Independent Health will make "guaranteed payments" of $34.5 million in installments from 2024 through 2028.
A western New York health insurance provider for seniors and the CEO of its medical analytics arm have agreed to pay a total of up to $100 million to settle Justice Department allegations of fraudulent billing for health conditions that were exaggerated or didn't exist.
Independent Health Association of Buffalo, which operates two Medicare Advantage plans, will pay up to $98 million. Betsy Gaffney, CEO of medical records review company DxID, will pay $2 million, according to the settlement agreement. Neither admitted wrongdoing.
"Today's result sends a clear message to the Medicare Advantage community that the United States will take appropriate action against those who knowingly submit inflated claims for reimbursement," Michael Granston, a DOJ deputy assistant attorney general, said in announcing the settlement on Dec. 20.
Frank Sava, a spokesperson for Independent Health, said in a statement: "The assertions by the DOJ are allegations only, and there has been no determination of liability. This settlement is not an admission of any wrongdoing; it instead allows us to avoid the further disruption, expense, and uncertainty of litigation in a matter that has lingered for over a decade."
Under the settlement, Independent Health will make "guaranteed payments" of $34.5 million in installments from 2024 through 2028. Whether it pays the maximum amount in the settlement will depend on the health plan's financial performance.
Michael Ronickher, an attorney for whistleblower Teresa Ross, called the settlement "historic," saying it was the largest payment yet by a health plan based solely on a whistleblower's fraud allegations. It also was one of the first to accuse a data mining firm of helping a health plan overcharge.
The settlement is the latest in a whirl of whistleblower actions alleging billing fraud by a Medicare Advantage insurer. Medicare Advantage plans are private health plans that cover more than 33 million members, making up over half of all people eligible for Medicare. They are expected to grow further under the incoming Trump administration.
But as Medicare Advantage has gained popularity, regulators at the federal Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services have struggled to prevent health plans from exaggerating how sick patients are to boost their revenues.
Whistleblowers such as Ross, a former medical coding professional, have helped the government claw back hundreds of millions of dollars in overpayments tied to alleged coding abuses. Ross will receive at least $8.2 million, according to the Justice Department.
Ross said that CMS "created a bounty" for health plans that added medical diagnosis codes as they reviewed patients' charts — and whether those codes were accurate or not "didn't seem to bother some people."
"Billions of dollars are being paid out by CMS for diagnoses that don't exist," Ross told KFF Health News in an interview.
Data Mining
DOJ's civil complaint, filed in September 2021, was unusual in targeting a data analytics venture — and its top executive — for allegedly ginning up bogus payments.
DxID specialized in mining electronic medical records to capture new diagnoses for patients — pocketing up to 20% of the money it generated for the health plan, according to the suit, which said Independent Health used the firm from 2010 through 2017. DxID shut down in 2021.
Gaffney pitched its services to Medicare Advantage plans as "too attractive to pass up," according to the Justice Department complaint.
"There is no upfront fee, we don't get paid until you get paid and we work on a percentage of the actual proven recoveries," Gaffney said, according to the complaint. Timothy Hoover, an attorney for Gaffney, said in a statement that the settlement "is not an admission of any liability by Ms. Gaffney. The settlement simply resolves a dispute and provides closure to the parties."
'A Ton of Money'
CMS uses a complex formula that pays health plans higher rates for sicker patients and less for people in good health. Health plans must retain medical records that document all diagnoses they highlight for reimbursement.
Independent Health violated those rules by billing Medicare for a range of medical conditions that either were exaggerated or not supported by patient medical files, such as billing for treating chronic depression that had been resolved, according to the complaint. In one case, an 87-year-old man was coded as having "major depressive disorder" even though his medical records indicated the problem was "transient," according to the complaint.
DxID also cited chronic kidney disease or renal failure "in the absence of any documentation suggesting that a patient suffered from those conditions," according to the complaint. Past conditions, such as heart attacks, that required no current treatment, also were coded, according to the DOJ.
The suit alleges that Gaffney said renal failure diagnoses were "worth a ton of money to IH [Independent Health] and the majority of people (over) 70 have it at some level."
Ross filed the whistleblower case in 2012 against Group Health Cooperative in Seattle, one of the nation's oldest managed-care groups.
Ross, a former medical coding manager there, alleged that DxID submitted more than $30 million in disease claims — many of which were not valid — on behalf of Group Health for 2010 and 2011. For instance, Ross alleged that the plan billed for "major depression" in a patient described by his doctor as having an "amazingly sunny disposition."
Group Health, now known as the Kaiser Foundation Health Plan of Washington, denied wrongdoing. But it settled the civil case in November 2020 by agreeing to pay $6.3 million. The DOJ filed a second complaint in 2021, against Independent Health, which also used DxID's services.
Ross said she lost her job after her suit became public in 2019 and was unable to secure another one in the medical coding field.
"It was rough at times, but we got through it," she said. Ross, 60, said she is now "happily retired."
False Claims
Whistleblowers sue under the False Claims Act, a federal law dating to the Civil War that allows private citizens to expose fraud against the government and share in any recovery.
At least two dozen such suits, some dating to 2009, have targeted Medicare Advantage plans for overstating the severity of medical conditions, a practice known in the industry as "upcoding." Previous settlements from such suits have totaled more than $600 million.
The whistleblowers have played a key role in holding health insurers accountable.
While dozens of CMS audits have concluded that health plans overcharged the government, the agency has done little to recoup money for the U.S. Treasury.
In a surprise action in late January 2023, CMS announced that it would settle for a fraction of the estimated tens of millions of dollars in overpayments uncovered through its audits dating to 2011 and not impose major financial penalties on health plans until a round of audits for 2018 payments, which have yet to be done. Exactly how much plans will end up paying back is unclear.
"I think CMS should be doing more," said Max Voldman, an attorney who represents Ross.
It seems simple: Require hospitals and insurers to post their negotiated prices for most healthcare services and — bingo — competition follows, yielding lower costs for consumers.
But nearly four years after the first Trump administration's regulations forced hospitals to post massive amounts of pricing information online, the effect on patients' costs is unclear. And while President Joe Biden added requirements to make pricing information more user-friendly, Donald Trump's imminent return to the White House has raised questions about what's next, even though posting prices is an area of rare bipartisan agreement.
The uncertainty of what might happen next led some proponents to lobby Congress to include hospital and insurer price transparency in must-pass legislation before Trump takes office. That would turn both his and Biden's regulations into law, making them less susceptible to being weakened or repealed by a future administration. But that effort failed.
Employers are using transparency data to try to slow growth of their healthcare costs, and "the last thing you want to do is start over," said James Gelfand, president and CEO of the ERISA Industry Committee, which represents large employers who finance their own health plans. His group is among the organizations pressing Congress to act.
"Congress' failure to act is deeply disappointing, but employers and other advocates will redouble our efforts," Gelfand said. "This will get done."
While there are reports that many hospitals are not fully complying, federal regulators have sent thousands of warning letters to hospitals and fined just over a dozen.
The transparency rules require hospitals to list the prices they accept from all insurers for thousands of items and services, from stitches to delivery room costs to X-rays. For consumers, hospitals must also provide a list of 300 "shoppable" services, including bundled prices accepted for common services such as having a baby or getting a hip replacement. Insurers in July 2022 were similarly required to list their negotiated prices, not only for care at hospitals, but also surgery centers, imaging facilities, laboratories, and doctors' offices.
It's a massive and often confusing amount of data that has drawn interest from researchers and commercial outlets like Turquoise Health, which has sought to organize the information to better help ordinary consumers shopping for medical services or employers overseeing workers' health plans.
The data shows a huge variation in prices, both in what hospitals charge and what insurers pay, for the same services. But the result of making those prices public is so far hard to quantify.
A recent study by Turquoise looked at negotiated rates in the nation's 10 largest metro areas for a set of common healthcare services. It found that rates in the top quarter tier — the most expensive category — declined by 6.3% from December 2021 to June 2024, during the time the transparency rules were in place. But negotiated rates for the lowest-cost tier of services rose by 3.4%.
That may indicate hospitals and insurers — who can now see what rivals are charging and paying — have either cut prices or demanded better rates, at least for the costliest services.
Even so, Gerard Anderson, who oversees research into the data as a professor at the Bloomberg School of Public Health at Johns Hopkins University, said the changes Turquoise noted were small and are not reflective of what his team has seen in their own studies.
