If you live in one of the rural communities tucked into the forested hillsides along the Oregon-California border and need serious medical care, you'll probably wind up at Asante Rogue Regional Medical Center. It serves about nine counties on either side of the border.
It is one of three hospitals Asante owns in the region. All three ICUs are 100% full of COVID patients, according to staff members.
"We've had two deaths today. So, it's a very grim, difficult time," Dr. Michael Blumhardt, medical director of the hospital's intensive care unit, said on a recent Tuesday in August. "The delta virus is passing through the region like a buzzsaw."
Unlike earlier COVID waves, he said, patients are in their 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s.
"We're seeing clusters of families being admitted. We had a father and an adult daughter admitted to the intensive care unit and he passed away. Right before, I had to put the daughter on life support," he said.
Overall, vaccination rates in many states look pretty good. Oregon and California both have vaccination rates above the national average. But zoom in on any state, and you'll see a checkerboard effect with huge differences among counties. In Oregon, around big-city Portland, two-thirds of all residents are fully vaccinated. But rural counties aren't even close to that. Jackson County, on the California border, has the largest number of unvaccinated individuals in Oregon. That's pushing hospitals to their limits.
Blumhardt blames the current surge on the delta variant, but also a widespread rejection of the vaccine.
"This is far more severe for this region than the prior COVID waves," he said.
Inside the Asante ICU, Chelsea Orr, a registered nurse, closely monitors patients, "just trying to keep people alive," she said. "We're taking care of a lot of ventilated patients here that are super sick."
What feels different about this stage of the pandemic, she said, is the incredible loss of life: "We're working harder than we've ever worked before and still losing."
Down the hallway, Justin McCoy waited outside another patient's isolation room. "I've been an ICU nurse for 10 years. I've never seen anything like this," McCoy said. "It's really terrible seeing these patients who can't breathe. That is a very difficult thing to watch. It's really terrifying for them, and it's really difficult for us to see day in and day out."
Blumhardt said the vast majority of their COVID patients are unvaccinated.
"We admit nine unvaccinated to every one vaccinated individual. So clearly the vaccine is protecting against hospital admission," he said.
Jackson County has been seeing record numbers of new COVID infections. Within weeks, many of those people may need hospital care — and a new forecast from Oregon Health & Science University predicts that by Labor Day the state will face a shortfall of 400 to 500 staffed hospital beds.
Blumhardt said smaller hospitals in Oregon are trying to transfer their sickest patients to Asante, but so far they've had to decline around 200 people because of lack of space.
Even though Asante has already postponed some surgeries, staffers are simply worn out, said emergency room physician Dr. Courtney Wilson.
"I think people are frustrated," Wilson said. "It feels discouraging that we have had a vaccine available for a really long time in this community and we have a really low vaccination rate here."
Oregon Democratic Gov. Kate Brown recently sent National Guard troops to overwhelmed counties, to help with nonmedical tasks, including about 150 soldiers to southern Oregon. Medical leaders at Asante and another local hospital system, Providence, have asked for the state to set up a 300-bed field hospital.
"I don't know how we're going to get everybody taken care of. That's the bottom line. We're all hands on deck at every level of the organization," Blumhardt said.
Residents of Jackson County are starting to respond to the crisis. The rate of new vaccinations here has grown to about twice that of the Portland area. But thousands of people still need to be vaccinated to catch up.
If you live in one state, does it matter that the doctor treating you online is in another? Surprisingly, the answer is yes, and the ability to conduct certain virtual appointments may be nearing an end.
Televisits for medical care took off during the worst days of the pandemic, quickly becoming commonplace. Most states and the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services temporarily waived rules requiring licensed clinicians to hold a valid license in the state where their patient is located. Those restrictions don't keep patients from visiting doctors' offices in other states, but problems could arise if those same patients used telemedicine.
Now states are rolling back many of those pandemic workarounds.
Johns Hopkins Medicine in Baltimore, for example, recently scrambled to notify more than 1,000 Virginia patients that their telehealth appointments were "no longer feasible," said Dr. Brian Hasselfeld, medical director of digital health and telemedicine at Johns Hopkins. Virginia is among the states where the emergency orders are expiring or being rolled back.
At least 17 states still have waivers in effect, according to a tracker maintained by the Alliance for Connected Care, a lobbying group representing insurers, tech companies and pharmacies.
As those rules end, "it risks increasing barriers" to care, said Hasselfeld. Johns Hopkins, he added, hosted more than 1 million televisits, serving more than 330,000 unique patients, since the pandemic began. About 10% of those visits were from states where Johns Hopkins does not operate facilities.
The rollbacks come amid a longer and larger debate over states' authority around medical licensing that the pandemic — with its widespread adoption of telehealth services — has put front and center.
"Consumers don't know about these regulations, but if you all of a sudden pull the rug out from these services, you will definitely see a consumer backlash," said Dr. Harry Greenspun, chief medical officer for the consultancy Guidehouse.
Still, finding a way forward pits high-powered stakeholders against one another, and consumers' input is likely to be muted.
State medical boards don't want to cede authority, saying their power to license and discipline medical professionals boosts patient safety. Licensing is also a source of state revenue.
Providers have long been split on whether to change cross-state licensing rules. Different state requirements — along with fees — make it cumbersome and expensive for doctors, nurses and other clinicians to get licenses in multiple states, leading to calls for more flexibility. Even so, those efforts have faced pushback from within the profession, with opposition from other clinicians who fear the added competition that could come from telehealth could lead to losing patients or jobs.
"As with most things in medicine, it's a bottom-line issue. The reason telehealth has been blocked across state lines for many years related fundamentally to physicians wanting to protect their own practices," said Greenspun.
But the pandemic changed the equation.
Even though the initial spike in telehealth visits has eased, utilization remains 38 times higher than before the pandemic, attracting not only patients, but also venture capitalists seeking to join the hot business opportunity, according to a report from consulting firm McKinsey and Co.
Patients' experience with televisits coupled with the growing interest by investors is focusing attention on this formerly inside-baseball issue of cross-state licensing.
Greenspun predicts consumers will ultimately drive the solution by "voting with their wallets," aided by giant, consumer-focused retailers like Amazon and Walmart, both of which in recent months made forays into telemedicine.
In the short term, however, the focus is on both the protections and the barriers state regulations create.
"The whole challenge is to ensure maximum access to health while assuring quality," said Barak Richman, a Duke University law professor, who said laws and policies haven't been updated to reflect new technological realities partly because state boards want to hang onto their authority.
Patients and their doctors are getting creative, with some consumers simply driving across state lines, then making a Zoom call from their vehicle.
"It's not ideal, but some patients say they are willing to drive a mile or two and sit in a parking lot in a private space and continue to get my care," said Dr. Shabana Khan, director of telepsychiatry at NYU Langone Health's department of child and adolescent psychiatry and a member of the American Psychiatric Association's Telepsychiatry Committee. She and other practitioners ask their patients about their locations, mainly for safety reasons, but also to check that they are in-state.
Still, for some patients, driving to another state for an in-person or even a virtual appointment is not an option.
Khan worries about people whose care is interrupted by the changes, especially those reluctant to seek out new therapists or who cannot find any clinicians taking new patients.
Austin Smith hopes that doesn't happen to him.
After initial treatment for what he calls a "weird flavor of cancer" didn't help reduce his gastrointestinal stromal tumors, he searched out other experts, landing in a clinical trial. But it was in San Diego and the 28-year-old salesman lives in Phoenix.
