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The Consumer Product Safety Commission, responsible for tracking and issuing recalls of dangerous products sold in the U.S., began discreetly pressuring hospital executives this year to share personally identifiable health data with a private contractor. But hospital lawyers and other industry experts have questioned the agency’s authority to collect, its ability to safeguard such a swath of sensitive information, and whether it has followed the legal process to overhaul its surveillance system.

After Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News asked the CPSC about the new system, the the program on July 21. Left unmentioned, however, is the alarm it has raised among hospital executives, as well as the nature and extent of the agency’s data demands.

In a stark departure from its product-focused mission, the agency’s goal is to obtain millions of Americans’ medical records from emergency room visits for most injuries, from a broken bone to a childhood vaccine reaction or even a suicide attempt, according to documents and emails obtained by Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News, as well as interviews with five people involved or familiar with the discussions.

A CPSC official also insisted in the emails that the institutions provide all ER patients’ identifiable information — such as names, addresses, diagnoses, and other personal details — to the contractor, Konza Health, for analysis. In correspondence with , Konza representatives described participation as “mandatory” or “required.”

As a condition of viewing the correspondence, Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News agreed not to republish some of the emails it obtained.

The CPSC wants at least 100 hospitals to start sending detailed medical records by the end of this year, according to an .

“The whole thing is troubling,” said Sharona Hoffman, a professor of health law at Case Western Reserve University who noted that giving a private entity access to a sweeping collection of data will introduce risks to patient privacy. “If this company really is collecting identifiable information, that is worrisome for patients.”

The new project was launched amid upheaval at the traditionally independent agency, which is without a governing board since President Donald Trump fired the CPSC’s three Democratic board members. Nearly 1 in 5 career staffers left the CPSC in the first 16 months of the new administration, according to a Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News analysis of federal workforce data.

The initiative also comes as the Trump administration has sought unprecedented access to millions of Americans’ medical records, with the Office of Personnel Management requesting federal workers’ sensitive health information and Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. using a private organization to collect more medical records for his studies on vaccines and autism.

Steve Roney, CPSC spokesperson, said in an emailed statement on July 10 that the CPSC is “modernizing” its surveillance system. Asked whether the CPSC will file complaints against hospitals that do not participate, he said only that while the previous system “operated as a voluntary program, the ability of hospitals to opt out limited the sample size and usefulness of the data.”

Roney also acknowledged that the agency had not yet notified the public, as “required by law.”

Federal law requires the agency to provide notice and a public comment period before requesting information from 10 or more entities, a step it has not taken despite plans for 100 hospitals to join the surveillance system. Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News independently confirmed with over a dozen hospitals that they had been approached.

Federal public health authorities that private health data be reported. But CPSC officials have that if hospitals decline to share data with the new surveillance system, they could be subject to strict penalties from a data-sharing regulation known as “information blocking.”

Yet some hospital executives say they are reluctant to share patients’ sensitive data because they’re concerned about a different violation — that of .

AI Takes Over

Dozens of ERs across the country already participate in the CPSC’s voluntary National Electronic Injury Surveillance System, or NEISS, through which trained hospital workers report injuries involving consumer products, almost always stripped of patients’ identifiable information. The system helps the CPSC identify products, such as baby loungers, toys, and household appliances, with a pattern of injuring consumers.

The new injury surveillance program goes much further.

At a toy industry trade event in February, acting CPSC Chairman Peter Feldman said the agency is “investing in AI-enabled workflows that improve the quality and quantity of injury surveillance data, while also building up digital infrastructure to handle a massive new volume of electronic health records.”

Konza Health, a Kansas-based organization that runs the state’s health data exchange, will automatically pull and analyze medical records of all patient visits from ERs nationwide. Konza won a worth up to $15.9 million with the CPSC last fall.

In email correspondence with hospital technology officials, Konza Health President and CEO Laura McCrary also has described ERs’ participation as “required,” stipulating that they share patients’ records with identifying information.

McCrary told Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News by email that the company is not using AI to process the records it receives, saying instead that Konza will use “advanced analytic parsing and filtering capabilities.” Roney, the CPSC spokesperson, did not answer questions about the .

For years, agency officials moving away from human contractors and automating NEISS to save time and money.

But without workers on-site, hospital staffers may no longer receive training to determine what clinical information is important to include for the CPSC. In short, the changes could dilute the quality of the product safety data the agency collects.

“They want to suck in as much data as possible, but I’m not sure how thoughtful they’re being about what is collected and what is actually needed by the agency,” said former CPSC chair Alexander Hoehn-Saric, one of the Democratic appointees Trump fired last year.

Wanted: Injuries From Vaccines and Stingrays

The CPSC’s new data collection appears to contradict its own 214-page , which instructs hospitals not to include identifiable information “such as names, birthdates, or addresses” when reporting cases.

The agency is supposed to receive patients’ identifying information only when needed for follow-up investigations, which happens in fewer than 1% of reported cases, according to the manual.

The CPSC has also historically limited the records it collects to minimize privacy violations in case of a data breach.

The risk is not hypothetical: From 2017 to 2019, the agency improperly released personal health information of around 30,000 people, a disclosure that a top Republican at the time

Konza, however, will receive even more sensitive information on many more people. McCrary said in a statement that Konza will remove patients’ names, addresses, and medical information “not needed by CPSC” before sharing records with the agency.

Leaving a private organization to collect sensitive information introduces risks, including that it could be stolen or used for business purposes, said Hoffman, the Case Western professor.

“Very often, they will use information for marketing because now they’re going to know what conditions people have,” she said.

Roney said that its contract with Konza, which has not been made public, prohibits the organization from selling or marketing the data it collects.

The CPSC’s manual also identifies types of ER visits that should not be reported to the CPSC, which has jurisdiction over only certain consumer products. Excluded injuries are those caused by food, illegal drugs, medical devices, alcohol, or plants, as well as injuries that did not involve consumer products — such as a cut from a rock or broken bones from a fall on the ground — and suicide attempts by adults.

But in a to one hospital and reviewed by Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News, Konza set no such limits on the information it would gather from ER records and said it would hold on to patient health information for at least 30 days.

In an email sent to hospital technology officials, McCrary wrote that Konza would provide the CPSC with records when a patient is treated in the ER for any of more than 10,000 conditions. The expansive list of diagnostic codes Konza provided in the email includes injuries that do not involve consumer products.

Child injuries resulting from “poisoning by” vaccines or contact with stingrays, neither of which is regulated by the CPSC, are included in the list.

A limited number of hospitals once shared deidentified data on all injuries — regardless of product involvement — through the NEISS using the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s injury-tracking program. But the CDC halted that data collection, after funding and staffing were cut last year, and has not restarted it.

Pressure on Hospitals

CPSC Chief Data Officer Elizabeth Puchek, who joined the agency late last year after engineering U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services’ data system, has told hospitals in emails that they must seek an exemption from the program if they decline to share patients’ emergency room records with Konza.

The CPSC’s targeted outreach has included some of the nation’s largest urban and rural health systems, as well as small, publicly owned hospitals.

Staff members at Mary Greeley Medical Center in Ames, Iowa, said that Konza and federal officials told them their participation in the new program was mandatory. The hospital, which has long participated in NEISS, signed a new contract in April to share its ER records with Konza.

Yet the hospital is reevaluating its participation after being notified that the funds it received to participate in NEISS were “no longer available,” spokesperson Steve Sullivan said.

Several hospital executives, lawyers, and others have raised doubts about the CPSC’s claimed authority.

Harborview Medical Center spokesperson Susan Gregg said the Seattle hospital’s emergency room has “voluntarily submitted de-identified data for many years, but we are not obligated to report this information.”

In Boston, Mass General Brigham has declined to participate in the new program, with spokesperson Kelly Mitchell saying that “to protect patient privacy, we are unable to provide these medical records.”

Henry Ford Health in Detroit; St. Luke’s in Boise, Idaho; and Sanford Health based in Sioux Falls, South Dakota — which together handle over a million ER visits a year — are among the health systems that have been approached but not yet entered into an agreement with Konza, according to representatives. Several of the nation’s busiest hospital systems targeted for the program — including the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, Yale New Haven Hospital in Connecticut, Nationwide Children’s Hospital and the Cleveland Clinic in Ohio, and Baylor Scott & White Health in Texas — declined to answer questions about whether they’re participating.

Hoehn-Saric, the agency’s former chairman, said he was surprised that the CPSC would insist that hospitals provide identifiable records from all emergency room visits.