"So far we have not detected any impact of this data on behavior, of where insurers decide to go or what hospitals do to change prices once they realize what others are charging," Anderson said.
Some health policy experts think it's unlikely the incoming Trump administration would reverse its prior commitment to price transparency.
"I don't see a world where he tanks his own regulations," said Joe Wisniewski, an associate vice president at Turquoise Health. "There is also so much broad bipartisan support on the Hill."
But even after the Biden administration made the data more user-friendly, it's still not very helpful to consumers, Anderson said.
"This data is not telling them the price they will pay. It's telling them the average price people paid last month or last quarter for a similar type of service," he said.
More useful, Anderson and other experts say, are requirements in the price transparency rules that demand insurers offer online calculators for hundreds of nonemergency services. The detailed cost estimates must take into account how much patients have paid toward annual deductibles.
For uninsured consumers or others who don't have access to online calculators, it remains difficult to piece together how much a service might cost from the information hospitals post online. For one thing, not every hospital has posted its negotiated rates.
The Department of Health and Human Services' inspector general said in November an audit of 100 hospitals found that 63 complied with the price transparency rule, while the rest failed to meet one or more requirements.
The advocacy group Patient Rights Advocate, which looked at a sample of 2,000 hospitals, says that only 21% were fully compliant, although it used broader measures for compliance than the inspector general.
"By keeping their prices hidden, hospitals continue to block American consumers from their right to compare prices and protect themselves from overcharges," said Cynthia Fisher, founder and chairman of the group, which has called for stricter rules and enforcement.
Among the biggest-grossing films in America in February 2002 were a war drama about American troops in Somalia ("Black Hawk Down"), an Arnold Schwarzenegger action movie ("Collateral Damage"), and a future Oscar winner about a brilliant mathematician struggling with schizophrenia ("A Beautiful Mind").
But none of these films topped the box office that month. That title went to "John Q.," a movie about health insurance.
Or, more precisely, a story about a desperate father — played by Denzel Washington — who takes a hospital emergency room hostage at gunpoint when his HMO refuses to cover a heart transplant for his young son.
John Q.'s violent quest for justice was, of course, fictional. And even in the film, no one ends up dead.
Tragically, that wasn't the case on the streets of New York City on Dec. 4 when a gunman fatally shot Brian Thompson, CEO of health insurance giant UnitedHealthcare.
But there was nothing new about the anger at health insurers that Thompson's shooting unleashed online — and which suspect Luigi Mangione expressed in a document he allegedly wrote.
In fact, eruptions of public rage have shadowed the American health care system for decades.
In the late 1990s and early 2000s, as "John Q." was hitting movie screens, Americans were revolting against HMOs, whose practice of denying care to plan members to pad their bottom lines made them public enemy No. 1.
Just a few years later, health insurers stoked new ire for rescinding coverage after people were diagnosed with expensive illnesses like cancer. More recently, insurers' widening use of cumbersome prior authorization procedures that slow patients' access to care has provoked yet another round of fury.
The cycle of outrage periodically turns on others in the health care industry as well. Exorbitant bills and aggressive collection tactics, such as garnishing patients' wages, are sapping public trust in hospitals and other medical providers.
And drug companies — perennial poster children for greed and profiteering — have enraged Americans since at least the 1950s, when new "wonder drugs" like steroids were fueling a growing industry.
When Sen. Estes Kefauver, a Tennessee Democrat who had led an investigation of the Mafia, convened hearings in 1959 to probe high prescription prices, his committee received mountains of mail from Americans who reported being fleeced by drugmakers. One retired rail worker told of having to spend more than a third of his retirement income on medicines for himself and his wife.
All this public outcry has occasionally sparked change. President Barack Obama and congressional Democrats leveraged anger at spiking insurance premiums in California to get the Affordable Care Act over the finish line in 2010, a landmark achievement that expanded health coverage to millions of Americans.
But more often, cycles of rage have been so much sound and fury, producing only modest reforms. In some cases, public anger has yielded more headaches for patients.
The HMO backlash in the late 1990s and early 2000s, for example, prompted employers — from whom about half of Americans get their health coverage — to embrace high-deductible health plans. Many employers saw these plans as a way to hold down costs if they couldn't limit patients' choice of medical providers through HMOs. These deductibles, which can reach thousands of dollars a year, are driving tens of millions of Americans into debt.
To many on the left who have long argued for a single-payer, government-run health system, the obstacle to more meaningful relief has been the political power of the same industries — health insurers, drug companies, hospitals — that fuel patient anger.
These industries have indeed proven adept at resisting change that threatened their bottom lines. They've also benefited from a paradox in how Americans think about their health care.
Patients may get angry. They may even lose faith in the system. This year, public views of health care quality fell to the lowest point since Gallup began asking about it in 2001, with 44% of Americans rating quality as excellent or good, down from a high of 62%.
Yet more than 70% said their own health care is excellent or good.
There is much debate about what accounts for this paradox. Are Americans just grateful to have the health protections they do? Are they satisfied because most don't have to use the health care system on a regular basis? Do they simply like their doctor, in the way that voters routinely say they like their own member of Congress but hate Washington politicians? Or do they worry that no matter how frustrating the current system can be, any change risks making the situation worse?
The answer is probably a bit of all of this. Together, such sentiments represent a major challenge for those who hope the current wave of anger at health insurers will drive big improvements.
Could that change? Maybe. These are volatile and unpredictable political times. And the pressure of big medical bills is real. Medical debt, in particular, is exacting a fearsome toll on millions of Americans, KFF Health News' reporting has shown.
But to drive change, advocates looking to harness public anger at the health care industry probably need to rethink their favored solutions. Old ideas like "Medicare for All," long cherished on the left, or a deregulated health care market, long championed by the right, haven't swayed Americans so far, no matter how angry they've been.
I don't know when we'll see meaningful alternatives. One thing that's almost certainly on the way: Hollywood's spin on the death of a health insurance executive gunned down in Midtown Manhattan.
ERWIN, Tenn. — April Boyd texted her husband before she boarded the helicopter.
"So, I don't want to be dramatic," she wrote on Sept. 27, "but we are gonna fly and rescue patients from the rooftop of Unicoi hospital."
Earlier that day, Hurricane Helene roared into the Southern Appalachian Mountains after moving north through Florida and Georgia. The storm prompted a deadly flash flood that tore through Unicoi County in eastern Tennessee, trapping dozens of people on the rooftop of the county hospital.
The fast-moving floodwaters had made earlier rescue attempts by ambulance and boat impossible. Trees, trailers, buildings, caskets, and cars swept past the hospital in murky, brown rapids that overwhelmed the one-story structure with 12 feet of water on all sides.
No one knew how long the hospital's frame would hold or if the rising water would breach the top of the 20-foot-tall building. Little more than a mile downstream, six people at a plastics plant in Erwin's industrial park died in the flood.
"I do not feel good about this," Boyd, a flight nurse for Ballad Health, texted her husband at 1:41 p.m., just before takeoff.
She wrote that she loved him. "If anything goes wrong," she wanted him to tell her daughters "how much I love them," too.
Her fears were well-founded.
In 2018, Unicoi County Hospital relocated from higher ground in the heart of Erwin to the southern edge of town, between Interstate 26 and the Nolichucky River. The new hospital was built in a known flood plain, but the facility wasn't designed to accommodate helicopter landings on its roof. Boyd and her team weren't sure the roof could bear the weight of their 7,200-pound Eurocopter in good weather, let alone during a flash flood.
"I had a horrible feeling about it," she said.
By many accounts, the evacuation of 70 people, including 11 patients, by helicopter that day was a stunning success. The hospital was destroyed, but no one died. No one was even physically injured by the ordeal.
Yet, earth scientists, emergency management officials, and others who spoke to KFF Health News describe the narrow escape from Unicoi County Hospital as a cautionary tale. As climate change forces healthcare leaders and public officials to prepare for severe storms in landlocked parts of the country — where residents haven't historically paid much attention to hurricane warnings — they must be strategic about both the infrastructure design and the locations selected for new projects, like hospitals.
The Biden administration finalized a rule this year designed to make the construction of such projects that receive funding from the Federal Emergency Management Agency more resilient to flooding. But a review by KFF Health News identified about 20 other Tennessee hospitals already built in, or near, flood plains.
