A growing number of states have made it easier for doctors who trained in other countries to get medical licenses, a shift supporters say could ease physician shortages in rural areas.
The changes involve residency programs — the supervised, hands-on training experience that doctors must complete after graduating medical school. Until recently, every state required physicians who completed a residency or similar training abroad to repeat the process in the U.S. before obtaining a full medical license.
Since 2023, at least nine states have dropped this requirement for some doctors with international training, according to the Federation of State Medical Boards. More than a dozen other states are considering similar legislation.
About 26% of doctors who practice in the U.S. were born elsewhere, according to the Migration Policy Institute. They need federal visas to live in the U.S., plus state licenses to practice medicine.
Proponents of the new laws say qualified doctors shouldn't have to spend years completing a second residency training. Opponents worry about patient safety and doubt the licensing change will ease the doctor shortage.
Lawmakers in Republican- and Democratic-leaning states have approved the idea at a time when many other immigration-related programs are under attack. They include Florida, Iowa, Idaho, Illinois, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Tennessee, Virginia, and Wisconsin.
President Donald Trump has defended a federal visa program that many foreign doctors rely on, but they could still be hampered by his broad efforts to tighten immigration rules.
Supporters of the new licensing laws include Zalmai Afzali, an internal medicine doctor who finished medical school and a residency program in Afghanistan before fleeing the Taliban and coming to the U.S. in 2001.
He said most physicians trained elsewhere would be happy to work in rural or other underserved areas.
"I would go anywhere as long as they let me work," said Afzali, who now treats patients who live in rural areas and small cities in northeastern Virginia. "I missed being a physician. I missed what I did."
It took Afzali 12 years to obtain copies of his diploma and transcript, study for exams, and finish a three-year U.S.-based residency program before he could be fully licensed to practice as a doctor in his new country.
But a commission of national health organizations questions whether loosening residency requirements for foreign-trained doctors would ease the shortage. Doctors in these programs could still face licensing and employment barriers, it wrote in a report that makes recommendations without taking a stance on such legislation.
Erin Fraher, a health policy professor at the University of North Carolina who advises the commission and studies the issue, said lawmakers who support the changes predict they will boost the rural health workforce. But it's unclear whether that will happen, she said, because the programs are just getting started.
"I think the potential is there, but we need to see how this pans out," Fraher said.
Afzali struggled to support his family while trying to get his medical license. His jobs included working at a department store for $7.25 an hour and administering chemotherapy for $20 an hour. Afzali said nurse practitioners at the latter job had less training than him but earned nearly four times as much.
"I do not know how I did it," he said. "I mean, you get really depressed."
Many of the state bills to ease residency requirements have been based on model legislation from the Cicero Institute, a conservative think tank that sent representatives to testify to legislatures after proposing such programs in 2020.
The new pathways are open only to internationally trained physicians who meet certain conditions. Common requirements include working as a physician for several years after graduating from a medical school and residency program with similar rigor to those found in the U.S. They also must pass the standard three-part exam that all physicians take to become licensed in the U.S.
Those who qualify are granted a restricted license to practice, and most states require them to do so under supervision of another physician. They can receive full licensure after several years.
About 10 of the laws or bills also require the doctors to work for several years in a rural or underserved area.
But states without this requirement, such as Tennessee, may not see an impact in rural areas, researchers from Harvard Medical School and Rand Corp. argued in the New England Journal of Medicine. In addition to including that condition, states could offer incentives to rural hospitals that agree to hire doctors from the new training pathways, they wrote.
Lawmakers, physicians, and health organizations that oppose the changes say there are better ways to safely increase the number of rural doctors.
Barbara Parker is a registered nurse and former Republican lawmaker in Arizona, where the legislature is considering a bill for at least the fourth year in a row.
"It's a really poor answer to the doctor shortage," said Parker, who voted against the legislation last year.
Parker said making it easier for foreign-trained physicians to practice in the U.S. would unethically poach doctors from countries with greater health care needs. And she said she doubts that all international residencies are on par with those in the U.S. and worries that granting licenses to physicians who trained in them could lead to poor care for patients.
She is also concerned that hospitals are trying to save money by recruiting internationally trained doctors over those trained in the U.S. The former often will accept lower pay, Parker said.
"This is driven by corporate greed," she said.
Parker said better ways to increase the number of rural doctors include raising pay, expanding loan repayment programs for those who practice in rural areas, and creating accelerated training for nurse practitioners and physician assistants who want to become doctors.
The advisory commission — recently formed by the Federation of State Medical Boards, the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education, and Intealth, a nonprofit that evaluates international medical schools and their graduates — published its recommendations to help lawmakers and medical boards make sure these new pathways are safe and effective.
The commission and Fraher said state medical boards should collect data on the new rules, such as how many doctors participate, what their specialties are, and where they work once they gain their full licenses. The results could be compared with other methods of easing the rural doctor shortage, such as adding residency programs at rural hospitals.
"What is the benefit of this particular pathway relative to other levers that they have?" Fraher said.
The commission noted that while state medical boards can rely on an outside organization that evaluates the strength of foreign medical schools, there isn't a similar rating for residency programs. Such an effort is expected to launch in mid-2025, the commission said.
The group also said states should require supervising physicians to evaluate participants before they're granted a full license.
Afzali, the physician from Afghanistan, said some internationally trained primary care doctors have more training than their U.S. counterparts, because they had to practice procedures that are done only by specialists in the U.S.
But he agreed with the commission's recommendation that states require doctors who did residencies abroad to have supervision while they hold a provisional license. That would help ensure patient safety while also helping the physicians adjust to cultural differences and learn the technical side of the U.S. health system, such as billing and electronic health records, the commission wrote.
Fraher noted that doctors in programs with supervision requirements need to find an experienced colleague with the time and interest in providing this oversight at a health facility willing to hire them.
The commission pointed out other potential hurdles, such as malpractice insurers possibly declining to cover physicians who obtain state licenses without completing a U.S. residency. The commission and the American Board of Medical Specialties also pointed to the issue of specialty certification, which is managed by national organizations that have their own residency requirements.
Physicians who aren't eligible to take board exams could lose out on employment opportunities, and patients might have concerns about their qualifications, the board wrote. But it said a majority of its member boards would consider certifying these doctors if states added requirements it recommended.
Lawmakers' plans to use these new licensing pathways to increase the number of rural doctors will require the foreign-trained doctors to navigate all these obstacles and unknowns, Fraher said.
"There's a lot of things that need to happen to make this a reality," she said.
Jagdish Whitten was on a run in July 2023 when a car hit him as he crossed a busy San Francisco street. Whitten, then 25, described doing "a little flip" over the vehicle and landing in the street before getting himself to the curb.
Concerned onlookers called an ambulance. But Whitten instead had friends pick him up and take him to a nearby hospital, the Helen Diller Medical Center, operated by the University of California-San Francisco.
"I knew that ambulances were expensive, and I didn't think I was going to die," he said.
Whitten said doctors treated him for a mild concussion, a broken toe, and bruises.
As he sat in a hospital bed, attached to an IV and wearing a neck brace, Whitten said, doctors told him that because he had suffered a traumatic injury, they had to send him by ambulance to the city's only trauma center, Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital.
After a short ambulance ride, Whitten said, emergency room doctors checked him out, told him he had already received appropriate treatment, and released him.
Then the bill came.
The Medical Procedure
Traumatic injuries are those that threaten life or limb, and some facilities specialize in providing care for them. For someone hit by a car, that can include stabilizing vital signs, screening for internal injuries, and treating broken bones and concussions. Zuckerberg Hospital is a Level 1 trauma center, meaning it can provide any care needed for severely injured patients.
In emergency medicine, it is standard to transfer patients to centers best equipped to provide care. Ambulances are typically used for transfers because they are able to handle trauma patients, with tools to aid in resuscitation, immobilization, and life support.
At the first hospital, Whitten said, doctors performed a thorough workup, including a CT scan and X-rays, and advised him to follow up with his primary care physician and an orthopedic doctor. He was evaluated at the second hospital and released without additional treatment, he said.
