Last year alone, David Mitchell paid $16,525 for 12 little bottles of Pomalyst, one of the pricey medications that treat his multiple myeloma, a blood cancer he was diagnosed with in 2010.
The drugs have kept his cancer at bay. But their rapidly increasing costs so infuriated Mitchell that he was inspired to create an advocacy movement.
Patients for Affordable Drugs, which he founded in 2016, was instrumental in getting drug price reforms into the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. Those changes are kicking in now, and Mitchell, 73, is an early beneficiary.
In January, he plunked down $3,308 for a Pomalyst refill "and that's it," he said. Under the law, he has no further responsibility for his drug costs this year — a savings of more than $13,000.
The law caps out-of-pocket spending on brand-name drugs for Medicare beneficiaries at about $3,500 in 2024. The patient cap for all drugs drops to $2,000 next year.
"From a selfish perspective, I feel great about it," he said. But the payment cap will be "truly life-changing" for hundreds of thousands of other Medicare patients, Mitchell said.
President Joe Biden's battle against high drug prices is mostly embodied in the IRA, as the law is known — a grab bag of measures intended to give Medicare patients immediate relief and, in the long term, to impose government controls on what pharmaceutical companies charge for their products. The law represents the most significant overhaul for the U.S. drug marketplace in decades.
With Election Day on the horizon, the president is trying to make sure voters know who was responsible. This month, the White House began a campaign to get the word out to seniors.
"The days where Americans pay two to three times what they pay for prescription drugs in other countries are ending," Biden said in a Feb. 1 statement.
KFF polling indicates Biden has work to do. Just a quarter of adults were aware that the IRA includes provisions on drug prices in July, nearly a year after the president signed it. He isn't helped by the name of the law, the "Inflation Reduction Act," which says nothing about health care or drug costs.
Biden's own estimate of drug price inflation is quite conservative: U.S. patients sometimes pay more than 10 times as much for their drugs compared with people in other countries. The popular weight loss drug Wegovy lists for $936 a month in the U.S., for example — and $83 in France.
Additional sections of the law provide free vaccines and $35-a-month insulin and federal subsidies to patients earning up to 150% of the federal poverty level, and require drugmakers to pay the government rebates for medicines whose prices rise faster than inflation. But the most controversial provision enables Medicare to negotiate prices for certain expensive drugs that have been on the market for at least nine years. It's key to Biden's attempt to weaken the drug industry's grip.
Responding to Pressure
The impact of Medicare's bargaining over drug prices for privately insured Americans remains unclear. States have taken additional steps, such as cutting copays for insulin for the privately insured.
However, insurers are increasing premiums in response to their higher costs under the IRA. Monthly premiums on traditional Medicare drug plans jumped to $48 from $40 this year, on average.
On Feb. 1, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services sent pharmaceutical makers opening bids for the first 10 expensive drugs it selected for negotiation. The companies are responding to the bids — while filing nine lawsuits that aim to kill the negotiations altogether, arguing that limiting their profits will strangle the pipeline of lifesaving drugs. A federal court in Texas dismissed one of the suits on Feb. 12, without taking up the substantive legal issue over constitutionality.
If the government prevails in the courts, new prices for those 10 drugs will be announced by September and take effect in 2026. The government will negotiate an additional 15 drugs for 2027, another 15 for 2028, and 20 more each year thereafter. CMS has been mum about the size of its offers, but AstraZeneca CEO Pascal Soriot on Feb. 8 called the opening bid for his company's drug Farxiga (which earned $2.8 billion in U.S. sales in fiscal year 2023) "relatively encouraging."
Related Biden administration efforts, as well as legislation with bipartisan support, could complement the Inflation Reduction Act's swing at drug prices.
The House and Senate have passed bills that require greater transparency and less self-serving behavior by pharmacy benefit managers, the secretive intermediaries that decide which drugs go on patients' formularies, the lists detailing which prescriptions are available to health plan enrollees. The Federal Trade Commission is investigating anti-competitive action by leading PBMs, as well as drug company patenting tricks that slow the entry of cheaper drugs to the market.
'Sending a Message'
Months after drug companies began suing to stop price negotiations, the Biden administration released a framework describing when it could "march in" and essentially seize drugs created through research funded by the National Institutes of Health if they are unreasonably priced.
The timing of the march-in announcement "suggests that it's about sending a message" to the drug industry, said Robin Feldman, who leads the Center for Innovation at the University of California Law-San Francisco. And so, in a way, does the Inflation Reduction Act itself, she said.
"I have always thought that the IRA would reverberate well beyond the unlucky 10 and others that get pulled into the net later," Feldman said. "Companies are likely to try to moderate their behavior to stay out of negotiations. I think of all the things going on as attempts to corral the market into more reasonable pathways."
The IRA issues did not appear to be top of mind to most executives and investors as they gathered to make deals at the annual J.P. Morgan Healthcare Conference in San Francisco last month.
"I think the industry is navigating its way beyond this," said Matthew Price, chief operating officer of Promontory Therapeutics, a cancer drug startup, in an interview there. The drugs up for negotiation "look to be assets that were already nearing the end of their patent life. So maybe the impact on revenues is less than feared. There's alarm around this, but it was probably inevitable that a negotiation mechanism of some kind would have to come in."
Investors generally appear sanguine about the impact of the law. A recent S&P Global report suggests "healthy revenue growth through 2027" for the pharmaceutical industry.
Back in Washington, many of the changes await action by the courts and Congress and could be shelved depending on the results of the fall election.
The restructuring of Medicare Part D, which covers most retail prescription drugs, is already lowering costs for many Medicare patients who spent more than $3,500 a year on their Part D drugs. In 2020 that was about 1.3 million patients, 200,000 of whom spent $5,000 or more out-of-pocket, according to KFF research.
"That's real savings," said Tricia Neuman, executive director of KFF's Medicare policy program, "and it's targeted to people who are really sick."
Although the drug industry is spending millions to fight the IRA, the Part D portion of the bill could end up boosting their sales. While it forces the industry to further discount the highest-grossing drugs, the bill makes it easier for Medicare patients to pick up their medicines because they'll be able to afford them, said Stacie Dusetzina, a Vanderbilt University School of Medicine researcher. She was the lead author of a 2022 study showing that cancer patients who didn't get income subsidies were about half as likely to fill prescriptions.
States and foundations that help patients pay for their drugs will save money, enabling them to procure more drugs for more patients, said Gina Upchurch, the executive director of Senior PharmAssist, a Durham, North Carolina-based drug assistance program, and a member of the Medicare Payment Advisory Commission. "This is good news for the drug companies," she said.
Relief for Patients
Lynn Scarfuto, 73, a retired nurse who lives on a fixed income in upstate New York, spent $1,157 for drugs last year, while most of her share of the $205,000 annual cost for the leukemia drug Imbruvica was paid by a charity, the Patient Access Network Foundation. This year, through the IRA, she'll pay nothing because the foundation's first monthly Imbruvica payment covered her entire responsibility. Imbruvica, marketed jointly by AbbVie and Janssen, a subsidiary of Johnson & Johnson, is one of the 10 drugs subject to Medicare negotiations.
"For Medicare patients, the Inflation Reduction Act is a great, wonderful thing," Scarfuto said. "I hope the negotiation continues as they have promised, adding more drugs every year."
Mitchell, a PR specialist who had worked with such clients as the Campaign for Tobacco-Free Kids and pharmaceutical giant J&J, went to an emergency room with severe back pain in November 2010 and discovered he had a cancer that had broken a vertebra and five ribs and left holes in his pelvis, skull, and forearm bones. He responded well to surgery and treatment but was shocked at the price of his drugs.
His Patients for Affordable Drugs group has become a powerful voice in Washington, engaging tens of thousands of patients, including Scarfuto, to tell their stories and lobby legislatures. The work is supported in part by millions in grants from Arnold Ventures, a philanthropy that has supported health care policies like lower drug prices, access to contraception, and solutions to the opioid epidemic.