“This idea that they can simply demand patient information from a hospital and that the hospital would provide it — I really don’t understand the basis for that,” he said.

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Meanwhile, patients, their advocates, and clinicians say little has improved.

“It has never been this bad for patients,” said U.S. Rep. Greg Murphy (R-N.C.), a physician who co-chairs the GOP Doctors Caucus.

The overarching intent of the June 2025 pledge was to improve a controversial process called prior authorization, which regularly requires patients or someone on their medical team to seek approval from insurers before proceeding with treatment.

According to AHIP, the health insurance industry trade group, health plans have eliminated 6.5 million prior authorizations for patients — equal to an 11% reduction — since the announcement.

But critics remain skeptical. Sally Nix, a patient advocate who has a chronic disease, described the voluntary pledge as “performative.” And Murphy, who participated in the news conference with Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. announcing the pledge last year, said it has “no teeth.”

Voluntary insurer pledges rarely make things better for patients, said , a research professor at the Center on Health Insurance Reforms at Georgetown University.

“In the absence of clear rules, policies, standards, and mandates,” she said, insurance companies are “going to do what makes sense for them to do financially.”

The Department of Health and Human Services did not respond to questions for this report. It isn’t clear how, or whether, the Trump administration is holding insurers accountable.

‘Zero Faith’

Prior authorization — sometimes called preauthorization or precertification — has been around for decades. The insurance industry has long argued that the practice, which varies by company, helps control costs, reduces waste and fraud, and prevents potential harm to patients. It’s regularly invoked for a huge swath of services, ranging from low-cost urgent care to expensive cancer treatment.

“Prior authorization is a vital patient safeguard,” said Chris Bond, a spokesperson for AHIP.

The 2024 killing of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson sparked a national groundswell of anger about insurance denials, with patients and doctors becoming increasingly vocal about the tactics they say insurance companies use to boost profits at the expense of care.

Prior authorization reform is one of the rare healthcare issues Democrats and Republicans tend to agree on. On July 15, the House Ways and Means Committee unanimously that would force Medicare Advantage plans to provide to the federal government a list of all items and services that are subject to prior authorization, and to report data about denials and grievances, among other requirements.

Last year’s industry pledge was organized as a direct response to public anger, Mehmet Oz, administrator of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, said when it was announced. “There’s violence in the streets over these issues,” he said.

“Americans are upset about it,” Oz said, later adding, “I’m looking forward to seeing the results.”

Mike Gartner, founder of Health Access Innovation, an organization that helps patients overturn insurance denials, said he doubts that insurance companies are changing their policies in meaningful ways. The 11% reduction in prior authorization cited by AHIP “hides a lot of nuance,” Gartner said.

Patients who need the costliest services, such as cancer treatment, are still being disproportionately denied access to doctor-recommended care, he said.

AHIP said its data included reductions in prior authorization for medical services, not prescription medicines. The trade group didn’t provide details explaining which services have been dropped from prior authorization or how those reductions differ across individual insurers.

Last year, Oz said the federal government would be “evaluating progress” toward the pledge and “driving accountability,” and he foreshadowed “public dashboards.” But no such dashboards exist, and federal officials did not respond to questions about how they’re holding companies accountable.

Murphy, the North Carolina congressman, said he has “zero faith” in the industry policing itself.

He didn’t believe insurance companies then, he said, “and I don’t believe them now.”

‘At War’ With an Insurer

In February, days after Betsy Adler and Justin Young’s daughter Coco was born with a serious heart defect, the Stillwater, Minnesota, family received paperwork showing they were racking up out-of-network costs.

During Adler’s pregnancy, the family had switched insurers, , which is based in Minnetonka, Minnesota, and one of that initially signed the industry pledge. Adler said she’d checked with her employer’s human resources department and on Medica’s website to make sure her maternal-fetal specialists and hospital were in-network before their new health plan went into effect earlier this year.

But then, the insurance company started processing some claims as out-of-network. By mid-March, the family had accrued more than $4,000 in out-of-network charges, on top of more than $3,000 for in-network bills. And the bills kept coming.

When Adler, a psychotherapist, called to figure out what was going on, she said, an insurance company representative said she hadn’t submitted a referral from her primary care provider beforehand. Attempts to fix the problem went nowhere. At one point, Adler said, Medica required her to visit a clinic she’d never been to before to obtain a referral. But she said a Medica representative told her the referral was never received, because the insurer’s fax machine was down.

“I have a critically ill child,” Adler remembered thinking shortly after Coco was discharged from the cardiovascular intensive care unit. “I can either spend my emotional energy at war with Medica, or I can let it go and just enjoy my time with my daughter.”

Medica spokesperson Greg Bury said he wouldn’t discuss the case, citing patient privacy rules. In an emailed statement, he wrote the company is “committed to working with her to ensure she understands what is covered under her benefits and our responsibilities.”

One of six specific promises all insurers made when they signed the pledge was to honor a 90-day grace period when patients switch insurance plans, starting Jan. 1 of this year. Often called “continuity of care,” this grace period allows patients to temporarily continue receiving services and medications that were authorized under a previous insurer.

But that applies only in some circumstances, Georgetown’s Corlette said. The wording of the pledge suggests that insurance companies aren’t obligated to honor another company’s network parameters. When Adler and Young switched insurers, for example, Medica was not obligated to cover the cost of out-of-network providers as if they were in-network, even though they were in-network under the family’s old plan.

Adler and Young switched insurance companies again when Coco was a month old, to avoid accruing more out-of-network costs.

Denial After Approval

The percentages cited by AHIP don’t tell the whole story, said Nix, the patient advocate. Insurers are “not including the data for the loopholes they create,” she said.

For example, nothing in the pledge prevents insurance companies from retroactively denying payment, even when care is preapproved. “Patients are going to see a lot more retroactive denials,” said Nix, who recently had her insurer process, then later deny, a claim for injections to relieve her nerve pain.

Something similar recently happened to Jocelyn Austin, 49, of Amherst, New York. Over the course of nearly 20 years, she developed an addiction to sleeping and anxiety pills prescribed to her by a doctor. Last year, she spent weeks at an inpatient treatment center for substance abuse. Her insurer, Independent Health, had approved the admission. Austin said she has been substance-free since her discharge.

But the facility sent her a bill for more than $12,000 in December showing her insurer had not paid for the treatment she received, according to documents Austin shared with Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News. This was in addition to the $10,000 she paid at the beginning of her treatment to satisfy her out-of-network deductible. The approval letters from Independent Health had specified that “authorization is not a guarantee of claim payment.”

Frank Sava, a spokesperson for Independent Health, said a denial was issued and upheld in this case because the services provided “were inconsistent with the care that was authorized” and “the medical record did not sufficiently support what was billed.” He said those findings were reviewed and confirmed by an outside consultant.

An explanation of benefits issued by the insurer last summer indicated the “provider,” not the patient, was responsible for the cost of her treatment. And yet the treatment facility has continued to pressure her for payment, she said.

Austin, who has not paid her outstanding bill, said insurance companies “should be held accountable.”

‘Significant Work Ahead’

Another one of the six commitments insurers made last year was to adopt new technology that would standardize the electronic submission of prior authorization requests. During the news conference announcing the pledge last summer, Chris Klomp, the director of Medicare and a deputy CMS administrator, said more than 50% of prior authorizations are still paper-based and processed by phone or fax machine.

In April, AHIP related to that technology initiative, explaining that participating insurers would adopt the new standards on a rolling basis. Health insurers agreed to implement the pledge’s various commitments by predetermined deadlines, and this initiative is scheduled to be operational by Jan. 1, 2027. But eight insurers that initially signed the pledge last year didn’t sign the technology update when it was announced in April, AHIP told Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News.

Those insurers are Alignment Health Plan, EmblemHealth, HealthFirst, Independent Health, Medica, MVP Health Care, Point32Health, and SummaCare. Their beneficiaries span the country, from California to New York. None of those eight insurers agreed to interviews for this report, but most sent Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News emailed statements indicating that they remain committed to prior authorization reform.

AHIP’s approach to continuity of care “would have required the transfer of confidential member health information through a non-standardized process involving third-party participation,” wrote Jerry Slowey, a spokesperson for , which offers Medicare Advantage policies in Arizona, California, Nevada, North Carolina, and Texas. “We do not believe that level of data sharing was contemplated in the original commitment.”

Bury, the spokesperson for Medica, which covers beneficiaries in Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Dakota, and Wisconsin, said the company “supports the goal of these standardization efforts.” But the April update “raised a significant technical and operational hurdle that we are not able to commit to at this time,” he said.

