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An Arm and a Leg: The Woman Who Beat an $8,000 Hospital Fee

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Dan Weissmann
Wed, 17 Jul 2024 09:00:00 +0000

Hospital facility fees. They can feel like a charge just for walking in the door. Hospitals say they go toward overhead on facilities with lots of specialized equipment and staff, like emergency rooms.

But these fees have grown and become more common in recent years. And as hospitals buy up outpatient facilities, patients are starting to get charged facility fees for routine tests, procedures, and visits to the doctor’s office.

In this episode of “An Arm and a Leg,” host Dan Weissmann speaks with Georgann Boatright, a retired speech pathologist from Oxford, Mississippi, who was told by her local hospital that she needed to pay an $8,000 “operating room fee” for a routine test. She was determined not to get overcharged, even if it meant driving hours out of state to get the test someplace cheaper.

Dan Weissmann


@danweissmann

Host and producer of “An Arm and a Leg.” Previously, Dan was a staff reporter for Marketplace and Chicago’s WBEZ. His work also appears on All Things Considered, Marketplace, the BBC, 99 Percent Invisible, and Reveal, from the Center for Investigative Reporting.

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Transcript: The Woman Who Beat an $8,000 Hospital Fee

Note: “An Arm and a Leg” uses speech-recognition software to generate transcripts, which may contain errors. Please use the transcript as a tool but check the corresponding audio before quoting the podcast.

Dan: Hey there! A couple of months ago, we asked you to help us report on a type of fee that seems to be sneaking onto more and more medical bills. They’re often called “facility fees.” It’s like a cover charge just for walking in the door. And these kinds of fees are familiar to a lot of folks from places like emergency rooms, which do have a LOT of specialized equipment and staff in the facility behind that door. That’s basically the case for a cover charge: Once you get in the door, there’s a lot of stuff there. But in some cases, with facility fees, the door is just the entrance to a doctor’s office. Because facility fees– they’re often charged by hospitals. And hospitals own a lot of doctors’ offices these days. And once they take over, there’s no law that says they can’t just call that doctor’s office part of their facility and start charging. 

We asked what you’d been seeing. A bunch of you sent us stories, and copies of your bills, and your insurance statements. And when we called to follow up, you took our calls. You had A LOT to say. 

Teresa: Oh, it made me so mad, so mad. Anne: I mean, it’s a 10-minute appointment for a prescription. 

Amanda: I don’t understand any of it. Where did this number come from? 

Dan: We learned a bunch. Especially from those of you who are not new to this kind of thing. 

Francesca: It was a running joke with my husband and myself that like, okay, it’s time for my weekly, one-to-two hour phone call with Cigna. 

Dan: People who’ve been contending with the health care system for a while, dealing with chronic illnesses, or going to the doctor for monitoring, or having some kind of ongoing treatment. 

Anne: I see her once a year. I’ve seen her once a year for 18 years at the time. And then they started charging the facility fee. 

Dan: And I’ve always said here, we have a lot to learn from each other. And what we learned here is a lot more than is gonna fit in one episode. So we’re gonna start here with one story that really stood out. Partly because it involved the biggest dollar amount we saw: An eight-thousand dollar facility fee. And partly because the person we heard from … didn’t end up paying it. And partly because of what it took for her to avoid paying it. She had what I might call a lifetime of preparation– including lessons I think a lot of us can learn from. And she has the kind of grit that not all of us have. But I’m hoping that some of it might rub off. So let’s meet her. 

Georgann Boatright: My name is Georgann Boatright, and I am a retired speech pathologist. 

Dan: Georgann lives in Oxford, Mississippi. She works for the university there, Ole Miss, coordinating special events. 

Georgann Boatright: It’s lots of fun. Never a dull moment. Everything from weddings to conferences. 

Dan: The day we talked, she had made coffee for 500 people. Before eight am. And here’s how she describes her response to that eight-thousand dollar charge. 

Georgann Boatright: I was like, that’s insane. And of course, being the obnoxious human being that I can be at times, and a little bit pushy, you know; sometimes you got to do that. I’ve always been that advocate for everybody else, so sometimes I have to advocate for me.

Dan: Georgann pushed back– we will talk about how far she had to go. And among other things, we’re talking about actual miles she had to travel. It was not easy. But it was worth it. Let’s take a ride. 

This is An Arm and a Leg– a show about why health care costs so freaking much, and what we can maybe do about it. I’m Dan Weissmann. I’m a reporter, and I like a challenge. So the job we’ve chosen here is to take one of the most enraging, terrifying, depressing parts of American life, and bring you a show that’s entertaining, empowering, and useful. 

Georgann Boatright grew up in Oxford, went to Ole Miss– the University of Mississippi, right in town. And after a decade and change in places like Huntsville, Arkansas, and towns near Springfield, Missouri, she moved back to Oxford about 15 years ago. 

Georgann Boatright: My mom came ill. And so I moved back to Mississippi to be with her for the end. 

Dan: Georgann herself had a health scare not long after– it turned out to be a non-cancerous tumor. Her local doctors couldn’t figure out the problem, but she found good treatment at West Cancer Center in Memphis, about an hour and a half away. And then, in 2022, an actual breast cancer diagnosis. She went back to the West Cancer Center in Memphis for treatment. And while she was being treated for breast cancer, her doctors found a thyroid problem. 