Patrick Sheehan, director of the Tennessee Emergency Management Agency, said past weather patterns can lull people into a false sense of security. But, he added, "past is not always prologue. We're going to experience novel, new ways of having disasters."
Historically, the Southern Appalachian Mountains have been the place "where hurricanes go to die," said Ryan Thigpen, an earth and environmental sciences professor at the University of Kentucky whose research focuses on flooding in the region. But as the Gulf of Mexico becomes warmer and storms, like Helene, that move northward into the mountains carry more moisture, weather events will become more severe.
"It's apocalyptic," said Thigpen, of the damage in Erwin. "The next storm may come before they are finished recovering from this. And that's kind of scary."
Hospitals in Flood Plains
All week, Michelle Matson had been worried about Unicoi County Hospital in the oncoming storm.
As a district coordinator for the Tennessee Emergency Management Agency, Matson works with local officials to plan for worst-case scenarios.
Leading up to Hurricane Helene, she'd been in regular communication with the county's emergency management director. The hospital's vulnerability next to the river kept coming up.
"That was the only place we were worried about," Matson said.
But concern over the hospital's location wasn't new.
In November 2013, Unicoi County Memorial Hospital, which opened in 1953, was acquired by Mountain States Health Alliance on the condition that Mountain States would construct a hospital in Erwin to replace the old one.
Two years later, Mountain States purchased a 45-acre tract of land next to a bend in the Nolichucky River, just off Interstate 26. A hospital system press release at the time explained that due diligence had been conducted to ensure, among other things, that the hospital building would not be in a flood plain. It also presented the location as desirable because it was near the interstate and the landscape would provide "a healing environment by taking advantage of the natural beauty of Unicoi County, with the river running along the east side of the property."
Dating back decades, though, flood maps published by FEMA put the entire property in a flood plain. The building itself was in a 500-year flood plain (meaning a 0.2% chance of flooding in any given year), while the only road on and off the property was in a 100-year flood plain (meaning a 1% annual risk).
But it wasn't only FEMA maps that forecast this possibility. In 2001, a report published by Unicoi County marked this land as being in a "flood hazard" area. The report warned of "considerable pressure" to develop flood hazard areas across the county "due to population increase and the need for vacant land."
The same report acknowledged a history of destructive flooding in the county and the risks it faced being situated along "three major streams," including the Nolichucky River, which flows northward out of the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina straight through Erwin.
"If you start looking at the river's history, there are a number of these notable flood events, and quite a few in the 20th century. They just did not reach this magnitude," said Philip Prince, a geologist with Appalachian Landslide Consultants. His YouTube videos about mountain flooding during Helene have been viewed hundreds of thousands of times. "People should have been expecting more than they did. But again, we have not seen anything like this."
Matthew Rice, a former Unicoi County commissioner, served as chair of the Hospital Visioning Committee for the new hospital in 2015. He said some committee members raised questions during the planning process about the location, but he conceded there weren't many large, flat places to build a hospital in Erwin.
Amid a wave of rural hospital closures across the United States, Erwin residents celebrated when the new hospital opened in 2018. One lawmaker told the Johnson City Press it was "the most modern facility on the planet."
Alan Levine was CEO of Mountain States Health Alliance during that time and later became the head of Ballad Health, when Mountain States merged with a competing hospital system in 2018 to form the largest state-sanctioned hospital monopoly in the country.
Levine said Mountain States was aware the property carried flood risk but noted that the hospital system added levees to protect the building from river flooding at the recommendation of outside consultants. One levee already existed along the river's edge. And the hospital itself was deliberately constructed on a high point of the land, at the same elevation as the interstate, Levine said.
"I feel like everything we did when we built it was done the right way," said Levine, a former healthcare leader in Louisiana and Florida.
Even so, Matson, who lives in Kingsport, about 45 minutes northwest of Erwin, said some residents were quietly critical of the new hospital's location.
"We all thought that it was a stupid idea to build a hospital in a flood plain. It's like, who does that?" Matson said. She said her opinion doesn't represent an official position of the Tennessee Emergency Management Agency.
But Unicoi isn't the only Tennessee hospital built in a flood plain. Eight others across the state were built in moderate- or high-risk flood zones, and a dozen other hospitals are situated just outside them, KFF Health News found.
The hospitals at risk span the length of the state, from Memphis on the western edge to Knoxville in the east, and include big-city general hospitals, smaller rural hospitals, and behavioral health facilities.
Some of the hospitals are decades old. Parkridge East Hospital in Chattanooga, for example, was built in the 1970s inside a high-risk flood zone. Others are more recent — like Creekside Behavioral Health in Kingsport. That building, which opened in 2018, straddles high- and moderate-risk flood zones.
Then there are facilities like Pinewood Springs in Columbia. The 60-bed mental health facility, which opened in 2020, is in a low-risk area, but the main road leading in and out of the hospital lies in a high-risk flood area.
To identify these hospitals, KFF Health News looked for licensed facilities in or near areas that, according to FEMA, have either a high flood risk (with a 1-in-100 chance of flooding in any given year) or moderate risk (a 1-in-500 chance in any given year).
But FEMA's maps likely underestimate the true flood risk, researchers and government watchdogs agree, because they're largely outdated and don't account for current or future conditions, including more frequent and more intense storms and flooding associated with climate change.
Those maps are updated on an ongoing but slow and piecemeal basis. Meanwhile, the federal regulation finalized this year to expand areas considered at risk for current and future flooding also sets more stringent building standards for critical infrastructure projects located in 100-year flood plains and funded by federal taxpayers.
The rule became effective on Sept. 9, less than three weeks before Hurricane Helene ravaged the Southern Appalachians, but it is unclear whether the incoming Trump administration will preserve it.
After he took office in 2017, President Donald Trump revoked federal flood protection standards set up under the Obama administration. Karoline Leavitt, a spokesperson for the incoming Trump administration, did not respond to emailed questions for this article.
An ‘Antiquated and Broken' System
On Sept. 24, three days before the hospital evacuation, the National Hurricane Center issued the first of several warnings predicting significant river flooding and landslides in the Southern Appalachians. Two days before the flood in Erwin, a satellite office of the National Weather Service in Morristown, Tennessee, predicted "life-threatening flash flooding" near the Tennessee-North Carolina state line.
The warnings kept coming. The National Weather Service in upstate South Carolina forecast on Sept. 26, a Thursday, that Helene would amount to one of the region's most significant weather events "in the modern era."
"I don't think people knew what that meant," said Prince, the geologist. "We just didn't have a precedent."
Ballad Health didn't anticipate that Unicoi would flood during the storm, Levine said, even though a hazard vulnerability assessment conducted annually for the hospital identifies external flooding as the second-highest risk facing Unicoi County Hospital, behind only a civil disturbance. The same 2024 assessment rated the hospital's preparedness for a flood as a "3" or "low," the worst possible score.
But a document outlining the hospital's emergency alert procedures makes no mention of flood risk. If anything, hospital leaders said they were anticipating a surge of patients during Hurricane Helene if Erwin and the surrounding area experienced widespread power outages.
"There was no conversation I had with anybody, anywhere about the risk of flooding before Friday morning," Levine said.
The day before, Jennifer Harrah, the hospital's administrator, had called a meeting to discuss the storm. Sean Ochsenbein, an emergency medicine physician and the hospital's chief medical officer, recalled that the group gathered "just to kind of circle the wagons, make sure everybody was on the same page."
Later that day, Harrah spoke to Unicoi County's emergency management director. But "let me be very clear," Ochsenbein said. "Nobody gave us — as Ballad or our hospital — any kind of indication that we would have floodwaters."
And yet little more than 24 hours after their planning meeting, both Harrah and Ochsenbein were stranded on the hospital roof, literally praying to God for their rescue.
"I called my husband, and I called my sons," Harrah said. "I told them that I loved them."
Dozens of hospital patients, staffers, and first responders were rescued by helicopter after floodwaters from the nearby river overwhelmed the building.(Maddy Alewine for KFF Health News)
One reason the impact of the storm seemed to catch people off guard was a disconnect between the strong warnings issued by the federal agencies and the low expectations that many people in the region, including Ballad Health leaders, had of the potential flood risk.