Alex Gomez, a spokesperson for EmblemHealth, said in late June the company “will sign onto the commitment” after Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News posed questions about why it had not endorsed the April update.

“We anticipate more plans will be added over the coming months,” said Bond, the AHIP spokesperson. Health plans are “working continuously to implement their commitments to simplify and improve the experience.” He acknowledged that “there is still significant work ahead.”

The original pledge also included a promise that insurance companies would enhance transparency and use “clear, easy-to-understand explanations” when communicating to patients — something they were already supposed to be doing under the Affordable Care Act.

Yet companies still regularly neglect to explain why care has been denied, and their communications often contain “inconsistent and contradictory information,” said Gartner, of Health Access Innovation. He and Murphy also said they suspect insurance companies are increasingly using artificial intelligence to generate denials.

“They craft the pathways to basically deny things immediately with the hope that people will give up,” Murphy said.

The congressman said he wishes President Donald Trump would sign executive orders addressing some of these issues. “The problem is the insurance industry is the strongest lobby in this town.”

Do you have an experience with prior authorization you’d like to share?  to tell Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News your story.

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When Gov. Gavin Newsom, using his , refused to extradite a physician accused of prescribing and mailing abortion pills to a Louisiana woman, he said California would “not ever” allow “extremist politicians” to punish its doctors.

Newsom, who is considering a run for president, has long championed reproductive rights, but state lawmakers in the Democratically controlled California legislature know future governors might not have the same political beliefs.

Republican gubernatorial candidate Steve Hilton, a former Fox News host endorsed by President Donald Trump, has vowed to honor these types of extradition requests from other states if he’s elected, Louisiana “is trying to uphold what its people voted for, and California is undermining it.” His opponent, Democrat Xavier Becerra, has said he would deny the requests.

Legislation advancing in Sacramento is the latest chapter in a tit for tat that’s been happening between conservative and liberal states since 2022, when the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, ending federal legal protections for abortion.

by state Assembly member Rebecca Bauer-Kahan, which is being heard in committee, would take some decisions out of the governor’s hands, requiring governors to deny extradition requests for healthcare providers who prescribe abortion medication or administer gender-affirming care. It would also shield anyone in California who helped patients travel to California or another state to receive legal care. While opponents cast “shield laws” as an incursion on other states’ authority, supporters of the bill view it as insurance — even with Becerra leading Hilton 52% to 31%, according to by the University of California-Berkeley Institute of Government Studies.

Newsom spokesperson Marissa Saldivar said the governor doesn’t comment on pending legislation. Hilton and Becerra didn’t return calls for comment.

“Protecting providers from prosecution should not rely on shifting political winds or a single person’s decision,” said Alyssa Sherer, a nurse practitioner who spoke in support of the bill at a Senate committee hearing in June. Sherer is also the medical director at Hey Jane, a telehealth medication abortion provider. 

Thirteen states have banned abortion outright, and 28 other states ban abortion somewhere between six weeks and viability. At the same time, other states that allow abortion have enacted shield laws to protect doctors and nurses from liability when they prescribe across state lines.

People living in states with total abortion bans are increasingly getting abortion pills prescribed via telehealth, from 74,000 abortions in 2024 to 92,000 abortions in 2025, according to the Guttmacher Institute, citing numbers from its Monthly Abortion Provision Study.

Critics of shield laws say that states have a legitimate interest in enforcing their own statutes and that such laws represent an attempt by some states, like California, to nullify the legal decisions of others.

“If California says, ‘We’re not going to honor any other state’s laws. We’re going to ship abortion pills into your states. You can’t have a law that says abortion is illegal,’ I don’t know — that doesn’t seem like a workable situation,” said Greg Burt, who is vice president of the California Family Council and has spoken in opposition to shield laws at the State Capitol.

Twenty-one other states and Washington, D.C., have similar shield laws, but Arizona, California, Michigan, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania’s rely on an executive order, which could be reversed by a successor, according to the Guttmacher Institute.

Amanda Barrow, a senior staff attorney at the Center on Reproductive Health, Law, and Policy at UCLA Law, said passing extradition protections would put California on firmer footing, because an executive order “could be revoked by a governor who is anti-abortion or anti-gender-affirming-care.”

Hilton has said he would do just that if elected.

“Just as I wouldn’t want to see Louisiana coming in and undermining something that we voted for here in California,” the GOP candidate told KQED in January. 

During a , Becerra said he was strident about protecting reproductive rights as the state’s attorney general. “Absolutely no,” Becerra said of allowing California physicians to be extradited. 

This year, Hawai‘i to its existing shield laws. And Oregon , including banning law enforcement from cooperating with out-of-state or federal investigations into care that’s legal in the state.

But Republican legislators in conservative states have cast telehealth visits as an end run around their laws. And some have moved to restrict abortion pill access.

The governors of , , and have signed bills this year that criminalize the sale, purchase, or distribution of medication that induces an abortion. Those states make it a felony to provide medication abortion drugs to people who are seeking to end a pregnancy. The laws impose up to 10 years in prison with potentially tens of thousands of dollars in fines.

Mississippi amended the state’s controlled substances code to add abortion pills as a criminal category. Although the state already prohibits abortion broadly, the measure specifically addresses distribution, which could subject out-of-state providers to prosecution.

In January, Louisiana a California doctor, Remy Coeytaux, mailing abortion pills to a patient. Newsom denied the request. Likewise, New York Gov. Kathy Hochul denied Louisiana’s February 2025 extradition request for a .

Texas has taken a slightly different legal tact. Attorney General Ken Paxton, a Republican running for the U.S. Senate, obtained a default judgment of more than $100,000 against the New York doctor targeted by Louisiana, but a , citing New York’s shield law. Neither Paxton nor Louisiana Attorney General Liz Murrill responded to requests for comment. 

Fear of being charged with a crime for providing quality medical care is contributing to physicians leaving medicine, said Sacramento emergency room doctor Kamara Graham, who is vice president of the California chapter of the American College of Emergency Physicians, which is supporting the bill.

“It’s really conflicting and hard for us to weigh that concern of: Will I get extradited and charged and potentially be taken away from my family? Or do I do the right thing for my patient?” Graham said.

The availability of medication used in most abortions could soon change nationwide. Under the leadership of Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the Food and Drug Administration it is conducting a safety review of mifepristone, one of two medications in pill form that is used in most U.S. abortions. The FDA maintains the drug is safe and effective.

If the FDA were to decide that mifepristone is not safe, such a ruling would supersede state laws, even in states where abortion is legal. If mifepristone is restricted, many telehealth groups have said they would switch to using only the other medication, misoprostol.

“The elephant in the room is whether the Trump administration, particularly after the midterms, makes some kind of move to put national limits on access to abortions,” said Mary Ziegler, a law professor at UC-Davis who has written several books on reproductive health law.

“Not everything is something that the legislature can solve for,” Ziegler said, “because there’s some uncertainty about how the federal courts are going to react to all of this.”

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Recently divorced, the former stay-at-home mother had started working again in her mid-40s, taking a human resources job that paid $41,000 a year. Then, despite having insurance, she was hit with more than $8,000 in medical bills.

“I had my car and a basket of clothes,” Roberts recalled. “Medical bills were not something I could have afforded.”

Roberts sought financial assistance from CentraCare, the St. Cloud-based health system that treated her. It’s a nonprofit charity that receives millions of dollars in federal, state, and local tax breaks. In exchange, it’s obliged to offer charity care to patients who can’t afford their medical bills. But Roberts said CentraCare told her she made too much to qualify.

Roberts instead scrimped on groceries and Christmas gifts for her kids and paid off more than $6,000 over two years. Then CentraCare sued her last year because she hadn’t paid off all the debt.

“They’re supposed to be a nonprofit,” Roberts said. “It’s like, ‘Come on!’”

CentraCare earmarks a tiny fraction of its budget for helping patients with medical bills they can’t pay, but it’s not alone, a Minnesota Star Tribune-Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News investigation found.

Minnesota’s hospitals and health systems are among the least charitable in the country, the investigation found, providing less financial aid as a percentage of their operating budgets on average than hospitals in almost every other state, including Illinois, Iowa, Nevada, and Texas.

The investigation drew on a detailed review of every hospital charity care program in the state, an analysis of five years of hospital financial data, and dozens of interviews with patients, hospital executives, and state officials.

Nationally, hospitals spend an average of about 2.4% of their operating budgets on charity care, according to federal hospital data compiled by Hossein Zare, a researcher at Johns Hopkins University. Minnesota hospitals spend about a third of that, on average.