Georgann Boatright: But they were kind of like, okay, we’ll put that on a back burner for right now because we got to take care of this first. 

Dan: So, they did! And you know, that took months, of course. Once she was done– and no evidence of cancer for a few months!– they picked up the thyroid thread. Her endocrinologist in town suggested what’s called a needle biopsy: no incision, just pulling a sample with basically a syringe, guided by ultrasound. And Georgann was plenty familiar with the procedure because she’d had two of them for her breast cancer.

Georgann Boatright: Well, of course, having just done all this other stuff, I was kind of like, oh, okay, just another biopsy. No big deal. 

Dan: Her endocrinologist suggested the local hospital, Baptist Memorial, North Mississippi. And started getting her scheduled there. 

Georgann Boatright: I was just sitting in my office doing my thing and, you know, answering emails, trying to get people to sign up and do a wedding. So, they called me and said, “Hey, you know, we need a thousand dollars up front.” And I’m like, why? I’ve already met my deductible. Da, da, da. You know, and they’re like, Oh, well, this is just this is just your copay.” 

Dan: None of this sounded right to Georgann, based on her experience. 

Georgann Boatright: I’d had two biopsies done in the past year, just in the process of doing the breast stuff. And I was like, that’s not normal. 

Dan: At the cancer center in Memphis, a thousand dollars was in the ballpark for the whole procedure, like before insurance paid anything. And Georgann’s share, after insurance, was like a fraction of that. 

Georgann Boatright: And I went, excuse me, because of course I was expecting, you know, under a hundred bucks, you know. And they acted very offended that I questioned. She was like, “Well, this is standard.” And I was like, “But I’m confused,” and, you know, and the more questions, she got kind of defensive. 

Dan: Georgann says she quickly developed a little sympathy for the woman on the other side of the call. 

Georgann Boatright: I was like, this person has no clue. This is their job. They’re given this information. They’re given my phone number. They’re told to collect a thousand dollars from me. You know, I mean, it’s not her fault. 

Dan: So, Georgann quickly made a new plan. First step: get a line-item version of that estimate, in writing. And next: find somebody else to talk with. 

Georgann Boatright: I was like, “Well, hey, how about you just do me a printout and I’ll come by the hospital and pick that up. If you’ll just leave it with somebody near the desk …” 

Dan: … Then Georgann figured she can actually see what these charges are for and you know, maybe talk to somebody who’ll know a little more. She went that same day. 

Georgann Boatright: I wanted to get the biopsy done. I wanted to find out what was going on. You know, once you’ve had cancer, it kind of, that C word just does not sit well with your brain. You kind of, it starts eating at you and you’re like, I really want to know. 

Dan: And she wanted to know why the hospital wanted a thousand dollars from her. She got that printout– the line item estimate. It showed thirteen thousand dollars in charges. And the single biggest charge– more than half of the whole bill– eight thousand dollars– was for an “operating room” charge. It wasn’t labeled “facility fee,” but that’s exactly what it was. Georgann sent us this line-item estimate. We showed it to a medical-bill coding expert; she confirmed– this is a facility fee. And I’ll just mention again: Of all the people who sent us bills with facility fees on them, this was the highest by a LOT. Alot a lot. And seeing this “operating room” charge really set off alarm bells for Georgann. Because Georgann had just had TWO needle biopsies. And they sure as heck had not taken place in an operating room. 

Georgann Boatright: It’s a needle aspiration. It is ultrasound-guided. So it’s done in radiology. This is not in an operating room. 

Dan: When she got to Baptist, Georgann did get to talk in person with a billing specialist. It wasn’t a satisfying heart-to-heart, but it gave Georgann the clarity she needed. 

Georgann Boatright: At a certain point in the conversation, I was just kind of like, “You do realize that there is not an operating room involved in this?” And she said, “Well, of course, there is.” I was like, “No, there really isn’t.” “Oh, well, that’s just our standard procedure.” And so she stuck with that. And so I was like, okay, well, since you’re going to just stick with this, I’m going to just let this go. Because if I can’t seem to get you to understand that I’m not going to pay you 8,000 dollars for an operating room that I’m not going to go in, we’re not going to get anywhere. 

Dan: And Georgann knew she had an alternative: She could go back to the cancer center in Memphis. It was a bit of a drive, but she trusted them to do good work and not to overbill her. So that’s what she did. Her out of pocket cost was eighty dollars. We asked Baptist all about Georgann’s experience, and what was behind this eight-thousand dollar charge. Especially since medical and surgical supplies were listed as separate line items. 

A hospital spokesperson wrote back: “The price a patient sees on the hospital bill also reflects all the people who care for them and keep the hospital operating, not just the services provided, such as nurses and caregivers at the bedside, pharmacists, lab technicians, food service staff, environmental service professionals and security personnel who, among many others, keep the hospital running 24/7. We believe we charge fair and reasonable prices for our expert care.” 