"What got the IRA over the finish line in part was angry people who said we want something done with this," Mitchell said. "Our patients gave voice to that."
Arnold Ventures has provided funding for KFF Health News.
Lawmakers and regulators in Washington are starting to puzzle over how to regulate artificial intelligence in health care — and the AI industry thinks there's a good chance they'll mess it up.
"It's an incredibly daunting problem," said Bob Wachter, the chair of the Department of Medicine at the University of California-San Francisco. "There's a risk we come in with guns blazing and overregulate."
Already, AI's impact on health care is widespread. The Food and Drug Administration has approved some 692 AI products. Algorithms are helping to schedule patients, determine staffing levels in emergency rooms, and even transcribe and summarize clinical visits to save physicians' time. They're starting to help radiologists read MRIs and X-rays. Wachter said he sometimes informally consults a version of GPT-4, a large language model from the company OpenAI, for complex cases.
The scope of AI's impact — and the potential for future changes — means government is already playing catch-up.
"Policymakers are terribly behind the times," Michael Yang, senior managing partner at OMERS Ventures, a venture capital firm, said in an email. Yang's peers have made vast investments in the sector. Rock Health, a venture capital firm, says financiers have put nearly $28 billion into digital health firms specializing in artificial intelligence.
One issue regulators are grappling with, Wachter said, is that, unlike drugs, which will have the same chemistry five years from now as they do today, AI changes over time. But governance is forming, with the White House and multiple health-focused agencies developing rules to ensure transparency and privacy. Congress is also flashing interest. The Senate Finance Committee held a hearing Feb. 8 on AI in health care.
Along with regulation and legislation comes increased lobbying. CNBC counted a 185% surge in the number of organizations disclosing AI lobbying activities in 2023. The trade group TechNet has launched a $25 million initiative, including TV ad buys, to educate viewers on the benefits of artificial intelligence.
"It is very hard to know how to smartly regulate AI since we are so early in the invention phase of the technology," Bob Kocher, a partner with venture capital firm Venrock who previously served in the Obama administration, said in an email.
Kocher has spoken to senators about AI regulation. He emphasizes some of the difficulties the health care system will face in adopting the products. Doctors — facing malpractice risks — might be leery of using technology they don't understand to make clinical decisions.
An analysis of Census Bureau data from January by the consultancy Capital Economics found 6.1% of health care businesses were planning to use AI in the next six months, roughly in the middle of the 14 sectors surveyed.
Like any medical product, AI systems can pose risks to patients, sometimes in a novel way. One example: They may make things up.
Wachter recalled a colleague, as a test, assigning OpenAI's GPT-3 to write a prior authorization letter to an insurer for a purposefully "wacky" prescription: a blood thinner to treat a patient's insomnia.
But the AI "wrote a beautiful note," he said. The system so convincingly cited "recent literature" that Wachter's colleague briefly wondered whether she'd missed a new line of research. It turned out the chatbot had made it up.
There's a risk of AI magnifying bias already present in the health care system. Historically, people of color have received less care than white patients. Studies show, for example, that Black patients with fractures are less likely to get pain medication than white ones. This bias might get set in stone when artificial intelligence is trained on that data and subsequently acts.
Research into AI deployed by large insurers has confirmed that has happened. But the problem is more widespread. Wachter said UCSF tested a product to predict no-shows for clinical appointments. Patients who are deemed unlikely to show up for a visit are more likely to be double-booked.
The test showed that people of color were more likely not to show. Whether or not the finding was accurate, "the ethical response is to ask, why is that, and is there something you can do," Wachter said.
Hype aside, those risks will likely continue to grab attention over time. AI experts and FDA officials have emphasized the need for transparent algorithms, monitored over the long term by human beings — regulators and outside researchers. AI products adapt and change as new data is incorporated. And scientists will develop new products.
Policymakers will need to invest in new systems to track AI over time, said University of Chicago Provost Katherine Baicker, who testified at the Finance Committee hearing. "The biggest advance is something we haven't thought of yet," she said in an interview.
In the battle to control healthcare costs, hospitals are deploying their political power to protect their bottom lines.
The point of contention: For decades, Medicare has paid hospitals — including hospital-owned physician practices that may not be physically located in a hospital building — about double the rates it pays other doctors and facilities for the same services, such as mammograms, colonoscopies, and blood tests.
The rationale has been that hospitals have higher fixed costs, such as 24/7 emergency rooms and uncompensated care for uninsured people.
Insurers, doctors, and consumer advocates have long complained it's an unequal and unfair arrangement that results in higher costs for patients and taxpayers. It's also a profit incentive for hospitals to buy up physician practices, which health economists say can lead to hospital consolidation and higher prices.
In December, the House passed a bill that included a provision requiring Medicare to pay the same rates for medical infusions, like chemotherapy and many treatments for autoimmune conditions, regardless of whether they're done in a doctor's office or clinic owned by a hospital or by a different entity. The policy, known as site-neutral payment, has sparked a ferocious lobbying battle in the Senate, not the first of its kind, with hospitals determined to kill such legislation.
Don't bet against them. The House legislation would save Medicare an estimated $3.7 billion over a decade, according to the Congressional Budget Office. To put this in perspective, the program is projected to pay hospitals upward of $2 trillion during that same period. But hospitals have long argued that any adoption of site-neutral payments would force them to cut jobs or services, or close facilities altogether — particularly in rural areas. And senators are listening.
"The Senate is very much attuned to rural concerns," Sen. Ron Wyden (D-Ore.), who chairs the Finance Committee, told KFF Health News. His panel has jurisdiction over Medicare, the health program for seniors and people with disabilities.
"I have heard lots of questions about how these proposals would affect rural communities and rural facilities," he said. "So we're taking a look at it."
Outpatient departments at rural hospitals can have outsize importance to their communities. Taking any funding away from stand-alone rural hospitals is seen as risky. Scores have closed in the past decade due to financial problems. With fewer patients, rural hospitals often struggle to attract doctors and update technology amid rising costs.
Sen. Bill Cassidy (R-La.), a physician who also serves on the Finance Committee, indicated he was apprehensive about the legislation.
"In some cases," he said, higher Medicare payments for hospitals are "justified."
"In some cases, it doesn't seem to be," he said. He told KFF Health News he was planning to introduce legislation on the issue but didn't provide details, and his office didn't respond to inquiries.
As the two senators show, the issue doesn't break cleanly along partisan lines. In December, the House easily passed the Lower Costs, More Transparency Act, the broader bill that included this Medicare payment change, with 166 Republicans and 154 Democrats voting in favor.
"It's more about how close different members are to the hospital industry," said Matthew Fiedler, a former White House health economist under President Barack Obama and now a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution.
The American Hospital Association describes the site-neutral policy as a "cut" to hospital Medicare payments and said in a statement to a House subcommittee that it "disregards important differences in patient safety and quality standards required in these facilities."
Chip Kahn, president and CEO of the Federation of American Hospitals, which represents for-profit hospitals, offered a similar characterization of the House-passed legislation. "This is no time for so-called ‘site neutral' Medicare cuts that could harm beneficiaries," he said in a statement. He urged lawmakers to drop the policy from the broader bill and instead prioritize access to hospital care for patients by not only protecting Medicare, but also strengthening the healthcare safety net.
Hospitals argue they need the extra money because they have higher costs, said Salama Freed, an assistant professor of health policy and management at George Washington University and a nonresident fellow at KFF. But "it doesn't necessarily warrant the amount that they end up getting paid for this," she said.
The Medicare Payment Advisory Commission, which advises Congress on the program, has recommended implementing site-neutral payments for over a decade.
"This is not a hospital cut. It is rolling back an unethical price increase," said Mark Miller, a former MedPAC executive director who's now an executive vice president at Arnold Ventures, a philanthropy founded by John and Laura Arnold, an energy industry investor and an attorney, respectively.