Some spend considerably less. Of Minnesota’s 123 general hospitals, 62 devoted less than 0.5% of their operating budgets to charity care from 2020 through 2024, the Star Tribune-Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News investigation found.

“The system is not working,” said Erin Hartung, director of legal services at Cancer Legal Care, a Minnesota nonprofit that helps patients with medical debt and other financial challenges. “And the burden is falling hardest on the people who are least able to bear it.”

CentraCare’s flagship St. Cloud Hospital spent less than 0.25%, according to the analysis. That works out to $25 in patient aid for every $10,000 spent on hospital operations.

Charity care will become even more vital in coming years as Minnesotans lose health coverage or can’t afford rising copays and deductibles. The state’s uninsured rate rose sharply last year, since 2017, and it’s expected to increase further as budget cuts pushed by President Donald Trump force states to pare Medicaid and other safety net programs. Charity care is also critical to many people with health insurance who can’t afford their bills.

Hospital officials say it’s unfair to expect them to solve this affordability problem when many of their facilities are financially strained. “No amount of charity care from hospitals will ever fully meet the needs of uninsured or underinsured Minnesotans. The need is simply too great,” Minnesota Hospital Association spokesperson Tim Nelson said in a statement.

But state Attorney General Keith Ellison said hospitals have a duty to boost charitable help for all needy patients in exchange for the tax breaks they receive.

“There is a benefit you get from being a nonprofit hospital in the state of Minnesota,” he said. “But do the people get the benefit?”

Several small Minnesota hospitals give financial aid to fewer than two dozen patients a year. Mahnomen Health Center, which recently converted to a rural emergency center, didn’t provide any charity care in eight years, despite serving one of Minnesota’s . Other hospitals serving large low-income populations were among those providing the least charity care, the analysis found.

Several factors help explain why Minnesota hospitals provide so little financial aid. For one, job-based insurance and an expanded Medicaid program offer broad coverage. Hospitals in states with less government assistance and more uninsured people typically spend more on charity care.

But Minnesota patients also face significant barriers accessing financial aid at many hospitals, including inconsistent eligibility standards and extensive applications, the Star Tribune-Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News investigation found.

To qualify at many hospitals, patients must submit detailed personal information, including bank statements, retirement accounts, mortgage documents, and estimates of other assets such as cars, homes, or livestock.

And because Minnesota has not standardized the criteria for charity care, patients might receive aid at one hospital but not another. The investigation found that some hospitals give free care to patients with an annual household income of $47,000, while others cap it at about $15,000.

Had Roberts driven 30 miles east to Princeton or 35 miles north to Little Falls, she would have found medical providers with more generous financial aid policies than CentraCare. But she didn’t know to look.

Roberts, now 49, has remarried and lives in a split-level home in St. Cloud decorated with inspirational plaques such as “Faith, Family, Friends.” CentraCare recently dropped the lawsuit against her, but only after she took out a loan against her retirement plan to pay off the medical debt. “It just feels very unfair,” she said.

‘We Have To Defend Being Paid’

CentraCare spokesperson Karna Fronden said medical privacy laws prevented her from discussing Roberts’ case. She also declined interview requests about the health system’s charity care spending.

In a statement, Fronden said CentraCare provides assistance in addition to charity care, such as helping enroll patients in insurance. “This helps provide broader, longer-term protection for patients,” she said.

Other hospital leaders said they serve their communities in ways besides forgiving medical bills, including training doctors and nurses and preserving money-losing services such as obstetrics and mental health care.

“Rural hospitals like ours are often portrayed as though we are sitting on piles of cash and simply choosing not to spend it on charity care. That is far from the reality,” said Robert Pastor, chief executive of Rainy Lake Medical Center in International Falls.

“We are the second- or third-largest employer in town, running on razor-thin margins while navigating escalating labor and supply costs and routine underpayment by public programs,” Pastor said. “Meanwhile, many health insurers post billions in profits.”

Hospitals typically are paid less for care provided to Medicare and Medicaid patients. More than 80% of Rainy Lake’s patients are on one of those government programs.

Minnesota hospitals collectively write off about $200 million of what’s deemed bad debt every year after trying unsuccessfully to collect unpaid bills from patients through calls, letters, and even lawsuits. By comparison, they devote about $163 million annually to charity care, state figures show. In 2024, hospitals collectively posted $2.4 billion in net income.

“I feel like I’m put in the position, being the hospital, where we have to defend being paid,” said Patti Banks, the head of Ely-Bloomenson Community Hospital and a senior Minnesota Hospital Association board member.

Some hospitals face intense financial pressures. Thirty-one have lost money on operations in four of the past eight years. HCMC in Minneapolis — the state’s largest safety net hospital, which provides the most charity care — is losing so much money that, without additional taxpayer support, .

But larger health systems such as Mayo Clinic, Essentia Health, and Sanford Health have remained financially sound. And the operating margins at most CentraCare hospitals exceeded 10% in 2024, state data shows.

Medical Debt’s High Toll

Nationwide, health care debt — much of it from hospitals — burdens an estimated 100 million people, increasing their stress and even leading to premature deaths, .

Abby Kelley-Hands, a special education coordinator in St. Paul, has a rare immune condition that causes frequent, severe allergic reactions. Her illness can be controlled only with a costly drug, which a Mayo Clinic doctor prescribed.

When Kelley-Hands briefly lost health coverage in 2021 in an insurance mix-up, she was hit with more than $20,000 in bills. And although she and her husband earned less than $100,000 a year, Kelley-Hands said Mayo denied her financial assistance because she earned too much.

“I was in tears,” Kelley-Hands said. “It was so scary and so hard. And it causes all of this additional stress, which then makes you sicker and less able to even figure things out.”

Kelley-Hands and her husband sold a car and agreed to a payment plan before Mayo would resume her treatment, she said. Her husband now bikes 5 miles to work. They have no dishwasher. And she and her husband took a honeymoon only last fall, seven years after their wedding. “We live very simply,” she said.

Mayo spokesperson Kristyn Jacobson declined to discuss Kelley-Hands’ case.

In 2024, state lawmakers from denying care to patients with outstanding debt. And in 2025, Attorney General Ellison reached an agreement with Mayo to overhaul its charity care program after an investigation found the multibillion-dollar institution was systematically discouraging patients from applying.

After the state began investigating Mayo, the system’s , topping 1.5% of operating expenses in 2024.

‘Optimized To Get Payment’

Complying with a 2023 , Minnesota hospitals now post their financial aid policies online, although several, including CCM Health in Montevideo and Northfield Hospital, did so only after being contacted by the Star Tribune or Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News.

But many hospitals make financial aid more difficult to find than information about paying bills, said Jared Walker, founder of Dollar For, a nonprofit that helps patients nationally apply for charity care.

“Hospitals have optimized to get payment,” he said. “If you want to get on a payment plan, if you want to get on a credit card, it’s so easy.”

Glacial Ridge Health System in Glenwood posts a “Bill Pay” tab at the . But it takes several clicks to find the hospital’s financial assistance plan. The information couldn’t be found on the site searching for “charity care” or “financial assistance.” The public hospital 130 miles northwest of Minneapolis devoted less than 0.7% of its operating budget to charity care from 2019 to 2024.

Patients in interviews frequently said they weren’t told about charity care.

Joe Robling, 29, was treated at St. Francis Regional Medical Center in Shakopee for a broken pelvis and fractured spine after a 2024 motorcycle accident. His mother, Janet, who helped him navigate the bills, said the hospital never informed him about financial aid.

“They didn’t offer any of that,” she said.

Robling, a construction worker in Henderson, was between jobs and uninsured. “He had zippo,” Janet Robling said. “What he had in reserves were all depleted.”

The Allina Health-affiliated hospital billed him more than $19,000, the Roblings said.

An internet ad connected the family to Dollar For, which helped Robling qualify for charity care five months after his accident.

Allina spokesperson Jennifer Steingas declined to comment on the case, citing medical privacy restrictions, but said the health system has since reached out to the family.

In another case, M Health Fairview’s University of Minnesota Medical Center didn’t offer financial aid to an unemployed and uninsured man from Idaho while he was hospitalized for two months for psychiatric care and amassed $150,000 in bills.

Attorney Margaret Henehan, who represented the man, said the hospital instead offered him a two-year payment plan at $6,500 a month. “He had no income, which he told Fairview,” Henehan said.

The man, who is not identified because of his mental health condition, eventually received charity care after his sister, a doctor, reached out to Henehan for help.