Of course, we also asked Baptist why there would be an operating room charge at all, when the patient didn’t expect to be seen in an operating room. The spokesperson wrote back: “I’m not sure why there was a discrepancy. But, in general, the pricing information we share with patients is only an estimate, and the final bill can vary. We encourage patients to contact us with any questions.” OK, then. And I just want to say: I think– well, I KNOW– that I’ve undersold what it took for Georgann to make that decision. I mean, yeah, we’ve seen, Georgann showed a lot of initiative, and savvy, and decisiveness, and a certain amount of grace in navigating a couple of conversations with her local hospital’s billing department. But we haven’t seen EXACTLY what made her so prepared for those conversations, and to make her decision so quickly. And if we’re gonna learn from Georgann’s example, we’ve gotta look at that. That’s coming right up. 

This episode of An Arm and a Leg is a co-production of Public Road Productions and KFF Health News. Public Road is the organization I founded to make this show. The name comes from Walt Whitman; I’ll tell you about it sometime. KFF Health News is a nonprofit newsroom covering healthcare in America. Their journalists do amazing work– win all kinds of awards, every year. I’m honored to work with them. So, what allowed Georgann Boatright to navigate those conversations with her hospital billing department so skillfully? And to quickly decide to drive to another city for care? Well, let’s start with her old job as a speech pathologist. You might remember, when she did that job, she was living in places like Huntsville, Arkansas. Or, as Georgann describes it … 

Georgann Boatright: … Absolutely the middle of nowhere, Arkansas. 

Dan: It’s not like a speech therapist is gonna have a ton of clients in town. Georgann worked for an agency that sent her all over the place. 

Georgann Boatright: I was driving about three- to five-hundred miles a day when I retired. 

Dan: A day! 

Georgann Boatright: Yeah, well, they’re spread a little thin in that area. 

Dan: Yeah. Yeah. Right. How fast were you driving? Like, how many hours are we talking about being on the road? 

Georgann Boatright: I was usually on the road 12 to 14 hours a day. 

Dan: Oh my god. 

Georgann Boatright: Yeah, but that’s because, you know, I was bouncing in and out everywhere from Liberty, Missouri, which is outside of Kansas City, all the way down into Arkansas. 

Dan: So, we start to get the idea that driving an hour and a half from Oxford to Memphis is, you know, not such a big deal to Georgann. But there’s this other thing. Which is what Georgann spent all those hours in her car actually doing. Because she was not listening to podcasts, I can tell you that. She was dealing with health insurance. On behalf of her colleagues and her patients. 

Georgann Boatright: I was the person in our company that would do all the appeals. I got really good at getting Medicare, Medicaid, Blue Cross Blue Shield– all the insurances to pay. 

Dan: Georgann did all this by phone, with somebody back at the home office transcribing for her. It was part of her gig– because she had all that time in the car. The agency she worked with also employed physical therapists and occupational therapists, sending them out to nursing homes. And those colleagues would have multiple appointments a day at the same spot. 

Georgann Boatright: I would only have like, maybe one or two patients during the course of the day, and then I would end up doing paperwork the rest of the day or helping someone else do paperwork. 

Dan: Because not only did Georgann have time with all those hours in the car. She had something else: language skills. 

Georgann Boatright: The crew that I worked with, they were mostly from the Philippines, and we partied very well. And I ate a lot of good food, and I gained weight. And no fault of their own, English wasn’t their first language. So that was part of my job was to make sure that the language barrier wasn’t the problem for the physical and occupational therapists getting paid. 

Dan: So for five years, she spent most of her long workday dealing with insurance. 

Georgann Boatright: That was what I did, and I was really, really good at it. You know, when you get on a first name basis with the reps in your area, you know that you’re a thorn in their side. When they would see my name, they’d be like, “We might as well just go ahead and pay this one because she’s going to find a way to get it through.” 

Dan: So when Georgann ended up talking with those folks at her local hospital’s billing office– the folks who were trying to tell her that an eight-thousand-dollar operating-room fee was just standard– she had a pretty good idea of what their jobs were: Just getting the hospital’s money. 

Georgann Boatright: I get that. And I understand that, but you know, you have to understand when you’re calling people and asking them for money that you have to know why they’re paying you money and whether or not you can justify how much they’re paying you. 

Dan: So, just to recap: When Georgann was in those conversations with the local hospital billing department, she had years and years of experience in medical billing. She was, by her account, really really good at it. It doesn’t seem like a stretch to guess that when she talked with these folks at the local hospital’s billing department, she knew a lot more about medical billing than they did. And she knew that this hospital wasn’t her only option. She had just done cancer treatment at West Cancer Center in Memphis. She trusted them, and they hadn’t overbilled her. And she wasn’t afraid of a road trip. That 300-mile, 500-mile-a-day job was a while ago, but just in the last year she’d made the trek to Memphis for cancer treatments, several times. In fact, the story of the wrap-up to that treatment gave me real appreciation for Georgann Boatright’s brand of cheerful grit and determination. For more than a year, Georgann had been planning a big family reunion for Christmas: Her kids, their kids, gathered from across the country, to a lodge near her husband’s mom. 

Georgann Boatright: I wanted his mom who has been getting on in age to get a chance to see the great grands and this kind of stuff. 

Dan: Georgann had made the reservation for the lodge months before her cancer diagnosis. And then, the last day of her radiation treatment got scheduled for December 23. The reunion was scheduled to start that very night. In Branson, Missouri– a five-hour drive from Memphis. 