The Final Bill
$12,872.99 for a 6-mile ambulance ride between hospitals: a $11,670.11 base rate, $737.16 for mileage, $314.45 for EKG monitoring, and $151.27 for "infection control."
The Billing Problem: Surprise Bills Are Common With Ground Ambulances
Ground ambulance services are operated by a hodgepodge of private and public entities — with no uniform structure, or regulatory oversight, for billing — and most function outside insurance networks. Patients don't typically have a choice of ambulance provider.
There are state and federal laws shielding patients from out-of-network ambulance bills, but none of those protections applied in Whitten's case.
Whitten was insured under his father's employer-sponsored health plan from Anthem Blue Cross. So when he received a nearly $13,000 bill months after his short transfer ride, he sent a photo of it to his dad.
Brian Whitten said the bills from the two hospitals — and the family's out-of-pocket responsibility — were in line with what he had anticipated. But he was stunned by his son's ambulance bill from AMR, one of the nation's largest ambulance providers. Anthem Blue Cross denied the claim, saying the ambulance was out-of-network and required pre-authorization.
"It didn't make a whole lot of sense to me, because the doctor is the one who put him in the ambulance," Brian Whitten said. "It's not like somehow he just decided, ‘Hey, can I take an ambulance ride?'"
Kristen Bole, a UCSF spokesperson, said in a statement that the health system's standard of care is to stabilize patients and, when appropriate, transfer them to other medical facilities that are most appropriate to care for patients' needs, adding that ambulance transfers between hospitals are standard practice.
While the medical system at large relies on negotiated prices for services, ambulance services operate largely outside of the competitive marketplace, said Patricia Kelmar, senior director of health care campaigns for PIRG, a nonpartisan consumer protection and good-government advocacy organization.
Ambulance transfers between hospitals to ensure the highest quality of care available are fairly common, Kelmar said. And with many hospitals being purchased and consolidated, it would follow that the number of ambulance transfers between facilities could increase as specialized medical units at any given hospital are downsized or eliminated, she said.
According to a study of private insurance claims data conducted in 2023, about 80% of ground ambulance rides resulted in out-of-network billing.
Generally, out-of-network providers may charge patients for the remainder of their bill after insurance pays. In some cases, patients can be on the hook even when they did not knowingly choose the out-of-network provider. These bills are known as "surprise" bills.
"It's a financial burden, a significant financial burden," said Kelmar, who is a member of the committee created to advise federal lawmakers on surprise bills and emergency ambulance transportation.
Eighteen states have implemented laws regulating surprise ambulance billing. A California law cracking down on surprise ambulance billing took effect on Jan. 1, 2024 — months after Jagdish Whitten's ambulance ride.
But Kelmar said those state laws don't really help people with employer-sponsored insurance, because those plans are beyond state control — which is why federal legislation is so important, she said.
As of 2022, federal law protects patients from receiving some surprise bills, especially for emergency services. But while lawmakers included protections against air ambulance bills in the law, known as the No Surprises Act, they excluded ground ambulance transports.
The Resolution
Whitten's father filed an insurance appeal on his son's behalf, which Anthem granted. The insurer paid AMR $9,966.60.
Michael Bowman, a spokesperson for Anthem, said AMR had not submitted all the information it required to process the claim, leading to the initial denial. After consulting with AMR, Anthem paid its coverage amount, Bowman said.
But the insurer's payment still left Whitten with a $2,906.39 bill for his out-of-network ambulance ride. Brian Whitten said he called an AMR customer service number several times to contest the remaining charges but was unable to bypass its automated system and speak with a human.
"I couldn't find a way to talk to somebody about this bill other than how to pay it, and I didn't want to pay it," he said.
Unsuccessful and frustrated, Brian Whitten paid the remaining bill in January 2024, he said, concerned it would be turned over to a collection agency and hurt his son's credit — and his well-being.
There was one more twist: He was shocked when he later reviewed his credit card statements and discovered that AMR had quietly but fully refunded his payment in October.
"It's amazing that he got his money back," Kelmar said. "That's what's shocking."
In a statement, Suzie Robinson, vice president of revenue cycle management with AMR, said the company's third-party billing agency regularly performs audits to ensure accuracy. An audit of Jagdish Whitten's bill "revealed that the care provided did not meet the criteria for critical care," Robinson said, which prompted the full refund.
Robinson said audits indicated fewer than 1% of its 4 million medical encounters annually are billed incorrectly.
The Takeaway
Robinson said patients who feel that AMR has billed them incorrectly should contact the company via email.
For patients in need of an ambulance in an emergency, there are few protections — and usually few options: Sometimes you don't have a better choice than to get in.
Federal protections require that health plans cover certain surprise bills, with patients paying only what they would if they had received in-network care. Expanding those protections to ground ambulance bills would require Congress to act.
Ambulance providers deserve to be appropriately compensated for their vital role in our medical system, Kelmar said. But the system as it stands almost incentivizes providers to charge a higher rate, which can lead to surprise billing and financial hardship for patients and their families, she said.
Kelmar said she worries not just about the debt those bills create for consumers but also that people may decline vital ambulance transportation in an emergency, for fear of getting hit with an exorbitant bill.
"We just need to bring some sense back to the system," she said.
Bill of the Month is a crowdsourced investigation by KFF Health News and The Washington Post's Well+Being that dissects and explains medical bills. Since 2018, this series has helped many patients and readers get their medical bills reduced, and it has been cited in statehouses, at the U.S. Capitol, and at the White House. Do you have a confusing or outrageous medical bill you want to share? Tell us about it!
The lobby at this St. John's Community Health clinic in South Los Angeles bustles with patients. But community health worker Ana Ruth Varela is worried that it's about to get a lot quieter. Many patients, she said, are afraid to leave their homes.
"The other day I spoke with one of the patients. She said: 'I don't know. Should I go to my appointment? Should I cancel? I don't know what to do.' And I said, 'Just come.'"
Since Donald Trump's return to the White House, fear of mass deportations carried out by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement has gripped immigrant communities.
For years, a long-standing policy prevented federal immigration agents from making arrests at or near sensitive locations, including schools, places of worship, hospitals, and health centers. It was one of the first policies Trump rolled back in January, just hours after his inauguration.
Acting Department of Homeland Security Secretary Benjamine Huffman revoked the directive on Jan. 21. In an accompanying press release, a DHS spokesperson said the action would assist agents searching for immigrants who have committed crimes. "The Trump Administration will not tie the hands of our brave law enforcement, and instead trusts them to use common sense," the statement said.
The speed of the change took Darryn Harris by surprise.
"I thought we had more time," said Harris, chief government affairs and community relations officer for St. John's.
Harris is racing to teach more than 1,000 St. John's workers how to read warrants as they train for a new role — teaching patients their constitutional rights.
California Attorney General Rob Bonta, a Democrat, is advising clinics to post information about patients' right to remain silent and to provide patients with contact information for legal-aid groups.
Bonta is also urging health care providers to avoid including patients' immigration status in bills and medical records. His office directs that while staff should not physically obstruct immigration agents, they are under no obligation to assist with an arrest.
Even though immigration arrests took place in hospitals during Trump's first term, the overall policy was still one of deference to "sensitive locations." Now, however, DHS states that the previous rules hindered law enforcement efforts by creating sites where people without legal status could evade capture.
Matt Lopas, director of state advocacy and technical assistance for the National Immigration Law Center, said that in order for immigration officers to access health information or go into private spaces such as exam rooms, they must present a warrant signed by a judge.
"It's incredibly important that every health care center has somebody who is trained to be able to read those warrants" and determine their validity, Lopas said.
In the San Francisco Bay Area, Zenaida Aguilera has been tapped to read warrants for La Clínica de La Raza. She is the compliance, privacy, and risk officer for the clinic network. If immigration agents show up, she's on call for all 31 of the organization's community clinics.
Aguilera is also now in charge of training hundreds of health staffers. She has trained about 250 thus far, but the majority of that work is yet to come.
"We have about, probably, a thousand more staff," she said.
She fears the Trump administration will target California for immigration enforcement because of its approximately 2 million residents without legal status, the highest of any state, according to the Pew Research Center. In 2022, 11 million people were in the U.S. without authorization.