Aimee Jordan, a Fairview spokesperson, said she couldn’t comment on the case because of patient privacy laws, but she said patients who are offered payment plans can always apply for charity care, even after a hospitalization.

A Maze of Standards

State law prohibits hospitals from making “unreasonable” demands of patients when they apply for charity care. But the law sets few specific standards.

The result is a dizzying array of policies, including 11 income thresholds used by Minnesota hospitals to determine whether patients qualify for free care, the Minnesota Star-Tribune-Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News review found.

HCMC parent company in Minneapolis and Olmsted Medical Center in Rochester offer the highest threshold for free care, at — almost $48,000 a year for an individual.

Sometimes standards vary even between neighboring hospitals. Madelia Health in south-central Minnesota to patients who make less than twice the federal poverty level. About 13 miles away at Mayo’s hospital in St. James, can qualify for aid.

To determine eligibility, some Minnesota hospitals consider only income, but most demand information about patients’ bank accounts as well. More than two-thirds require even more information, including the value of retirement accounts, life insurance policies, property, and vehicles. Madelia’s “may be required to sell recreational vehicles.”

Stringent requirements ensure that limited resources go to patients who need them, said Travis Olsen, chief executive of Hendricks Community Hospital, near the South Dakota border. “We don’t feel it’s fair for someone with lower annual income but yet owns numerous acres of land, debt-free, to be able to qualify for charity care.”

In addition to copies of tax returns, W-2 forms, pay stubs, and bank statements, 53 questions about their finances. These include questions about the make, model, and value of vehicles; the current market value of farm equipment, livestock, and land; and the purchase price and square footage of homes.

Other hospital applications ask patients to detail their monthly spending on food, utilities, and other medical bills.

Olsen said community pressure is more of a deterrent to applying for aid than the application: “People are too proud to pick up an application. We all know each other.”

But Walker at Dollar For said the biggest barrier is complexity. “The drop-off rates are much higher the more questions you ask and the more documentation you have to provide,” he said.

Arleen Mullenax had a cancerous tumor removed from her neck at Mayo in Rochester. Assembling her aid application and following up with the hospital billing department amid her “cancer fog” was almost more than she could take, she said.

“I knew as a former office manager I had to stay on top of it,” she said. “But it was the most daunting thing I had to do as a patient.”

Fixing the System

Ellison and several state lawmakers say Minnesota’s hospitals should make it simpler for patients to access charity care.

They’ve called for, among other things, common eligibility standards and a standard application across hospitals. New York and Maryland already have both.

“Eliminating as many barriers as possible for people is really important,” said state Sen. Liz Boldon, who also said she hopes lawmakers can enact these standards next session.

The Minnesota Hospital Association has opposed standardizing financial assistance, saying hospital boards are in the best position to assess the need for charity care in their communities. “Adding mandates for providers across the state will not close that gap, and will only increase bureaucratic and procedural barriers to patient care,” spokesperson Nelson said.

Ellison also has pushed to require hospitals to use a process that automatically screens and qualifies low-income patients for financial aid without requiring an application.

Some hospital systems, including South Dakota-based Sanford Health, already use software that checks patients’ eligibility based on information such as their credit history, said Nick Olson, the system’s chief financial officer. At Sanford Health’s 10 hospitals in Minnesota, about a quarter of the patients who receive financial aid get it this way, he said.

Nearly all Sanford hospitals devote more than 1% of their operating expenditures to charity care — higher than most hospitals in the state.

Screening software can be costly. Several executives at small Minnesota hospitals said they can’t afford it. But there are other options. In California, Los Angeles County is developing a public system to allow hospitals to quickly assess patients’ eligibility so they don’t have to buy a system themselves.

Other states — including Texas and Nevada — have laws requiring hospitals to provide minimum amounts of charity care.

Back in St. Cloud, Roberts said that when she drives past CentraCare’s $200 million expansion at its Plaza campus in St. Cloud, she wonders why Minnesota hospitals don’t live up to higher standards themselves.

“They have all the money,” she said. “But they can’t grant a good person some grace?”

Minnesota Star Tribune staff writers Bill Lukitsch and Victor Stefanescu contributed to this report.

This article first appeared on Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and is republished here under a .

HAY SPRINGS, Neb.— The sun was just warming the horizon as Mark Pieper left his house near his cattle ranch on a crisp February morning.

It’s not unusual for the rancher to wake up early to tend to livestock, but at 5:45 a.m. this day his cattle wouldn’t come first. For the past 3½ years, three days a week, Pieper has made an early-morning commute to get dialysis at the nearest hospital.

Pieper lives outside Hay Springs, which has 599 residents, according to a sign at the edge of town. He makes sure not to forget his chocolate-brown cowboy hat before starting up his pickup truck for the half-hour drive to Chadron.

That February morning was one of his last dialysis sessions there before the hospital shuttered the service at the end of March.

“I guess I’ll just bloat up and die in a month,” Pieper remembered thinking when he learned the center was closing, eliminating the only option near his home.

He needs dialysis to survive after cancer treatment damaged his kidneys.

Pieper and 16 other patients relied on Chadron Hospital for the life-sustaining therapy that filters waste and fluid from their blood — a job their failing kidneys could no longer do. Treatment lasts about four hours.

The closure is just one example of the long decline of health care services in rural America, where people have higher rates of many chronic conditions but less access to care than elsewhere.

The Trump administration promised to address this problem, when it launched the $50 billion federal Rural Health Transformation Program in September. It may not be enough to stop the trend.

“[President Donald] Trump says he is going to help the rural health care,” Pieper said. Dialysis “is one thing that we really need here.”

Some patients have moved to live closer to care, including several nursing home residents. Their new facilities may be farther from their families.

Others are making long drives to dialysis centers. Pieper eventually found treatment in Scottsbluff, which, with about 14,000 residents, is the biggest city in the rural Panhandle region of western Nebraska. The hour-and-a-half drive will triple his time on the road to more than nine hours each week.

Jim Wright and his wife reduced their drive time — but are spending more money — by renting a small home near Rapid City, South Dakota, and living there on weekdays so he can get dialysis. Wright said he understands that rural hospitals face financial challenges.

“But we’re talking about something that’s lifesaving. It’s not a matter of, ‘Oh, I would like to be there’” getting treatment, he said. “It’s a case that if you don’t, you die.”

An Influx of Money That’s Out of Reach

Jon Reiners, CEO of the independent, nonprofit Chadron Hospital, wrestled with the decision to end dialysis services. He and several patients said that the closure was announced as the $219 million the state will receive in first-year funding from the .

But the five-year program is aimed at exploring new, creative ways to improve rural health, not to help existing services stay afloat. States can use only up to 15% of their funding to pay providers for patient care.

At least 11 states — Nebraska is not among them — have mentioned using funding for rural dialysis programs, according to a Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News review of applications. Their ideas include starting a mobile dialysis unit and helping people get treatment at home or in long-term care facilities.

Reiners said Chadron Hospital lost $1 million a year on its dialysis service due to low reimbursement rates that didn’t cover operational costs.

The facility is a critical access hospital, a designation that allows certain small, mostly rural hospitals to get increased reimbursement rates for their Medicare patients. While most of the affected patients were on Medicare, the critical access program doesn’t cover outpatient dialysis, Reiners said.

Reiners said the hospital worked for more than a year to find solutions, such as reaching out to four private companies to potentially take over the center. But he said they all passed after realizing they would lose money.

Nephrologist Mark Unruh said the dialysis closure in Chadron reflects a wider trend of staffing and funding challenges.

“You do end up in situations where you have people who are displaced like this, and it’s just sad,” said Unruh, chair of the Internal Medicine Department at the University of New Mexico.

People in rural America face significant disparities in kidney health and treatment, published in 2024 in the American Journal of Nephrology. They’re and face after diagnosis, according to data from the National Institutes of Health.

The best way to address this is to focus on prevention, Unruh said. He pointed to a that helps primary care doctors in rural and other underserved areas prevent end-stage renal failure.

Another idea, Unruh said, is boosting the rate of kidney transplantation for rural patients. He’s looking at whether it’s helpful to “fast-track” tests patients need to get approved for a transplant by scheduling all of them over a couple of days to limit travel time.

Unruh said the U.S. health system also needs to recruit more staff who can train patients and their caregivers to administer dialysis at home.

Exploring the Option of Home Dialysis

Rural dialysis patients are more likely than urban ones to get home dialysis, according to . In 2023, the rate was nearly 18% for rural patients and about 14% for urban ones.