Georgann Boatright: And I was like, I am not canceling this. Everybody’s like, “Mom, you don’t have to do this,” blah, blah, blah. I was like, “No, I’m going to be healthy and done with this treatment. By the time of this reservation.” I said, “I don’t care what happens!” 

Dan: The procedure that last day was to remove a device that had been delivering targeted radiation doses. And when the day came, an ice storm knocked out the power at West Cancer Center. The medical staff suggested, you know, rescheduling. 

Georgann Boatright: They’re like, “Well, do you want to come … No! I want this done. I am not coming back tomorrow. 

Dan: Wow. 

Georgann Boatright: I am going to make this reservation. I’m going to spend the night in a very nice place in Branson, Missouri and play in the snow. 

Dan: It wasn’t gonna be easy. 

Georgann Boatright: There was no power. There was no lights. There was only the little emergency generator lights that come on in a hospital. 

Dan: But they made it work. 

Georgann Boatright: I had it taken out that day. By the flashlights of the nurses 

Dan: The flashlights on the nurses phones! Georgann says she slept in the car while her husband drove them to Branson that day. Mission accomplished. 

Georgann Boatright: It was a great trip, and everybody was there, and it was wonderful to kind of celebrate at the end of that. I was done with radiation. I was like, I’m going to get well now and just keep kicking cancer’s butt. Because I was like, I am not giving up. 

Dan: I said right at the top: This story is epic, right? And I said that whatever’s powering Georgann Boatright, I hope just a little bit of it can rub off on us– on me. So, when Georgann talked with the folks in the billing department at her local hospital, she knew just what she was capable of. Also, it’s worth mentioning, she knew she had some other things that not everybody has: She knew she had excellent insurance because she’d seen it at work when she got the bills for her breast cancer treatment. And she knew she had someone to drive her to Memphis and back. Uber? That would’ve cost a LOT. Actually, Georgann says she priced it recently for her job. 

Georgann Boatright: It’s 145 dollars, and I was like, you got to be kidding me! 

Dan: I believe I could fly to Memphis from Chicago for 145 dollars one way. 

Georgann Boatright: I could get a flight to Southwest for 120. Believe me, I do it. That’s my thing. If I do it during the week, I can go from here to Midway. Yeah. 

Dan: Wait, why is flying to Chicago’s Midway airport Georgann’s thing? Well, the answer actually relates to one more thing Georgann had going for her in this whole scenario. Something– someone– I left out before. 

Melissa McChesney: My name is Melissa McShesney. I live in Chicago, Illinois. 

Dan: Melissa is Georgann’s daughter. She is the mom of two of Georgann’s grandkids. Melissa’s brother– dad to three more grandkids– he also lives in Chicago. Those kids and grandkids are, all of them, the reason Georgann has that airfare at the tip of her tongue. But it’s Melissa who plays a role in this story. Because Melissa works for CMS, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services– the federal agency that oversees Medicaid and Medicare. So health insurance is her job. I mean, at least government-funded insurance. 

Melissa McChesney: I only know enough to be dangerous on the private side. But, you know, I have colleagues that know a lot more. 

Dan: Melissa and her mom– two health-insurance experts– can back each other up. 

Melissa McChesney: It’s always great to have another set of eyes. So, sometimes I call her, sometimes she calls me. 

Dan: This time– after those conversations with the hospital billing department– it was Georgann who did the dialing. 

Melissa McChesney: She called me to say, “This doesn’t make any sense. Why is this the most expensive procedure I’ve seen in a year when I just went through breast cancer treatment? At least from the out-of-pocket cost. And I quite frankly didn’t fully know either. 

Dan: So some poking around led Melissa to a story from the Bill of the Month series our pals at KFF Health News do with NPR. 

NPRHost: For our September bill of the month, we’re taking a close look at facility charges … 

Dan: And this story was a pretty exact match with Georgann’s situation: An operating room charge for a needle biopsy. NPR’s website even had a PDF of the original bill, with the billing codes.  

Melissa McChesney: Which was very helpful, actually, because I was able to see the fee that the article was focused on. And I was like, “This is the exact same thing, mom.” 

Dan: And that bit of context? It confirmed for Georgann that she could trust her initial impression: That this “operating room” fee seemed out of whack. And that she could do better. So she had that biopsy at West Cancer Center in Memphis before the week was out. And good news: She’s OK! The biopsy came back benign. Her local endocrinologist has been monitoring her bloodwork. 

Georgann Boatright: And so right at the moment, my thyroid levels are all staying normal. So they’re not concerned that it’s throwing off everything unless it becomes like a huge thing that grows in my neck. 

Dan: And she gets an occasional ultrasound at a local clinic. No needle, no hospital, no facility fees– and keeping an eye on the bills. 

Georgann Boatright: They have been very reasonable. That’s why I was like, okay, well I’ll continue doing this as long as y’all don’t screw me over anymore. 

Dan: One last thing I should tell you about Georgann and how she handled that eight thousand dollar charge the hospital had wanted: This is something she did after her daughter Melissa sent her that NPR story– you know, the one that helped her decide she was definitely going to Memphis. Melissa’s got this part of the story. 

