facility in Hamilton owned by GSK, a giant pharmaceutical company.
Known as the forgotten pandemic, TB kills up to 1.6 million people a year, mostly in impoverished areas in Asia and Africa, despite its being both preventable and treatable. The U.S. has seen an increase in tuberculosis over the past decade, especially with the influx of migrants, and the number of cases rose by 16% from 2022 to 2023. Tuberculosis is the leading cause of death among people living with HIV, whose risk of contracting a TB infection is 20 times as great as people without HIV.
"TB is a complex pathogen that has been with human beings for ages," said Alemnew Dagnew, who heads the program for the new vaccine for the Gates Medical Research Institute. "Because it has been with human beings for many years, it has evolved and has a mechanism to escape the immune system. And the immunology of TB is not fully understood."
The University of Montana Center for Translational Medicine and Inimmune together have 80 employees who specialize in researching a range of adjuvants to understand the specifics of immune responses to different substances. "You have to tailor it like tools in a toolbox towards the pathogen you are vaccinating against," Evans said. "We have a whole library of adjuvant molecules and formulations."
Vaccines are made more precise largely by using adjuvants. There are three basic types of natural adjuvants: aluminum salts; squalene, which is made from shark liver; and some kinds of saponins, which are fat molecules. It's not fully understood how they stimulate the immune system. The center in Missoula has also created and patented a synthetic adjuvant, UM-1098, that drives a specific type of immune response and will be added to new vaccines.
One of the most promising molecules being used to juice up the immune system response to vaccines is a saponin molecule from the bark of the quillay tree, gathered in Chile from trees at least 10 years old. Such molecules were used by Novavax in its covid vaccine and by GSK in its widely used shingles vaccine, Shingrix. These molecules are also a key component in the new tuberculosis vaccine, known as the M72 vaccine.
"The vaccine shows 50% efficacy, which doesn't sound like much, but basically there is no effective vaccine currently, so 50% is better than what's out there," Evans said. "We're looking to take what we learned from that vaccine development with additional adjuvants to try and make it even better and move 50% to 80% or more."
By contrast, measles vaccines are 95% effective.
According to Medscape, around 15 vaccine candidates are being developed to replace the BCG vaccine, and three of them are in phase 3 clinical trials.
One approach Evans' center is researching to improve the new vaccine's efficacy is taking a piece of the bacterium that causes TB, synthesizing it, and combining it with the adjuvant QS-21, made from the quillay tree. "It stimulates the immune system in a way that is specific to TB and it drives an immune response that is even closer to what we get from natural infections," Evans said.
The University of Montana center is researching the treatment of several problems not commonly thought of as treatable with vaccines. They are entering the first phase of clinical trials for a vaccine for allergies, for instance, and first-phase trials for a cancer vaccine. And later this year, clinical trials will begin for vaccines to block the effects of opioids like heroin and fentanyl. The University of Montana received the largest grant in its history, $33 million, for anti-opioid vaccine research. It works by creating an antibody that binds with the drug in the bloodstream, which keeps it from entering the brain and creating the high.
For now, though, the eyes of health care experts around the world are on the trials for the new TB vaccines, which, if they are successful, could help save countless lives in the world's poorest places.
Carrie Lester looks forward to the phone call every Thursday from her doctors' medical assistant, who asks how she's doing and if she needs prescription refills. The assistant counsels her on dealing with anxiety and her other health issues.
Lester credits the chats for keeping her out of the hospital and reducing the need for clinic visits to manage chronic conditions including depression, fibromyalgia, and hypertension.
"Just knowing someone is going to check on me is comforting," said Lester, 73, who lives with her dogs, Sophie and Dolly, in Independence, Kansas.
At least two-thirds of Medicare enrollees have two or more chronic health conditions, federal data shows. That makes them eligible for a federal program that, since 2015, has rewarded doctors for doing more to manage their health outside office visits.
But while early research found the service, called Chronic Care Management, reduced emergency room and in-patient hospital visits and lowered total health spending, uptake has been sluggish.
Federal data from 2019 shows just 4% of potentially eligible enrollees participated in the program, a figure that appears to have held steady through 2023, according to a Mathematica analysis. About 12,000 physicians billed Medicare under the CCM mantle in 2021, according to the latest Medicare data analyzed by KFF Health News. (The Medicare data includes doctors who have annually billed CCM at least a dozen times.)
By comparison, federal data shows about 1 million providers participate in Medicare.
Even as the strategy has largely failed to live up to its potential, thousands of physicians have boosted their annual pay by participating, and auxiliary for-profit businesses have sprung up to help doctors take advantage of the program. The federal data showed about 4,500 physicians received at least $100,000 each in CCM pay in 2021.
Through the CCM program, Medicare pays to develop a patient care plan, coordinate treatment with specialists, and regularly check in with beneficiaries. Medicare pays doctors a monthly average of $62 per patient, for 20 minutes of work with each, according to companies in the business.