Although he drives more than five hours each way every couple of months for treatment and to see his doctors, he does much of his other follow-up online. The only difference is "if I was in person, and I said I was hurting here, the doctor could poke me," he said.
And if the rules change? He'll make the drive. "I'll do anything to beat this," he said of his cancer.
But will doctors, whose patients have spent the past year or more growing comfortable with virtual visits, also be willing to take steps that could likely involve extra costs and red tape?
To get additional licenses, for instance, practitioners must submit applications in every state where their patients reside, each of which can take weeks or months to process. They must pay application fees and keep up with a range of requirements such as continuing education, which vary by state.
States say their traditional role as overseer ensures that all applicants meet educational requirements and pass background checks. They also investigate complaints and argue there's an advantage to keeping local officials in charge.
"It's closer to home," said Lisa Robin, chief advocacy officer with the Federation of State Medical Boards. "There's a remedy for residents of the state with their own state officials."
Doctor groups such as the American Medical Association agree.
Allowing a change that doesn't put centralized authority in a patient's home state would raise "serious enforcement issues as states do not have interstate policing authority and cannot investigate incidents that happen in another state," said then-AMA President-elect Jack Resneck during a congressional hearing in March.
But others want more flexibility and say it can be done safely.
Hasselfeld, at Johns Hopkins, said there is precedent for easing multistate licensing requirements. The Department of Veterans Affairs, for example, allows medical staffers who are properly licensed in at least one state to treat patients in any VA facility.
The Alliance for Connected Care and other advocates are pushing states to extend their pandemic rules. A few have done so. Arizona, for example, made permanent the rules allowing out-of-state medical providers to practice telemedicine for Arizona residents, as long as they register with the state and their home-state license is in good standing. Connecticut's similar rules have now been stretched until June 2023.
The alliance and others also back legislation stalled in Congress that would temporarily allow medical professionals licensed in one state to treat — either in person or via televisits — patients in any other state.
Because such fixes are controversial, voluntary interstate pacts have gained attention. Several already exist: one each for nurses, doctors, physical therapists and psychologists. Proponents say they are a simple way to ensure state boards retain authority and high standards, while making it easier for licensed medical professionals to expand their geographic range.
The nurses' compact, enacted by 37 states and Guam, allows registered nurses with a valid license in one state to have it recognized by all the others in the pact.
A different kind of model is the Interstate Physician Licensure Compact, which has been enacted by 33 states, plus the District of Columbia and Guam, and has issued more than 21,000 licenses since it began in 2017, said Robin, of the Federation of State Medical Boards.
While it speeds the paperwork process, it does not eliminate the cost of applying for licenses in each state.
The compact simplifies the process by having the applicant physician's home state confirm his or her eligibility and perform a criminal background check. If the applicant is eligible, the home state sends a letter of qualification to the new state, which then issues a license, Robin said. Physicians must meet all rules and laws in each state, such as requirements for continuing medical education. Additionally, they cannot have a history of disciplinary actions or currently be under investigation.
"It's a fairly high bar," said Robin.
Such compacts — especially if they are bolstered by new legislation at the federal level — could help the advances in telehealth made during the pandemic stick around for good, expanding access to care for both mental health services and medical care across the U.S. "What's at stake if we get this right," said Richman at Duke, "is making sure we have an innovative marketplace that fully uses virtual technology and a regulatory system that encourages competition and quality."
In the rural northeastern corner of Missouri, Scotland County Hospital has been so low on staff that it sometimes had to turn away patients amid a surge in COVID-19 cases.
The national COVID staffing crunch means CEO Dr. Randy Tobler has hired more travel nurses to fill the gaps. And the prices are steep — what he called "crazy" rates of $200 an hour or more, which Tobler said his small rural hospital cannot afford.
A little over 60% of his staff is fully vaccinated. Even as COVID cases rise, though, a vaccine mandate is out of the question.
"If that becomes our differential advantage, we probably won't have one until we're forced to have one," Tobler said. "Maybe that's the thing that will keep nurses here."
As of Thursday, about 39% of U.S. hospitals had announced vaccine mandates, said Colin Milligan, a spokesperson for the American Hospital Association. Across Missouri and the nation, hospitals are weighing more than patient and caregiver health in deciding whether to mandate COVID vaccines for staffers.
The market for healthcare labor, strained by more than a year and a half of coping with the pandemic, continues to be pinched. While urban hospitals with deeper pockets for shoring up staff have implemented vaccine mandates, and may even use them as a selling point to recruit staffers and patients, their rural and regional counterparts are left with hard choices as cases surge again.
"Obviously, it's going to be a real challenge for these small, rural hospitals to mandate a vaccine when they're already facing such significant workforce shortages," said Alan Morgan, head of the National Rural Health Association.
Without vaccine mandates, this could lead to a desperate cycle: Areas with fewer vaccinated residents likely have fewer vaccinated hospital workers, too, making them more likely to be hard hit by the delta variant sweeping America. In the short term, mandates might drive away some workers. But the surge could also squeeze the hospital workforce further as patients flood in and staffers take sick days.
Rural COVID mortality rates were almost 70% higher on average than urban ones for the week ending Aug. 15, according to the Rural Policy Research Institute.
Despite the scientific knowledge that COVID vaccinations sharply lower the risk of infection, hospitalization and death, the lack of a vaccine mandate can serve as a hospital recruiting tool. In Nebraska, the state veterans affairs' agency prominently displays the lack of a vaccine requirement for nurses on its job site, The Associated Press reported.
It all comes back to workforce shortages, especially in more vaccine-hesitant communities, said Jacy Warrell, executive director of the Rural Health Association of Tennessee. She pointed out that some regional healthcare systems don't qualify for staffing assistance from the National Guard as they have fewer than 200 beds. A potential vaccine mandate further endangers their staffing numbers, she said.
"They're going to have to think twice about it," Warrell said. "They're going to have to weigh the risk and benefit there."
The mandates are having ripple effects throughout the healthcare industry. The federal government has mandated that all nursing homes require COVID vaccinations or risk losing Medicare and Medicaid reimbursements, and industry groups have warned that workers may jump to other healthcare settings. Meanwhile, Montana has banned vaccine mandates altogether, and the Montana Hospital Association has gotten one call from a healthcare worker interested in working in the state because of it, said spokesperson Katy Peterson.
It's not just nurses at stake with vaccine mandates. Respiratory techs, nursing assistants, food service employees, billing staff and other healthcare workers are already in short supply. According to the latest KFF/The Washington Post Frontline Healthcare Workers Survey, released in April, at least one-third of healthcare workers who assist with patient care and administrative tasks have considered leaving the workforce.
The combination of burnout and added stress of people leaving their jobs has worn down the healthcare workers the public often forgets about, said interventional radiology tech Joseph Brown, who works at Sutter Roseville Medical Center outside Sacramento, California.
This has a domino effect, Brown said: More of his co-workers are going on stress and medical leave as their numbers dwindle and while hospitals run out of beds. He said nurses' aides already doing backbreaking work are suddenly forced to care for more patients.
"Explain to me how you get 15 people up to a toilet, do the vitals, change the beds, provide the care you're supposed to provide for 15 people in an eight-hour shift and not injure yourself," he said.
In Missouri, Tobler said his wife, Heliene, is training to be a volunteer certified medical assistant to help fill the gap in the hospital's rural health clinic.