Melissa McChesney: She sent the NPR article and her estimate to her endocrinologist and said, “Just so you know, this is what happens when you refer individuals to this hospital. And you know, it would cost them a lot of money.” I was so proud of her for doing that. it just speaks to my mom and trying to be a person who’s not just worried about her own experience, but the experience of others in her community.

 Dan: I’m telling you, we all want some of Georgann Boatright to rub off on us.An ArmandaLeg Season 12, Episode 1 July, 11, 2024 p.14 You sent us SO MANYstories about facility fees. I hope you can see why we wanted to bring you this one first, but we are not done. We talked with a bunch of you– and we talked with some experts who gave us some insights … and some lessons. 

Shelley Safian: Sometimes you talk to the physician, sometimes you talk to the facility, sometimes you got to go to the president and say, “You know what? This is not right.” 

Dan: And we talked to experts who gave us a look at what policy makers all over the country are doing– or trying to do– about these fees. Because they’re definitely paying attention. Because a lot of people are recognizing: You should not need to be Georgann Boatright to find a way around fees like this. Most of us aren’t. 

Christine Monahan: There’s bipartisan interest in this issue. We are seeing these reforms bubble up across the states. 

Dan: So over the next couple of months, we’ll be sharing a LOT more of what you’ve been helping us learn. Meanwhile, because you’ve been so incredibly helpful here, I’m going to come back to you soon asking for more help on a different story. That’s coming next time. Till then, take care of yourself. 

This episode of An Arm and a Leg was produced by Emily Pisacreta and Claire Davenport, with help from me, Dan Weissmann, and edited by Ellen Weiss. Adam Raymonda is our audio wizard. Our music is by Dave Weiner and Blue Dot Sessions. Gabrielle Healy is our managing editor for audience. Gabe Bullard is our engagement editor. Bea Bosco is our consulting director of operations. Sarah Ballama is our operations manager. 

An Arm and a Leg is produced in partnership with KFF Health News. That’s a national newsroom producing in-depth journalism about healthcare in America and a core program at KFF, an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Zach Dyer is senior audio producer at KFF Health News. He’s editorial liaison to this show. 

And thanks to the Institute for Nonprofit News for serving as our fiscal sponsor. They allow us to accept tax-exempt donations. You can learn more about INN at INN.org. 

Finally, thank you to everybody who supports this show financially. You can join in any time at https://armandalegshow.com/support/. Thanks so much for pitching in if you can– and, thanks for listening.

“An Arm and a Leg” is a co-production of KFF Health News and Public Road Productions.

To keep in touch with “An Arm and a Leg,” subscribe to its newsletters. You can also follow the show on Facebook and the social platform X. And if you’ve got stories to tell about the health care system, the producers would love to hear from you.

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——————————
By: Dan Weissmann
Title: An Arm and a Leg: The Woman Who Beat an $8,000 Hospital Fee
Sourced From: kffhealthnews.org/news/podcast/woman-who-beat-hospital-facility-fee/
Published Date: Wed, 17 Jul 2024 09:00:00 +0000

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Kaiser Health News

US Judge Names Receiver To Take Over California Prisons’ Mental Health Program

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kffhealthnews.org – Don Thompson – 2025-03-20 12:46:00

SACRAMENTO, Calif. — A judge has initiated a federal court takeover of California’s troubled prison mental health system by naming the former head of the Federal Bureau of Prisons to serve as receiver, giving her four months to craft a plan to provide adequate care for tens of thousands of prisoners with serious mental illness.

Senior U.S. District Judge Kimberly Mueller issued her order March 19, identifying Colette Peters as the nominated receiver. Peters, who was Oregon’s first female corrections director and known as a reformer, ran the scandal-plagued federal prison system for 30 months until President Donald Trump took office in January. During her tenure, she closed a women’s prison in Dublin, east of Oakland, that had become known as the “rape club.”

Michael Bien, who represents prisoners with mental illness in the long-running prison lawsuit, said Peters is a good choice. Bien said Peters’ time in Oregon and Washington, D.C., showed that she “kind of buys into the fact that there are things we can do better in the American system.”

“We took strong objection to many things that happened under her tenure at the BOP, but I do think that this is a different job and she’s capable of doing it,” said Bien, whose firm also represents women who were housed at the shuttered federal women’s prison.

California corrections officials called Peters “highly qualified” in a statement, while Gov. Gavin Newsom’s office did not immediately comment. Mueller gave the parties until March 28 to show cause why Peters should not be appointed.

Peters is not talking to the media at this time, Bien said. The judge said Peters is to be paid $400,000 a year, prorated for the four-month period.

About 34,000 people incarcerated in California prisons have been diagnosed with serious mental illnesses, representing more than a third of California’s prison population, who face harm because of the state’s noncompliance, Mueller said.

Appointing a receiver is a rare step taken when federal judges feel they have exhausted other options. A receiver took control of Alabama’s correctional system in 1976, and they have otherwise been used to govern prisons and jails only about a dozen times, mostly to combat poor conditions caused by overcrowding. Attorneys representing inmates in Arizona have asked a judge to take over prison health care there.

Mueller’s appointment of a receiver comes nearly 20 years after a different federal judge seized control of California’s prison medical system and installed a receiver, currently J. Clark Kelso, with broad powers to hire, fire, and spend the state’s money.