Large hospital systems with the money to buy physician practices, Miller said, have exploited the disparity between Medicare payments to physician offices and hospitals to increase their revenue and consolidate.
Arnold Ventures advocates for site-neutral payments and its leaders have discussed the issue with lawmakers. (The organization has also provided funding for KFF Health News.)
Miller said he's hopeful the site-neutral provision of the House bill will be part of a larger government spending bill that must be passed next month to keep the government open. If lawmakers need to offset the bill's costs, "then it is more likely to get in the funding package," he said.
Though the House-passed legislation is viewed as an "incremental" change, said Fiedler, it faces a rough path forward. Evening out Medicare payment for physician-administered drugs, hospitals fear, could lead to similar moves for other outpatient services.
"Hospitals have a lot of money at stake and will fight this hard," he said. "Hospitals feel if they lose here, down the road there will be more substantial steps."
Christopher Marks noticed an immediate improvement when his doctor prescribed him the Type 2 diabetes medication Mounjaro last year. The 40-year-old truck driver from Kansas City, Missouri, said his average blood sugar reading decreased significantly and that keeping it within target range took less insulin than before.
But when his doctor followed the typical prescribing pattern and increased his dose of Mounjaro — a drug with a wholesale list price of more than $1,000 a month — Marks' health insurer declined to pay for it.
Marks had Cigna insurance that he purchased on the federal health insurance marketplace, healthcare.gov. After two appeals over a month and a half, Cigna agreed to cover the higher dose. A few months later, he said, when it was time to up his dose once more, he was denied again. By November, he decided it wasn't worth sparring with Cigna anymore since the insurer was leaving the marketplace in Missouri at the start of this year. He decided to stay on the lower dose until his new insurance kicked in.
"That is beyond frustrating. People shouldn't have to be like, 'It's not worth the fight to get my medical treatment,'" Marks said.
The process Marks encountered is called "prior authorization," or sometimes "pre-certification," a tool insurers say they use to rein in costs and protect patients from unnecessary or ineffective medical treatment. But the practice has prompted backlash from patients like Marks, as well as groups representing medical professionals and hospitals that say prior authorization can interfere with treatment, cause medical provider burnout, and increase administrative costs.
In January, the Biden administration announced new rules to streamline the process for patients with certain health plans, after attempts stalled out in Congress, including a bill that passed the House in 2022. But states are considering prior authorization bills that go even further. Last year, lawmakers in 29 states and Washington, D.C., considered some 90 bills to limit prior authorization requirements, according to the American Medical Association, with notable victories in New Jersey and Washington, D.C. The physicians association expects more bills this year, many with provisions spelled out in model legislation the group drafted.
In 2018, health insurers signed a consensus statement with various medical facility and provider groups that broadly laid out areas for improving the prior authorization process. But the lack of progress since then has shown the need for legislative action, said Jack Resneck Jr., past president of the AMA and a current trustee.
"They have not lived up to their promises," Resneck said.
Resneck, a California dermatologist, emphasized pending bills in Indiana, Massachusetts, North Carolina, Oklahoma, and Wyoming that include several policies backed by the AMA, including quicker response times, requirements for public reporting of insurers' prior authorization determinations, and programs to reduce the volume of requests, sometimes called "gold carding." Legislation has come from both Democratic and Republican lawmakers, and some is bipartisan, as in Colorado.
In Missouri, legislation introduced by Republican state Rep. Melanie Stinnett aims to establish one of those gold carding programs for treatment and prescriptions. Stinnett said she regularly was frustrated by prior authorization hurdles in her work as a speech pathologist before joining the legislature in 2023.
"The stories all kind of look similar: It's a big fight to get something done on the insurance side for approval," Stinnett said. "Then sometimes, even after all of that fight, it feels like it may have not been worthwhile because some people then have a change at the beginning of the year with their insurance."
Under her bill, a medical provider's prior authorization requests during a six-month evaluation period would be reviewed. After that period, providers whose requests were approved at least 90% of the time would be exempt from having to submit requests for the next six months. The exemptions would also apply to facilities that meet that threshold. Then, she said, they would need to continue meeting the threshold to keep the "luxury" of the exemption.
Five states have passed some form of gold carding program: Louisiana, Michigan, Texas, Vermont, and West Virginia. The AMA is tracking active gold carding bills in 13 states, including Missouri.
A 2022 survey of 26 health insurance plans conducted by the industry trade group AHIP found that just over half of those plans had used a gold carding program for medical services while about a fifth had done so for prescriptions. They gave mixed reviews: 23% said patient safety improved or stayed the same, while 20% said the practice increased costs without improving quality.
The new federal prior authorization rules finalized by the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services stop short of gold carding and don't address prior authorizations for prescription drugs, like Marks' Mounjaro prescription. Beginning in 2026, the new rules establish response time frames and public reporting requirements — and ultimately will mandate an electronic process — for some insurers participating in federal programs, such as Medicare Advantage or the health insurance marketplace. Manual submissions accounted for 39% of prior authorization requests for prescriptions and 60% of those for medical services, according to the 2022 insurance survey.
In Missouri, state and national organizations representing doctors, nurses, social workers, and hospitals, among others, back Stinnett's bill. Opposition to the plan comes largely from pharmacy benefit managers and the insurance industry, including the company whose prior authorization process Marks navigated last year. A Cigna Healthcare executive submitted testimony saying the company's experience showed gold card policies "increase inappropriate care and costs."
The St. Louis Area Business Health Coalition, which represents dozens of employers that purchase health insurance for employees, also opposes the bill. Members of the coalition include financial services firm Edward Jones, coal company Peabody Energy, and aviation giant Boeing, as well as several public school districts and the St. Louis city and county governments.
Louise Probst, the coalition's executive director, said the prior authorization process has issues but that the coalition would prefer that a solution come from insurers and providers rather than a new state law.
"The reason I hate to see things just set in stone is that you lose the flexibility and the nuance that could be helpful to patients," Probst said.
On the other side of the state, Marks purchased insurance for this year on the federal marketplace from Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Kansas City. In January, his doctor re-prescribed the higher dose of Mounjaro that Cigna had declined to cover. A little over a week later, Marks said, his new insurance approved the higher dose "without any fuss."
Cigna spokesperson Justine Sessions said the company uses prior authorizations for popular drugs such as Mounjaro to help ensure patients get the right medications and dosages.
"We strive to make authorizations quickly and correctly, but in Mr. Marks' case, we fell short and we greatly regret the stress and frustration this caused," she said. "We are reviewing this case and identifying opportunities for improvement to ensure this does not happen in the future."
Marks' aim with this higher dose of Mounjaro is to get off his other diabetes medications. He particularly hopes to stop taking insulin, which for him requires multiple injections a day and carries a risk of dangerous complications from low blood sugar.
"I don't really use the word 'life-changing,' but it kind of is," Marks said. "Getting off insulin would be great."
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Halfway through what will be the biggest purge of Medicaid beneficiaries in a one-year span, enrollment in the government-run health insurance program is on track to return to roughly pre-pandemic levels.
Medicaid, which covers low-income and disabled people, and the related Children's Health Insurance Program grew to a record 94 million enrollees as a result of a rule that prohibited states from terminating coverage during the nation's public health emergency.
But since last April, states have removed more than 16 million people from the programs in a process known as the "unwinding," according to KFF estimates compiled from state-level data.
While many beneficiaries no longer qualify because their incomes rose, millions of people have been dropped from the rolls for procedural reasons like failing to respond to notices or return paperwork. But at the same time, millions have been reenrolled or signed up for the first time.
The net result: Enrollment has fallen by about 9.5 million people from the record high reached last April, according to KFF. That puts Medicaid and CHIP enrollment on track to look, by the end of the unwinding later this year, a lot like it did at the start of the coronavirus pandemic: about 71 million people.
"What we are seeing is not dissimilar to what we saw before the pandemic — it is just happening on a bigger scale and more quickly," said Larry Levitt, executive vice president for health policy at KFF.