Tobler is waiting to see if the larger St. Louis hospitals lose staff in the coming weeks as their vaccine mandates go into effect, and what impact that could have throughout the state.
In the hard-hit southwestern corner of Missouri, CoxHealth president and CEO Steve Edwards said his health system headquartered in Springfield is upping its minimum wage to $15.25 an hour to compete for workers.
While the estimated $25 million price tag of such a salary boost will take away about half the hospital system's bottom line, Edwards said, the investment is necessary to keep up with the competitive labor market and cushion the blow of the potential loss of staffers to the hospital's upcoming Oct. 15 vaccine mandate.
"We're asking people to take bedpans and work all night and do really difficult work and maybe put themselves in harm's way," he said. "It seems like a much harder job than some of these 9-to-5 jobs in an Amazon distribution center."
Two of his employees died from COVID. In July alone, Edwards said 500 staffers were out, predominantly due to the virus. The vaccine mandate could keep that from happening, Edwards said.
"You may have the finest neurosurgeon, but if you don't have a registration person everything stops," he said. "We're all interdependent on each other."
But California's Brown, who is vaccinated, said he worries about his colleagues who may lose their jobs because they are unwilling to comply with vaccine mandates.
California has mandated that healthcare workers complete their COVID vaccination shots by the end of September. The state is already seeing traveling nurses turn down assignments there because they do not want to be vaccinated, CalMatters reported.
Since the mandate applies statewide, workers cannot go work at another hospital without vaccine requirements nearby. Brown is frustrated that hospital administrators and lawmakers, who have "zero COVID exposure," are the ones making those decisions.
"Hospitals across the country posted signs that said 'Healthcare heroes work here.' Where is the reward for our heroes?" he asked. "Right now, the hospitals are telling us the reward for the heroes: 'If you don't get the vaccine, you're fired.'"
After a decade of living with chronic kidney disease, Vonita McGee knows her body is wearing out.
At 63, McGee undergoes dialysis sessions three times each week at a Northwest Kidney Centers site near her Burien, Washington, home to rid her blood of waste and water. She has endured the placement of more than a dozen ports, or access sites, in her arms and chest as sites became scarred and unusable. Late last month, doctors performed surgery to install yet another port near her left elbow, but no one is certain it will hold.
"Because of scar tissue, I was told this is my last viable access," she said.
Without ongoing dialysis, McGee knows she could face death within days or weeks. But, unlike many of the nearly 500,000 U.S. patients who require dialysis, McGee said she's had help making peace with the process.
"I know that things are coming," she said. "I'm in awe of death, but I'm not afraid of it anymore."
That's largely attributed to a novel effort in Washington state that embeds palliative care within a kidney center whose clinics treat patients living with kidney disease; and then later pair dying patients with hospice care without forcing them to forgo the comfort that dialysis may still provide.
Traditional hospice services require kidney patients to abandon dialysis, a decision that hastens death, and almost inevitably comes with acute symptoms, including muscle spasms and nausea.
McGee is one of 400 patients enrolled since 2019 in a first-in-the-nation palliative care program housed at Northwest Kidney Centers, a Seattle-based operation with clinics throughout the region. The organization founded the first dialysis center in the U.S. — and the world — nearly 50 years ago.
Chronic kidney disease, or CKD, encompasses five stages, from mild damage in the organs' functioning in stage 1 to complete kidney failure in stage 5. Most patients start preparing for dialysis — and kidney failure — in stage 4. Dialysis does not cure kidney failure. The only other option for treatment is an organ transplant.
Dialysis patients typically face distressing physical, emotional and spiritual symptoms throughout their treatment, ranging from pain, shortness of breath and intense itching to depression and panic. The symptoms can grow dire as years pass.
But only a fraction of those patients, 4% or fewer, ever receive specialized palliative care that can effectively target those issues, said Dr. Daniel Lam, the University of Washington nephrologist and palliative care expert who launched the program with the help of a two-year, $180,000 grant from the Cambia Health Foundation. Attention to palliative care in nephrology has lagged behind its use for advanced cancer, for instance.
That's especially true for Black patients and other minorities, who are disproportionately more likely than white patients to require dialysis, but far less likely to receive quality palliative or end-of-life care.
"We're trying to address this current and projected gap," Lam said. "What we are doing is asking people how do they want to live their lives and what's most important to them."
If McGee's condition deteriorates to the point that she has a prognosis of six months or less to live, she will then be a candidate for a related partnership between the kidney center and the nonprofit Providence Hospice of Seattle, which would allow her to continue to receive dialysis even after hospice care begins.
While the goal of both hospice and palliative care is pain and symptom relief, hospice has traditionally been regarded as comfort care without the intent to treat or cure the primary disease. The nuance with dialysis is that it is central to keeping a kidney patient's body functioning; discontinuing it abruptly results in death within days.
"The goal of this program is to provide kind of a smooth off-ramp from curative dialysis to the end of their lives," said Mackenzie "Mack" Daniek, who co-directs the hospice.
Most dialysis patients face a harrowing choice between continuing dialysis or receiving hospice services. That's because the Medicare hospice benefit, which took effect in 1983, provides palliative care and support for terminally ill patients who have six months or less to live — and who agree to forgo curative or life-prolonging care.
That rigid requirement could change in the future. The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services has approved an experimental model that will allow concurrent care for some patients starting next year. But, for now, Medicare will not simultaneously pay for dialysis and hospice care for patients with a terminal diagnosis of kidney failure.
Hospices receive a daily per-patient rate from Medicare, typically $200 or less, and must use it to cover all services related to the terminal diagnosis. Dialysis can easily cost $250 a session, which means only the largest hospices, those with 500 or more patients, can absorb the costs of providing concurrent care. Only about 1% of the more than 4,500 hospices in the U.S. meet that mark.
The result? About a quarter of dialysis patients receive hospice care, compared with about half of the general Medicare population. And their median time spent in hospice care is about five days compared with more than 17 days for the general population. This means that dialysis patients often receive aggressive medical treatment until the very end of life, missing out on the comfort of targeted end-of-life care.
"What's happened through the years is when a dialysis patient is ready to stop treatment, that's when they come to hospice," said Dr. Keith Lagnese, chief medical officer of the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center Family Hospice. "They're forced to draw that line in the sand. Like many things in life, it's not easy to do."
Lagnese said the Seattle program is among the first in the U.S. to address palliative and hospice care among dialysis patients. His UPMC program, which has experimented with concurrent care, allows patients up to 10 dialysis treatments after they enter hospice care.
In the Washington state program, there's no limit on the number of sessions a patient can receive. That helps ease the patient into the new arrangement, instead of abruptly halting the treatment they've been receiving, often for years.
"If they're faced with immediately stopping, they feel like they're falling off of a cliff," said Lam, the program's founder.
In McGee's case, she's had the benefit of palliative care for three years to help negotiate the daily struggles that come with dialysis. The care focuses on relieving the physical side effects, and emotional symptoms such as depression and anxiety. It also addresses spiritual needs, which McGee said has helped augment the comfort she finds as a member of the Baha'i religious faith.
"They provide mental support, and they inform you what you need to do to do things properly, and they're your liaisons," McGee said. "Basically, I was just living before without knowing the information."
When she considers her degenerating medical condition and the possibility that it will become too difficult, even impossible, to continue dialysis long term, she said she welcomes the option to ease into the final stage of her life.
"Do I feel scared? At one point, I did," McGee said. "But they are assuring me that my rights will be honored, they will be advocates for me when it happens. By having that support, it gives me my time to live."