Aguilera said La Clínica plans to post patients' constitutional rights in clinic lobbies and will provide resources such as contact information for legal-aid groups.
"We would like to just do the work of caring for our patients rather than train our staff on what to do if there's an ICE official that tries to come into our clinics," Aguilera said.
This article is from a partnership that includes NPR and KFF Health News.
HELENA, Mont. — Despite concerns about what Congress and the Trump administration might have planned for Medicaid, Montana's Republican-led legislature and GOP governor appear ready to keep the state's Medicaid expansion program in place beyond its scheduled end date this summer.
State lawmakers don't have the luxury of waiting until the federal picture sharpens. They must decide before the session ends in early May whether to lift a June 30 sunset date for the expansion program, which covers about 76,000 adults.
However, the likelihood that significant changes lie ahead for the joint federal-state Medicaid program has spurred discussion of whether legislators should — or can — prepare for what may be coming. That's the challenge for lawmakers this session, said Republican state Rep. Jane Gillette during a recent meeting of the budget subcommittee she chairs that works on the Medicaid budget.
"What are the different options we have for bracing ourselves for that?" Gillette said.
The U.S. House is working on a budget bill to reflect President Donald Trump's priorities, including allocating up to $4.5 trillion to extend tax cuts that would otherwise expire.
A plan passed by the House Budget Committee on Feb. 13 calls for $880 billion in cuts over the next 10 years for the committee that oversees, among other things, Medicaid spending. Ideas reportedly under discussion include federal work requirements for some Medicaid enrollees and a decrease in the share of costs the federal government pays for people covered by the expansion program.
Some of the proposals would shift significant costs to the states, noted Robin Rudowitz, a vice president and the director of the Program on Medicaid and the Uninsured at KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes KFF Health News. If that happens, states will need to raise revenue or cut spending elsewhere to continue the same level of Medicaid coverage, she said.
There are "no easy answers or options for states in these scenarios," she said.
The GOP-controlled Montana House of Representatives easily passed a bill to make the Medicaid expansion program permanent on Feb. 10 by a 63-37 vote. Then on Feb. 20, House Bill 245 passed the first of two votes required for Senate approval. Gov. Greg Gianforte has not publicly said whether he would sign the bill, but he previously said he believes the expansion program should continue if strong work requirements are in place.
In late January, the budget subcommittee that Gillette chairs was reviewing Medicaid expansion's financial implications when talk quickly turned to the possible federal changes, particularly a drop in the federal matching rate.
Republican state Sen. Carl Glimm noted that observers have called a lower federal matching rate "pretty low-hanging fruit." The change would require congressional action, though, and members noted that could take time.
The federal government pays 90% of the health care costs of expansion enrollees. That group is made up of adults ages 19 to 64 without disabilities and who have annual incomes at or below 138% of the federal poverty level, or $21,597 for an individual.
Until the federal Affordable Care Act allowed states to extend Medicaid to this group, the program was generally limited to low-income children, pregnant women, and adults who are blind, disabled, or at least 65. The federal match for those groups in Montana will be about 62% in the next state fiscal year, which begins in July.
The state spent nearly $1 billion on Medicaid expansion in 2024, with its share of the costs totaling just under $100 million. Budget committee staff said a 10% reduction in the federal share would add roughly $100 million in state costs. If the state's share goes from 10% to the regular state match of 38%, the state would pay about $280 million more a year for expansion.
Subcommittee member Russ Tempel, a Republican senator, noted that the federal share changed in the past due to unexpected events, such as covid-19.
"Something's going to happen that's unpredictable," he said. "It's happened before, and it's going to happen again, so we're kind of a little bit shooting in the dark."
But Republican Sen. Jeremy Trebas focused on the likely federal changes when urging senators to support his bill to tighten the work requirements in current law and, if federal approval were denied, eventually end the program.
"We should match up our state policy to coming federal policy so that we're not caught off guard and expectations aren't radically altered by what the federal government does," he said during a committee hearing on Senate Bill 199.
The bill died last week on the Senate floor when all Democrats voted against it, along with a block of nine Republicans who have broken with their party on other issues this session. Roughly the same coalition also killed a bill by Glimm that would have phased out the expansion.
Trebas said recently he expects HB 245 to pass but also believes that federal Medicaid changes could happen more quickly than some think possible, forcing a special Montana legislative session to adjust to those changes.
Gillette, who voted against HB 245, said in a recent interview that the legislature should provide the Gianforte administration with a range of options to allow it to "course correct" without further legislative involvement if Medicaid expansion continues and federal changes come down before the legislature meets again in 2027.
State Senate President Matt Regier introduced a bill Feb. 15 to limit the expansion population to people below 100% of the federal poverty level and to give the state health agency the ability to limit spending or improve program integrity.
Regier's bill also would make the expansion program contingent on the federal government approving a "community engagement" waiver, which includes work requirements, and it calls for lawmakers to vote on whether to hold a special session if the federal Medicaid matching rate drops more than three months before the next regular session.
But HB 245 sponsor Rep. Ed Buttrey, another Republican, said in a recent interview that existing law takes care of any future decrease in federal support by requiring either the state to increase premiums for the program or the legislature to appropriate additional funds if the program is to continue.
Buttrey also said the legislature can't make decisions now based on what federal law might be in the future. He said it's unlikely that federal Medicaid policy would change quickly, but that if it did, the program affects such a large percentage of the state's population that a special session would be warranted.
"I can't think of one that's more important than that," he said.
Republicans, who narrowly control Congress, are pushing proposals that could sharply cut funding to the government health insurance program for poor and disabled Americans, as a way to finance President Donald Trump's agenda for tax cuts and border security.
Democrats, hoping to block the GOP's plans and preserve Medicaid funding, are rallying support from hospitals, governors, and consumer advocates.
At stake is coverage for roughly 79 million people enrolled in Medicaid and its related Children's Health Insurance Program. So, too, is the financial health of thousands of hospitals and community health centers — and a huge revenue source to all states.
On Feb. 13, the House Budget Committee voted to seek at least $880 billion in mandatory spending cuts on programs overseen by the House Energy and Commerce Committee. That committee oversees Medicaid, which is expected to bear much of the cuts.
Senate Republicans, working on their own plan, have not proposed similar deep cuts. Sen. Ron Wyden of Oregon, the Finance Committee's top Democrat, said he expects "an effort to keep the Medicaid cuts hidden behind the curtain, but they're going to come sooner or later."
Since Trump took office, Republicans in Washington have discussed making changes to Medicaid, particularly by requiring that enrollees prove they are working. Because most enrollees already work, go to school, or serve as caregivers or have a disability, critics say such a requirement would simply add red tape to obtaining coverage, with little impact on employment.
Other GOP ideas that could gain traction toward meeting budget-cutting goals include reducing the federal government's share of costs for certain enrollees or for the program overall.
Both Trump and House Speaker Mike Johnson say they are only trying to cut what they describe as "waste, fraud, and abuse" in the program, but have yet to offer examples or specifics.
Trump has said he would "love and cherish" Medicaid along with Medicare. During a Fox News interview that aired Feb. 18, Trump repeated his assurance that Medicaid, along with Social Security and Medicare, was not "going to be touched."
Known as the workhorse of the U.S. health system, Medicaid covers Americans from the beginning of life to the end — paying for 4 in 10 births and care costs for more than 60% of nursing home residents. The program operates as a state-federal partnership, with the federal government paying most of the money and matching state funds regardless of how many people enroll.
Medicaid, which turns 60 this summer, was created as part of President Lyndon B. Johnson's "Great Society" strategy to attack poverty along with Medicare, the federal health insurance program for people 65 and older.
In today's era of extreme partisanship on Capitol Hill, few topics highlight the ideological chasm between the major political parties better than Medicaid.
Unlike Democrats who view Medicaid as a way to ensure health care is affordable and accessible regardless of income, many Republicans in Washington see Medicaid as a broken and wasteful welfare program that's grown too big and covers millions of adults who don't deserve the government assistance. Many Republicans in Congress say "able-bodied" adults could get coverage from a job or by purchasing insurance on their own.