Enrollment churn has long been a feature of Medicaid. Before the pandemic, about 1 million to 1.5 million people nationwide fell off the Medicaid rolls each month — including many who still qualified but failed to renew their coverage, Levitt said.
During the unwinding, many people have been disenrolled in a shorter time. In some ways — and in some states — it's been worse than expected.
The Biden administration predicted about 15 million people would lose coverage under Medicaid or CHIP during the unwinding period, nearly half due to procedural issues. Both predictions have proven low. Based on data reported so far, disenrollments are likely to exceed 17 million, according to KFF — 70% due to procedural reasons.
But about two-thirds of the 48 million beneficiaries who have had their eligibility reviewed so far got their coverage renewed. About one-third lost it.
The federal government has given most states 12 months to complete their unwinding, starting with the first disenrollments between last April and October.
Timothy McBride, a health economist at Washington University in St. Louis, said the nation's historically low unemployment rate means people who lose Medicaid coverage are more likely to find job-based coverage or be better able to afford plans on Obamacare marketplaces. "That is one reason why the drop in Medicaid is not a lot worse," he said.
There are big differences between states. Oregon, for example, has disenrolled just 12% of its beneficiaries. Seventy-five percent have been renewed, according to KFF. The rest are pending.
At the other end of the spectrum, Oklahoma has dumped 43% of its beneficiaries in the unwinding, renewing coverage for just 34%. About 24% are pending.
States have varying eligibility rules, and some make it easier to stay enrolled. For instance, Oregon allows children to stay on Medicaid until age 6 without having to reapply. All other enrollees get up to two years of coverage regardless of changes in income.
Jennifer Harris, senior health policy advocate for Alabama Arise, an advocacy group, said her state's Medicaid agency and other nonprofit organizations communicated well to enrollees about the need to reapply for coverage and that the state also hired more people to handle the surge. About 29% of beneficiaries in Alabama who've had eligibility reviews were disenrolled for procedural reasons, KFF found.
"Things are even keel in Alabama," she said, noting that about 66% of enrollees have been renewed.
State officials have told the legislature that about a quarter of people disenrolled during the unwinding were reenrolled within 90 days, she said.
One of a handful of states that have refused to expand Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act, Alabama had about 920,000 enrollees in Medicaid and CHIP in January 2020. That number rose to about 1.2 million in April 2023.
More than halfway into the unwinding, the state is on track for enrollment to return to pre-pandemic levels, Harris said.
Joan Alker, executive director of the Georgetown University Center for Children and Families, said she remains worried the drop in Medicaid enrollment among children is steeper than typical. That's particularly bothersome because children usually qualify for Medicaid at higher household income levels than their parents or other adults.
During the unwinding 3.8 million children have lost Medicaid coverage, according to the center's latest data. "Many more kids are falling off now than prior to the pandemic," Alker said.
And when they're dropped, many families struggle to get them back on, she said. "The whole system is backlogged and the ability of people to get back on in a timely fashion is more limited," she said.
The big question, Levitt said, is how many of the millions of people dropped from Medicaid are now uninsured.
The only state to survey those disenrolled — Utah — discovered about 30% were uninsured. Many of the rest found employer health coverage or signed up for subsidized coverage through the Affordable Care Act marketplace.
When Stephen Miller left his primary care practice to work in public health a little under two years ago, he said, he was shocked by how many cases of syphilis the clinic was treating.
For decades, rates of the sexually transmitted infection were low. But the Hamilton County Health Department in Chattanooga — a midsize city surrounded by national forests and nestled into the Appalachian foothills of Tennessee — was seeing several syphilis patients a day, Miller said. A nurse who had worked at the clinic for decades told Miller the wave of patients was a radical change from the norm.
What Miller observed in Chattanooga is reflective of a trend that is raising alarm bells for health departments across the country.
Nationwide, syphilis rates are at a 70-year high. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said Jan. 30 that 207,255 cases were reported in 2022, continuing a steep increase over five years. Between 2018 and 2022, syphilis rates rose about 80%. The epidemic of sexually transmitted infections — especially syphilis — is "out of control," said the National Coalition of STD Directors.
The surge has been even more pronounced in Tennessee, where infection rates for the first two stages of syphilis grew 86% between 2017 and 2021.
But this already difficult situation was complicated last spring by a shortage of a specific penicillin injection that is the go-to treatment for syphilis. The ongoing shortage is so severe that public health agencies have recommended that providers ration the drug — prioritizing pregnant patients, since it is the only syphilis treatment considered safe for them. Congenital syphilis, which happens when the mom spreads the disease to the fetus, can cause birth defects, miscarriages, and stillbirths.
Across the country, 3,755 cases of congenital syphilis were reported to the CDC in 2022 — that's 10 times as high as the number a decade before, the recent data shows. Of those cases, 231 resulted in stillbirth and 51 led to infant death. The number of cases in babies swelled by 183% between 2018 and 2022.
"Lack of timely testing and adequate treatment during pregnancy contributed to 88% of cases of congenital syphilis," said a report from the CDC released in November. "Testing and treatment gaps were present in the majority of cases across all races, ethnicities, and U.S. Census Bureau regions."
Hamilton County's syphilis rates have mirrored the national trend, with an increase in cases for all groups, including infants.
In November, the maternal and infant health advocacy organization March of Dimes released its annual report on states' health outcomes. It found that, nationwide, about 15.5% of pregnant people received care beginning in the fifth month of pregnancy or later — or attended fewer than half the recommended prenatal visits. In Tennessee, the rate was even worse, 17.4%.
But Miller said even those who attend every recommended appointment can run into problems because providers are required to test for syphilis only at the beginning of a pregnancy. The idea is that if you test a few weeks before birth, there is time to treat the infection.
However, that recommendation hinges on whether the provider suspects the patient was exposed to the bacterium that causes syphilis, which may not be obvious for people who say their relationships are monogamous.
"What we found is, a lot of times their partner was not as monogamous, and they were bringing it into the relationship," Miller said.
Even if the patient tested negative initially, they may have contracted syphilis later in pregnancy, when testing for the disease is not routine, he said.
Two antibiotics are used to treat syphilis, the injectable penicillin and an oral drug called doxycycline.
Patients allergic to penicillin are often prescribed the oral antibiotic. But the World Health Organization strongly advises pregnant patients to avoid doxycycline because it can cause severe bone and teeth deformities in the infant.
As a result, pregnant syphilis patients are often given penicillin, even when they're allergic, using a technique called desensitization, said Mark Turrentine, a Houston OB-GYN. Patients are given low doses in a hospital setting to help their bodies get used to the drug and to check for a severe reaction. The penicillin shot is a one-and-done technique, unlike an antibiotic, which requires sticking to a two-week regimen.
"It's tough to take a medication for a long period of time," Turrentine said. The single injection can provide patients and their clinicians peace of mind. "If they don't come back for whatever reason, you're not worried about it," he said.
The Metro Public Health Department in Nashville, Tennessee, began giving all nonpregnant adults with syphilis the oral antibiotic in July, said Laura Varnier, nursing and clinical director.
Turrentine said he started seeing advisories about the injectable penicillin shortage in April, around the time the antibiotic amoxicillin became difficult to find and physicians were using penicillin as a substitute, potentially precipitating the shortage, he said.
The rise in syphilis has created demand for the injection that manufacturer Pfizer can't keep up with, according to the American Society of Health-System Pharmacists. "There is insufficient supply for usual ordering," the ASHP said in a memo.
Even though penicillin has been around a long time, manufacturing it is difficult, largely because so many people are allergic, said Erin Fox, associate chief pharmacy officer for the University of Utah health system and an adjunct professor at the university, who studies drug shortages.
"That means you can't make other drugs on that manufacturing line," she said. Only major manufacturers like Pfizer have the resources to build and operate such a specialized, cordoned-off facility. "It's not necessarily efficient — or necessarily profitable," Fox said.