Medicaid enrollees are getting vaccinated against COVID-19 at far lower rates than the general population as states search for the best strategies to improve access to the shots and persuade those who remain hesitant.
Efforts by state Medicaid agencies and the private health plans that most states pay to cover their low-income residents has been scattershot and hampered by a lack of access to state data about which members are immunized. The problems reflect the decentralized nature of the health program, funded largely by the federal government but managed by the states.
It also points to the difficulty in getting the message to Medicaid populations about the importance of the COVID vaccines and challenges they face getting care.
"These are some of the hardest-to-reach populations and those often last in line for medical care," said Craig Kennedy, CEO of Medicaid Health Plans of America, a trade group. Medicaid enrollees often face hurdles accessing vaccines, including worries about taking time off work or finding transportation, he said.
In California, 49% of enrollees age 12 and older in Medi-Cal (the name of Medicaid in California) are at least partly vaccinated, compared with 74% for Californians overall.
Unlike some other large states, such as Texas and Pennsylvania, California provides its Medicaid plans with information from vaccine registries, which can help them target unvaccinated enrollees. But still, the rate of immunizations lags far behind that of the general population.
According to detailed reports showing vaccination rates by county and by health plan, rates around the state vary dramatically. In Silicon Valley's Santa Clara County, 63% of Medi-Cal members have been vaccinated, versus 38% in neighboring Stanislaus County. California health plans are working with community groups to knock on doors in neighborhoods with low vaccination rates and providing shots on the spot.
This fall, California — which has the nation's largest Medicaid program, with nearly 14 million people — will offer its Medi-Cal health plans $250 million in incentives to vaccinate members. The state is also putting up $100 million for gift cards limited to $50 for each enrollee.
In other states — such as Kentucky and Ohio — health plans are giving $100 gift cards to members when they get vaccinated.
While more than 202 million Americans are at least partly vaccinated against COVID, nearly 30% of people 12 and older remain unvaccinated. Surveys show poor people are less likely to get a shot.
More than two-thirds of Medicaid beneficiaries across the country are covered by a private health plan. States pay a monthly fee to the plan for each member to handle medical needs and preventive care.
Nationally, about 70% of Medicaid enrollees are at least 12 years old and eligible for the vaccines, according to a KFF analysis.
State Medicaid programs that can track their progress show modest results:
In Florida, 34% of Medicaid recipients are at least partly vaccinated, compared with 67% for all residents 12 and older.
In Utah, 43% of Medicaid recipients are at least partly vaccinated, compared with 68% statewide.
In Louisiana, 26% of Medicaid enrollees are at least partly vaccinated, compared with 59% for the state population.
In Washington, D.C., 41% of Medicaid enrollees are at least partly vaccinated, compared with 76% of all residents.
"We know how we are doing, and it's not great," said Dr. Pamela Riley, medical director of the D.C. Department of Healthcare Finance, which oversees Medicaid.
Hemi Tewarson, executive director of the National Academy for State Health Policy, said she "had hoped there would not be this much of a disparity, but clearly there is."
Medicaid agencies in several states, including Pennsylvania, Missouri, New Jersey and Texas, said they lack complete data on vaccination rates and don't have access to state registries showing who has been immunized. Health experts say that, without that data, the Medicaid vaccine campaigns are virtually flying blind.
"Having data is step one in knowing who to reach out to and who to call and who to have doctors and pediatricians help out with," said Julia Raifman, assistant professor of health law, policy and management at Boston University.
For years, Medicaid programs have worked with providers to improve vaccination rates among children and adults. But now, Medicaid officials need more direction from the federal government to set up "a more clear and focused and effective approach" to control COVID, Raifman said.
Chiquita Brooks-LaSure, the administrator of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, said the federal government is giving extra funding to state Medicaid programs to encourage COVID vaccinations. "We're also encouraging states to remind people enrolled in their state Medicaid plans that vaccines are free, safe, and effective," she said in a statement to KHN. Kennedy, of Medicaid Health Plans of America, said the job of getting shots to Medicaid enrollees is harder when states don't share immunization data.
"We need access to the state immunization registries so we can make informed decisions to get those unvaccinated people vaccinated and identify those doing a great job, but it all starts with data sharing," he said.
Medicaid agencies' claims data doesn't account for the many enrollees who get vaccinated at federal immunization sites and other places that don't require insurance information.
California Medicaid officials said they can track enrollee vaccination by linking to the state Department of Public Health's immunization registry, which captures residents' inoculations regardless of where they occur in the state.
Data as of Aug. 8 shows rural Lassen County in northeastern California with the lowest vaccination rate among Medi-Cal enrollees, at 21%, and San Francisco with the highest, at 67%.
Medicaid enrollees' vaccination rates fall short even compared with those of other people in the same county. In San Diego County, for example, 91% of residents are at least partially vaccinated, compared with 51% of Medicaid recipients.
Jana Eubank, executive director of the Texas Association of Community Health Centers, said her clinics would be grateful to know which Medicaid recipients are vaccinated to better target immunization campaigns. Having the data would also help providers make sure people get an additional dose, often called a booster, being recommended this fall.
"We have a pretty good sense, but it would be great to have more detail, as that would allow us to be more focused with our finite resources," Eubank said.
Pennsylvania's Department of Human Services, which oversees Medicaid, said it requested vaccine registry data from the state health department in the spring but hasn't received it. A health department spokesperson said her agency was working through legal issues to safeguard the registry's personal health data.
"Getting accurate, comprehensive vaccination data for our Medicaid recipients is a priority, but we cannot do so based off claims and ad hoc data alone," said Ali Fogarty, a Pennsylvania Medicaid spokesperson.
Dr. David Kelley, chief medical officer of the state's Medicaid program, said the lack of immunization data hasn't slowed the agency's vaccination work: "We are continuing full steam ahead to get folks immunized."
AmeriHealth Caritas, which operates Medicaid health plans in Pennsylvania, Florida and six other states and the District of Columbia, has about 25% of its Medicaid enrollees vaccinated, said Dr. Andrea Gelzer, senior vice president of medical affairs.
AmeriHealth is working with its doctors and community organizations to support vaccine clinics. It has offered free transportation and made vaccines available to homebound enrollees.
In Louisiana, the Medicaid program has offered bonuses to five health plans to spur vaccines. But so far only one, Aetna, has qualified.
Louisiana Medicaid is paying Aetna $286,000 for improving its vaccination rates by 20 percentage points from May to August, state and health plan officials said. Aetna had at least partly vaccinated 36% of its enrollees as of Aug. 16.
John Baackes, CEO of L.A. Care Health Plan, said he remains skeptical about paying people to get their shots and said it could upset enrollees who already have been vaccinated and won't qualify for cash or a gift card. "We don't think gift cards are going to move the needle very much," he said.
As part of its strategy to increase vaccinations, the health plan has called members at high risk of COVID complications to get them into walk-up or drive-thru immunization sites and helped homebound members get shots where they live. About half the plan's eligible enrollees have received at least one dose.
Richard Sanchez, CEO of CalOptima, the Medicaid health plan in Orange County, California, said offering $25 Subway gift cards helped increase vaccinations among members living at homeless shelters.
As of mid-August, about 56% of its eligible enrollees were at least partly vaccinated. "We are not where we should be, and the nation is not where it should be," Sanchez said.
Two state government websites in Georgia recently stopped posting updates on COVID-19 cases in prisons and long-term care facilities, just as the dangerous delta variant was taking hold.