California officials initially said in August that they would not oppose a receivership for the mental health program provided that the receiver was also Kelso, saying then that federal control “has successfully transformed medical care” in California prisons. But Kelso withdrew from consideration in September, as did two subsequent candidates. Kelso said he could not act “zealously and with fidelity as receiver in both cases.”

Both cases have been running for so long that they are now overseen by a second generation of judges. The original federal judges, in a legal battle that reached the U.S. Supreme Court, more than a decade ago forced California to significantly reduce prison crowding in a bid to improve medical and mental health care for incarcerated people.

State officials in court filings defended their improvements over the decades. Prisoners’ attorneys countered that treatment remains poor, as evidenced in part by the system’s record-high suicide rate, topping 31 suicides per 100,000 prisoners, nearly double that in federal prisons.

“More than a quarter of the 30 class-members who died by suicide in 2023 received inadequate care because of understaffing,” prisoners’ attorneys wrote in January, citing the prison system’s own analysis. One prisoner did not receive mental health appointments for seven months “before he hanged himself with a bedsheet.”

They argued that the November passage of a ballot measure increasing criminal penalties for some drug and theft crimes is likely to increase the prison population and worsen staffing shortages.

California officials argued in January that Mueller isn’t legally justified in appointing a receiver because “progress has been slow at times but it has not stalled.”

Mueller has countered that she had no choice but to appoint an outside professional to run the prisons’ mental health program, given officials’ intransigence even after she held top officials in contempt of court and levied fines topping $110 million in June. Those extreme actions, she said, only triggered more delays.

The 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals on March 19 upheld Mueller’s contempt ruling but said she didn’t sufficiently justify calculating the fines by doubling the state’s monthly salary savings from understaffing prisons. It upheld the fines to the extent that they reflect the state’s actual salary savings but sent the case back to Mueller to justify any higher penalty.

Mueller had been set to begin additional civil contempt proceedings against state officials for their failure to meet two other court requirements: adequately staffing the prison system’s psychiatric inpatient program and improving suicide prevention measures. Those could bring additional fines topping tens of millions of dollars.

But she said her initial contempt order has not had the intended effect of compelling compliance. Mueller wrote as far back as July that additional contempt rulings would also be likely to be ineffective as state officials continued to appeal and seek delays, leading “to even more unending litigation, litigation, litigation.”

She went on to foreshadow her latest order naming a receiver in a preliminary order: “There is one step the court has taken great pains to avoid. But at this point,” Mueller wrote, “the court concludes the only way to achieve full compliance in this action is for the court to appoint its own receiver.”

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

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Amid Plummeting Diversity at Medical Schools, a Warning of DEI Crackdown’s ‘Chilling Effect’

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kffhealthnews.org – Annie Sciacca – 2025-03-20 04:00:00

The Trump administration’s crackdown on DEI programs could exacerbate an unexpectedly steep drop in diversity among medical school students, even in states like California, where public universities have been navigating bans on affirmative action for decades. Education and health experts warn that, ultimately, this could harm patient care.

Since taking office, President Donald Trump has issued a handful of executive orders aimed at terminating all diversity, equity, and inclusion, or DEI, initiatives in federally funded programs. And in his March 4 address to Congress, he described the Supreme Court’s 2023 decision banning the consideration of race in college and university admissions as “brave and very powerful.”

Last month, the Education Department’s Office for Civil Rights — which lost about 50% of its staff in mid-March — directed schools, including postsecondary institutions, to end race-based programs or risk losing federal funding. The “Dear Colleague” letter cited the Supreme Court’s decision.

Paulette Granberry Russell, president and CEO of the National Association of Diversity Officers in Higher Education, said that “every utterance of ‘diversity’ is now being viewed as a violation or considered unlawful or illegal.” Her organization filed a lawsuit challenging Trump’s anti-DEI executive orders.

While California and eight other states — Arizona, Florida, Idaho, Michigan, Nebraska, New Hampshire, Oklahoma, and Washington — had already implemented bans of varying degrees on race-based admissions policies well before the Supreme Court decision, schools bolstered diversity in their ranks with equity initiatives such as targeted scholarships, trainings, and recruitment programs.

But the court’s decision and the subsequent state-level backlash — 29 states have since introduced bills to curb diversity initiatives, according to data published by the Chronicle of Higher Education — have tamped down these efforts and led to the recent declines in diversity numbers, education experts said.

After the Supreme Court’s ruling, the numbers of Black and Hispanic medical school enrollees fell by double-digit percentages in the 2024-25 school year compared with the previous year, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges. Black enrollees declined 11.6%, while the number of new students of Hispanic origin fell 10.8%. The decline in enrollment of American Indian or Alaska Native students was even more dramatic, at 22.1%. New Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander enrollment declined 4.3%.

“We knew this would happen,” said Norma Poll-Hunter, AAMC’s senior director of workforce diversity. “But it was double digits — much larger than what we anticipated.”

The fear among educators is the numbers will decline even more under the new administration.

At the end of February, the Education Department launched an online portal encouraging people to “report illegal discriminatory practices at institutions of learning,” stating that students should have “learning free of divisive ideologies and indoctrination.” The agency later issued a “Frequently Asked Questions” document about its new policies, clarifying that it was acceptable to observe events like Black History Month but warning schools that they “must consider whether any school programming discourages members of all races from attending.”