Nearly all Republicans opposed the 2010 Affordable Care Act, which expanded Medicaid by offering coverage to millions of low-income adults and helped edge the country closer to Democrats' long-sought goal of all Americans having health coverage. In exchange for expanding Medicaid, the federal government offered states a larger funding match to cover those individuals.
But while most Republican-controlled states accepted the federal expansion dollars — some only after voters approved ballot initiatives in favor of Medicaid expansion — GOP leaders in Congress have remained steadfastly against the program's growth.
When Republicans last controlled Congress and the White House, the party sought big cuts to Medicaid as part of efforts in 2017 to repeal and replace the ACA. That campaign failed by a razor-thin margin, partly due to concerns from some congressional Republicans over how it would harm Medicaid and the private industry of health plans and hospitals that benefit from it.
Now, a more conservative GOP caucus has again put a bull's-eye on Medicaid's budget, which has grown by at least $300 billion in eight years due largely to the covid pandemic and the decision by more states to expand Medicaid. The House budget plan seeks to free up $4.5 trillion to renew Trump's 2017 tax cuts, which expire at the end of this year.
"Medicaid is increasingly caught in the middle of partisan polarization in Washington," said Jonathan Oberlander, a health policy professor at the University of North Carolina and the editor of the Journal of Health Politics, Policy and Law. "This is not just resistance to the ACA's Medicaid expansion; it is a broader change in the politics of Medicaid that puts the program in a more precarious place."
Medicaid presents a tempting target for Republicans for several reasons beyond its sheer size, Oberlander said. "The first is fiscal arithmetic: They need Medicaid savings to help pay for the costs of extending the 2017 tax cuts," he said, noting Trump has taken off the table cuts to Medicare, Social Security, and national defense — the other most costly government programs.
The GOP cuts would also help scale back the program, which covered 93 million people at its apex during the covid pandemic, when states were prohibited for three years from terminating coverage for any enrollee. Oberlander said the cuts also would allow Republicans to strike a blow against the ACA, often called Obamacare.
Republicans' latest revamping effort comes as Medicaid expansion has become entrenched in most states — and their budgets — over the past decade. Without federal expansion dollars, states would struggle to afford coverage for low-income people on the program without raising taxes, cutting benefits, or slashing spending on other programs such as education.
And since Trump's first-term effort to cut Medicaid, additional red states such as Utah, Oklahoma, Idaho, and Missouri have expanded the program, helping drop the nation's uninsured rate to a record low in recent years.
Medicaid is popular. About 3 in 4 Americans view the program favorably, according to a January 2025 KFF poll. That's similar to polling from 2017.
Here are a few strategies the GOP reportedly is considering to reduce the size of Medicaid:
Cutting ACA Medicaid funding. Through Medicaid expansion, the ACA provided financing for the program to cover adults with incomes up to 138% of the federal poverty level, or $21,597 for an individual. The federal government pays 90% of the cost for adults covered through the expansion, which 40 states and Washington, D.C., have adopted. The GOP could lower that funding to the same match rate the federal government pays states for everyone else in the program, which averages about 60%.
Shifting to block or per capita grants. Either of these two proposals could lower federal funding for states to operate Medicaid while giving states more discretion over how to spend the money. Annual block grants would give states a set amount, regardless of the number of enrollees. Per capita grants would pay the states based on the number of enrollees in each state. Currently, the federal government matches a certain percentage of state spending each year with no cap. Limiting the federal funding would hamper Medicaid's ability to help states during difficult economic times, when demand for coverage rises with falling employment and incomes, while states also have fewer tax dollars to spend.
Adding work requirements. Republicans in Washington are looking to insert work requirements into federal law. During Trump's first term, his administration allowed several states to condition coverage for adults on whether they were working, unless they met exemptions such as caregiving or going to school. Arkansas became the first to implement the measure, leading to 18,000 people losing coverage there. Federal judges ruled in 2018 that Medicaid law does not allow for work requirements in the program, which stopped efforts by Trump and several states to impose them in his first term. Several states are taking steps to add a requirement, including Ohio and Montana.
Lawrence Jacobs, founder and director of the University of Minnesota's Center for the Study of Politics and Governance, said Republicans will face challenges within their own ranks to make major Medicaid cuts, noting House members may be hesitant to cut Medicaid if warned it could lead to hospital closures in their district.
America's Essential Hospitals, a trade group representing safety-net hospitals that treat the disadvantaged, is encouraging its members to reach out to their lawmakers to make sure they know not only the cuts' potential impact on patients, but also how they could lead to job cuts and service reductions affecting entire communities.
"The level of cuts being discussed would be incredibly damaging and catastrophic for our hospitals," said Beth Feldpush, the group's senior vice president of policy and advocacy.
Said Jacobs: "The politics of cutting Medicaid is really quite fraught, and it's hard to make a prediction about what will happen at this point."
We'd like to speak with current and former personnel from the Department of Health and Human Services or its component agencies who believe the public should understand the impact of what's happening within the federal health bureaucracy. Please message KFF Health News on Signal at (415) 519-8778 or get in touch here.
When Colleen Henderson's 3-year-old daughter complained of pain while using the bathroom, doctors brushed it off as a urinary tract infection or constipation, common maladies in the potty-training years.
After being told her health insurance wouldn't cover an ultrasound, Henderson charged the $6,000 procedure to her credit card. Then came the news: There was a grapefruit-sized tumor in her toddler's bladder.
That was in 2009. The next five years, Henderson said, became a protracted battle against her insurer, UnitedHealthcare, over paying for the specialists who finally diagnosed and treated her daughter's rare condition, inflammatory pseudotumor. She appealed uncovered hospital stays, surgeries, and medication to the insurer and state regulators, to no avail. The family racked up more than $1 million in medical debt, she said, because the insurer told her treatments recommended by doctors were unnecessary. The family declared bankruptcy.
"If I had not fought tooth and nail every step of the way, my daughter would be dead," said Henderson, of Auburn, California, whose daughter eventually recovered and is now a thriving 20-year-old junior at Oregon State University. "You pay a lot of money to have health insurance, and you hope that your health insurance has your well-being at the forefront, but that's not happening at all."
While insurance denials are on the rise, surveys show few Americans appeal them. Unlike in Henderson's case, various analyses have found that many who escalate complaints to government regulators successfully get denials overturned. Consumer advocates and policymakers say that's a clear sign insurance companies routinely deny care they shouldn't. Now a proposal in the California Legislature seeks to penalize insurers who repeatedly make the wrong call.
While the measure, SB 363, would cover only about a third of insured Californians whose health plans are regulated by the state, experts say it could be one of the boldest attempts in the nation to rein in health insurer denials — before and after care is given. And California could become one of only a handful of states that require insurers to disclose denial rates and reasoning, statistics the industry often considers proprietary information.
The measure also seeks to force insurers to be more judicious with denials and would fine them up to $1 million per case if more than half of appeals filed with regulators are overturned in a year.
In 2023, state data show, about 72% of appeals made to the Department of Managed Health Care, which regulates the vast majority of health plans, resulted in an insurer's initial denial being reversed.
"When you have health insurance, you should have confidence that it's going to cover your health care needs," said Sen. Scott Wiener, the San Francisco Democrat who introduced the bill. "They can just delay, deny, obstruct, and, in many cases, avoid having to cover medically necessary care, and it's unacceptable."
A spokesperson for the California Association of Health Plans declined to comment, saying the group was still reviewing the bill language. Gov. Gavin Newsom's spokesperson Elana Ross said his office generally does not comment on pending legislation.
Concerned about spiraling consumer health costs, state lawmakers across the nation have increasingly looked for ways to verify that insurers are paying claims fairly.
In 2024, 17 states enacted legislation dealing with prior authorization of care by private insurers, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures. Connecticut, which has one of the most robust denial rate disclosure laws, publishes an annual report card detailing the number and percentage of claims each insurer has denied, as well as the share that ends up getting reversed. Oregon published similar information until recently, when state disclosure requirements lapsed.