It was sunny outside when people were evacuated from the hospital roof, Thigpen pointed out. It had rained about 5 inches in Erwin over several days, but that was nothing compared with places in the North Carolina mountains that received more than 20 inches over the same period. Rainfall at those higher altitudes eventually drained into the rivers and streams that ultimately destroyed places like Erwin.
But residents in Unicoi County had no clue what was coming their way, Thigpen said, because there weren't river gauges upstream to sound alarms about dangerous water levels.
"I think that our warning systems are antiquated and broken," he said. "These people in Erwin have seen floods — and a lot of big floods — and it's never been anywhere close to this."
Tennessee state climatologist Andrew Joyner is one of several experts now calling for more river gauges to monitor water levels and a network of weather stations in every county designed to collect live precipitation data.
Thirty-eight states already operate similar systems, he said, estimating that setting up and staffing weather stations across Tennessee would cost less than $4 million in the first year.
But the state has failed to act before. Following a catastrophic flood in Waverly, Tennessee, that killed 20 people and destroyed hundreds of homes and businesses in 2021, the Tennessee General Assembly denied a $200 million request to relocate 14 public schools across the state that had been deemed vulnerable to future flooding.
‘Might Not Make It Back'
On the morning of the flood, Matson had stood with the county's emergency management director behind Unicoi County Hospital and watched the rising river. "We both had this, like, sick feeling in our stomach that said we've got to evacuate," she remembered. "I said to him, worse comes to worst, we evacuate, nothing happens. Just blame it on me."
They made the call to start moving patients out of the hospital just before 9:45 a.m. Less than 30 minutes later, the river had breached its banks, cutting a new channel in front of the hospital and eliminating access to the only road on or off the property.
When an ambulance evacuation became untenable, the Tennessee Emergency Management Agency called in swift-water teams, specially designed to rescue people in turbulent waters. But the flash flood had become so violent and the river was so full of debris that the boats couldn't safely carry patients away. Meanwhile, dangerous wind conditions prevented helicopters located to the east or west from immediately flying that morning to rescue everyone by air.
"To be honest, I really thought we may not make it back" from the rescue mission, Boyd, the flight nurse, said.
When the wind started to die down that afternoon, Virginia State Police deployed two helicopters to rescue patients. Eventually, three Black Hawk helicopters from the Tennessee National Guard assisted in the effort. Pilots were required to make multiple round trips between the hospital and the local high school to evacuate four or five people at a time who had been stranded by the flood. Some patients stranded in boats near the hospital were hoisted into helicopters, while those who were stranded on the roof were either carried onto the aircraft or climbed aboard while the helicopters lightly touched down on their skids.
As the afternoon wore on and the evacuation was nearing its completion, pilot Jeff Bush with the Virginia State Police said he learned that the hospital building was weakening. They weren't sure how much longer it would hold.
"It was intense," he said. "The fact that the building is still standing is, I think, kind of amazing."
Ballad Health evacuated two other hospitals and one nursing home by ambulance within 24 hours of the flood in Erwin, but none of those sustained damage. Meanwhile, what's left of Unicoi County Hospital stands next to the Nolichucky in a field of mud and displaced river rocks.
For now, Ballad Health has opened a temporary urgent care center and plans to establish an emergency department at the site of the former Unicoi County Memorial Hospital in downtown Erwin.
Levine said Ballad Health will eventually rebuild a full-service hospital, but he estimated the project would cost $50 million, roughly twice as much as it did in 2018. It remains unclear where it would be built.
Probably not in a flood plain, Levine said. "I would avoid it if I could."
KINGSPORT, Tenn. — Jerry Qualls had a heart attack in 2022 and was rushed by ambulance to Holston Valley Medical Center, where he was hospitalized for a week and kept alive by a ventilator and blood pump, according to his medical records.
His wife, Katherine Qualls, said his doctors offered little hope. In an interview and a written complaint to the Tennessee government, she said doctors at Holston Valley told her that her husband would not qualify for a heart transplant and shouldn't be expected to recover.
Defiant, she insisted he be transferred hours away to a hospital in Nashville. Within days of leaving Holston Valley, Jerry Qualls was awake and sitting upright, his wife said, and he ultimately received a lifesaving heart transplant.
"How many families don't know how to get a transfer and their loved one dies?" Katherine Qualls wrote in her complaint to the state. "My husband would have been dead within a few days if I didn't get him out when I did."
Holston Valley Medical Center is a flagship of Ballad Health, a 20-hospital system in northeastern Tennessee and southwestern Virginia that is the only option for hospital care in a large swath of Appalachia. Ballad formed six years ago when lawmakers in both states, in an effort to prevent hospital closures, waived federal antitrust laws so two rival health systems could merge. The merger created the largest state-sanctioned hospital monopoly in the nation.
Since then, Ballad has largely kept those hospitals open. But the monopoly has also fallen short of about three-fourths of the quality-of-care goals set by the states over the last three fiscal years, including failing to meet state benchmarks on infections, mortality, emergency room speed, and patient satisfaction, according to annual reports from the Tennessee Department of Health and Ballad itself.
Some local residents have become wary, afraid, or unwilling to seek care at Ballad hospitals and must drive over an hour to reach other options, according to written complaints to the Tennessee government and state lawmakers, public hearing testimony, and KFF Health News interviews conducted over the past year with patients, family members, local leaders, and some officials who once publicly supported the monopoly, including a former government consultant and one state lawmaker. Many of those who submitted complaints or were interviewed allege that paper-thin staffing at Ballad hospitals and ERs is the root cause of the monopoly's quality-of-care woes.
In a two-hour interview vigorously defending the company, Ballad Health CEO Alan Levine said the hospitals are rapidly recovering from a quality-of-care slump caused by COVID-19 and a subsequent rise in nursing turnover and staff shortages. These issues affected hospitals nationwide, Levine said, and were not related to the Ballad merger or the monopoly it created.
Levine declined to discuss specific complaints from patients. But he said that each of the complaints referenced in this article took issue with medical decisions made by doctors in Ballad hospitals — not "any policy or practice at Ballad."
"I can understand if the patients, if the wife, was upset about the medical decisions they made if it turned out to be wrong," Levine said. "But that has nothing to do with the merger, OK? That's a completely different issue, and it happens in hospitals all over the country."
In the interview with KFF Health News and in the days that followed, Levine flexed considerable connections to officials in the Tennessee government. As Levine spoke in a boardroom at Ballad's hilltop headquarters, he was flanked by three local mayors who voiced support for the hospitals and said complaints came from a vocal minority of their constituents. Days later, Levine got two Tennessee state agency directors and a former state health commissioner to provide emails or text messages supporting statements he made during the interview.
Logan Grant, executive director of the Tennessee Health Facilities Commission, which processes complaints against hospitals for the state, said in a statement prompted by Levine that Ballad hospitals are "not an outlier in terms of substantiated survey findings."
Joe Grandy, the mayor of Tennessee's Washington County, where Ballad is headquartered, said most residents consider the quality of care in the area "about as good as it gets."
Brenda Getaz certainly doesn't.
Getaz, 76, who spent three decades as a hospital official specializing in quality standards before retiring to Washington County, said she plans to move to Atlanta if state governments do not take action to fix Ballad in the coming year. Getaz said local medical professionals she trusts have urged her to move away so she does not have to rely on Ballad for care.
"I'm frightened to be taken to a Ballad facility," she said.
Glimpses of Government Concern
The Tennessee Department of Health, which has the most direct oversight over Ballad Health, over the past year has declined multiple interview requests to discuss the hospital monopoly. Department emails reviewed by KFF Health News, some of which were obtained through public record requests, offer glimpses of concern inside the agency.
Emails show the health department has attempted to hold Ballad more accountable for its quality of care in closed-door negotiations and is investigating Holston Valley's treatment of a recent heart patient after receiving detailed complaints from his family. In a 2023 email, Tennessee Health Commissioner Ralph Alvarado reacted to a news story about low job satisfaction among Ballad nurses by writing: "Ouch. … What are they doing to address this?"
In another email from the same year, Alvarado praised an informal report submitted at a public hearing that concluded Ballad's monopoly had caused more harm than good. The report was written by Wally Hankwitz, a retired health care executive who once led a physician management company in Kingsport. The report levied pages of criticism against Ballad's "sub-par" performance and called for the monopoly to end.
"THIS communication from the COPA hearing is particularly good," the health commissioner wrote to some of his staff. "Totally based on data. I would almost like to hear Ballad's response to this."