Data has been disappearing recently in other states as well.
Florida, for example, now reports COVID cases, deaths and hospitalizations once a week, instead of daily, as before.
Both states, along with the rest of the South, are battling high infection rates.
Public health experts are voicing concern about the pullback of COVID information. Dr. Georges Benjamin, executive director of the American Public Health Association, called the trend "not good for government and the public" because it gives the appearance of governments "hiding stuff."
A month ago, the Georgia agency that runs state prisons stopped giving public updates on the number of new COVID cases among inmates and staff members. The Department of Corrections, in explaining this decision, cited its successful vaccination rates and "a declining number of COVID-19 cases among staff and inmates."
Now, a month later, Georgia has among the highest COVID infection rates in the U.S. — along with one of the lowest vaccination rates. But the corrections department hasn't resumed posting case data on its website.
When asked by KHN about the COVID situation in prisons, department spokesperson Joan Heath said Monday that it currently has 308 active cases among inmates.
"We will make a determination whether to begin reposting the daily COVID dashboard over the next few weeks, if the current statewide surge is sustained," Heath said.
Another state website, run by the Department of Public Health, no longer links to a listing of the number of COVID cases among residents and staffers of nursing homes and other long-term care residences by facility. The data grid, launched early in the pandemic, gave a running total of long-term care cases and deaths from the virus.
Asked about the lack of online information, public health officials directed a reporter to another agency, the Department of Community Health, which explained that COVID information on nursing homes could be found on a federal health website. But locating and navigating that link can be difficult.
"Residents and families cannot easily find this information," said Melanie McNeil, the state's long-term care ombudsman. "It used to be easily accessible."
Georgia gives updates on overall numbers of COVID cases, hospitalizations and deaths in the state five days a week but has recently stopped its weekend COVID reporting.
Other states also have cut back their public case reporting, despite the nation being engulfed in a fourth, delta-driven COVID surge.
Florida had issued daily reports on cases, deaths and hospitalizations until the rate of positive test results dropped in June. Even when caseloads soared in July and August, the state stuck with weekly reporting.
Florida has been accused of being less than transparent with COVID health data. Newspapers have sued or threatened to sue the state several times for medical examiner reports, long-term care data, prison data and weekly COVID reports the state received from the White House.
Florida Agriculture Commissioner Nikki Fried, a Democrat running for governor in 2022, has repeatedly questioned Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis' decision to delay the release of public data on COVID cases and has called for restoring daily reporting of COVID data.
Nebraska discontinued its daily COVID dashboard June 30, then recently resumed reporting, but only weekly. Iowa also reports weekly; Michigan, three days a week.
Public health experts said full information is vital for a public dealing with an emergency such as the pandemic — similar to the government reports needed during a hurricane.
"All the public health things we do are dependent on trust and transparency," Benjamin said.
A government, when removing public data, should provide a link redirecting people to where they can get that data, he said. And if a state doesn't have enough staff members to provide regular data, he said, that argues for investment in staff and technology.
People in prisons and long-term care facilities, living in close quarters indoors, are especially vulnerable to infectious diseases such as COVID.
"They are usually hotbeds of disease," said Amber Schmidtke, a microbiologist who tracks COVID in Georgia. Family members "want to know what's going on in there."
Prison data has been removed or reduced in several states, according to the UCLA School of Law's COVID Behind Bars Data Project, which tracks the spread of COVID in prisons, jails and detention facilities.
The group said Alaska provides only monthly updates on COVID cases in such facilities, while Florida stopped reporting new data in June.
When Georgia stopped reporting on COVID in prisons, the project found, only 24% of employees reported being vaccinated. Prison workers can spread the virus inside the facilities and then in their homes and the community.
The group reports that at least 93 incarcerated people and four staffers have died of COVID in Georgia and that the state has the second-highest case fatality rate, or percentage of those with reported infections who die, among all state and federal prison systems.
"Right now, if there was a massive outbreak in prisons, there would be no way to know it," said Hope Johnson of the COVID Behind Bars Data Project.
Recent Facebook posts point to cases at Smith State Prison in southeastern Georgia.
Heath, when asked about cases there, said Tuesday that the prison has 19 active COVID cases and its transitional center has one.
Mayor Bernie Weaver of Glennville, the Tattnall County town where the prison is located, said he hasn't been told about recent COVID cases at the prison. But he noted that Tattnall itself has had a spike in cases. The county has a 26% vaccination rate, among the lowest in the state.
KHN senior correspondent Phil Galewitz contributed to this report.
For years, Ely Bair dealt with migraine headaches, jaw pain and high blood pressure, until a dentist recommended surgery to realign his jaw to get to the root of his health problems.
Do you have an exorbitant or baffling medical bill? Join the KHN and NPR 'Bill of the Month' Club and tell us about your experience. We'll feature a new one each month.
The fix would involve two surgeries over a couple of years and wearing braces on his teeth before and in between the procedures.
Bair had the first surgery, on his upper jaw, in 2018 at Swedish Medical Center, First Hill Campus in Seattle. The surgery was covered by his Premera Blue Cross plan, and Bair's out-of-pocket hospital expense was $3,000.
He changed jobs in 2019 but still had Premera health insurance. In 2020, he had the planned surgery on his lower jaw at the same hospital where he'd been treated the first time. The surgery went well, and he spent one night in the hospital before being discharged. He was healing well and beginning to see the benefits of the surgeries.
Then the bill arrived.
The Patient: Ely Bair, 35, a quality assurance analyst. He has a Premera Blue Cross health plan through his job at a biotech firm in Seattle.
Total Bill: Swedish Medical Center billed Bair $27,119 for the second surgery in July 2020. This was Bair's share of the negotiated rate, after the hospital took $14,310 off the charge. His insurer paid $5,000. Bair owed additional bills to the surgeon and the anesthesiologist.
Service Provider:Swedish First Hill Campus in Seattle, part of the largest nonprofit health system in the Seattle area, which is affiliated with Providence, a major Catholic healthcare network.
What Gives: Bair hit two maddening health system pitfalls here: He expected his new plan to behave like his previous one from the same insurer — and he expected his mouth to be treated like the rest of his body. Neither commonsense notion appears true in America's health system.
Typically, large companies, such as Bair's employers, "self insure," meaning they pay their workers' health costs but use insurance companies to maintain provider networks and handle claims. When Bair changed jobs, his insurance coverage changed even though both employers used Premera. Bair paid $3,000 for his first surgery because that was the out-of-pocket maximum under his plan from his previous employer, which covered oral and maxillofacial surgery.
Bair expected that using the same hospital and the same insurance carrier would mean his costs would be similar for part two of his treatment. Bair's oral and maxillofacial surgeon — the same doctor who performed the first procedure — checked Bair's benefits through his insurer's online portal and thought it would be covered. Premera also sent his doctor confirmation agreeing that the second procedure was medically necessary.
About three months after the surgery, Bair was shocked to get the large hospital bill — about $24,000 higher than he expected.
When he called Premera, he learned his new plan had a $5,000 lifetime limit on coverage for the reconstructive jaw procedure known as orthognathic surgery, which is sometimes regarded as a dental rather than a medical intervention. His doctor said that information was not noted in Bair's benefits when the practice reviewed them through an online portal. Premera told Bair he should have known about the limit because it was listed in his detailed, hard-copy, 86-page member-benefit booklet.