In California, there's no way to know how often insurers deny care, which health experts say is especially troubling as mental health care is reaching crisis levels among children and young adults. According to Keith Humphreys, a health policy professor at Stanford University, it's easier to deny mental health care because a diagnosis of, say, depression can be more subjective than that of a broken limb or cancer.
"We think it's unacceptable that the state has absolutely no idea how big of a problem this is," said Lishaun Francis, senior director of behavioral health for the advocacy group Children Now, a sponsor of the bill.
Under Wiener's proposal, private insurers regulated by the Department of Managed Health Care and the Department of Insurance would be required to submit detailed data about denials and appeals. They would also need to explain those denials and report the outcomes of the appeals.
For appeals that make it to the state's independent medical review process, known as IMR, insurers whose denials are overturned more than half the time would face staggering penalties. The first case that brings a company above the 50% threshold would trigger a fine of $50,000, with a penalty ranging from $100,000 to $400,000 for a second. Each one after that would cost $1 million.
If passed, the measure would cover roughly 12.8 million Californians on private insurance. It would not apply to patients on Medi-Cal, the state's Medicaid program, or Medicare, and it would exclude self-insured plans offered by large employers, which are regulated by the U.S. Department of Labor and cover roughly 5.6 million Californians.
The phrase "deny and delay" continues to reverberate across the health care industry after the killing of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson. A survey by NORC at the University of Chicago released shortly after the brazen attack revealed that 7 in 10 people said they believed denials for health coverage and profits by health insurance companies bore a great deal or a moderate amount of responsibility for Thompson's death.
Wiener called Thompson's killing a "cold-blooded assassination" but said his bill grew out of a narrower proposal that failed last year aimed at improving mental health coverage for children and adults under age 26. But he acknowledged the nation's reaction to the killing underscores the long-simmering anger many Americans feel about health insurers' practices and the urgent need for reform.
Humphreys, the Stanford professor, said the U.S. health system creates strong financial incentives for insurers to deny care. And, he added, state and federal penalties are paltry enough to be written off as a cost of doing business.
"The more care they deny, the more money they make," he said.
Increasingly, large employers are starting to include language in contracts with claim administrators that would penalize them for approving too many or too few claims, said Shawn Gremminger, president of the National Alliance of Healthcare Purchaser Coalitions.
Gremminger represents mostly large employers who fund their own insurance, are federally regulated, and would be excluded from Wiener's bill. But even for such so-called self-funded plans, it can be nearly impossible to determine denial rates for the insurance companies hired simply to administer claims, he said.
While it could be too late for many families, Sandra Maturino, of Rialto, said she hopes lawmakers tackle insurance denials so other Californians can avoid the saga she endured to get her niece treatment.
She adopted the girl, now 13, after her sister died. Her niece had long struggled with self-harm and violent behavior, but when therapists recommended inpatient psychiatric care, her insurer, Anthem Blue Cross, would cover it for only 30 days.
For more than a year, Maturino said, her niece cycled in and out of facilities and counseling because her insurance wouldn't cover a long-term stay. Doctors tested a laundry list of prescription drugs and doses. None of it worked.
Anthem declined a request for comment.
Eventually, Maturino got her niece into a residential program in Utah, paid for by the adoption agency, where she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and has been undergoing treatment for a year.
Maturino said she didn't have the energy to appeal to Anthem. "I wasn't going to wait around for the insurance to kill her, or for her to hurt somebody," Maturino said.
McMINNVILLE, Tenn. — Each month, Michelle Shaw went to a pain clinic to get the shots that made her back feel worse — so she could get the pills that made her back feel better.
Shaw, 56, who has been dependent on opioid painkillers since she injured her back in a fall a decade ago, said in both an interview with KFF Health News and in sworn courtroom testimony that the Tennessee clinic would write the prescriptions only if she first agreed to receive three or four "very painful" injections of another medicine along her spine.
The clinic claimed the injections were steroids that would relieve her pain, Shaw said, but with each shot her agony would grow. Shaw said she eventually tried to decline the shots, then the clinic issued an ultimatum: Take the injections or get her painkillers somewhere else.
"I had nowhere else to go at the time," Shaw testified, according to a federal court transcript. "I was stuck."
Shaw was among thousands of patients of Pain MD, a multistate pain management company that was once among the nation's most prolific users of what it referred to as "tendon origin injections," which normally inject a single dose of steroids to relieve stiff or painful joints. As many doctors were scaling back their use of prescription painkillers due to the opioid crisis, Pain MD paired opioids with monthly injections into patients' backs, claiming the shots could ease pain and potentially lessen reliance on painkillers, according to federal court documents.
Now, years later, Pain MD's injections have been proved in court to be part of a decade-long fraud scheme that made millions by capitalizing on patients' dependence on opioids. The Department of Justice has successfully argued at trial that Pain MD's "unnecessary and expensive injections" were largely ineffective because they targeted the wrong body part, contained short-lived numbing medications but no steroids, and appeared to be based on test shots given to cadavers — people who felt neither pain nor relief because they were dead.
Four Pain MD employees have pleaded guilty or been convicted of health care fraud, including company president Michael Kestner, who was found guilty of 13 felonies at an October trial in Nashville, Tennessee. According to a transcript from Kestner's trial that became public in December, witnesses testified that the company documented giving patients about 700,000 total injections over about eight years and said some patients got as many as 24 shots at once.
"The defendant, Michael Kestner, found out about an injection that could be billed a lot and paid well," said federal prosecutor James V. Hayes as the trial began, according to the transcript. "And they turned some patients into human pin cushions."
The Department of Justice declined to comment for this article. Kestner's attorneys either declined to comment or did not respond to requests for an interview. At trial, Kestner's attorneys argued that he was a well-intentioned businessman who wanted to run pain clinics that offered more than just pills. He is scheduled to be sentenced on April 21 in a federal court in Nashville.
According to the transcript of Kestner's trial, Shaw and three other former patients testified that Pain MD's injections did not ease their pain and sometimes made it worse. The patients said they tolerated the shots only so Pain MD wouldn't cut off their prescriptions, without which they might have spiraled into withdrawal.
"They told me that if I didn't take the shots — because I said they didn't help — I would not get my medication," testified Patricia McNeil, a former patient in Tennessee, according to the trial transcript. "I took the shots to get my medication."
In her interview with KFF Health News, Shaw said that often she would arrive at the Pain MD clinic walking with a cane but would leave in a wheelchair because the injections left her in too much pain to walk.
"That was the pain clinic that was supposed to be helping me," Shaw said in her interview. "I would come home crying. It just felt like they were using me."
'Not Actually Injections Into Tendons at All'
Pain MD, which sometimes operated under the name Mid-South Pain Management, ran as many as 20 clinics in Tennessee, Virginia, and North Carolina throughout much of the 2010s. Some clinics averaged more than 12 injections per patient each month, and at least two patients each received more than 500 shots in total, according to federal court documents.
All those injections added up. According to Medicare data filed in federal court, Pain MD and Mid-South Pain Management billed Medicare for more than 290,000 "tendon origin injections" from January 2010 to May 2018, which is about seven times that of any other Medicare biller in the U.S. over the same period.
Tens of thousands of additional injections were billed to Medicaid and Tricare during those same years, according to federal court documents. Pain MD billed these government programs for about $111 per injection and collected more than $5 million from the government for the shots, according to the court documents.
More injections were billed to private insurance too. Christy Wallace, an audit manager for BlueCross BlueShield of Tennessee, testified that Pain MD billed the insurance company about $40 million for more than 380,000 injections from January 2010 to March 2013. BlueCross paid out about $7 million before it cut off Pain MD, Wallace said.
These kinds of enormous billing allegations are not uncommon in health care fraud cases, in which fraudsters sometimes find a legitimate treatment that insurance will pay for and then overuse it to the point of absurdity, said Don Cochran, a former U.S. attorney for the Middle District of Tennessee.
Tennessee alone has seen fraud allegations for unnecessary billing of urine testing, skin creams, and other injections in just the past decade. Federal authorities have also investigated an alleged fraud scheme involving a Tennessee company and hundreds of thousands of catheters billed to Medicare, according to The Washington Post, citing anonymous sources.