When asked to respond to the Hankwitz report, Levine said it was "full of errors" and that "no credible institution would pay attention to it."
Despite concerns, Tennessee and Virginia have each year determined that the benefits of the Ballad monopoly outweigh any negative impacts, issuing stamps of approval that allow the monopoly to continue. This has occurred, at least in part, because both states grade Ballad against scoring rubrics that do not prioritize quality of care.
Larry Fitzgerald, a retired Tennessee consultant who monitored the monopoly for the state for more than five years and always gave Ballad high marks, said in an interview that his hands were tied by the state's lenient grading system, which allowed Ballad to succeed on paper even when it failed to meet the state's quality-of-care goals.
Fitzgerald said he is unconvinced that the state-sanctioned monopoly had prevented any hospital closures and said the merger had "probably not" benefited local residents overall.
When asked where he would get medical attention if he lived in northeastern Tennessee or southwestern Virginia, Fitzgerald immediately responded, "I'm not going to a Ballad hospital."
In his interview, Levine alleged Fitzgerald had "basically defrauded the state" by not raising these criticisms of Ballad in his public reports on the monopoly and said it was "irresponsible" and "obscene" to express his concerns about quality of care after retiring.
'Horror Stories' From Ballad Patients
Tennessee House member Bud Hulsey, a Republican from Kingsport, wrote in a 2023 letter to the state health department that he "was an avid supporter of the merger" that created Ballad but since then had become "concerned" and "saddened" by the state of the local hospitals.
In a recent interview, Hulsey said that while his family has received excellent care from Ballad, his constituents have told him "horror stories" for years.
"I had people call me from the waiting room after they've sat there for 12 or 14 hours," Hulsey said. "The scales have far more complaints on them than accolades."
Others have soured on the monopoly, too. Joe Macione, who for years was on the board of Wellmont Health System, one of the rival companies that became Ballad, once publicly advocated for the merger.
In an interview, Macione said state leaders should have admitted years ago that the monopoly was a mistake.
"It has not worked," said Macione, 87. "All my family knows that, if I have the time, I want to go to a highly graded hospital, either in Asheville or Knoxville."
Ballad Health was created in 2018 after Tennessee and Virginia officials waived federal anti-monopoly laws and approved the nation's biggest hospital merger, based on what's called a Certificate of Public Advantage, or COPA, agreement. Ballad is now the only option for hospital care for most of the approximately 1.1 million people in a 29-county region at the nexus of Tennessee, Virginia, Kentucky, and North Carolina.
In the years since, there have been multiple signs of discontent with and within Ballad hospitals. In 2019, protesters gathered daily for eight months outside Holston Valley to oppose the closure of the neonatal intensive care unit and the downgrading of a trauma center. (Ballad has said the NICU closure was necessary and benefited patients, and a study published this year said the trauma changes saved lives.)
In 2020, Bristol Regional Medical Center CEO Greg Neal resigned after it was discovered he made the initial incision in a heart surgery despite not being a doctor, according to Tennessee state records. (Levine said in his interview that the resignation shows Ballad is holding employees accountable.)
In 2022, 14 cardiologists signed a letter warning of "severe limitations" in the Bristol Regional cardiac catheterization lab that were affecting patient safety and delaying procedures for weeks or months. (Ballad said in a letter to the Tennessee government that it worked with the cardiologists, who it said were partly to blame, to make the lab more efficient.)
In 2023, Ballad Health was ranked last among 200 large health care organizations in an analysis of nurse satisfaction published by an MIT business magazine. (Levine dismissed this analysis as unscientific.) This year, the Federal Trade Commission cited Ballad as a cautionary tale while opposing a similar hospital merger under consideration in Indiana, and a longtime Kingsport doctor took a parting shot at Ballad in his obituary. (Ballad declined to comment on either topic.)
And in August, the widow of a Tennessee sheriff filed a lawsuit alleging that Ballad caused her husband's death and intentionally understaffed hospitals "to save money." Brenda Tester, the wife of Johnson County Sheriff Eddie Tester, alleged in that lawsuit that Ballad put her husband on blood thinners and then gave him an unnecessary liver biopsy, causing "life ending internal blood loss" that led to "his cardiac arrest and ultimately his sudden death."
Ballad has yet to respond to the Tester lawsuit in court. Levine said in his interview that the doctors who treated the sheriff were not employed by Ballad but merely contracted to work in its hospitals.
Some of Ballad's most determined critics are family members of Anton Maki Jr., a former Holston Valley doctor who returned to the hospital as a patient in February. The family has filed complaints with multiple Tennessee agencies and the federal government and provided emails to KFF Health News showing that Tennessee is investigating Maki's case.
In an interview and in those complaints, Maki's family members allege Holston Valley gave Maki improper treatment, even though his symptoms and lab tests made it obvious that he was having a serious heart attack that required urgent attention.
The improper care did "permanent damage" to Maki's heart, the family's complaints allege. That damage required him to have a permanent mechanical heart pump surgically implanted at a non-Ballad hospital, said one of his daughters, Alexandra Maki, who is a surgeon in Kentucky. She said her father died after a fall three months later while still in a weakened state.
Alexandra Maki said that her father had been alarmed by the Ballad monopoly for years but that she didn't fully appreciate his warnings until she witnessed his care at Holston Valley firsthand.
"I filed these complaints because it is my duty as a doctor to report what I saw," Alexandra Maki said. "That was not care. It is a facade of a hospital. It is a well-oiled death machine."
KFF Health News reporter Samantha Liss contributed to this article.
With Donald Trump's return to the White House and Republicans taking full control of Congress in 2025, the Affordable Care Act's Medicaid expansion is back on the chopping block.
More than 3 million adults in nine states would be at immediate risk of losing their health coverage should the GOP reduce the extra federal Medicaid funding that's enabled states to widen eligibility, according to KFF, a health information nonprofit that includes KFF Health News, and the Georgetown University Center for Children and Families. That's because the states have trigger laws that would swiftly end their Medicaid expansions if federal funding falls.
The states are Arizona, Arkansas, Illinois, Indiana, Montana, New Hampshire, North Carolina, Utah, and Virginia.
The 2010 Affordable Care Act encouraged states to expand Medicaid programs to cover more low-income Americans who didn't get health insurance through their jobs. Forty states and the District of Columbia agreed, extending health insurance since 2014 to an estimated 21 million people and helping drive the U.S. uninsured rate to record lows.
In exchange, the federal government pays 90% of the cost to cover the expanded population. That's far higher than the federal match for other Medicaid beneficiaries, which averages about 57% nationwide.
Conservative policy groups, which generally have opposed the ACA, say the program costs too much and covers too many people. Democrats say the Medicaid expansion has saved lives and helped communities by widening coverage to people who could not afford private insurance.
If Congress cuts federal funding, Medicaid expansion would be at risk in all states that have opted into it — even those without trigger laws — because state legislatures would be forced to make up the difference, said Renuka Tipirneni, an associate professor at the University of Michigan's School of Public Health.
Decisions to keep or roll back the expansion "would depend on the politics at the state level," Tipirneni said.
For instance, Michigan approved a trigger as part of its Medicaid expansion in 2013, when it was controlled by a Republican governor and legislature. Last year, with the government controlled by Democrats, the state eliminated its funding trigger.
Six of the nine states with trigger laws — Arizona, Arkansas, Indiana, Montana, North Carolina, and Utah — went for Trump in the 2024 election.
Most of the nine states' triggers kick in if federal funding falls below the 90% threshold. Arizona's trigger would eliminate its expansion if funding falls below 80%.
Montana's law rolls back expansion below 90% funding but allows it to continue if lawmakers identify additional funding. Under state law, Montana lawmakers must reauthorize its Medicaid expansion in 2025 or the expansion will end.
Across the states with triggers, between 3.1 million and 3.7 million people would swiftly lose their coverage, researchers at KFF and the Georgetown center estimate. The difference depends on how states treat people who were added to Medicaid before the ACA expansion; they may continue to qualify even if the expansion ends.
Three other states — Iowa, Idaho, and New Mexico— have laws that require their governments to mitigate the financial impact of losing federal Medicaid expansion funding but would not automatically end expansions. With those three states included, about 4.3 million Medicaid expansion enrollees would be at risk of losing coverage, according to KFF.