The Affordable Care Act in 2014 eliminated lifetime and annual caps on insurance coverage for categories of treatment such as prescription drugs, laboratory services and mental healthcare. While the ACA lists broad categories about what is considered an "essential health benefit," each state decides which services are included in each category and the scope or duration that must be offered. Bariatric surgery, physical therapy and abortion are examples of care for which insurance coverage can vary a lot by state under this ACA provision. Orthognathic surgery is not considered an essential health benefit in Washington. It is sometimes performed for cosmetic purposes only. Also, plans sometimes regard the surgery as part of orthodontia — which frequently involves limits on coverage. But for Bair, it was a clear medical necessity.
Without an ACA requirement for orthognathic surgery, Premera and self-insured plans are allowed to provide various levels of benefits and can impose annual and lifetime caps.
Premera spokesperson Courtney Wallace said Bair transferred from a plan with his former company that did not have a lifetime maximum to a plan with a $5,000 lifetime maximum benefit.
Martine Brousse, a patient advocate and owner of AdvimedPro, which helps patients with healthcare billing disputes, said Bair acted appropriately by using a doctor and hospital in his health plan's network and checking with his doctor about his insurance coverage.
She said Swedish should have told him before the surgery — which was planned weeks ahead of time — how much he would have to pay. "That is a failure on part of the hospital," she said.
Sabrina Corlette, co-director of the Georgetown University Center on Health Insurance Reforms, said it doesn't seem fair that his first employer covered the cost of his surgery but the second employer did not. She said the $27,000 bill seemed excessive and the $5,000 lifetime limit very low. "Essential health benefits serve a really important function, and when there are gaps or holes people can really get hurt," she said.
Resolution: Bair's doctor told him the hospital charge was at least three times the amount Swedish charges uninsured patients for the same surgery. Bair said Swedish offered to let him pay the bill over two years but did not make any other concessions.
Swedish would not say why it did not verify Bair's insurance benefits before the surgery or let him know he would face an enormous bill even though he was insured.
"Hospital pricing is complex and nuanced," Swedish officials said in a statement. Bair's bill "was inclusive of all the care he received, which included specialized services and expertise, equipment and the operating room time. He had a jaw procedure that had a maximum benefit from his insurer of $5,000. He was billed the balance not covered by his insurer."
The hospital system said it also has an online tool that generates estimates tailored to patients' coverage and choice of hospital.
The online tool did not come up with anything on the term "orthognathic surgery," however.
Bair appealed three times to Premera to reconsider its decision to cover only $5,000 of the cost of his procedure. But the insurer rejected each one saying he had exhausted his lifetime orthognathic surgery benefit and he was responsible for any additional care. When Swedish wouldn't lower his cost, he filed a complaint in December 2020 with the state attorney general's office.
A few months later, Swedish reduced Bair's bill from over $27,000 to $7,164.
"Because neither the patient nor his provider was aware of this limitation in coverage prior to the procedure, the surgeon advocated on the patient's behalf to get the bill lowered," the hospital told KHN in a statement.
Bair agreed to pay the lower amount. "The bill is at least a much more manageable number than the financial ruin $27,000 would have been," he said. "I am just looking forward to closing this chapter and moving on."
His surgeon, who helped him fight the hospital bill and limited insurance coverage, reduced his bill to $5,000 from $10,000, Bair said.
Bair said his employer, Adaptive Biotechnologies, is looking into eliminating its $5,000 lifetime limit for the procedure when it is medically necessary.
Since the surgery, Bair said he gets far fewer migraine headaches and his high blood pressure has been reduced. "I feel way more energized," he said.
The Takeaway: When facing a planned surgery, talk to your hospital, doctor and insurer about how much of the bill you will be responsible for — and get it in writing before any procedure.
"In theory, you should be able to rely on your provider to confirm your coverage but, in practice, it is in your best interest to call your insurer yourself," Corlette said.
Even though the ACA eliminated lifetime and annual caps on coverage, that applies only to services deemed essential in a patient's state. Be aware that certain surgeries — like jaw surgery — lie in a gray area; insurers might not consider them a necessary medical intervention or even a medical procedure at all. Corlette said health plans should notify patients when they are closing in on lifetime or annual limits, but that doesn't always happen.
Also, be aware that even though your insurance carrier may stay the same after switching jobs, your benefits could be quite different.
Kudos to Bair for being a proactive patient and appealing to the state attorney general — which got him a positive result.
Stephanie O'Neill contributed the audio profile with this report.
Bill of the Month is a crowdsourced investigation by KHN and NPR that dissects and explains medical bills. Do you have an interesting medical bill you want to share with us? Tell us about it!
As classes get underway this week and next, Montana school and county health officials are grappling with how a new state law that bans vaccine discrimination should apply to quarantine orders for students and staffers exposed to COVID-19.
It's the latest fallout from the law that says businesses and governmental entities can't treat people differently based on vaccination status. The law makes Montana the only state that prohibits both public and private employers — including hospitals — from requiring workers to get vaccinated against COVID.
Some state and county officials also interpret the law to mean that unvaccinated people can't be ordered to quarantine over a COVID exposure unless vaccinated people are, too. That interpretation goes against the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's recommendations for only unvaccinated people to quarantine in the event of a COVID exposure.
The state law worries school officials who had planned to lean on the CDC guidelines to keep closures and disruptions to a minimum this fall after last school year's fluctuating in-person, remote and hybrid classes.
Micah Hill, superintendent of Kalispell Public Schools, said he received guidance from Republican Gov. Greg Gianforte's office that confirmed the law means quarantine protocols must be the same for the vaccinated and unvaccinated alike.
Hill described that interpretation as a "game changer" for schools as the highly transmissible delta variant of the virus races through the state. Kalispell's Flathead County has among the highest number of active COVID cases with just 41% of the eligible population fully vaccinated. Only 1 in 4 children eligible for a COVID vaccine are vaccinated, according to county health officials. Hill estimates about two-thirds of his staff are vaccinated.
"If everybody is getting quarantined with a more contagious variant, you could see a lot of people out of school, staff and students, and [that] really threatens the ability of schools to stay open," Hill said.
As a result of the law, some Montana county health and school officials have decided to drop quarantine orders. Instead, they are making quarantining an option for exposed students.
But at least one county has decided to defy the law. The Missoula City-County Board of Health unanimously voted this week for a policy requiring the unvaccinated to quarantine, but not the vaccinated. The board held the vote after being advised by a representative from the county attorney's office that the policy could lead to a lawsuit.
The stance by Missoula health officials is the latest in a string of defiant acts by schools and local governments against state laws and policies that ban COVID-prevention measures. In Florida, for example, a handful of counties have said they will require students to wear masks despite Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis' ban on mask mandates.
Anna Conley, Missoula's chief civil deputy county attorney, said that although she can't promise the county will be successful in court, the county might have a good argument to overturn the state law if it winds up being litigated. The law may conflict with other state health laws that require health boards and health officers to prevent the spread of infectious diseases, she said.
Montana legislators passed House Bill 702 this spring amid a backlash against COVID-prevention protocols such as a mask mandate under former Democratic Gov. Steve Bullock, and after a Great Falls hospital announced plans to require its employees to get vaccinated against COVID.
"Your healthcare decisions are private; they are protected by the constitution of the state of Montana," said bill sponsor state Rep. Jennifer Carlson (R-Manhattan) during the legislative session. "Your privacy is protected, and your religious rights are protected."