Cochran said the Pain MD case felt especially "nefarious" because it used opioids to make patients play along.
"A scheme where you get Medicare or Medicaid money to provide a medically unnecessary treatment is always going to be out there," Cochran said. "The opioid piece just gives you a universe of compliant people who are not going to question what you are doing."
"It was only opioids that made those folks come back," he said.
The allegations against Pain MD became public in 2018 when Cochran and the Department of Justice filed a civil lawsuit against the company, Kestner, and several associated clinics, alleging that Pain MD defrauded taxpayers and government insurance programs by billing for "tendon origin injections" that were "not actually injections into tendons at all."
Kestner, Pain MD, and several associated clinics have each denied all allegations in that lawsuit, which is ongoing.
Scott Kreiner, an expert on spine care and pain medicine who testified at Kestner's criminal trial, said that true tendon origin injections (or TOIs) typically are used to treat inflamed joints, like the condition known as "tennis elbow," by injecting steroids or platelet-rich plasma into a tendon. Kreiner said most patients need only one shot at a time, according to the transcript.
But Pain MD made repeated injections into patients' backs that contained only lidocaine or Marcaine, which are anesthetic medications that cause numbness for mere hours, Kreiner testified. Pain MD also used needles that were often too short to reach back tendons, Kreiner said, and there was no imaging technology used to aim the needle anyway. Kreiner said he didn't find any injections in Pain MD's records that appeared medically necessary, and even if they had been, no one could need so many.
"I simply cannot fathom a scenario where the sheer quantity of TOIs that I observed in the patient records would ever be medically necessary," Kreiner said, according to the trial transcript. "This is not even a close call."
Jonathan White, a physician assistant who administered injections at Pain MD and trained other employees to do so, then later testified against Kestner as part of a plea deal, said at trial that he believed Pain MD's injection technique was based on a "cadaveric investigation."
According to the trial transcript, White said that while working at Pain MD he realized he could find no medical research that supported performing tendon origin injections on patients' backs instead of their joints. When he asked if Pain MD had any such research, White said, an employee responded with a two-paragraph letter from a Tennessee anatomy professor — not a medical doctor — that said it was possible to reach the region of back tendons in a cadaver by injecting "within two fingerbreadths" of the spine. This process was "exactly the procedure" that was taught at Pain MD, White said.
During his own testimony, Kreiner said it was "potentially dangerous" to inject a patient as described in the letter, which should not have been used to justify medical care.
"This was done on a dead person," Kreiner said, according to the trial transcript. "So the letter says nothing about how effective the treatment is."
At the time, Pain MD defended the injections and its practice of discharging patients who declined the shots. When a former patient publicly accused the company of treating his back "like a dartboard," Pain MD filed a defamation lawsuit, then dropped the suit about a month later.
"These are interventional clinics, so that's what they offer," Jay Bowen, a then-attorney for Pain MD, told The Tennessean newspaper in 2019. "If you don't want to consider acupuncture, don't go to an acupuncture clinic. If you don't want to buy shoes, don't go to a shoe store."
Kestner's trial told another story. According to the trial transcript, eight former Pain MD medical providers testified that the driving force behind Pain MD's injections was Kestner himself, who is not a medical professional and yet regularly pressured employees to give more shots.
One nurse practitioner testified that she received emails "every single workday" pushing for more injections. Others said Kestner openly ranked employees by their injection rates, and implied that those who ranked low might be fired.
"He told me that if I had to feed my family based on my productivity, that they would starve," testified Amanda Fryer, a nurse practitioner who was not charged with any crime.
Brian Richey, a former Pain MD nurse practitioner who at times led the company's injection rankings, and has since taken a plea deal that required him to testify in court, said at the trial that he "performed so many injections" that his hand became chronically inflamed and required surgery.
"‘Over injecting killed my hand,'" Richey said on the witness stand, reading a text message he sent to another Pain MD employee in 2017, according to the trial transcript. "‘I was in so much pain Injecting people that didnt want it but took it to stay a patient.'"
"Why would they want to stay there?" a prosecutor asked.
"To keep getting their narcotics," Richey responded, according to the trial transcript.
Throughout the trial, defense attorney Peter Strianse argued that Pain MD's focus on injections was a result of Kestner's "obsession" with ensuring that the company "would never be called a pill mill."
Strianse said that Kestner "stayed up at night worrying" about patients coming to clinics only to get opioid prescriptions, so he pushed his employees to administer injections, too.
"Employers motivating employees is not a crime," Strianse said at closing arguments, according to the court transcript. "We get pushed every day to perform. It's not fraud; it's a fact of life."
Prosecutors insisted that this defense rang hollow. During the trial, former employees had testified that most patients' opioid dosages remained steady or increased while at Pain MD, and that the clinics did not taper off the painkillers no matter how many injections were given.
"Giving them injections does not fix the pill mill problem," federal prosecutor Katherine Payerle said during closing arguments, according to the trial transcript. "The way to fix being a pill mill is to stop giving the drugs or taper the drugs."
President Donald Trump's return to the White House sent a clear signal about Medicaid to Republicans across the country: Requiring enrollees to prove they are working, volunteering, or going to school is back on the table.
The day after Trump's inauguration, South Carolina GOP Gov. Henry McMaster asked federal officials to approve a work requirement plan. Ohio Republican Gov. Mike DeWine plans to soon follow suit. Republicans in Congress are eyeing Medicaid work requirements as they seek to slash billions from the federal budget.
But, just as a second Trump administration reignites interest in work requirements, Georgia is proposing to scale back key parts of the nation's only active program. And Arkansas announced an effort to revive — with fundamental changes — a program that ended after a legal judgment in 2019.
The Georgia and Arkansas proposals, from the only two states to have implemented Medicaid work requirements, reveal the disconnect between rhetoric behind such programs and the realities of running them, said consumer advocates and health policy researchers.
"They recognize that what they did the first time didn't work," said Ben Sommers, a Harvard professor and a former health official in the Biden and Obama administrations. "It should be a signal to federal policymakers: Don't point to Georgia and Arkansas and say, 'Let's do that.'"
After an expensive and bumpy rollout, Georgia in January posted a draft renewal plan for its Georgia Pathways to Coverage program. The plan removes the requirement to document work every month and to pay premiums. Those key elements — which supporters have argued promote employment and personal responsibility — were never implemented, the state said.
Enrollees would still have to meet the work requirement when they first apply and when they renew each year. The draft plan also expands the group of people who can opt out of work reporting to include parents of children under age 6. A public comment period on the plan is open through Feb. 20.
Arkansas' latest request to federal officials doesn't require enrollees to report their work hours. Instead, it proposes checking whether people are working, caregiving, or fulfilling other qualifying activities by using data, which could include income, job history, educational status, whether a child lives at home, and other criteria, said Gavin Lesnick, a spokesperson for the state's Medicaid agency.
People deemed "not on track towards meeting their personal health and economic goals" won't be disenrolled but can participate in a "success coaching" program to maintain coverage, according to the state's proposal. A public comment period on Arkansas' program runs through March 3.
'Fundamentally Flawed'
More than 90% of U.S. adults eligible for Medicaid expansion are already working or could be exempt from requirements, according to KFF. Still, several states are quickly moving to restart Medicaid work requirements.
Besides the three states of Arkansas, Ohio, and South Carolina, Iowa and South Dakota are considering similar proposals. Lawmakers in Montana are weighing them as they debate renewing the state's Medicaid expansion.
This week, House Republicans floated a budget proposal to cut $880 billion from the Energy and Commerce Committee, which oversees Medicaid, the state-federal health insurance program for people with low incomes or disabilities. Before the release of that plan, Speaker Mike Johnson said Republicans were discussing changes to Medicaid that include imposing work requirements.
Supporters of such requirements say Medicaid should be reserved for people who are working.
Right now, it "disincentivizes many low-income families from earning additional income" because they would lose health coverage if they make too much money, said South Carolina Gov. McMaster in his January letter to federal officials. He has argued that a work-reporting requirement is "fiscally responsible" and "will incentivize employment."