The ACA allowed Medicaid expansions to adults with incomes up to 138% of the federal poverty level, or about $20,783 for an individual in 2024.
Nearly a quarter of the 81 million people enrolled in Medicaid nationally are in the program due to expansions.
"With a reduction in the expansion match rate, it is likely that all states would need to evaluate whether to continue expansion coverage because it would require a significant increase in state spending," said Robin Rudowitz, vice president and director of the Program on Medicaid and the Uninsured at KFF. "If states drop coverage, it is likely that there would be an increase in the number of uninsured, and that would limit access to care across red and blue states that have adopted expansion."
States rarely cut eligibility for social programs such as Medicaid once it's been granted.
The triggers make it politically easier for state lawmakers to end Medicaid expansion because they would not have to take any new action to cut coverage, said Edwin Park, a research professor at the Georgetown University Center for Children and Families.
To see the impact of trigger laws, consider what happened after the Supreme Court in 2022 struck down Roe v. Wade and, with it, the constitutional right to an abortion. Conservative lawmakers in 13 states had crafted trigger laws that would automatically implement bans in the event a national right to abortion were struck down. Those state laws resulted in restrictions taking effect immediately after the court ruling, or shortly thereafter.
States adopted triggers as part of Medicaid expansion to win over lawmakers skeptical of putting state dollars on the hook for a federal program unpopular with most Republicans.
It's unclear what Trump and congressional Republicans will do with Medicaid after he takes office in January, but one indicator could be a recent recommendation from the Paragon Health Institute, a leading conservative policy organization led by former Trump health adviser Brian Blase.
Paragon has proposed that starting in 2026 the federal government would phase down the 90% federal match for expansion until 2034, when it would reach parity with each state's federal match for its traditional enrollees. Under that plan, states could still get ACA Medicaid expansion funding but restrict coverage to enrollees with incomes up to the federal poverty level. Currently, to receive expansion funding, states must offer coverage to everyone up to 138% of the poverty level.
Daniel Derksen, director of the Center for Rural Health at the University of Arizona, said it's unlikely Arizona would move to eliminate its trigger and make up for lost federal funds. "It would be a tough sell right now as it would put a big strain on the budget," he said.
Medicaid has been in the crosshairs of Republicans in Washington before. Republican congressional leaders in 2017 proposed legislation to cut federal expansion funding, a move that would have shifted billions in costs to states. That plan, part of a strategy to repeal Obamacare, ultimately failed.
Worried that President-elect Donald Trump will curtail federal efforts to take on the nation's medical debt problem, patient and consumer advocates are looking to states to help people who can't afford their medical bills or pay down their debts.
"The election simply shifts our focus," said Eva Stahl, who oversees public policy at Undue Medical Debt, a nonprofit that has worked closely with the Biden administration and state leaders on medical debt. "States are going to be the epicenter of policy change to mitigate the harms of medical debt."
New state initiatives may not be enough to protect Americans from medical debt if the incoming Trump administration and congressional Republicans move forward with plans to scale back federal aid that has helped millions gain health insurance or reduce the cost of their plans in recent years.
Comprehensive health coverage that limits patients' out-of-pocket costs remains the best defense against medical debt.
But in the face of federal retrenchment, advocates are eyeing new initiatives in state legislatures to keep medical bills off people's credit reports, a consumer protection that can boost credit scores and make it easier to buy a car, rent an apartment, or even get a job.
Several states are looking to strengthen oversight of medical credit cards and other financial products that can leave patients paying high interest rates on top of their medical debt.
Some states are also exploring new ways to compel hospitals to bolster financial aid programs to help their patients avoid sinking into debt.
"There's an enormous amount that states can do," said Elisabeth Benjamin, who leads health care initiatives at the nonprofit Community Service Society of New York. "Look at what's happened here."
New York state has enacted several laws in recent years to rein in hospital debt collections and to expand financial aid for patients, often with support from both Democrats and Republicans in the legislature. "It doesn't matter the party. No one likes medical debt," Benjamin said.
Other states that have enacted protections in recent years include Arizona, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Illinois, Minnesota, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, Oregon, Rhode Island, and Washington. Many measures picked up bipartisan support.
President Joe Biden's administration has proved to be an ally in state efforts to control health care debt. Such debt burdens 100 million people in the United States, a KFF Health News investigation found.
Led by Biden appointee Rohit Chopra, the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has made medical debt a priority, going after aggressive collectors and exposing problematic practices across the medical debt industry. Earlier this year, the agency proposed landmark regulations to remove medical bills from consumer credit scores.
The White House also championed legislation to boost access to government-subsidized health insurance and to cap out-of-pocket drug costs for seniors, both key bulwarks against medical debt.
Trump hasn't indicated whether his administration will move ahead with the CFPB credit reporting rule, which was slated to be finalized early next year. Congressional Republicans, who will control the House and Senate next year, have blasted the proposal as regulatory overreach that will compromise the value of credit reports.
If the CFPB withdraws the proposed regulation, states could enact their own rules, following the lead of Colorado, New York, and other states that have passed credit reporting bans since 2023. Advocates in Massachusetts are pushing the legislature there to take up a ban when it reconvenes in January.
"There are a lot of different levers that states have to take on medical debt," said April Kuehnhoff, a senior attorney at the National Consumer Law Center, which has helped lead national efforts to expand debt protections for patients.
Kuehnhoff said she expects more states to crack down on medical credit card providers and other companies that lend money to patients to pay off medical bills, sometimes at double-digit interest rates.
Under the Biden administration, the CFPB has been investigating patient financing companies amid warnings that many people may not understand that signing up for a medical credit card such as CareCredit or enrolling in a payment plan through a financial services company can pile on more debt.
If the CFPB efforts stall under Trump, states could follow the lead of California, New York, and Illinois, which have all tightened rules governing patient lending in recent years.
Consumer advocates say states are also likely to continue expanding efforts to get hospitals to provide more financial assistance to reduce or eliminate bills for low- and middle-income patients, a key protection that can keep people from slipping into debt.
Hospitals historically have not made this aid readily available, prompting states such as California, Colorado, and Washington to set stronger standards to ensure more patients get help with bills they can't afford. This year, North Carolina also won approval from the Biden administration to withhold federal funding from hospitals in the state unless they agreed to expand financial assistance.
In Georgia, where state government is entirely in Republican control, officials have been discussing new measures to get hospitals to provide more assistance to patients.
"When we talk about hospitals putting profits over patients, we get lots of nodding in the legislature from Democrats and Republicans," said Liz Coyle, executive director of Georgia Watch, a consumer advocacy nonprofit.
Many advocates caution, however, that state efforts to bolster patient protections will be critically undermined if the Trump administration cuts federal funding for health insurance programs such as Medicaid and the insurance marketplaces established through the Affordable Care Act.
Trump and congressional Republicans have signaled their intent to roll back federal subsidies passed under Biden that make health plans purchased on ACA marketplaces more affordable. That could hike annual premiums by hundreds or even thousands of dollars for many enrollees, according to estimates by the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, a think tank.
And during Trump's first term, he backed efforts in Republican-led states to restrict enrollment in their Medicaid safety net programs through rules that would require people to work in order to receive benefits. GOP state leaders in Idaho, Louisiana, and other states have expressed a desire to renew such efforts.
"That's all a recipe for more medical debt," said Stahl, of Undue Medical Debt.
Jessica Altman, who heads the Covered California insurance marketplace, warned that federal cuts will imperil initiatives in her state that have limited copays and deductibles and curtailed debt for many state residents.
"States like California that have invested in critical affordable programs for our residents will face tough decisions," she said.
COVID's rampage through the country's nursing homes killed more than 172,000 residents and spurred the biggest industry reform in decades: a mandate that homes employ a minimum number of nurses.
But with President-elect Donald Trump's return to the White House, the industry is ramping up pressure to kill that requirement before it takes effect, leaving thousands of residents in homes too short-staffed to provide proper care.
The nursing home industry has been marshaling opposition for months among congressional Republicans — and some Democrats — to overrule the Biden administration's mandate. Two industry groups, the American Health Care Association and LeadingAge, have sued to overturn the regulation, and 20 Republican state attorneys general have filed their own challenge.
Consumer advocates, industry officials and independent researchers agree that the incoming administration is likely to rescind the rule, given the first Trump administration's "patients over paperwork" campaign to remove "unnecessary, obsolete, or excessively burdensome health regulations on hospitals and other healthcare providers." Among other things, Trump aided the industry by easing fines against homes that had been cited for poor care.