Brooke Stroyke, a spokesperson for Gianforte, said it's up to county officials to interpret how HB 702 affects quarantine orders in schools. However, an adviser in the governor's office has instructed districts that the law presents an all-or-none option for county health departments when it comes to quarantine orders.
"HB 702 would allow for quarantine protocols as long as they are applied to everyone equally and are not based on COVID vaccination status," Gianforte education and workforce policy adviser Dylan Klapmeier wrote in an email.
Lance Melton, CEO of the Montana School Boards Association, said that interpretation erases the advantage vaccines could provide in schools, where vaccinated teachers and students 12 and older would not have to quarantine following an exposure under CDC guidance.
Aside from Missoula, many county health departments are still deciding what to do. Gallatin and Lewis and Clark counties both say they will drop quarantine orders, making it optional for people to follow CDC guidance.
Flathead County is leaning toward the same approach. Flathead County Health Officer Joe Russell said that would allow vaccinated students, teachers and county residents to return to school and work as long as they aren't showing COVID symptoms. Russell said the county can still order COVID-positive people to isolate.
"I don't think it's fair to punish someone that's fully vaccinated and tell them that they have to … stay home for eight to 10 days. How fair is that?" Russell said.
That means relying on unvaccinated people to do the right thing and stay home after they've been identified as a close contact.
The prospect terrifies Rebecca Miller, who has two children in the Bigfork School District in Flathead County, where masks won't be required in schools. Miller doesn't think parents who are desperate to keep their kids in school so they can keep working will follow the Flathead City-County Health Department's advice.
"Yeah, I think they're going to send them to school," she said.
Spurred by decades of complaints about the high cost of hearing aids, Congress passed a law in 2017 to allow over-the-counter sales, with hopes it would boost competition and lower prices.
Four years later, federal regulators have yet to issue rules to implement the law. But changes in the industry are offering consumers relief.
In August 2017, President Donald Trump signed the legislation that called for the Food and Drug Administration to issue regulations by 2020 for hearing aids that could be sold in stores without a prescription or a visit to an audiologist or other hearing specialist. That hasn't happened yet, and President Joe Biden last month ordered the FDA to produce those rules for over-the-counter (OTC) purchases by mid-November. That means it will likely take at least until next summer for consumers to feel the direct effects of the law.
Despite the delay, consumers' options have expanded with more hearing devices entering the market, alternative ways to get them and lower prices, particularly for the largest segment of the population with impaired hearing — those with mild to moderate hearing loss, for whom the law was intended.
Leading consumer brands Apple and Bose are offering products and several smaller companies sell aids directly to consumers, providing hearing tests and customer service online from audiologists and other hearing specialists. Even major retailers offer hearing aids directly to consumers and provide audiology services online: Walgreens stores in five Southern and Western states sell what the chain calls "FDA-registered" Lexie hearing aids for $799 a pair — far less than half the price of typical devices.
Nationally, personal sound amplification products, or PSAPs, that are smaller and customizable are now available in stores and online. These devices, which look like hearing aids and sell for a fraction of the price, amplify sounds, but some do not address other components of hearing loss, such as distortion.
"There are many more options than there were in 2017 when Trump signed the Hearing Aid Act into law," said Nancy Williams, president of Auditory Insight, a hearing industry consulting firm in New Haven, Connecticut. "In a sense, you can say the OTC revolution is happening without the FDA, but the difficulty is it is happening more slowly than if the FDA issued its rules on time."
The price for a pair of standard hearing aids typically ranges from $2,000 to $8,000, depending on the technology. That price includes the professional fitting fees and follow-up visits. The hearing aid industry has remained largely insulated from price competition because of consolidation among manufacturers, widespread state licensing laws that mandate sales through audiologists or other hearing professionals, and the acquisition of hearing professionals' practices by device makers.
The federal law creates a category of hearing aids that would legally bypass state dispensing laws and enable consumers to buy aids in stores without consulting a hearing aid professional. Users would be expected to program the devices through a smartphone, and companies could offer service via phone or internet.
With an increasing number of hearing aids and PSAPs being sold directly to consumers, advocates are eager for the FDA rules to come out, because they worry about the confusion caused by the array of choices — with none having the FDA's full seal of approval.
"The FDA delaying regulations has done more harm than good, because the direct-to-consumer market is filling the void and people are doing what they want, and we don't know the quality of these devices," said Barbara Kelley, executive director of the Hearing Loss Association of America, a consumer advocacy group.
The law, sponsored by Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.), gave the FDA until August 2020 to issue regulations. Last year, after missing that deadline, FDA officials said the COVID-19 pandemic had delayed the rule-making process.
Many in the hearing aid industry are concerned about the unchecked competition likely to come with allowing consumers to buy aids on their own without an evaluation by a hearing specialist.
Brandon Sawalich, CEO of Starkey, the largest U.S.-based hearing aid company, said consumers need expert assistance to test their hearing, buy an appropriate aid, properly fit it and fine-tune its settings.
"It's not just picking up something off the shelf at your local drugstore or ordering something online and putting it in your ear and your life is going to be reconnected and you are going to hear perfectly again," he said on a recent podcast. "It doesn't work that way, and it's not that easy."
However, by avoiding professional help, more Americans likely can get hearing assistance. "The OTC and direct-to-consumer options open up avenues for those who have no other path to get hearing aids," said Hope Lanter, a Charlotte, North Carolina, audiologist with Hear.com, a Netherlands-based online hearing aid retailer.
She expects that after the FDA issues its rules many hearing aid manufacturers will develop lower-cost, over-the-counter devices that can be obtained without an audiologist's evaluation. She said consumers with modest hearing loss may start out with those types of aids, but later, if their hearing worsens, shift to more expensive devices that require assistance from hearing aid professionals.
"In my view, there is enough pie for everyone," Lanter said, noting that millions of people with hearing loss are not getting any help today. More than 37 million American adults have trouble hearing, including nearly half of people over age 60. Only 1 in 4 adults who could benefit from a hearing aid have ever used one, federal health officials estimate.
Unlike most consumer electronics, hearing aids have remained expensive for decades, generating consumer complaints.
The price is concerning because Medicare and many insurers don't cover hearing aids, though most private Medicare Advantage plans do. Only about half of state Medicaid programs cover the devices, but benefits in those states vary widely, according to data from KFF.
Industry experts predict new over-the-counter hearing aids will be priced at less than $1,000 a pair — about 25% lower than low-cost retailer Costco sells its Kirkland aids, dispensed through a hearing aid professional.
Without federal rules in place, manufacturers have largely waited to develop devices for the OTC market.
Bose chose a different path. This spring it began selling its hearing aids, which can be purchased online without a doctor visit, hearing test or prescription. Bose gained FDA clearance in 2018 after providing data showing the effectiveness of its self-fitting aids was comparable to that of similar devices fitted by a hearing professional. The Bose aids sell for $849 a pair.
Meanwhile, Apple last year integrated hearing assistance into its popular Air Pods Pro earbuds, which can be customized using settings on an iPhone. Apple is not marketing the free benefit as a hearing aid but instead as similar to a PSAP that amplifies sound to help hearing.
Several companies such as Eargo, Lively and Lexie allow consumers to buy aids online and get help from specialists to set them up remotely. As long as companies have generous return policies that enable people to try a couple of aids to see which works best, the proliferation of online options selling high-quality aids is good news for consumers, said Williams, the Connecticut hearing consultant.