“It definitely has a chilling effect,” Poll-Hunter said. “There is a lot of fear that could cause institutions to limit their efforts.”

Numerous requests for comment from medical schools about the impact of the anti-DEI actions went unreturned. University presidents are staying mum on the issue to protect their institutions, according to reporting from The New York Times.

Utibe Essien, a physician and UCLA assistant professor, said he has heard from some students who fear they won’t be considered for admission under the new policies. Essien, who co-authored a study on the effect of affirmative action bans on medical schools, also said students are worried medical schools will not be as supportive toward students of color as in the past.

“Both of these fears have the risk of limiting the options of schools folks apply to and potentially those who consider medicine as an option at all,” Essien said, adding that the “lawsuits around equity policies and just the climate of anti-diversity have brought institutions to this place where they feel uncomfortable.”

In early February, the Pacific Legal Foundation filed a lawsuit against the University of California-San Francisco’s Benioff Children’s Hospital Oakland over an internship program designed to introduce “underrepresented minority high school students to health professions.”

Attorney Andrew Quinio filed the suit, which argues that its plaintiff, a white teenager, was not accepted to the program after disclosing in an interview that she identified as white.

“From a legal standpoint, the issue that comes about from all this is: How do you choose diversity without running afoul of the Constitution?” Quinio said. “For those who want diversity as a goal, it cannot be a goal that is achieved with discrimination.”

UC Health spokesperson Heather Harper declined to comment on the suit on behalf of the hospital system.

Another lawsuit filed in February accuses the University of California of favoring Black and Latino students over Asian American and white applicants in its undergraduate admissions. Specifically, the complaint states that UC officials pushed campuses to use a “holistic” approach to admissions and “move away from objective criteria towards more subjective assessments of the overall appeal of individual candidates.”

The scrutiny of that approach to admissions could threaten diversity at the UC-Davis School of Medicine, which for years has employed a “race-neutral, holistic admissions model” that reportedly tripled enrollment of Black, Latino, and Native American students.

“How do you define diversity? Does it now include the way we consider how someone’s lived experience may be influenced by how they grew up? The type of school, the income of their family? All of those are diversity,” said Granberry Russell, of the National Association of Diversity Officers in Higher Education. “What might they view as an unlawful proxy for diversity equity and inclusion? That’s what we’re confronted with.”

California Attorney General Rob Bonta, a Democrat, recently joined other state attorneys general to issue guidance urging that schools continue their DEI programs despite the federal messaging, saying that legal precedent allows for the activities. California is also among several states suing the administration over its deep cuts to the Education Department.

If the recent decline in diversity among newly enrolled students holds or gets worse, it could have long-term consequences for patient care, academic experts said, pointing toward the vast racial disparities in health outcomes in the U.S., particularly for Black people.

A higher proportion of Black primary care doctors is associated with longer life expectancy and lower mortality rates among Black people, according to a 2023 study published by the JAMA Network.

Physicians of color are also more likely to build their careers in medically underserved communities, studies have shown, which is increasingly important as the AAMC projects a shortage of up to 40,400 primary care doctors by 2036.

“The physician shortage persists, and it’s dire in rural communities,” Poll-Hunter said. “We know that diversity efforts are really about improving access for everyone. More diversity leads to greater access to care — everyone is benefiting from it.”

This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. 

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Tribal Health Leaders Say Medicaid Cuts Would Decimate Health Programs

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kffhealthnews.org – Jazmin Orozco Rodriguez – 2025-03-19 04:00:00

As Congress mulls potentially massive cuts to federal Medicaid funding, health centers that serve Native American communities, such as the Oneida Community Health Center near Green Bay, Wisconsin, are bracing for catastrophe.

That’s because more than 40% of the about 15,000 patients the center serves are enrolled in Medicaid. Cuts to the program would be detrimental to those patients and the facility, said Debra Danforth, the director of the Oneida Comprehensive Health Division and a citizen of the Oneida Nation.

“It would be a tremendous hit,” she said.

The facility provides a range of services to most of the Oneida Nation’s 17,000 people, including ambulatory care, internal medicine, family practice, and obstetrics. The tribe is one of two in Wisconsin that have an “open-door policy,” Danforth said, which means that the facility is open to members of any federally recognized tribe.

But Danforth and many other tribal health officials say Medicaid cuts would cause service reductions at health facilities that serve Native Americans.

Indian Country has a unique relationship to Medicaid, because the program helps tribes cover chronic funding shortfalls from the Indian Health Service, the federal agency responsible for providing health care to Native Americans.

Medicaid has accounted for about two-thirds of third-party revenue for tribal health providers, creating financial stability and helping facilities pay operational costs. More than a million Native Americans enrolled in Medicaid or the closely related Children’s Health Insurance Program also rely on the insurance to pay for care outside of tribal health facilities without going into significant medical debt. Tribal leaders are calling on Congress to exempt tribes from cuts and are preparing to fight to preserve their access.

“Medicaid is one of the ways in which the federal government meets its trust and treaty obligations to provide health care to us,” said Liz Malerba, director of policy and legislative affairs for the United South and Eastern Tribes Sovereignty Protection Fund, a nonprofit policy advocacy organization for 33 tribes spanning from Texas to Maine. Malerba is a citizen of the Mohegan Tribe.