"The Trump administration has proven itself really eager to reverse overreaching regulations," said Linda Couch, senior vice president for policy and advocacy at LeadingAge, which represents nonprofit elder care providers. "We think it's got a pretty good chance of being repealed, and hope so."
Issued in April, the staffing regulation requires nursing homes to have registered nurses on-site around the clock — something that the industry has endorsed — and to maintain minimum numbers of nurses and aides. Four in 5 homes would have to increase staffing. The requirements would be phased in, starting in May 2026.
Even before the election, many experts and activists had doubts that the rule would be effectively enforced, given the poor results in states that have imposed their own minimums. In New York, California, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts — states with the most robust requirements — many homes remain below the legal staffing levels. Governors have given many homes reprieves, and other homes have found that paying penalties costs less than the increase in payroll for additional staff.
The federal government estimates the average annual cost over a decade to meet the Biden mandate would be $4.3 billion a year, a 2% increase in expenses, though the changes do not include increases in federal Medicare or Medicaid payments.
"Staffing is everything in terms of nursing-home quality," said R. Tamara Konetzka, a professor of public health sciences at the University of Chicago.
While the rule's effectiveness was uncertain, she worried that repealing it would send the wrong message. "We would be losing that signal that nursing homes should try really hard to improve their staffing," she said.
Advocate groups for nursing home residents, who had criticized the Biden administration rule for not requiring even higher staffing levels, have since pivoted and are trying to protect it.
"We're hoping the president-elect will come in and take a look at the science and data behind it and see this really is a modest reform," said Sam Brooks, the director for public policy for the National Consumer Voice for Quality Long-Term Care, a Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit. "We'd be devastated to see it fall."
The Trump transition team did not respond to a request for comment. The Department of Health and Human Services did not respond to requests for comment, but in a court filing it argued that nursing homes should be able to reach the required staffing levels.
"There is more than enough time to identify, train and hire additional staff," the Biden administration wrote.
The quality of care in the nation's 15,000 nursing homes and the lack of adequate staffing for their 1.2 million residents has been a concern for decades. Inspection reports continue to find homes leaving residents lying in their own feces, suffering severe bedsores and falls, contracting infections, choking on food while unattended, or ending up back in a hospital for preventable reasons. Some nursing homes overuse psychotropic medications to pacify residents because they do not have enough workers to attend to them.
Leslie Frane, executive vice president of the SEIU, the Service Employees International Union, which represents health care workers, said in a statement that "far too many nursing home owners will not do the right thing and invest in workers without oversight and binding regulation."
The nursing home industry says many homes cannot afford to increase their workforces, and that, even if they could, there is a scarcity of trained nurses, and not enough people willing to work as aides for an average $19 an hour. A registered nurse earns $40 an hour on average in a nursing home, less than what they could make at a hospital, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.
The Biden administration noted in its court filing it was planning to spend $75 million to recruit and train more workers, and that there were more than 100,000 workers who left nursing homes during the pandemic and could be lured back if salaries and working conditions were better.
Last month, owners of Centers Health Care, one of New York state's largest nursing home chains, agreed to pay $45 million to settle allegations by Attorney General Letitia James that they diverted $83 million intended for resident care to themselves during the pandemic.
Maryellen Mooney, a spokesperson for the Centers Health Care chain, which denied the allegations, said in a statement that Centers was "committed to fully implementing the settlement terms, including a significant investment in resident care."
About three-quarters of nursing homes are for-profit. The industry, though, highlights the most sympathetic examples: rural nonprofit nursing homes like Kimball County Manor & Assisted Living in Kimball, Nebraska. Its staffing levels for registered nurses are 40% below what the new rule would require, federal data shows.
Sarah Stull, Kimball's administrator, said recruitment had always been challenging and that temporary nursing staffing agencies charged more than double what she paid her own staff.
"We had to pay $65 for a nurse aide during COVID, and that's insane," she said.
The government estimated that about a fourth of the nation's nursing homes would be eligible to apply for hardship exemptions if there were a documented shortage of nurses and aides in their communities compared with the national average.
But Nate Schema, the chief executive of the Good Samaritan Society, which runs 133 nonprofit homes mainly in the rural Midwest, estimated that only seven would be likely to qualify for a hardship waiver.
"Philosophically, they sound great," he said. "But in practicality and how they're put together, they won't do much for us."
After losing and regaining the same 20-plus pounds more times than she could count, Anita Blanchard concluded that diets don't work.
So when the University of North Carolina-Charlotte professor learned that Ozempic — developed to treat Type 2 diabetes — helped people lose weight and keep it off, Blanchard was determined to try it.
The state employee's health insurance initially covered the prescription with Blanchard kicking in a $25 copayment. Over the next seven months, she said, she lost 45 pounds and lowered her blood pressure and cholesterol. The most significant benefits, though, were psychological.
"It stopped the food noise in my head, relieved my anxiety, and I was no longer drinking like a fish," said Blanchard, now 60. "I'd have a glass of wine, and then that's it."
But North Carolina suffered from sticker shock as Blanchard shed pounds and thousands of others on the state insurance program — which covers more than 76,000 employees across 178 agencies, plus their dependents — tried to do the same. Ozempic and other glucagon-like peptide-1 (GPL-1) agonist medications accounted for 10% of the state employee health plan's annual prescription drug spending, according to a North Carolina State Health Plan fact sheet. The state treasurer projected the class of drugs would cost the state more than $170 million this year, with costs jumping to more than $1 billion over the next six years.
"This exceeds the amount the State Health Plan spends on cancer, rheumatoid arthritis, and chemotherapy medications," the State Health Plan said in a March statement.
The health plan's board of trustees eliminated coverage of this class of medications for weight loss starting in April. The plan continues to cover the drug for Type 2 diabetes management.
But in a twist this August, a separate part of North Carolina's government allowed the Medicaid program to start covering the drugs for weight loss — not just diabetes — for the state's poorest residents, who are disproportionately affected by obesity and related diseases. The state's Medicaid program covers more than 2 million people.
And now the outgoing Biden administration wants to follow suit, proposing on Nov. 26 for the federal government to cover the medications to treat obesity or Medicaid patients nationwide, in addition to Medicare patients.
Still, the North Carolina coverage change left state employees like Blanchard facing a stark choice — stop taking what she views as a miracle drug or pay as much as $1,200 out-of-pocket each month.
"They know diets don't work long-term for weight loss, yet they are denying coverage for a medication that has been effective," Blanchard said. "It's indicative of a profit-driven mindset that is more about cost savings than prioritizing patients' health."
The coverage switch highlights concerns about the cost of these medications and ongoing questions about who should get to have such drugs covered by insurance.
The high prices have also raised concerns about the cost for taxpayer-funded health care programs, such as Medicare. The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services estimated that coverage under the Biden proposal would cost about $40 billion over 10 years, including an extra $3.8 billion for states. But the requirement wouldn't take effect until after President-elect Donald Trump takes office Jan. 20, giving his administration a chance to change it.
GLP-1 agonist medications, known by the brand names Ozempic, Trulicity, and Wegovy, have proved to be effective for weight loss as well as managing Type 2 diabetes. They work by triggering the pancreas to release insulin, slowing the rate at which the stomach empties, increasing satiety, and regulating appetite by sending signals to the brain to tell the body it is satisfied. But patients typically need to stay on the medications to maintain their weight loss, meaning they face long-term costs.
In clinical trials, patients taking Ozempic also showed significant reductions in cardiovascular problems such as heart attacks and strokes, even those without diabetes, or before weight loss started, said Duke University cardiologist and researcher Nishant Shah.
Making these drugs available through Medicaid is in the state's long-term financial interest, said Kody Kinsley, secretary of the North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services, which doesn't oversee the state employee health plan. Unlike private or employer insurance plans, the Medicaid program receives generous rebates on these types of drugs, significantly reducing the cost, he said.
Calling North Carolina the buckle of the "Barbecue Belt," Kinsley noted that state's obesity rate exceeds the national average. The latest analysis from NORC research organization at the University of Chicago showed that 45% of adults in the state had a body mass index above 30, the threshold for clinical obesity, compared with 42% nationwide. That number was 55% for non-Hispanic Black adults in the state.