In a statement, Pfizer confirmed the amoxicillin shortage and surge in syphilis increased demand for injectable penicillin by about 70%. Representatives said the company invested $38 million in the facility that produces this form of penicillin, hiring more staff and expanding the production line.
"This ramp up will take some time to be felt in the market, as product cycle time is 3-6 months from when product is manufactured to when it is available to be released to customers," the statement reads. The company estimated the shortage would be significantly alleviated by spring.
In the meantime, Miller said, his clinic in Chattanooga is continuing to strategize. Each dose of injectable penicillin can cost hundreds of dollars. Plus, it has to be placed in cold storage, and it expires after 48 months.
Even with the dramatic increase in cases, syphilis is still relatively rare. More than 7 million people live in Tennessee, and in 2019, providers statewide reported 683 cases of syphilis.
Health departments like Miller's treat the bulk of syphilis patients. Many patients are sent by their provider to the health department, which works with contact tracers to identify and notify sexual partners who might be affected and tests patients for other sexually transmitted infections, including HIV.
"When you diagnose in the office, think of it as just seeing the tip of the iceberg," Miller said. "You need a team of individuals to be able to explore and look at the rest of the iceberg."
This story is part of a partnership that includes WPLN, NPR, and KFF Health News.
The Federal Trade Commission has challenged the validity of over 100 drug product patents, focusing on devices used to deliver medicines, like inhalers and autoinjectors, in an effort to increase competition and potentially lower some prices.
The FTC says drugmakers illegitimately use the patents to prevent competitors from offering cheaper generic alternatives.
It's the first time the FTC has tried the tactic, said Hannah Garden-Monheit, director of the FTC's Office of Policy Planning.
"We are using all the tools we have to bring down drug prices and reduce barriers to generic competition," she said in an interview.
President Joe Biden has instructed his Federal Trade Commission to be more aggressive in reining in the pharmaceutical industry. Under its chairperson, Lina Khan, the agency is aggressively testing the limits of its powers in pursuit of that goal.
The targeted patents cover devices that propel medicines for asthma and emphysema into the lungs or inject epinephrine to treat a severe allergic attack. Drugmakers list them in the FDA's "Orange Book," which can afford the products greater protection from generic competition.
Many of the medicines delivered by the devices are decades old, years off patent. But manufacturers have long tweaked the delivery methods, patenting the changes, in ways that sometimes make the drugs more convenient to administer.
They might, for example, change the propellant in an inhaler or add a counter that tells a patient how many doses are left. Autoinjectors mean patients don't see a needle or syringe but merely press a device with a hidden needle against the skin to deliver the medicine. Some autoinjectors even talk patients through the process.
Though there has long been a procedure for disputing the validity of Orange Book-listed patents, it is rarely used.
In challenging Orange Book listings, the FTC is trying to cut away at what are known as patent thickets. While a single patent once would cover a single active medicine, many drugs today are protected by half a dozen patents or more, creating additional obstacles for cheaper generics seeking to enter the market.
The move is critically important because drugmakers frequently extend the 20-year patent protection of a drug by changing the delivery device or method. For example, instead of a pill, they make a capsule. Or instead of a dose every six hours, they create a longer-acting, once-a-day version. They can also alter the process by which a drug is made — so-called "process patents."
Each tweak gets a new patent, which the manufacturer then adds to its official compendium of drug patents. There is no advance scrutiny of listings by regulators.
Generic drugmakers wishing to make a copycat version of a branded drug generally have to challenge the patents in court. But merely listing a patent in the Orange Book automatically triggers a 2½-year delay of FDA approval of a litigating generic competitor.
The FTC says patent law protects active ingredients, not delivery methods.
The pharmaceutical industry, already battling the Biden administration's plan to negotiate prices of some drugs for Medicare patients, says it wants more clarity about which aspects of its products can be patented.
"The underlying statute is not clear about listing certain types of drug delivery device patents, and the industry has long asked for the FDA to provide guidance," said Megan Van Etten, a spokesperson for Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, the industry trade group, in an email. "We're disappointed that the FTC has characterized companies as acting inappropriately rather than help seek the clarity the industry needs to ensure compliance."
After an FTC challenge, companies have 30 days to withdraw or amend the patent or show it is valid. Some have already backed down.
"We've had some significant wins," Garden-Monheit said. After the FTC's challenge, drugmaker GSK, formerly GlaxoSmithKline, withdrew all patents on two popular inhalers for asthma, Advair and Flovent, both of which contained old off-patent medicines but nonetheless cost hundreds of dollars. Amneal Pharmaceuticals withdrew patents on its epinephrine injector.
Still, the deadline for companies to respond to the first set of warning letters has passed and only about 30% of those that received them answered, leaving the commission to ponder its next steps. The FTC could take a drugmaker to court to seek a cease-and-desist order.
And Garden-Monheit said the agency is poised to look at other types of patents that may be invalid, which pile up to add to the thicket. There are thousands of patents in the Orange Book.
"We are taking a close and active look at this," Garden-Monheit said. "Companies who haven't received a letter from us challenging a patent shouldn't think they're off the hook."
Clinicians at Valley-Wide Health Systems never know who will appear at their clinic in San Luis, a town of about 600 people in southern Colorado.
"If someone's in labor, they'll show up. If someone has a laceration, they'll show up," said nurse practitioner Emelin Martinez, the chief medical officer for the health care system serving 13 rural Colorado counties.
But she struggled to find a full-time medical provider for that clinic, the only one in Costilla County. Born and raised in the area, Martinez filled some of the gap by driving about 45 minutes from Alamosa, the nearest city, once a week for months. A physician assistant from another town chipped in, too.
As one of the nation's more than 1,000 federally designated primary care shortage areas, Costilla County has many carrots to dangle in front of medical providers willing to practice there, including federal student loan repayments, bonus Medicare payments, and expedited visas for foreign clinicians. Still, Martinez said, its latest opening remained unfilled for more than a year. Not a single physician applied.
Policymakers have long tried to lure more primary care providers to the areas of the nation that have fewer than one physician for every 3,500 residents. Recent examples include the Biden administration boosting funding in 2022 to address shortages and Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) pushing sweeping primary care legislation in 2023.
But researchers steeped in the issue have a persistent frustration: It's hard to know if any policy is working given that the data the federal government collects on primary care shortage areas has been flawed for a long time. One of the biggest gaps is that the system counts only physicians, not the myriad other health care professionals who now provide much of our nation's primary care.
Additionally, a Health Affairs study shows the federal designations, which help allocate an estimated $1 billion in annual funding through at least 20 federal programs aimed at boosting primary care capacity, haven't helped much.
In fact, Costilla County is among more than 180 federally designated areas that have remained stuck on the primary care shortage list for at least 40 years, according to a KFF Health News analysis. That's even as the overall number of licensed U.S. physicians more than doubled from 1990 to 2022 to over 1 million, according to the Federation of State Medical Boards, outpacing overall population growth.
No one disputes that much of the nation is starved for primary care clinicians, with patients having to wait weeks to get appointments or travel long distances for basic preventive care. Many doctors decide against primary care career paths, let alone practicing in isolated communities, because those jobs entail heavy workloads and earn less money and respect than specialists. But how does the nation solve the problem without knowing exactly where it is? And what tools must be used? Does a physician need to be the one providing the care?
Whitney Zahnd, president of the board of the Iowa Rural Health Association, said the fact that some rural areas have had such federal shortage designations for decades doesn't prove they are ineffective. "Had the program not been there, would it have been even worse?" she said.
Federal funding supports 18,000 primary care doctors, nurse practitioners, and physician assistants to provide care to more than 18 million patients in the highest-need urban and rural communities across the country, said David Bowman, a spokesperson for the Health Resources and Services Administration, which manages the shortage designations. He said more than 80% of clinicians who get such scholarships or loan repayments continue to practice in shortage areas beyond their obligation of several years.
But that doesn't mean they stick around forever.