“So we view any disruption or cut to Medicaid as an abrogation of that responsibility,” she said.

Tribes face an arduous task in providing care to a population that experiences severe health disparities, a high incidence of chronic illness, and, at least in western states, a life expectancy of 64 years — the lowest of any demographic group in the U.S. Yet, in recent years, some tribes have expanded access to care for their communities by adding health services and providers, enabled in part by Medicaid reimbursements.

During the last two fiscal years, five urban Indian organizations in Montana saw funding growth of nearly $3 million, said Lisa James, director of development for the Montana Consortium for Urban Indian Health, during a webinar in February organized by the Georgetown University Center for Children and Families and the National Council of Urban Indian Health.

The increased revenue was “instrumental,” James said, allowing clinics in the state to add services that previously had not been available unless referred out for, including behavioral health services. Clinics were also able to expand operating hours and staffing.

Montana’s five urban Indian clinics, in Missoula, Helena, Butte, Great Falls, and Billings, serve 30,000 people, including some who are not Native American or enrolled in a tribe. The clinics provide a wide range of services, including primary care, dental care, disease prevention, health education, and substance use prevention.

James said Medicaid cuts would require Montana’s urban Indian health organizations to cut services and limit their ability to address health disparities.

American Indian and Alaska Native people under age 65 are more likely to be uninsured than white people under 65, but 30% rely on Medicaid compared with 15% of their white counterparts, according to KFF data for 2017 to 2021. More than 40% of American Indian and Alaska Native children are enrolled in Medicaid or CHIP, which provides health insurance to kids whose families are not eligible for Medicaid. KFF is a health information nonprofit that includes KFF Health News.

A Georgetown Center for Children and Families report from January found the share of residents enrolled in Medicaid was higher in counties with a significant Native American presence. The proportion on Medicaid in small-town or rural counties that are mostly within tribal statistical areas, tribal subdivisions, reservations, and other Native-designated lands was 28.7%, compared with 22.7% in other small-town or rural counties. About 50% of children in those Native areas were enrolled in Medicaid.

The federal government has already exempted tribes from some of Trump’s executive orders. In late February, Department of Health and Human Services acting general counsel Sean Keveney clarified that tribal health programs would not be affected by an executive order that diversity, equity, and inclusion government programs be terminated, but that the Indian Health Service is expected to discontinue diversity and inclusion hiring efforts established under an Obama-era rule.

HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. also rescinded the layoffs of more than 900 IHS employees in February just hours after they’d received termination notices. During Kennedy’s Senate confirmation hearings, he said he would appoint a Native American as an assistant HHS secretary. The National Indian Health Board, a Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit that advocates for tribes, in December endorsed elevating the director of the Indian Health Service to assistant secretary of HHS.

Jessica Schubel, a senior health care official in Joe Biden’s White House, said exemptions won’t be enough.

“Just because Native Americans are exempt doesn’t mean that they won’t feel the impact of cuts that are made throughout the rest of the program,” she said.

State leaders are also calling for federal Medicaid spending to be spared because cuts to the program would shift costs onto their budgets. Without sustained federal funding, which can cover more than 70% of costs, state lawmakers face decisions such as whether to change eligibility requirements to slim Medicaid rolls, which could cause some Native Americans to lose their health coverage.

Tribal leaders noted that state governments do not have the same responsibility to them as the federal government, yet they face large variations in how they interact with Medicaid depending on their state programs.

President Donald Trump has made seemingly conflicting statements about Medicaid cuts, saying in an interview on Fox News in February that Medicaid and Medicare wouldn’t be touched. In a social media post the same week, Trump expressed strong support for a House budget resolution that would likely require Medicaid cuts.

The budget proposal, which the House approved in late February, requires lawmakers to cut spending to offset tax breaks. The House Committee on Energy and Commerce, which oversees spending on Medicaid and Medicare, is instructed to slash $880 billion over the next decade. The possibility of cuts to the program that, together with CHIP, provides insurance to 79 million people has drawn opposition from national and state organizations.

The federal government reimburses IHS and tribal health facilities 100% of billed costs for American Indian and Alaska Native patients, shielding state budgets from the costs.

Because Medicaid is already a stopgap fix for Native American health programs, tribal leaders said it won’t be a matter of replacing the money but operating with less.

“When you’re talking about somewhere between 30% to 60% of a facility’s budget is made up by Medicaid dollars, that’s a very difficult hole to try and backfill,” said Winn Davis, congressional relations director for the National Indian Health Board.

Congress isn’t required to consult tribes during the budget process, Davis added. Only after changes are made by the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services and state agencies are tribes able to engage with them on implementation.

The amount the federal government spends funding the Native American health system is a much smaller portion of its budget than Medicaid. The IHS projected billing Medicaid about $1.3 billion this fiscal year, which represents less than half of 1% of overall federal spending on Medicaid.

“We are saving more lives,” Malerba said of the additional services Medicaid covers in tribal health care. “It brings us closer to a level of 21st century care that we should all have access to but don’t always.”

This article was published with the support of the Journalism & Women Symposium (JAWS) Health Journalism Fellowship, assisted by grants from The Commonwealth Fund.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

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