Lanter said the stigma around hearing aids will be reduced as people obtain them more easily. She predicted consumers will someday buy hearing aids much as they can buy inexpensive reading eyeglasses at the drugstore today with the option to get a prescription for higher-quality glasses or ones with a more precise fit.
Michelle Arnold, an audiologist and assistant professor at the University of South Florida, said there is no evidence consumers will be harmed buying a hearing aid without seeing an audiologist, and the benefits of getting some improvement in their hearing outweigh any risks. "Will people get the maximum benefit? Maybe not, but it's better than nothing," she said.
After Russell Jordan sent a stool sample through the mail to the microbiome company Viome, his idea of what he should eat shifted. The gym owner in Sacramento, California, had always consumed large quantities of leafy greens. But the results from the test — which sequenced and analyzed the microbes in a pea-sized stool sample — recommended he steer clear of spinach, kale and broccoli.
"Things I've been eating for the better part of 30 years," said Jordan, 31. "And it worked." Soon, his mild indigestion subsided. He recommended the product to his girlfriend.
She took the test in late February, when the company — which sells its "Gut Intelligence" test for $129 and a more extensive "Health Intelligence" test, which requires a blood sample, for $199 — began experiencing hiccups. Viome had promised results within four weeks once the sample arrived at a testing facility, but Jordan said his girlfriend has been waiting more than five months and has submitted fresh blood and stool samples — twice.
Other Viome customers have flocked to social media to complain about similar problems: stool samples lost in the mail, months-long waits with no communication from the company, samples being rejected because of shipping or lab processing snafus. (I, too, have a stool sample lost in transit, which I mailed after a first vial was rejected because it "leaked.") The company's CEO, Naveen Jain, took to Facebook to apologize in late July.
Viome's troubles provide a cautionary tale for consumers in the wild west of microbiome startups, which have been alternately hailed for health breakthroughs and indicted for fraud.
The nascent industry offers individualized diet regimens based on analyzing gut bacteria — collectively known as the gut microbiome. Consumers pay hundreds of dollars for tests not covered by insurance, hoping to get answers to health problems ranging from irritable bowel syndrome to obesity.
Venture capitalists pumped $1 billion into these kinds of startups from 2015 to 2020, according to Crunchbase, buoyed by promising research and consumers' embrace of at-home testing. PitchBookhas identified more than a dozen direct-to-consumer gut health providers.
But not all the startups are equal. Some are supported by peer-reviewed studies. Others are peddling murky science — and not just because poop samples are getting lost in the mail.
"A lot of companies are interested in the space, but they don't have the research to show that it's actually working," said Christopher Lynch, acting director of the National Institutes of Health Office of Nutrition. "And the research is really expensive."
With nearly $160 million in government funding, the NIH Common Fund's Nutrition for Precision Health research program, expected to launch by early next year, seeks to enroll 1 million people to study the interactions among diet, the microbiome, genes, metabolism and other factors.
The gut microbiome is a complex community of trillions of bacteria. Research over the past 15 years has determined that these microbes, both good and bad, are an integral part of human biology, and that altering a person's gut microbes can fundamentally change their metabolism, immune function — and, potentially, cure diseases, explained Justin Sonnenburg, a microbiology and immunology associate professor at Stanford University.
Metagenomic sequencing, which identifies the unique set of bugs in someone's gut (similar to what 23andMe does with its saliva test), has also improved dramatically, making the process cheaper for companies to reproduce.
"It's seen as one of the exciting areas of precision health," said Sonnenburg, who recently co-authored a study that found a fermented food diet increases microbiome diversity — which is considered positive — and reduces markers of inflammation. That includes foods like yogurt, kefir and kimchi.
"The difficulty for the consumer is to differentiate which of these companies is based on solid science versus over-reaching the current limits of the field," he added via email. "And for those companies based on solid science, what are the limits of what they should be recommending?"
San Francisco-based uBiome, founded in 2012, was one of the first to offer fecal sample testing.
But as uBiome began marketing its tests as "clinical" — and seeking reimbursement from insurers for up to nearly $3,000 — its business tactics came under scrutiny. The company was raided by the FBI and later filed for bankruptcy. Earlier this year, its co-founders were indicted for defrauding insurers into paying for tests that "were not validated and not medically necessary" in order to please investors, the Department of Justice alleges.
But for Tim Spector, a professor of genetic epidemiology at King's College London and co-founder of the startup Zoe, being associated with uBiome is insulting.
Zoe has spent more than two years conducting trials, which have included dietary assessments, standardized meals, testing glycemic responses and gut microbiome profiling on thousands of participants. In January, the findings were published in Nature Medicine.
The company offers a $354 test that requires a stool sample, a completed questionnaire, and then a blood sample after eating muffins designed to test blood fat and sugar levels. Customers can also opt in to a two-week, continuous glucose monitoring test.
The results are run through the company's algorithm to create a customized library of foods and meals — and how customers are likely to respond to those foods.
Screenshots from Zoe's app show how my gut health and blood sugar and fat levels may react to eating my breakfast one day, a Nature's Bakery Fig Bar. The 1-to-100 scale is based on the company's analysis of my stool and blood tests. (Hannah Norman / KHN)
DayTwo, a Walnut Creek, California, company that recently raised $37 million to expand its precision nutrition program, focuses on people with prediabetes or diabetes. It sells to large employers — and, soon, to health insurance plans — rather than directly to consumers, charging "a few thousand dollars" per person, said Dr. Jan Berger, chief clinical strategist.
Based on a decade of research, DayTwo has worked with nearly 75,000 people. It sends participants a testing kit and survey, and arranges for them to chat with a dietitian while their stool sample is processing. Then, when the results come in, it makes recommendations, Berger said.
"I can still eat two scoops of ice cream, but I need to add walnuts in it to regulate my blood sugar," she offered as an example.
Viome says it has tested more than 200,000 customers and has published its methodology for analyzing stool samples, which is different from other gut health companies. But the paper does not address Viome's larger claims of connecting the microbiome to dietary advice, and researcher Elisabeth Bik called the claims "far-fetched" in a 2019 review of the preprint version.
Viome makes additional money by selling supplements, probiotics and prebiotics based on consumers' test results. It has also rebranded as Viome Life Sciences, expanding into precision diagnostics and therapeutics, such as saliva tests to detect throat cancer. Meanwhile, its gut health program has been mired in logistical missteps.
One customer who posted on Facebook tracked her sample through the U.S. Postal Service as it boomeranged between Los Alamos, New Mexico, and Bothell, Washington, where it was supposed to be picked up. Another fought for a refund after waiting six weeks to hear her sample was not viable and learning a second attempt had expired after spending too long in transit. The company's expected lab processing time jumped from four weeks in February, when Jordan said his girlfriend took her first test, to six in summer. (Three weeks after I mailed my second sample in July, it still hadn't made it to the lab, so I called it quits and asked for a refund.)
In CEO Jain's July apology posted to the private Facebook group for Viome users, he said the company recently moved its lab from New Mexico to Washington state, close to its headquarters, which prompted a mail-forwarding fiasco. It bought new robotics that "refused to cooperate," he wrote. "Many things didn't go as planned during the move."
Spokesperson Kendall Donohue said Viome has been working on the problems but laid much of the blame on the Postal Service.
She also said Viome has been notifying customers — even though many (including myself) had not been contacted.
It is Viome's "top priority right now to ensure complete customer satisfaction, but unfortunately USPS needs to sort the issue internally for further action to be taken," she said.
She also offered me a free "Health Intelligence" test. I declined.