Justin Markowski, a Yale School of Public Health doctoral student, co-authored the Health Affairs study that found the federal shortage designation makes no difference in upping physician density long-term. He is skeptical of policy ideas that promise big primary care fixes. That includes the Biden administration's investment in more scholarships and loan repayments through the National Health Service Corps.
"You're just throwing more money at a set of programs that don't really seem to work," he said. "We'll see in a few years, but I'll be shocked if it actually moved any physicians or any other advanced practice providers."
One possible explanation for the persistence of shortage areas is that such incentives are too small or too fleeting.
But another issue is how shortages are measured. The government considers geographic shortage areas, now numbering just over 1,000, but also population groups such as migrant farmworkers and individual facilities such as prisons that lack enough providers. Yet it's up to state offices to identify populations and locations that might qualify as shortage areas and submit them to HRSA, which then scores the extent of any shortages. The funding and staffing for those state offices vary, creating an uneven foundation from which to map actual shortages.
"Some states became very adept at the equivalent of gerrymandering, where they were piecing together census blocks or census tracts in odd shapes in order to maximize the areas that are eligible," said Stephen Petterson, a senior scholar at the Robert Graham Center, a policy think tank in Washington, D.C., that focuses on primary care.
The federal Government Accountability Office has highlighted such issues since at least 1995, when it released a report identifying widespread data problems with the shortage area system and concluding it had "little assurance that federal funds are used where most needed." The report noted one of the persistent shortcomings is that the system counts only physicians, not other key primary care providers.
Since 1998, federal officials have made three attempts to update the 1970s-era rules that define what counts as a shortage area. The authors of the Affordable Care Act tried most recently, tasking a committee of experts to decide on an update.
Among other things, the committee concluded in its 2011 report that nurse practitioners, physician assistants, and certified nurse midwives should be counted as primary care providers. But the recommendations fell short by just a handful of votes.
"We failed and the committee as a whole failed and HRSA failed by not moving the process forward," said Petterson, who presented to the committee on how to comprehensively measure primary care needs.
Steve Holloway, who directs the Colorado health department's Primary Care Office, served on the committee. Without action at the federal level, he then led a team to create Colorado's own health professional shortage area designations that factor in nurse practitioners and physician assistants, not just doctors.
He said it's taken about six years to create a tool and map of Colorado to answer a deceptively simple question: "How many actual flesh-and-blood, live clinicians are seeing patients?"
Ed Salsberg, who was the lead federal government representative on that committee and who headed HRSA's National Center for Health Workforce Analysis, said the rest of the nation needs more precise data, too.
"It's so important for the nation to target its resources to the highest-need communities," he said. "It's time again to try one more time to develop an improved methodology."
In the past few years, more readily available data from insurance claims has allowed researchers to distinguish the medical providers who are practicing primary care from those who have specialized or retired.
Candice Chen, an associate professor of health policy and management at George Washington University's Fitzhugh Mullan Institute for Health Workforce Equity, used claims data that reflects one large slice of the American population — about 66 million Medicaid beneficiaries — to map the primary care workforce.
Meanwhile, Monica O'Reilly-Jacob, a nurse-scientist who recently moved from Boston College to Columbia University's School of Nursing, studied Medicare claims to conclude that fewer than 70% of physicians typically considered primary care providers were actually providing primary care. The rest, she said, often find more lucrative positions, such as subspecializing or working in hospitals. By contrast, nurse practitioners are likely undercounted. Her study found that close to half are providing primary care.
But such publicly available data leaves out much of the country, given that fewer than 40% of Americans are insured through Medicaid or Medicare.
"There's no government organization that's tracking: Who trained in what, where, and where are they now, and what are they practicing," said Alison Huffstetler, medical director of the Robert Graham Center. "And if we don't know who is doing what kind of care — and where — then there is no way for us to equitably manage the patient-to-clinician ratio across every state."
In Costilla County, Martinez finally found someone to provide primary care: an experienced physician assistant who moved from Texas in December.
The physician assistant's presence should bump the county out of its dire shortage, according to Colorado's measure. But since he isn't a physician, he'll remain invisible in the national data and Costilla County will likely remain on the books as a federal shortage area.
Data reporter Hannah Recht, data editor Holly K. Hacker, and rural editor/correspondent Tony Leys contributed to this report.
An executive at Teva Pharmaceuticals flagged Publix Super Markets in October 2015 after detecting what he called in an email "serious red flags" with the grocery chain's orders of powerful opioids.
The share of high-strength oxycodone orders was well above normal for a chain of grocery store pharmacies, and the total number of pills sent to Publix stores was "significantly above their peers," Teva's head of federal compliance wrote in the email to his supervisors, according to court records in a federal lawsuit pending in Ohio against Publix and other companies.
"This is high-strength oxycodone ultimately going to Florida, a well-established hot spot for oxycodone abuse in the U.S.," wrote the compliance officer, Joseph Tomkiewicz, in the email explaining why he halted Teva-manufactured prescription opioids to Florida's Publix pharmacies.
The volume of prescription opioids dispensed in Florida fell 56% from 2011 to 2019 as the pharmaceutical industry was hit by lawsuits for its role in the national opioid crisis, according to a Tampa Bay Times analysis of Drug Enforcement Administration data recently released by a federal court. But while national pharmacy chains like CVS and Walgreens were dispensing fewer of the highly addictive drugs, Publix's sales were soaring.
The Lakeland-based grocer's sales of oxycodone climbed from 26 million pills per year in 2011 to 43.5 million in 2019, the data shows. The increase in sales, which far outpaced the chain's addition of stores in Florida, saw its market share rise to 14%, enough to overtake CVS to become Florida's second-largest dispenser of all opioid medications, behind only Walgreens, which dispensed 28% of opioids in the state in 2019. The analysis excludes drugs like methadone prescribed for addiction treatment. Opioid sales at Publix dipped slightly in 2018 and 2019, the last two years of available data.
Even as its market share grew, however, Publix was not among the 15 national manufacturers, distributors, and pharmacies that Florida sued in 2018. That lawsuit claimed other pharmacies had flooded America with painkillers such as OxyContin, fueling debilitating addictions that strained communities' first responders and medical providers.
The state's lawsuit was a boon for Florida. While admitting to no wrongdoing, the companies agreed to settlement payments to the state, including $177 million from Teva, $440 million from CVS, and $620 million from Walgreens. The state didn't sue Walmart but in 2022 negotiated a $215 million settlement from the retail giant, which also denied any wrongdoing.
However, there is no mention of Publix's role on a state webpage touting the 10 opioid settlements reached during Ashley Moody's tenure as attorney general.
That's despite Publix being the third-biggest dispenser of opioids in the state, selling nearly twice the amount of the drugs as Walmart from 2006 to 2012, according to earlier DEA data made public in July 2019, more than two years before Florida prosecutors reached settlements with other pharmacy chains.
Moody, a Republican, took over as the state's top legal official in January 2019. Her office declined to specifically address why Florida has not included Publix in any of its legal actions over opioids.
"We are proud of the more than $3 billion recovered through the historic opioid litigation, and since the filing of the amended complaint, the Department of Legal Affairs has and will continue to take action when merited by the evidence — as we did in the more recent actions with Walmart and McKinsey," said Moody's communications director, Kylie Mason, in an email.
The grocery chain made $10.6 million in political donations in Florida from 2016 to 2022 when the state was preparing and pursuing its litigation, state election data shows. Most of the donations were for Republican committees and candidates, including $125,000 donated to the Friends of Ashley Moody political action committee.
In Florida, Walgreens made $637,000 in political donations, including $8,000 to Moody, over the same period. CVS made $208,500 in donations, none of which went to Moody.
Other local communities in Florida and beyond did sue Publix. The federal suit naming Publix that prompted the release of the federal data was filed by Georgia's Cobb County. It has been earmarked as a test case for dozens of other lawsuits brought by cities and counties in the Southeast. Those include more than 20 Florida communities, among them St. Petersburg and Pinellas and Pasco counties.
While Walgreens and other national companies paid billions to settle their lawsuits and agreed to stricter drug controls, Publix is still contesting the cases.