Without the program, providers often have little incentive to spend time coordinating care because they can't bill Medicare for such services.
Health policy experts say a host of factors limit participation in the program. Chief among them is that it requires both doctors and patients to opt in. Doctors may not have the capacity to regularly monitor patients outside office visits. Some also worry about meeting the strict Medicare documentation requirements for reimbursement and are reluctant to ask patients to join a program that may require a monthly copayment if they don't have a supplemental policy.
"This program had potential to have a big impact," said Kenneth Thorpe, an Emory University health policy expert on chronic diseases. "But I knew it was never going to work from the start because it was put together wrong."
He said most doctors' offices are not set up for monitoring patients at home. "This is very time-intensive and not something physicians are used to doing or have time to do," Thorpe said.
For patients, the CCM program is intended to expand the type of care offered in traditional, fee-for-service Medicare to match benefits that — at least in theory — they may get through Medicare Advantage, which is administered by private insurers.
But the CCM program is open to both Medicare and Medicare Advantage beneficiaries.
The program was also intended to boost pay to primary care doctors and other physicians who are paid significantly less by Medicare than specialists, said Mark Miller, a former executive director of the Medicare Payment Advisory Commission, which advises Congress. He's currently an executive vice president of Arnold Ventures, a philanthropic organization focused on health policy. (The organization has also provided funding for KFF Health News.)
Despite the allure of extra money, some physicians have been put off by the program's upfront costs.
"It may seem like easy money for a physician practice, but it is not," said Namirah Jamshed, a physician at UT Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas.
Jamshed said the CCM program was cumbersome to implement because her practice was not used to documenting time spent with patients outside the office, a challenge that included finding a way to integrate the data into electronic health records. Another challenge was hiring staff to handle patient calls before her practice started getting reimbursed by the program.
Only about 10% of the practice's Medicare patients are enrolled in CCM, she said.
Jamshed said her practice has been approached by private companies looking to do the work, but the practice demurred out of concerns about sharing patients' health information and the cost of retaining the companies. Those companies can take more than half of what Medicare pays doctors for their CCM work.
Physician Jennifer Bacani McKenney, who runs a family medicine practice in Fredonia, Kansas, with her father — where Carrie Lester is a patient — said the CCM program has worked well.
She said having a system to keep in touch with patients at least once a month has reduced their use of emergency rooms — including for some who were prone to visits for nonemergency reasons, such as running out of medication or even feeling lonely. The CCM funding enables the practice's medical assistant to call patients regularly to check in, something it could not afford before.
For a small practice, having a staffer who can generate extra revenue makes a big difference, McKenney said.
While she estimates about 90% of their patients would qualify for the program, only about 20% are enrolled. One reason is that not everyone needs or wants the calls, she said.
While the program has captured interest among internists and family medicine doctors, it has also paid out hundreds of thousands of dollars to specialists, such as those in cardiology, urology, and gastroenterology, the KFF Health News analysis found. Primary care doctors are often seen as the ones who coordinate patient care, making the payments to specialists notable.
A federally funded study by Mathematica in 2017 found the CCM program saves Medicare $74 per patient per month, or $888 per patient per year — due mostly to a decreased need for hospital care.
The study quoted providers who were unhappy with attempts to outsource CCM work. "Third-party companies out there turn this into a racket," the study cited one physician as saying, noting companies employ nurses who don't know patients.
Nancy McCall, a Mathematica researcher who co-authored the 2017 study, said doctors are not the only resistance point. "Patients may not want to be bothered or asked if they are exercising or losing weight or watching their salt intake," she said.
Still, some physician groups say it's convenient to outsource the program.
UnityPoint Health, a large integrated health system based in Iowa, tried doing chronic care management on its own, but found it administratively burdensome, said Dawn Welling, the UnityPoint Clinic's chief nursing officer.
For the past year, it has contracted with a Miami-based company, HealthSnap, to enroll patients, have its nurses make check-in calls each month, and help with billing. HealthSnap helps manage care for over 16,000 of UnityHealth's Medicare patients — a small fraction of its Medicare patients, which includes those enrolled in Medicare Advantage.
Some doctors were anxious about sharing patient records and viewed the program as a sign they weren't doing enough for patients, Welling said. But she said the program has been helpful, particularly to many enrollees who are isolated and need help changing their diet and other behaviors to improve health.
"These are patients who call the clinic regularly and have needs, but not always clinical needs," Welling said.
Samson Magid, CEO of HealthSnap, said more doctors have started participating in the CCM program since Medicare increased pay in 2022 for 20 minutes of work, to $62 from $41, and added billing codes for additional time.
To help ensure patients pick up the phone, caller ID shows HealthSnap calls as coming from their doctor's office, not from wherever the company's nurse might be located. The company also hires nurses from different regions so they may speak with dialects similar to those of the patients they work with, Magid said.
He said some enrollees have been in the program for three years and many could stay enrolled for life — which means they can bill patients and Medicare long-term.