There is no evidence showing such programs improve economic outcomes for people; the requirements don't help people find jobs, but not having health insurance can keep them from working, health policy researchers say.
The goal of Ohio's plan is to focus "resources and efforts on those who are engaged with their health choices and independence," said the state. The plan doesn't require most individuals to regularly "report activities, fill out forms, or take any action" beyond what is generally required for Medicaid enrollment. Ohio estimates that more than 61,000 people, or 8% of enrollees subject to its measure, would lose Medicaid eligibility in the first year.
Consumer advocates, health policy analysts, and researchers said the scaling back seen in recent work requirement proposals speaks to the challenges of mandating them for public benefits — and could serve as a cautionary tale for Republicans in Washington, D.C., and across the country. The programs can eliminate people from the Medicaid rolls or suppress enrollment, while adding costly layers of bureaucracy, they said.
"As a matter of health policy, work-reporting requirements in Medicaid are fundamentally flawed," said Leo Cuello, a researcher at the Georgetown Center for Children and Families.
Lessons Learned?
Arkansas got its initial program off the ground in 2018 before a federal judge said it was illegal. Unlike Georgia, the state had already expanded Medicaid. That work-reporting requirement led to more than 18,000 people losing coverage, in part because enrollees were unaware or confused about how to report they were working.
In his ruling that ended the program, Judge James Boasberg said its approval was "arbitrary and capricious" because it failed to address a core goal of Medicaid: "the provision of medical coverage to the needy."
Arkansas' latest proposal tries to address a potential legal challenge by suspending, rather than terminating, health coverage through the end of the calendar year for people who don't meet requirements.
"We have worked to design this amendment taking into account lessons learned from previous work requirements," said Arkansas Medicaid Director Janet Mann at a press conference in late January announcing the new proposal.
But the requirements are "subjective," and the difference between suspension and termination isn't meaningful, said Camille Richoux, health policy director of Arkansas Advocates for Children and Families.
"The impact is the same: You can't go to the doctor," she said. "You can't get your prescriptions filled."
In Georgia, the Pathways program, launched in 2023, has offered coverage to a small portion of those who would qualify for Medicaid if the state had fully expanded it to all low-income adults, as 40 others have done. With the proposed changes, the state estimates enrollment in Pathways would grow to as many as 30,000 people in the final year of the pilot. The state currently estimates at least 246,000 would become eligible for Medicaid under a full expansion.
About 6,500 people were enrolled in Pathways as of late January, said Grant Thomas, the state's deputy Medicaid commissioner, in a legislative hearing. According to state officials, the program has cost more than $57 million in state and federal funds through December, with most of that money going toward program administration, not benefits.
"Pathways is doing what it is designed to do: increase access to affordable health care coverage while lowering the uninsured rate across Georgia," said Russel Carlson, the state's Medicaid director. The changes to Pathways are an attempt to "improve the member experience" while finding ways "to make government more efficient and accessible," he added.
Pathways requires that enrollees regularly submit documentation to prove they are working, but the program doesn't include meaningful measures to help people find work, critics said. People who could be eligible for Pathways have said the whole process is time-consuming due to lengthy questionnaires, a glitchy system for uploading documents, and confusing technical language on the website, according to those working with potential enrollees.
"There's stuff that sounds good on paper, but when you go to implement it in real life, it's costly and burdensome," said Leah Chan, director of health justice at the Georgia Budget and Policy Institute.
So far, Pathways has cost state and federal taxpayers nearly $9,000 per enrollee, largely back-end costs to run the program. States that have expanded Medicaid spent about $6,500 per enrollee in that group in 2021, according to KFF researchers.
Georgia GOP Gov. Brian Kemp has said he's committed to his signature health program, but some Republican state lawmakers have shown an openness to consider full expansion.
A group of Democratic senators cited KFF Health News' reporting last year when they asked the federal government's top watchdog to investigate Pathways spending.
Even with the proposed changes, some people, including those who work in the informal or gig economy, may not have official records and may be locked out of health coverage, said Laura Colbert, executive director of Georgians for a Healthy Future, a nonprofit consumer health advocacy organization. People caring for older children or aging relatives, older adults who struggle to find work, and those with medical conditions that prevent them from working still wouldn't qualify for health coverage, she said.
"The Pathways program just doesn't reflect the reality of how people are working," Colbert said. "Pathways is a program that has clearly been developed by people who have had salaried jobs with predictable incomes."
California Gov. Gavin Newsom and state legislators in Sacramento seem to agree: Prescription drug prices are too high. But lawmakers and the second-term governor are at odds over what to do about it, and a recent proposal could trigger one of the biggest healthcare battles in Sacramento this year.
A California bill awaiting its first hearing would subject drug industry intermediaries known as pharmacy benefit managers, or PBMs, to licensing by the state Department of Insurance. And it would require them to pass along 100% of the rebates they get from drug companies to the health plans and insurers that hire them to oversee prescription drug benefits.
But the proposal, which would impose some of the toughest PBM regulations in the nation, faces at least one major hurdle: Newsom. He vetoed a similar measure last year, unconvinced it would lower consumer costs. He signaled his intent to offer an alternative but has yet to reveal it.
Any fight over PBM reform promises to be a pricey one. Interest groups on both sides spent at least $7 million combined lobbying California lawmakers and the Newsom administration on healthcare last year, according to records filed with the secretary of state.
"This bill directly threatens the profitability of PBMs going forward," said Ge Bai, a health policy professor at Johns Hopkins University who has tracked similar bills in other states. "These bills are really the result of an interindustry dog fight, and these are ridiculously fierce fights because PBMs control revenue for pharmacies, as well as for manufacturers."
The country's top three PBMs —CVS Caremark, affiliated with Aetna; UnitedHealth Group's Optum Rx; and Express Scripts, owned by Cigna — control roughly 80% of prescriptions in the United States, according to the Federal Trade Commission. In theory, they leverage their buying power to extract steep discounts from drug manufacturers and pass savings along to insurance companies and employers who provide health coverage.
But as prescription drug prices continue to spiral and federal efforts to control them stall, state lawmakers are focusing on PBMs, which help insurers decide which drugs their plans cover and how much patients will pay out-of-pocket to get them. However, they have been stymied by the drug industry's secretive ecosystem of rebates, reimbursements, and obscure fees, thwarting efforts to lower drug costs.
In addition to California, PBM proposals have been introduced this legislative session in Arkansas, Iowa, and at least 20 other states as of Feb. 10, according to the National Academy for State Health Policy. All 50 states and Washington, D.C., have some sort of PBM regulation on the books.
And although President Donald Trump has criticized PBMs and vowed to "knock out the middleman," his recent actions undoing moves to lower prescription drug prices have left some healthcare experts skeptical that meaningful reform will come from Washington, D.C.
Meanwhile, state data shows California health plan drug costs have grown by more than 50% since 2017. California insurers spent 11% more on pharmaceuticals in 2023 than in 2022, with specialty and brand-name drugs driving the increase.
Both Newsom and bill author Sen. Scott Wiener (D-San Francisco) have said PBMs play a role in high drug prices. While Wiener wants to ban some of their practices outright, Newsom has so far taken a more measured approach, calling for more disclosure and pointing to his plan for the state to manufacture its own generic drugs, which has yet to get off the ground.
In vetoing Wiener's 2024 bill, which passed in a near-unanimous bipartisan vote, Newsom said he was unconvinced that licensing PBMs would improve affordability for patients and instead directed his administration to "propose a legislative approach" to gather more data from PBMs. In a statement, Newsom spokesperson Elana Ross noted that "Big Pharma backed the vetoed bill" and said the Democratic governor, in partnership with the legislature, will take action to address PBMs this year. She declined to elaborate.
In his January budget proposal, Newsom said his administration was "exploring approaches to increase transparency" in the entire drug supply chain, not just PBMs.
Industry representatives say they're being unfairly targeted with transparency laws and regulations and blame pharmaceutical companies for setting high drug prices.
"The PBM is taking the risk on price variation, and it allows the client to have certainty on what they're going to be paying," said Bill Head, an assistant vice president of state affairs for the Pharmaceutical Care Management Association, which represents PBMs. "We're hired because it works. It saves money at the end of the day."