Those communities claim that the grocery chain failed to operate an "effective suspicious ordering monitoring program" and that when Publix did limit orders to its own pharmacies, those pharmacies could bypass the check by going to a third-party distributor such as AmerisourceBergen.
Publix also should have known that its pharmacies in Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, and South Carolina, were filling multiple prescriptions written for the same patient by the same doctor or by multiple doctors, the federal lawsuit alleges. As part of the national opioid settlement, other pharmacy chains were required to be more compliant with laws regulating opioids, including checks on suspicious orders and prescriptions from "blocked and potentially problematic" doctors.
"It's a heck of a lot cheaper to distribute and dispense controlled substances without all these checks," said Jayne Conroy, an attorney with New York law firm Simmons Hanly Conroy who is representing the Florida communities and has served as co-lead counsel in the national opioid litigation that has secured more than $50 billion in settlements and verdicts.
Publix did not respond to three emails and three phone calls to its communications office seeking comment.
In its responses to the lawsuits, it has repeatedly denied allegations of wrongdoing.
In seeking to get the Ohio case dismissed, Publix attorneys argued that it can't be considered "a public nuisance" to legally distribute and dispense opioids. The judge in the case denied the company's motion and another legal brief that sought to prevent the release of the more recent DEA data.
In November 2022, Publix sued more than a dozen of its insurers in federal court in Tampa, claiming they had not honored policies that would protect it from opioid litigation claims.
It also countersued Cobb County in 2023, saying the Georgia community's lawsuit was "motivated by promises of a windfall." The case is still pending.
"Publix takes great pride in its relationship with its valued customers and the communities it serves," that lawsuit states. "These novel and unprecedented claims are baseless, false, and belied by Publix's decades of service."
DEA officials declined to comment on Publix's opioid record. No enforcement actions against Publix are listed in the federal registry.
A Growing Player
Since its 1930 start as a food store in Winter Haven, Florida, Publix has grown into a massive company with more than 250,000 employees and nearly 900 stores in Florida alone. Revered for its free cookies for kids, chicken tender subs, fresh produce, birthday cakes, and BOGO deals, the grocery chain has become one-stop shopping for customers.
And, increasingly, "Where Shopping Is a Pleasure" — Publix's slogan since 1954 — includes powerful prescription drugs.
Publix was a smaller player in Florida's opioid market before 2011, responsible for fewer than 5% of all opioid medications distributed to pharmacies across the state, according to the Times analysis of federal opioid data.
That year marked a turning point for opioid sales in Florida. As the scale of the opioid epidemic came to public attention, and litigation followed, most chain pharmacies began to back off their orders for pills, the data shows.
Many companies ultimately agreed to pay billions of dollars to settle lawsuits filed across the country by state and local governments. That included a $683 million settlement between Florida and Walgreens in May stating the pharmacy, which denied any wrongdoing, must pay for community treatment, education, and prevention programs, plus litigation costs.
In addition to hefty payouts, some settlement agreements required companies to adopt stricter controls to bring operations into fuller compliance with the Controlled Substances Act, a federal law that governs the manufacture, distribution, and use of drugs considered to have a high risk of being abused.
Distributors were required to adopt automated software that would flag suspicious orders from pharmacies such as quantities well above a store's average. Pharmacy companies were required to conduct checks on doctors to ensure the prescribers are registered with the Drug Enforcement Administration.
Those measures and others put the brakes on opioid distribution nationwide. Meanwhile, the distribution in Florida's Publix stores went in the opposite direction: From 2011 to 2019, the grocery chain increased its dispensing of all opioid medication by 35%, according to the Times' analysis of the data.
That growth far exceeded any increase in sales that would correspond to the grocer's net addition of 146 pharmacies from 2011 to 2019.
As Publix's distribution increased, so too did the number of orders that should have been flagged as suspicious, according to plaintiffs in multiple lawsuits. Drug distributor McKesson instructed its employees to investigate any pharmacy ordering more than 8,000 oxycodone pills in a single month as part of the company's "Lifestyle Drug Monitoring Program," according to 2018 congressional testimony.
Publix pharmacies' orders surpassed that threshold almost 1,500 times in 2019, the Times analysis found, more than triple the number in 2011. The benchmark has been repeatedly used in opioid litigation as evidence of inadequate monitoring of drug distribution.
'Red Flags' Missed
As Tomkiewicz faced pressure from Teva management to fulfill Publix's orders, he mined the data to back up his concerns, court records show. During a heated phone call, one Teva executive stressed that Publix was an increasingly important player in the opioid distribution market, Tomkiewicz said at his deposition, and an important client for the world's largest generic drug manufacturer.
Tomkiewicz requested data from Publix's 10 largest pharmacies by opioid sales, all located in Florida.
By law, Publix was required to keep tabs on the physicians whose prescriptions it filled. But it took Tomkiewicz just one day of searching the internet to find problems, according to time stamps on emails submitted in the court records.
Among the top prescribers at two Publix locations in Melbourne was Thomas Velleff, according to Tomkiewicz's email. Public records and a newspaper report showed "significant anecdotal evidence of pill mill activity," Tomkiewicz wrote. He said he found a 2010 article in the Treasure Coast Palm, in which a city employee claimed Velleff's prior pain clinic in Palm City attracted "carloads" of patients, often with out-of-state license plates.
Complaints filed with the state Department of Health dating to 2010 allege that Velleff overprescribed opioids and failed to monitor his patients' usage for signs of abuse. One 2017 complaint alleges that Velleff pressured one patient into loaning him money. The state Board of Medicine revoked Velleff's medical license in December 2020. Velleff did not appear at his medical board hearing, according to the final order revoking his license. He did not respond to emails seeking comment.
A top prescriber at one Ocala store had been disciplined in 2011 for injecting herself with a sedative while leaving an anesthetized patient unsupervised. Other pharmacies repeatedly filled prescriptions from "cash-only" pain clinics or written by physicians located hundreds of miles away with no license to practice in Florida, Tomkiewicz wrote in the email. It is legal to do so, but drug diversion experts consider out-of-state prescriptions a red flag that should prompt additional checks for possible drug abuse.
Tomkiewicz had amassed a list of nine doctors among Publix's top prescribers who made him wonder: "Why the hell do they still have a license and are still registered with the DEA?" according to his deposition.
Tomkiewicz also said in his deposition he was troubled by not just the volume of opioids Publix was selling, but that they were handing out a disproportionate share of 30-milligram instant-release oxycodone pills — another red flag for abuse. In an email to Teva's director of compliance, he compared that with the Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa, where cancer patients were mostly being prescribed 5 mg instant-release pills, court records show.
As the strongest dose on the market, the 30 mg pills have limited use in retail pharmacies and are highly sought-after among abusers, Tomkiewicz wrote in the email. Stronger doses of oxycodone are available, but only in long-release capsules such as OxyContin, according to the U.S. National Institutes of Health.
Publix sold 4.8 million of the highly addictive high-dose pills in 2019 — roughly 1 in 10 of all oxycodone pills dispensed by the pharmacy chain that year, according to the Times analysis of the federal data.
Eventually, Tomkiewicz relented, he said in his deposition. As long as Publix promised not to send Teva products to nine locations that he'd picked out, he would let the shipment go ahead. Teva did not notify federal authorities, according to his deposition.
A Times review of court documents found no written record indicating that Publix responded to Tomkiewicz's concerns at the time. An expert report submitted in the lawsuit came to the same conclusion.
Tampa Bay Times staff writer Ian Hodgson previously worked for a research company, Cornerstone Research, that had a client relationship with Teva Pharmaceuticals. This article was produced in partnership with the Tampa Bay Times.
Methodology
For comparison and dosing purposes, it is standard practice to convert opioid medications to an equivalent dose of morphine. Every shipment of opioids in the federal database is reported as both the number of pills and its morphine milligram equivalent, or "MME." This story uses that standard to calculate increases in the number of pills dispensed and compare the volume of pills prescribed by different pharmacy chains.