One type of home dialysis requires surgery to get a catheter placed in the abdomen and . The other kind requires . The nearest facility to Chadron that offers training for the first option is in Scottsbluff. The nearest that offers training for the latter kind is three hours away in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Pieper said doctors told him he’s not a candidate for home dialysis or a transplant. The Panhandle has a nonprofit, rural transit system, but its schedule won’t work for Pieper. He said that leaves him with no choice but to get treatment in Scottsbluff, a 200-mile round trip.

It takes Linda Simonson even longer — more than four hours round trip — to drive her husband, Alan, from their ranch to his treatment in Scottsbluff.

Linda sat in the waiting room with a yellow legal pad during one of Alan’s final treatments in Chadron. The paper was scrawled with phone numbers of politicians to call and driving distances to dialysis centers in the region. She said facilities closer to their ranch either don’t have room for new patients or lack good spots along the route to take a driving break in bad weather.

“It’s just unreal,” she said.

She said even if Alan took a bus, she’d have to ride along to support him during the trip and his treatment.

Jim and Carol Wright, the couple staying near Rapid City on weekdays, said they can’t afford to rent a second home forever. Their weekly commute is already taking a physical and emotional toll. They said they’ll eventually have to move to a bigger city, giving up the house they love in the scenic Nebraska National Forest.

Carol said she feels for the dialysis staffers in Chadron, who are wonderful.

“It just doesn’t seem right to sacrifice one unit that’s so vital,” she said while standing next to a pile of moving boxes stacked inside their rental.

The Wrights wrote letters to politicians and hospital leaders to share their concerns and ideas for keeping the unit open, including using the federal rural health funding.

Simonson said she spoke with aides for the governor and her state representatives but none of the leaders called her back.

“It feels like they don’t know that we exist at this end of the state,” she said.

This article first appeared on Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and is republished here under a .

After his mom finally saw a specialist in Glasgow, about an hour away, she was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, Bighorn said.

Now, 16 years after his mother’s death, Bighorn has access to regular screenings for cancer and other specialty care that she didn’t have, through a health insurance program the Fort Peck Tribes created in 2016. The program, which covers most of the costs for the roughly 1,000 tribal citizens enrolled, is among a growing number of tribally sponsored health insurance programs.

Such programs vary by tribe, but they essentially screen and enroll people living within tribal boundaries in Affordable Care Act marketplace plans. They allow participating Native Americans flexibility to go to outside doctors and clinics when care through the Indian Health Service is unavailable.

“I’d be in a bind otherwise,” said Bighorn, a 65-year-old tribal game warden and member of the Dakota community.

But the Fort Peck Tribes now limit who has access to that coverage. Other tribal organizations that offer Native Americans similar coverage are struggling with rising costs, too.

The financial crunch began when congressional lawmakers allowed enhanced subsidies under the Affordable Care Act to expire on Dec. 31. Those tax credits, created under the Biden administration during the covid-19 pandemic, expanded subsidized health coverage for millions of people. By late 2025, ACA plans saw about 24 million enrollees, more than twice the number of pre-pandemic annual sign-ups. The cost of coverage shot up for most of those people as the expanded subsidies expired, and enrollment has dropped by , according to federal health officials.

The subsidies had also boosted tribal health insurance programs, like the one Bighorn is enrolled in. The programs pay the price of each person’s share of premiums after subsidies, and the coverage lowers patients’ treatment costs. Now that premium prices have ballooned, so have tribes’ costs.

Rae Jean Belgarde, who directs Fort Peck Tribes’ program, said the higher costs leave the tribes with one option at this point: “Start limiting who gets help.”

The tribes are helping people shift to other insurance options and, in some cases, find state programs to cover their premiums. Tribal leaders also sent a letter to Montana’s all-Republican congressional delegation asking them to support extending the subsidies.

“Our program is saving lives,” the letter read. Belgarde said she didn’t know whether the lawmakers responded.

Scrambling for Solutions

U.S. a temporary extension of the enhanced subsidies in January. But that measure . Lawmakers are scrambling for an alternative after President Donald Trump an extension if a bill reaches his desk. On Jan. 15, the president released that includes creating savings accounts for people to pay their health costs — an idea Senate Republicans as an alternative to the subsidies.

A.C. Locklear, CEO of the , a nonprofit that works to improve health in Native communities, said tribes are “looking at ways to cut back just as much as everyone else.”

Native Americans as a group continue to face disproportionately high rates of chronic diseases. Their median age at death is 14 years younger than that of white Americans.

“Reducing access to even just general primary care has a significant impact on those disparities,” Locklear said.

Tribal leaders have said letting the subsidies expire further undermines the federal government’s duty to ensure adequate care for Native Americans.

In exchange for taking tribal land through colonization, the U.S. government made long-standing promises to provide for the health and well-being of tribes. Native Americans are guaranteed free health care at clinics and hospitals operated or funded by the Indian Health Service. But that agency’s chronic underfunding has created massive blackouts in care. It sometimes pays for patients’ outside care through its Purchased/Referred Care program, but that’s limited too. Due to funding shortfalls, the agency prioritizes which treatments it will pay for.

To help fill the coverage gaps, some tribal nations have built their own health insurance programs. When tribes pay health premiums, clinics and hospitals in their areas can bill for services that might otherwise go unpaid. Some tribes have leveraged that money to expand services.

“I don’t see tribes getting rid of these programs,” Locklear said. “But it will drastically shift how much tribes can really put back in their community.”

For example, Tuba City Regional Health Care Corp., in northern Arizona within the Navajo Nation, is unique in providing comprehensive cancer treatment on a reservation, Locklear said. The corporation, he said, estimates its costs to cover patients this year are increasing by roughly 170% to nearly $38,000 per month without the enhanced subsidies.

One of the newer programs is on the Blackfeet reservation in northwestern Montana, where basic health services can be hard to find. Medical visits are often offered on a first-come, first-served basis, and services vanish when staff positions go unfilled, said Lyle Rutherford, a Blackfeet Nation council member.

“Some of it is just getting a regular eye appointment, or a primary care appointment,” Rutherford said.

The tribe has been slowly building its health insurance program since launching it in 2024. Rutherford said the enhanced subsidies made that possible. Fewer than 400 people are enrolled out of an estimated 3,000 who qualify. In January, the tribe paused the employer-sponsored coverage portion of its insurance program, which at the time included 52 people.

He said tribal leaders are seeking extra funding to keep the program afloat, and he hopes Congress finds a solution.

Lives on the Line

The impact goes beyond tribes’ insurance programs. The Urban Institute, a Washington, D.C.-based economic and social policy research nonprofit, will become uninsured in 2026 due to the higher costs.

Patients at the Oyate Health Center in Rapid City, South Dakota, are already reporting sky-high premium increases for ACA plans. CEO Jerilyn Church said it’s too soon to know how many will forgo coverage. But she said more uninsured patients would further strain the IHS Purchased/Referred Care program — with officials raising the bar for how sick patients must be to cover care outside of tribal health sites.

“There will be people that will not be able to get the care they need,” Church said, adding that could translate to “people losing their lives.”

Bighorn, the game warden on the Fort Peck Reservation, is among those still covered by the tribes’ insurance program. He has put it to use.

Soon after enrolling, Bighorn needed two hip replacements, surgeries that require off-reservation care and are ranked as low-priority procedures by the Indian Health Service. Bighorn said that in pre-surgery tests, specialists found the cause for his long-standing, dangerously high blood pressure. The diagnosis: untreated lifelong asthma and sleep apnea.

“I was a miserable man, tired all the time,” he said.

Without the tribe’s coverage, Bighorn may have eventually gotten those diagnoses but said it would have likely taken years to get help through the Indian Health Service. That would have meant getting much sicker before receiving care.

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News correspondent Arielle Zionts contributed to this report.

Are you struggling to afford your health insurance? Have you decided to forgo coverage? Click here to contact Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and share your story.

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Then 25 years old and six months pregnant, she drove herself to the emergency room in Ronan, Montana, on the Flathead Indian Reservation, where an ambulance transferred her to a larger hospital 60 miles away in Missoula. Once she arrived, the staff couldn’t detect her baby’s heartbeat. Swaney began to bleed heavily. She delivered a stillborn baby and was hospitalized for several days. At one point, doctors told her to call her family. They didn’t expect her to survive.

“It certainly changed my life — the experience — but my life has not been a bad life,” she told Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News.

Though her experiences were nearly 50 years ago, Swaney, a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, said Native Americans continue to receive inadequate maternal care. The data appears to support that belief.