In addition, Kinsley said, with Medicaid the primary payer for long-term care, covering the drugs helps Medicaid's bottom line by reducing the need for nursing home care often driven by unmanaged chronic diseases.
"We're trying to put our dollars where they will lower costs in the long run," he said. "I spend almost a billion dollars a year on obesity-related diseases. If I can reduce that spend by even 1%, then these drugs are a no-brainer."
But what about people who aren't on Medicaid? Duke's Shah said the U.S. health care system needs to eliminate hurdles that make it difficult to obtain the drugs. Besides making the medication more affordable, he said, it should encourage the use of weight loss drugs and treatment of obesity as a chronic disease instead of stigmatizing it as a moral failing.
"Whether it is drug cost, conditions that require the payer to approve them, the patient's health insurance plan, or the unaffordability of a plan that would cover weight loss, there are real-world barriers in our health care system," Shah said.
Family medicine physician Melissa Jones of Charlotte said she has often seen a bias against people in her weight management practice when they try to get these medications covered by private insurance.
"There's no shame in saying ‘I have high blood pressure' or ‘I inherited this condition from my family,'" Jones said. "But for some reason, there's shame associated with saying, ‘I struggle with my weight.'"
Although Blanchard can't get her Ozempic covered anymore as a state employee, a concierge doctor gave her a prescription for a nonbrand version of the anti-obesity medications from a compounding pharmacy, available for now because of shortages of the brand-name versions. Though she believes it is less effective, she pays $225 a month for it.
Carolyn Dickens, 76, was sitting at her dining room table, struggling to catch her breath as her physician looked on with concern.
"What's going on with your breathing?" asked Peter Gliatto, director of Mount Sinai's Visiting Doctors Program.
"I don't know," she answered, so softly it was hard to hear. "Going from here to the bathroom or the door, I get really winded. I don't know when it's going to be my last breath."
Dickens, a lung cancer survivor, lives in central Harlem, barely getting by. She has serious lung disease and high blood pressure and suffers regular fainting spells. In the past year, she's fallen several times and dropped to 85 pounds, a dangerously low weight.
And she lives alone, without any help — a highly perilous situation.
Across the country, about 2 million adults 65 and older are completely or mostly homebound, while an additional 5.5 million seniors can get out only with significant difficulty or assistance. This is almost surely an undercount, since the data is from more than a dozen years ago.
It's a population whose numbers far exceed those living in nursing homes — about 1.2 million — and yet it receives much less attention from policymakers, legislators, and academics who study aging.
Consider some eye-opening statistics about completely homebound seniors from a study published in 2020 in JAMA Internal Medicine: Nearly 40% have five or more chronic medical conditions, such as heart or lung disease. Almost 30% are believed to have "probable dementia." Seventy-seven percent have difficulty with at least one daily task such as bathing or dressing.
Almost 40% live by themselves.
That "on my own" status magnifies these individuals' already considerable vulnerability, something that became acutely obvious during the covid-19 outbreak, when the number of sick and disabled seniors confined to their homes doubled.
"People who are homebound, like other individuals who are seriously ill, rely on other people for so much," said Katherine Ornstein, director of the Center for Equity in Aging at the Johns Hopkins School of Nursing. "If they don't have someone there with them, they're at risk of not having food, not having access to health care, not living in a safe environment."
Research has shown that older homebound adults are less likely to receive regular primary care than other seniors. They're also more likely to end up in the hospital with medical crises that might have been prevented if someone had been checking on them.
To better understand the experiences of these seniors, I accompanied Gliatto on some home visits in New York City. Mount Sinai's Visiting Doctors Program, established in 1995, is one of the oldest in the nation. Only 12% of older U.S. adults who rarely or never leave home have access to this kind of home-based primary care.
Gliatto and his staff — seven part-time doctors, three nurse practitioners, two nurses, two social workers, and three administrative staffers — serve about 1,000 patients in Manhattan each year.
These patients have complicated needs and require high levels of assistance. In recent years, Gliatto has had to cut staff as Mount Sinai has reduced its financial contribution to the program. It doesn't turn a profit, because reimbursement for services is low and expenses are high.
First, Gliatto stopped in to see Sandra Pettway, 79, who never married or had children and has lived by herself in a two-bedroom Harlem apartment for 30 years.
Pettway has severe spinal problems and back pain, as well as Type 2 diabetes and depression. She has difficulty moving around and rarely leaves her apartment. "Since the pandemic, it's been awfully lonely," she told me.
When I asked who checks in on her, Pettway mentioned her next-door neighbor. There's no one else she sees regularly.
Pettway told the doctor she was increasingly apprehensive about an upcoming spinal surgery. He reassured her that Medicare would cover in-home nursing care, aides, and physical therapy services.
"Someone will be with you, at least for six weeks," he said. Left unsaid: Afterward, she would be on her own. (The surgery in April went well, Gliatto reported later.)
The doctor listened carefully as Pettway talked about her memory lapses.
"I can remember when I was a year old, but I can't remember 10 minutes ago," she said. He told her that he thought she was managing well but that he would arrange testing if there was further evidence of cognitive decline. For now, he said, he's not particularly worried about her ability to manage on her own.
Several blocks away, Gliatto visited Dickens, who has lived in her one-bedroom Harlem apartment for 31 years. Dickens told me she hasn't seen other people regularly since her sister, who used to help her out, had a stroke. Most of the neighbors she knew well have died. Her only other close relative is a niece in the Bronx whom she sees about once a month.
Dickens worked with special-education students for decades in New York City's public schools. Now she lives on a small pension and Social Security — too much to qualify for Medicaid. (Medicaid, the program for low-income people, will pay for aides in the home. Medicare, which covers people over age 65, does not.) Like Pettway, she has only a small fixed income, so she can't afford in-home help.
Every Friday, God's Love We Deliver, an organization that prepares medically tailored meals for sick people, delivers a week's worth of frozen breakfasts and dinners that Dickens reheats in the microwave. She almost never goes out. When she has energy, she tries to do a bit of cleaning.
Without the ongoing attention from Gliatto, Dickens doesn't know what she'd do. "Having to get up and go out, you know, putting on your clothes, it's a task," she said. "And I have the fear of falling."
The next day, Gliatto visited Marianne Gluck Morrison, 73, a former survey researcher for New York City's personnel department, in her cluttered Greenwich Village apartment. Morrison, who doesn't have any siblings or children, was widowed in 2010 and has lived alone since.
Morrison said she'd been feeling dizzy over the past few weeks, and Gliatto gave her a basic neurological exam, asking her to follow his fingers with her eyes and touch her fingers to her nose.
"I think your problem is with your ear, not your brain," he told her, describing symptoms of vertigo.
Because she had severe wounds on her feet related to Type 2 diabetes, Morrison had been getting home health care for several weeks through Medicare. But those services — help from aides, nurses, and physical therapists — were due to expire in two weeks.
"I don't know what I'll do then, probably just spend a lot of time in bed," Morrison told me. Among her other medical conditions: congestive heart failure, osteoarthritis, an irregular heartbeat, chronic kidney disease, and depression.
Morrison hasn't left her apartment since November 2023, when she returned home after a hospitalization and several months at a rehabilitation center. Climbing the three steps that lead up into her apartment building is simply too hard.
"It's hard to be by myself so much of the time. It's lonely," she told me. "I would love to have people see me in the house. But at this point, because of the clutter, I can't do it."
When I asked Morrison who she feels she can count on, she listed Gliatto and a mental health therapist from Henry Street Settlement, a social services organization. She has one close friend she speaks with on the phone most nights.
"The problem is I've lost eight to nine friends in the last 15 years," she said, sighing heavily. "They've died or moved away."
Bruce Leff, director of the Center for Transformative Geriatric Research at the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, is a leading advocate of home-based medical care. "It's kind of amazing how people find ways to get by," he said when I asked him about homebound older adults who live alone. "There's a significant degree of frailty and vulnerability, but there is also substantial resilience."
With the rapid expansion of the aging population in the years ahead, Leff is convinced that more kinds of care will move into the home, everything from rehab services to palliative care to hospital-level services.
"It will simply be impossible to build enough hospitals and health facilities to meet the demand from an aging population," he said.
But that will be challenging for homebound older adults who are on their own. Without on-site family caregivers, there may be no one around to help manage this home-based care.