New York City pledged this week to pay down $2 billion worth of residents' medical debt. In doing so, it has come around to an innovation, started in the Midwest, that's ridding millions of Americans of healthcare debt.
The idea of local government erasing debt emerged a couple of years ago in Cook County, Illinois, home to Chicago. Toni Preckwinkle, president of the county board of commissioners, says two staffers came to her with a bold proposal: The county could spend a portion of its federal pandemic rescue funds to ease a serious burden on its residents.
In 2022, Cook County became the first local government to partner with RIP Medical Debt, a nonprofit group that uses private donor funds to buy up and forgive patient debt.
RIP's model turns debt collection on its head. Normally, debt collectors buy unpaid bills and then try to collect the money owed. RIP identifies unpaid hospital bills owed by people making up to four times the federal poverty level, then buys that debt on secondary markets or directly from hospitals at a small fraction of the original value. Instead of trying to collect, RIP forgives it — so it simply disappears for the patients.
In the Chicago area, as across the country, medical debt is an ongoing problem, causing mental and financial strain that can follow patients for years. An estimated 100 million people in the U.S. carry some form of healthcare debt, KFF Health News and NPR reported in 2022.
Preckwinkle said the RIP model dovetailed nicely with Cook County's healthcare mission. For nearly two centuries, the county has funded its own hospital and health system, Cook County Health, in part to provide care to all residents, regardless of income.
"We have a legacy commitment to delivering quality healthcare to people without regard to their ability to pay," Preckwinkle said.
She said that healthcare mission eats up nearly half of the county's $9.3 billion annual budget. It is now in the process of spending $12 million — a tiny portion of its budget — to retire $1 billion worth of hospital bills for residents.
Since Cook County announced its program, seven other local governments have followed suit, including Ohio cities Akron, Cleveland, and Toledo; New Orleans; Wayne County, Michigan; Washington, D.C.; and now New York City, which announced its commitment Jan. 22.
During his announcement, New York Mayor Eric Adams noted that medical debt disproportionately affects Black and Hispanic people, who are more likely to be uninsured or underinsured. For the city's low-income residents, he said, "taking on medical debt isn't a choice."
"Working-class families often have to choose between paying their medical bills or some of the basic essentials that they need to go through life," he said.
RIP is in talks with 30 other municipalities and states, including Connecticut, New Jersey, and Michigan.
Typically, RIP can retire at least $100 worth of debt for every $1 of government funds, so the local initiatives could end up wiping out several billion dollars in medical debt. The software selects eligible patients who remain anonymous, so it's hard to know what the impact of eliminating that debt might be across a community, or for the families that benefit.
Allison Sesso, CEO of RIP Medical Debt, acknowledged that debt is one of many factors contributing to unequal access to healthcare, and as hospital costs continue to rise, new debts are also piling up perhaps faster than her group can retire it. She said RIP hopes to retire $2.5 billion worth of unpaid medical bills through various government initiatives this year, but that's a drop in the bucket of the $195 billion estimated medical debt held by Americans.
"I'm under no illusions," Sesso said. "I don't think what I'm doing is the solution to getting rid of medical debt, writ large."
An Unusual Move for Local Government
Amber Clapsaddle said having the city of Toledo eliminate a $1,500 medical bill of hers from three years ago has given her hope.
In the past, Clapsaddle said, she looked down on those who didn't pay their bills. "I was like, ‘I'll never do that,' and I judged people really hard," she said.
Then, several years ago, her entire family of five each got sick one after another, requiring numerous surgeries, ultrasounds, and diagnostic tests. She had insurance, but she and her husband, a warehouse worker, couldn't meet the $6,000 deductible. Clapsaddle, a social worker, realized why medical debt is such a prevalent problem: "It just takes one bill, one bad insurance plan, just one extra diagnosis to have it all fall apart."
When Toledo's program with RIP forgave some of her family's debt two months ago, she cried with joy and relief. She said that motivated her to negotiate with doctors' offices and her insurance company to try to prevent herself from getting into debt again. "It's the spark that lights the fire of getting out of medical debt," she said.
Debt forgiveness is an unusual solution for local governments. More are taking it on, aided by access to federal pandemic rescue funds through the American Rescue Plan Act of 2021, and RIP Medical Debt offered a quick and easy fix to distribute those funds to those most burdened by medical expenses.
Nationally, medical debt is shown to disproportionately affect people of color and people who earn less. It also contributes to a vicious health cycle, discouraging patients from seeking preventive or follow-up care, leading to worse and more expensive outcomes.
Cook County's Preckwinkle said the pandemic only deepened racial and income gaps that affect people's access to healthcare.
"I always talk about the fact that medical debt is the leading cause of bankruptcy in the United States," she said.
Getting Down to the Root Causes of Debt
Medical debt is being created at high rates, Sesso said, and stronger policies — such as protecting consumers and strengthening insurance coverage — are needed to stop it at its source.
Often that boils down to high prices charged by hospitals and providers.
As Adams, the New York City mayor, put it: "You know, not only do you hold your breath when you go into a hospital or a doctor's office and wait for a diagnosis, you continue to hold your breath when you see the bill and what it costs, particularly for low-income New Yorkers."
The idea of forgiving medical debt has broad political support, said Sesso, perhaps because the issue affects people of all political stripes. A recent RIP survey, she said, showed that "84% of people agreed that it is the responsibility of government to ensure healthcare is affordable, and that position is held by people on the left and the right."
The enduring benefit of the recent local government initiatives is that they have helped draw more attention to the problem, raising its profile in useful ways, she said. "I think the issue of medical debt is becoming a priority, local governments are talking about it," and that is leading to other conversations about what else they can do to get more eligible families insured through Medicaid, or through the Affordable Care Act insurance marketplace, for example.
It is also inspiring programs like one recently adopted by Milwaukee County, in which it's urging more hospitals and health systems to use credit reports to screen and automatically enroll eligible patients in financial assistance programs. These programs already exist to help reduce medical expenses for patients making up to three times the poverty level, but often patients are unaware or not told to apply for them.
By automating the process, as many as 50% more patients may receive free or reduced-cost care, so they have a better chance of avoiding incurring medical debt in the first place, said Shawn Rolland, a member of Milwaukee County's board of supervisors.
"Why make it more difficult than necessary to get enrolled?" he said. "Because ultimately this will make it more likely that they'll come back for preventative care."
About This Project
"Diagnosis: Debt" is a reporting partnership between KFF Health News and NPR exploring the scale, impact, and causes of medical debt in America.
The series draws on original polling by KFF, court records, federal data on hospital finances, contracts obtained through public records requests, data on international health systems, and a yearlong investigation into the financial assistance and collection policies of more than 500 hospitals across the country.
Additional research was conducted by the Urban Institute, which analyzed credit bureau and other demographic data on poverty, race, and health status for KFF Health News to explore where medical debt is concentrated in the U.S. and what factors are associated with high debt levels.
The JPMorgan Chase Institute analyzed records from a sampling of Chase credit card holders to look at how customers' balances may be affected by major medical expenses. And the CED Project, a Denver nonprofit, worked with KFF Health News on a survey of its clients to explore links between medical debt and housing instability.
KFF Health News journalists worked with KFF public opinion researchers to design and analyze the "KFF healthcare Debt Survey." The survey was conducted Feb. 25 through March 20, 2022, online and via telephone, in English and Spanish, among a nationally representative sample of 2,375 U.S. adults, including 1,292 adults with current healthcare debt and 382 adults who had healthcare debt in the past five years. The margin of sampling error is plus or minus 3 percentage points for the full sample and 3 percentage points for those with current debt. For results based on subgroups, the margin of sampling error may be higher.
Reporters from KFF Health News and NPR also conducted hundreds of interviews with patients across the country; spoke with physicians, health industry leaders, consumer advocates, debt lawyers, and researchers; and reviewed scores of studies and surveys about medical debt.