In 2024, the most recent year for which data for the population is available, Native American and Alaska Native people had the among major demographic groups, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

In response to this disparity, Native organizations, the CDC, and some states are working to boost tribal participation in state maternal mortality review committees to better track and address pregnancy-related deaths in their communities. Native organizations are also considering ways tribes could create their own committees.

State maternal mortality review committees investigate deaths that occur during pregnancy or within a year after pregnancy, analyze data, and issue policy recommendations to lower death rates.

According to 2021 CDC data, compiled from 46 maternal mortality review committees, 87% of maternal deaths in the U.S. were deemed preventable. Committees reported that , deaths among Native American and Alaska Native people were considered preventable.

Our matriarchs, our moms, are what carries a nation forward.

Kim Moore-Salas

State committees have received federal money through the Preventing Maternal Deaths Act, which President Donald Trump signed in 2018.

But the money is scheduled to dry up on Jan. 31, when the short-term spending bill that ended the government shutdown expires.

Funding for the committees is included in the Labor, Health and Human Services, Education, and Related Agencies for fiscal year 2026. That bill must be approved by the House, Senate, and president to take effect.

Native American leaders said including members of their communities in maternal mortality review committee activities is an important step in addressing mortality disparities.

In 2023, tribal leaders and federal officials met to discuss four models: a mortality review committee for each tribe, a committee for each of the 12 Indian Health Service administrative regions, a national committee to review all Native American maternal deaths, and the addition of Native American subcommittees to state committees.

Whatever the model, tribal sovereignty, experience, and traditional knowledge are important factors, said Kim Moore-Salas, a co-chair of the Arizona Maternal Mortality Review Committee. She’s also the chairperson of the panel’s American Indian/Alaska Native mortality review subcommittee and a member of the Navajo Nation.

“Our matriarchs, our moms, are what carries a nation forward,” she said.

Mental health conditions and infection were the leading underlying causes of pregnancy-related death among Native American and Alaska Native women as of 2021, according to the CDC report analyzing data from 46 states.

The CDC found an estimated 68% of pregnancy-related deaths among Native American and Alaska Native people happened within a week of delivery to a year postpartum. The majority of those happened between 43 days and a year after birth.

The federal government has a responsibility under signed treaties to provide health care to the 575 federally recognized tribes in the U.S. through the Indian Health Service. Tribal members can receive limited services at no cost, but the agency is underfunded and understaffed.

A that analyzed data from 2016 to 2020 found that approximately 75% of Native American and Alaska Native pregnant people didn’t have access to care through the Indian Health Service around the time of giving birth, meaning many likely sought care elsewhere. More than 90% of Native American and Alaska Native births occur outside of IHS facilities, . For those who did deliver at IHS facilities, a from the Department of Health and Human Services’ Office of Inspector General found that 56% of labor and delivery patients received care that did not follow national clinical guidelines.

The 2024 study’s authors also found that members of the population were less likely to have stable insurance coverage and more likely to have a lapse in coverage during the period close to birth than non-Hispanic white people.

Cindy Gamble, who is Tlingit and a tribal community health consultant for the American Indian Health Commission in Washington, has been a member of the state’s maternal mortality review panel for about eight years. In the time she’s been on the state panel, she said, its composition has broadened to include more people of color and community members.

The panel also began to include suicide, overdose, and homicide deaths in its data analysis and added racism and discrimination to the risk factors considered during its case review process.

Solutions need to be tailored to the tribe’s identity and needs, Gamble said.

“It’s not a one-size-fits-all,” Gamble said, “because of all the beliefs and different cultures and languages that different tribes have.”

Gamble’s tenure on the state committee is distinctive. Few states have tribal representation on maternal mortality review committees, according to the National Indian Health Board, a nonprofit organization that advocates for tribal health.

The National Council of Urban Indian Health is also the participation of Urban Indian health organizations, which provide care for Native American people who live outside of reservations, in state maternal mortality review processes. As of 2025, the council had connected Urban Indian health organizations to state review committees in California, Kansas, Oklahoma, and South Dakota.

Native leaders such as Moore-Salas find the current efforts encouraging.

“It shows that state and tribes can work together,” she said.

In March 2024, Moore-Salas became the first Native American co-chair of Arizona’s Maternal Mortality Review Committee. In 2025 she and other Native American members of the committee developed guidelines for the American Indian/Alaska Native subcommittee and reviewed the group’s first cases.

The subcommittee is exploring ways to make the data collection and analysis process more culturally relevant to their population, Moore-Salas said.

But it takes time for policy changes to create widespread change in the health of a population, Gamble said. Despite efforts around the country, other factors may hinder the pace of progress. For example, maternity care deserts are growing nationally, caused by rapid hospital and labor and delivery unit closures. Health experts have raised concerns that upcoming cuts to Medicaid will hasten these closures.

Despite her experience and the ongoing crisis among Native American and Alaska Native people, Swaney hopes for change.

She had a second complicated pregnancy soon after her stillbirth. She went into labor about three months early, and the doctors said her son wouldn’t live to the next morning. But he did, and he was transferred about 525 miles away from Missoula to the nearest advanced neonatal unit, in Salt Lake City.

Her son, Kelly Camel, is now 48. He has severe cerebral palsy and profound deafness. He lives alone but has caregivers to help with cooking and other tasks, said Swaney, 73.

He “has a good sense of humor. He’s kind to other people. We couldn’t ask for a more complete child.”

This article first appeared on Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and is republished here under a .

The outbreaks are fueled by falling vaccination rates, fading immunity, and delays in public health tracking systems, according to interviews with state and federal health officials. Babies too young to be fully vaccinated are most at risk.

“Pertussis cases increase in a cyclical fashion driven by waning immunity, but the size of the outbreak and the potential for severe outcomes in children who cannot be vaccinated can be mitigated by high coverage and good communication to folks at risk,” said Demetre Daskalakis, a former head of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s immunization program, who resigned in August.

Before the first pertussis vaccine became available in the , whooping cough was one of the most common childhood diseases and a in the United States. Today, children get a series of DTaP shots (full-dose version) starting at 2 months old, and teens and adults receive a Tdap booster (lower-dose version) every 10 years. (Both vaccines target diphtheria and tetanus in addition to pertussis.)

Until recently, had received four doses of the DTaP vaccine by age 2, and case rates were controlled. But vaccine coverage has declined since the covid pandemic and increases in state nonmedical exemptions have widened immunity gaps, which is when the proportion of individuals who are immune falls below the level needed to contain spread.

Texas logged in 2024. By October 2025, the state had . National numbers are just as stark: In the first three months of 2025, the U.S. tallied — four times last year’s pace and 25 times 2023’s. Several states are posting their highest case totals in a decade, and outbreaks from Louisiana to South Dakota to Idaho make clear this surge isn’t regional. It’s everywhere.

Key Factors Behind These Numbers

Texas lawmakers recently passed a law that for parents to claim nonmedical exemptions from school vaccine requirements by allowing them to download exemption forms online. These forms now go straight to schools, not health departments, making the exemptions harder to track.

Dallas County Health and Human Services Director Phil Huang said the full impact of the new exemption rule is not yet known because it began this school year, but he expects it will make school-level vaccination rates fall even more.

He’s already noted a dramatic drop in vaccinations. Normally, during back-to-school season, “our whole front downstairs area is packed,” he said. “We did not see that this year.”

Huang believes fear of immigration enforcement may be keeping at least some families, especially Hispanic families, from getting vaccinated. Dallas County is about 40% Hispanic. “We think that a lot of them are deterred by the ICE activity,” he said, referring to Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

More complications: These vaccines protect against severe disease, but protection against infection fades over time, as is the case with the covid and influenza vaccines.

The U.S. switched in the 1990s from whole-cell pertussis vaccines to “acellular” ones, which cause fewer side effects but do not last as long. Because more adults today than in the past received the acellular vaccine as children, many have lost immunity over time and may unknowingly pass the infection to babies.

Babies Face the Greatest Risk

Whooping cough is especially dangerous for infants under a year old. Some stop breathing during coughing fits. Many need hospital care, about of whom develop pneumonia, and about 1% of whom die.

Because of this high risk, the CDC urges pregnant women to get a . This allows the mother’s antibodies to pass to the baby before birth.

Health officials once promoted “cocooning,” vaccinating all family members and caregivers around the baby, but that strategy was hard to carry out in real life and is . Vaccination of pregnant women and babies at 2 months of age remains the strongest protection.

Better Testing Finds More Cases

Modern is also than in the past. Many clinics now routinely use this lab-based technology to test for several respiratory infections at once, including pertussis. Ten years ago, these panels were uncommon.