He said PBMs pass on more than 95% of the rebates they receive from drugmakers — a number health policy researchers say is hard to verify.
Consumer advocates say drugmakers simply raise their prices to maintain profits and PBMs charge insurers far more for many medicines than pharmacies are paid to actually dispense them, a practice known as spread pricing.
A January report by the Federal Trade Commission found the three biggest PBMs appeared to steer the most profitable prescriptions away from competitors and to their affiliated pharmacies, which they reimbursed at markups exceeding 1,000% for some drugs, including some used to treat cancer, multiple sclerosis, and serious lung conditions. Over a six-year period, the analysis found, those PBMs and their affiliated pharmacies made roughly $8.7 billion in additional revenue by marking up prices on a sample of 51 specialty drugs.
Wiener's latest bill, SB 41, would ban such markups, as well as spread pricing, and bar PBMs from receiving performance bonuses based on drug rebates. Similar provisions were stripped out of last year's bill in the final days before its passage.
"These are practices that only PBMs are engaging in and they're causing harm, reducing consumer choice, increasing drug costs, and it's time to address them," Wiener said. "I'm not going to let that idea just evaporate because of one veto."
Clint Hopkins, who has co-owned Pucci's Pharmacy in Sacramento since 2016, said he often deals with complaints from frustrated patients who don't understand drug pricing schemes and restrictions set by pharmacy benefit managers.
He's had to turn away customers whose drugs can cost him hundreds of dollars in losses each time they're filled and says spread pricing is helping drive independent pharmacies out of business.
"I'm not asking to be paid more. I am asking to be paid fairly — at cost or above."
Under current law, California requires PBMs to disclose some information about drug rebates, and other information, to its clients. That data is often labeled as proprietary to the companies, leaving an incomplete picture of the supply chain, said Maureen Hensley-Quinn, a senior program director at the National Academy for State Health Policy.
PBM representatives say pharmacies, insurers, and other actors in the supply chain should have to disclose information about their profits and practices, too.
"You want to look under the hood?" Head said. "We're open to that, but let's look under everybody's hood."
Bai said lawmakers are likely going after PBMs because insurers are one portion of the supply chain that they have the power to regulate. But she warned such legislation could cost consumers more if drugmakers and pharmacies remain unchecked. A better approach, Bai suggested, would be to bar PBMs entirely from managing benefits for generic drugs, one of their biggest revenue sources.
"In healthcare, there's no saint and there's no villain. Everybody's trying to make money," Bai said. "These fights will bring no benefit to patients unless we go to the root."
HELENA, Mont. — When Lou and Lindsay Volpe's son was diagnosed with a chronic bowel disease at age 11, their health insurer required constant preapproval of drugs and treatments — a process the Volpes say often delayed critical care for their son.
"You subscribe to your insurance policy, you pay into that for years and years and years with the hope that, if you need this service, it will be there for you," Lou Volpe said. "And finally, when you knock on the door and say, ‘Hey guys, we need some help,' they just start backpedaling."
The Volpes, who live in Helena, and their health care providers spent more than 18 months pushing for these approvals from Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Montana — including a four-month wait last year for approval of costly infusions that worked to control their son's disease where other treatments had failed.
"It just really slowed everything down on his treatment, and I feel like he could have been recovering from this situation a lot sooner," Lindsay Volpe said.
Now, the Volpes, other patients, and their health care providers are bringing the issue to the 2025 Montana Legislature, saying it's time Montana joined many other states in limiting how and when insurers can deny drugs or treatments through their preapproval process, known as "prior authorization."
This month, a Democratic and a Republican lawmaker introduced or were drafting separate bills restricting health insurers' ability to require prior authorization for certain treatments and medications. A third lawmaker was preparing other measures as well.
Many of the state's medical providers are behind the effort, saying prior authorization is denying vital care and needlessly sucking up more and more of their time, which they say could be better spent with patients.
"It has increased incredibly in the last couple of decades, to the point that it's one of the leading causes of burnout for physicians," said Lauren Wilson, a Missoula pediatrician and past president of the Montana chapter of the American Academy of Pediatrics. "It's just delaying patient care for no good reason."
Montana health insurers, however, insist they are authorizing drugs and treatments that are shown to be needed. If their review power is stripped away, costs will continue to increase due to insurance paying for unnecessary treatments, they said.
Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Montana said it doesn't comment on individual cases, such as the Volpes', but said it approves the "vast majority" of prior authorization requests. Blue Cross, which insures or manages health insurance for 384,000 people in Montana, also said it regularly audits its prior authorization procedures and is taking steps to speed up the process.
"Prior authorizations are a way to ensure members receive the right care at the right place at the right time, avoiding unnecessary services and helping providers understand coverage before a service is delivered," the company said in a statement.
Denial of care through insurers' prior authorization processes has struck a nerve nationwide as well.
In the wake of the December shooting death of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson in New York City, customers of the health insurance giant and other consumers took to social media to denounce the industry for denied claims and puny reimbursements.
And since then, one of the nation's largest health insurers, The Cigna Group, announced it would spend $150 million this year to reform its prior authorization process and related services for patients and health care providers.
In the past two years, multiple states have passed laws restricting prior authorization, according to the American Medical Association, with New Jersey enacting restrictions over New Year's. The laws, spearheaded by health care providers, generally narrow when and how prior authorization can occur and create stricter timelines for the review.
Legislators in several states, including Indiana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Virginia, and Washington, have introduced prior authorization bills this year.
In Montana, local health insurers aren't quietly giving in to increased regulation.
They note that state regulation of prior authorization affects only about a fourth of Montanans with health insurance, because large, self-insured plans managed by national health insurers are under federal rules.
State restrictions on prior authorization will increase costs primarily for three in-state insurers, they say — and, eventually, their customers.
"We feel like our job is to say, ‘Is that the best use of money for our membership?'" Jackie Boyle, senior vice president of external affairs for Mountain Health Co-Op, said of prior authorization. "If we approve something, we are doing it for every patient like them."
Mountain Health, based in Helena, insures 55,000 people in Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming.
Democratic state Rep. Jonathan Karlen of Missoula is sponsoring two bills: one to remove prior authorization for most generic drugs, inhalers, and insulin, and another that says patients can't be denied a drug when they switch insurers and are waiting for authorization from the new insurer. The second bill also says a procedure or treatment may be denied only by a physician with a matching specialty.
Karlen said insurers are putting up barriers to care to increase their profits and said it's time to break those barriers down.
"People should be making medical decisions based on what they and their doctors think, not what their insurance company thinks," he said. "If a doctor says you need a medication, that's why you have insurance — so you can get that."
Republican state Rep. Ed Buttrey of Great Falls said he plans to introduce a bill to help kids with chronic bowel diseases, such as the Volpes' son, imposing a seven-day limit to decide whether to authorize expensive biologic treatments. If insurers don't meet the deadline, the drug would be automatically approved.
Buttrey's bill also would eliminate most retroactive denials — when insurers refuse to pay for treatment they'd authorized.
State Sen. Vince Ricci (R-Billings) said he is preparing other bills that may include even stronger language to restrict prior authorization for drugs for various conditions.
Health care providers and patients have heard the rationale of insurers and promises that improvements will be made, but they say nothing has happened and that it's time for the state to step in.
"When there are no consequences and no teeth to anything, I can complain all I want, but it doesn't seem to incite change," said Kim Longcake, the pediatric nurse practitioner who's treating the Volpes' son.
Longcake said she and another specialist in her office tracked the time they spent on prior authorization requests in a two-week period.
"Depending on where you want to see me, I'm booking out four to six months," Longcake said. "If I wasn't spending 12 hours a week doing prior authorization stuff, it would improve access to care."
The Volpes said their son, now 13, couldn't absorb food and didn't gain any weight for a year and a half while he went through treatments that didn't work and repeated preauthorization waits, including for his current treatment, which appears to be working.
"What he's gone through at that age was really excessive, beyond what was needed for treatment, because we couldn't get the care that he needed," his mother said. "If we didn't get switched to this medication, he'd still be doing that."