CDC experts say this explains part of the rise in case counts. But the large number of infant hospitalizations and the size of state outbreaks show that true transmission has also increased.

A Growing Worry: Antibiotic Resistance

Doctors normally treat pertussis with , such as erythromycin, azithromycin, and clarithromycin. These drugs work best early in the illness and help stop spread. Another drug, trimethoprim-sulfamethoxazole, is an option for some older infants and adults.

But has become common abroad, especially in China, and recent reports show resistance rising in Peru. In the U.S., resistant cases have been rare.

CDC officials warn that resistant strains could spread more easily through international travel. Because treatment options are limited, especially for very young infants, health workers are watching this closely.

Huang said macrolide resistance has not been seen yet in Dallas County. But he is aware of the national concern.

What Happens Now

The resurgence of whooping cough has no single cause. Instead, several problems are occurring at once: falling vaccine coverage, only of pregnant women receiving Tdap, waning immunity, improved testing, and early signs of antibiotic resistance.

Health experts say solutions must match the problem’s complexity.

Across the nation, clinicians are being told to have a higher suspicion for pertussis when they see patients, especially children or caregivers of newborns with a persistent cough or coughing fits followed by vomiting. Babies who stop breathing or turn blue need immediate care.

Obstetricians are encouraged to discuss Tdap during every pregnancy. Pediatricians and family doctors are urged to check booster status for teens and adults.

Several states have issued health advisories over the past two years, including , which has in both 2024 and 2025 urging clinicians to stay vigilant.

Huang said Dallas County is trying to rebuild public health outreach programs that were cut when covid funding ended. But staffing is still limited. “There’s just a lot of different things that are making it more difficult,” he said.

He also noted that Dallas County now receives immunization registry data only once a month, rather than daily, making it harder to track vaccine coverage. “We don’t have that yet. … It’s not real time,” he said.

Protecting the Youngest

As the holiday season approaches, experts urge families with newborns to take extra care:

• Ensure infants and children are up to date with their childhood vaccines and that everyone in the family is up to date with their vaccines for influenza, covid, and RSV, or respiratory syncytial virus.
• Keep sick visitors away.
• Seek care quickly if an infant has a cough or pauses breathing.

This article first appeared on Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and is republished here under a .

Kopplin, a physician assistant who works with seniors, low-income people, and mental health patients in the rural Black Hills, shared her thoughts at a meeting hosted by state officials.

South Dakota’s leaders did a “good job of diving in” and asking questions to get “deeper at the root of the problem,” she said.

Kopplin later told Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News how one of her rural patients recently missed two appointments because of a broken-down car and no access to public transportation.

Nationwide, health care workers like Kopplin and thousands of others — from patient advocates to technology executives — flocked to town halls or online portals during the seven weeks state leaders had to craft and submit their applications for the Rural Health Transformation Program to the federal Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. That deadline was Nov. 5.

“We will give $50 billion away by the end of the year,” CMS Administrator Mehmet Oz said Nov. 6 at a Milken Institute event in Washington. He said all 50 states had submitted applications.

The program will “allow us to right-size the health care system,” Oz said, adding that innovations from the rural work “will spill over to suburban and urban America as well.”

Among applications and summaries publicly shared by states, themes include workforce development, telehealth, and access to healthy food. In Kansas, leaders want to build a “Food is Medicine” program. Wyoming officials propose a new program called “BearCare,” a state-sponsored health insurance plan that patients could use only after medical emergencies.

But many health policy experts and Democrats are raising alarms that the Republican-backed program will become a “slush fund.” Critics worry it will fail to reach the small-town patients they say need it most, especially as states face nearly a trillion dollars in Medicaid spending reductions over the next decade. Medicaid, a joint federal-state program, serves nearly rural Americans.

“The status quo is tremendous distress in rural communities,” said Heather Howard, a professor of the practice at Princeton University and director of the university’s State Health and Value Strategies program, which is tracking the rural health fund. The new funding won’t be enough to offset the Medicaid losses, she said.

Congressional Republicans added the five-year, $50 billion Rural Health Transformation Program as a last-minute sweetener to President Donald Trump’s massive tax-and-spending legislation. The move helped win support for the One Big Beautiful Bill Act from conservative holdouts who worried that the Medicaid cuts in the bill would harm rural hospitals in their states.

In Montana, which hosted an online public forum before submitting its application, a nonprofit director pitched youth peer support as a way of battling high suicide rates. A registered nurse asked state leaders to “think maybe even bigger” and consider statewide universal health care.

And in Georgia, a technology-focused chain of primary care clinics that serves seniors proposed expanding its operations into that state in its online public comment. A rural grant writer asked for “safe and stable housing.”

The law says half of the $50 billion will be divided equally among all states with an approved application. The rest will be doled out according to a points-based system. Of , $12.5 billion will be allotted based on each state’s rurality. The remaining $12.5 billion will go to states that on initiatives and policies that, in part, mirror the Trump administration’s “” objectives.

Top Senate Democrats have raised alarms about the rural health program. They include Ron Wyden of Oregon and Tina Smith of Minnesota, who a federal watchdog agency to investigate the fairness and implementation of the fund. Taylor Harvey, a Wyden aide, said the Government Accountability Office has confirmed it will investigate.

According to , no less than a quarter of states with an approved application may share the second half of the funding each fiscal year, CMS spokesperson Catherine Howden said. The agency plans to publish summaries of approved state projects, .

A handful of conservative-leaning states — including Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, and Oklahoma — have already instituted regulatory and legislative initiatives, such as prohibiting “non-nutritious” foods in benefit programs, that in the program application process.

Michael Chameides, a county supervisor in rural New York, said he fears the money could “be used in ways that would hurt certain states or reward certain states.” Chameides is also the communications and policy director with the Rural Democracy Initiative, a national advocacy organization that released last month.

Edwin Park, a research professor at Georgetown University’s Center for Children and Families, said federal lawmakers gave Oz and his agency “really excessive discretion” when awarding the money.

Federal administrators have added rules that aren’t within the statute that created the program, Park said. For example, its application guidelines say states cannot use more than 15% of their funding to pay providers for patient care — payments that are expected to take a hit due to the Medicaid cuts.

Georgetown’s health policy experts and Democrats aren’t the only ones with concerns. and in Ohio worry the money will go to large health systems instead of smaller, independent hospitals that serve people within their rural communities.

CMS’ Oz repeated the idea of getting “big hospitals to adopt smaller institutions” at the Washington gathering after applications were filed. He used similar language at a rural health summit hosted by South Dakota-based Sanford Health. “How do we get big hospitals to adopt smaller hospitals? Not to take them over, but to keep them viable by giving them good telehealth services, specialty support, radiology support,” he said at the October event.

Sanford owns or manages dozens of hospitals and hundreds of clinics and long-term care centers, as well as a health insurance company. The system reported about $81 million in operating income during the first six months of fiscal year 2025, according to .

Last year, Sanford opened a “command center” for its systemwide telehealth initiative. It launched a telehealth expansion in 2021 and offers virtual care for 78 medical specialties, Sanford President and CEO Bill Gassen said.

“We’ve tried to imagine, what if that number doubles?” Gassen said. The startup costs for telehealth are high, he said, and the rural fund could be a unique opportunity “for us to make virtual care available to more patients, to more communities, to more hospitals and health systems across the country.”

Gassen, who is set to chair the American Hospital Association in 2027, said Sanford leaders have met with state and federal officials, including Oz, whom he’s known for years, and Chris Klomp, a top deputy at CMS and a senior adviser to Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

The word “telehealth” appears 36 times in the rural health program’s 124-page application guidelines. But Don Robbins Jr., chief executive of a small hospital on the Illinois-Kentucky border, chuckled at the idea of using the funding for that purpose.

Robbins, whose 25-bed Massac Memorial Hospital averages five to seven patients in its beds each day, said his hospital does not regularly offer telehealth. Even if it did, he said, patients living more than a mile outside of town couldn’t use it because they don’t have a good internet connection.

The small hospital reported a $31,314 loss in September, Robbins said. “I think if we get anything out of it,” Robbins said of the rural health program, “we’ll be lucky.”

Kopplin, the physician assistant who attended the South Dakota meeting, is cautiously optimistic about the rural health fund. She views it as a wonderful chance for states to test out ideas and learn from what works and what doesn’t.

But “in a lot of ways this bill is going to be a band-aid approach” for rural health, she said. “It’s not really going to fix the problem.”

This article first appeared on Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and is republished here under a .